It's not easy raising a child in the Catholic faith today

Every time I think the Catholic Church takes one step forward, there they go - 10 giant steps backwards. Now, this in itself wouldn't cause me any great crises of conscience, for I have been enjoying a trial separation from this institution and am considering filing divorce papers any day now. But, you see, there is a child involved. A couple of Sundays ago, she appeared at the foot of the bed looking ever so angelic and announced that she wanted to go to Mass. "Why?" I asked. "Because if I don't, I won't be let make my First Communion," said the worried little voice. Driven by the emotions well-known to all Catholics - guilt and fear - I obliged. But herein lies the problem: how on Earth is a parent supposed to explain the Catholic Church to a child these days? Remember, kiddies today are not the gullible, poor dimwits that their mommas and papas were. Thanks Sky! Firstly, did I mention that this is a she child I speak of? So, regardless of how devoted she is to the message of Jesus, she is destined to remain at the bottom of the Catholic food chain. Is there such a thing as a male soul and a female soul and, if so, is one superior to the other? Children tend to see things in a very black and white manner; their minds have not yet been tainted by silly politics. Therefore, I simply cannot begin to fathom how you explain to a child that you are raising them in a church that has protected child rapists and torturers. No matter how appalled the majority of priests are at this evil (and I am sure they are the majority), the fact remains: as a parent, at this moment in time, I cannot depend on the Catholic Church, as an institution, to act in the best interests of my child. And it does sadden me to say this, as some of the people I admire and love most are priests. Then the head of this church plans a little outing to our nearest neighbours and doesn't bother popping over to meet the people so egregiously harmed by his underlings. If the pope packed judiciously, Michael O'Leary would have delivered him (on time) to Dublin for €20 or €30. But this man seems to think that a few apologies offered with suitably pained facial expressions will illicit forgiveness from his congregation. Not. Good. Enough. Especially when it appears that the impetus behind these apologies is good public relations. No doubt, each apology is first scrutinised by the best legal team money can buy. Can you imagine heading to confessions with your local solicitor in tow? According to the 'Daily Mail' last Friday, Benedict claims that "atheist extremism" is like "Nazi tyranny that wished to eradicate God". Atheists do not believe in a God. That's it. Nothing more, nothing less. They do not practice genocide, nor do they travel the world forcing their beliefs on others. Ironically, atheists are among the most God-like individuals that I have ever met. I argued once with my philosophy tutor (a silly thing to do) that he must believe in a god of some sort, else he would not be the good person he was. His answer was that he believed in being virtuous simply because it is the right thing to do. Upon reading 'A Clockwork Orange', the penny began to drop. The central argument of this book is that humans, at all costs, should be allowed make their own moral choices. I can't say I agree with the author, Burgess, but his argument does support the notion that, in the absence of external motivators, if humans act in a good, rather than evil, manner, then they are truly, intrinsically, morally good. Now, those are the kind of people I would trust my child with. I do not know if there is a God. Nobody does. You may believe in the existence of one, or more deities, but it is just that - a belief. On any given day, it is perfectly normal to oscillate between atheism, polytheism, monotheism, agnosticism and pure, utter theological confusion. So you settle on one belief system and try to make a go of it. You pick the religion that best supports that belief - the one you were reared with will usually do just fine. Then the hierarchy acts in a manner that makes your skin crawl and your stomach churn and you turn away in disgust and despair. But now the child is picking out First Communion dresses...