Our former executive editor is driven to distraction by church politics. In the final article in this Lenten series, she recounts some of her experiences

?THESE Christians, see how they hate each other.? This parody of St Paul is often quoted by a Catholic friend of mine, and quite right too. If you want to see top-quality bitchiness in action, join some Christians for a meeting on church matters. I once attended a gathering of a liberal Catholic women?s group. All very nice, anti-discrimination, non-judgemental, lunch-sharing, anti-war types ? that is, until a rather conservative speaker got up to do his bit. Not only did they disagree with the speech, but they hissed loudly. The last time I had heard such a racket was at a pantomime when Captain Hook came on.

And it?s not just liberal types who grow horns and a tail when they?re discussing church politics. As a Tablet reporter, I once telephoned a very conservative priest who happened to be a diocesan exorcist. No, he wouldn?t talk to me, he said sweetly, because Tablet people were all heretics and he would not deal in heresy. Then there was the editor of an ultra-orthodox Catholic magazine who once announced in my hearing that it might be time for the bishops to pop their clogs as they were leading the flock astray. His audience of nice ladies in miraculous medals applauded happily.

As a middle-of-the-road Sunday Catholic, all this nastiness tempts me to run into the arms of the pagans and catch a love bus to Stonehenge. When I was thinking about what it was that most distracted me from my faith, I came to the conclusion that it was not money, or sex (these days), or power, but people who get nasty in the name of the Church.

Of course we must have cardinals and bishops to keep everyone singing from the same hymn sheet. There is nothing which nurtures nutcases as much as religion, and without some firmly hammered-in signposts the universal Church would fall apart in no time. But for the Church to be healthy, it needs to allow free debate on issues such as the role of women (including women?s ordination), clerical celibacy and human sexuality. For heaven?s sake, it must be possible to discuss these issues without taking sides in a political way, forming parties, and using one?s tongue in the way that St James says you shouldn?t.

It is difficult, I admit, not to get passionate about these things. When we decide what line to take on such hot topics, we tap into our understanding of God, and to a Christian that is the most precious thing. If someone tells us that we haven?t got a clue about God, it?s like someone saying: ?You never understood your mother (or father).? At a United Nations conference, I once got into a furious debate with a fiercely conservative Catholic woman from Latin America. ?You?re not a proper Catholic?, she told me, and I nearly hit her. To me ?not being a proper Catholic? means I?ve fallen out with God. I knew I had not done that.

In her view, I should have faced up to the fact that, because I had rather unorthodox views on a few things, I was not ?a proper Catholic? and should get out of the club. But the Church is not an exclusive club, but my family. Within a family, disagreements are healthy. So they should be within the Church.

A fine example of a disagreement turning nasty can be found on the website of Christian Order, an ultra-conservative bulletin based in Britain, which aims its bazookas every month at ?Sixties claptrap?, anything remotely ?touchy feely? and, worst of all, ?Protestant!!!?

One correspondent, Teresa Barrett, provides the current issue with a stirring account of the brave attempt by an elderly lady parishioner to smuggle a statue of the Sacred Heart back to its original position after it was removed by a modernising priest. In Barrett?s account, the priest is referred to as ?Fr Luther?, and his henchmen are called the Renewers (a reference to the evangelical programme Renew, which is the b?te noire of Christian Order).

She takes up the story: ?Fr Luther arrived. This continued disobedience and defiance from the parish to the wisdom of the Renewers must have been too much for the poor bloke. He started screaming and shouting and grappling with the elderly lady, trying to prise her from the statue of her Beloved Lord, right there in the middle of the sanctuary.?

Never having met Teresa Barrett, I cannot vouch for the truth of this story, but it illustrates my point nicely. Both ?Fr Luther? and the lady with the statue were pursuing their Catholicism with some vigour, but, to quote a popular song title, what?s love got to do with it?

As I see it, the entire point of the Church is to put into practice the command of Christ to love God and to love one?s neighbour. As Jesus said, that is all that really matters. The rest is detail. So, if our disagreements on church matters drive us apart, and lead us into hate, then to my mind we?ve lost the plot. There is, of course, the argument that Jesus turned over the tables in the temple so as to defend a holy place, but that was righteous anger. He did so out of love. That is a bit different from hissing at speakers, waving our miraculous medals at improper Catholics, and making sure we only pal up with priests who wear the right sort of vestments ? be it a stole embroidered with Oscar Romero?s likeness or a dusty biretta.

I have had some wonderful, enriching years working in Catholic journalism. But at times it played havoc with my faith. When Cardinal Wotsit in the Vatican said something rude about women, or some church spokesman couldn?t tell the truth by accident, I would feel like packing the whole thing in. ?How?, I asked myself, ?could God employ such people??

Yes, we need the Church, but we must not let it get in the way of the faith. I have made that mistake many times. I have let the Church become a distraction from the real work of talking to Jesus. That?s what I should be doing even if, to some people, he might not be ?a proper Catholic?.

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