By Jimmy Breslin
Newsday
October 1, 2002

Despite pronouncements for years, the Catholic hierarchy does not believe in opposing capital punishment. Suddenly, this flat-out lying has become apparent to all. Because of things like this, the largest and most ancient institution in the world wavers like blown grass. Look at your feet as you walk and see the sidewalk covered with pieces of mortar from the buildings that threaten to collapse.

In 1974, the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops declared its opposition to the reinstatement of capital punishment. And Pope John Paul II declared, "A sign of hope is the increasing recognition that the dignity of human life must never be taken away, even in the case of someone who has done great evil."

A couple of months ago, the American bishops met in Dallas, parading into a hotel ballroom, with most of them as wide as boars, to take on the subject of sexual abuse by priests. They then named a commission that would remove the dreaded sin of pedophiles from their lives and careers.

They employed what they thought of as brilliant politics. They went to a strong man, a conservative who would handle it all for them. That's good. The public will love that. They named as the head of their commission Gov. Frank Keating of Oklahoma. The bishops loved him. He was what they believed in.

Frank Keating is a former FBI agent and prosecutor who has served two terms as Oklahoma's governor. During this time, the Death Penalty Institute of Oklahoma reports, he presided over 40 executions. Oklahoma had 50 since the pope and bishops made their statement against capital punishment in 1974. Oklahoma is fifth in the nation in executions. In Keating's time of overseeing the 40 executions, he fought publicly against two archbishops, Eusbius Beltyram and Edward Slattery, who thought what they were doing was real for their church. They didn't hear a voice for them.

Keating vetoed a bill to prevent the execution of anybody retarded. When the Supreme Court ruled against these executions, Oklahoma's legislature had to pass a bill to comply. This time, Keating could not do what he wanted to do, veto the thing and kill the nearest 35 IQ. When DNA evidence overturned the conviction of a man on death row, Archbishop Slattery asked for a moratorium on executions. The answer was a Keating smirk and dead bodies from the execution chamber. The record shows that Keating is probably the most committed capital punishment man in the nation. The bishops loved him.

Once, they said they believed in life over death. What does that matter now? Did it ever matter? What has that got to do with my job? Who is going to keep my red hat on my head? Keating. He shows the world that we mean business. We're tough.

And for this hypocritical act of which they are proud, the church hierarchy went into an all-night store and bought trouble. In Boston tonight, the group called the Voice of the Faithful is going to parade with candles in front of the house where Bernard Law, cardinal, lives like a fat potentate. The deepest mystery of the Catholic faith could be how Law stays in his job.

He is responsible for allowing pedophiles like Shanley and Geoghan to roam Boston and destroy lives. His assistants were William Murphy, now the bishop of Rockville Centre, and Thomas Daily of Brooklyn.

Daily has reached the age of retirement and somebody said the other day that he was going to get another year because it is the 150th anniversary of the Diocese of Brooklyn and he wants the chance to sit up there and be extolled. If the Brooklyn Catholics let that go on, let this guy have another turn on the job, then he is a true shepherd because they are dumb sheep.

The bishop in Rockville Centre, Murphy, makes a high art of foolishness. He is rebuilding a great former convent, a place that could hold 36 apartments, into his residence. He spends fortunes of parishioners' money to rebuild the place. He is criticized for greed, and meets this with a remarkable lack of shame.

Already, his imperious letter to a noble man, Robert Byrnes, is known everywhere. And now Murphy blurts out in a diocese paper that "There are those who identify themselves as Catholics and then go on to do such things as say that we have to get rid of the hierarchy. ... Well, you're no longer a Catholic.

"As I've been saying publicly, no matter how good a group you may be, without me you're not the church on Long Island."

Murphy is a symbol of the men attempting to lead. It only follows that a group of priests who seem undefended are holding another meeting Thursday to discuss their situations. They call themselves The Voice of the Ordained.

They understand that the institution may not be here if something doesn't happen, such as women priests and married priests and a say in the election of bishops. The subjects are discussed gently because younger priests are unfamiliar with the idea of challenging authority. But the group will be there tonight at the 35th floor of the Mutual of America Life Insurance Company on Park Avenue and 50th Street. Their last meeting was in a bare room at Queens College.

The Boston Voice of the Faithful started out in a church basement in Wellesley and now they are bold enough to picket the cardinal. Next time they'll bring a moving van.