A handful of years ago Pier Vittorio Tondelli He gave us an unforgettable cultural page, which I cannot help but remember today, looking at the bruises left on my body by the violent statements of a man of God.
""I cannot love the religion of council and punishment. I would like to love the religion of fullness. I would like to be happy in my religion."" – wrote a Tondelli embittered by the inaction of his times. Twenty years later, I find myself rereading these passages with fervor, searching for the symptom, the common thread, the key to making sense, beyond the cyclical ecclesiastical cynicism, of the brutality of the present.
The pretext is shameful, the act is reprehensible.. Once again, the Church is using and fueling anti-homosexual prejudice in an indecent and unacceptable way. To cover, obscure, cloak, in a completely conscious way, one's own pathological deviations, Cardinal Bertone borrows us, uses us, abuses us, throws us to the mouths hungry for truth to distract them with our bodies.
Homosexuality is not an illness, unlike pedophilia. I'm a lesbian and I love my partner madly. Neither I, nor the Maura and Giulia family, can accept such verbal violence.. The shameful deception of those who use me and my beloved companion as a shield or blanket with which to defend themselves from their own misdeeds is chilling.
I would invite the ecclesiastical hierarchies, who claim to be close to the Law of God, to reflect on the violence and groundlessness of claims that link homosexuality to paedophilia.
They should reflect on the violent drift within their own hierarchies and restrain their anger at the leak of the truth about who truly committed these reprehensible acts. This is my heartfelt appeal.
Love is God's law in which I want to believe. Forgiveness for poisonous words and wars against those who, like me, are guilty only of a pure and absolute feeling, for a consenting adult person of the same sex, it will come when I have access to wisdom. I can't help but see behind these words the fear of those who feel the chambers of prejudice and exclusion shaking.
The days come when Maura and Giulia are free women, who love, who share their existence in their home, who caress the passing years sweetly, imagining the features of their son. The reasons for this brutal present are written in this inclusive and diverse future, which those who love can observe from afar become substance, still pale, ethereal, but substance.
Maura Chiulli
