as this posting is about to expire (for some reason frontiers magazine doesn't seem to have an archive system on their website), i'm going to reprint this full editorial on the pope's death (which was written before the new pope, but mentions the new pope as a possible successor and why that would be terrible). it's a perfect example of the type of articles written in the gay press these days about 'not wanting to speak ill of the dead' but wanting to set the record straight about why he was not a friend to us. and it's appropriately detailed and harsh:

"What the ‘Morally Disordered’ Remember
For Gays the Pope's Good Work Is Overshadowed by a Legacy of Discrimination"
It’s often considered uncouth to speak ill of the dead. But what if the dead person in question was someone who continually put you down, called you “morally disordered” and “evil,” and considered your love for another human to be menace to the planet’s social fabric? When that person dies, do you sit back, speak only pleasantries, and try to be diplomatic?

When Pope John Paul II passed away April 2, the world seemed to forget Iraq, Terri Schiavo, and so-called “activist judges” for a moment, but few people outside the gay press dared to say anything about the pontiff that might be construed as negative.

After all, they say, the man born Karol Wojtyla in Wodawice, Poland, in 1920, was instrumental in dismantling communism across Eastern Europe (always mindful of living through the Nazi occupation of his homeland); he was the first pope from outside Italy in centuries; the first pope to recognize Israel; and he traveled the world giving moving speeches about human rights. But there is no denying that when it came to the issues of gay rights, reproductive choice, and even the sex-abuse scandal that erupted in the United States over the last three years—after decades of molestation of Catholic youths by priests—the pope was rigid, unyielding, and often spouted rhetoric that only reinforced hard-line church doctrine.

John Paul II ascended to his position in October 1978. At the time, gay issues were beginning to take their place on the national and global stage, and even the Catholic Church seemed to be heading in a more liberal direction. Once he took over, however, a decidedly conservative bent came back to the Vatican. When the pope finally did address the issue of homosexuality in 1986—some five years into the AIDS epidemic—it was only to condemn. In his “Letter to the Bishops of the Catholic Church on the Pastoral Care of Homosexual Persons,” he wrote: “Although the particular inclination of the homosexual person is not a sin, it is a more or less strong tendency ordered toward an intrinsic moral evil; thus the inclination itself must be seen as an objective disorder. Therefore, special concern and pastoral attention should be directed to those who have this condition, lest they be led to believe that the living out of this orientation in homosexual activity is a morally acceptable option. It is not.” Gays were allowed to exist so long as they were celibate, did not push for the right to marry and adopt, or, in general, say they were equal to heterosexuals. In other words, love the sinner but hate the sin.

Over the next two decades, the pontiff’s view did not soften at all; in fact, it seemed to become steelier. His ire toward gays grew as we gained rights—most notably as same-sex marriage and civil unions were legalized in countries across the world. In his book “Memory and Identity,” which was published earlier this year, he labeled same-sex marriage “part of a new ideology of evil.”

Statements like these caused many Catholics to leave the church over the last 25 years, or at least to engage in “cafeteria Catholicism,” in which they pick and choose which doctrines they find acceptable and ignore the rest. To the Vatican, these are the people who have weakened the church; to these Catholics, however, it’s the Vatican that is out of touch with the modern world.

While the pope blustered and fumed about equal rights for gays, however, he also remained very quiet on the sex-abuse scandal that rocked the church in the United States—and he completely refused to address the issue of gay clergy.

Now, as the pope is laid to rest and the ritual of choosing his successor moves forward, gays around the world are waiting to see if the conservatism of the last two decades will abate. In a recent Associated Press poll, conducted the weekend of John Paul’s death, 69% of all Americans (and 60% of Catholics) said the next pope should allow priests to marry, while 64% (60% of Catholics) said women should be allowed to become priests. The numbers are not yet in when it comes to same-sex marriage, but bear in mind that the only state to legalize such unions is Massachusetts, also a Catholic stronghold. All of the above are issues John Paul would not even consider.

It seems unlikely that much will change with a new pope, however, given John Paul’s appointment of a large number of conservative cardinals. Take Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger, head of the Vatican’s Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, for example. He is more doctrinaire than John Paul and is widely considered even more antigay; he was the man who was instrumental in drafting the 1986 Letter. Is that what we have to look forward to?

The idea of a loving, caring higher power is one in which we’d all like to believe, but when men like the pope can and do use their positions to selectively choose who is worth saving and whom we should condemn, it’s hardly a wonder at this moment that many gays, not to mention a number of Catholics, are not shedding tears for his passing.

Pope John Paul II did, indeed, help orchestrate some good in this world, and for that he should be rightfully remembered. But he was also unyielding and dogmatic, and willing to viciously attack gays as threats to society. One can mourn the passing of a man’s life, but when his words linger like acrimonious smoke, it’s impossible to see only benevolence.