From Publishers Weekly
This is a very angry book. It is the story of the pedophilia scandal that has rocked the Catholic Church, seen through the eyes of Pulitzer Prize–winner Breslin. As he did in I Want to Thank My Brain for Remembering Me, the author uses New York City as his backdrop. Breslin grew up in Queens and has a true affection for the meaning of the Church, but little respect for its hierarchy. He targets two bishops, Thomas Daily—who once responded to accusations by proclaiming, "I am not a policeman. I am a shepherd"—formerly of Brooklyn, and William Murphy, still ensconced on Long Island. Both worked for the disgraced Bernard Cardinal Law in Boston and wantonly transferred pedophiles from parish to parish—without notifying unsuspecting parents—where they continued systematically molesting children. When they came to the New York area, their blatant conduct continued, and Breslin has the grand jury minutes to prove it against Murphy, whom he nicknamed "Mansion Murphy" because of his proclivity toward a luxurious lifestyle. Breslin shows how the Church uses money and intimidation to stifle dissent and uses the story of a convicted pedophile, the appropriately named Rev. Robert Hands, to prove his point. Although Breslin hammers the power structure of the Church from the pope on down, he draws wonderful portraits of dedicated clerics like Father John Powis of St. Barbara's in Brooklyn, who covers all bases for his parishioners from the spiritual to stopping evictions, and Sister Tesa Fitzgerald, who heads Brooklyn's Hour Children program, which helps women coming out of prison. This book will anger people on both sides of the issue. However, it's doubtful they'll be as outraged as Breslin is in this disturbing tome. Copyright © Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved.

From Booklist
In a book that the Roman Catholic curia will surely condemn, Breslin, a noted columnist and commentator and best-selling author, pulls no punches as he launches a scorching indictment of the contemporary sex-abuse scandals. Making an important distinction between the Roman Catholic Church and the Catholic religion, he offers his own Breslinesque vision of a new Catholic Church. Dismissing the abortionobsessed pope and bishops as a bad joke, he proposes the establishment of a new Catholic parish in the diocese of Brooklyn, headed by none other than Bishop Jimmy Breslin; after all, as he jibes, he is eminently qualified for the job, since he is not a pedophile. Personalizing the tragedy by introducing a wide array of victims, perpetrators, and ordinary Catholics struggling with their faith, he takes the Church hierarchy and its attendant culture of secrecy and coverup to task. Between the often-scathing lines is a serious proposal for a reawakening of the Catholic social consciousness and a call for a return to a more Christcentered church sans all the elaborate trappings and rituals, which have taken on undue significance in the modern era. Overflowing with legitimate anger, incisive criticism, and defiant challenges, this soulwrenching denunciation should make American Catholics sit up, take notice, and begin debating. Vintage Breslin. Margaret Flanagan
Copyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved

Review
Frank McCourt author of Angela's Ashes Jimmy Breslin creates his own road to Calvary that winds from Queens to Manhattan to Rome, itself, and back again. Along the way there are rogues and sinners and, yes, saints. Breslin can't help himself. On one page he's skewering lace-curtain cardinals, on the next he's mining that gold in the hearts of Catholic New Yorkers who want their church back. There will be books galore on the scandals but none will be so scathing and yet so suffused with compassion for those who have suffered, for those who put their dollars in the basket and hope for redemption and, along the way, some honesty from the men with the backwards collars.

Mario Cuomo former New York Governor An anguished and stunningly real cri de coeur by a forever Christian, badly wounded by the church's betrayal of the religion he clings to. Brilliantly written as only Jimmy Breslin could.

Studs Terkel It's common knowledge that Jimmy Breslin, when aroused, packs as powerful a wallop as any journalist alive. Invariably, his targets have been bullies, corporate and political. This time around, he aims his leather at the vicars of his lifelong Catholic faith. Don't misunderstand: this is a profoundly religious book....Hopefully, this book may be regarded as a metaphor: a challenge to the infallible "vicars" of all faiths.

Review
Rev. Richard P. McBrien Crowley-O'Brien Professor of Theology, University of Notre Dame Among the growing number of books occasioned by the tragic sexual-abuse crisis in the Roman Catholic Church, Jimmy Breslin's surely has a niche all its own. Some will accuse him of 'attacking the church,' but his sharp and often angry criticisms are directed at its pastoral leaders and institutional modes of behavior, which he castigates with the force of a "truck's backfire," to use one of his own phrases. In the end, Breslin will do more to advance the long-term good of the church than those who walk the well-trodden path of defensiveness and denial.

Book Description
Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist, Jimmy Breslin has established himself as one of America's most distinctively Catholic voices. We have also come to know Breslin as the cocky guy from Queens, New York, who speaks insolently to powerful people and institutions, his words always tinged with a healthy amount of unsentimental outer-borough humor. Now, with a mix of sadness and anger, Breslin turns his sights on the Roman Catholic Church. After a lifetime of attending mass every Sunday, Breslin has severed his ties to the church he once loved, and, in this important book, filled with a fury generated by a sense of betrayal, he explains why. When the church sex scandals emerged relentlessly in recent years, and when it became apparent that these scandals had been covered up by the church hierarchy, Breslin found it impossible to reconcile his faith with this new reality. Ever the reporter, he visited many victims of molestation by priests and found lives in emotional chaos. He questioned the bishops and found an ossified clergy that has a sense of privilege and entitlement. Thus disillusioned with his church, though not with his faith, he writes about the loss of moral authority yet uses his trademark mordant humor to good effect. Breslin's righteous anger is put to use. Imagining a renewed church, along with practical solutions such as married priests and female priests, The Church That Forgot Christ also reminds us that Christ wore sandals, not gold vestments and rings, and that ultimately what the Catholic Church needs most is a healthy dose of Christianity. In that sense, Breslin has written a dark book that is full of hope and possibility. It is a book that only Jimmy Breslin could have written.

Download Description
"Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist, Jimmy Breslin has established himself as one of America's most distinctively Catholic voices. We have also come to know Breslin as the cocky guy from Queens, New York, who speaks insolently to powerful people and institutions, his words always tinged with a healthy amount of unsentimental outer-borough humor. Now, with a mix of sadness and anger, Breslin turns his sights on the Roman Catholic Church. After a lifetime of attending mass every Sunday, Breslin has severed his ties to the church he once loved, and, in this important book, filled with a fury generated by a sense of betrayal, he explains why. When the church sex scandals emerged relentlessly in recent years, and when it became apparent that these scandals had been covered up by the church hierarchy, Breslin found it impossible to reconcile his faith with this new reality. Ever the reporter, he visited many victims of molestation by priests and found lives in emotional chaos. He questioned the bishops and found an ossified clergy that has a sense of privilege and entitlement. Thus disillusioned with his church, though not with his faith, he writes about the loss of moral authority yet uses his trademark mordant humor to good effect. Breslin's righteous anger is put to use. Imagining a renewed church, along with practical solutions such as married priests and female priests, The Church That Forgot Christ also reminds us that Christ wore sandals, not gold vestments and rings, and that ultimately what the Catholic Church needs most is a healthy dose of Christianity. In that sense, Breslin has written a dark book that is full of hope and possibility. It is a book that only Jimmy Breslin could have written."

FROM THE PUBLISHER

"After a lifetime of attending mass every Sunday, Jimmy Breslin has severed his ties to the church he once loved, and in this book he explains why." "When the church sex scandals emerged relentlessly in recent years, and when it became apparent that these scandals had been covered up by the church hierarchy, Breslin found it impossible to reconcile his faith with this new reality. Ever the reporter, he visited many victims of molestation by priests and found lives in emotional chaos. He questioned the bishops and found an ossified clergy that has a sense of privilege and entitlement. Thus disillusioned with his church, though not with his faith, he writes about the loss of moral authority yet uses his trademark mordant humor to good effect." Imagining a renewed church, along with practical solutions such as married priests and female priests, The Church That Forgot Christ also reminds us that Christ wore sandals, not gold vestments and rings, and that ultimately what the Catholic Church needs most is a healthy dose of Christianity.

SYNOPSIS

A pillar of New York City journalism for four decades (and counting), and never one to avoid challenging the establishment, Breslin recounts how he investigated the Catholic Church's sex scandal by interviewing victims and bishops. He concludes that after a lifetime of faith, he had to choose between the practice of the church and the teachings of Jesus. Annotation ©2004 Book News, Inc., Portland, OR

FROM THE CRITICS

Maureen Corrigan - Newsday

If Breslin had chosen the priesthood instead of the brotherhood of newshounds, he would have thundered out Sunday sermons the likes of which haven't been heard since Martin Luther himself.... To read this book, as I did as a former Queens Catholic schoolgirl who's familiar with much of the parish territory that Breslin investigates, is to feel the ground shift under my feet. Other readers without that dubious advantage of memory will be moved simply by the power of Breslin's anguish and righteous anger.

Publishers Weekly

This is a very angry book. It is the story of the pedophilia scandal that has rocked the Catholic Church, seen through the eyes of Pulitzer Prize-winner Breslin. As he did in I Want to Thank My Brain for Remembering Me, the author uses New York City as his backdrop. Breslin grew up in Queens and has a true affection for the meaning of the Church, but little respect for its hierarchy. He targets two bishops, Thomas Daily-who once responded to accusations by proclaiming, "I am not a policeman. I am a shepherd"-formerly of Brooklyn, and William Murphy, still ensconced on Long Island. Both worked for the disgraced Bernard Cardinal Law in Boston and wantonly transferred pedophiles from parish to parish-without notifying unsuspecting parents-where they continued systematically molesting children. When they came to the New York area, their blatant conduct continued, and Breslin has the grand jury minutes to prove it against Murphy, whom he nicknamed "Mansion Murphy" because of his proclivity toward a luxurious lifestyle. Breslin shows how the Church uses money and intimidation to stifle dissent and uses the story of a convicted pedophile, the appropriately named Rev. Robert Hands, to prove his point. Although Breslin hammers the power structure of the Church from the pope on down, he draws wonderful portraits of dedicated clerics like Father John Powis of St. Barbara's in Brooklyn, who covers all bases for his parishioners from the spiritual to stopping evictions, and Sister Tesa Fitzgerald, who heads Brooklyn's Hour Children program, which helps women coming out of prison. This book will anger people on both sides of the issue. However, it's doubtful they'll be as outraged as Breslin is in this disturbing tome. (July 6) Forecast: Breslin, a master promoter, will be doing national media and touring to New York, Boston and Chicago. His provocative book and confrontational style is sure to generate a lot of publicity-both pro and con. Copyright 2004 Reed Business Information.

Library Journal

Newsday columnist Breslin joins the ranks of Catholics disillusioned by priest sex-abuse scandals within the Church. Couched in familiar street-reporting style, his prose whips the reader rapidly from one local scene to another, largely in Queens and Long Island, NY, as he presents sorry tales of victims and predators, naming people and parishes. He is most vitriolic when discussing bishops whose solution was merely to move guilty clerics to new parish venues. By way of contrast, the book also recounts the struggles of a priest truly devoted to justice and the poor. Layman Breslin wrestles with images of the church as it might be and as he finds it, in a near stream-of-consciousness style laced with numerous conversational dialogs. More balanced and theologically centered works on the subject are becoming available, but Breslin, a kind of everyman, shares his personal agony that such tragedy might never again recur. Recommended for general collections.-Anna M. Donnelly, St. John's Univ. Lib., NY Copyright 2004 Reed Business Information.

Kirkus Reviews

A searing indictment of the faithful against a church that has failed their faith, with legendary New York newsman Breslin driving the nails into the cathedral door. Breslin (The Short Sweet Dream of Eduardo Gutierrez, 2002, etc.) opens, as ever, provocatively: the Catholic Church is led by a pope who "has four subjects on his mind: abortion, abortion, abortion, and Poland"; the Catholic Church has committed gross crimes by knowingly sheltering perpetrators of crime, sexual and otherwise; the Catholic Church has thrown up false gods; the Catholic Church has forgotten the Catholic religion. So, he proposes, he'll start a new religion, one with women priests and married heterosexual priests and a vision of a working-class Christ with no taste for fine raiment and golden trappings, with Breslin himself serving to open "the first new Catholic parish in my diocese of Brooklyn since 1972"-and taking a choice job in it. "I qualify for the rank of bishop," he explains, "because I'm not a pedophile." Bishop Breslin qualifies, too, because he's Irish, and the Irish are the real rocks on which the Church is built (as opposed, he suggests, again controversially, to the Mafiosi who run the thing, at least in New York and Rome). He qualifies because he attends Mass weekly, has put in more time examining its wrongs (and occasional rights) than most working cardinals, has logged countless hours exposing the bodies under the rectory rugs, "so many . . . that walking into the diocese offices was risky for the ankles." He qualifies because he cares. There's not an ounce of modesty-or irony-in the proposal, and as Breslin delivers his list of charges against the Church his anger and righteous indignationmount, till by the end of this donnybrook of a book, having cited case after case of crime and betrayal, he's in a fine and furious lather, feeling very much, he allows, like Christ among the moneychangers in the temple. The authorities will cry foul, but you can bet American Catholics will be reading and discussing Breslin's latest-and justly so. Agent: David Black

WHAT PEOPLE ARE SAYING

An anguished and stunningly real cri de coeur by a forever Christian, badly wounded by the church's betrayal of the religion he clings to. Brilliantly written as only Jimmy Breslin could.  — Mario Cuomo

It's common knowledge that Jimmy Breslin, when aroused, packs as powerful a wallop as any journalist alive. Invariably, his targets have been bullies, corporate and political. This time around, he aims his leather at the vicars of his lifelong Catholic faith. Don't misunderstand: this is a profoundly religious book....Hopefully, this book may be regarded as a metaphor: a challenge to the infallible "vicars" of all faiths.  — Studs Terkel

Jimmy Breslin creates his own road to Calvary that winds from Queens to Manhattan to Rome, itself, and back again. Along the way there are rogues and sinners and, yes, saints. Breslin can't help himself. On one page he's skewering lace-curtain cardinals, on the next he's mining that gold in the hearts of Catholic New Yorkers who want their church back. There will be books galore on the scandals but none will be so scathing and yet so suffused with compassion for those who have suffered, for those who put their dollars in the basket and hope for redemption and, along the way, some honesty from the men with the backwards collars.  — Frank McCourt