And So It Continues

Basic theological differences aside, turns out that the Catholic Church and the Southern Baptist Convention (SBC) have a lot in common.

When the long-awaited investigative report on clergy sexual abuse within the SBC was released in May, 2022, it included a previously secret list of more than 700 immoral, unprincipled and compromised pastors and other church-affiliated personnel. Prepared by the independent investigative group Guidepost Solutions, this document revealed that for more than ten years, SBC leaders had maintained a private list of abusive ministers, while failing to ensure that those same accused ministers were no longer in positions of power at SBC churches.

A close reading of this explosive-yet-very-sad report makes clear that the SBC has joined the Catholic Church as an indelibly stained enterprise, each with lengthy and well-documented histories of countenancing and protecting sexual predators masquerading as clergy in their midst. In short, both of these groups failed, miserably, with regard to what should have been one of their core responsibilities … the protection of our young and most vulnerable.

The Catholic Church, in particular, has a long and sordid record of working to keep the lid on their clergy abuse scandal by transferring problem priests from parish to parish. In other words, church leaders were more concerned with keeping things quiet than with bringing this outrage to an end, and so it continued for decades.

One particularly outrageous example of failure in the Archdiocese of New York is that of former priest Gennaro “Father Jerry” Gentile. Before being outed in the New York media in 2002, with the headline “Twisted Journey of a Problem Priest,” Gentile had, for years, raised suspicions among fellow clergy about his interactions with young men and boys … but nothing was ever done. He was laicized in 2005. And though he may have been the worst, Gentile was but one of many clerics who, when accused of scandalous behavior, were moved to other unsuspecting communities. And while the Archdiocese ultimately paid $60 million in damages to those victimized, it could never recover the trust of the multitude of families and individuals affected, forever, by the actions of these evil men.

Writing in the blog Patheos, John Beckett observes:

Never forget that values are more important than the institution. This is the most disappointing thing about both the Roman Catholic and Southern Baptist scandals: people in positions of responsibility put protecting the reputation of their church ahead of caring for victims and stopping predators.

And in the end, they did even more damage to the reputation of their church. Now both denominations are known not just as a place where bad things happened, but where supposedly spiritual leaders covered them up.

To that I can only add:

Amen

Apologia Lost

Since May, 2015, Pope Francis has spoken, repeatedly, of the words “please, thank you, and sorry” as being essential to repairing and reinforcing bonds.  The phrase “I’m sorry” in particular, he said, is the one which, when lacking, causes small cracks in relationships to become larger to the point that they become deep trenches.

Apparently, Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI, did not get the memo.

This became clear, recently, when Benedict addressed allegations that he disregarded the reports of four survivors of clergy sexual abuse when he was Archbishop of Munich from 1977 to 1982.  While denying that he mishandled those accusations, he acknowledged his failure to assist those victims when they sought his help.  In asking for clemency, he added:  “I have had great responsibilities in the Catholic Church.  All the greater is my pain for the abuses and the errors that occurred in those different places during the time of my mandate.”

It is worth pointing out that Benedict’s comments lack the simple phrase … I’m sorry … that his successor, Francis, held as key to healing and mending brokenness.  This being so, one is left to wonder … don’t these guys talk to each other?

Benedict’s lack of personal remorse met with swift reaction. In New York, for example, Robert Hoatson, a priest for 45 years and co-founder of Road to Recovery, demonstrated in front of Archdiocesan offices carrying signs that read: “Pope Benedict: A Moral Failure.  Like All Church Leaders.”  When interviewed, he spoke for many disaffected Catholics in asserting that: “The Church is never going to change.  It’s corrupt to the core, from the Vatican down to New York City.”

To apologize, one needs to honestly hear what happened from the other person’s point of view and how it affected them. But those who believe the world revolves around them like, for example, the Princes of the Church, tend not to be interested in listening to others, particularly if they are being accused of doing something wrong.

Having, over the course of many years, learned this painful lesson, victims of sexual abuse at the hands of Catholic clergy have, long since, abandoned hope of receiving a sincere and meaningful apology from hierarchy of the Church.  

And as the recent intransigence from the upper reaches of the Vatican reveals, this is unlikely to change any time soon.

Hypocrisy Personified

When you have a moment,  look up the definition of the word hypocrite.  When you find it, do not be surprised to see, next to it, a picture of James Jackson.  For those unfamiliar with the goings-on in the Diocese of Providence, Rhode Island, Jackson is the now-suspended pastor of St. Mary’s Church who was arrested recently for a range of criminal offenses related to the possession and distribution of child pornography.

While despicable beyond words, what makes Jackson’s case even more breathtaking is his penchant for writing columns decrying sex abuse scandals perpetrated by “psychosexually dysfunctional” priests, and then publishing those works in the weekly bulletin at his church.  He even wrote about former Cardinal Timothy McCarrick, describing him as a “creep” who, while engaging in public good works, simultaneously led a sinful private life.

As it turns out, Jackson knows more than a little about that sort of thing.

Needless to say, every person facing criminal charges deserves the presumption of innocence.  Jackson’s defense attorney, though, has his work cut out for him.  First, a police task force Identified the IP address of a computer at St. Mary’s rectory as being actively engaged in viewing and sharing videos consistent with the sexual abuse of children.  Second, a search warrant at that rectory found a two-terabyte external storage device containing multiple videos of young children engaged in various sexual acts.  That device belonged to Jackson.

To assist with his legal bills, a group of parishioners set up a web site to collect funds and share their views about Jackson’s situation.  Many posts on that site are disheartening, as they suggest some sort of plot to discredit Jackson,  going on to describe him as a someone they trust unreservedly.  One hopes these assessments are accurate, for that is what countless other Catholic families said about their own parish priests only to learn, far too late, that they were sexual predators.  In case after case, those awful men ingratiated themselves into families while, at the same time, sexually abusing the children of those who trusted them.  Who, after all, would ever think that a Catholic Priest would commit such evil acts.

For our purposes, hypocrisy is defined as the practice of engaging in the same behavior or activity for which one criticizes another, or the practice of claiming to have moral standards or beliefs to which one’s own behavior does not conform.  By extension, then, a hypocrite is someone who practices hypocrisy.

In addition to being a disgraced Catholic Priest criminally charged with moral turpitude, James Jackson is, by definition, a hypocrite.

The Man Next Door

Our new neighbor seems nice.

He appears to be of retirement age and, though he moved in about a year ago, he keeps pretty much to himself.  Somebody said he came here to the Midwest from one of the New England states, and that he had spent a number of years in the Navy.  He lives alone.

A large American flag flies over his front yard, and he is frequently seen in his garage working with his large collection of tools.  He doesn’t socialize much, but he has a couple of buddies with whom he goes golfing and boating.  It’s nice to see retired guys enjoying life.

He must be a religious sort, for there is a statue of Jesus on his front steps and a sticker on his car reading: “I’m Catholic and I Vote.”  He volunteers at a nearby convent where he drives ailing nuns to medical treatment, and he recently began working with a local community theater group offering programs for adults and young folks.

There are many kids here on our quiet cul-de-sac, and we parents keep a close eye on them.  Our own children are well-mannered … when they are playing outside, they wave at our neighbor and say: “Hello.”  He always waves back at them.

We don’t know much about this fellow, but it doesn’t seem like we should be concerned about him.

Should we?

This “new neighbor” is not an actual person.  Instead, he is a composite of details unearthed by the Associated Press (AP) in a recent search for 1,700 disgraced former Catholic clergy living clandestine lives in unsuspecting communities across the United States.

In their exhaustive October, 2019, report, the AP located fallen clerics employed as school teachers, sex assault counselors, nurses and volunteers working with at-risk children.  Some of these individuals lived near playgrounds and day care centers and, since leaving the church, many have been charged with crimes including sexual assault and possession of child pornography.

And, most distressing, these individuals … each of whom had been removed following credible allegations of sexual abuse … were living in unwary neighborhoods absent supervision by the Catholic Church or notification to any government entity.

When asked about this sad state of affairs, Church leaders maintain that once a priest is dismissed there is no way to keep track of him.  But this is simply not true.

In November, 2018, for example, the Archdiocese of New Orleans released the names of 57 clergy credibly accused of sexual abuse of minors over the years in southeast Louisiana.  In revealing the names of the abusers, the Archbishop said surviving former clergy on the list were notified that their names were about to be made public; he went on to note that efforts were undertaken to notify family members of deceased former religious as well.

It should come as no surprise that other Dioceses and Archdioceses have that same ability.  Consider, for example, the many accused clergy who continue to receive pensions or health insurance from the church … it has been suggested that dioceses should devise a system making those benefits contingent upon defrocked priests self-reporting their current addresses and employment

No longer can we allow Catholic leaders to assert that fallen clergy removed from ministry are not their problem.  The failure to monitor predator priests and report their presence in our communities is inexcusable for, as American author Dean Koontz warns:

Evil is no faceless stranger, living in a distant neighborhood. 

Evil has a wholesome, hometown face, with merry eyes 

and an open smile. Evil walks among us, wearing

a mask which looks like all our faces.