The "abuse crisis" is about many things: it's about criminal acitvity and serious sin; it's about justice and the need for healing; and, it's about being a church that is focused on mission and not maintenance.
Below are two reprints of commentary, one from Thomas Reese, SJ, a Jesuit and former editor of America Magazine. The other from a woman working to ensure dioceses and religious orders maintain safe environments for children.
You may have your own "commentary" and have a need to share it.
The friars are happy to meet and listen and answer questions you might have. Please don't hesitate to call on any one of us if we can be of help.
Friday, April 16, 2010
Taking Responsibility
Taking Responsibility
What can European bishops learn from the U.S. sexual abuse crisis?
Thomas J. Reese
APRIL 26, 2010 America Magazine
W hen the story of sexual abuse of minors by members of the Catholic clergy and the story of how that abuse was dealt with by church officials exploded in the United States, most Vatican officials and European churchmen considered it an American problem. Then when Canada and Ireland experienced a similar crisis, it became a problem of the “English-speaking world.” Instead of seeing the crisis in the United States as a warning to put their own houses in order, too many European bishops continued with business as usual, believing that the crisis would not touch them.
Now that the crisis has arrived in Europe, what can the European bishops and the Vatican learn from the U.S. experience?
Begin with the context. The sexual abuse crisis did not start in Boston; it first came to public attention in the mid-1980s with a court case in Lafayette, La. The crisis was covered by The National Catholic Reporter long before The Boston Globe noticed it. It was in the mid-80s that insurance companies told bishops such cases would no longer be covered by their liability insurance. This should have gotten the attention of any prudent C.E.O.
A Long Learning Curve
Before 1985 few bishops handled these cases well. The tendency was to believe the priest when he said he would never do it again and to believe psychologists who said the priest could safely return to ministry. The bishops were compassionate and pastoral toward their priests, while forgetting their responsibility to be pastoral and protective of their flock. They tried to keep everything secret so as not to scandalize the faithful.
Between 1985 and 1992, the bishops began to learn more about the problem. They held closed-door sessions with experts at their semiannual meetings. At one closed meeting, at least one bishop told his brother bishops of the mistakes he had made and urged them not to do the same. The number of abuses declined during this period.
In 1992, under the leadership of Archbishop Daniel Pilarcyzk, the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops adopted a series of guidelines for dealing with sexual abuse. Data collected by researchers at the John Jay School of Criminal Justice show that the number of abuse cases plummeted in the 1990s, indicating that by that time most bishops “got it.” The guidelines were opposed by Cardinal Bernard Law, however, and ignored by other bishops. The guidelines were not binding on the bishops, and they continued to leave open the possibility that an abusive priest could return to ministry. And at a meeting in St. Louis, Mo., that same year, a group of psychologists who were treating priests urged the bishops to keep open the possibility of returning the priests to ministry.
The scandal in Boston showed that voluntary guidelines were insufficient. It also showed that no one trusted the bishops (or their advisors) to decide who could safely be returned to ministry. As a result, in 2002 the bishops, with Rome’s consent, imposed binding rules requiring zero tolerance of abuse, the reporting of accusations to the police and mandatory child protection programs in every diocese. Under the zero-tolerance rule adopted at their meeting in Dallas, any priest involved in abuse should never be able to return to ministry. In most cases, he was to be expelled from the priesthood, with possible exceptions if he is elderly and retired or infirm. The Dallas rules also required a lay committee in each diocese to review accusations against priests who are suspended from ministry while an investigation takes place. The Dallas rules were controversial in that many priests saw the zero-tolerance rule as draconian. They also feared false accusations and that the rules made them guilty until proven innocent. They objected that Dallas dealt only with priests, not with the bishops who were guilty of negligence.
In any case, it took the American bishops 17 years to figure out how to proceed, from the 1985 lawsuit against the Diocese of Lafayette, La., to the establishment of the Dallas Charter for the Protection of Children and Young People in 2002. The European bishops need to travel the same ground very quickly, and the Vatican needs to make zero tolerance the law for the universal church.
What Not to Do
While the Europeans can learn from what the American bishops got right at Dallas, they can also learn from the mistakes the Americans made during the crisis.
From the beginning, the American bishops underestimated the size and gravity of the problem. Prior to 1993, only one-third of the victims had come forward to report the abuse to their dioceses, so not even the church knew how bad the crisis was. Most victims do not want others to know they were abused, especially their parents, spouses, children and friends. Media coverage of abuse by clerics encouraged and empowered victims to come forward as they recognized they were not alone.
Today, Europeans are shocked by the hundreds of cases that are being reported. They should get ready for thousands more. In the United States over 5,000 priests, or 4 percent of the clergy, were responsible for 13,000 alleged instances of abuse over a 50-year period. There is no reason to think Europe is different. Hope for the best, but do the math and be prepared.
The biggest miscalculation the American bishops made was to think that the crisis would pass in a few months. Hunkering down and waiting for the storm to pass is a failed strategy. Unless they want this crisis to go on for years as it has done in the United States, the European bishops need to be transparent and encourage victims to come forward now. Better to get all the bad news out as soon as possible than to give the appearance of attempting a cover-up.
One school in Berlin, a Jesuit school, did the right thing. It knew of seven cases of abuse, went public, hired a female lawyer to go through their files and deal with victims and then wrote to the alumni asking victims to come forward. When at least 120 victims did so saying that they were abused at Jesuit schools in Germany, the foolish concluded that the school had been crazy to issue the invitation. But not only was it the Christian thing to do, it was also smart public relations. No one is accusing the current school administration of covering up. In addition, rather than having three to five years of negative publicity as one victim after another comes forward, they will endure a few months of unwanted publicity before the media move on to something else.
American bishops also made the mistake of blaming the media, faulting the permissive culture and trying to downplay clerical abuse by pointing out that there are 90,000 to 150,000 reported cases of sexual abuse of minors each year in the United States. While there is truth in all this, it is counterproductive for the bishops to make these arguments, which come across as excuses. Rather, the bishops should condemn the abuse, apologize and put in place policies to make sure that children are safe. Nor is one apology enough. Like an unfaithful spouse, they must apologize, apologize, apologize.
Finally, the American bishops excused themselves by saying they made mistakes but were not culpable because of their ignorance. Sorry; this won’t wash. American Catholics wanted some bishops to stand up and say: “I made a mistake; I moved this priest to another parish. I did not think he would abuse again. I got bad advice, but I take full responsibility. I am sorry and I resign.”
If 30 bishops in the United States had done this, the crisis would not have gone on as long as it did. People would have said, “Good, that is what leaders are supposed to do. They get it. With a new bishop we can have healing and move on.”
Bishops have to be willing to sacrifice for the sake of the whole church. It is a scandal that Cardinal Law was the only U.S. bishop to resign because of this crisis. It is encouraging that four Irish bishops have submitted their resignations. Unless the church wants this crisis to go on for years in Europe as it did in the United States, some bishops will have to resign.
Will the European bishops learn from the U.S. experience? I hope so.
What can European bishops learn from the U.S. sexual abuse crisis?
Thomas J. Reese
APRIL 26, 2010 America Magazine
W hen the story of sexual abuse of minors by members of the Catholic clergy and the story of how that abuse was dealt with by church officials exploded in the United States, most Vatican officials and European churchmen considered it an American problem. Then when Canada and Ireland experienced a similar crisis, it became a problem of the “English-speaking world.” Instead of seeing the crisis in the United States as a warning to put their own houses in order, too many European bishops continued with business as usual, believing that the crisis would not touch them.
Now that the crisis has arrived in Europe, what can the European bishops and the Vatican learn from the U.S. experience?
Begin with the context. The sexual abuse crisis did not start in Boston; it first came to public attention in the mid-1980s with a court case in Lafayette, La. The crisis was covered by The National Catholic Reporter long before The Boston Globe noticed it. It was in the mid-80s that insurance companies told bishops such cases would no longer be covered by their liability insurance. This should have gotten the attention of any prudent C.E.O.
A Long Learning Curve
Before 1985 few bishops handled these cases well. The tendency was to believe the priest when he said he would never do it again and to believe psychologists who said the priest could safely return to ministry. The bishops were compassionate and pastoral toward their priests, while forgetting their responsibility to be pastoral and protective of their flock. They tried to keep everything secret so as not to scandalize the faithful.
Between 1985 and 1992, the bishops began to learn more about the problem. They held closed-door sessions with experts at their semiannual meetings. At one closed meeting, at least one bishop told his brother bishops of the mistakes he had made and urged them not to do the same. The number of abuses declined during this period.
In 1992, under the leadership of Archbishop Daniel Pilarcyzk, the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops adopted a series of guidelines for dealing with sexual abuse. Data collected by researchers at the John Jay School of Criminal Justice show that the number of abuse cases plummeted in the 1990s, indicating that by that time most bishops “got it.” The guidelines were opposed by Cardinal Bernard Law, however, and ignored by other bishops. The guidelines were not binding on the bishops, and they continued to leave open the possibility that an abusive priest could return to ministry. And at a meeting in St. Louis, Mo., that same year, a group of psychologists who were treating priests urged the bishops to keep open the possibility of returning the priests to ministry.
The scandal in Boston showed that voluntary guidelines were insufficient. It also showed that no one trusted the bishops (or their advisors) to decide who could safely be returned to ministry. As a result, in 2002 the bishops, with Rome’s consent, imposed binding rules requiring zero tolerance of abuse, the reporting of accusations to the police and mandatory child protection programs in every diocese. Under the zero-tolerance rule adopted at their meeting in Dallas, any priest involved in abuse should never be able to return to ministry. In most cases, he was to be expelled from the priesthood, with possible exceptions if he is elderly and retired or infirm. The Dallas rules also required a lay committee in each diocese to review accusations against priests who are suspended from ministry while an investigation takes place. The Dallas rules were controversial in that many priests saw the zero-tolerance rule as draconian. They also feared false accusations and that the rules made them guilty until proven innocent. They objected that Dallas dealt only with priests, not with the bishops who were guilty of negligence.
In any case, it took the American bishops 17 years to figure out how to proceed, from the 1985 lawsuit against the Diocese of Lafayette, La., to the establishment of the Dallas Charter for the Protection of Children and Young People in 2002. The European bishops need to travel the same ground very quickly, and the Vatican needs to make zero tolerance the law for the universal church.
What Not to Do
While the Europeans can learn from what the American bishops got right at Dallas, they can also learn from the mistakes the Americans made during the crisis.
From the beginning, the American bishops underestimated the size and gravity of the problem. Prior to 1993, only one-third of the victims had come forward to report the abuse to their dioceses, so not even the church knew how bad the crisis was. Most victims do not want others to know they were abused, especially their parents, spouses, children and friends. Media coverage of abuse by clerics encouraged and empowered victims to come forward as they recognized they were not alone.
Today, Europeans are shocked by the hundreds of cases that are being reported. They should get ready for thousands more. In the United States over 5,000 priests, or 4 percent of the clergy, were responsible for 13,000 alleged instances of abuse over a 50-year period. There is no reason to think Europe is different. Hope for the best, but do the math and be prepared.
The biggest miscalculation the American bishops made was to think that the crisis would pass in a few months. Hunkering down and waiting for the storm to pass is a failed strategy. Unless they want this crisis to go on for years as it has done in the United States, the European bishops need to be transparent and encourage victims to come forward now. Better to get all the bad news out as soon as possible than to give the appearance of attempting a cover-up.
One school in Berlin, a Jesuit school, did the right thing. It knew of seven cases of abuse, went public, hired a female lawyer to go through their files and deal with victims and then wrote to the alumni asking victims to come forward. When at least 120 victims did so saying that they were abused at Jesuit schools in Germany, the foolish concluded that the school had been crazy to issue the invitation. But not only was it the Christian thing to do, it was also smart public relations. No one is accusing the current school administration of covering up. In addition, rather than having three to five years of negative publicity as one victim after another comes forward, they will endure a few months of unwanted publicity before the media move on to something else.
American bishops also made the mistake of blaming the media, faulting the permissive culture and trying to downplay clerical abuse by pointing out that there are 90,000 to 150,000 reported cases of sexual abuse of minors each year in the United States. While there is truth in all this, it is counterproductive for the bishops to make these arguments, which come across as excuses. Rather, the bishops should condemn the abuse, apologize and put in place policies to make sure that children are safe. Nor is one apology enough. Like an unfaithful spouse, they must apologize, apologize, apologize.
Finally, the American bishops excused themselves by saying they made mistakes but were not culpable because of their ignorance. Sorry; this won’t wash. American Catholics wanted some bishops to stand up and say: “I made a mistake; I moved this priest to another parish. I did not think he would abuse again. I got bad advice, but I take full responsibility. I am sorry and I resign.”
If 30 bishops in the United States had done this, the crisis would not have gone on as long as it did. People would have said, “Good, that is what leaders are supposed to do. They get it. With a new bishop we can have healing and move on.”
Bishops have to be willing to sacrifice for the sake of the whole church. It is a scandal that Cardinal Law was the only U.S. bishop to resign because of this crisis. It is encouraging that four Irish bishops have submitted their resignations. Unless the church wants this crisis to go on for years in Europe as it did in the United States, some bishops will have to resign.
Will the European bishops learn from the U.S. experience? I hope so.
A Sex Abuse Expert Sees Hope in Pope Benedict
BY TIM DRAKE, REGISTER SENIOR WRITER
Monica Applewhite is one of the foremost experts on screening, monitoring and policy development for the prevention of sexual abuse and risk management for those with histories of sexual offending. Applewhite has spent the past 16 years conducting research and root-cause analysis in the area of sexual abuse in organizations in order to assist organizations in developing best practice standards. Formerly with Praesidium Inc., she helped create an accreditation system for the Conference of Major Superiors of Men to hold them accountable to the highest standards of child protection. She has worked with more than 300 organizations that serve children and youth, including 28 Catholic dioceses, the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops, the U.S. Jesuit Conference, and the Congregation for Institutes of Consecrated Life and Societies of the Apostolic Life in Rome. Now director of Confianza LLC, a consulting firm specializing in standards of care and the dynamics of abuse in educational and religious environments she resides in Austin, Texas. Applewhite spoke with Register senior writer Tim Drake.
The sexual abuse of minors is not particular to the Catholic Church alone, is it?
Unfortunately, sexual abuse of minors and vulnerable adults happens in all organizations that serve these populations. What is distinctive for the Catholic Church is the saliency of the issue. Both Catholics and non-Catholics are interested in reading and hearing about sexual abuse in the Catholic Church for a variety of reasons. In some ways, this is fortunate for those of us who advocate for education and prevention
because it is an opportunity to address the issue within the Church while bringing to light a society-wide problem most people would prefer not to address.
Do you have any thoughts on why this has resurfaced at the time it has?
We have been through several cycles of media attention — first in 1985, then in 1992, again in 2002, and now in 2010. It’s not that we have new cases — the majority of the cases under discussion are still those from the ’60s, ’70s and early ’80s — but each time the issue arises we are able to analyze different aspects of the problem that should be addressed, from the harm that is caused, to the discipline for those who offend, to the long-term effects on victims, families and communities, and the need for accountability of leaders. This new wave of interest and new information seems to be focused on the need for scrutiny of the universal Church, not just the Church of the United States, and that is new. One of the positive outcomes of media consideration of the problem is that with each publicized case, more adults and young people both within the Church and outside of the Church are able to talk about their own experiences. The current media attention was sparked by cases in Germany and has led thousands of victims of abuse within the Catholic Church of Europe to come forward and report their own experiences. The German Church has set up a hotline, and thousands of people have already called in to report abuse. I am grateful that the hotline was set up and we can begin to identify the people who have been harmed in this way.
Tell me about your work addressing this issue through Praesidium with the Conference of Major Superiors of Men.
When the bishops of the U.S. issued the Charter for the Protection of Children and Young People, the Conference of Major Superiors of Men (CMSM) developed the "Instruments of Hope and Healing." The male religious superiors of the United States made a decision to hold themselves accountable to outside experts in the field through a system of accreditation for religious. CMSM selected Praesidium Inc. to conduct the accreditation visits and hold the religious communities accountable for 25 standards of excellence. My role was to oversee the development of the standards, the system of measurement to ensure that standards were met, and the educational program for the major superiors. We were very strict in our interpretation and verification process. I directed the accreditation program through its first three-year cycle. Is there much of a difference for how these cases are handled by religious institutes vs. dioceses? Yes and no. Both the dioceses and the religious have committed themselves to reporting abuse to the civil authorities, to responding pastorally to victims and to investigating all abuse allegations. In these cases, the dioceses are meant to follow the charter, and the religious are to follow the accreditation standards. Religious are also required to follow the charter with respect to prohibiting all public ministry, but this requirement is also in the accreditation standards. The primary distinction is probably in terms of what happens to the individual priest or religious who is found to have sexually abused a minor. The charter clearly states that clerics who have sexually offended a minor or minors cannot be in any form of public ministry, but the document does not address standards for their supervision if they remain in the priesthood. Religious accreditation actually has specific standards to address the requirements for supervision, support and accountability system for these men.
In the Church’s handling of this issue, can you tell me what the Church has done right?
The Church in the U.S. is the first large-scale organization to take two important steps toward healing and prevention of future incidents of abuse. We are the first to conduct a full prevalence study to determine how many incidents, how many victims and how many perpetrators of abuse there were from 1950 to 2002. The John Jay College [of Criminal Justice] conducted this comprehensive research, and it is published on the USCCB website. Anyone who truly wants to know "the problem" we are facing should review the findings. Secondly, the Roman Church is the first institution of its size to implement a full program of accountability to ensure the implementation of its reform efforts. Again, an outside team, the Gavin Group, has conducted the audits of the dioceses. Large-scale organizational change, deep cultural change simply does not happen without accountability.
Is there much of a difference between what happens when a priest is accused today and what happened prior to 2002 (when the charter and norms were adopted)?
In most situations, no. The reforms of the Church began long before 2002. As laws changed, as understanding of sexual abuse and sexual offenders developed, so did the procedures of the Church in most local dioceses and communities. It was 1992 when the bishops first began following the "Five Principles," which included pastoral outreach to victims, investigations and open communication with communities. Published in 1992, the bishops’ five principles were: 1) respond promptly to all allegations of abuse, 2) relieve the alleged offender promptly of his ministerial duties and refer him for appropriate medical evaluation and intervention, 3) comply with the obligations of civil law as regards reporting of the incident, 4) reach out to the victims and their families, and 5) deal as openly as possible with the members of the community. What changed in 2002 was a dramatic improvement in uniformity, both within and across dioceses and religious communities. The toughest situations have always been when the allegation is against an extremely talented and charismatic priest, religious or lay minister. These are the situations in any organization that are the most divisive, the most difficult and the most likely to be handled improperly. When the allegation seems impossible, in the absence of accountability, there is often a temptation to hope the situation will just "go away." In 2002, listening to stories of victims who were abused by just this type of offender, the bishops and religious superiors made commitments that would end "the exceptions." These commitments and the associated accountability also addressed the fact that some leaders had simply elected not to follow the guidance of the five principles, and that also brought greater uniformity to the handling of allegations.
What criticisms remain regarding the Church’s handling of these cases?
Much of the public criticism of the Church’s early handling of cases stems from a lack of knowledge about the historical context of this phenomenon. I have seen newspaper articles criticizing officials for not reporting acts of abuse to the civil authorities during years when there were no child protective services and the particular behaviors involved were not criminalized yet. It is fair for criticism of decisions made in the ’60s and ’70s to focus on interpretation of moral behavior, weakness in the resolve of leaders or even the disregard of procedures set out in canon law. By the same token, it is essential to separate this from expectations that are based on the laws and standards of today. We began studying sexual abuse in the 1970s, discovered it caused real harm in 1978, and realized perpetrators were difficult to rehabilitate in the 1990s. During the ’70s when we were sending offenders to treatment, the criminal justice system was doing the very same thing with convicted offenders — sending them to treatment instead of prison. At the time, it was believed they could be cured with relative ease. This is a very young body of knowledge, and as we sort through both valid and questionable criticisms, we must consider the historical context of any given episode. Regarding the work that remains to be done, the most pressing concern for me is the lack of protocols to guide the supervision and accountability for priests and religious who have been accused or found to have sexually offended in the past or who have completed their obligations to the criminal justice system. There continues to be a belief that aging and the passing of time will render these men safe. I understand we cannot supervise them if they are no longer a priest or religious, but as long as they are, we should strive to know how they spend their time and whether they are upholding the limits that have been placed on them.
Much criticism has been leveled at Pope Benedict XVI. Do you view that criticism as valid?
From my perspective, deep change in the culture of the Vatican began with Cardinal Ratzinger and has been solidified since he became Pope Benedict XVI. When I began working with priests who had sexually offended, they would sometimes try to intimidate me with threats that if they "sent their case to Rome" to appeal how they were treated, that they would "win." This was in response to my developing systems to hold them accountable for how they spent their time, who they visited and whether the people in their lives were aware of the sexual abuse they had committed. Many times I heard, "You are in violation of my rights!" They clearly felt they had the upper hand. Since that time, and particularly since 2000, the balance of power has shifted. I have since worked with many priests and religious who have sexually offended against minors, and if you ask them today, they would be very unlikely to assume that "Rome" is on their side. Today, clerical and religious sexual offenders recognize they can be laicized for their crimes or for a failure to adhere to obedience. This gives us much more leverage in terms of ensuring adherence to safety provisions. Several men I know have "tested" the CDF (Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith) and found no tolerance for
sexual abuse in the priesthood and no sympathy for the cleric who disagrees with programs of prayer and penance. Evidence of where Pope Benedict XVI stands can be found in the following examples: 1. He was the one who declared the use of Internet and other forms of child pornography to be a delictum gravius (a "grave delict") — the same as a contact offense with a minor. He came to this conclusion at a time when many criminal jurisdictions were still debating the criminality of Internet pornography. 2. When he [became Pope], he appointed Cardinal [William] Levada from the U.S., clearly the country most likely to produce a stringent successor. As the prefect of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, Cardinal Levada has continued the legacy of increasingly strong response to sexual offenses by priests and religious. 3. The victims of sexual abuse who met with the Holy Father here in the U.S. were deeply touched by their meeting. They said they felt like he knew their cases personally. It is possible he did or that he has just known so many that are similar. I give great credibility to those victims who met with him personally. If they say he "gets it," I am inclined to believe them. It is also important to know that in Pope Benedict XVI we have the individual who has seen more cases of sexual abuse in the Catholic Church than perhaps anyone else in the world. I believe he knows how serious the problem is, and that he understands the sacrifices that have to be made to fix it. Do you know why then-Cardinal Ratzinger suggested that the cases be handled by the CDF rather than the Congregation for Clergy? I cannot say why Cardinal Ratzinger implemented the system of all cases being handled by the CDF in 2001, but I can speak to my own experience of this change. Prior to 2001, some cases of sexual abuse were sent to the CDF, some to the Congregation for Clergy, some to the Congregation for Religious, and some religious communities sent cases to their own general superiors. As you can imagine, this made for considerable variation in the response and handling of the cases, because the various congregations made their own interpretations and could be more or less inclined toward stringency or
leniency. I was involved in investigations and review of cases to be sent to Rome beginning in 1996. Back then, the process was very slow, and it was difficult to predict whether the evidence would be considered "enough" for a conviction in the ecclesiastical system. Since 2001, the system has become much more uniform. There is a "form" of how to write up the case so that all allegations and the outcomes of investigations are clearly documented. Many trials are held locally, and the process is much faster. Even more importantly, the CDF gives support and credibility to bishops and superiors who are involved in disciplinary procedures, from removal from ministry to laicization. I still believe the rights of priests and religious are respected and upheld, but there is a greater attention to the needs of the community to be safe from harm. In dealing with this issue, you’ve really seen the dark side of humanity and individuals within the Church.
You’re still Catholic, aren’t you? How has it impacted your faith?
This is a question I actually get fairly often. Even though much of my adult life has been spent dealing with sexual abuse in the Church and other organizations, I’m still Catholic. I will share with you that at first it wasn’t easy. I spent about three years struggling with what I learned about the Church … how people were hurt by those they trusted, how leaders would not listen and members of their communities turned away from the ones who had been hurt. The saddest part for me was being turned away myself in the beginning when I offered to help. That was very painful. I cannot say it ever affected my feelings of closeness with God, but I felt an emotional distance from the Church as an organization. It was my work with religious communities that started me on the road back to the Church. I began working with religious and spending whole weeks living in their communities, coming to know the work that they did, listening to the ways in which their ministries touched the lives of so many people. Through this work with religious, the work with victims of abuse, and the development of response systems, I began to feel close to the Church again, to fall back in love. This time was different though. I don’t think I have a trace of "infatuation" with the Church. I love it like you love your spouse after 40 years of marriage. I love it in its faults and failings. I love it all the more for the intensity of its humanness; perfection is not part of the bargain. Once, a few years ago, a religious community set up a graveside service for a survivor of abuse who wanted closure. His perpetrator was deceased. We walked a long way to the cemetery. There, we prayed and let him read his letter. All of us cried and held hands. I think we each cried for different reasons. Yes, my work has forced me to face the dark side of humanity and the Church, but it has also allowed me to witness grace and beauty in those moments when we need it most.
Do you think this is going to end up defining Benedict’s papacy?
Perhaps, but not in a negative way. Now that so much information is coming forward I believe two things will happen. First, we will all be privy to the information we need in order to understand how much Pope Benedict’s resolve and commitment have already changed the system within our Church. We needed a pope that did not mind being considered "tough" and that is what we have. Instead of change happening "behind the scenes," we will know about it. Second, all of the media attention and worldwide interest will give Pope Benedict just the political opportunity and leverage he needs to change the Church culture of silence and protection throughout the world much faster. He won’t have to "sell" change in the way he would have if this had not happened. Many of the barriers he has encountered for more than a decade will be broken down. I believe this will solidify his legacy as the agent of change and restoration of the Church for which he would want to be remembered.
Tim Drake writes from St. Joseph, Minnesota. Beat the mailman! Read the content our print subscribers enjoy even before it gets to their mailboxes with a digital-only subscription to the Register for only $29.95 per year. Or click here to see options for subscribing to the print edition, and get 3 free issues with no risk and no obligation.
http://www.ncregister.com/register_exclusives/change_in_vatican_culture/
Monica Applewhite is one of the foremost experts on screening, monitoring and policy development for the prevention of sexual abuse and risk management for those with histories of sexual offending. Applewhite has spent the past 16 years conducting research and root-cause analysis in the area of sexual abuse in organizations in order to assist organizations in developing best practice standards. Formerly with Praesidium Inc., she helped create an accreditation system for the Conference of Major Superiors of Men to hold them accountable to the highest standards of child protection. She has worked with more than 300 organizations that serve children and youth, including 28 Catholic dioceses, the U.S. Conference of Catholic Bishops, the U.S. Jesuit Conference, and the Congregation for Institutes of Consecrated Life and Societies of the Apostolic Life in Rome. Now director of Confianza LLC, a consulting firm specializing in standards of care and the dynamics of abuse in educational and religious environments she resides in Austin, Texas. Applewhite spoke with Register senior writer Tim Drake.
The sexual abuse of minors is not particular to the Catholic Church alone, is it?
Unfortunately, sexual abuse of minors and vulnerable adults happens in all organizations that serve these populations. What is distinctive for the Catholic Church is the saliency of the issue. Both Catholics and non-Catholics are interested in reading and hearing about sexual abuse in the Catholic Church for a variety of reasons. In some ways, this is fortunate for those of us who advocate for education and prevention
because it is an opportunity to address the issue within the Church while bringing to light a society-wide problem most people would prefer not to address.
Do you have any thoughts on why this has resurfaced at the time it has?
We have been through several cycles of media attention — first in 1985, then in 1992, again in 2002, and now in 2010. It’s not that we have new cases — the majority of the cases under discussion are still those from the ’60s, ’70s and early ’80s — but each time the issue arises we are able to analyze different aspects of the problem that should be addressed, from the harm that is caused, to the discipline for those who offend, to the long-term effects on victims, families and communities, and the need for accountability of leaders. This new wave of interest and new information seems to be focused on the need for scrutiny of the universal Church, not just the Church of the United States, and that is new. One of the positive outcomes of media consideration of the problem is that with each publicized case, more adults and young people both within the Church and outside of the Church are able to talk about their own experiences. The current media attention was sparked by cases in Germany and has led thousands of victims of abuse within the Catholic Church of Europe to come forward and report their own experiences. The German Church has set up a hotline, and thousands of people have already called in to report abuse. I am grateful that the hotline was set up and we can begin to identify the people who have been harmed in this way.
Tell me about your work addressing this issue through Praesidium with the Conference of Major Superiors of Men.
When the bishops of the U.S. issued the Charter for the Protection of Children and Young People, the Conference of Major Superiors of Men (CMSM) developed the "Instruments of Hope and Healing." The male religious superiors of the United States made a decision to hold themselves accountable to outside experts in the field through a system of accreditation for religious. CMSM selected Praesidium Inc. to conduct the accreditation visits and hold the religious communities accountable for 25 standards of excellence. My role was to oversee the development of the standards, the system of measurement to ensure that standards were met, and the educational program for the major superiors. We were very strict in our interpretation and verification process. I directed the accreditation program through its first three-year cycle. Is there much of a difference for how these cases are handled by religious institutes vs. dioceses? Yes and no. Both the dioceses and the religious have committed themselves to reporting abuse to the civil authorities, to responding pastorally to victims and to investigating all abuse allegations. In these cases, the dioceses are meant to follow the charter, and the religious are to follow the accreditation standards. Religious are also required to follow the charter with respect to prohibiting all public ministry, but this requirement is also in the accreditation standards. The primary distinction is probably in terms of what happens to the individual priest or religious who is found to have sexually abused a minor. The charter clearly states that clerics who have sexually offended a minor or minors cannot be in any form of public ministry, but the document does not address standards for their supervision if they remain in the priesthood. Religious accreditation actually has specific standards to address the requirements for supervision, support and accountability system for these men.
In the Church’s handling of this issue, can you tell me what the Church has done right?
The Church in the U.S. is the first large-scale organization to take two important steps toward healing and prevention of future incidents of abuse. We are the first to conduct a full prevalence study to determine how many incidents, how many victims and how many perpetrators of abuse there were from 1950 to 2002. The John Jay College [of Criminal Justice] conducted this comprehensive research, and it is published on the USCCB website. Anyone who truly wants to know "the problem" we are facing should review the findings. Secondly, the Roman Church is the first institution of its size to implement a full program of accountability to ensure the implementation of its reform efforts. Again, an outside team, the Gavin Group, has conducted the audits of the dioceses. Large-scale organizational change, deep cultural change simply does not happen without accountability.
Is there much of a difference between what happens when a priest is accused today and what happened prior to 2002 (when the charter and norms were adopted)?
In most situations, no. The reforms of the Church began long before 2002. As laws changed, as understanding of sexual abuse and sexual offenders developed, so did the procedures of the Church in most local dioceses and communities. It was 1992 when the bishops first began following the "Five Principles," which included pastoral outreach to victims, investigations and open communication with communities. Published in 1992, the bishops’ five principles were: 1) respond promptly to all allegations of abuse, 2) relieve the alleged offender promptly of his ministerial duties and refer him for appropriate medical evaluation and intervention, 3) comply with the obligations of civil law as regards reporting of the incident, 4) reach out to the victims and their families, and 5) deal as openly as possible with the members of the community. What changed in 2002 was a dramatic improvement in uniformity, both within and across dioceses and religious communities. The toughest situations have always been when the allegation is against an extremely talented and charismatic priest, religious or lay minister. These are the situations in any organization that are the most divisive, the most difficult and the most likely to be handled improperly. When the allegation seems impossible, in the absence of accountability, there is often a temptation to hope the situation will just "go away." In 2002, listening to stories of victims who were abused by just this type of offender, the bishops and religious superiors made commitments that would end "the exceptions." These commitments and the associated accountability also addressed the fact that some leaders had simply elected not to follow the guidance of the five principles, and that also brought greater uniformity to the handling of allegations.
What criticisms remain regarding the Church’s handling of these cases?
Much of the public criticism of the Church’s early handling of cases stems from a lack of knowledge about the historical context of this phenomenon. I have seen newspaper articles criticizing officials for not reporting acts of abuse to the civil authorities during years when there were no child protective services and the particular behaviors involved were not criminalized yet. It is fair for criticism of decisions made in the ’60s and ’70s to focus on interpretation of moral behavior, weakness in the resolve of leaders or even the disregard of procedures set out in canon law. By the same token, it is essential to separate this from expectations that are based on the laws and standards of today. We began studying sexual abuse in the 1970s, discovered it caused real harm in 1978, and realized perpetrators were difficult to rehabilitate in the 1990s. During the ’70s when we were sending offenders to treatment, the criminal justice system was doing the very same thing with convicted offenders — sending them to treatment instead of prison. At the time, it was believed they could be cured with relative ease. This is a very young body of knowledge, and as we sort through both valid and questionable criticisms, we must consider the historical context of any given episode. Regarding the work that remains to be done, the most pressing concern for me is the lack of protocols to guide the supervision and accountability for priests and religious who have been accused or found to have sexually offended in the past or who have completed their obligations to the criminal justice system. There continues to be a belief that aging and the passing of time will render these men safe. I understand we cannot supervise them if they are no longer a priest or religious, but as long as they are, we should strive to know how they spend their time and whether they are upholding the limits that have been placed on them.
Much criticism has been leveled at Pope Benedict XVI. Do you view that criticism as valid?
From my perspective, deep change in the culture of the Vatican began with Cardinal Ratzinger and has been solidified since he became Pope Benedict XVI. When I began working with priests who had sexually offended, they would sometimes try to intimidate me with threats that if they "sent their case to Rome" to appeal how they were treated, that they would "win." This was in response to my developing systems to hold them accountable for how they spent their time, who they visited and whether the people in their lives were aware of the sexual abuse they had committed. Many times I heard, "You are in violation of my rights!" They clearly felt they had the upper hand. Since that time, and particularly since 2000, the balance of power has shifted. I have since worked with many priests and religious who have sexually offended against minors, and if you ask them today, they would be very unlikely to assume that "Rome" is on their side. Today, clerical and religious sexual offenders recognize they can be laicized for their crimes or for a failure to adhere to obedience. This gives us much more leverage in terms of ensuring adherence to safety provisions. Several men I know have "tested" the CDF (Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith) and found no tolerance for
sexual abuse in the priesthood and no sympathy for the cleric who disagrees with programs of prayer and penance. Evidence of where Pope Benedict XVI stands can be found in the following examples: 1. He was the one who declared the use of Internet and other forms of child pornography to be a delictum gravius (a "grave delict") — the same as a contact offense with a minor. He came to this conclusion at a time when many criminal jurisdictions were still debating the criminality of Internet pornography. 2. When he [became Pope], he appointed Cardinal [William] Levada from the U.S., clearly the country most likely to produce a stringent successor. As the prefect of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, Cardinal Levada has continued the legacy of increasingly strong response to sexual offenses by priests and religious. 3. The victims of sexual abuse who met with the Holy Father here in the U.S. were deeply touched by their meeting. They said they felt like he knew their cases personally. It is possible he did or that he has just known so many that are similar. I give great credibility to those victims who met with him personally. If they say he "gets it," I am inclined to believe them. It is also important to know that in Pope Benedict XVI we have the individual who has seen more cases of sexual abuse in the Catholic Church than perhaps anyone else in the world. I believe he knows how serious the problem is, and that he understands the sacrifices that have to be made to fix it. Do you know why then-Cardinal Ratzinger suggested that the cases be handled by the CDF rather than the Congregation for Clergy? I cannot say why Cardinal Ratzinger implemented the system of all cases being handled by the CDF in 2001, but I can speak to my own experience of this change. Prior to 2001, some cases of sexual abuse were sent to the CDF, some to the Congregation for Clergy, some to the Congregation for Religious, and some religious communities sent cases to their own general superiors. As you can imagine, this made for considerable variation in the response and handling of the cases, because the various congregations made their own interpretations and could be more or less inclined toward stringency or
leniency. I was involved in investigations and review of cases to be sent to Rome beginning in 1996. Back then, the process was very slow, and it was difficult to predict whether the evidence would be considered "enough" for a conviction in the ecclesiastical system. Since 2001, the system has become much more uniform. There is a "form" of how to write up the case so that all allegations and the outcomes of investigations are clearly documented. Many trials are held locally, and the process is much faster. Even more importantly, the CDF gives support and credibility to bishops and superiors who are involved in disciplinary procedures, from removal from ministry to laicization. I still believe the rights of priests and religious are respected and upheld, but there is a greater attention to the needs of the community to be safe from harm. In dealing with this issue, you’ve really seen the dark side of humanity and individuals within the Church.
You’re still Catholic, aren’t you? How has it impacted your faith?
This is a question I actually get fairly often. Even though much of my adult life has been spent dealing with sexual abuse in the Church and other organizations, I’m still Catholic. I will share with you that at first it wasn’t easy. I spent about three years struggling with what I learned about the Church … how people were hurt by those they trusted, how leaders would not listen and members of their communities turned away from the ones who had been hurt. The saddest part for me was being turned away myself in the beginning when I offered to help. That was very painful. I cannot say it ever affected my feelings of closeness with God, but I felt an emotional distance from the Church as an organization. It was my work with religious communities that started me on the road back to the Church. I began working with religious and spending whole weeks living in their communities, coming to know the work that they did, listening to the ways in which their ministries touched the lives of so many people. Through this work with religious, the work with victims of abuse, and the development of response systems, I began to feel close to the Church again, to fall back in love. This time was different though. I don’t think I have a trace of "infatuation" with the Church. I love it like you love your spouse after 40 years of marriage. I love it in its faults and failings. I love it all the more for the intensity of its humanness; perfection is not part of the bargain. Once, a few years ago, a religious community set up a graveside service for a survivor of abuse who wanted closure. His perpetrator was deceased. We walked a long way to the cemetery. There, we prayed and let him read his letter. All of us cried and held hands. I think we each cried for different reasons. Yes, my work has forced me to face the dark side of humanity and the Church, but it has also allowed me to witness grace and beauty in those moments when we need it most.
Do you think this is going to end up defining Benedict’s papacy?
Perhaps, but not in a negative way. Now that so much information is coming forward I believe two things will happen. First, we will all be privy to the information we need in order to understand how much Pope Benedict’s resolve and commitment have already changed the system within our Church. We needed a pope that did not mind being considered "tough" and that is what we have. Instead of change happening "behind the scenes," we will know about it. Second, all of the media attention and worldwide interest will give Pope Benedict just the political opportunity and leverage he needs to change the Church culture of silence and protection throughout the world much faster. He won’t have to "sell" change in the way he would have if this had not happened. Many of the barriers he has encountered for more than a decade will be broken down. I believe this will solidify his legacy as the agent of change and restoration of the Church for which he would want to be remembered.
Tim Drake writes from St. Joseph, Minnesota. Beat the mailman! Read the content our print subscribers enjoy even before it gets to their mailboxes with a digital-only subscription to the Register for only $29.95 per year. Or click here to see options for subscribing to the print edition, and get 3 free issues with no risk and no obligation.
http://www.ncregister.com/register_exclusives/change_in_vatican_culture/
Friday, April 2, 2010
Anonymous Postings
When I announced this blog in the parish bulletin, I invited all nature of comment - positive or negative. The only Comments I won't publish are those that are vulgar, ad hominem, or unsigned/anonymous Comments.
That the first two types are inadmissible ought to be self-evident. The third is inadmissible because I think its proper for people to stand behind what they say.
Dan McLellan, OFM
That the first two types are inadmissible ought to be self-evident. The third is inadmissible because I think its proper for people to stand behind what they say.
Dan McLellan, OFM
Monday, March 29, 2010
Thoughts I Can Identify With
I came across this piece in The National Catholic Reporter. They are thoughts I can identify with. I love our church building. It's an elegant and holy place. But it can't compare with the elegance and holiness of the people who fill it!
Fr. Dan
Life of a parish, the real jewels of the church
Mar. 27, 2010
By Melissa Musick Nussbaum
Our parish was “restored,” “remodeled,” “renewed” or “ruined” a few years ago. The verb choice varies according to the liturgical politics of the speaker. If the visitor decries the lack of a tabernacle above the high altar, I know what’s coming as surely as I do if another visitor approves the front three ranks of moveable wooden chairs.
The wooden chairs, like the pews behind them, have attached kneelers, which should please everyone. It doesn’t. Enthusiasm for curved seating is canceled out be dismay for the kneelers. Enthusiasm for kneelers is canceled out by dismay for the curved seating.
And don’t get me started on the doubled-edged sword – or butter knife, depending upon one’s point of view – that is “On Eagle’s Wings.”
As we are in the Age of the Parish Mission Statement, I sometimes think mother church should take a page from Merle Haggard’s song and simply headline out bulletins and bulletin boards with his immortal phrase, “Mama Tried.”
Of course, for the cognoscenti, one need only mention the name of the liturgical consultant who helped us with the work – Fr. Richard Vosko – and the response is immediate and strong. Like a character in a 19th-century melodrama, Vosko’s appearance on the stage elicits either cheers or boos but nothing in between. Indeed, I am told that in some circles he is known, like a liturgical Vlad the Impaler, as “Vosko the Destroyer,” in which case he needs to lose the earth-toned hush puppies and look for a cape.
I mention this because I tend to think of the great divide only when we have a visitor to the parish. The features of the building (so interesting when we were in the planning stage and under construction and when we first moved back into the space) have dimmed for me as the features of parishioners’ faces have grown ever brighter.
I can’t remember the last time I registered the new baptismal font -- an item on the liturgically correct/incorrect checklist -- except to remember the days our grandchildren went down into the water and came up wet and screaming, or the Easter Vigil when the numerous newly adopted children in one parish family went in and came out of the water smiling all the way. I remember other children, other adults in that life-giving bath, all of them greeted with songs and tears and prayers and clean towels.
I remember the coffin of a friend’s son as it lay before the font. Her son had killed himself, and Suicide had become both his fate and his name. The celebrant called out the name given him at his baptism and reminded us that he had died with Christ and so had died, though perhaps himself unable to comprehend it, in the hope of everlasting life.
My daughter turned to me and said, “They’ve given him his name back.” The church had restored his name as its waters had given him life. I doubt a single member of our community that day was remarking upon the size or placement of the font, except to give thanks for its power and its presence.
There are things I do register. I check Sunday after Sunday to see if Helen is in her customary seat near the west side of the church. Since Mitch died, we worry about her ability to make the 8:45 in bad weather. And then I glance across the altar to the section reserved for the deaf in our parish. I want to see Connie there with her son, Roy, and her granddaughter, Katarina. Connie has had some nasty falls, and if she is not at Mass, chances are she is in the hospital.
I look for David and his twins. For Marge and her daughter. For Will. For Barbie. For Jerry, due back from India. For Rita. If Bob is with her, I know he is having a good day. I look for Michelle and Chuck and Barbara, all of whom have suffered and survived.
I look at the choir and see Mike and hear again as he sings the names of our beloved dead each November. I remember the first November when his own daughter’s name was among those he sang. I look for Tom and Michael.
I look for Pat, who, when he is not with us, is ministering at the county jail. I look for Esperanza, who will watch the servers and shove them forward when they forget their jobs.
I look for John Francis, who bounces, and Juliet, who grins, and Jane, who wanders over for a hug.
I scan the entrance for our grandchildren, who clump a noisy counterpoint to the opening hymn as they race up the aisle and into our laps.
I check the back of the church for the dark heads of Mia and Nico bent over the baby’s own dark locks. I can feel peace as I count them like a mother at bedtime or mealtime, each beloved face in its place.
And I know what the visitor cannot -- the life of this parish that was vibrant and strangely beautiful even when we stood together under scaffolding and brought stadium blankets to wear against the chill from unfinished walls and windows.
I’m glad we kept the old windows and grateful we had the statues repainted, but St. Mary’s true ornaments have always been built of the same sturdy stuff as her walls and roof: the people who gather here to pray and to ask for prayer, to praise and to give thanks, to serve God and one another.
The story is told of St. Lawrence that upon his arrest during the Valerian persecutions in the third century, he was ordered to surrender the church riches to Roman authorities. Deacon Lawrence, we hear, went out and gathered people, members of the church, and brought them before the Roman prefect. “Here,” he said to his accusers, “are the jewels of the church.”
I know just what he meant.
[Melissa Musick Nussbaum lives in Colorado Springs, Colo. She is coauthor, with Jana Bennett, of Free to Stay, Free to Leave: Fruits of the Spirit and Church Choice.]
Fr. Dan
Life of a parish, the real jewels of the church
Mar. 27, 2010
By Melissa Musick Nussbaum
Our parish was “restored,” “remodeled,” “renewed” or “ruined” a few years ago. The verb choice varies according to the liturgical politics of the speaker. If the visitor decries the lack of a tabernacle above the high altar, I know what’s coming as surely as I do if another visitor approves the front three ranks of moveable wooden chairs.
The wooden chairs, like the pews behind them, have attached kneelers, which should please everyone. It doesn’t. Enthusiasm for curved seating is canceled out be dismay for the kneelers. Enthusiasm for kneelers is canceled out by dismay for the curved seating.
And don’t get me started on the doubled-edged sword – or butter knife, depending upon one’s point of view – that is “On Eagle’s Wings.”
As we are in the Age of the Parish Mission Statement, I sometimes think mother church should take a page from Merle Haggard’s song and simply headline out bulletins and bulletin boards with his immortal phrase, “Mama Tried.”
Of course, for the cognoscenti, one need only mention the name of the liturgical consultant who helped us with the work – Fr. Richard Vosko – and the response is immediate and strong. Like a character in a 19th-century melodrama, Vosko’s appearance on the stage elicits either cheers or boos but nothing in between. Indeed, I am told that in some circles he is known, like a liturgical Vlad the Impaler, as “Vosko the Destroyer,” in which case he needs to lose the earth-toned hush puppies and look for a cape.
I mention this because I tend to think of the great divide only when we have a visitor to the parish. The features of the building (so interesting when we were in the planning stage and under construction and when we first moved back into the space) have dimmed for me as the features of parishioners’ faces have grown ever brighter.
I can’t remember the last time I registered the new baptismal font -- an item on the liturgically correct/incorrect checklist -- except to remember the days our grandchildren went down into the water and came up wet and screaming, or the Easter Vigil when the numerous newly adopted children in one parish family went in and came out of the water smiling all the way. I remember other children, other adults in that life-giving bath, all of them greeted with songs and tears and prayers and clean towels.
I remember the coffin of a friend’s son as it lay before the font. Her son had killed himself, and Suicide had become both his fate and his name. The celebrant called out the name given him at his baptism and reminded us that he had died with Christ and so had died, though perhaps himself unable to comprehend it, in the hope of everlasting life.
My daughter turned to me and said, “They’ve given him his name back.” The church had restored his name as its waters had given him life. I doubt a single member of our community that day was remarking upon the size or placement of the font, except to give thanks for its power and its presence.
There are things I do register. I check Sunday after Sunday to see if Helen is in her customary seat near the west side of the church. Since Mitch died, we worry about her ability to make the 8:45 in bad weather. And then I glance across the altar to the section reserved for the deaf in our parish. I want to see Connie there with her son, Roy, and her granddaughter, Katarina. Connie has had some nasty falls, and if she is not at Mass, chances are she is in the hospital.
I look for David and his twins. For Marge and her daughter. For Will. For Barbie. For Jerry, due back from India. For Rita. If Bob is with her, I know he is having a good day. I look for Michelle and Chuck and Barbara, all of whom have suffered and survived.
I look at the choir and see Mike and hear again as he sings the names of our beloved dead each November. I remember the first November when his own daughter’s name was among those he sang. I look for Tom and Michael.
I look for Pat, who, when he is not with us, is ministering at the county jail. I look for Esperanza, who will watch the servers and shove them forward when they forget their jobs.
I look for John Francis, who bounces, and Juliet, who grins, and Jane, who wanders over for a hug.
I scan the entrance for our grandchildren, who clump a noisy counterpoint to the opening hymn as they race up the aisle and into our laps.
I check the back of the church for the dark heads of Mia and Nico bent over the baby’s own dark locks. I can feel peace as I count them like a mother at bedtime or mealtime, each beloved face in its place.
And I know what the visitor cannot -- the life of this parish that was vibrant and strangely beautiful even when we stood together under scaffolding and brought stadium blankets to wear against the chill from unfinished walls and windows.
I’m glad we kept the old windows and grateful we had the statues repainted, but St. Mary’s true ornaments have always been built of the same sturdy stuff as her walls and roof: the people who gather here to pray and to ask for prayer, to praise and to give thanks, to serve God and one another.
The story is told of St. Lawrence that upon his arrest during the Valerian persecutions in the third century, he was ordered to surrender the church riches to Roman authorities. Deacon Lawrence, we hear, went out and gathered people, members of the church, and brought them before the Roman prefect. “Here,” he said to his accusers, “are the jewels of the church.”
I know just what he meant.
[Melissa Musick Nussbaum lives in Colorado Springs, Colo. She is coauthor, with Jana Bennett, of Free to Stay, Free to Leave: Fruits of the Spirit and Church Choice.]
Thursday, March 18, 2010
There is no "Christian" Torture
Fr. Steve Patti
published in the Herald-Sun
There is a new book called “Courting Disaster: How the C.I.A. Kept America Safe and How Barack Obama is Inviting the Next Attack,” by Marc A. Thiessen. In the book, the author makes the claim that waterboarding, a form of torture that we have become familiar with over the past few years, is not only useful and desirable, but also permitted by the teachings of the Catholic Church. Mr. Thiessen describes himself as a practicing Roman Catholic.
Mr. Thiessen draws on the Catechism of the Catholic Church which states that “the defense of the common good requires that an unjust aggressor be rendered unable to do harm.” In his book he writes: “If this principle applies to taking human life, it must certainly apply to coercive interrogation as well. A captured terrorist is an unjust aggressor who retains the power to kill many thousands by withholding information about planned attacks.” In a recent homily at Immaculate Conception Catholic Church here in Durham, I asked the question: As Catholics, how do we respond to Marc Thiessen’s claim? As Catholics, can we ever justify torture?
It’s a sensitive issue for sure. Almost nine years after September 11, 2001, that day haunts us still. We will never forget the images from that day. I remember a cartoon that appeared in the newspaper a week or so after the attacks. It showed a person looking at a computer screen, right hand on the mouse, ready to click, and on the screen were two words – “freedom” and “security.” Which do you choose? We still wrestle with that question today.
It’s a sensitive issue as well because some of our brothers and sisters or sons and daughters or friends or neighbors have served, and continue to serve, bravely in our armed services.
When torture came up during the war in Iraq, you sometimes heard people say “you have to do what you have to do in times of war.” Or “sometimes what Jesus says in the gospel doesn’t work in the real world. We have to be realistic.”
Whatever we might think about torture or “coercive interrogation,” the teaching of the Catholic Church is that torture is wrong. “The Pastoral Constitution on the Church in the Modern World,” a document from the Second Vatican Council, refers to the words of Jesus from the gospel of Matthew, “As you did to one of the least of my brothers and sisters, you did it to me.” The document then powerfully lists what it calls “varieties of crimes” against these brothers and sisters. These include: “all offenses against life itself, such as murder, genocide, abortion, and euthanasia; all violations of the integrity of the human person, such as physical and mental torture, undue psychological pressures; all offenses against human dignity, such as subhuman living conditions, arbitrary imprisonment, deportation, slavery, the selling of women and children, degrading working conditions where people are treated as mere tools for profit rather than free and responsible persons: all these and the like are criminal: they poison civilization; and they debase the perpetrators more than the victims and militate against the honor of the creator.”
This is strong language. Torture “debases the perpetrators.” In a survey taken in 2005, it was revealed that 74% of Catholics agreed that torture can be justified in at least rare occasions. In my homily, I asked the question, what happens to us (Catholics, or Americans) when we unreflectively accept a policy of torture from our government? I asked the question conscious, and respectful, of the brave military service of our troops. I asked the question, as well, very aware of the evil that was committed against our nation by the terrorists on September 11, 2001. Still, these words from the Second Vatican Council haunt us: are we, in some way, “debased” by our acceptance, or justification, of torture?
As a Franciscan friar, I am drawn to the life and witness of St. Francis of Assisi, who lived 800 years ago in the times of the Crusades. The East was at war with the West. Christians were fighting Muslims. Thousands were dying. St. Francis, drawing from his own experience of the gospel and its call to peace and reconciliation, sailed from Italy across the Mediterranean Sea to Egypt, marched through the Christian/Muslim battle lines, and asked to meet with the Sultan, the head of the Muslims. The soldiers, perhaps surprised by such a bold gesture on the part of this small, dressed-in-rags man, allowed him through. And as the story is told, Francis and the Sultan spoke, respectfully, of each other’s faith, and their own hopes for peace.
Was Francis naïve? Was he a fool for trying something so bold, so risky? Maybe he was. But he took the gospel and its call to radically re-think one’s life, its call to every person to be a bearer of peace and reconciliation, very seriously. As a nation that refers to itself as Christian, can we do the same?
Fr. Steve Patti
published in the Herald-Sun
There is a new book called “Courting Disaster: How the C.I.A. Kept America Safe and How Barack Obama is Inviting the Next Attack,” by Marc A. Thiessen. In the book, the author makes the claim that waterboarding, a form of torture that we have become familiar with over the past few years, is not only useful and desirable, but also permitted by the teachings of the Catholic Church. Mr. Thiessen describes himself as a practicing Roman Catholic.
Mr. Thiessen draws on the Catechism of the Catholic Church which states that “the defense of the common good requires that an unjust aggressor be rendered unable to do harm.” In his book he writes: “If this principle applies to taking human life, it must certainly apply to coercive interrogation as well. A captured terrorist is an unjust aggressor who retains the power to kill many thousands by withholding information about planned attacks.” In a recent homily at Immaculate Conception Catholic Church here in Durham, I asked the question: As Catholics, how do we respond to Marc Thiessen’s claim? As Catholics, can we ever justify torture?
It’s a sensitive issue for sure. Almost nine years after September 11, 2001, that day haunts us still. We will never forget the images from that day. I remember a cartoon that appeared in the newspaper a week or so after the attacks. It showed a person looking at a computer screen, right hand on the mouse, ready to click, and on the screen were two words – “freedom” and “security.” Which do you choose? We still wrestle with that question today.
It’s a sensitive issue as well because some of our brothers and sisters or sons and daughters or friends or neighbors have served, and continue to serve, bravely in our armed services.
When torture came up during the war in Iraq, you sometimes heard people say “you have to do what you have to do in times of war.” Or “sometimes what Jesus says in the gospel doesn’t work in the real world. We have to be realistic.”
Whatever we might think about torture or “coercive interrogation,” the teaching of the Catholic Church is that torture is wrong. “The Pastoral Constitution on the Church in the Modern World,” a document from the Second Vatican Council, refers to the words of Jesus from the gospel of Matthew, “As you did to one of the least of my brothers and sisters, you did it to me.” The document then powerfully lists what it calls “varieties of crimes” against these brothers and sisters. These include: “all offenses against life itself, such as murder, genocide, abortion, and euthanasia; all violations of the integrity of the human person, such as physical and mental torture, undue psychological pressures; all offenses against human dignity, such as subhuman living conditions, arbitrary imprisonment, deportation, slavery, the selling of women and children, degrading working conditions where people are treated as mere tools for profit rather than free and responsible persons: all these and the like are criminal: they poison civilization; and they debase the perpetrators more than the victims and militate against the honor of the creator.”
This is strong language. Torture “debases the perpetrators.” In a survey taken in 2005, it was revealed that 74% of Catholics agreed that torture can be justified in at least rare occasions. In my homily, I asked the question, what happens to us (Catholics, or Americans) when we unreflectively accept a policy of torture from our government? I asked the question conscious, and respectful, of the brave military service of our troops. I asked the question, as well, very aware of the evil that was committed against our nation by the terrorists on September 11, 2001. Still, these words from the Second Vatican Council haunt us: are we, in some way, “debased” by our acceptance, or justification, of torture?
As a Franciscan friar, I am drawn to the life and witness of St. Francis of Assisi, who lived 800 years ago in the times of the Crusades. The East was at war with the West. Christians were fighting Muslims. Thousands were dying. St. Francis, drawing from his own experience of the gospel and its call to peace and reconciliation, sailed from Italy across the Mediterranean Sea to Egypt, marched through the Christian/Muslim battle lines, and asked to meet with the Sultan, the head of the Muslims. The soldiers, perhaps surprised by such a bold gesture on the part of this small, dressed-in-rags man, allowed him through. And as the story is told, Francis and the Sultan spoke, respectfully, of each other’s faith, and their own hopes for peace.
Was Francis naïve? Was he a fool for trying something so bold, so risky? Maybe he was. But he took the gospel and its call to radically re-think one’s life, its call to every person to be a bearer of peace and reconciliation, very seriously. As a nation that refers to itself as Christian, can we do the same?
Friday, February 19, 2010
The First Sunday in Lent
Somewhere I read that we reach our peak in our early 30s. After that, life goes downhill. And yet, the other day a 90 year old parishioner I’d stop to chat with excused herself saying she had to get to the Y and the pool! I don’t know what “peak “ is, but I do know that age is no barrier to self-improvement. With that in mind, a suggestion for Lent.
Most of us dread Lent. We’ve been conditioned to “give up” something for 6 weeks and we angst about what that something should be. Then we get the “guilts” when we cop a smoke, eat a chocolate, or have a beer.
This Lent, forget about “giving up.” Instead, add something to your life.
Start off by imagining people who know you talking about you. You’re not there. What do you hope they are saying about you?
Then take a brief inventory of who you are – not your job or whether you’re a mom or dad, husband or wife, son or daughter, neighbor or co-worker. Instead, who you are as a person in these relationships: generous, trusting, available, courteous, honest, good-humored. Then think about which of these characteristics could use some attention. “I could be more courageous and stop lying.” “I could call my brothers and sisters more often.” “I could take myself less seriously.” “I could take myself more seriously and trust my values and convictions.” Whatever.
Now think about what you could do in the next 6 weeks to make better the good you are already are? What could you do to better to appreciate the person God loves no matter what? To make better the person already worth the Cross?
And instead of “giving up,” spend these 6 weeks “growing up” into the person God knows and loves by name, the person God has given to the rest of us so that we’ll have a real-life, flesh-and-blood experience of God’s love for us.
Come Easter, we all dress up. During Lent we make sure that we’ll look as good on the inside as we do on the outside.
Finally … the church has 2 sacraments of healing: Penance/Reconciliation (“Confession”) and Sacrament of the Sick (some still incorrectly call it “Extreme Unction”). Both aim to put back together what’s fallen apart in our lives with God and others. Penance, what’s fallen apart in the ups and downs of everyday life; Sacrament of the Sick, what’s fallen apart because of age or illness. We celebrate Penance/Reconciliation each Saturday from 9AM-10AM and on Tuesday, March 16 at 7PM. The Sacrament of the Sick is available anytime – simply call on one of the friars. The Sacrament of the Sick should always be requested when you are looking at some hospital time. It can be celebrated in your home, the hospital, a care facility, during daily Mass or after a Sunday Mass.
Somewhere I read that we reach our peak in our early 30s. After that, life goes downhill. And yet, the other day a 90 year old parishioner I’d stop to chat with excused herself saying she had to get to the Y and the pool! I don’t know what “peak “ is, but I do know that age is no barrier to self-improvement. With that in mind, a suggestion for Lent.
Most of us dread Lent. We’ve been conditioned to “give up” something for 6 weeks and we angst about what that something should be. Then we get the “guilts” when we cop a smoke, eat a chocolate, or have a beer.
This Lent, forget about “giving up.” Instead, add something to your life.
Start off by imagining people who know you talking about you. You’re not there. What do you hope they are saying about you?
Then take a brief inventory of who you are – not your job or whether you’re a mom or dad, husband or wife, son or daughter, neighbor or co-worker. Instead, who you are as a person in these relationships: generous, trusting, available, courteous, honest, good-humored. Then think about which of these characteristics could use some attention. “I could be more courageous and stop lying.” “I could call my brothers and sisters more often.” “I could take myself less seriously.” “I could take myself more seriously and trust my values and convictions.” Whatever.
Now think about what you could do in the next 6 weeks to make better the good you are already are? What could you do to better to appreciate the person God loves no matter what? To make better the person already worth the Cross?
And instead of “giving up,” spend these 6 weeks “growing up” into the person God knows and loves by name, the person God has given to the rest of us so that we’ll have a real-life, flesh-and-blood experience of God’s love for us.
Come Easter, we all dress up. During Lent we make sure that we’ll look as good on the inside as we do on the outside.
Finally … the church has 2 sacraments of healing: Penance/Reconciliation (“Confession”) and Sacrament of the Sick (some still incorrectly call it “Extreme Unction”). Both aim to put back together what’s fallen apart in our lives with God and others. Penance, what’s fallen apart in the ups and downs of everyday life; Sacrament of the Sick, what’s fallen apart because of age or illness. We celebrate Penance/Reconciliation each Saturday from 9AM-10AM and on Tuesday, March 16 at 7PM. The Sacrament of the Sick is available anytime – simply call on one of the friars. The Sacrament of the Sick should always be requested when you are looking at some hospital time. It can be celebrated in your home, the hospital, a care facility, during daily Mass or after a Sunday Mass.
Strategic Planning
A parishioner suggested that it would help comment and discussion re: the proposed goals of our parish plan if the goals were posted separately. Hence the postings below.
We got a great response from our "pulpit" appeal for folks with expertise in the various aspects of communication. The group met on Feb 3 for an orientations discusssion and will convene again on Feb 24 to begin laying the "platform" upon which to build or improve our various channels of communication.
We also had two "listening" sessions for input on the Seniors goal. We had small numbers but gathered some good information.
Currently, the staff is developing "objectives" aimed at meeting the goals. These will be reviewed by Mar 4. Then we'll create separate "action plans" for executing the objectives.
Your continued comment will help shape this work.
A parishioner suggested that it would help comment and discussion re: the proposed goals of our parish plan if the goals were posted separately. Hence the postings below.
We got a great response from our "pulpit" appeal for folks with expertise in the various aspects of communication. The group met on Feb 3 for an orientations discusssion and will convene again on Feb 24 to begin laying the "platform" upon which to build or improve our various channels of communication.
We also had two "listening" sessions for input on the Seniors goal. We had small numbers but gathered some good information.
Currently, the staff is developing "objectives" aimed at meeting the goals. These will be reviewed by Mar 4. Then we'll create separate "action plans" for executing the objectives.
Your continued comment will help shape this work.
Young Adults
Goal: The Parish will nurture and build support for young adults, in both the English-speaking and Spanish-speaking communities, by providing theological and spiritual formation, leadership development and service opportunities to assure they are welcomed and encouraged as they come together to connect socially and explore living out their Catholic faith together.
Goal: The Parish will nurture and build support for young adults, in both the English-speaking and Spanish-speaking communities, by providing theological and spiritual formation, leadership development and service opportunities to assure they are welcomed and encouraged as they come together to connect socially and explore living out their Catholic faith together.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
