The Laywoman, the Pedophile, and the Priest

A conversation about confounding evil in the Church

Years ago, I spoke to a local pastor about a problem at his parish. One of the lectors at Mass, an older pious man, was regularly approaching my young children and others with detailed questions about their lives. I was slightly uncomfortable with his singular focus on the kids but thought little of it until I inadvertantly found his name on the county’s public sex offender registry.

He had been found guilty of sexually abusing his granddaughters, sentenced to jail time, and allowed probation so that he could care for his ailing wife. His name was placed on the public sex offender registry and remained until his death a few years later as “Habitual offender.”

We knew the man and were on friendly terms so I was shocked and spent quite a bit of time going through the court records trying to reconcile our experience with the information. Maybe he was falsely accused. Maybe it was a misunderstanding. But I could not find a way around it.

So I called the pastor and expressed my concerns. I was terrified of making the call but concerned enough to do it. I assumed he didn’t know or else he wouldn’t have the man in any form of public ministry. To knowingly have a pedophile in the sanctuary just seems so unlikely… and stupid. Turns out I was wrong. The pastor did know the full story and chose to allow him access to the families of the parish from a position of trust. The man was sorry. Very sorry. Forgive and forget.

The problem (as any parent would see it) was not about forgiveness but of habitual sexual abuse and the well-being of children. Our obligation to forgive and love the man was not in conflict with our obligation to protect the vulnerable. Charity also demands that we hold such men accountable out of consideration for their souls. But Father didn’t share my perspective.

During the conversation, I was accused of being “rigid” and unforgiving. Father told me that the man was sorry and “what do you want him to do? Put on sack cloth and ashes and make a public apology in front of the whole church?”

“No, Father,” I said. “I want him removed from public ministry and instructed to stop interacting with children. There are sufficient numbers of adults to meet his social needs.”

I endured a few more minutes of gaslighting as his frustration with me escalated. I am not an aggressive person and he had the upper hand with both institutional authority and strength of personality. He made sure I knew how important he was in the diocese how many years he had worked with men with similar problems. What did I know about recidivism and forgiveness? I was just an uptight laywoman.

He never denied the man’s guilt or his civil punishment. He verbally acknowledged all of it. But he refused to limit the man’s status and actions at the parish. I gave one more push to be understood—pleading as a mother—and Father delivered his final blow…

“You know, it was just his young granddaughters. It wasn’t that big a deal.”

If you’re skimming and missed that, go back and read it again until you grasp it.

I’m not going to tell you what I did or didn’t do following that conversation other than that we immediately left the parish. But I will tell you that the priest is still a pastor with influence in the diocese. He lives in a beautiful new rectory built with the tithe of his parishioners.

It is maddening to know that a man who has such a warped acceptance of child abuse ministers to people in the place of Jesus Christ. But under the current circumstances in the institutional Church, there is no real path to assistance…

My word against his.
In a fiercely defensive diocese.
Where abuse is swept under the rug…
And victims abandoned.
They think we don’t know…
But some of us know.

And I bring all this to the table to initiate a most important discussion.

It is easy enough for our keyboards to opine about what someone should or shouldn’t do in a situation like this or one in which there is more direct abuse of persons. But what happens when we speak? What happens when we stay silent? I invite you to weigh in on that in the comments, but first let’s talk a bit more about how we got to this point.

Clericalism and the Pieta Prayer Book

I do now understand my place as a laywoman, but it is different from what I believed it to be for many years. When I was a relatively new believer, I was given a little blue prayer book called the Pieta which is a staple in many Catholic households. In that book, there is an admonition against criticizing priests which has had a broad impact on Catholic families (especially women) everywhere it is distributed. The unapproved private revelation to a woman called Mutter Vogel is a good example of how pious intentions without healthy formation can cause significant harm. (image below)

My first encounter with this little passage came in the midst of conversation with local Catholic women. I was concerned about the behavior of an area priest and wanted the perspective of more seasoned women. Is he safe? Should I trust my kid with him in the confessional? What do you think? My questions were met with an awkward silence until one mild voice finally broke through…

“Well, I think we just need to pray for our priests.” And that was all.

Not long after that, I was introduced to Mutter Vogel’s perspective. I see it now as particularly successful PSYOPS that the enemy has launched against the heart of the family. If a pious woman can be convinced that she is failing in virtue and is breaking the heart of Jesus by speaking any negative word about an errant priest, the enemy can influence the whole family similarly.

The number of times I have stayed silent when I ought to have spoken because I either believed it was wrong or was shamed into it hangs uncomfortably heavy on my conscience. The Church would be different if we hadn’t all been silent and if we had expressed—in the appropriate moments, to the people who ought to know, and with great charity—objection to the wrongs and errors. There is no Church teaching which supports the sit-down-and-shut-up approach to clerical error or scandal. For clarification, maybe look to St. Thomas Aquinas. But common sense should suffice.

Many years after my first encounter with the blue book, when I was grieving and struggling over abuse within the Church, I thought bitterly: “This reads like it was written by a groomer.”

The book went in the trash. If we want beautiful prayers, we can find them without the malformation. The truth of Christ cannot be passed on to the next generation if we take away freedom to defend against evil and the will to do it. All it takes for soul to be destroyed is for one vulnerable child to believe that the priest is above reproach and for one mother to believe that she is sinning by discussing concerns.

The Church is not a magical place where evil cannot penetrate if we just wish hard enough. Nor is the Church a physical edifice which must be defended. Any scoundrel with a will to do it can don the robes of a priest, sit in the sanctuary, deconstruct or sell a building. It is the Holy Spirit which guides to true freedom and also grants the authority and confidence to say:

“You are an imposter. Get out.”

And so we are left with the ever present question of how to defend our families against vipers who hold themselves up as princes. Or against weak men who do not intend harm but won’t deny themselves the temptations of their authority. There is no question that we are to be charitable, respectful, compassionate, and exhibit virtue in all things. We extend mercy just as we hope that others extend mercy to us when we fall. But does virtue exclude the practice of prudence and vigorous defense of the vulnerable? It does not.

The institutional Church is largely a closed system in which ensconced abusers have tremendous power. In a perfect world with perfect virtue, the widespread pursuit of heroic virtue would prevent such abuse. But as each generation of corrupted clerics passes the torch and forms new men, the network of abusers grows deeper and wider.

Some of you will misunderstand me to mean that I don’t love the Church. No. I am learning slowly what the Church is and what she is not. She is not the evil which afflicts her. The lives of the saints reveal that this is the pattern of Salvation History, and it is in this context where we see saints arise. So let’s become saints.

Whose job is it to keep watch and speak up? Ours. Though an overly comfortable cleric will often tell you otherwise. Tragically, some bishops will only act against abuse and compensate victims if the secular authorities get involved. That doesn’t even take into account the behaviors among clergy which do not violate civil law but have no place in a healthy Christian community.

There is perhaps no more dangerous a person than a narcissist priest who can abuse the mind and soul without leaving enough evidence to force his bishop’s hand… and still retain the adulation of the flock. What a relief it must be to a cowardly bishop to receive a complaint about such men which is neither illegal nor provable.

Opening the Conversation…

So what would you have done if your pastor told you that pedophilia isn’t really a big deal? I know what my perfect internet answer would be… and I know what I actually did. I think it’s worth the time to examine the duties and difficulties…

• Do you have an obligation to speak?

• What are the possible personal consequences of bringing this information to the diocese?

• What are the communal consequences of speaking up?

• If the diocese does not respond, do you have an obligation to warn others?

• What do you think the outcome would be if you approached your Bishop?

• What would the desired outcome be?

• What would you do if the Bishop dismissed your concerns or did nothing?

• Would your actions change if your son was discerning the priesthood in the diocese?

• Would you speak up if you knew that you had no proof and that Father would deny it?

• Would you speak up if you knew this would get you labeled as an uncharitable slanderous detracting calumnious gossip?

• Is it all just an exercise in futility?

Unless we engage thoughtfully with these questions, we will be stuck in the cycle in which we now find ourselves. Defending institutional practices which are fundamentally indefensible. Defending shepherds who should not be protected from scrutiny but instead shaken into their manhood or out of their positions of influence. A soft and comfortable Church will be shaken one way or another until it remembers Christ or abandons Him for the false promises of posh rectories and worldly influence.

It is not to appease our own pride and bitterness that we seek right order in the Church, but love of God and His people. To testify to the fullness of Christian joy is to hate those things which keep souls from knowing Jesus and His truth and to love everything which reflects His goodness and breathes forth His Word and Life. And so we pursue our shepherds vigorously… out of love for their souls.

May the grace of God flood the Church and into every dark alley and hidden corner. Holy Spirit, liberate Your people for the fullness of joy which You intend. Deo Gratias!

Please comment below with your thoughts and consider taking the questions to your online and local communities. Be kind. Be generous. Be patient. Seek truth not dominance.

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