Tag Archives: pedophile priest scandal

Goddamn the Roman Catholic Church

“Most of the alleged victims were not raped: they were groped or otherwise abused, but not penetrated, which is what the word “rape” means. This is not a defense – it is meant to set the record straight and debunk the worst case scenarios attributed to the offenders.” – Bill Donohue, PhD, Catholics for Religious and Civil Rights, “Pennsylvania Grand Jury Report Debunked”, 16 August 2018

“Whoever is careless with the truth in small matters cannot be trusted with important matters.”

Albert Einstein

 

Once more, the ugly head of hypocrisy has arisen for the Roman Catholic Church.  A mammoth report issued by the state of Pennsylvania last month has left the oldest and largest denomination of Christianity in turmoil – again.  According to the results of a grand jury, top Catholic leaders covered up roughly seven decades of abusive child behavior by hundreds of priests.  More than 1,000 victims, the report alleges, fell prey to the antics of pedophilic clergy.  During that lengthy period (more than half a century, if you think about it), the Church put the welfare of itself over that of the affected children.  That should surprise no one.  One of the wealthiest and most powerful institutions on Earth, the Roman Catholic Church has metamorphosed from its humble beginnings as an ideology that regards everyone as essential and vital to the construct of humanity into an omnipotent criminal organization more intent on destroying anyone who dares question its authority.

The Pennsylvania scandal is painfully reminiscent of a similar fiasco that tore through the diocese of Boston nearly two decades ago.  That mess centered mainly on one man, John J. Geoghan, a former priest who had molested a gallery of young boys in the Boston area starting in the 1960s.  The focus then shifted to Cardinal Bernard F. Law, the former archbishop of Boston who was forced to resign in 2002, when proof arose that he became aware of Geoghan’s perverted predilections not long after he had arrived in Boston in 1984 to helm the diocese.  Like any criminal syndicate (think a street gang or a drug cartel), the Church decided to handle the matter quietly and internally.  The results have been catastrophic – and sometimes deadly.

Instead of doing something reasonable and decent, such as turning Geoghan over to outside authorities, Law moved him around.  Even one of Law’s own bishops thought assigning Geoghan to another parish was too risky and wrote a letter to the prelate that same year, 1984, protesting the transfer.  As early as 1980, Geoghan himself admitted to church officials that he’d engaged in predatory behavior with children!  In one case, he repeatedly abused 7 boys in one extended family – something he claimed wasn’t a “serious” problem.

These various allegations and the Church’s documentation analyzing them were eventually uncovered by the “Boston Globe” and revealed in 2002 in a series of Pulitzer Prize-winning editorials by 5 investigative journalists.

Not until the mid-1990s did some of the Boston-area survivors begin coming forward to tell their stories.  These couldn’t have been easy decisions for them, especially when confronting such an indomitable monolith as the Roman Catholic Church.  No one wants to believe that someone like a priest, or any religious official for that matter, is capable of such horrors as sexual assault and child molestation.  People often look to their places of worship as refuges of safety and hope; places to seek guidance in moments of trouble and despair or to reaffirm their faith in the greater good of humanity.  The men and women who function as leaders in these institutions are supposed to be above such humanly transgressions as sexual perversions.

We often forget those leaders and officials weren’t born into those roles.  They came into this world like the rest of us; they’re human beings first and foremost.  But they made the decision to lead lives of religious individualism.  Being a faith leader may be a spiritual calling for some individuals, but it is also a profession; something that person chooses to do with their lives.  People, therefore, choose to become drunk on the power bestowed upon them – supposedly by some deity – but, in reality, by elders in those organizations.  They choose to take vows of celibacy or piety and to stand as the proverbial beacons of hope.  And they choose to use their positions for good or bad.

In the Roman Catholic Church, priests don the fanciful regalia befitting their roles as leaders of the masses.  They dress differently and (are supposed to) behave differently.  Sex, which is a natural part of the human experience, is strangely viewed as base and demeaning.  It is too much of a distraction for the individual; hence, the vow of chastity.

But the human libido is often stronger than the human-designed definitions of proper individuality.  Thus, many priests (and nuns) stray from those vows and either hide their moral transgressions or leave the Church altogether.  Church history is replete with priests and nuns who had the audacity to fall in love.  I personally feel it’s perfectly normal and don’t see anything wrong with that.

Yet no one in their right mind can look upon the scourge of pedophilia within the Roman Catholic Church and consider it misguided love.  The tap-dancing semantics that people like Bill Donohue spit out to explain these transgressions doesn’t mitigate the significance of it; it only amplifies it.

Me at my 1978 confirmation with the late Thomas Tschoepe, then Bishop of the Dallas Roman Catholic Diocese.

I was once a strong devotee of the Catholic faith.  Like most Hispanic-Americans, I grew up in it.  It was a fact of life for me.  I even became an altar boy at a church in Dallas in the 1970s and served that church – and what I felt was the greater good of my community – with some measure of faith and distinction.  And, in case you’re wondering, no, I was never molested by anyone in the Church.  I was never molested by anyone outside of the Church, for that matter.  I never knew of anyone at that particular church who suffered physical or sexual abuse at the hands of a priest or a nun.  In retrospect, I realize most were good and decent; a few of them were actually fun to be around.  And sadly, some were assholes.  But I can’t find that any scandal erupted within its walls.

It’s ironic, though, because the Dallas diocese was the nexus of one of the largest pedophile priest scandals within the Church.  In 1997, a Dallas County jury awarded 11 plaintiffs of a class-action suit $119.6 million; the largest monetary award of its kind at the time.  Eleven young men claimed they had been molested by a former priest, Rudy Kos.  Tragically, by the time the case went to court, one of the young men had committed suicide.  He was 21, and his family had pursued the matter.  The Kos case served as the proverbial catalyst for the avalanche of similar claims and subsequent lawsuits across the U.S.  Then Bishop Charles Grahmann testified in court that he knew nothing of Kos’s antics; claiming he’d never even opened Kos’s personnel file.  If he had, he surely would have found letters dating to the 1980s from other priests warning of Kos; that the latter often gave alcohol and even drugs to some of the boys.  Grahmann surely knew something was amiss, as he moved Kos around – which apparently had become standard procedure within the Church by then.  Grahmann only exacerbated the dilemma when he blatantly insinuated that some of those boys were partly responsible for the abuse.  That, of course, is a typical reflex-type response to sexual assault victims, especially those who are male.  Remember, in the bloodthirsty psyche that is American culture, males – even very young ones – are never supposed to be victims.  Kos was sent to prison, and Grahmann remained bishop for another decade before resigning.  He passed away recently.

As with serial killers, I often wonder how many victims of a pedophile remain hidden.  Who else is out there who just didn’t have the courage and / or support to come forward and tell their story?  Like I stated earlier, these matters aren’t easy to discuss.  Going up against an outfit as powerful and affluent as the Roman Catholic Church is overwhelming and sometimes impossible.  What the Church has done to distance itself from these crimes – and even discredit the victims, in some instances – is beyond abominable.  Their actions are truly monstrous.

One thing I find curious, though, is that other people within individual parishes had become aware of the pedophilia (or whatever crimes were taking place) and chose to put their concerns in writing.  They apparently tried to do something; to bring it to the attention of higher authorities within the institution.  Yet, when nothing was done, what did those other people do?  Were they so bound to the laws and regulations of the Church that they felt it could go no further?  It had to stop there and then?  It is against the law to fail to report child abuse.  But, with the separation of church and state a building block of the United States, how is that to be handled?

I haven’t waited for either the Roman Catholic Church or the U.S. government to respond.  I left the Church more than a quarter-century ago over its disrespectful behavior towards women who comprise more than half of the world’s estimated 1.2 billion Catholics.  Like its siblings, Judaism and Islam, Christianity is patriarchal at its core.  A number of men within its environs had dared to say women should hold more leadership positions than head nun or head housekeeper.  While other branches of Christianity have moved towards gender parity, the Roman Catholic Church remains unyielding.  But the pedophile priest scandals that have exploded over the past several years solidified my decision to leave the Church in the dust of its own glittering arrogance.  Shortly after the Boston fiasco, many wondered if the Church would survive the chaos.  And I thought, who cares?  The real question should be if the Church will admit not only that it has a serious problem in its ranks, but that it has been conducive to that problem.

I also have to be fair in that I know the majority of people who run the Church aren’t pedophiles or accessories after the fact.  Most do try to uphold to the Church’s two millennia old principals that all humans are valuable and should be treated with respect.  They work hard to ensure a safe community for everyone.  When I think of those who embodied this dogma, I always think of Oscar Romero; the former archbishop in El Salvador who spoke out against the country’s dictatorial regime and was gunned down while performing mass in 1980.  While Romero tried desperately to feed and clothe his parishioners in one of the poorest nations in the Western Hemisphere, his counterparts in the U.S. and elsewhere around the world were paying out millions in settlements because they didn’t want any bad press.

Yet, I now feel the Church has run its course.  It’s done; it’s served its purpose.  It no longer has the right or the power to dictate how people should live their lives.  Indeed, it is wishful thinking on my part that the mighty Roman Catholic Church simply fold up and somehow melt into the rest of society.  It has too strong of a grip on the world.

In the late 1930s, my paternal grandfather, a carpenter, landed an ideal contract with the Catholic Diocese of Dallas: build a new parochial school.  My grandfather, Epimenio, had mixed feelings about the Church.  Sometime before then, my grandmother had fallen ill, and my grandfather had called their local parish priest to ask for some money to take her to the doctor.  When he arrived at the rectory, the grumpy old priest flung the few dollar bills at his feet.

“If this wasn’t for my wife,” my grandfather told him in Spanish, “I’d make you pick this up and hand it to me like a real man should.”

One afternoon, as my grandfather and some of his men were atop the newly-attached roof of the school, the bishop appeared at the construction site to survey the project.  One of Epimenio’s employees immediately stopped what he was doing and began bowing, as was the custom at the time, upon seeing a high-ranking Catholic official.  Bowing to the bishop while perched on a slanted roof of a 2-story structure.

“Pendejo!” Epimenio muttered to the man, a Spanish curse word whose closest (polite) translation is moron.  “You’re going to roll off this roof and die when you hit the ground!  Then the bishop is going to wonder what happened!”

That’s what I’m thinking now.  The Roman Catholic Church seems to be marching itself into oblivion.  Its acolytes are literally dying to keep it relevant.  Can any of them see that?

 

Pennsylvania Attorney General Josh Shapiro releases the findings of a two-year grand jury investigation into clergy abuse at six of the state’s Roman Catholic Dioceses:

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The Grandest Trickery

bloodyCross

“Francis – Latin: Franciscus – ‘Free man,’ a man subservient to his government.”

Name Your Baby by Lareina Rule, 1963.

 

After a brief and heavily-publicized tour of the United States, Pope Francis returned to the Vatican last Sunday night. Amidst his hectic schedule, frequent baby-kissing and the usual slew of parades, complete with Miss America-type waves, Francis became the first leader of the Roman Catholic Church to address a joint session of the U.S. Congress and the first to hold mass at New York’s Madison Square Garden. The media and Catholic faithful couldn’t get enough of it. I’d had enough the moment he stepped foot on U.S. soil.

In a way, the former Cardinal Jorge Mario Bergoglio was returning home; since he’s the first pope from the Americas and the first outside of Europe. But he’s of Italian extraction, and his hometown of Buenos Aires is more European than Latin American. So, he’s not that different from his predecessors. You know what would be different? If the Church had selected a full-blooded Indian who was raised dirt-poor in the mountains of México; perhaps even a man who had been married to a woman and then widowed or (better yet) divorced; maybe someone with a criminal background, like burglary or auto theft. But that would make him too imperfect. I can’t see someone with that many scars rising to the lead one of the most self-righteous institutions the world has ever seen.

I’m not concerned with perfection. No such quality exists in humans. Most everyone in America, from President Obama down to the latest illegal immigrant across the U.S.-México border, was smitten with Francis. As a recovered Catholic, I could see right through the velvet and silk menagerie of angelic verbiage and outstretched hand. Yes, Francis may sound different; offering juicy tidbits of progressive ideology by saying, for example, it’s improper to judge gays and lesbians and criticizing the growing wealth divide. But he’s still head of one of the most powerful and affluent entities on Earth; an empire with an estimated net fortune up to $750 billion. As a former altar boy at a Dallas Catholic church, I wonder now if any priest or nun thought of molesting me; knowing how shy and obedient I was during my childhood. Francis has convinced many people to return to the Catholic Church. I left the Church years ago for one primary reason: its mistreatment of women. And I’ll stay away. I’ve always had a tendency to hold grudges, but this goes beyond personal feelings.

 

Women’s Work

Of the world’s estimated 1.1 billion Roman Catholics, women comprise more than half, which corresponds to the world’s overall population; that is, women make up more than 50%. Yet, unlike most of the planet, certainly unlike developed nations, the Church is far behind in how it views women and their “place” in society. Women actually make the Church function; they’re the ones who teach the kids, sweep the floors, cook the meals, do the laundry, carry the water and so forth. Meanwhile, their male counterparts (term used loosely) don all those chic designer gowns and issue judgmental pronouncements on human behavior. In medieval times, for example, the Church condemned as heretics any medical practitioner who sought to ease the pains of pregnancy and birth for women. Such agonies, the Church declared, are the price all women must pay for Eve’s trickery in the ethereal “Garden of Eden.” You know the story: the one where the wicked female shoved an apple, or some type of fruit, down Adam’s throat; thus making him and all of humanity a victim of feminine wiles. Even now, the Church refuses to grant the role of priesthood to women. It was hell – almost literally – for them to allow alter girls. But, aside from the convent and church secretaries, there aren’t too many formal positions for women in Roman Catholicism. The Church still won’t even sanction birth control.

 

Native Americans

In 2012, Pope Benedict XVI canonized the first Native American saint, Kateri Tekakwa. It was a unique moment in the Church’s history. Native Americans have a contentious relationship with Roman Catholicism and all of Christianity. That came to the forefront recently when the Church announced that Francis would canonize Spanish missionary Junipero Serra. Canonization is exclusive to the Roman Catholic Church; a lengthy and exhaustive process a deceased individual undergoes before achieving sainthood. Sainthood is that coveted status in the Church where people are proclaimed to be as God-like as humanly possible. Someone has to do a great deal in the name of the Church (and God) just to be considered for canonization. It’s sort of like the U.S. Medal of Honor, except the Church doesn’t acknowledge the recipient may have killed some folks along the way. More importantly, Medal of Honor recipients don’t try to convince people they’re above humanity.

In the 18th century, Serra established one of the first Christian missions in what is now the state of California. I’ve always proudly announced that Spaniards were the first Europeans to colonize the American Southwest; building entire communities. But I’m just as quick to acknowledge the other side of the epic tale: the indigenous peoples of the same region often fell victim to the violence and oppression Europeans brought in their hunger for land and precious metals. When Spain’s Queen Isabella, who funded Christopher Columbus’ voyages and who’s also one of my direct ancestors, learned that her minions were torturing and killing the Indians, she ordered them to stop – which they did. She then ordered them to begin trying to convert the Indians to Christianity – which they did. Then Isabella died, and the slaughter continued. The brutality was almost as bad as that imposed by British and French royalty who had no problems killing those people who either didn’t catch the flu and died or dropped to their knees and started praying to Jesus. In America’s infancy, many White Christians held a concept called “Manifest Destiny.” Some still do.

Francis proclaimed Serra “one of the founding fathers of the United States” and praised his willingness to abandon the comforts of his native Spain to spread Christianity in the Americas. Absent in the virtual deification is the fact that Serra was a tool in a brutal colonial system that killed thousands of Native Americans and subjugated thousands of others who didn’t perish. In August, the California state senate voted to replace a statue of Serra with one of a truly heroic figure: the late astronaut Sally Ride, a California native who was the first American woman in space. You know that had to piss off the Vatican elite. A woman given higher status than a male missionary?! How dare they!

Naturally Francis didn’t address the Native American holocaust; the longest-lasting and most far-reaching genocide in human history. Instead, he said that, when it comes to Christian missionaries, we must “examine their strengths and, above all, their weaknesses and shortcomings.” In other words: we don’t give a shit how you people feel.

 

The Pedophile Scandal

In June of 1985, American Roman Catholic bishops held their annual conference in Colorado. There, they were presented with a report entitled “The Problem of Sexual Molestation by Roman Catholic Clergy: Meeting the Problem in a Comprehensive and Responsible Manner.” Labeled “confidential,” the massive document was prepared just as the church was dealing with the case of Gilbert J. Gauthe, a priest in Lafayette, Louisiana who had been convicted of child molestation. While we now know the pedophile priest scandal stretches back for decades, the Gauthe case is where the madness first came to light. Revelations about what the Church knew and when shocked and horrified the Catholic faithful. That the Church tried to cover up the scandal by spiriting its gallery of child rapists from one diocese to another – a sort of ecumenical Witness Protection Program – initially seems unimaginable. But, with its vast financial resources and entrenched role as a global powerhouse, I’m not the least bit surprised. Like any international conglomerate, the Church didn’t want to concede it was wrong; opting instead, to pay out millions to keep the loudmouths quiet.

There’s no amount of money that can make up for the pedophile scourge. The damage has been done. This is not a 1950s-era TV show where mom dents the car, and the kids stumble around trying to keep dad from finding out. Francis grudgingly acknowledged the pedophile conundrum during his visit to the U.S. by meeting privately with a handful of victims and proclaiming that “God weeps” at the sexual abuse of children. I guess God weeps when old fuckers like Francis couch their disdain for talking about it publicly by using such generalized terminology. I say this because Francis also praised American bishops for how they confronted the scandal and told priests he felt their pain. For the record, the Roman Catholic Church never confronted this scandal, until U.S. law enforcement got involved. And the priests certainly aren’t the ones who endured any pain – unless it was pain from handcuffs that were too tight or soreness from sitting in a chair for hours, while giving a deposition. But I don’t feel that qualifies.

In the myriad dreams my writer’s psyche produces, the disintegration of the Roman Catholic Church is one of the grandest. But it’s still a dream. We’re talking about an institution nearly two millennia years of age. It’s the foundation of all Christianity – something evangelicals are loathe to admit. It’s not going away anytime soon, unless a comet strikes the Earth or every super volcano on the planet erupts simultaneously. With his soft voice and impish smile, Francis may have convinced a number of people he’s a pope unlike any other; a man wanting to bring the Church into the modern age. After all, he has a Twitter account!

Social media savvy or not, I see the same ruse. I see the same hypocrisy. I see the same figurehead. I see the same wicked entity. It just won’t change for the better. It can’t. It’s deceived too many souls.

 

Image courtesy J. Belmont.

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