An American epiphany

Four years after the first of a flood of sexual abuse allegations that have rocked the parishes and dioceses to their foundations, the American Church faces a pivotal 12 months if it is to rebuild trust and confidence with both clergy and laity.

EACH YEAR, 6 January marks the feast of the Epiphany on the Roman calendar. On that date in 2002, however, a manifestation of a much darker sort than the coming of the Magi from the East arrived on the front pages of American newspapers. Revelations published in that day?s Boston Globe ? that Church officials in the archdiocese of Boston had knowingly transferred a serial paedophile, Fr John Geoghan, through a circuit of parishes after repeated allegations of the priest?s misconduct were made by parishioners ? rocked the Church in Boston. Little did anyone know at the time that the airing of one case would serve as the touchstone for an unprecedented national scandal from which few corners of American Catholicism would emerge unscathed.

Four years and hundreds of cases later, the damage has cast a long shadow over the United State?s largest religious body. Compensation to victims of sexual abuse has now risen to more than $1 billion (nearly ?570 million) nationwide. Three dioceses have declared bankruptcy and others may soon follow. Meanwhile Oregon judges have ruled that the archdiocese of Portland cannot name its laity as co-defendants in its bankruptcy case ? an attempt by the see to save its parishes from liquidation to pay damages.

Bishops have resigned, and those left have had to deal with a crisis of morale among priests who have watched their peers consigned to oblivion by the hundreds. Dioceses have been forced to ride waves of parish and school closures, which has contributed to disenchantment among rank-and-file Catholics.

Even the highest-ranking American to serve in the Vatican has not been immune. Earlier this month, Archbishop William Levada, Pope Benedict XVI?s successor as prefect of the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith ? which has been specially charged with the handling of sex-abuse cases ? answered seven hours of questions in a deposition on his handling of accused priests and victims during his own tenure as Archbishop of Portland between 1986 and 1995.

Continuing to overshadow it all is the cloud of what was once US Catholicism?s proudest bastion, Boston, now reduced to a mass of division, infighting and heartbreak. When, by the end of 2002, popular fury over the scandals led to Cardinal Bernard Law ? the senior American cleric seen as the force behind Boston?s strategy of reassigning predator priests ? being forced into early retirement, there was hope of the restoration of credibility in the archdiocese. But despite the best endeavours of his successor, the Capuchin Sean P. O?Malley, these hopes remain unfulfilled.

Archbishop O?Malley is a quiet cleric with an unruly beard and history of ministering to the poor who eschews the episcopal purple in favour of his community?s brown habit and sandals. One of his first actions was to foresake his official residence by selling the see?s grandiose mansion in favour of a humble room at the inner-city cathedral rectory. He also replaced the Archdiocese?s legal team, which has been heavily criticised by victims-rights groups for its adversarial stance toward abuse survivors. The new lawyers and victims? attorneys quickly accomplished an $85 million (some ?48 million) settlement, which was soon exceeded by larger amounts for smaller groups of victims. (A second round of settlements agreed to last month, totalling US$7.5 million ? a little more than ?4.26 million ? to about 100 victims, came only after the Archdiocese increased the scrutiny on victims? claims.)

But an attempt to push through a plan involving the closing or merging of 62 parishes has fuelled strong currents of betrayal and hurt in the archdiocese. ?The wound is still raw, but people have learned to live with it,? said one Boston pastor who asked not to be identified. He compared the closings in the immediate aftermath of the abuse revelations to ?a one-two punch?.

?One thing I keep hearing from people is, ?You know, Father, if it weren?t for our parish, I wouldn?t be Catholic anymore, I wouldn?t want anything to do with the Church?,? said the Boston priest. ?[Parishioners] want nothing to do with [the chancery offices], they want to send no money there whatsoever, and we?ve seemingly been pushed into a corner of a congregational Church. And we [priests] have to go up there and say, ?Without that communion [with the Archbishop], we?re not Catholic; the Church is more than just our parish, and we need to be united with it?.? Yet at the same time, ?there is the sense that [priests] have been left hanging to dry.?

While parishioners remain incredulous and disheartened about the scandals, many priests feel beleaguered, besieged and uncared for, especially when saddled with having to tell the hierarchy the extent of the laity?s disillusionment. And these sentiments are by no means limited to Boston. In the aftermath of a devastating grand jury report last September that alleged a systematic cover-up of clergy sexual-abuse cases by three generations of Church leadership in the archdiocese of Philadelphia, Fr Robert McLaughlin, a suburban pastor, attracted attention as the lone public voice of outrage. He forcefully criticised what he saw as the lapses of his superiors who ?blew it? by deflecting blame on to prosecutors and the media and away from the hierarchy.

At one point, addressing his parish after the report?s release, Fr McLaughlin held up his weapons permit and promised the congregation that he would ensure their children?s safety. Fr McLaughlin then brought his message to television, radio and print media, and messages of support for his candour ? more than 200 at last count, according to him ? poured in, including five from people who were revealing their own abuse by clergy for the first time. But by contrast, McLaughlin heard not a single word from his fellow priests. ?Our people are feeling alienated, wounded and betrayed,? he said. ?They want their pain acknowledged ? and I don?t think [Church leaders] have a clue about it.?

While bishops and chancery offices say that lessons have been learnt and insist on the need to move forward, disclosures about sexual abuse are far from over. Records released late last year on 126 accused priests in the archdiocese of Los Angeles ? with 4.2 million Catholics, the nation?s largest see ? showed that predator priests had been assigned at one time or another to three-quarters of its parishes. Around the same time, Cardinal Francis George, Archbishop of Chicago and de facto leader of the American hierarchy, announced the ?consignment? of 11 of his priests to a supervised life of prayer and penance. Earlier the President of the US Conference of Catholic Bishops, Bishop William Skylstad of Spokane (whose own diocese has also declared bankruptcy), presented a survey to the November meeting if his colleagues that indicated ?[m]ore than half of the priests interviewed said that the way in which the crisis of the past few years has been handled has affected their view of Church leadership negatively ? Only 42 per cent believe they will be dealt with fairly if they are accused; 58 per cent do not. Only 27 per cent believe that accused priests have been treated fairly; the vast majority does not.? (See The Tablet, 18 November 2005, Church in the World.)

Among American Catholics and in the wider United States, tension and confusion has been exacerbated by the current Apostolic Visitation of the 229 US seminaries and houses of formation, set to end in June, and by the November Instruction of the Congregation for Catholic Education on the admission of homosexuals into seminary formation. In the run-up to the release of the seminary document, the American media was full of heated discussion between conservatives ? who view gay clergy and lax enforcement of the Church?s teachings on homosexuality as responsible for sexual abuse ? and progressives ? who feel that the gay community was being made into a convenient scapegoat for administrative malfeasance.

One of the more welcome aspects of the continuing flow of abuse revelations is that it has brought the cause of victims to the forefront. Yet, according to David Clohessy, national director of the Survivors Network of those Abused by Priests (Snap), the most prominent victim-advocacy group, the Church?s response can be summed up in one word: ?Pitiful,? says Mr Clohessy. ?There?s been some tinkering around the edges,? he said, citing a perception of minor policy changes on the part of bishops and administrators motivated by twin priorities of public relations finesse and stringent legal defence. But Mr Clohessy feels that there is reason for optimism. ?Catholic parents are more vigilant about their children, and more suspicious of the hierarchy than ever before,? he said. ?The authorities are much more involved, especially on the legislative front.?

One of Snap?s major emphases is lobbying at state level for an extension of the statutes of limitations on sex abuse. As they stand, the statutes have effectively caused time to run out for many criminal and civil cases against dioceses and abusive clerics. Across the country, much of the Church?s lobbying has been geared toward preventing the re-opening of expired cases, which with the threat of massive legal damages could endanger its ability to provide social services and parish funds.

Canonical issues at stake, however, are another question ? and a much more fluid one. After adopting a strict ?zero tolerance? policy at their meeting at Dallas in the summer of 2002, American bishops were pressed by the Holy See to ensure due process rights for accused priests. At the time of the Dallas meeting, ?zero tolerance? ? even for an offence committed decades ago ? was understood to mean immediate laicisation (as demanded by the press and opinion polls). The first version of the Essential Norms, the legal guidelines for dealing with abuse cases, expired last year but were renewed temporarily by the Holy See. A revised version passed by the Bishops? Conference last June is being studied in Rome and awaits Vatican approval.

But experience has shown that getting action is much easier said than done. It has been reported that the CDF?s international backlog of cases is so huge that it is 18 months before a bishop usually gets a reply. While a bishop may suspend a priest and temporarily restrict his ministry following a credible accusation, nothing further may be done at the diocesan level until the CDF issues a judgment on the individual case, referring it either to a local administrative process or an ecclesiastical tribunal.

In an interview with Vatican Radio last year, Archbishop Levada noted that his own experience in the United States was likely to have contributed to his appointment by the new Pope to head the doctrinal body, which was entrusted with handling sex-abuse cases by Pope John Paul II in a 2001 document. ?Given the ? explosion of [abuse] on the American scene over the past few years,? the Prefect said, ?[and] my experience with that ? I think probably ? may have said to [Benedict XVI] maybe it wouldn?t be bad to have someone ? who has this experience.?

Even though 2002?s vision of rapid, widespread laicisations has shown itself to be excessively optimistic, in practice the policy is to keep the accused under Church supervision and mandate for them a life of prayer and penance while remaining completely banned from ministry. But after four years of numbing revelations, when the penance will end for ordinary American Catholics remains woefully unclear.

Rocco Palmo writes on the American Church for The Tablet.