JUST WHEN it appeared that the fallout over the abuse scandal in the
US could not get any worse, the other shoe dropped in Philadelphia last
February.
A large number of accused clerics had never been removed from
active ministry by either the past or then archbishop of Philadelphia,
Cardinal Francis Rigali, who resigned last month.
After years of
investigation, inspection and research, it turns out that the cover-ups
have been further institutionalised.
Among the indicted is a monsignor
who is accused of turning a blind eye to things in his chancery office.
Of course, to blame a clerical official for such deviousness without
accusing his archbishop presents a mistaken analysis of how the church
works.
A rite of repentance staged at Philadelphia’s cathedral
last March offered a curious response to how local Catholics felt. At a
sanctuary packed with auxiliary bishops and the cardinal, a small
handful of the faithful turned out to hear them say how sorry they were.
Perhaps, like papal letters, people want more than scripted apologies
for errors of judgment that have been institutionalised in American
Catholicism.
Of course, the bishops hold up the charter for the
protection of children and young adults that they put into motion back
in 2002.
I do not denigrate that historic step. It did a lot to make
children safer in our Catholic institutions. And it did permit us the
opportunity to examine what the causes and effects of the scandal were.
But
the discovery by the grand jury last February of more than 30 accused
clerics in Philadelphia still in active ministry raises new fears. For
me these are much more than institutional nightmares.
It makes me
wonder what kind of people we are dealing with when we engage the
bishops.
How is it that their words say one thing and their secret
intentions say another?
Are they ever to be trusted?
I can
remember the sometimes vicious response some members of the hierarchy
gave to the national review board, set up by the US Catholic bishops
when we were investigating the handling of allegations of clerical child
sex abuse by church authorities some years ago.
Former cardinal Egan of
New York actually wanted to ban us from his fiefdom, as if we were
coming from some rival kingdom.
In light of Philadelphia, where
Cardinal Rigali has been a long-time Roman oligarch who, I am told, was
spending many days each month in Rome still serving on various
congregations, all the events of our investigation and audit get
coloured with a new layer of meaning – little has changed.
Thomas
Jefferson put it best: “Honesty is the first chapter of the book of
wisdom.”
I would be curious now as to how US cardinals view the recent
cardinal of Philadelphia’s behaviour? And what of the behaviour of his
predecessor, cardinal Bevilacqua?
I travelled on St Patrick’s
feast day this year to Dublin for a law conference and was refreshed by
the lyrical camaraderie that is such a part of Irish life.
The journey
was particularly energising and fulfilling, but there also was an
element of sadness to the visit.
It was easy to spot the first morning
when I made my way to daily Mass.
Since it was Lent, I expected an
enlarged congregation but found the opposite.
Recent Irish
scandals and the poor response from the Holy See, my hosts told me,
seemed to have sealed the fate of Catholicism in Ireland for some time
to come.
All the usual elements were there thanks to the Irish
bishops – cover-up, lying, bullying, threats, the hiding of evidence,
the sealing of witness testimony and most of all the willingness to let
the guilty clergy “get away” with the crime.
During the most
abject period of Irish history, when the English prohibited the practice
of our faith, our Irish ancestors would walk for miles in the dark and
rain to find a remote field in which a brave secret priest would
celebrate Mass at the risk of his life for people desperate for the
nourishment of the sacraments.
The faithful have not been as
absent from the celebration of sacraments as they are today since Irish
religious emancipation in 1829.
What is really sad is that the Vatican’s
understanding of what people really need is so totally off the mark.
Perhaps
if the Pope took himself to O’Connell Street in Dublin he might have
achieved a semblance of effective healing.
But a papal letter, no matter
how well intentioned, is not the stuff that brings healing. People want
their trust restored.
No papal letter, even a long one, will ever be
able to do that.
I believe that truthfulness has been a virtue in
trouble for a long time in the Catholic Church.
Who could ever see this
coming?
Not me. I was an obedient Catholic schoolgirl, a true believer.
It is not easy for us to unlearn being Catholic.
I, for one, don’t want
to.
But I expect truthfulness at all costs from our leadership. If
that cannot be supplied then we must go back to the drawing board.
Do
we not have the right to truthfulness?
Perhaps a council on truthfulness
might help to expand the importance of this critical virtue.
Perhaps it
could be a meeting for both bishops and faithful in which they could
share ideas and dreams for the church.
I believe that when the truth flourishes we will see the return of those who have walked away.
Justice
Anne Burke is a supreme court judge in the US state of Illinois. With
Eunice Kennedy she founded the Special Olympics.
She served as
chairwoman of the US Catholic Bishops’ Conference National Review Board,
the US equivalent of the Irish Catholic bishops’ National Board for
Safeguarding Children