Wounds Never Healed

Disgraced former head of the Boston Archdiocese, Cardinal Law passed away this December.  When reports of sexually abusive priests came to his attention, he reassigned them to other parishes and kept the allegations quiet.  This allowed those abusive priests to molest again.  When the cover up was finally exposed in 2002, it seriously hurt the Church's moral credibility and sent the Cardinal fleeing to Rome.

Some victims and their families have reacted strongly to news of Bernard Law's death by saying they hope he has gone to hell for allowing such a thing to happen over and over again.  The current leader of the Boston Archdiocese, Cardinal Sean O'Malley, was careful with his words during a press conference stating that ultimately it's the goal of Christianity to see that everyone gets into heaven.

During a recent interview with the Salem News, abused former altar boy Bernie McDaid described a private meeting he and his mother had with Cardinal Law in 2002.  “I'm not sticking up for Bernie Law but he did apologize.”  McDaid added, “He was absolutely wrong and he knew it.  But he represents hundreds of cardinals who were moving priests around.  To make Bernie Law the scapegoat kind of shortens the issue to Boston.  This is all over the world.”

McDaid also recalled a meeting he helped organize between victims and Cardinal Law.  A young woman whose brother was abused by a priest and later took his own life stood up and said to the Cardinal, “I want you to know that you killed my brother.”  When Cardinal Law looked down at the floor, she screamed at him,  “Look me in the eye.  You're a murderer.”

Keeping the allegations of abuse quiet also made the victims think they were alone.  Imagine the weight of such a violation on your soul.  Now imagine having to bear that weight all by yourself.  I think if there is any sense of justice, Cardinal Law would experience all the heartache, indignity and trauma of the lives that were ruined by the cover up.  The sad part was, it didn't have to be this way.

Our priests lecture us all the time about standing up for what is right even if it costs us dearly.  They cite how much the martyrs gave up and ask if we would do the same.  Why is it the Church didn't follow its own advice?  When Cardinal Law first received complaints about abusive priests, he should have been on the phone to the police.  (The Church today would be in much better shape spiritually and financially if he had!)  Reassigning those priests to other parishes was like hoping a ticking time bomb wouldn't go off.  What was it about Bernard Law's character that allowed the abuse to continue as far as it did?

I only met Cardinal Law once during an anniversary celebration of the Boston Archdiocese held at my former high school.  He was getting out of the backseat of a car and chatted with a few people near the entrance to the auditorium.  Frankly, there was something about him I never liked.  Whether it was television interviews or recorded messages played to our parish (usually about money), he struck me as a milquetoast who just wasn't passionate about defending the Catholic faith.  I certainly don't remember him being too critical of Boston area Catholic politicians who actively promoted agendas that ran counter to the Church's teachings.

http://www.salemnews.com/news/local_news/cardinal-s-confession-sex-abuse-victim-reflects-on-meeting-law/article_08aea181-5a02-5118-8ae5-91b589803fac.html

Some Catholics say we should stop talking about the scandal because being negative weakens the Church and accomplishes very little.  What continues to hurt the Church is not doing right by the victims.  When members of S.N.A.P. protested outside the Cathedral of the Holy Cross, one parishioner wondered what more do the victims want.  That's an easy thing to say if you've never suffered the horror of a shattered childhood.

What also continues to hurt the Church is it's lack of genuine honesty.  In a prepared statement, Cardinal O'Malley said: “I recognize that Cardinal Law’s passing brings forth a wide range of emotions on the part of many people. I am particularly cognizant of all who experienced the trauma of sexual abuse by clergy, whose lives were so seriously impacted by those crimes, and their families and loved ones.”  Now if you were having a heart to heart conversation with someone, would you actually use the word cognizant?  Instead of a well-plotted form letter that sounds like it was crafted by a lawyer or politician, how about the honesty of plain talk?

Cardinal Sean O'Malley mentions the good work Bernard Law did in the South but this is taking a “Mousilini made the trains run on time” approach.  No matter what good Cardinal Law did in the past, his role during the abuse scandal has been cemented in history and you cannot remove the man from such grievous misdeeds. 

During a deposition Cardinal Law was forced to give, some of the victims described him as angry rather than contrite.  Bernie McDaid recalled in the Salem News how during his second visit to the Vatican in 2010 Cardinal Law hung up on him.  “I'm pretty sure it was him.  He spoke in English and quickly switched over to Italian.”  Whether you believe Cardinal Law was truly sorry for what had happened or just sorry his cover up was exposed, he became the poster child for how badly the priest abuse scandal was handled.  It's been said the Catholic Church is in a much better position to prevent such abuse from happening again but it never should have gone on as long as it did in the first place.

Where Is Christmas?

As a kid, Christmas was such a magical time.  My married friends tell me some of that magic gets rekindled each year as they watch their own children open presents on Christmas morning.  Being single during the holidays usually brings feelings of isolation that I just can't shake.

When I first attended St. Mary's in Beverly with my mother and brother, Christmas Masses seemed special because the church was still very new to us but as the years passed, I started to feel out of place.  Seeing the pews filled with so many old people and families certainly didn't help.  When my brother moved away, it was just my mother and me.  Sometimes it was just me.

At one point, our pastor decided to reintroduce midnight Mass after a long absence from the schedule.  I wanted to see if it would attract a younger crowd but since my mother didn't want to stay up late, I had to go by myself.  Sitting alone in a pew didn't exactly fill me with the Christmas spirit.  That first midnight Mass was well-attended and over the years, its popularity only increased.  Soon I found myself surrounded by old people and families again.

The music during Christmas Mass featured a choir of senior citizens, organ and trumpet but someone got the bright idea to add a kettle drum into the mix.  When it first thundered, we all flinched out of fear.  Every year since, it's taken unsuspecting once-a-year Catholics by surprise.  Our pastor said this music was so beautiful, it was probably what heaven sounded like.  I found it to be more annoying than heaven-like.  Having senior citizens belt out the line “Glory to God” over and over again just wasn't my cup of tea but at St. Mary's, people tended to see things one way.  

Our pastor decided to replace the church’s perfectly adequate nativity scene with a much more expensive, hand-crafted one from Italy.  A lot of money was raised to acquire these figurines but they did nothing to increase my faith.  While looking them over, I wondered why on one of the holiest days of the year, my faith felt so weak.

Despite all the decorations, music and well-meaning sermons, I wasn't getting much out of Christmas Mass anymore but it was far better for some at my church to ignore people like me because our very existence invalidated their rosy view of the parish's sense of community.  No room at the inn for lost sheep.

I still go to church hoping the Holy Spirit will set my soul on fire somehow but for the past few years, Christmas seems like just another day.  Before the start of this year's Christmas Mass at my current parish, I spotted a man in the hallway holding a shepherd’s crook.  Apparently, our priests asked two people to dress up as Mary and Joseph with the woman holding a real baby.  During Mass, the little one started to cry so Mary and Joseph had to slink back into the hallway.  I give these priests an A for effort but such a display did little to inspire me.

At least it wasn't as tacky as a zip line Jesus.  A former pastor once told the congregation how one church had set up a wire that went from the choir loft all the way down to the crèche that was placed just in front of the altar.  During Christmas Mass, they would send the baby Jesus speeding down the wire to his manger.  Gimmicks like this seem more like comedy relief than spiritual inspiration.

When I look at the Christmas tree in the house, I think of how much coming down those stairs with my brother to open presents meant to me.  This year, my brother called at 1 PM on Christmas Day to invite us to his house for a Christmas meal.  My mother and I were nothing more than an afterthought to him and I suspect the phone call was just a courtesy.  Given the long and messy drive up to his place, there was no way we could have made it.

My mother and I settled down for a quite dinner by ourselves but I was plagued by a tinge of sadness.  Something wonderful has been lost and I find myself asking more than ever, “Where is Christmas?”