THIS WEEKEND POPE FRANCIS ANNOUNCED THAT SCOTLAND'S CARDINAL KEITH O'BRIEN HAD BEEN STRIPPED OF ALL THE PRIVILEGES AND FUNCTIONS OF A CARDINAL.
IT WAS ALSO ANNOUNCED THAT HE WOULD LIVE IN RETIREMENT IN THE NORTH OF ENGLAND AND BE FORBIDDEN TO ENTER SCOTLAND.
HE IS NOT ALLOWED TO PERFORM ANY PRIESTLY FUNCTIONS AND MAY ONLY CELEBRATE MASS IN PRIVATE - ON HIS OWN.
BELOW THE JOURNALIST WHO BROKE THE SCANDAL OUTLINES THE BACKGROUND\;
Peeping from a window |
Catherine Deveney 2013.
March 13, 2013. The world is waiting. Television
screens show days-old footage of cardinals in red and white, processing past
Vatican guards into the magnificence of the Sistine Chapel for the papal conclave. Every image, from the polished
marble floors and gold ceilings to the priceless frescoes on the walls, tells a
story of wealth, pageantry and power. Outside, in St Peter's Square, the crowds
are cheering for a man whose name they do not yet know. But there is another
soundtrack. The day before, Pat McEwan, a 62-year-old from Scotland, had
described to me how he was raped at the age of eight by a priest. His voice
drowns out crowds and choirs. "I ran home shaking like a dog. I had wee
short trousers on and the shite was running down my leg. My mum and my auntie
had to wipe me down."
The juxtaposition of those two images: the powerful
institution that represents 1.2 billion Catholics and the abused child, tells
the story of a church with two faces: one public and one private. Last month,
the church was plunged into crisis when the Observer revealed
that three priests and one ex-priest had complained to the Papal Nuncio about
Cardinal Keith O'Brien, Archbishop of St Andrews and Edinburgh. The cardinal,
who publicly decried homosexuals as degenerate, had, they said, privately been
making advances to his own priests for years. But the story was never about one
man. It wasn't about personal weakness. Keith O'Brien was merely a symptom of a
wider sickness: an institution that chooses cover-up as its default position to
conceal moral, sexual and financial scandal.
This was not paedophilia but it was an abuse of
power – a man in authority acting inappropriately to young seminarians and
priests under his control. It was made clear that a full sexual relationship
had been involved. Yet there were attempts to cloud his behaviour in moral
ambiguity. First, there was denial. The cardinal "contested" the
allegations. A day after publication, he resigned. The next week, he issued a statement admitting his
sexual conduct "as a priest, a bishop and a cardinal" had fallen
short. Many ignored what that confirmed about the extent and duration of his
behaviour: he was made cardinal in 2003.
Next, came obfuscation, with the church claiming it
did not know the substance of the allegations, despite being given written
notice before publication. Then, anger and the minimising of wrongdoing – the
cardinal had been destroyed for mere "drunken fumblings" from 30
years ago. Why, he had probably been to confession and received absolution. But
most revealing of all was the attempt to turn the spotlight on the
complainants' motivation, to blame the accusers rather than the accused. It has
been a familiar pattern in Catholic abuse cases over the years.
The stories you are about to read will take you
from the late-1950s to the present day, a sweep of more than 50 years.
Society has changed radically in those years, from the black-and-white morality
of the 1950s, tenement slums and rag-and-bone men, to the fast-living,
flat-screen, iPhone generation of 2013. And yet, through all those decades, all
those changes, the behaviour of the Catholic church towards abuse victims has
changed remarkably little.
Two concepts are critical to understanding church
behaviour. The first is "scandalising the faithful". Traditionally,
the hierarchy believed the greatest sin was shaking the faith of Catholic
congregations. Protecting them meant concealing scandal. Adopting that as your
moral standpoint means anything goes. You can cover up sexual misconduct from
those you demand sexual morality from. You can conceal financial corruption
from those who put their pounds in the collection plate. You can silence the
abused and protect the abuser. Guilt about sacrificing individuals is soothed
by protecting something bigger and more significant – the institution.
The second concept is "clericalism", a
word used to describe priests' sense of entitlement, their demand for deference
and their apparent conformity to rules and regulations in public, while
privately behaving in a way that suggests the rules don't apply to them
personally. (O'Brien was, in that sense, a classic example.) The Vatican is an
independent state; the Holy See a sovereign entity recognised in international
law and governed by the Pope. The Nunciature operates like government embassies
in different countries worldwide. It is even governed by its own rules: Canon
Law. All this contributes to the notion that the church can conduct its own
affairs without interference or outside scrutiny. It demands a voice in society
without being fully accountable to it.
In the weeks following O'Brien's departure, several
priests' meetings were held in his diocese. One was chaired by his temporary
replacement, Archbishop Philip Tartaglia of Glasgow,
and O'Brien's auxiliary bishop, Stephen Robson. Some priests
wanted messages of support sent to the cardinal, encouraging him to return to
Scotland for his retirement. Compassion for a sinner? Or clerical cover-up?
Some not only knew of the cardinal's behaviour, they may have been subject to
it.
Richard Sipe |
"The clerical power structure not only
protects clergy who are sexually active but sets them up to live double
lives," says Richard Sipe, an American psychotherapist and
ex-priest who has spent many years researching celibacy and abuse.
"Corruption comes from the top down. Superiors, rectors and bishops do
have sexually active lives and protect each other – a kind of holy
blackmail."
Professor Tom Devine |
Is this the biggest crisis for the Catholic church
since the Reformation, asked Professor Tom Devine, one
of Scotland's leading historians? But one cardinal is not the crisis. Thousands
of abused children around the world, and an institution that silences them:
that is the real crisis. The church claims child-protection policies have been
in place in Scotland since 1999. Judge them for yourself in the following
stories. Events come right up to the last few weeks, with Keith O'Brien's
resignation as backdrop. The American civil-rights activist, Martin Luther
King, once said, "There comes a time when silence is betrayal." In
the Catholic church, that moment has long since passed.
Speaking publicly for the first time, Pat McEwan
says he fell prey to a paedophile ring of priests. His main abuser, his parish
priest, encouraged Pat to visit him, then appeared to slip into a trance. Pat
shook him. "I've just been talking to Jesus and he says would you like to
go to heaven?" said the priest. Then he asked, "Do you love your
mummy?" Yes Father. "Do you love your daddy?" Yes Father.
"Do you love me? Because this is our little secret and you mustn't tell
your mummy or daddy or you will go to the burny fire."
Pat McEwan at the age of his abuse |
This was the 1950s. Parish priests were honoured guests in Catholic homes. The priest arranged for Pat's devout mother to visit Carfin Grotto, leaving Pat with a priest friend of his. Pat remembers watching through the window while his mother disappeared into the grotto. As soon as she did, the priest turned to him. "I want you to do for me what you have done for your parish priest," he said. Then he raped him. Afterwards, he tried to quieten the child's tears before his mother returned. "God doesn't like boys who cry. Be a soldier of Christ."
The Grotto |
Child abuse is rarely contained within childhood.
The events bleed into every aspect of adult choices, relationships, employment
and health. Victims suffer from alcoholism, mental-health issues and
post-traumatic stress disorder. It is not uncommon for male victims to end up
in prison. Cameron Fyfe is a Scottish
lawyer who has dealt with more than 1,000 Scottish cases of abuse by the
Catholic church. "Not one person has come out unharmed," he says.
"Every one has had their life smashed." Pat is no different. He
became an alcoholic, though he has now been sober for 18 months.
Pat approached the church in the late-90s. He never
once asked for money. Instead, he sought counselling, a spiritual retreat
– and acknowledgement. "This has always been about justice." He
enlisted the support of Alan Draper, a child-protection expert who had
worked for the church in the mid-90s. Draper had left, unhappy with the
bishops' persistent refusal to take appropriate action. Now, he accompanied Pat
to a meeting with Bishop Joseph Devine of
Motherwell. In their accounts both Pat and Draper say that the bishop's
solution to the horrifying tale was simple. "Pat, he's an old man,"
he said. "Please let him away with it."
Bishop Devine outside his retirement mansion |
Pat produces a file of letters, not just from the
bishop but from his safeguarding team. The tone is frequently hostile, as if
"safeguarding" in the diocese is not so much about protecting victims
as protecting the church from victims. In one, Pat is berated for telephoning
the office. "Could I please ask," writes diocesan safeguarding
adviser Tina Campbell, "that if you wish to make contact with any member
of the diocesan safeguarding team, this is done by letter and not on the
phone?"
In 2010, Pat approached O'Brien. Despite being the
most senior Catholic in Britain, O'Brien said he could not interfere in Bishop
Devine's area. Draper subsequently wrote to Devine on Pat's behalf in February
2011, asking him to meet them both. He refused. Pat, he insisted, should meet
him alone. "If he were to be accompanied by yourself or anyone else, the
meeting would be cancelled," he wrote. "I take it that I have
made myself clear to you on this matter." At the meeting, Devine rounded
on Pat. "You are nothing but an alcoholic," he said.
"All Pat wanted," says Draper, "was
for the bishop to say, 'Sorry, we believe you.'" In November last year,
Pat finally received a letter from Tina Campbell saying that in "an
attempt to bring some sort of closure" they were referring the case to
Motherwell police, who are currently investigating. Pat's main abuser is now
dead, but one remains alive. It has been a long journey.
The reality of "safeguarding" in the
Catholic church is that each bishop presides over an independent fiefdom.
Draper has asked for evidence of annual reviews that the church agreed to back
in 1996. So far, they have not been forthcoming. In response to questions
regarding church procedures in abuse cases, the Catholic church's director of
communications, Peter Kearney, told the Observer,
"'The church' as referenced in your question doesn't actually have a locus
in this issue, in that in Scotland, 'the church' consists of eight separate and
autonomous diocese, each with its own bishop and each responsible for the issue
of safeguarding in their own area. The way a complaint is handled in one
diocese should be the same as in every other, but… that hasn't always been the
case."
It confirms, says Alan Draper, what he has been
saying for years. "The bishops exercise tight control and do nothing for
victims. The so-called national co-ordinator is effectively sidelined into
training the laity and is toothless to do anything that really matters. It is
a sham."
Ann Matthews also lives in Bishop Devine's diocese.
In the 1980s, she was regularly abused from the age of 11 to 17 by her priest.
She has never told her parents. They were extremely devout and the priest
frequently said prayers in their house. After visiting Ann's dying grandmother,
he came downstairs and tried to have sex with her on the sofa.
After accepting the abuse had happened, Devine
quietly sent the priest away for counselling, telling the parish he was
retiring due to ill health. That, says Ann, denied other parents the
opportunity to assess whether their children had also been affected. Some
studies suggest abuser priests may have around 50 victims.
Ann says her life has been broken. She suffers from
eating disorders, sleep disorders, anxiety and depression. She is frequently
suicidal. She has no job. She has a partner, but will never have children as
she doesn't want to inflict her insecurities on a child. "Sometimes, it
feels like I died a long time ago, that there's this body that walks around the
earth and doesn't know it should lie down."
In a meeting that included priests of the diocese,
she was asked why she allowed the abuse to continue. But Ann was a child. She
tried to convince herself abuse was love. "I said to them, I am
sitting here as a grown woman, but when this happened I had knee-high socks and
bobbles in my hair." "Oh come on!" retorted one of the priests,
before adding, "Give her money and let her run."
She never received money, but she did get
counselling, which she was grateful for. In the next 12 years, the church never
once asked for a report. Last year, they wrote out of the blue, telling Ann her
funding was being withdrawn. Her final session would be May 2013. Her
counsellor wrote to the church saying Ann has been suicidal for substantial
periods and still needs support. "It's as if they calculated that I was
abused for seven years," says Ann, "but had counselling for 12 – so
time up. I'm just someone who has had a vast claim on their resources."
The church has no policy regarding counselling.
Again, individual bishops decide. Helen Holland was a victim of serious
physical and sexual abuse in the 1960s and 70s in Kilmarnock's Nazareth House.
As a child she was hooded, held down by a nun and raped by a priest. She
went on to become a nun herself, but eventually left her order. Now vice-chair
of the Scottish survivors' group, Incas, she has spoken on behalf
of victims in the Scottish parliament.
Helen Holland, who was sexually assaulted
during childhood by a nun at Nazareth House in Kilmarnock. Photograph:
Murdo Macleod for the Observer Murdo Macleod/Observer
The legacy of her abuse is still with her and Helen
has paid for counselling at different periods in her life. But in recent years,
she started experiencing "night terrors", regularly sleepwalking
outside her home. "It's like being a child all over again. My counsellor
said I was trying to reach the child within and I said that little girl Helen
died. She doesn't exist any more. But it's not as simple as that. I can't put
the lid back on it."
Now on disability allowance because of ill health,
Helen could no longer afford counselling. She wrote to the church last June,
asking for help. She never received a reply. The nun who abused her was Irish
so she made an application to the Irish government. It now funds her treatment
rather than the church.
Charles Simpson, an Edinburgh man who says he was
abused and raped by his parish priest in the 1990s, also ran into a church wall
of silence. Charles had alcohol and drug problems following the abuse, and
ended up in prison for continually breaking into the parish house where it had
happened. "I was hitting back at the church. It was an angry time in my
life." He is still on antidepressants and methadone. "I want to
be able to function, to be a member of society, but it's hard. He had me so
wrapped up in fear and loneliness, telling me my family was poor because they
were unemployed. The things he said made me feel I had no strength."
Charles sought the help of a priest who approached
O'Brien on his behalf. "The priest was told to keep quiet," says
Charles, who subsequently asked the church for counselling. He, too, got no
reply. The silence prompted him to take legal action: he is now suing the
Archdiocese of St Andrews and Edinburgh for £100,000. His lawyer, Cameron Fyfe,
says the church's official defences in the action have been surprising. For the
sake of a legal defence, they have denied that one of their objectives is to
"spread the word of God". And they have claimed they had no power to
move or remove the priest, or to control – or even direct – his activities.
The time bar rule in Scottish law means civil
action should be taken within three years of either the abuse, or the victim's
16th birthday. Most civil cases against the church have failed for that reason.
Fyfe hopes the court will use its discretion to allow this case to proceed, but
the process could take years. "Money…" says Charles wearily. "It
doesn't change what happened. I feel like I'm up against it. To me, they are
just legal gangsters."
In the wake of the O'Brien scandal, Archbishop
Tartaglia, said – as if it were a rare accusation – that the most
"stinging charge" against the church was hypocrisy. Yet the hierarchy
knows further scandal is only a whisper away. The four complainants against the
cardinal were accused of being part of a gay cabal. They were not. But priests
and church insiders say a gay culture does exist in the Scottish church.
This is about cronyism, secrecy and an all-male culture. The Scottish church
still bears the scars from Roddy Wright, bishop of Argyll
and the Isles, who ran off with a woman in 1996. Until O'Brien's behaviour was
revealed, it was perhaps tempting for the hierarchy to believe gay priests were
"safer". Homosexual affairs – especially with other clergy – are
easier to hide than those involving women and children.
Homosexuality is only an issue because of the
church's public stance on it. It should go without saying that there is no link
with abuse. But Richard Sipe believes there may be a link between abuse and
celibacy. In 1990, he published a 25-year American study showing that at any
one time, 50% of priests will have been sexually active in the past three
years. That figure has been replicated in other places: Spain, Holland,
Switzerland and South Africa. "O'Brien and Scotland are not alone or
exceptions," says Sipe.
The Catholic church has created a hierarchy of
sexual morality with celibacy at the pinnacle. But that can create distortions.
Sipe's studies suggest around 70% of priests display psychosexual immaturity.
Celibacy, he argues, is not something most people can achieve. When legitimate
sexual outlets are forbidden, some turn to illegitimate ones. "The
majority of clergy are unable to deal with sexual deprivation in healthy
ways," he argues. Around 6% of priests will have sex with minors. In
Australia, abuse by Catholic priests is six times higher than other churches
combined.
David has direct experience of Australia and New
Zealand. He rebuffed the sexual advances of a 65-year-old Jesuit in New Zealand
when he was 14. He later joined the religious life himself and was sexually
approached both in a Cistercian order and a seminary. In Australia, he was
approached by a senior priest in a Dominican priory. Many priests have
similar stories, but keep quiet because they are still part of the institution.
David, however, left the religious life.
Afterwards, he had an affair with a man he calls
Peter, who had left a seminary in Rome. Peter took David to his old
haunts, calling in on a convent he had visited for weekly confession. His
confession was always heard last, after the nuns, by a priest who later became
a bishop. "At the top of the convent," says David, "there was
a comfortable room set aside for confession. But what started as
confession turned into a weekly lover's tryst. Peter, who was somewhat
bitter about having quit Rome, was eager during that holiday to tell me the
exact nature of their lovemaking. It involved anal intercourse." The
priest – whom David names – was operating at the highest levels of the Vatican.
There were those who tried to make O'Brien into a
victim. Perhaps he was a victim of a dysfunctional system. But the real victims
are the powerless and voiceless. Many live lives they feel are tainted and will
never wash clean. Michael is an ex-seminarian who went to the police when
O'Brien refused to take appropriate action against his abusers in seminary.
Known in the Scottish press as "Michael X", he eventually received
£42,000 compensation from the Catholic church, which Sipe estimates has paid
out £3bn worldwide.
Michael has previously described how he told his
spiritual director about the abuse. The man assured him he was not to blame –
then made sexual advances, too. What Michael hasn't revealed before is his
guilt at what happened next. He had to serve on the altar for the spiritual
director at a private mass. "At the prayer, 'Lord have Mercy',"
Michael recalls, "he dropped to his knees and grabbed my legs. He was
shaking from head to toe, saying, 'Lord have mercy, Michael have mercy.' It was
horrendous. He disintegrated in front of me." The priest died of a brain
haemorrhage not long after. When it was suggested the cause was stress, Michael
felt devastated.
Many shoulder the guilt and shame that belongs to
their abusers. Ann cannot let go of that question, "Why didn't you do
something?" In an email after we talk, she writes: "I am not
sure how much longer I can go on. The sad thing is that even if I ended my life,
I would simply become another statistic."
This is a very sad story for all the poor victims. It seems to me that the hierarchy and clergy in the church act more under the influence of the Dark One than the Holy Spirit when it comes to openness, honesty and compassion for the victims. HAVE THEY NO FEAR OF GOD AT ALL?
ReplyDeleteI'm deeply ashamed of the Priests who abused those innocent children, and also of the heartless way that the church hierarchy dealt with the victims. I literally could weep at how the broken hearted were treated with suspicion & disdain, by those who purport to represent the healing compassion of Christ. Those church men will one day have to look into the face of Jesus, and at that moment they will be seized by guilt and shame, for the way they misrepresented Christ. They may attempt to hide their actions in this life, but there is no hiding place on the day of judgement ! As a Priest it is frightening to read of the level of abuse within our church. I have the deepest sympathy for those who have suffered abuse by clergy or nuns . How difficult it is for them to turn to God or his church for help after such traumatic events. Jesus feels their pain even if so many of his anointed ones do not.
ReplyDeletePriest of Down & Connor.
In the Glasgow area speculation is rife as to the members of a gay cabal of clergy known as the magnificent seven. One priest, who was a member but was dumped and replaced, in a drunken moment revealed that they are not all clergy, four are and the other three are laymen. A lawyer, an undertaker and a restauranter. The priest has been telling clergy colleagues in Edinburgh that one of the clergy is "very senior". More details are emerging on a daily basis.
ReplyDeleteThis report is deeply depressing.
ReplyDeleteThe hierarchical power structure of the Catholic Church facilitates this awful abuse of
children.
We need a completely new theology of priesthood, one that does not set the priest at
the centre of cultic worship, but focuses instead on community as a whole.
To this end, clerical titles and dress should be abolished, including the title 'Father'. These express rank (hierarchy) and pander to human vanity. They do not encourage
humility among the clergy, but instead aggrandise it over lay Catholics.
The idea that a priest 'participates' in the priesthood of Christ (which is what I was taught in seminary) is actually a blasphemous notion and encourages priests to think
of themselves as 'other Christs', both in AND out of liturgical worship.They are nothing of the kind!
This pseudo-theological construct underpins the inflated notion of priesthood that exists in the Church. Priests are encouraged by this to think of themselves 'in loco
Christi'. The self-pride this can induce in a priest cannot be over-emphasised. Priests
can think they have nothing to learn from lay Catholics and from others. Why?
Because as one priest was honest enough to tell me in recent years: 'We think we
know it all' already.
What, then, is a priest? He is nothing more than a visible sign of CHRIST'S continuing
priestly activity in the Church. And that's wonderful in itself, a truly Christo-
centric notion of priesthood. But sadly, it's not enough for the dysfunctional clerical power structure in the Catholic Church, which would rather put itself at the centre of
cultic worship. This is what is known as 'clericalism', and it has been a bane on the Church almost since its inception.
It is good to hear that he will be obedient to the holy Father. He can still give good example through his obedience and penance. The last thing we need is another bitter old cleric chipping away at the good Church, I.e. the people of God.
ReplyDeleteTheir is a silly irish song called O Brien has no place to go. Sung by Brendan Shine among others. The title came to my mind. As to O Brien celebrating Mass in private-this is a contradiction in terms-Eucharist is a community event-The old pre vatican 2 altars are now decorative, ignored or dismantled. Nobody told me I could celebrate Mass in private. O brien needs to shelve the beretta and seek forgiveness and healing, consider means of restitution within the Christian Community. As to staying out of Scotland, The church has no rite or jurisdiction to insist on this. This is a matter for the Police if appropriate
ReplyDeleteIt seems new allegations are starting to surface about him; even straight priests also had to put up with his advances.
ReplyDeletehttp://www.thetablet.co.uk/news/1919/0/cushley-says-o-brien-destroyed-church-s-credibility-as-new-allegations-emerge
Ohh great. very very interesting and heart touching article. Thanks for sharing
ReplyDelete