Who should confess, and who absolve?
By Peter Manseau April 16, 2010 Seven years ago, while Boston shook with the early tremors of the
Catholic Church's sexual abuse scandal, my mother shared news that
made my family part of what now seems a global seismic event. Like
thousands of others in more than 20 countries, she had been abused by
a priest in her youth.
Forty years earlier, she had been a pious girl, so much so that she
joined a religious order after high school and remained a nun for 10
years. A newspaper photo shows a priest blessing my mother's kneeling
family on the eve of her departure for the convent. The caption read
in part, "Dedicates Life to the Glory of God."
The priest in the picture had steered her toward religious life, my
mother told me. He also abused her for a year. One of those notorious
priests moved from parish to parish despite numerous warnings and
complaints, he had a church personnel file -- which was made public
through a lawsuit -- that included the descriptions "sick,"
"intolerable" and "extremely dangerous." "Will probably kill someone,"
said one memo sent up the chain of ecclesiastical command.
Perhaps most heinous: After many incidents of abuse, he drove my
mother to a neighboring parish to do penance -- to ask forgiveness for
what she had done.
I couldn't help thinking of this when I heard that Pope Benedict
XVI finally used the word "penance" to describe how he and others
implicated in the abuse scandal might make amends.
"We Christians, even in recent times, have often avoided the word
'penance,' " he said in a homily Thursday. But now, he added, "We see
how it is necessary to perform penance, that is, to recognize what is
wrong in our life."
Who exactly should visit the confessional over this, and who will absolve them?
If the Vatican truly wants to do penance, absolution should not be
sought in the secrecy of the confessional but in the open air of the
pews. And instead of "we Christians," the pope would do well to begin
his act of contrition as I'm sure my mother began hers long ago: "My
God, I am sorry."
By Peter Manseau April 16, 2010 Seven years ago, while Boston shook with the early tremors of the
Catholic Church's sexual abuse scandal, my mother shared news that
made my family part of what now seems a global seismic event. Like
thousands of others in more than 20 countries, she had been abused by
a priest in her youth.
Forty years earlier, she had been a pious girl, so much so that she
joined a religious order after high school and remained a nun for 10
years. A newspaper photo shows a priest blessing my mother's kneeling
family on the eve of her departure for the convent. The caption read
in part, "Dedicates Life to the Glory of God."
The priest in the picture had steered her toward religious life, my
mother told me. He also abused her for a year. One of those notorious
priests moved from parish to parish despite numerous warnings and
complaints, he had a church personnel file -- which was made public
through a lawsuit -- that included the descriptions "sick,"
"intolerable" and "extremely dangerous." "Will probably kill someone,"
said one memo sent up the chain of ecclesiastical command.
Perhaps most heinous: After many incidents of abuse, he drove my
mother to a neighboring parish to do penance -- to ask forgiveness for
what she had done.
I couldn't help thinking of this when I heard that Pope Benedict
XVI finally used the word "penance" to describe how he and others
implicated in the abuse scandal might make amends.
"We Christians, even in recent times, have often avoided the word
'penance,' " he said in a homily Thursday. But now, he added, "We see
how it is necessary to perform penance, that is, to recognize what is
wrong in our life."
Who exactly should visit the confessional over this, and who will absolve them?
If the Vatican truly wants to do penance, absolution should not be
sought in the secrecy of the confessional but in the open air of the
pews. And instead of "we Christians," the pope would do well to begin
his act of contrition as I'm sure my mother began hers long ago: "My
God, I am sorry."