The Path Forward

“Sadness, Shock, Shame and Outrage.” These are the words Thomas Rodi, Archbishop of Mobile, used to begin his reflection on the scandal involving Cardinal McCarrick and the recent Attorney General of Pennsylvania’s report on clerical abuse.   I share those sentiments, but can only imagine how much harder it has been for good and faithful bishops like him, who are now “guilty by association” in the public eye. 

For these reasons, and because we live in a culture of immediacy, the National Conference of Catholic Bishops is under tremendous pressure to act swiftly to address these issues. But as important as it is to be proactive, I think it would be a mistake to respond to this horrible chapter in our Church’s story too quickly, especially if the response is exclusively the result of an internal action of the bishop's conference. 

In a recent talk with young people, Pope Francis said: “When we adults refuse to acknowledge some evident reality, you tell us frankly: ‘Can’t you see this?’ Some of you who are a bit more forthright might even say to us: ‘Don’t you see that nobody is listening to you any more, or believes what you have to say?’ (Crux, September 25, 2018) 

It’s a hard truth that many people in the United States feel that way about our bishops already. As revolting as McCarrick’s actions are, what is nearly as bad is the fact that people in leadership positions, who had the ability to engage in "fraternal correction,"  looked the other way.  In Pennsylvania, many of the bishops seemed more inclined to  “hide” the clerical abuse to protect the Church’s liability and self-image, rather than act out of concern for the victims. 

Coupled with the Vigano allegation that Pope Francis knew of McCarrick's abuse but allowed him to function as an influential Cardinal in the Church, a friend of mine--a life-long, faithful Catholic--recently said,  “My respect for our Church’s leadership is at an all time low.” 

For this reason, how the National Conference of Catholic Bishops responds to this crisis in their November assembly is almost as important as to the what they decide to do.  On the agenda currently is a vote over an “Administrative Committee” Statement, written by a smaller team of bishops on September 19, 2018, which recommends four actions:

1. Establish a third party reporting system which will receive complaints against a bishop and direct them to the appropriate civil and ecclesiastical authorities;
2. Direct a bishop’s subcommittee to develop proposals for restricting bishops who have been removed or resigned for reasons of scandal;
3. Create a “Code of Conduct” for bishops regarding sexual misconduct with adults or minors, or negligence in responding to issues related to sexual misconduct;
4. Support a full investigation of the situation surrounding McCarrick, including the abuse itself, who knew, and what people did or didn’t do about it. 

The statement ends by inviting brother bishops to join in acts of prayer and penance. It encourages other victims to step forward and promises them a pro-active and compassionate response. 

Regardless of whether this is a sufficient response in terms of the “what,”  it’s clearly insufficient in terms of a process. The bishops stand accused of covering over decades of abuse, “closing ranks” to protect themselves and their priests at the expense of victims. So having a small group of bishops make proposals to a larger group of bishops for a vote, “to protect the Church”, as one pundit phrased it, “from themselves,” will simply feed the narrative that this is a closed system which is not open to collaboration or real reform. 

For the good of our Church and the teaching authority of our bishops, we’re going to have to embrace a more inclusive process. 

I propose something akin to the Bishop’s Pastoral Letter on the Economy from the mid 1980’s. That process involved creating two “draft statements” from the bishop’s conference, each of which invited lay and expert response from across the country. Parishes were encouraged to host forums for discussion about each draft, and the results were summarized and sent to the bishop, who in turn would send them to the NCCB.  For each subsequent draft, a bishop’s committee would review the responses and incorporate key insights into the next draft, leading to a third and final statement, which ended up being the most widely read and I would argue, the most influential statement of the NCCB ever written. Perhaps the September 19 Administrative Statement, then, could be regarded as a “first draft” by the NCCB, and the bishops could invite lay reflection and proposals for a second draft, and then create a third and final statement. 

There is no doubt that extending out the process in this way will prolong the public discussion about abuse within our Church. There is also no doubt that many of the recommendations arising out of greater consultation with the laity will be more radical than the bishop’s conference might be inclined to make on its own.  I would expect, for example, a demand from the laity that they would have more of a voice in the selection of bishops, at least at the first stage of consultation. I would expect more scrutiny and a call for greater transparency in diocesan finances, with more oversight from diocesan finance councils.  I’d expect more details on what a “third party reporting system” looks like, and whether or not there was any ecclesiastical authority that could re-direct how reports of abuse were handled. I would expect, yes, renewed discussions about a married priesthood and the role of women in leadership positions in the Church. I’d expect a re-examination of priestly living, especially the question of whether it is healthy for men to live the entirety of their adult lives alone in rectories, vs. some sort of communal arrangement with priests from different parishes. 

I know that some of these issues are outside the jurisdiction of the bishops, and I suspect that most would prefer to define the scope of all this more narrowly.   But in light of the failings of too many, I don't think the NCCB is going to be able to dictate how all this unfolds, especially if they wish to regain the moral influence and authority they have abdicated. Before there is too much talk, there needs to be a lot of listening. 

In the mean time, let us pray for our bishops, most of whom are fine men doing God's work for our local churches.

"Ordinary Time"

These are my comments to students today during assembly.

So the mid-quarter report cards were last week, and the quarter ends on October 12, with 3 weeks of school between now and then. The “newness” of the year has probably rubbed off, and maybe you’re feeling the grind.  We’re in mid-season form now for football, volleyball, cheerleading and cross country—and practices, I am sure, are beginning to feel on occasion, like drudgery. We are in what our Church calendar calls “Ordinary time,” the time in between major celebrations such as Christmas and Easter. 

One of our tendencies in our culture is to focus our attention on the big events—the extraordinary moments in our lives—In a school culture, perhaps, Homecoming, Prom, Graduation. We look forward to these things, we long for them, and there’s nothing wrong with that, except if in our longing, we forget the here and now. 

When I was a junior at McGill, there was an English teacher who would call on us randomly at the beginning of class to lead the class in prayer. Because we weren’t very good at it, we’d often revert to praying for the same thing over and over, and I remember one of those prayers was “Lord, help the weekend get here quickly.” After about the 15th time in a row we prayed for the weekend, our teacher said, “You know, you’re praying your life away. What about now?” 

That was 40 years ago, but I still think about that comment. There’s truth in it. Our culture lives for the weekends. There was even a bad song that came out in the 80’s, called “Everybody’s working for the weekend.” But if our focus is only on the weekend, then what about Mondays and Tuesdays? If it’s only about the big events in our future and not about the now, we can miss the extraordinary things within the ordinary—the chance to reach out to a friend and be a good listener, the chance to make someone’s life better, the chance to improve ourselves precisely because we’re willing to do our homework well or practice hard. 

My mother used to have a plaque above the kitchen sink with a saying from St. Therese: “God moves among the pots and pans.” I think St. Therese was making this exact point—we may look for God in the big things, the miraculous, but miss him in the ordinary day to day, like doing the dishes, interacting with our family, in preparing for our classes, in being kind to someone during lunch. It's in these ordinary occurrences that God is present. 

So let’s keep that in mind this week. Happy Monday! May you work hard today, and may you sense God’s presence in all that you do, all the people that you meet, and all the chances you have to become better students, better teammates, better persons today.  

Skin in the Game

This is my talk with the student body on September 17, 2018

If you were listening to the gospel carefully on Sunday, Jesus does something very strange.  We talked about this last year in sophomore theology. 

Mark’s gospel tells the story of Jesus asking the apostles, “Who do you say that I am?” The apostles report what others have been saying, “Some say you’re John the Baptist, others Elijah, still others one of the prophets.” “But who do YOU say that I am?” Jesus inquires. The apostles go silent, and only Peter speaks up—“You re the Messiah.” Only Peter, of all the apostles, truly understands who Jesus is. In Matthew’s version of the same event, Jesus responds back to Peter, “Blessed are you, Peter, for no man has revealed this to you, but my Father in heaven.” 

That’s a pretty high compliment.  Peter must have been feeling pretty good about himself. 

Then Jesus begins to preach that he must suffer, be rejected by the elders, the chief priests, and be killed. Peter pulls him aside and says “No, Lord, you cannot let that happen.” And Jesus gets very angry at Peter, and rebukes Peter before all the apostles, saying “Get behind me Satan! You are thinking not as God does, but as humans do.”  

Did you notice? In just four verses in the gospel, Jesus goes from saying  “Blessed are you, Peter…” to “Get from behind me Satan!” 

What’s going on? The clue is in what Jesus says next:  “He summoned the crowd with his disciples and said to them: Whoever wishes to come after me must deny himself, take up his cross and follow me. For whoever wishes to save his life will lose it, and whoever loses his life for my sake will gain it.” 

Do you see? Peter knows the truth. He knows who Jesus is. He has faith in him. But he doesn’t want Jesus to suffer any hardships. He doesn’t understand that suffering is part of the deal.  And furthermore, when Peter later denies Jesus, he shows he doesn’t really want faith in Jesus to call HIM to suffer, either. 

We’re tempted to think like this, too, right? We live in such wealth that we get used to things being easy, and even worse, we start to believe that things SHOULD to be easy, and that when anyone calls us to do something hard, or challenges us, well, much like Peter, we’re tempted to believe that person isn’t thinking correctly, or that such a person is doing something wrong to us. 

In my school up in Montgomery a mother of a junior girl once came to see me about our Algebra II teacher. Her daughter wasn’t doing well in the class, and this caused her some tears and stress, which made the mother angry. So the Mom came into my office like a bear protecting her cubs, demanding what I intended to do to this teacher. “For what?” I asked. “For making my daughter miserable every night. She cries all the time. ” “I’m sorry about that,” I said, “Has she gone after school to get extra help from this teacher? “No,” the mother said. “She says it won’t do any good—she can’t understand him.” “Has she asked other teachers in the Math department for some extra help? I’m sure they’d be happy to help.” “No,” said the mother, getting angrier. “My daughter should not have to seek extra help from other teachers—it's her Algebra II teacher’s responsibility. It's flat-out unchristian what he's doing to her. Now what are you going to do about him?” 

I found myself getting angry, but I had to step back emotionally and look at it analytically. What were this mother’s set of assumptions that caused her to leap to the conclusion that this teacher was acting in an unchristian manner because she was having a hard time in his class? And I realized she was thinking like Peter in this gospel—that life is supposed to be easy—that school is supposed to be easy—and that anyone makes it hard is doing something wrong, or even sinful! 

I think the message of Jesus—the call of discipleship—is that we have to have some “skin in the game.” Do we know what that means? It means we can’t just sit on the sidelines of life and live virtual lives. It means we have to put ourselves in it, take some risks, endure some hardships, in order to experience love, and joy, and grace.  A student who never takes classes that challenges him or her may get mostly A’s, but will also never really experience the pride of achievement.  A person that doesn’t join a team for fear of failure or hard work will also never experience the utter joy of victory, or the “band of brotherhood or sisterhood” that develops among team mates. A person that never asks a girl out will never be rejected, but will also never experience the joy of being close to someone. 

Over the last few days, I’ve had the opportunity to go to the football game on Thursday, and the cross country meet on Saturday. What I took away from both events is how much you guys and girls are truly “putting yourselves out there” for your school. You’re putting your “skin in the game.” Even if we lose, even if we get beat, even if we’re not contenders for top 10 times in a race, it’s all about beating our personal best times, about representing our school, about being proud to be a Cardinal. 

I hope all of you will follow their lead. Join some things that challenge you a little this year. Risk failing some. Dive into the deep end and learn to swim—it’ll make your life much more interesting, much more fun, and yes, sometimes, a little harder. But doing hard things is good for our  souls—and the victories will be so much sweeter.