Sexual Abuse and the C(c)atholic Church – An Ecumenical Response

This is a version of a famous icon of the reconciliation of St. Peter and St. Paul (Acts 15). It is one of my favorites. I have it up in my office and it often inspires my academic and personal work in the area of ecumenism. But notice how in this version Peter has been damaged. Anyone who has followed the news the last couple weeks will be well aware that Peter has been damaged of late, owing to the cascade of new reports about clerical sexual abuse and possible cover ups. Does the embrace of Paul continue?

One of the effects of Good Friday is that it forces us to look at the full consequences of our sin. The Son of God is assaulted by the worst we could throw at him. We nail our Lord Jesus to the Cross to slowly suffocate in agony. We cut open the side of the spotless Lamb. The readings and the liturgy prevent us from turning away from this ugly scene, if only for a moment. They bid us, “look at the man!”

The recent uncovering of more child abuse at the hands of clergy in Ireland, Germany and America has once again forced the Roman Catholic Church to be confronted by the sins of its members – its laity, priests, and bishops. Like the narratives of Scripture which tomorrow we will not only hear but include our own voices in, the media reports and the interviews of victims make it impossible to ignore the horror of what has happened at the hands of those who just days before were seen out in the streets praising Christ as liberator and King.

Obviously we would prefer not to look at the Church’s sin. We would prefer to defend ourselves or offer justifications and rationalizations about how it wasn’t as bad as it sounds or that it isn’t just a problem that happens in churches. We would like to focus on things we did right and turn the scrutiny around against others. All of this just perpetuates the sin. Perhaps some might go so far as to offer apologies, with the appropriate strong language and even sincerity. Yet somehow even the apologies come with strategies of avoidance.

For presently non-Roman Catholic Christians, of which I am one, there is sometimes a desire at a time like this to try to distance ourselves from the Church of Rome. It is easy to say things like: “Don’t look at me, this is a Catholic problem.” “We Anglicans, we Baptists, we Presbyterians don’t have anything to do with these pedophile priests.” It is even tempting to take a few shots at the Romans while they’re down, using the scandal for ideological purposes to kick against mandatory celibacy or the male only priesthood.

It has been said that Christian denominationalism is a luxury held over from established Western Christendom. Christians have the time to fight amongst themselves only when they find themselves in a situation where their lives are not at risk for following Christ. Just as there are no atheists in foxholes, there are no Lutherans or Pentecostals or Roman Catholics in the face of costly persecution. Without wanting to diminish the seriousness of the issues involved in Christian divisions, this surely has some truth.

I believe the same principle holds true when Christians are the persecutors. This latest round of abuse may have taken place within the Roman Communion, but to everyone else watching the news it is just another example of the failure of the Church to live up to its lofty claims; just more hypocrisy in a long line of Christian hypocrisy. The credibility of the Gospel I profess is called into question. My co-worker knows I’m a Christian, so he calls on me to answer for it. The denominational distinctions we so often trouble ourselves with are irrelevant in the face of this kind of scandal.

The Christian ecumenical movement seeks the restoration of the visible unity of the Church of Christ on earth. Over the past 100 years there have been some remarkable discoveries of real though imperfect communion between divided Christians, despite centuries of separation and distrust. Different churches and ecclesial communities may have different ways of understanding or explaining the reality of ecclesia extra ecclesia (the Church outside the church), but the ecumenical fact remains. The acknowledgment of even a small measure of communion in Christ binds us together across institutional walls. Somehow we all participate in the Church of God by virtue of common baptism, even if we would sometimes like it to be otherwise.

As a non-Roman Catholic who has been visibly divided from the Church of Rome but understands himself yet bound to all who bear the name of Christ, I must acknowledge that I remain bound to Br. Brendan Smyth, Fr. Lawrence Murphy, Cardinal Sean Brady, and Pope Benedict XVI. I cannot pretend their failings have nothing to do with me. The sins of a Roman Catholic priest or a Roman Catholic bishop are not Roman Catholic sins but sins of those who represent and speak for the same Body of Christ in which I am by baptism also included. Thus I too am wounded and implicated by them; I too must offer an answer to those who rightfully decry the Church’s faults. Though a painful one, this too is a price of ecumenical commitment.

I therefore want to encourage other non-Roman Catholics who share the same commitment not to turn away from the sins of our brothers and sisters in Christ; not to pass the guilt off on them to save our own face. These are sins of the Church, of which we too profess to be members. That means that we too must involve ourselves in the ecclesial penitence that God in his mercy calls us to. That means we must join in pressing those in positions of Church leadership to take unprecedented steps of repentance themselves. That means demanding and being a part of a serious renovation of the mechanisms and mindsets that have allowed this kind of thing to go on undetected or unacknowledged for far too long. It’s not just a Roman Catholic issue. It’s not just Peter who is damaged. We are in this mess together, and we must be broken by it together.