Nobody buying what Catholic Church defenders selling

My friends:

The Catholic Church's "defenders of the fake" have begun their expected counterattack to those pesky critics who still don't believe -- despite Pope Benedict sending them a letter -- that the Church's leadership (if that's the right word) is serious about putting pedophile priests behind bars along with the conspiratorial clergy who covered up their heinous crimes.

In my adopted hometown of New York City, the Church's defensive lineup was especially pathetic, and even comical.

Archbishop Timothy Dolan, leader of some of the city's Catholics, used his Palm Sunday performance to compare Benedict to Jesus Christ, a hysterical analogy that may in fact become blasphemous if the Pope is found to have been complicit in cover-ups himself.

The best comment on this absurd remark came from a commenter on IrishCentral's Facebook page: "The Pope is like Jesus Christ as much as Britney Spears is like the Virgin Mary."

As an IrishCentral blogger, I'm obviously biased, but I found it absolutely remarkable to see the unanmity of opinion on several articles about the Church scandal, as well as its critics and defenders. The sheer number of comments was astounding, and barely one had anything but criticism and rage to vent at the Church hierarchy and those who think the Pope made everything better with a letter.

But as it turns out, Dolan was just a warm-up act for the star comedian, Catholic League president Bill Donohue. Of course, this "league" isn't exactly the NFL; the staff list begins and ends with Donohue, who can devote all his time to it now that he's divorced (Oops! A cheap shot! Sorry!).

Donohue donated several thousand dollars to the newspaper he considers to be the pen of the anti-Christ, The New York Times, to run an ad declaring that gay people and homosexuality -- not child abuse and certainly not any cover-up -- was the real problem.

Donohue is a gifted writer -- of fiction, and this pathetic attempt to shift the blame and find a scapegoat was the work of a veteran actor. It's a classic Donohue move, but it's like a re-run you've seen a few times too often.

The "reviews" on the IrishCentral Facebook page in this case are so severe I can only repeat a few without racing to the confessional: "Complete moron." "Total b---wipe." "Stupid man." "Eejit." "Jaysus, what a f---ing gobshite."

Donohue must have thought he had a sure winner by blaming it on gays. The priests were men, right? Most of the victims were boys, right? There ya go! Fags, right?

Wrong, and everybody saw through it like glass.

As I said in my last blog, pedophilia is a dangerous mental illness that is arguably one of the most-studied in psychiatry. While no truly effective therapy or medication exists to deal with it at present, it is well-established that almost all pedophiles are heterosexual. They are sexually attracted almost exclusively to children, not to adult members of their own sex or the opposite sex. Most were not sexually abused as children -- another common myth.

Johns Hopkins University psychiatrist Dr. Frederick Berlin, who runs a treatment program for offenders, says it's flawed to assume that men who molest young boys are gay, and are attracted to adult men.

Interestingly, he defines attraction to children as a separate "orientation" of its own.

As pedophilia relates to priests, psychotherapist Dr. A.W. Richard Sipe argues that the sexual deprivation that occurs in the priesthood could lead a sick individual to turn to children, and that boys are more accessible to priests and other male authority figures than girls. The same is true of prison rape, where male and female offenders are segregated.

Needless to say, Donohue is not a doctor -- although he may need one, for his thinking is delusional and his passion uncontrollable. Facts are facts for most people, but sadly and pathetically, not for him. I'm sure he considers generations of scientific studies of pedophilia to be the work of pedophiles, or socialists, or whomever else is handy as a scapegoat.

People's comments on this comedy act may have given me a brief smile, but there's nothing at all funny, really. Terrible, unspeakable crimes have been committed, with God's most-innocent the helpless victims. They were abused, beaten or raped by a clergy entrusted with their care. Almost as bad, their crimes were routinely covered up by the Church hierarchy -- perhaps even by Benedict -- and the perpetrators were left to prey on others. Church officials swore victims to secrecy and blamed them for their own abuse in acts of psychological torture. The Church used its self-made throne in society to hold police and political leaders at bay.

Until now, thank God.

The day of reckoning has arrived at last, and Our Heavenly Father has opened the dark skies to let His Light pour in. No one can escape God's Final Judgment, and let us pray that those who abused His Dear Children by vile act or vile cover-up, will not escape earthly judgment as well.

God bless you all!

-- Father Tim

Catholic Church is getting sex education the hard way

My friends:

A great deal of the rage and shock felt by the public about the Catholic Church's self-inflicted child sex abuse scandal centers on a simple question: WHY didn't those in authority DO SOMETHING right away when they heard about THE PROBLEM?

Of course, many of those in authority DID do something right away: They either ignored it, blamed the victims and swore them to silence after wrenching, blame-switching interrogations, or transferred the offending priest to another parish or even another country where he was free to renew his evil acts. A few sought to send the priest, or the victims, or all of them, to a Church psychiatrist (a responsibility I know well) -- hopefully to both sort out the truth, arrive at a just solution consistent with canon and civil law, and to help begin the process of emotional and spiritual healing needed by all.

Sadly but honestly though, this latter path was the exception rather than the rule. And an even less-followed path was simply calling the police, although in Ireland particularly, the Church had built itself a very high pedestal from which to "rule" its flock -- which the police were part of. They were not in the business of arresting priests on the word of a couple of young, probably "misbehaving" boys.

I am sure it will not shock you to hear that the Church has a BIG problem with sex. In fact, the pedophile scandal has probably forced the Vatican to use the word "sex" more often in the past couple of months than it has in the past couple of centuries. There is little in the Gospels to help it offer the Faithful a very clear "What would Jesus have done?" about anything relating to sex -- much less, sex crimes. And they haven't gotten very far with just "Be fruitful and multiply" and the strong implication that sex is for having children (and, oh yes, expressing love).

Whether or not the Church's asexual structure -- priests and nuns taking a vow of chastity and living in same-sex cloistered communities (as I do) -- helps or hurts the problem has been much debated. I don't intend to take it up here, not because I fear its honest discussion, but because it is a topic unto itself and one that the medical community's long-term studies of pedophilia simply do not seem to make relevant to the current scandal. It may be, it may not be -- but that is for another time. Put simply for now, there is almost no evidence to support a connection, as "logical" as it seems to many.

The Church's intense fear of sex has only grown more complicated and problematic as has sex itself over the years. There are variants (I'm sure some would prefer a harsher word) such as polygamy, bisexuality, homosexuality, transgenerdism. There is sexual addiction, rampant and degrading pornography, prostitution, and forced sterilization. There is the issue of sex education for the young and contraception for all. There is the crime of rape, and rape at its most-disturbing -- in acts of pedophilia against God's most-innocent. And of course, there is abortion, an assault on God-given Life that unbelievably is mandatory in some cultures.

So, if you're like many in the Church and can't bring yourself to say "penis" even if you teach biology, then dealing with the rest of the list is pretty much of a lost cause.

And that brings us to the Church and its dealing -- or not dealing -- with pedophile priests and their victims.

Pedophilia, one of the most-studied and researched areas of psychiatry, is a mental illness which, at the moment, is lacking either an effective therapeutic or medical treatment, much less a cure.

Acts of pedophilia, especially sexual acts involving another human being, are among the most-serious of crimes. Hiding or covering-up such acts is also a crime.

Although Jesus did not discuss pedophilia during His Ministry on Earth, He often spoke of the sick, and of justice. Compassion for the sick is a Gospel imperative. Justice and ultimately, God's Forgiveness, come through Confession of our sins to Him, AS WELL AS earthly atonement for them. These two elements, while separate, cannot be separated.

Although in law enforcement, the term "pedophile" is loosely used to describe those convicted of child sexual abuse or the sexual abuse of a minor, the American Psychiatric Association's authoritative "Diagnostic and Statistical Manual of Mental Disorders" describes pedophilia as an illness in which a person either has intense sexual urges toward children, and experiences recurrent sexual urges toward and fantasies about children that they have either acted on, or which cause them severe distress and interpersonal problems.

The medical criteria does NOT require actual sexual activity with a prepubescent youth. The diagnosis can be made based on the presence of fantasies or sexual urges even if they have never been acted upon. Of course, a person who acts upon these urges yet experiences no distress about their fantasies or urges can also qualify for the diagnosis. Acting on such sexual urges is not limited to overt sex acts, and can sometimes include indecent exposure, voyeuristic behavior, or achieving sexual satisfaction from child pornography.

Given this scientifically and correctly broadened definition, it is probably not hard for some people to think of friends, co-workers or acquaintances who -- while they might not ever commit any kind of child sexual assault -- are nonetheless immersed in our hedonistic, youth-and-beauty worshiping society in a dangerous way. Many people are all too proud to admit over a beer how they "like 'em young, the younger the better!" Or, "if she was a just a couple of years older..."

Yes, most are probably lusting after teenagers or young adults, not children. But what would you say to a very dear friend who asked if he could tell you some dark secret about himself that he found deeply troubling, something awful that he could not stop - and it was that he craved sex with children, or indulged in child pornography? As a beloved friend, you'd likely urge him to immediately get professional help.

Would you have the courage, or desire, to ask the next question: "Have you ever actually...?" Would you really want to know the answer? And if the answer came and it was the one you feared, then what? Remember that the person facing you with this awful truth is someone you cherish.

Would you tell your dear friend that you would call the police? A psychiatrist -- despite the confidentiality of the doctor-patient relationship -- is required to. Would you? Perhaps the answer is yes -- I hope it would be.

But perhaps not. Your good friend might beg you not to ruin his life, destroy his family and career, and likely send him to prison. He might promise that the victim he told you about would be the last, that he would get help right away, that he would stop.

Whatever you did, it would probably be one of the most-difficult moments of your life. And this is how many "problem priests" first come to the attention of their superiors. Like you and your friend, they too are "brothers" who have shared much through their common vocations and work. It can be a wrenching moment.

But I'm sad to say that if I had to bet the rent, I'd be more trusting of a morally honest answer from you than from the Church. I believe that sooner or later, your conscience, guided always by the Holy Spirit, would lead you to do the right thing. And the right thing, without any question and despite any consequences, is to protect the children.

Why hasn't the Church done what you likely would have done -- and refused to do it repeatedly and over decades? And believe me, it has brushed under the carpet priests who are not agonized and sorrowful like your friend -- there have been unrepentant monsters who were gleeful, serial child-abusers, and escaped justice or even reprimand.

Why?

Of course, there are many answers - and all of them are bad. The misguided belief that serious pedophilia can be "counseled away." The sheer inertia of the Church's giant bureaucracy. The evil complicity with the abuser by hiding the truth. The fear that the ring-kissing respect many in the Church continue to believe they have would be lost. The worry that the Church would be financially ruined. The embarrassment of having to step down from their self-created royal pedestals and walk - as Jesus did - among the people, instead of ruling them and judging them from above.

But there is also this reality: A Church which will not let itself fathom the wide, ever-changing and expansive territory of human sexuality can never hope to deal with pedophile priests with an ounce of intellectual integrity, religious commitment, rigorous honesty, fidelity to canon and civil law, and ultimately, with God's Own Love for all, especially His innocents.

God bless you all!

-- Father Tim

Pope fights Irish Catholic Church nightmare with faith

My friends:

Many of my loyal readers emailed that they had expected an instant blog as soon as Pope Benedict XVI had issued his pastoral letter to the Faithful of Ireland, which will be read at all Masses today (Sunday), but is already very much public.

Given some of my past, angry posts about the decades-long debacle of child abuse by the Irish Catholic clergy and its criminal cover-up, I'm sure they expected me to be part of the Papal press lynch mob that has had such a fun and stimulating day lobbing verbal rockets at the Vatican.

Sorry, I'm not on that bandwagon. Maybe it's because I read the Holy Father's letter -- rather than just reading about it in the press. Maybe it's because -- before entering the Jesuit missionary service -- I have counseled priests and the victims of pedophilia as a psychiatrist. These chilling encounters and therapeutic work, especially with victims, will be with me forever.

Yet, if it all wasn't so tragic, it would be almost amusing to read the forests of reporting, commentary and "analysis" of Benedict's pastoral letter.

The best -- that is, the worst, and sadly, the majority -- strikes a dazzling, self-contradictory theme: After miles of lines decrying what Benedict didn't say about the scandal, many in the press ascend to the throne of self-righteousness and declare "there is nothing he could have said" about it, given its enormity.

Talk about having it both ways.

One commentator took it to the limit: "The greatest contribution the Pope could have made was to stop the abuse, and he's not even done that."

Come on, now. Is there anybody who thought a letter would achieve this deserved, prayed-for, and sought-after goal? Is there anybody who thinks the Pope would not "stop the abuse" in an instant if he could simply order it to stop as Jesus commanded a storm-tossed sea to be still?

Outside the walls of Vatican City, the Pope has few who are cheering his pastoral letter -- and many who might prefer to see him moved a few miles to the ancient Coliseum, where many Christians met a vicious and bloody end.

Believe me, my dear friends, when I say that I understand the pastoral letter -- both as a priest whose ultimate superior is Benedict, and also as a deeply angry and frustrated Catholic appalled by the sheer evil of this slaughter of the innocents and its disgusting, criminal cover-up.

As a priest, I thought the Pope spoke with great humility, sincerity and remorse -- and fully acknowledged the enormity of what has happened, and what has been allowed to happen. As a priest with strong Irish roots, I was deeply moved by his acknowledgement of the specialness of the Irish people and the Irish Church, and their mutual overcoming of overwhelming crises. At times, his words achieved a level of majesty and holiness that frankly, I did not think was in him. It apparently was, and is.

Vitally, he reminded us that faith in God and Jesus is "the rock from which we are hewn," and that now more than ever, faith is needed if the Church is to survive and flourish again. The Power of Faith is the Power of God's Own Love -- an unstoppable force against which any evil becomes but a frightened mouse. On a spiritual level, it is indeed all that is needed, for it is the Power of our Almighty God.

But, as just plain Tim the Catholic, the papal letter's almost total reliance on faith lets it travel only a few miles of a very long road, and feeds the cynicism of those who see his words as Church doubeltalk that sidesteps "the real issues."

I think that Terrence McKiernan, founder of the fine organization BishopAccountability.org, a group which monitors Church abuse cases, hits the nail on the head.

"There's a strong tendency to approach this as a problem of faith, when it is a problem of the Church's management and a lack of accountability," he said.

Actually, it's a problem of both -- Godly faith, and earthly management of the world's oldest institution. But Terrence is nonetheless right in reminding us that the Church is not some "thing" that floats on a cloud above the world. It is very much a part of the world, and that means it is a public citizen subject to the just laws of man and society.

At the individual and institutional levels, it has unquestionably committed crimes for which it must be held fully responsible. In this respect, it is terribly regrettable that the Pope's letter only makes a passing reference to cooperating with civil authorities, and makes no reference to reparations for its innocent victims.

Benedict also reminds those of us in his charge, both clergy and the faithful, to avail ourselves more often of the Power in the Sacrament of Reconciliation. As the old adage rightly says, "confession is good for the soul." Yet it is also suprising, that in a letter which is often so highly personal and introspective, that Benedict does not see himself in the mirror of this scandal and does not say that "I too have sinned."

I am not God, and I cannot say the Pope has sinned. But it is fair to point out as I have before, that as then-Cardinal Ratzinger, his Vatican offices would have made him the best-informed person in Rome as reports of clerical sex abuse poured in from around the world -- including during his own direct stewardship in Germany. "Let he who is without sin cast the first stone," Jesus said. Are the bishops of Ireland solely to blame, and are the Holy Father and the Curia blameless?

There are many more chapters to come in this unfolding mess, and I believe Benedict has given us a pastoral letter that goes farther and is more insightful than I had expected. But only the Word of God is the Word of God, in which we can truly place our complete trust, belief and love. He speaks to us through the Bible and, at every moment we open ourselves to Him, to our hearts, minds and souls. God's Word needs no judgment from us.

But Benedict's words are Benedict's words, and will be judged by his actions. Let us pray that the Holy Spirit guides his every step along the difficult journey to build and rebuild faith -- not just in Jesus Christ, but in His Church.

God bless you all!

-- Father Tim

My journey past alcoholism and to a real Saint Patrick's Day

My friends:

I'm Father Tim, and I'm an alcoholic.

Some of you will be familiar with the wording of my greeting; it's how recovering alcoholics (I'll be 15 years sober this Labor Day) introduce themselves before they speak at meetings of Alcoholics Anonymous.

I decided to "come out" to you, my dear readers, because Saint Patrick's Day is fast approaching, and sadly, it is a day that will see some recovering alcoholics "slip" and will help turn other drinkers into alcoholics. At AA meetings around the world, discussion has already turned to what is known to be a "slippery" time, when the temptation to drink, as well as the opportunity and not a small amount of social pressure, can increase to the breaking point.

As one of AA's trillion of on-the-mark slogans wisely says, "You're a lot closer to your next drink than you are from your last drink."

Veteran AA members have a good Irish sense of gallows humor when they see and read stories of bars, streets and trains filled with vomiting, out-of-control or unconscious parade revelers. "What amateurs!" they say with a smile.

For it's true that most "real" alcoholics don't stand out of the crowd. You may know some people who are alcoholics, or some you consider heavy drinkers -- but mostly, only those who have spent years afflicted with the insatiable, can't-live-a-day-without-it craving know what they are. And by then, since they have come to this realization, many have been able to stop.

I can tell you from long experience that "active" alcoholics live in a small, delusionary world -- and not just whe they're drinking or drunk. How many drunk drivers who have just mowed down some innocent soul been absolutely sure that they "just had a couple of beers" and were "okay to drive"? I have heard many of these true stories in AA meetings, in which people still weep years and even decades after imprisonment for incidents like this, after losing their jobs, spouses, families, friends, careers and reputations.

The Irish have a "reputation" when it comes to alcohol, and Saint Patrick's Day does little to improve it. Part of this reputation is truth, part is vicious prejudice, part is myth.

I could write -- and those with expertise far-greater than mine could write with even more authority -- a hundred blogs about the legendary Irish pub and its central role in ancient (and present) Irish life and society. I could write about the hardships the Irish have faced, living for years in what can only be called a state of apartheid and enforced poverty, in which a pint or two or three, especially by the warm fire of the pub surrounded by neighbors and friends, seemed a very small indulgence, and certainly not an illness when compared to the sick society inflicted upon them.

I could write about the legion of "Irish drinking songs" and the prevalence of alcohol in Irish literature and theater. Or, I could just say what many bigots say aloud or under their breath to this day -- that the Irish are just a bunch of drunks. For these people and many others, the facts that many countries have more-severe drinking problems than Ireland -- not to mention drug problems -- has no effect. That's the way bigotry works.

But ethnicity, ancestry, culture and history have very little to do with the problem. Alcoholism happens to one person at a time, and for reasons that are individual and unique. The bottle does not know its drinker.

Perhaps my own story, which I have recounted many times at AA meetings, will help make the point.

I do not come from an alcoholic family. I grew up near a giant steel plant in South Buffalo, NY, well within the long shadow cast by the nearby Our Lady of Victory Basilica and its well-known and feared school for misbehaving boys, run by the legendary basilica builder, Father Nelson Baker. I don't think I ever had more than a taste of alcohol until I was in college in New York City, and it was usually confined to a few beers on Friday night. Although I helped carry many a drunken friend home, I only needed the help myself on one occasion.

By the time I began my Formation in the Society of Jesus a few years after graduation, I was drinking more, and more regularly. Beer had been retired and the more-potent Jack Daniel's took its place. Jack was my good friend and companion for many years after and I relied upon him more and more. He was the perfect friend -- he was there to help me celebrate, and he was there to numb the blues. After a while, the occasion didn't matter. Neither did my drinking buddies. Jack and I spent our nights in my off-campus apartment, ignoring phone calls -- or making raving phone calls -- letting the world and its problems melt away until unconsciousness substituted for sleep as my dinner burned to ashes in the oven.

Yet, I was a model teacher and community worker as I continued on course to the priesthood. At the height of my drinking -- a liter of Jack every night -- my Father Superior told an audience of incoming novices that I was a model they should emulate, truly "a man for others," as we Jesuits say.

As my Jesuit Formation, education and devotion to Our Lord grew, the same Call that had brought me to this path came again. Again, and I thank God for this, my eyes were opened. I saw the man in the mirror, and I knew what I had become.

"They say" that knowing you have a problem means you're halfway to solving it -- but I'm not sure it applied to my alcoholism. I went to my first AA meeting, which was very, very far from campus, and couldn't believe that this bunch of weirdos and I had anything in common. I left at the first opportunity, supposedly to have a cigarette, and many months went by until I went back.

I went home to Jack.

My apartment was not faring well with its heavy-drinking tenant. I fell asleep -- drunk -- twice in the bathtub and almost washed away the building. I seldom emptied any trash, and flies greeted my every arrival. In some fit of anger, I had ripped my phone from the wall along with a few yards of wiring, and the corner pay phone became my only way to call anybody. .A tiny drip from the ceiling of my top-floor apartment soon became a stream whenever it rained, and a bit of cracked plaster became about eight square yards of fallen plaster.

I lived in fear that anybody -- the superintendent, a building inspector, the landlord, a friend -- would stop by. How could I let them in?

Although my work and progress continued, my world became small. There was no more room for friends or relatives, no reason to read or answer letters, bills or emails. The day was filled with work -- and I never drank during the day. But it was me and Jack all night.

I no longer had any doubts that I really was one of the "monsters" I had met at that AA meeting. I tried to drink less, to drink every other day, to take a different route home so I would miss the bars and liquour stores.

But I couldn't stop.

I went back to AA, and this time, I listened instead of judged. I began hearing my story coming from the mouths of others. I began to want the life these reformed drinkers had, and I began to see that it was possible. Somehow, an exceptional and beautiful book came to me, "Drinking: A Love Story" by the late Carolyn Maas.

I knew I had hit bottom, and, as AA says in its "Big Book," humbly surrendered to God, my "Higher Power" asking him to take this affliction from me. Soon, with His Grace and eternal Love, and the support and encouragement of my friends in AA, I stopped drinking.

After years of self-imposed darkness, God's Light had given my life back to me.

I owe an eternal thanksgiving to Him, and Alcoholics Anonymous, and Carolyn Maas, and many friends and strangers who held my unsteady, shaking hand. I have been sober ever since, and have continued to attend AA meetings and work with my brother and sister alcoholics. AA is truly everywhere -- even in the remote mission community in which I now live and work.

In the spirit of our patron Saint Patrick, a man with an iron will and a boundless heart, I pray that if you are suffering, you will seek the Help of God and the help of others, whose doors are always open. God loves His Dear Children with a changeless and unchangeable Love, and He will rush to your aid if you but ask Him with an open heart and mind. This is essential: God cannot do for you you what He cannot do through you.

As AA co-founder Bill Williams said, "Let go, and let God!"

God bless you all!

-- Father Tim