To the Editor:
“‘Pray for Your Poor Uncle,’” by Elizabeth Bruenig (Sunday Review, July 19), about the child abuse victims of former Cardinal Theodore McCarrick, features a conclusion both startling and important.
Ms. Bruenig writes that the main survivor profiled, Francis M., reflects that “he thinks it’s possible to distinguish the church from the people who have for decades debased it.” She adds, “How dearly I wanted to hear that; how crucial it was for me to believe it.” These are sentiments I appreciate as a member of the deeply wounded Catholic Church.
Many people, if not most, may have written it off, but Francis notes that “all throughout the church, and the church’s history, you can see times where there were people who were really living testaments to their faith” at the same time that some church leaders took advantage of the power that they had.
Indeed, a leading example of this faithful witness was also named Francis: the poor friar of Assisi, admired worldwide for his radical love of God and neighbor. And as Dorothy Day, herself under official consideration for sainthood, put it to a fellow Catholic peace activist: “I never expected much of bishops … It is the saints that keep appearing all through history who keep things going.”
Julie Leininger Pycior
Hastings-on-Hudson, N.Y.
The writer, professor emerita of history at Manhattan College, is the author of the forthcoming “Dorothy Day, Thomas Merton and the Greatest Commandment: Radical Love in Times of Crisis.”
To the Editor:
This article shows the insidious way predatory priests weaseled their way into families at a time in history when sexual violation was not on the radar. The psychological abuse is so creepy and deep. The isolation and secrecy are deadly.
I was sexually abused by a charismatic Catholic priest who befriended my dad, drank with him and groomed my family before going on to rape me at 7 and countless other children.
Capturing the raw pain is hard, but the systemic piece is huge: one targeted family, feeling unique yet creeped out, surrounded by Catholics who are wowed by the hierarchy. The family and the victim then have to sort and sift alone. But when support and courage emerge as well as public support and courage, victims speak out.
Multiply this story by thousands, and the truth is revealed once again.
Patricia Gallagher Marchant
Franklin, Wis.
To the Editor:
Some may wonder how Francis M., the subject of the essay, and so many others could have been so naïve regarding former Cardinal Theodore McCarrick’s evil intentions. It was not being naïve, but rather trusting and needing to be part of such a powerful draw.
So many clergy were using spirituality as a front for their sexual perversions. I know this because I, too, fell into their hidden agenda.
I was not sexually abused; as a preteen I was searching for a “home” and a purpose. I was looking to be “adopted,” as so many priests were looking for a son to adopt.
In the seminary, I finally realized that the priesthood I was seeking did not exist. My message, though, is one of hope. For all of us who have been crushed by the hundreds of cover-ups, I have found a way to evolve and nourish my spiritual life even after experiencing such disappointment. I encourage Francis M. and others to do the same.
William E. Ward
Spring Lake Heights, N.J.
The writer is a clinical psychologist.
To the Editor:
The Catholic Church has a lot to answer for. I have been aware of this scandal since the 1980s, when a priest in my own family was accused, shuffled around to different parishes, sent for rehabilitation and eventually died of AIDS. The lies, cover-up, secrecy and denial were astounding to me then and continue to be a source of great pain in trying to keep my faith.
The church has not even begun to deal with the issue. I don’t consider huge payoffs an answer. The tepid response to this monumental tragedy is in itself a total disgrace. We cannot make up for the ruined lives. But a little honesty and a whole lot of ownership just may be a beginning.
Kathleen Viselli
Export, Pa.