Category: Clergy Abuse Crisis

In honor of Father’s Day, the LA Times published an essay by author Mimi Bull. The catch? Her father was a practicing Catholic priest.

No one reading the essay will be satisfied.

Mimi’s mother was forced into a life of secrecy and shame, unable to acknowledge the daughter she loved until Mimi was well into adulthood. Mimi was deprived of a father—only told that he was a priest well after his death, as well as the death of her mother.

And the priest? Well, we don’t know how old Mimi’s mother was from the essay (I have yet to read Mimi’s book). But regardless, whether Mimi’s mother was a minor or an adult, a priest is a man of ultimate power who, in the Catholic tradition, holds the keys to heaven. That’s an exploitive relationship. Mimi’s mother didn’t stand a chance.

The church certainly won’t be satisfied with the publication of this essay. Sure, Mimi’s mother and father kept their secret to the grave. But Mimi is living, breathing evidence of how children are sacrificed to keep up the appearances of the church.

I wish I could say that Mimi’s is an isolated experience. Unfortunately, I know numerous children of priests. Many of these men and women struggle with identity; are rejected, re-victimized, and marginalized by the church; and, often, are the product of child sexual abuse. Some children go on to discover that their priest father had numerous “families” and multiple children with many women.

When you very identity is wrapped in shame, how do you find wholeness and healing?

Bull’s essay is over-edited and simplified for publication. I believe that there was much more that she wanted to say—but this was a Father’s Day piece. There is a lot of love and forgiveness in her text. I am not so forgiving.

Here is my point: When a priest fathers a child, there are no winners. Everyone—especially the innocent child—is hurt. No one escapes damage.

There are support groups globally for children of priests. Even the Vatican has “secret guidelines” on how to address the issue.

If you are the child of a priest, you are not alone. You are not shameful. You are a perfect, beautiful human being. There is help and there are people available who want to listen.

Legislative work can be complicated. Take my word for it. And sometimes the hardest decision to make is the best one: if a law protects predators, it’s not a good law.

That is what happened in Colorado. And Colorado did the right thing.

Yesterday, the sponsors of a potential law to help future victims of child sexual abuse decided to pull the bill. The move caused confusion and disappointment among advocacy groups, but the sponsors knew they had a solid reason.

The pulled bill—Colorado HB 1296—only applied to survivors in the future. That’s called a “prospective” bill. What the bill didn’t do—and what sponsor state Senator Julie Gonzales realized was the essential element—was open the courthouse doors for past victims of abuse.

Why is this so important?

A damning report on the cover-up of sexual abuse in Colorado showed that for decades, Catholic Church officials knew that predator priests were targeting kids and did nothing, lied to parents and communities, or helped foster the abuse.

The Special Masters Report was a bombshell, exposing 70 years of child sexual abuse in the state. Twenty-six new predators were exposed, and another 11 were described, but not named.

In one of the cases, one of the most prolific Colorado predators—Fr. Harold White—wrote to the Denver archbishop while in treatment after abusing his ~25th victim. He told the archbishop he was considering giving up the priesthood. The archbishop, according to the report, “talked him out of it” (Page 133, ix). Instead, the archbishop sent White to Sterling, Colorado, a farming community on the eastern plains. He went on to abuse at least 38 more children throughout his career.

White’s story is horrific. But what is worse is what we DON’T know. We don’t know who the 11 unidentified predator priests in the report are.

We don’t know if there are predators still in ministry.

We don’t know if there were priests, nuns, volunteers, or teachers removed from ministry or jobs for preying on kids, and then sent into YOUR community with a letter of recommendation and a smile.

The only way we can find out—and protect children who are at risk RIGHT NOW—is to allow the victims from yesterday to use the courts to expose predators and cover-up.

The vehicle to do that is called a “civil window,” and Gonzales is pulling her bill until she gets it.

Do civil windows work?

Yes.

Right now (even in the midst of COVID and protests against racial injustice), civil windows are working for victims. New York, New Jersey, Arizona and California currently have active windows, and when the courts are open, dozens of predators (and cover-up) are exposed weekly. Hawaii’s recent civil window exposed dozens and dozens of predators across the state, including at the prestigious Punahou School.

Many of the accused are still priests or religious or teachers or camp counselors or scout leaders, etc., in schools and communities and still active with children. Even if the predator is dead, the system that protected him/her still thrives.

If you don’t expose those who cover-up and foster the evil, is there truly change? If survivors cannot expose the abusers among us right now, how are we keeping children any safer?

A bill that ignores yesterday’s survivors is dangerous and gives a false sense of security to parents and community members. Plus, once a weak bill is passed, legislators seldom, if ever, want to go back and “fix things.”

To expose predators and cover-up, we need to do it right.

Colorado’s lawmakers did the hard—and correct—thing. And next year, we will get the bill that saves children, exposes predators, and stops the cover-up.