It has been awhile, for good reason. I am woman caught on fire. In the last two weeks, the archdiocese I spent more than a decade working for, and the University where I received much of my training, released the lists of priests who have been accused of sexually abusing minors. The pastor of the first parish I worked for was on that list…and some who I have personal knowledge and experience of that should be on it were not. While my relationships with some of these men did not fall within the perimeters of the alleged abuse, it was still abuse. Suffice it to say that the rage I feel is based on countless power struggles during my tenure with the archdiocese that I believe impeded my ability to do the job that I was hired to do, called by God to do, and ultimately became the central reason I walked away from ministry. Given my personality, I always knew that I would have some difficulty working for the Catholic Church. I was an attractive, smart, strong willed, vivacious, intelligent woman. For those of you who think I should also include egotistical and arrogant to the list…yeah well, given all that I sacrificed during those years, believe me, while my list of vices may be many, false humility and lack of objectivity aren’t part of the list. Anyway, what matters is that given who I was and what the church was at that time, I knew the road would never be easy, and I took extra precaution to live a very pure life, to which I never strayed. But I never thought for one minute that I would be immersed in such a deep struggle between the sacred and profane. I can’t even regard them as people anymore at this point, because the manipulation and the mind games were so malevolent that even in the face of knowing rationally that something was way off with whatever situation I faced at the time, often I was the one left feeling like the sinner and they, the saint. I learned to work with blinders on just to survive, but I was too angry so I moved out of parish work to teaching after that, which didn’t turn out much better. The suggestions that perhaps if I dressed more appropriately for my profession, the rumors that went around never would have started. Shortly afterwards I cut off my hair. I’ve included some pictures to prove I didn’t dress like a whore, nor did I dress like a nun either.
I thought long and hard about what details to share, but I don’t think that would serve any purpose other than just more titillating proof of the kind of abuse that occurs in an environment of ultimate power, and fueling even more hatred won’t offer answers, just annihilation. The girl I was at the time wouldn’t like it. She would be embarrassed, humiliated and hurt, and just because she may have not been the typical theologian she deserved the respect she worked hard for. Still, after all this time, I don’t hate the church…I worked with too many wonderful and spiritual people during my time there. I do however hate the path the church has taken, and I can’t walk down that path anymore. For me, I knew I needed help finding clarity…that was what therapy was for, and given that the therapist knew I had never been sexually active at the time, said that I had all the symptoms of someone who was the victim of sexual assault, only on a spiritual level. She helped me see there is a much deeper dimension to the kind of power struggles I faced, and lost. I didn’t appreciate until I read those lists of names what a deep toll being a victim of spiritual, sexual assault took on me. I had many great plans and ideas back then, to manifest the Gospel in new and exciting ways, but I just got worn out and gave up. Meeting my future husband and moving to the woods of Wisconsin saved my sanity, which remains tenuous because I live in crazy town (too many men, too little common sense).
It is my hope and prayer that Pope Francis can not only clean up the mess, but begin to heal the many wounds caused by the hierarchy. But until I see evidence of that change, my faith life remains catholic…with a small “c”.