My Excommunication

Secret Policies Be Damned

To abandon the Roman Catholic Church is not at thing to be undertaken lightly.
Why I have done so — and what it has to do with the clergy abuse crisis.

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Though I left the Roman Catholic Church decades ago, to this day I still consider myself "catholic," culturally, intellectually, and even somewhat spiritually, to the point that I once became ordained as a priest in an Independent Catholic denomination, the Church of Antioch – Malabar Rite, that is not in communion with Rome. Yet I had never officially sundered my ties to the church I was baptized in as a baby. Not even the recovery of horrific memories of sexual and ritualistic abuse at the hands of a priest which became the inspiration for my novel, The Harrowing, could make me take that final step.

This radically changed with the recent discovery of a translation of canonical instructions, Crimen Sollicitationes. Because of this document, I have requested and received a formal, written, signed and sealed excommunication.

Crimen Sollicitationes was quietly approved on March 16, 1962, by the so-called "good pope" John XXIII, revered for bringing together the Second Vatican Council which for better or worse has opened the Church to the light. Issued by the Supreme and Holy Congregation of the Holy Office — now known as the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, and formerly known as the Holy Inquisition — it contains the procedures to be used in the cases of priests accused of soliciting sex while hearing private confessions.

This is not a new problem, but one with which the Church has struggled since confession became a private ritual. Previous attempts to deal with it, including the use of the Inquisition in Spain, Portugal, and elsewhere, may be found here.

Crimes in the confessional

And it is exactly what one would expect from the Inquisition. Everything is spelled out in technical language with rigorous detail and absolutely all testimony is to be kept as a "secret of the Holy Office." Oaths are to be taken from all involved under the pain of automatic excommunication which the Pope alone can forgive. Likewise any person propositioned by a priest in confession who "knowingly" did not denounce that priest to the bishop within a month of the incident, was likewise automatically excommunicated. More on that later.

In the hierarchical tradition that the Church inherited from imperial Rome, the "ordinary" (usually the local bishop) has absolute power in his domain. As judge and jury, it would be up to him and him alone to deliberate over the facts in the case, decide the verdict, and ascertain and impose any penalties. Though he may be assisted by the diocesan "promoter of justice" or prosecutor, various witnesses — including the victim — as well as a defender of the accused and a notary, it would be his show. Not even the accused priest's superiors (if he were a member of an order) could interfere, though they themselves would be free to begin an investigation if they learned of any shenanigans going on.

The confessional itself was always, and remains to this day, the source of the biggest temptations and opportunities for sexually acting-out that celibate clergy would normally face. A private, one-on-one conversation about the deepest and most intimate spiritual issues must always be prone to abuse, and the situation made it even more so.

In the old pre-Vatican II days, the confessional was a very scary place, especially to a child. It was a small closet containing only a kneeler. It was kept dark, pitch black until illuminated by a sudden flood of light when the tiny sliding door to the priest's booth opened. Obscured by a grill and often a thin cloth to hide the identity of the confessor, it was a mysterious encounter that physically emphasized that the holy priest was the source of all authority, light and forgiveness, and the sinful penitent mired in darkness and evil. Though the verbal formula was somewhat rigid, the one confessing was required to be absolutely honest and forthcoming, not only about deeds and occasions, but their thoughts and inmost feelings as well.

In particular, priests were regularly instructed to question married women (as well as unmarried ones) about their sexual behavior to make sure that the only approved form was indulged in (i.e., married, heterosexual vaginal sex, missionary position preferred, no contraception, and the less pleasure the better). The confessors were never to suggest anything or give the ladies any new ideas by their inquiries, but complaints of lascivious clerics contaminating the minds of tender young maidens are of very long standing.

The effect of all this on lifelong celibates can only be imagined. It would be hellish enough to listen to the same long, dull litanies of mundane failings and the self-imposed agonies of over-scrupulous devotees, but the occasional tale of libidinous temptation or wild debauchery must have been particularly hard to bear. It is no wonder that the Vatican felt impelled to issue special instructions to attempt to stem the inevitable abuses.

In the cases of solicitation, convicted priests were to be suspended from saying Mass and hearing confessions, lose all honors and benefices which would supply them with income, and "in the most grievous cases also be subject to the reduction [to the lay state]." Priests in religious orders could be knocked down to the status of lay-brother.

Plus penances could be added, vigilance over relapses prescribed and the offender was usually transferred. Combining solicitation with false teaching and heresy was particularly frowned upon, as was absolving sexual partners. But these procedures were all about the priest — victims were not to be asked whether they consented, but not out of consideration of their feelings, but rather so the inquisition might focus all its attention on the actions of the cleric. This proves that the Church did indeed "get it" — the hierarchy understood all along that clergy sexual abuse as such was based on the difference of power between priest and layperson. But there is nothing in the instructions about how to treat victims beyond absolution, which is another indication of their tender concern.

Secret records of the proceedings were to be diligently kept for the diocesan Secret Archives and copies sent to the Holy Office. So at last the answer to the question of who runs the cover-up has been answered — it was the Inquisition all along. Between the required secrecy to avoid scandal and the regular transference of offenders, the system worked for centuries.

To the crime of solicititation, the document extends the penalties to "the worst crime" as a final afterthought. Though first defined as "any obscene deed, gravely sinful in any perpetrated by a cleric or attempt with a person of his own sex" [sic] it was extended to "youths of either sex or with brute animals," but even so, no greater penalty could be leveled.

Unlike such dire offenses as scattering pieces of the consecrated Host upon the ground or striking the Pope himself, none of these crimes merit excommunication. And indeed, as far as I know, not one, not a single priestly predator has ever been excommunicated for their crimes. No matter how notorious, they may have been laicized under pressure but still only at their own request. Yet laicization only removes the legal right, but not the power or ability, to perform the sacraments. Removing the priestly power, like the "indelible mark on the soul" made by baptism, cannot be done according to Catholic doctrine. "Thou art a priest forever, according to the order of Melchizedek," the ordination ritual proclaims, and the clerics take it seriously.

Not James Porter, not David Holley, not even John Geoghan were ever booted out. Indeed, as revealed in a prison interview, Geoghan, who raped possibly 150 children, believed himself to still be a priest and a faithful Roman Catholic until his murder.

Secrets upon secrets

Apologists for the Church claim that Crimen Sollicitationes is not a "smoking gun" demonstrating a church-wide cover-up of clergy abuse. Rather, they declare that the concern over secrecy is related to the all-important secrecy of the confessional. Further, they say that these laws are only the laws of the Church, that these procedures in no way forbid seeking civil and legal remedies before going to the Church.

A close examination of the document shows that this is somewhat specious reasoning. Special instructions are given in the document on how to deal with situations in the sacramental space so secrets are not revealed. Time and again the need for secrecy is repeated beyond this and the awful penalty of excommunication restated for all concerned.

Catholic laity was taught and expected to honor and obey the priests, and to leave these problems in the hands of the Church. In the decade I have been dealing with these issues, not once have I ever heard of a victim or his/her parents going to the law or even a civil lawyer until the Church proved it was not to be trusted by quietly transferring the offender to another unsuspecting parish. The recent disclosures in Boston of transfers by bishops who knew better are not aberrations but the normal way of treating these problems.

Further, the document itself is secret. There is some question, in fact, if most bishops even knew of it, though canon lawyers certainly did as they continued to discuss its provisions until recently, when it was superceded by new norms. So how the condition of "knowingly failing to report" (Title 1: para. 18) applies, unless the solicited person was a canonist, makes no sense. The word must thus refer to the person's awareness of being solicited and its sinfulness, not to knowledge of the canonical requirements.

Since all was to be kept secret, victims who speak out later give scandal to the Church, and should be thus automatically excommunicated as well. No wonder they have been treated so poorly.

Victims are treated as enemies by the Roman Church because that is how the hierarchy sees them. It will take more than organizational reforms to change this: the entire clerical culture must be changed, and that is anathema.

Moreover, the bishops were required to keep the policy secret as well under the pain of excommunication. So they have lied, and lied, and continue to lie, under the direct orders of the Vatican.

The propagandists are right about one thing — Crimen Sollicitationes is not an extraordinary document. It is merely a restatement of how things have been done for centuries. The Catholic Church has held itself to be above secular law from the beginning. At best, the state existed to serve the Church, never the other way around.

"Benefit of clergy," after all, did not mean a condemned person got to see a priest before execution. In the Middle Ages, it meant that if an accused person could prove he was a cleric, usually by reading the parish's Latin Bible, he would not be tried in a secular court, but turned over to the local bishop, who had the Church's own prisons, the "monasteries of strict observerance" to incarcerate him in.

The greatest punishment that the Church can ever inflict was excommunication. For millennia, the mere threat of it was effective on emperors and kings as well as the simple folk, for it was a sentence of death, often physical as well as spiritual. In the Age of Faith, excommunication not only cut one off from the sole source of sanctity without which there is no salvation, it barred one from all Christian society. Excommunicated persons had no rights; they could hold no office; no allegiance or even assistance was due them. In short, excommunicants were regarded as enemies of the state and outlaws.

My case

Fortunately, the temporal power of the Roman Church has waned somewhat over the centuries. Few outside the hierarchy believe that the Church should be a sovereign, absolute power unto itself any more, though this idea has not penetrated the Roman Curia to any discernible degree. Not even the scandals blossoming around the world have done much to shake the native arrogance of the Eternal City.

As for my abuse, Crimen Sollicitationes, signed the very week my ordeal began at the hands of the Rev. Thomas P. Wilkinson, would doubtless apply. There was solicitation (along with threats and false teaching) in the confessional from the very start.

To say I was utterly shocked and horrified by this document is an understatement. By my interpretation, since I lacked the courage to tell even my poor mother of the full extent of my torment, I thus failed to notify the bishop (in this case, the Most Rev. James P. Davis) and thus have not been a part of the Roman Catholic Church for most of my life!

Granted I was a nine-year-old who had very little understanding of sex at the time it all began. I only knew that Father told me not to tell lest I burn in hell, so an argument could be made that the obligation to denounce did not apply. I knew something was wrong and so I lied to my mom; and because I lied the torment continued, not only for myself but for who knows how many other children.

So ironically, I might not have been a member of the Roman Church for the last four decades, whereas all these monsters were. My perpetrator, who with another clerical accomplice had not hesitated to violate the secrets of the confessional in order to conceal his crimes, had probably been caught at some point and confessed. When he finally died (rumor said of hepatitis B), he was the revered pastor of the oldest parish in the city, and was accompanied by an honor guard of seven priests for his burial in his hometown.

This was too much to be endured. Therefore, I wrote a letter to the current Roman Catholic Archbishop of Santa Fe, the Most Rev. Michael J. Sheehan, outlining the situation and politely asking for a formal excommunication. I even enumerated the offenses I had committed as an adult worthy of censure, and which canons I had trampled. (Indeed, for several decades before and even after my ordination, I played priest in a medieval recreation society, though I have always restrained my worst heretical tendencies.)

To my considerable surprise, His Excellency most graciously granted my request. Here are the relevant portions of his reply:

Your reference to being excommunicated for not denouncing a priest of the delict of solicitation would not count against you because had to have knowledge of the norm of the Church in order for that to apply. However, as I mention there are several matters in your letter that move me to give a positive answer to your request.

Therefore, at your request, I excommunicate you ferendae sententiae from the Catholic Church. I hope this will give you the peace of soul that you request and I know that you are acting in sincere good faith that this is what Our Lord seems to want from you.

Thus, at last, I am out. Free, whatever that means. My reactions have ranged from elation to despair, remembering all too well the threats of hell and damnation. What will come of it in the long run I cannot say. Yet whatever the state of my soul, I take considerable satisfaction that I am no longer any part of an institution claiming to be from God that punishes victims of its clergy far more than it does that clergy.

To me, the Roman Catholic Church stands revealed as no less than the Scarlet Woman, the very Whore of Babylon. She is a wicked mother steeped in two millenia of corruption who deserves neither respect nor obedience. If Jesus came back tomorrow, I believe he would at the very least say, "Come out from her, o my people," before sending the rest to hell.

Does this mean that the entire catholic tradition is worthless? How deep does the disease go? What about Christianity itself?

This I cannot answer yet. My search continues. Meanwhile, I kick the dust from my sandals and continue the journey. The road from this spiritual Sodom is long and perilous; an even worse hell may well await me. But my spirit is free once again, and that must be worth something. And for which, I thank God.

Next: Mysteries Remain in New Mexico

This piece has been expanded and used in my exposé Sons of Perdition