Triumph of love: The restorative journey of a clerical sexual abuse survivor
We all face darkness along the human road. I have. Our shared Cross pierces. The transformation at Calvary.
Just over a half-century ago, my life was transformed by the untimely and tragic deaths of four men: the Rev. Martin Luther King, Jr., Robert F. Kennedy, Thomas Merton, and Joseph R. Williams.
King, 39, and Kennedy, 42. — assassinated. Merton, 53, a Trappist monk, — electrical accident. Williams, my father, 40, a nuclear veteran exposed to ionizing radiation while in Nevada during the Korean War, — acute leukemia.
Today, I realize how much their lives shaped me. In thinking back, I realize too how vulnerable I was after they died, especially when my father passed. On his last day, I pulled up a stool as he lay in a full protective bubble in the hospital. I had to touch him through a rubber glove which extended from a plastic sleeve. He turned his head and fought to smile. His hollowed eyes reached mine. We were Catholic. I was an altar boy, and I felt like the women at the foot of the Cross, as Jesus hung above them dying. Two hours later, my father died. I had just turned twelve, and I didn’t know that my darkest days were ahead.
A year later, innocence vanished. I was raped by a male teacher. A year after that, I was sexually molested by a Roman Catholic priest, and this clerical abuse continued throughout my high school years. There is no greater pain than shame, to carry this Cross within, to feel less than.
And, there is no statute of limitations on interior pain. One’s core is forever scarred. You simply never forget, nor free yourself completely from the darkness of shame. Put another way, as Fr. Richard Rohr, O.F.M. has written: our journey is about managing our demons, not getting rid of them. It has taken me decades to corral this devil. My relationship with a few prelates — bishops of extraordinary compassion — as well as the opportunity to share my experience, strength and hope with seminarians in formation, has given me a marvelous sense of renewal, and helped to suture my wounds.
Right after the pope’s visit to Chile a few years ago, I wrote Cardinal Sean Patrick O’Malley, O.F.M., Cap., Archbishop of Boston and head of the Pontifical Commission for the Protection of Minors, who came out strongly defending the survivors in Chile — a courageous and rare display of a prelate bucking his boss, the successor to St. Peter. Encouraged, I penned: “As you so rightly implied, survivors must never feel exiled; the abused seek the hope found in the Cross, the joy that comes from being able to embrace and live the gospel. But, going forward, I trust you agree wholeheartedly, our beloved church must continue to discern both deeply, strongly and – when appropriate – take action with those found complicit in any way.”
After an exhaustive investigation led by Archbishop Charles J. Scicluna of Malta, a light shone brightly on the horrid past. If the essence of the church meant being a field hospital, reaching the margins, loving the poor in spirit, as Pope Francis had told his global flock, then there was, at long last, the promise of compassion, understanding, and justice. Soon thereafter, the Pope invited three outspoken Chilean victims to meet with him in his private residence and, with humility, said: “As far as my role, I acknowledge, and ask you to convey faithfully, that I have made grave errors in assessment and perception of the situation, especially as a result of lack of information that was truthful and balanced.”
The wounds of the abused bled truth. Francis, able to change, sent a message of mercy to survivors, not only in Chile, but throughout heaven and earth. As Dr. King said, “The time is always right to do what is right.” And, as Cardinal O’Malley wrote me soon after, “Thank you so much for taking the time to write me with your words of comfort and support. Often, I shared in my homilies about the Stations of the Cross my personal comfort in the Fifth Station where Simon of Cyrene came to carry the Cross with Jesus. I am sure his help and presence were very comforting to Our Lord during His Passion journey. The prayers and spiritual support of people like you are just as comforting to me as Simon of Cyrene was to Our Lord Jesus Christ. For that, I am very grateful.”
Closer to home, in our own Archdiocese of Newark, a former prelate, Theodore McCarrick, strayed. As our new Archbishop, Cardinal Joseph W. Tobin, C.Ss.R., a champion for victims, aptly put it, “We know we cannot proceed with healing until we have acknowledged the suffering and cleansed the deep wounds from the past. We are now realizing that some bishops did not enter into the covenant we call the Charter for the Protection of Children and Young People wholeheartedly. This is sinful and unacceptable. It has caused irreparable harm to every priest’s and bishop’s relationship with the faithful. Only acts of restorative justice can help us reform and renew our deeply wounded Church.”
As part of this restorative journey, Cardinal Tobin asked me to speak at a prayer gathering for victims of clerical sexual abuse at the Cathedral Basilica of the Sacred Heart a few years ago. Before I delivered my talk, I ran it by my friend, Fr. James Martin, S.J., for feedback. Jim, as always, was so encouraging, and responded: “excellent, praying for you.”
That evening, Our Lord and Redeemer guided me. Part of what I said was:
“Pope Francis calls us to be a missionary people, to go out to the margins, to shape a renewed community of believers. We can no longer ignore the collective voice of the abused. The church ought to help these troubled men – the predators – in their weakness, but not at the expense of the faithful. We must live the Good News. We must realize, as I have, that the truth does set you free. It is only by forgiving my abuser that I found inner peace. I have not forgotten. I never will. This is a watershed moment in our beloved yet broken church. There is no time more pressing in the life of the Roman Catholic church for all to weep. Bishops must weep, including the bishop of Rome. Roman Catholics will not continue to embrace a hierarchical church if those appointed to lead us do not encourage healing, including offering forgiveness — but not exoneration — to abusive priests and bishops, including those who acted to cover up the sins. The abused need to be part of a healer church, lifted by the revelation of Jesus Christ outside the tomb. The healing power of the Cross needs to shine through the apse of every church on earth and into the hearts of all seeking Christ. Wounds can heal. New beginnings are possible with God’s mercy.”
Not too long after my talk, Cardinal Tobin asked me to address the seminarians at Immaculate Conception Seminary on the campus of Seton Hall University, South Orange, New Jersey — the place where Theodore McCarrick had groomed several young men. I had the full support of the rector, Monsignor Joseph Reilly, and coordinated my visit with Professor Patrick Manning, chair, Department of Pastoral Theology and fellow parishioner of Church of the Little Flower, Berkeley Heights, N.J. When I arrived there, I sensed a palpable cloud over the room where I spoke. “The ghost of McCarrick,” I thought to myself. I remembered the words of encouragement from my pastor, Fr. Andy Prachar: “ keep discerning to find added voice for brokenness, to heal in Christ … all at Little Flower are here for you.”
I shared my victimhood and went on to speak to these mostly young men in formation about the teachings of Fr. Hans Zollner, S.J., President of the Center for Child Protection at the Gregorian University in Rome, member of the Pontifical Commission for the Protection of Minors, Pope Francis’ point person on the scandal across the global church, and former seminary professor. Hans was quite outspoken about the fact that – out of the four pillars of seminary training (Human, Spiritual, Intellectual and Pastoral formation) – the emphasis on the human journey was still shockingly lacking in the majority of seminaries throughout the world.
With this in mind, I concentrated on the human element of sexuality and opined:
“Sexual violation of a person, male or female, especially a child who is developing emotionally, physically, and sexually, naturally affects normal growth. This manipulation, fueled by clericalism and a lack of the abuser’s own sexual maturity, is troubling and underscores a void of normal intimacy. It is, simply, wrong.”
I sensed relief in their faces. These young men simply wanted to live Christ, and wanted to hear the best possible way to deal with the aftermath of the scandal, including in the seminary where they were learning to go out into the deep amongst the faithful. I said to them:
“Listen to victims, never judge, simply listen and try to identify with their pain, their touching the raw wood of the Cross in their lives. If you do this, you will be accepted as priest, a brother who cares and who loves, and remember what Carl Jung said… ‘I am not what happened to me, I am what I choose to become’…”
The exchange that ensued was engaging. I believe the church will be fortunate to have them serve. In his prophetic wisdom, Cardinal Tobin had known that simply sharing my experience, strength and hope with the soon-to-be ordained would enhance their growth in the midst of such an historic time in the life of the church. I felt humbled by their genuine interest.
Some months later I received a beautiful letter from Sr. Joan Chittister, O.S.B., acclaimed Benedictine spiritual writer. I had sent Joan a copy of my talk at the Cathedral before the Covid-19 pandemic swept the planet. She wrote:
“Mark, your presentation before Cardinal Tobin touched me very deeply. I believe it is the only piece I’ve read through all of this that had as much feeling for the perpetrators as for the victims. And with such balance. Indeed, forgiveness but not exoneration, neither for them nor for the bishops who chose the institution over the children and the families. It has been a harrowing time for many in their attempt to deal with both. I wish you great peace and thank you for the work you’re doing at all levels: within the soul of the church, its victims, and its perpetrators who themselves needed help to rebuild their own lives somewhere else.”
On April 2, 2021, in this age of Covid, I found such peace to return in person to the Cathedral for Good Friday and be socially distant with fellow pilgrims of faith. Last year, I was profoundly humbled to take part reading the Passion in an empty Basilica. That liturgy, live streamed only because of the surging pandemic was eerily moving, such awe in silence, the late afternoon light brighter in the emptiness, the stark language of our Lord’s death chilling. As the Jewish theologian Abraham Joshua Heschel wrote how we meet God in our lives: “Awe is more than an emotion; it is a way of understanding. Awe is itself an act of insight into a meaning greater than ourselves. Awe enables us to perceive in the world intimations of the divine, to sense in small things the beginning of infinite significance, to sense the ultimate in the common and the simple.”
Cardinal Tobin’s Good Friday homily struck a chord. He told a story about visiting a parish in the archdiocese during Holy Week soon after coming to Newark, recalling how a woman confronted him after the liturgy and said: “Does God forgive those bad bishops and priests?” The Cardinal said to her, “I don’t know”… turned to the Cross nearby, pointed, simply saying, “Look at the Cross, is there possibility in mercy, is there forgiveness?”
The Cardinal continued his homily: “Crucifixion is such a horrible death… in the time of the Romans reserved for foreigners and slaves… the ultimate degrading of someone, not a noble death, not a decent burial… flesh left for vultures to consume. Yet, Jesus’ body was taken down…we know why… the Messiah for us. The blood of Jesus is victory, freedom from shame, the conquering of human sin, malice, the power of God, the triumph of love.”
As Merton wrote, “Our world without storms and our lives without agony would give us nothing to grow on. Make us glad for stormy weather.”
The pilgrimage for all brothers and sisters in Christ continues. Each new day is renewal. The Cross offers forgiveness and the path to forgive. For me, I know there is hope for the abused in the One outside the Tomb.
The true triumph is His love. Alleluia.
Mark Joseph Williams, who serves as special advisor to Cardinal Joseph W. Tobin and the Archdiocese of Newark, is a forensic social worker and management consultant; Mark and his wife, Karen, have four grown children and five grandchildren and are parishioners at Church of the Little Flower, Berkeley Heights, New Jersey.
Mark will be speaking at the upcoming virtual global symposium, ‘Faith and Flourishing: Strategies for Preventing and Healing Child Sexual Abuse’, sponsored by Harvard University, Harvard Divinity School and The Catholic University of America, April 8 – 10, 2021; his talk: “Shame Lifted in Forgiveness” is in support of April 8th World Day for Child Sexual Abuse Prevention, Healing and Justice; he will also be featured in a documentary for this event: ‘Walk with Me’ – Mark can be reached at mjwwill@aol.com.
