| Unless
you've been bunkered up in an Afghan cave the past few weeks, you've heard
that the Roman Catholic Archdiocese of Boston announced a settlement of
up to $30 million to 86 parishioners who, over the years, have been the
victims of childhood sexual abuse by their priests. Meanwhile, all around
the nation more cases of alleged priestly abuse continue to bubble out of
what has become an infected and hemorrhaging wound in the side of Catholicism.
At the epicenter
of the roil sits Bernard Cardinal Law, Archbishop of Boston, who approved
the settlement from the Archdiocese. Despite the financial gloss, Cardinal
Law's apparent and multiple acts of betrayal bring to mind another tale
of duplicity, malice, and loyalty lost that might help make sense of the
situation.
We're told
in all four Gospels that Judas ups and breaks rank with the other 11 disciples
for some priestly pocket change -- 30 pieces of silver, by one account
-- turning on the boss man for reasons left to our imagination. An oft-disregarded
detail of the story explains that Judas is the apostle who "carries
the purse," presumably to keep track of the group's funds. It was
in this purse, I imagine, that Judas carried his 30 pieces of silver.
It takes
no rocket science to notice the divergence of the two stories at hand:
While Judas took 30 pieces of silver, Cardinal Law is giving his 30 (million)
pieces away. Some might consider Law's settlement an act of justice, a
payment of reparation for those so grievously wronged over the years.
Yet, the heart of the comparison of Cardinal Law to Judas Iscariot lies
not in the accounting. The rub is in the betrayal, what is lost in the
exchange.
My imaginary
Judas, serving as apostolic treasurer, certainly has his eye on the bottom
line. His quick peck on the savior's cheek did wonders for his portfolio.
In his mind, the benefits of the 30 pieces outweighed the benefits of
loyalty.
Like my Judas,
the Boston Archdiocese leadership has a keen interest in how the affairs
of late will impact their coffers. The 30 million pieces they'll pay to
the 86 plaintiffs of the civil suit against the diocese makes 86 complaints
go away. In the end, that's 86 times less that the Boston Archdiocese
has to pay in legal fees, court costs, full-page ads, and crisis management.
Like Judas,
the church's bottom line has probably made out for the better. In this
light, the costs and benefits of the situation seem clear, and any M.B.A.
would agree with the prudent financial decision made by the cardinal.
Perhaps, however, there are hidden costs that elude the ledger book.
In the case
of Cardinal Law, the trail of betrayal is hard to mistake. At the surface,
church leaders have betrayed the abused, both in the various and sundry
sex acts and the ensuing obfuscation of its responsibility. All along,
the leaders also deceived their parishioners, those who trusted and depended
on the structure, stillness and spirit of the foundation and faith of
the church.
But the Archdiocese
has also betrayed the very men who abused. Instead of anointing their
heads with the chance for rehabilitation or renewal -- perhaps even relieving
abusive priests of their appointments -- the bishops and cardinals crowned
these impoverished priests with thorns of relocation and secrecy. Nobel
Laureate Isaac Bashevis Singer once wrote, "When you betray somebody
else, you also betray yourself."
Indeed, the
cost of betrayal is a slippery fish to weigh.
In the matrix
of Judas stories, we often forget what happens to the traitor after the
betrayal. For whatever reason, Judas grows a contrite conscience and returns
the 30 pieces to the priests, who then put the money toward buying a plot
of land for pauper's graves. One account tells of Judas then hanging himself
in a bloody conclusion that underscores the disgrace of his betrayal.
In the end, Judas attempts to right his wrong, to undo the betrayal the
only way he knows how. Ultimately, he fails.
Surely, the
tale of Cardinal Law will not have such a dramatic conclusion, though
the full cost of his betrayal has yet to be realized. While the cardinal
cannot -- and should not -- renege on his settlement (a la Judas
returning his blood money), he certainly has the opportunity to invest
in the spiritual poverty of his priests, thereby defraying the ultimate
costs of his betrayal. Certainly, the benefits of priestly rehabilitation,
(re)education and even dismissal can be weighed against the effects
of betrayal, distrust and organizational infidelity.
But, if nothing
changes, then the cardinal will keep the change.
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