There are facts and truths that "sexual libertarians" don't want society or public opinion to know, that even they don't want to know. To sum up those facts - accumulated in different human cultures and societies - we don't need sex to live a full life and be content. To define one's identity on the basis of our sexuality alone is to reduce our human value and dignity. I am a lot more than just my genitalia, and so are you. G.S.
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My purpose in these posts is to bring together significant and, where possible, representative echoes of our best human efforts to make sense of our lives - and of our human sexuality in particular - also including the voice of Jesus Christ, the one Saviour of the world, and testimonies from his Church, such as through her teaching voice, the Magisterium. The Church has been accumulating much valuable wisdom granted her by Almighty God since her foundation at Pentecost. In this way, wherever there is darkness in our human understanding, it will serve to highlight the bright and radiant truth, which is Jesus Christ: "I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me. If you know me, you will know my Father also." John's Gospel 14:6-7
Father Gilles Surprenant, priest & poustinik
(1) The church must build ‘spiritual ramps’ to sex abuse survivors
(2) 'A long and tortuous road': Catholic brother's guilty plea brings relief for victim, but not closure
The church must build ‘spiritual ramps’ to sex abusesurvivors Lea Karen Kivi May 12, 2017
In recent years, the church has made
great progress opening its doors to people with disabilities. Most churches now
have physical ramps that give people with limited mobility access to the
spiritual nourishment of the church.
But what about the Catholic faithful who
are inhibited from entering the church, not by a physical disability but a
sacramental one? When survivors of sexual abuse by members of the clergy
encounter the symbols of Christianity through which they were abused, they may
experience feelings ranging from severe discomfort to panic attacks. I consider
these “sacramental disabilities.” One young girl, for example, was told by the
priest who sexually abused her that if she ever told anyone about what he did
to her, Jesus would come down from the cross and kill her. One young boy was
sexually molested by a priest at the altar. Unless their trauma is addressed,
survivors like this young boy and girl might never be able to walk through the
doors of the church or participate fully in the sacramental life of the church.
Unless their trauma is addressed, survivors might never be able to walk through the doors of the church.
What might be a charitable response to those suffering from a sacramental disability? Wheelchair ramps help disabled persons enter into a church building. There is a need for spiritual ramps to enable Mother Church to go in the other direction: to come down and seek out those who have been sacramentally disabled, knowing that it is extraordinarily difficult for survivors to speak of their abuse to anyone, let alone ask for sacramental modifications.
The sad reality is that victim-blaming
is likely to be the response of some parishioners to survivors of clergy abuse.
Learning to speak about very sensitive issues in a caring way requires
practice. Some parishes have shown leadership in this regard. The Newman Centre
at the University of Toronto offered discussions about the movie
“Spotlight” to help parishioners and students process their
strong reactions to this movie. St. Anthony’s Shrine in Boston has hosted
several meetings for persons wishing to share with others how they have been
affected by the clergy sexual abuse scandal.
What might be a charitable response to those suffering from a sacramental disability?
Once a parish community breaks the ice with such an event, offering workshops led by qualified healing professionals specifically on how to respond compassionately to survivors of any form of sexual abuse might minimize the risk of survivors being further traumatized by how members of faith communities respond to them. Similarly, inviting survivors of clergy sexual abuse who wish to assist the church in healing and reconciliation efforts to speak of their experiences provides firsthand knowledge of the sensitivities involved. Identifying caring church members willing to bring the love of Mother Church to survivors of clergy abuse would be a good next step. Once such individuals are identified and trained in communicating with traumatized individuals, perhaps in collaboration with a local sexual assault center and psychologists specializing in healing from trauma, engaging in outreach activities could begin.
Compiling a list of referrals to
qualified, competent and survivor-sensitive health professionals, priests,
women religious and spiritual directors in a diocese would be very helpful to
outreach efforts. Because many survivors of abuse have left their parishes,
advertising in local and social media that a parish cares about those wounded
in the church, and offers to help them meet their specific needs, is an
important work in building a spiritual ramp. Then, a parish might provide a way
for a survivor to contact a trained parishioner by telephone or email to be a
listening ear, prayer partner, referral provider or supporter who might agree,
for example, to meet at the church door and sit with the survivor at Mass.
Finally, no matter one’s role in church life, prayers for the healing and reconciliation of clergy abuse survivors with the church constitute the most important nails in the construction of any spiritual ramp.
The media reports of abuse in the church
may have overwhelmed and tired the faithful to the point of not wanting to hear
any more about clergy sexual abuse. But ignoring the cross does not mean that
it is not still there. By embracing this cross, the church has an opportunity
to grow into its full maturity as Mother Church to a hurting world.
Victim and Abuser Insight
'A long and tortuous road': Catholic brother's guilty plea brings relief for victim, but not closure Following the guilty plea of a
Catholic brother who sexually abused a minor at Collège Notre-Dame decades ago,
the victim looks back at his life and what might need to come next.
JESSE FEITH, MONTREAL
GAZETTE More from Jesse Feith,
Montreal Gazette Published on: November 20, 2017 | Last
Updated: November 20, 2017 9:09 AM EST
After waiting seven years for the moment
to come, he was anxious the night before. He kept his phone close and waited for
the prosecutor’s call: surely, as had already happened so many times, there
would be another delay. But the call never came. So the next morning, he woke
early and left for the Montreal courthouse.
He had barely slept and now his brain was racing throughout the hour-long
drive. Was he wasting his time? He had gotten his hopes up before only to have
them dashed by procedural delays and setbacks. Last spring, he was told it
would all be over by September. Now it was November.
It was only once he was sitting in a cubicle at the Montreal courthouse last
Tuesday that he realized the wait was finally over. First, there was a warning:
the man who abused him so many years ago was in the courtroom next to him.
Then, the Crown prosecutor opened the door. “It’s time,” she told the
victim.
On the morning of Nov. 14, Brother Olivain Leblanc, 75, of the Congrégation de
Ste. Croix sat before a judge — his health too poor for him to stand — and
pleaded guilty to one count of gross indecency for sexually abusing a 13-year-old
student at Montreal’s Collège Notre-Dame. The acts, which included oral sex and
sexual touching, occurred repeatedly between 1979 and 1981, it was said.
“It’s been a long and tortuous road,” the victim, a man in his early 50s whose
name is covered under a publication ban, said a few days later, sipping a
coffee while walking along a river.
For decades, he had tried to repress memories of what was done to him. But for
the last seven years — the time that elapsed between his complaint to police
and Leblanc’s guilty plea — he needed to keep them at surface level, knowing he
could be called to testify at any given moment. The stress of it all could be
debilitating.
“I was living in this void with no sense of direction,” he said. “I sacrificed
seven years of my life because I knew what I was getting myself into. I knew,
psychologically, it would be a war of attrition.”
After being expelled from the college during his last year of high school, he
went on to live a solitary lifestyle, struggling to find his footing in life
while dealing with the psychological after-effects. For years he said nothing
of what was done to him. To cope, he would tell himself it didn’t affect him
and wouldn’t stop him from leading a normal life. But it always came back to
haunt him, he said.
“My soul was dead,” he explained. “The flame that lives inside of you and
guides you through life? That’s what was killed.” He continued: “You don’t
live, you survive. You’re always grabbing on to one buoy here, another buoy
there, anything you can hold on to so you can keep your head above water.”
In 1991, he broke his silence and contacted the college’s director about the
abuse. Two years later, he received $250,000 — a significant chunk of which
went toward his legal fees — and was made to sign a confidentiality agreement. In
2010, after learning of other victims who attended the college, he contacted
the police. In early 2013, Leblanc was charged in criminal court. Later the
same year, following many delays, the Congrégation de Ste. Croix finalized a
settlement to hand out $18 million to more than 200 victims from three schools,
including Collège Notre-Dame.
Of all the years since his abuse, he said,
it was the most recent years, filled with uncertainty about the court
proceedings and an urge to get it over with, that were the hardest. Now he’s
focused on what comes next and feels as though he’s on the cusp of a second
life.
About a month before his day in court, he started writing down what he would
say when given the chance to address not only the judge but also Leblanc. He
struggled to find the right words, but knew them by the time he entered the
courtroom last week.
He scanned the room as he opened the door. He saw Leblanc sitting by the aisle.
He couldn’t believe the state he was in. He had aged and gained so much weight,
he thought. He noticed the walker next to him.
During the proceedings, Leblanc apologized to both the victim and the
victim’s deceased mother, who he said he knew.
The emotions the victim felt from then on are difficult to explain, he said.
To him, Leblanc’s apology seemed sincere. For the first time, he said, he felt
he was dealing with an individual and not the congregation.
“I know he’s a seasoned manipulator, but the man I saw there … I felt it.
He was humbled,” he said.
“It might sound strange, but it did me good to see him again,” he added,
pausing to carefully choose his next words.
“For all these years, I had built up this image of him as a monster in my mind.
That leaves a mark on you. It weighs on you. With his apology, he showed me
that in the end, he’s capable of being human. And that’s important to me.”
On his way to the stand, he said Leblanc whispered to him: “It’s OK. Go ahead.”
After being expelled from Collège
Notre-Dame, the victim explained in his statement, he had gone to see Leblanc. If
there was anyone in the school who could help him, he figured, it was him. But
Leblanc told him there was nothing he could do for him.
He never forgot about that moment. And so in court, he repeated it: “Now it’s
my turn to tell him that there’s nothing I can do for him,” he told the judge.
Leblanc was sentenced to 15 months of house arrest, a joint recommendation from
Crown prosecutors and the defence team. He will also be on Canada’s sex
offender registry for 20 years.
There’s one thing left, the victim said, that he knows he needs to do, even
though he’s aware some might not understand it. Religion no longer plays any
role in his life, he said. His faith was stolen from him at the college. But he
still believes in the process of reconciliation.
“I know I will need to forgive him,” he said. “He killed me, but I need to
forgive him, eventually. Maybe after his sentence. I’ll need to do it for
myself. Not for him. As long as I don’t, I won’t be able to let go.”
© 2006-2023 All rights reserved Fr. Gilles Surprenant, Associate Priest of Madonna House Apostolate & Poustinik, Montreal QC
© 2006-2023 Tous droits réservés Abbé Gilles Surprenant, Prêtre Associé de Madonna House Apostolate & Poustinik, Montréal QC
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