More Than Zero

To many, the announcement Saturday by the Roman Catholic Diocese of Portland that two priests who admitted to sexually abusing minors more than two decades ago have been removed from their Northern Maine parishes and not allowed to serve elsewhere came as a relief. The outcome may have been too harsh, it may have been too lenient, but at least the ordeal was over.

Others felt no such relief. The victims, young boys who trusted their community’s religious leader and who were betrayed, certainly have the right to be outraged that the penalties against their abusers may come to nothing more than being reassigned to other duties. Some parishioners in St. Agatha and Madawaska who wanted the priests to stay are upset that the diocese ignored their wishes. Others are upset that the priests were assigned there in the first place, after their offenses were known by church hierarchy.

What happened in Northern Maine – or, perhaps more accurately, to Northern Maine – is not unique. Virtually the same tragedy of crime, cover-up and agonizingly slow revelation and rectification has been played out in dioceses across the country, Since January, when the case of former Boston priest John Geoghan – 86 victims, more than $15 million in hush money so far – first gained national attention, at least 28 priests among the more than 47,000 nationwide have been suspended, many more past cases and financial settlements have been disclosed. In Pennsylvania, it was divulged that 58 priests have faced credible accusations of abuse over the past 50 years without being prosecuted. In Missouri, two priests who had been accused of abuse years ago finally were removed, payments to settle claims were acknowledged. The Diocese of Albany, N.Y., revealed it had paid hundreds of thousands of dollars to settle child molestation cases in the last 25 years. In Southern California, the sudden, unexplained departure of at least 10 parish priests in the last decade suddenly have been explained.

Now, the Portland Diocese, like all those other dioceses, promises a “zero tolerance” policy on sexual abuse by priests. Allegations of abuse henceforth will be referred to law enforcement, the names of priests accused in the past will be made public if the accusation is credible, no such priest will hold a public ministry. It’s as though the Church has finally figured out what schools, law enforcement and others who deal with the sexual exploitation of children have known for years – pedophiles are deceptive. They often appear to be of the highest character. They often hide behind valuable service to their community. They rarely, if ever, change.

Members of the Church will have to decide for themselves whether this zero tolerance policy is enough. Maine lawmakers, however, must conclude it is not. The state’s law on reporting suspected abuse and neglect requires notification of law-enforcement authorities by a long list of adults when acting in professional capacity – physicians, nurses, EMTs, dentists, psychologists and all other health-care workers, teachers, guidance counselors, camp directors and staff, social workers, court-appointed guardians, housekeepers, home health aides, day-care workers, police and fire personnel, municipal officials, photographic film processors and clergy. The reporting is mandatory, the penalty for failing to report is severe.

There is, however, one exemption. Clergy do not have to report suspected abuse if the suspicion is raised “during confidential communications,” a term without sufficient legal definition. In case after case in state after state (some 30 states have similar laws) this vague wording has, in effect, made the cover-up legal.

The pleas for help by a confused child or the concerns expressed by distraught parents can be buried if the cleric on hand, with no guidelines or review process, deems the conversation confidential, no matter where it takes place or in what circumstances. Several states with this vague clause – including, most recently, Massachusetts – have amended their laws so the exemption applies only during the specifically defined sacrament of confession. Zero tolerance sounds good, but Maine law should be ready in the event the Church again delivers something less.