Sr. Danielle Victoria and I have been reading some of Dorothy Day’s Advent reflections. Dorothy is one of the women who inspires our charism and mission. We mention her in our statutes, or rule of life, writing: “Dorothy welcomed Christ so profoundly in her life that her hospitality extended from creative service to the poor to searching for ways to reform and redeem the societal structures that create and maintain poverty.”
The reason why Dorothy is one of our patrons becomes clearer to us over time.
Months ago, a journalist who was interested in our mission asked to meet with Sr. Danielle and I because he had been involved in movements against spiritual abuse in the Buddhist community. We appreciate conversations like these with people outside of Catholic circles because it helps us to think creatively. And in this case it helped us to understand how spiritual abuse plays out in other religious communities. (In short, a different context with many of the same patterns.)
During our conversation, this journalist said something challenging that has remained with me and echoed in my mind over the past months. He asked, “Do you think that one of the dangers of doing what you are doing as religious sisters is that instead of preventing abuse, you might become nursemaids of abusers—giving a good face to the Church while you go around cleaning up after the mess so to speak.” Some might have been offended by his question but I was pleased that someone would be this frank with us. We need people in our lives who ask these kinds of questions. And Sr. Danielle and I immediately understood fundamentally what our journalist friend was asking, “Will your work address root problems?”
One reason we understood this journalist’s concern is because of Dorothy Day. Core to her thought and spirituality was the importance of not only addressing symptoms of poverty but in also exploring the systemic reality as to why poverty exists in certain contexts. In other words, Day recognized that not all sin is individual—it also can be systemic or structural. Dorothy herself applied this way of thinking to the Church, observing that systemic changes were needed not only in broader society but within the Church. When asked why there was a vocations crisis, Dorothy responded, “I think it’s a result of the corruption in the institutional Church, through money and through their acceptance of this lousy, rotten system.” Of course, Dorothy was referring to the need for different systemic changes but her general idea of the need for ecclesial structural reform makes sense applied to our work as well.
I thought of Day’s ideas recently when I read the first ever annual report from the Pontifical Commission for the Protection of Minors. Considering the history of abuse prevention in the Church, the document is, in many ways, a triumph. There’s no denying that it represents real progress in systematically addressing safeguarding issues in the Church. At the same time, as I read the document, I noted how often the report mentions the need for transparency; the word is used fifteen times in the document. I felt some discomfort though every time I read the word “transparency” in the document and as I reflected I realized why.
Anyone following the comings and goings of the Commission will have noted the departure of several members, including that of Marie Collins, an abuse survivor who stated that she had concerns regarding “resistance” within the Vatican to the Commission's work. The most recent departure, Fr. Hans Zollner, SJ, an expert in Safeguarding and the Director of the program we are attending at the Gregorian, cited concerns of “responsibility, compliance, accountability, and transparency.” Zollner made clear that his concerns were not just general but about the inner workings of the Commission itself, pointing to “insufficient information and vague communication” as well as a lack of financial transparency within the Commission.
To be clear, I cannot imagine what it must be like to work toward the goal of safeguarding within the stifling bureaucracy of the Vatican. But I also can’t help but wonder how the Commission expects the words of their new report to have credibility with its readers if it does not first do the work to model the same transparency it desires the Roman Curia, religious orders, and local dioceses, among others, to exercise.
Thankfully, our life and our mission as Sisters of the Little Way sets us outside, to some degree, of these complicated, frustrating ecclesial realities. But we are not immune to the tension that anyone who does the work of safeguarding in the Church feels—if he or she is doing it from a place of conscience and not formalized duty. After all, we have chosen to exercise this mission as religious sisters, a choice that depends on the support of a bishop. And we are currently studying Safeguarding in the shadow of the Vatican. We consciously have made the choice to do this work within the heart of the Church, knowing that it will involve greater tension, risk, and sacrifice—if we choose to do our mission with integrity.
Of course, we also experience the tension of living “transparency” and we understand that choosing what to be transparent about is a delicate balance. But if we have learned anything in our first two years, we have learned that one requirement of doing our mission with integrity will always involve being willing to lose everything to do what is right. For this reason, as we embarked on this mission, we chose to share our own experiences with an abusive spiritual director despite the fact that this would be a risk. We knew that some might see our experiences as a liability but, in conscience, we made the decision to speak for the safety of others.
In line with the concerns of our journalist friend, our hope is that we will continue to choose not to compromise and to live this mission in transparency, prudence, and courage. As we move forward, Dorothy Day’s spirituality reminds us that any movement toward positive change in the Church must also transparently recognize and ask questions about systemic realities.
Why, how, and in what contexts does abuse exist in the Church?
Beyond eliminating a few “bad apples,” the reform needed in the Church calls us to something deeper. This deeper movement involves every member of the Church. Together, we believe that God is calling us to identify and address aspects, both in ourselves and in our contexts, that facilitate or prevent abuse.
Lots to think about and wrestle with here.
I think part (though not all) of the reason that people (well...conservative leaning people, which I primarily identify as) are so resistant to talk of reformation and change in structures in the Church is that there's also currently a push to change Church teaching itself, especially as regards sexuality.
That's not the type of change that's needed, of course. But I have found the people most willing to talk about changing the systems in the church to stop abuse are those who are also more open/sympathetic to (if not outright pushing for) changes in Church teaching. More conservative people seem to be more likely to take the "bad apple" philosophy and believe it's more a question of just getting the "right" people into place.
It's a scary and frustrating thing to be in-between those two realities. I do believe systematic change needs to happen, but I also understand the fear of those changes being taken advantage of and confusing the truth (which I think is a separate issue from figuring out how to effectively and compassionately preach the gospel to those who feel alienated by those truths, but I digress).
I've honestly just spent an awful lot of time feeling deeply confused and lost about the whole thing, and trying to just focus on the people in front of me (and hoping I don't mess that up, one way or the other).
(And then there's those who don't want to change things because it's inconvenient or they're benefitting from the current system in some way...don't really have much sympathy for that, though I recognize facing that can take some courage).
This is an institutional problem, regardless of where it happens: religious, military, educational. What about an invitation for recovery that begins in FORMATION... bringing all our brokenness out of isolation into the Light of God. If it's not talked about from the outset, it's already too late. So many need recovery but are afraid to let others know... I love my recovery and have seen so many, even former abusers, find it.