Nuns in India tell AP of enduring abuse in Catholic church
By TIM SULLIVAN Associated Press


KURAVILANGAD, India (AP) — The stories spill out in the sitting rooms of Catholic convents, where portraits of Jesus keep watch and fans spin quietly overhead. They spill out in church meeting halls bathed in fluorescent lights, and over cups of cheap instant coffee in convent kitchens. Always, the stories come haltingly, quietly. Sometimes, the nuns speak at little more than a whisper.
Across India, the nuns talk of priests who pushed into their bedrooms and of priests who pressured them to turn close friendships into sex. They talk about being groped and kissed, of hands pressed against them by men they were raised to believe were representatives of Jesus Christ.
“He was drunk,” said one nun, beginning her story. “You don’t know how to say no,” said another.
At its most grim, the nuns speak of repeated rapes, and of a Catholic hierarchy that did little to protect them.
The Vatican has long been aware of nuns sexually abused by priests and bishops in Asia, Europe, South America and Africa, but it has done very little to stop it, The Associated Press reported last year.
Now, the AP has investigated the situation in a single country — India — and uncovered a decades-long history of nuns enduring sexual abuse from within the church. Nuns described in detail the sexual pressure they endured from priests, and nearly two dozen other people — nuns, former nuns and priests, and others — said they had direct knowledge of such incidents.
Still, the scale of the problem in India remains unclear, cloaked by a powerful culture of silence. Many nuns believe abuse is commonplace, insisting most sisters can at least tell of fending off a priest’s sexual advances. Some believe it is rare. Almost none, though, talk about it readily, and most speak only on the condition they not be identified.
But this summer, one Indian nun forced the issue into the open.
When repeated complaints to church officials brought no response, the 44-year-old nun filed a police complaint against the bishop who oversees her religious order, accusing him of raping her 13 times over two years. Soon after, a group of her fellow nuns launched a two-week public protest in India’s Catholic heartland, demanding the bishop’s arrest.
It was an unprecedented action, dividing India’s Catholic community. Inside the accuser’s convent in rural Kerala state, she and the nuns who support her are now pariahs, isolated from the other sisters, many of whom insist the bishop is innocent. The protesting nuns get hate mail and avoid going out.
“Some people are accusing us of working against the church, of being against the church. They say, ‘You are worshipping Satan,’” said one supporter, Sister Josephine Villoonnickal. “But we need to stand up for the truth.”
Villoonnickal has been a nun for 23 years, joining when she was a teenager. She scoffs at the idea that she wants to harm the church.
“We want to die as sisters,” she said.


Some nuns’ accounts date back decades — like that of the sister, barely out of her teens, who was teaching in a Catholic school in the early 1990s.
It was exhausting work, and she was looking forward to the chance to reflect on what had led her — happily — to convent life.
“We have kind of a retreat before we renew our vows,” she said, sitting in the painfully neat sitting room of her big-city convent, where doilies cover most every surface, chairs are lined up in rows and the blare of horns drifts in through open windows. “We take one week off and we go for prayers and silence.”
She had traveled to a New Delhi retreat center, a collection of concrete buildings where she gathered with other young nuns. A priest was there to lead the sisters in reflection.
The nun, who like others interviewed for this story spoke on condition she not be identified, is a strong and forceful woman who has spent years working with India’s poor and dispossessed, from battered wives to evicted families.
But when she talks about the retreat her voice grows quiet, as if she’s afraid to be overheard in the empty room: “I felt this person, maybe he had some thoughts, some attraction.”
He was in his 60s. She was four decades younger.
One night, the priest went to a neighborhood party. He came back late, after 9:30 p.m., and knocked at her room.
″‘I need to meet you,’” he said when she cracked open the door, insisting he wanted to discuss her spiritual life. She could smell the alcohol.
“You’re not stable. I’m not ready to meet you,” she told him.
But the priest forced open the door. He tried to kiss her. He grabbed at her body, groping wherever he could.
Weeping, she pushed him back enough to slam the door and lock it.
It wasn’t rape. She knows it could have been so much worse. But decades later she still reels at the memory, and this tough woman, for a few moments, looks like a scared young girl: “It was such a terrifying experience.”
Afterward she quietly told her mother superior, who allowed her to avoid other meetings with the priest. She also wrote an anonymous letter to church officials, which she thinks may have led to the priest being re-assigned.
But nothing was said aloud. There were no public reprimands, no warnings to the many nuns the priest would work with through his long career.
She was too afraid to challenge him openly.
“I couldn’t imagine taking that stand. It was too scary,” she said. “For me it was risking my own vocation.”
So the fierce nun remained silent.
Catholic history is filled with women who became martyrs to their own purity: Saint Agatha had her breasts torn off for refusing to marry; Saint Lucy was burned alive and stabbed in the throat for defending her virginity; Saint Maria Goretti was 11 years old when she was killed by a man who tried to rape her.
“It is a sin!” Maria is said to have cried out. “God does not want it!”
But for a nun, fighting off a priest’s advances means pinballing through centuries-old sexual and clerical traditions. Celibacy is a cornerstone of Catholic religious life, as is sexual purity among nuns. Many nuns say a sister who admits to a sexual experience — even if it’s forced — faces the risk of isolation within her order, and possibly even expulsion.
“You’re not sure if you’ll be kept in your congregation, because so much is about your vow of chastity,” said Sister Shalini Mulackal, a New Delhi-based theologian. “That fear is there for the young ones to disclose what has happened to them.”
At the same time, priests are seen as living representatives of Christ, with obedience to them another Catholic cornerstone.
Then there is the isolation of young women struggling to find their way in new communities after leaving their homes.
Caught at this intersection of sexual taboo, Catholic hierarchy and loneliness, sisters can be left at the mercy of predatory priests.

“There’s a lot of emotion bottled up and when a little tenderness is shown by somebody it can be so easy for you to cross boundaries,” said Sister Dorothy Fernandes, who has spent years working with the urban poor in eastern India. “It can be hard to tell what is love and what is exploitation.”
It’s particularly hard for sisters from Kerala, a deeply conservative region long the birthplace of most Indian nuns. Sex is rarely mentioned openly in small-town Kerala, boys and girls are largely kept apart, and a visible bra strap can be a minor crisis for a young woman.
“Once you grow up, once you get your first menstruation, you are not encouraged to speak normally to a boy. And the boys also vice-versa,” said a nun from Kerala, a cheerful woman with sparkly glass earrings and an easy smile. She remembers the misery of Sunday mass as an adolescent, when boys would stand outside the church to watch girls filing in, eyes crawling over their young figures. “We have a terrible taboo about sex.”
That naivety, she said, can be costly.
Like the time she was a novice nun, still in her teens, and an older priest came to the Catholic center where she worked. He was from Goa, a coastal region and former Portuguese colony.
She shook her head: “I was in charge of visitors, and we had this bad habit of being hospitable.”
At one point, she brought the priest’s laundry to his small room, where he was sitting. As she set down the clothes, he grabbed her and began to kiss her.
At first, she had no idea what was happening.
“The kissing was all coming here,” she said, gesturing at her chest.
The confusion of that day is still clear on her face: “I was young. He was from Goa. I am from Kerala. In my mind I was trying to figure out: ‘Is this the way that Goans kiss?’”
She quickly understood what was happening but couldn’t escape his fierce grip. She also could not call out for help: “I cannot shout! He’s a priest.”
“I didn’t want to offend him. I didn’t want to make him feel bad,” she said.
So she pushed herself away from him until she could slip out the door.
She quietly told a senior nun to not send novices to the priest’s room. But, like the nun who fought the drunken priest, she made no official complaint.
A complaint against a priest means leveling an accusation against someone higher in the church hierarchy. It can mean getting pulled into a tangle of malicious rumors and church politics. It means risking your reputation, and the reputation of your order.
In the church, even some of those who doubt there is widespread abuse of nuns say the silence can be enveloping.
Archbishop Kuriakose Bharanikulangara, a New Delhi-based church leader, calls incidents of abuse “kind of sporadic. Once here, once there.”
But “many people don’t want to talk,” he continued. “They may talk in the community, but they don’t want to bring it to the public, to the court.”
Speaking up can also risk financial troubles, since many congregations of nuns are financially subservient to priests and bishops.
The silence is magnified in India by demographics, religious politics and a deep-seated belief that women have little value.
There are roughly 18 million Catholics in India, but that’s a small minority in this largely Hindu nation of 1.3 billion. Speaking up could tarnish the image of their church, many nuns worry, and feed criticism by Hindu hardliners.
“Even we, as religious sisters, even we try to keep it quiet,” said Mulackal, the theologian. “A woman who goes through this experience, she just wants to hide it and pretend everything is OK.”
The rapes, the nun says, happened in Room 20 of a small convent at the end of a one-lane road in rural Kerala.
Set amid rows of banana and rubber trees near the little town of Kuravilangad, the sisters at the St. Francis Mission Home spend their days in prayer or caring for the aged. In the garden, a statue of the Virgin Mary overlooks a decorative fish pond the size of a child’s wading pool. The pond is covered in green scum.
The rapist, she says, was the most powerful man in this tiny small world: Bishop Franco Mulakkal.


Smart and ambitious, Mulakkal had risen from small-town Kerala to become a bishop in north India, overseeing a sprawling Catholic community. He was also the official patron of her community of 81 sisters, the Missionaries of Jesus, wielding immense influence over its budgets and job assignments.
The nun is a friendly woman with jet black hair known for her quiet confidence. Every few months, she says, Mulakkal would visit the St. Francis convent and summon her. Then, according to a letter she wrote to church officials, he raped her.
The letter says the first rape happened on May 5, 2014. The last time was Sept. 23, 2016. The dates are recorded in the convent’s visitor logs.
Mulakkal angrily denies the accusations, telling reporters the charges were “baseless and concocted” and accusing the sister of trying to blackmail him into giving her a better job.
“I am going through painful agony,” said Mulakkal, who was jailed for three weeks and released on bail in October. “I tell everyone to pray to God: Let the truth prevail.”
Catholicism envelopes this part of Kerala. Towns are marked by their cathedrals, convents and roadside shrines, where the Virgin watches passing traffic or St. George slays the dragon. Businesses proclaim their owners’ faith: St. Mary’s Furniture and Bed Center; Ave Maria Electronics; Jesus Oil Industries.
Around here, many see Mulakkal as a martyr.
A string of supporters visited him in jail, and crowds greeted him when he returned home, a ring of policemen holding back people who showered him with flower petals. “Hearty Welcome!” a banner proclaimed.
But at the St. Francis convent, one group of nuns watched news reports about that welcome with dismay. While the sister leveling the accusations against Mulakkal does not speak publicly, a half-dozen nuns cluster around her, offering support and speaking on her behalf.
“Nobody came to see sister, but so many people came to wait in line to meet Bishop Franco in jail,” said Villoonnickal, the nun, who moved back to Kerala to support the woman she calls “our survivor sister.”
That sister was the second of five children in a Kerala family. Her father was in the army. Her mother died when she was in high school. Wracked with grief, she was sent to stay with a cousin – a priest – living in north India. Inspired by her time with him, she became a nun in 1994, working in her early years as a teacher.
She knew Mulakkal, of course. Everyone in the Missionaries of Jesus knows him. But the two were never close, the accuser’s friends say, and had no consensual sexual relationship.
It was about fear.
“The bishop is such a powerful person and standing against him, where will she go?” asked Villoonnickal. “If she went home what will happen to her?”
“Many times she was telling him to stop. But each time he was forcing himself on her,” she continued.
Eventually, they say, she told some sisters what was happening. Then she says she repeatedly complained to church authorities. When nothing happened, she went to the police.
She also went to confession.
There, according to the other nuns, she was told she had to resist the bishop.
″‘Even if you have to die, don’t submit yourself.’” the priest told her in confession, according to Villoonnickal. ”‘Be courageous.’”
Catholic authorities have said little about the case, with India’s Catholic Bishops’ Conference saying in an October statement that it has no jurisdiction over individual bishops, and that the investigation and court case, which could take many years, must run their course.
“Silence should in no way be construed as siding with either of the two parties,” the group said. “We request prayers for the Church at this difficult time.”
In Malayalam, the language of Kerala, sisters who leave the convent are sometimes marked as “Madhilu Chadi” — Wall Jumpers. It’s a mocking term for the sexually frustrated and is often used for nuns and priests who have fled religious life.
Those who stay get respect. They have communities that embrace them. Their lives have direction, purpose. Those who leave often find themselves adrift in India, searching for new identities and spurned by families and friends. The events that knit families together — weddings, funerals, reunions — are suddenly off-limits. The emotional toll can be immense
Speaking up about the church’s troubles, many nuns say, could end with them forced from their convents, cut off in many ways from what they’ve always known.
“It’s a fear of being isolated if I speak the truth,” said the nun who fought off the drunken priest. “If you do that, you have to go against your own community, your own religious superiors.”
The result is an engulfing silence. Silence is the armor that sisters use to protect themselves and the lives they have created, even if it also means struggling with their memories, and protecting the men who abused them.
In the end, most say nothing.
“I didn’t tell anybody,” said the nun who escaped the priest kissing her chest, and who waited many years to talk about what had happened to her. “So you understand how these things are covered up.”


Here is another appalling scandal in the RC Church – the longstanding rape of nuns – especially in missionary countries – by bishops and priests.

These rapes were all crimes.

The bishops and priests who did the raping were and are criminals.

And all these rapes – perhaps at this stage – hundreds of thousands – were all covered by the hierarchies in these countries and by the Vatican.

This week the Vatican gave its permission for women to have hysterectomies in very particular cases.

Who does the Vatican think it is – to tell all women everywhere that they, the RC Church have control over every aspect of their bodies.

Thankfully most women don’t listen to them any more.

The RC Church consists of some 1.3 billion people who are at least nominally Catholic.

This institution must be the most criminal institution in history.

We can only begin to imagine how many crimes – murder, rape, robbery etc that members of this institution have committed in the past 1700 years.

If we are not going to ban this institution from our nations – we must at least appoint independent law enforcement bodies to monitor their every action.




Vatican Knew About Legionary Founder Maciel’s Abuse From 1943
The head of the Vatican’s dicastery for religious life blames ‘a mafia’ for the cover-up, adding those responsible ‘were not the Church.’
Edward Pentin
Cardinal João Bráz de Aviz, the prefect of the Congregation for Institutes of Consecrated Life and Societies of Apostolic Life, has disclosed that the Vatican had documents on the abusive conduct of the disgraced founder of the Legionaries of Christ, Father Marcial Maciel, from as long ago as 1943.
The Brazilian cardinal told the Spanish Catholic online magazine Vida Nueva that “those who covered it up were a mafia, they were not the Church.”
Cardinal Bráz de Aviz did not give any more details about the documents in the interview, given while he was in Madrid for a conference late last year, but said his congregation currently has “nothing to do” with such a coverup and now follows “a very good process.”
According to a 2006 article in the Spanish newspaper El Pais, Rome investigated Father Maciel for suspected pedophilia between 1956 and 1959 on the instructions of Cardinal Alfredo Ottaviani — 13 years after the first reports referred to by Cardinal Braz de Aviz.


During those four years, Father Maciel was suspended as superior general of the Legion and expelled from Rome, but the investigation yielded no results and he soon returned to his old ways but with more power.
Father Maciel, who died in 2008, founded the Legionaries of Christ in 1941 but an apostolic visitation of the order was undertaken in 2009 after it emerged he had led a double life of having fathered three children with two mistresses, sexually abused minors, seminarians and even his own children, and embezzled funds. Some of the allegations dated back to the 1940s.
The Mexican-born priest had managed to continue his abuse unchecked in large part because of an institutional and cultish reverence for the Legion’s superiors that he himself had fostered.
Father Maciel was often feted by the Vatican, including meetings with Pope St. John Paul II (who knew “absolutely nothing” of Maciel’s abuse, according to Cardinal Stanislaw Dziwisz), until Benedict XVI removed him from active ministry in 2006.
The Legionaries of Christ, and its lay movement Regnum Christi, have since been restructured with revised constitutions, most notably dispensing with a vow that forbade criticism of superiors. In November, the Vatican approved a new constitution for Regnum Christi, allowing it to be established as a society of apostolic life of pontifical right.


Immediate Response
In his recent interview, Cardinal Bráz de Aviz insisted the Church must immediately respond to abuse allegations. “We must be attentive to the victims and not the perpetrators, this is what the Pope asks of us,” the Brazilian cardinal said. “The pain of those who suffer from these abuses is enormous and we cannot let it go. We cannot cover it up.”
Speaking generally about the abuse crisis, the cardinal said: “I have the impression that allegations of abuse will grow, because we are only at the beginning. We’ve been covering up for 70 years, and this has been a huge mistake.”
He predicted “a small Church,” but also a “more correct” one, might be the consequence of this “difficult time” for the Church. He also said the current crisis “shows that many things in the past were wrong.” He spoke against the lies of the past, and said that “to my generation, no one spoke to us about sexuality.” This issue, he said, needs to be re-examined in formation.
Cardinal Bráz de Aviz’s comments come as the Vatican prepares a major summit of bishops on the “protection of minors and vulnerable adults” against clergy sexual abuse, to be held at the Vatican, Feb. 21-24.



So many cardinals and bishops have said that they did not know child abuse was a crime until recently!


This is proven by today’s piece that the Vatican was investigating Maciel in 1943 – 76 years ago!

The truth is that they kept it hidden because they wanted to protect “their own”.

And in Maciel’s case, he was allowed to continuing raping children by the Vatican because of the multi millions of dollars he regularly gave to the Vatican.

Maciel also have JOHN POLE millions of dollars to send to his friends in Poland.

Making John Pole a saint was an infinite slap in the face to the victims of Maciel and others.

John Pole was and is no saint.

He was an RC mafia don and an enabler of child rape.

How can he even be in heaven?







I am the sort of man the Catholic Church says shouldn’t be a priest.


I experience what the Vatican calls “deep-seated homosexual tendencies,” which, according to the Church, make me an unsuitable candidate for the priesthood. The 2005 Vatican instruction on the question of homosexuality and the priesthood states this clearly: “The Church, while profoundly respecting the persons in question, cannot admit to the seminary or to holy orders those who practise homosexuality, present deep-seated homosexual tendencies or support the so-called ‘gay culture.’” This teaching wasn’t new. In 1961, the Vatican declared that men with homosexual inclinations couldn’t be ordained. Seminarians who “sinned gravely against the sixth commandment with a person of the same or opposite sex” were to be “dismissed immediately.”
I take no offense at this teaching. In fact, I agree with it. I’m convinced that if the Church had heeded its own counsel from 1961 and 2005, we wouldn’t be reeling from the shocking headlines of today: “St. John’s Seminary Shakeup Amid Probe Into Sexual Misconduct”; “Victims recount sexual abuse horrors in Chilean seminary”; “Honduran Seminarians Allege Widespread Homosexual Misconduct”; “Vatican cops bust drug-fueled gay orgy at home of cardinal’s aide”; “Man Says Cardinal McCarrick, His ‘Uncle Ted,’ Sexually Abused Him.” Most of the horrific abuse detailed in the Pennsylvania Grand Jury report involved adolescent boys and young men. This isn’t pedophilia.
What unites all of these scandals is homosexuality in our seminaries and the priesthood: the result of the Church ignoring its own clear directives. If it is serious about ending the sex scandals, the Church needs to admit it has a homosexual priest problem and stop ordaining men with deep-seated homosexual tendencies. The first “Uncle Ted” scandal was “Uncle Ted” becoming a priest.
I broach the subject with trepidation. I am convinced that most homosexual priests are good and holy men. One example of many I know is a priest who serves as a hospital chaplain. He regularly accompanies families through the pain of physical trauma, illness, and the death of loved ones. He has a special charism for men dying with AIDS, which I’m certain comes from his love for others with deep-seated homosexual tendencies like him. He has helped many of them reconcile with Christ before death.
So I agree with Bishop Barron’s warning about the dangers of scapegoating people who share my attraction to men. But recognizing the overwhelming role that homosexuality has played in so many of our past and present scandals is not scapegoating. It’s the Church confronting the truth.
Archbishop Charles Chaput, commenting on the 2005 document, wrote, “While persistent homosexual tendencies never preclude personal holiness—homosexuals and heterosexuals have the same Christian call to chastity, according to their state of life—they do make the vocation of effective priestly service that much more difficult.” From my personal experience, I believe there are many reasons why this is the case, but here I will focus only on two, directly connected with unchastity.
The first reason is that men with homosexual tendencies find it particularly difficult to live out the demands of chastity. The vast majority of scandals in the Church since 2002 involve homosexual priests profoundly failing in chastity. This is no surprise to me. Chastity, I’m convinced (and the evidence bears this out), is much harder for men with a homosexual inclination than for others.


Fr. James Lloyd, C.S.P., a priest with a PhD in psychology from NYU, has worked with homosexual men (including priests) for more than 30 years as a clinical psychologist. On the subject of chastity and homosexual priests, he says, “It is clear enough from clinical evidence that the psychic energy needed to contain homosexual drives is far greater than that needed by the straying heterosexual.”
Like many same-sex attracted men, I have at times compulsively engaged in risky anonymous behavior with other men. If I had been a priest, my sin would have been compounded by committing a horrible abuse against someone for whom I should have been a spiritual father. Fr. Lloyd’s insight is invaluable here: “The compulsion dimension attendant upon the SSA [same-sex attracted] personality cannot be ignored. Too long has the Church turned away as if nothing were happening. We can no longer blink at the obvious … Whenever there is a doubt about any candidate for the priesthood, the doubt must be resolved in favor of the Church!” If the Church wants to avoid sex scandals, it must stop ordaining the sorts of men who have the hardest time remaining chaste.
The second problem is directly connected with the first. If a priest isn’t abiding by the Church’s teaching in his own life, he won’t teach his parishioners to follow a teaching he doesn’t believe applies to him. Thus, a grave problem with homosexual priests is the high number of them who don’t agree with the Church’s teaching on sexual morality and covertly (or overtly) undermine this teaching, both in the pulpit and in the confessional.
A story from my own journey in chastity is instructive. Soon after re-entering the Church in 2009, I sinned by having an anonymous sexual encounter with a man. Filled with remorse, I went to confession the next day, and shockingly, the priest (a stranger to me) told me that having sex with a man wasn’t sinful. Instead, he urged me to go find a boyfriend, saying, “the Church will change.” Later, when I discussed this priest with those who knew him, I was told it was widely acknowledged that this priest was homosexual himself. In his 1991 book Gay Priests, Dr. James Wolf interviewed 101 priests. All of them said they disagreed with Church teaching on sexual morality; only 9 percent of them said they would tell a layman like me to refrain from having sex with a man. Those men should never have been ordained.
I readily acknowledge that the priests I describe above do not reflect all homosexual priests. The 2005 Vatican document does make an exception for those who may have had a “transitory” homosexuality—men who were able to overcome the grave wounds of same-sex temptations through counseling, hard work, prayer, and honest self-reflection, and thus are good candidates for the priesthood. Yet I think these men are rare.
Because the sex scandals of the Church are overwhelmingly homosexual, the Church can no longer risk ordaining men with homosexual inclinations in the hopes that those inclinations turn out to be transitory. The Church needs mature men, confident in their identity and ready to be spiritual fathers. I love the Church, but I’m not the sort of man the Church needs as a priest. The Norms for Priestly Ordination, published in 1993 by the USCCB, reveal this to me: “In order to talk about a person as mature, his sexual instinct must have overcome two immature tendencies, narcissism and homosexuality, and must have arrived at heterosexuality.”
What would the American Church look like today if our bishops had taken seriously the directives of 1961, 1993, and 2005? We can’t answer that question, but we can look to our future, and listen to the words of Pope Francis about admitting homosexual men to seminary: “If you have even the slightest doubt, it’s better not to let them enter.” Let us pray that the bishops here in America and around the world heed his wise counsel.
Daniel C. Mattson is the author of Why I Don’t Call Myself Gay: How I Reclaimed My Sexual Reality and Found Peace.


The above article is certainly challenging.

But it is not my approach to the subject.

I believe that Roman Catholicism has got it very wrong on the whole area of human sexuality – and homosexuality in particular.

I expressed my full views on this area in a book I published called A SEXUAL LIFE – A SPIRITUAL LIFE which is available on Amazon and Kindle.


I do not believe in the RC requirement for celibacy among all its priests. I think that celibacy should be optional.

However, as long as the RC Church requires celibacy men who want to be sexually active, in any way should not join the priesthood and lead double lives and lives that are lies.

To me this is spiritual and religious schizophrenia.

And all kinds of schizophrenia lead to various forms of neurosis and psychosis.

We see this set out in the lives of the Maynooth Gang – unbridled sex, assault, rape etc.

Most of us have some neurosis but many priests are psychotics.

Men who want to be sexually active and want to be priests should avoid the RC Church completely by either joining other churches or by becoming independent priests and ministers.

I have been an independent priest and bishop for 33 years this year – and when I went independent I discovered the freedom of sons and daughters of God.

Within the institution I was an oppressed and repressed prisoner.

As Christians we do believe in chastity – but chastity and the teachings of the RC Church are not the same thing.

We are all entitled to enjoy our sexuality but we are not allowed to use our sexuality in ways that are about the using or abusing of others.

We should use our sexuality in ways that make us – and others – better people.

And of course there is nothing wrong with pleasure.








A.W. Richard Sipe (1932-2018) was devoted full time to research into the sexual and celibate practices of Roman Catholic bishops and priests. That path led him to the study of the sexual teaching of the church and its effects on behavior – especially sexual abuse of minors by clergy – and the tangle of sexual problems that some people claim are blocking every religious agenda and destroying beyond repair the credibility of the Catholic Church in sexual matters. He had spent his life searching for the origins, meanings, and dynamics of religious celibacy. His six books including his now classic A Secret World and Celibacy in Crisis explore various aspects of the questions about the pattern and practice of religious celibacy. He spent 18 years serving the Church as a Benedictine monk and Catholic priest. In those capacities he was trained to deal with the mental health problems of priests. He and Marianne had been married since 1970 and have one son, Walter. Both as a priest and married man he practiced psychotherapy, taught on the faculties of Major Catholic Seminaries and colleges, lectured in medical schools, and served as a consultant and expert witness in both civil and criminal cases involving the sexual abuse of minors by Catholic priests.
The Sipe’s own spirituality has deep roots. Sipe was born Walter Richard Sipe on Dec. 11, 1932, in Robbinsdale, Minn., a farming town of 5000 within the shadow of Minneapolis. He had an upbringing that he joked could have been a chapter of a Sinclair Lewis novel: The dominant values were Republicanism and pro-business; life centered around school and the church; and Main Street was two blocks long and full of stores. Sipe’s father owned several gas stations.
The family was devoutly Catholic, and Sipe admired the enthusiastic young monks who came down to do parish work from St. John’s Abbey in Collegeville, 80 miles away. “I was pious, I was intellectually inclined, I think I needed community support,” Sipe said. “You know, if you’re one of 10 kids, how do you make your mark?”
Sipe had no professional sympathy for the cardinals and bishops and other ranking church officials who cover up their crimes. “Some of them are so terrible,” Sipe said. “I mean the plain lying that I’ve seen, bishop after bishop saying, ‘No, this was never true. I don’t know anything. I can’t remember anything.’ And sometimes the bishop just smiles. One bishop said, ‘I only lie when I have to.’ ”
A.W. RICHARD SIPE was a Certified Clinical Mental Health Counselor who earlier spent 18 years as a Benedictine monk and priest. He was trained specifically to deal with the mental health problems of Roman Catholic Priests. In the process of training and therapy, he conducted a 25-year ethnographic study of the celibate/sexual behavior of that population. His study, published in 1990, is now considered a classic. Sipe is known internationally and had participated in 12 documentaries on celibacy and priest sexual abuse aired by HBO, BBC, and other networks in the United States, United Kingdom, and France. He had been widely interviewed by media including CNN, ABC, NBC, CNBC, the New York Times, the Los Angeles Times, People magazine, Newsweek and USA Today. Sipe lived with his wife, Marianne, in La Jolla, CA.



Amy Martin in Armagh has used the PSNI to stop James Luke McConnell from going to Mass in any parish in the archdiocese of Armagh.


In his Bail Conditions Luke is not allowed:

  1. To go on to any property owned by the RC Church.
  2. Not allowed to approach and priest – not even for the Last Rites.
  3. Not to approach his parish priest Father Sean Moore.
  4. Not allowed to approach any Church staff.

This comes after Luke’s longstanding campaign against Armagh over the sexual abuse of a relative of Luke’s.

bail letter

The actual complaint was made to the police by Father Sean Moore




By: midnightmurphy

After the strenuous Christmas festivities, I decided to have a cultural day before heading back to the Big Smog. My plan was simple – to visit the Jewish Cemetery of Limerick. I had heard about this place’s existence. I knew that it was located close to the University of Limerick. The precise location was a mystery to me. During my ill spent university days, I had never sought it out. Now, almost quarter of a century later it was time.
When it comes to Jewish people, my hometown has a shameful past. In the 1871 census the Jewish population of Limerick had doubled from the previous 1861 census. It now comprised of two people. Over the following thirty years the population expanded as some Jewish folk from Lithuania fleeing persecution came to Limerick. By 1900 the population was almost 200 people. Then in 1904 some catholic bishop declared that they were unwelcome in Limerick as they were doing the devil’s work.


Their businesses were boycotted, and their properties vandalised. The boycott may have lasted only a few years, but by 1930 the Jewish population had reduced. After World War 2 the Jewish population of Ireland (approximately 5000 people) left Ireland in large numbers for Israel. They’d not suffered in Ireland as they had on the mainland during the horrors of World War 2, but I guess they wanted a home with their own people. The Jewish Graveyard in Limerick fell into dereliction. Until 1990 when Limerick Civic Trust restored the cemetery.





One Maynooth person has resolved not to visit the Boiler House gay sauna in 2019

One Maynooth person has resolved to remove the Daddyhunt app from his mobile.

One Maynooth person has promised not to send any other seminarian’s Grindr profile to the president.

One Maynooth person has resolved not to visit his mistress in the West of Ireland during 2019.

One young priest has resolved not to again invite Chris Derwin, Georgeous, Horney Andy, Mark Moriarty and Rory Coyle to his parties.

One Maynooth person has decided to sell his villa in the nude resort of Cap di Agde and give the money to Brother Kevin for the homeless.

One Maynooth person has resolved to come clean about rape.

One Maynooth person has resolved not to return to the Sauna Babylonia in 2019.

One Maynooth person has resolved to end their relationship with a music student.

One Maynooth person has resolved to give up altar sex.

One Maynooth person has resolved not to visit Paris every month in 2019.




By historian Gareth Russell. (2010)

The Fethard-on-Sea Boycott: Ireland, 1957

Fethard on Sea

Irish journalist Tim Fanning published his new book in 2010 –  The Fethard-on-Sea Boycott about a notorious sectarian dispute in Ireland in the late 1950s, concerning a Catholic father, his Protestant wife and their two young daughters. The events were previously dramatised in the controversial movie A Love Divided (1999) and Mr. Fanning’s well-reviewed book has re-ignited interest in the scandal which rocked Ireland – north and south – half a century ago. Having had the book recommended to me, I did some research into the original case and the story of the boycott is truly a fascinating one.

On a wet Saturday morning of April 1957 in the southern Irish town of Fethard-on-Sea in County Wexford, some local people spotted the family car of their neighbour, Sheila Cloney (30), accidentally backing into her own gatepost, before speeding off out of the town. In the back of the car were Mrs. Cloney’s two daughters – Eileen (6) and Mary (3). Their journey was the 176 miles to the Irish border with Northern Ireland.

When Sheila’s farmer husband, Seán, returned from work that evening, he was confused as to his wife and daughters’ whereabouts: he called over to Sheila’s parents, who lived nearby, but they had not seen her. Then, he visited her siblings, who also lived in the town – but, again, they had no idea where Sheila was and assumed that she had been at home with the children all day. Eventually, Seán reported Sheila, Eileen and Mary as missing to the Garda Síochona (the Irish police) and a search was started for the missing Cloneys.

At the age of thirty, there was nothing about Sheila Cloney that would have led anyone to think she would cause a scandal by fleeing her hometown without telling her husband or her parents. Like her husband Seán, Sheila had been born in Fethard-on-Sea, the daughter of a local cattle dealer and his wife. Along with the rest of her family, Sheila was raised as a member of Fethard-on-Sea’s small Protestant community – attending the local Church of Ireland, until she moved to Britain in her early 20s, finding work as a domestic servant in London shortly after the Second World War.

It was in London that she met her future husband, Seán Cloney, another inhabitant of Fethard-on-Sea, who had grown up on a farm one mile from Sheila’s and who had been over in England attending the funeral of an ex-pat relative in Suffolk. Hearing that a girl from back home was living nearby, Seán did as good Irish boys are supposed to and made the effort to go and call on her. Seán and Sheila began courting and fell in love, but because he was Catholic and she was Protestant, they decided to keep their budding relationship secret from their families back home in Ireland. When news leaked that Seán was “going” with a Protestant girl, his parish priest, Father William Stafford, retaliated by banning him from any of the Catholic recreational societies in the town – beginning by expelling Seán from the Catholic amateur dramatic society (the only society he had requested to join.) Deciding that if this was as bad as it was going to get they could probably learn to cope, Seán and Sheila were married in a civil ceremony at a registry office in London on October 8th 1949.

But Ireland being Ireland meant that news travelled fast and two months into their marriage, another parish priest was dispatched to track down the young couple and talk to them about the role Catholicism should play in their marriage. On the issue of converting to her husband’s faith, Sheila Cloney refused point-blank. Seeing that there would be no persuading her about joining the Catholic faith herself, the priest then asked if she would at least consider marrying Seán in a second ceremony – this time, a Catholic one – for the sake of her husband’s family back home. Sheila was reluctant even at this request, namely because doing so would require her to sign the Church’s Ne Temere decree, by which she promised to raise any children from the marriage as Roman Catholics, but Seán apparently assured her that even if she did sign the Ne Temere, any children they had together would have as much a Protestant upbringing as a Catholic one and when they reached maturity, they could decide for themselves which denomination to attend. Sheila signed, the Nuptial Mass was celebrated and, a few months later, Seán and Sheila Cloney returned to Fethard-on-Sea to live together as man and wife.

The problems in their marriage began a year later with the birth of their eldest daughter, Eileen. With Sheila still lying in recovery from the birth, the nuns who worked in the nursing home immediately took baby Eileen away to receive a Catholic baptism. Sheila was angry at this, although apparently accepted that the nuns had probably been doing it with the best intentions in the world and had been unaware of Mrs. Cloney’s wishes on the matter. However, just to be sure, when she became pregnant again the following year, Sheila specifically requested that any child she had would not immediately be baptised a Catholic. A second daughter, Mary, was born in 1953 and, again, this time deliberating ignoring the mother’s wishes, the nuns took the child away to be christened by the local priest.

When it came to Catholicism, Sheila Cloney’s back was now well and truly up and she was worried over the fact that her husband Seán had not prevented the nuns in taking both of their daughters for baptism at the maternity home, despite his earlier promises about the children’s religious upbringing. Between the baptism and the children beginning school, the issue simmered but as their eldest daughter, Eileen, reached the age of five, it once again reared its head – with a vengeance. Sheila feared that if Eileen was sent to the local Catholic school, all chances of her being able to make up her own mind when she was older would be gone, since on top of receiving a Catholic baptism, she would also receive a Catholic education, which would entail going through First Holy Communion and Confirmation, as part of the school ethos. On the surface at least, Seán Cloney agreed with his wife that this would be a step too far and for a few months, they debated what exactly to do about Eileen’s education. Aside from the religious issue, Sheila Cloney was also in favour of home schooling for children and she wanted this system of education for her children.

Throughout the spring of 1957 – the months immediately preceding Sheila’s escape to Northern Ireland – Catholic priests became regular visitors to the Cloney household, pleading reason and then applying pressure on the couple to send Eileen to the local Catholic National School. Finally, one day, Father Laurence Allen visited and it was right after his visit that Sheila Cloney took the decision to leave Fethard-on-Sea. It was also during Father Allen’s visit, I think, that she finally realised she did not have the support of her husband Seán, because at some unknown point Seán Cloney had changed his mind. Seán now agreed with Father Stafford and Father Allen and felt that Eileen should be sent to the National School.

Armed with this bombshell, Father Allen called to the Cloney house in the morning and Sheila offered him a cup of tea in the kitchen. With the obligatory pleasantries out of the way, Father Allen told her that given the fact that Catholicism was the official State Religion of the Irish Republic, Eileen was going to the local Catholic school and that was that – there was absolutely nothing Sheila could do about it. The State would back the Church every step of the way, especially since her husband would now offer no opposition to the idea. And with that, he got up and left, assuming the matter was finally settled. A few hours later, Sheila sped out of her driveway, with Eileen and Mary in the back seat.

Crossing the border on April 27th 1957, and reaching Belfast a few hours later, Sheila Cloney immediately contacted associates of the Reverend Ian Paisley, knowing that she could be certain of their support. She was right: the Free Presbyterian Church, zealous in hatred of all things Catholic or “Papist,” provided Mrs. Cloney with money, accommodation and tickets for her and her two children to emigrate to Scotland, where a new place to live had been prepared for them at the church’s expense. In the meantime, a heartbroken Seán Cloney, discovering what his wife had done, attempted to get his children back through the courts – however, given that Sheila had removed them to the United Kingdom, it was presenting a legal quagmire, especially since the Northern Irish Courts were taking enormous pleasure in being as difficult as possible in retaliation for the Republic refusing to allow the RUC (Royal Ulster Constabulary – the Northern Irish police service) to arrest republican trouble-makers once they crossed the border into the South.

Whilst Seán Cloney wept, the local clergy in Fethard-on-Sea had apparently still failed to realise that honey catches more flies than vinegar. On May 12th, Father William Stafford – who a decade earlier had banned Seán from the Catholic am dram society for marrying a Prod – let fly at Sunday Mass. Before the entire Catholic population of Fethard-on-Sea, he denounced Sheila Cloney for robbing her children of their chosen Faith and their father. Then, in an astonishingly vicious and unfounded move, he accused the Protestant community of Fethard-on-Sea of having secretly provided the funds for Sheila and the girls to run off to Northern Ireland. In retaliation, Father Stafford announced that it was now up to the Catholics of Fethard-on-Sea to exert pressure on the missing Mrs. Cloney by punishing those who had helped her escape – they were to boycott every Protestant business and every Protestant person in Fethard-on-Sea, until Sheila, Eileen and Mary returned.

The next day, the majority of Catholics in Fethard-on-Sea stopped going to the two local shops owned by Protestants. On Wednesday, the local Anglican school was forced to close when their only teacher (a Catholic) walked out. An elderly music teacher living alone in Fethard-on-Sea lost her dozen pupils (all Catholics), Catholic labourers told local Protestant farmers they could no longer work for them, and Catholics refused to buy milk from the local Protestant dairy farmers. The only Catholics who continued to buy from their Protestant neighbours, ironically, were the old retired IRA members, who had fallen out with the Church during the Irish Civil War. One octogenarian ex-IRA member took to following Father Stafford around after parish hall meetings, shaking his walking stick at him and lambasting him for his lack of patriotism – after all, the Prods were Irish too.

Within weeks, the Fethard-on-Sea boycott became a scandal in Ireland, on both sides of the border. Donations from Northern Ireland flooded in to Fethard-on-Sea to relieve the economic plight of the boycotted Protestants in the village and, to the horror of Irish patriots, their charity prompted John Percy Phair, the Protestant Bishop of Ossory, to write a public letter to The Belfast Telegraph, referring to Unionists as Irish Protestantism’s “friends in the North.” In subsequent sermons, Bishop Phair segued from praising the North to lambasting mixed marriages, citing the case of the Cloneys to prove that no Protestant could ever expect to be treated as an equal if they married a Catholic.

Unlike the Church of Ireland, the Catholic hierarchy in the Republic was initially quiet, both on the subject of Mrs. Cloney’s flight and Father Stafford’s boycott. The silence ended a month later, at a High Mass celebrated by the Bishop of Galway. Speaking from the altar, the Bishop said, “There seems to be a concerted campaign to entice or kidnap Catholic children and deprive them of their Faith. Non-Catholics, with one or two honourable exceptions, do not protest against the crime of conspiring to steal the children of a Catholic father, but they try to make political capital when a Catholic people make a peaceful and moderate protest.”

Eamon de Valera

However, despite his eloquence, the Bishop of Galway had badly misjudged the mood of the nation – outside of Fethard-on-Sea, the vast majority of Irish Catholics were disgusted by the boycott and embarrassed that financial assistance was coming to their compatriots from “The Black North” rather than from within. Most important of all the people who felt this way was Ireland’s leader, the Taoiseach Eamon de Valera(left), who condemned the Bishop of Galway’s speech and the boycott as “ill-conceived, ill-considered and futile.” In a speech to the Dáil Éireann (the Irish House of Representatives) on July 4th, De Valera begged people to consider what impact the Fethard-on-Sea boycott would have on Ireland’s reputation abroad.

Eight days later, on July 12th, De Valera was proved right, but far closer to home than he had ever expected. Astonishingly, the Taoiseach never seemed to question what the reaction would be in Ulster about the Fethard-on-Sea incident and he once again failed to appreciate the deep-rooted fears and prejudices of the vast majority of those who lived in “the Six Counties.” Had he been under any illusions before, however, De Valera and the entire South were woken up with a rude shock on the Twelfth of July, the high holiday of the Orange Order (below.)

Fethard on Sea2

The entire mood on the Twelfth that year was marked by thundering fury at the treatment of the Protestants in Fethard-on-Sea. Leading the attack was Lord Brookeborough, the aristocratic Prime Minister of Northern Ireland, who, in a fierce, venomous speech warned every Protestant in the country to look at the case of Fethard-on-Sea and realise what the fate of every single last one of them would be if Northern Ireland was ever swallowed-up into an all-Ireland Republic: every Protestant on the island would be bullied, intimidated and controlled by a Catholicism that was now less a religion and more an over-bearing, over-privileged arm of the State. It was perfectly possible for Roman Catholics in Northern Ireland to send their children to Roman Catholic schools of their own choice, but just look at what the flip side of the coin was for Protestants in the Republic of Ireland! As the Prime Minister reached the climax of his speech, he proclaimed that it would be the fate of every Protestant to become a second-class citizen if the unification of Ireland was ever brought to pass and for the first time since 1912, the cry went up from thousands of throats: “Ulster says No! Ulster says No!”

Prime Minister Lord Brookeborough, himself a life-long vicious anti-Catholic, had hit a nerve – not just with most Northern Irish Protestants, but also (unintentionally) with numerous wealthy and middle-class Catholics in the North as well. The Irish Republic was now being depicted in Northern Irish newspapers as not just economically backward (which was how it had always been presented before anyway), but also as culturally degenerate and morally spineless – a feudal, Pope-addled nightmare compared to the economic boom of Northern Ireland. Taoiseach De Valera’s plea that the Fethard-on-Sea boycott could do nothing but harm to Éire had come true to a degree that understandably horrified Irish nationalists north and south of the border.

With events spiralling out of control, a deal was organised to bring to an end the débâcle in Fethard-on-Sea, at the insistence of De Valera. The negotiations were chaired by Jim Ryan, the Irish Republic’s Minister for Finance, in his house in Dublin. By September, a solution had been reached, and one of the local priests entered a Protestant-owned newsagency in Fethard-on-Sea and bought a packet of cigarettes, signifying to the parishioners that the boycott was over.

Through the cruelty and stupidity of the boycott, including a crisis of diplomatic relations and the rising tide of sectarian tensions, Seán and Sheila Cloney, who had unwittingly started the whole thing, kept a low profile. Within weeks, it was no longer really about either of them, anyway. Instead, they had worked on saving their marriage. Shortly after Christmas, Sheila left her new house in Scotland and on New Year’s Eve 1957, she and her two daughters returned to the family home in Wexford.

In the years to come, Seán and Sheila were far more united as a couple than they seem to have been before. Eileen and Mary were home-schooled, as their mother had wished, as was their sister Hazel, born a few years after Sheila and Seán’s reunion. Seán Cloney remained a devout Roman Catholic his entire life, but in later years he began to compile a dossier on the activities of a local priest, Father Sean Fortune, who Cloney suspected had molested up to as many as seventy young people.


Despite being paralysed from the neck down after a terrible road accident in 1995, Seán Cloney continued in his attempts to expose Father Fortune’s sexual and financial misdeeds. Father Fortune eventually left the area, before being arrested and committing suicide whilst awaiting trial – a few weeks before Seán Cloney’s own death, at his family home in Fethard-on-Sea. And thus – in one of those fantastically curious coincidences that history loves – this unassuming, quiet Catholic farmer stood at the centre of two of the great catastrophes to rock Irish Catholicism in the 20th century and yet never lost his faith in the religion he believed in all the days of his life.


Seán and Sheila’s middle daughter, Mary, who was three at the time of her mother’s temporary migration to Northern Ireland, died in 1998, at the young age of 44, following liver failure. In the same year, the Catholic Bishop of Ferns issued a formal apology for the Church’s role in creating the Fethard-on-Sea boycott of 1957. Eleven years later, on June 28th 2009, ten years after her husband, Sheila Cloney was buried in a quiet ceremony out of Saint Mogue’s Church of Ireland Church in Fethard-on-Sea. The two other Cloney girls – Eileen and Hazel – still live in the area.

Writing of her death The Belfast Telegraph said, “She will be remembered by many for standing up to clerical bullies and raising her children as she saw fit.” Tim Fanning, the journalist, suggested that: “In some small way, the boycott marked the waning influence of the Catholic Church in the Republic. The bishops themselves recognised that they had failed to win over public opinion.” Whatever the truth of the matter (and the case continues to provoke debate) – whether one thinks Sheila Cloney was right to take a stand or that her husband and her community’s wishes were just as valid as hers, that she was unfairly bullied by the local authorities or that she knew what she had gotten herself in for by signing the Ne Temere in the first place, that Northern Irish Unionists were capitalising to the point of tasteless gloating on a national humiliation in the Republic or that they were simply offering assistance to a stricken community when no-one else would, or whether one thinks (as many do), that Sheila Cloney’s domestic dispute and the issue of the church-ordered boycott are actually two very different issues – the story of Sheila Cloney and one community’s crisis in the summer of 1957 is undeniably a fascinating window into an ugly and often unexplored era in Irish history.


Sorry for the long blog today. I just wanted people to really realise how the RC Church behaved in Ireland in the past.

The story speaks for itself.



JD Flynn/CNA 29 December, 2018

James Grein speaks at the Silence Stops Now rally in Baltimore, November 13, 2018.

A man who says he was serially sexually abused by Archbishop Theodore McCarrick testified Thursday as part of a Vatican investigation regarding the archbishop’s history of sexual abuse and misconduct.


James Grein testified on December 27 in a canonical deposition conducted by officials of the Archdiocese of New York, the Washington Post has reported.
Grein’s attorney, Patrick Noaker, told CNA that the New York officials were acting as “auditors,” or delegates of the Holy See, adding that Grein was told that his testimony was part of an administrative process at the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, the Vatican office charged with investigating and adjudicating charges of clerical sexual abuse.
Grein claims that McCarrick, who was a family friend, began abusing him in the late 1970s, when he was 11 years old and McCarrick was in his late 30s and a priest of the Archdiocese of New York.
In July, Grein told the New York Times that the abuse continued for the next 18 years, he said, during which time McCarrick was consecrated a bishop and served as auxiliary bishop of New York, and diocesan bishop of Metuchen and then Newark.
Grein’s testimony this week alleged that McCarrick repeatedly groped and assualted him during confession, his lawyer said. Grein also testified that McCarrick sexually assualted him in a car, later telling the boy’s mother that Grein had spilled a soda, in order to explain a mess in the car.
In November 2000, McCarrick was appointed Archbishop of Washington, where he served until his 2006 retirement. In 2001, he was elevated to the College of Cardinals. About a week after Grein’s allegation was published in the New York Times, McCarrick resigned from the College of Cardinals.
Noaker told CNA that the Archdiocese of New York invited Grein to make a statement for the Vatican about one month ago. The lawyer said he got a call last week asking that Grein testify as soon possible.
The lawyer said that he was told the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith is considering trying McCarrick for three canonical crimes the archbishop could have committed while abusing Grein: the broad prohibition in canon 1395 §1 prohibiting “persisting with scandal in..[an] external sin against the sixth commandment;” the specific prohibition in canon 1395 §2 prohibiting sexual abuse against a minor; and the crime of solicitation of a penitent in the confessional, established in canon 1387.
A trial or administrative penal process pertaining to those crimes could lead to McCarrick’s laicization. Noaker said he was told that that the “Vatican wants this finalized by the second week of February- the entire case” against McCarrick.


In June, it was announced that a New York review board had found charges that McCarrick had abused another youth to be “credible and substantiated.” While additional allegations of coercive and abusive sexual behavior were subsequently made against the archbishop, he was until now expected to face canonical charges only in the initial case of abuse.
Grein’s testimony suggests that the archbishop could now be canonically tried for abusing multiple victims.
A spokesman for the Archdiocese of New York told CNA that he was unable to provide details on how Grein’s testimony might fit into Vatican procedures against McCarrick. This was “not an archdiocese of New York process,” Joe Zwilling told CNA. “This is a Vatican process.”
Noaker told CNA the abuse McCarrick is alleged to have committed during the sacrament of confession has had profound effect on Grein.
“McCarrick integrated the abuse into the sacrament,” Noaker said, alleging that McCarrick would molest Grein’s genitals while discussing the virtue of chastity. “That really hurt James.”
“This case illuminated for me how damaging it is for someone to be as vulnerable as they are when they come into confession and then to be sexually manipulated during that sacrament.”
The lawyer said that testifying against McCarrick has been difficult for Grein. When Grein recounted a particularly troubling incident, Noaker said, “he closed his eyes, and you could see him going back to that moment, and it was especially gruesome sexual assault, and it was upsetting just to be there.”
“He came out pretty worn out.”
“He has been so courageous, to go back to these moments,” Noaker said.
While many victims take pains to avoid addressing their sexual abuse, he said, Grein has approached the matter head on.
“Turning around and running at it is not without its pains.” Noaker added. “He did it knowingly and willingly, but not happily.”
Grein has filed a claim in a victims’ assistance program, the Independent Reconciliation and Compensation Program of the Archdiocese of New York, Noaker said, but has not yet received indication of whether he will be offered a financial settlement. Noaker said he expects notification to be forthcoming.
The lawyer said that Grein is most interested in healing from his abuse.
“He really wants his Church back. He just wants to be able to go to Church again, and find peace again, and, you know sure, I’m not sure we’re going to get that for him,” Noaker said.
“He said probably ten times yesterday, ‘I just want my Church back. I would like to have Jesus in my life again.’”


This victim can have Jesus back in his life – especially if he looks for Jesus OUTSIDE the RC institution.

I have Jesus in my life and I stopped being part of that institution 32 years ago.

We have Jesus in our lives through faith, prayer and performing good in His name.


As for McCarrick – Pope Francis has the power to excommunicate him and dismiss him from the priesthood – and canon law says that Francis’ words are final.

In reality McCarrick should be spending the rest of his life in jail.

But even if the RC crowd dismiss him he will be given a comfortable home to live in and more money than he needs. If the institution does not provide it some half witted Catholic pew dweller. with more money than sense will look after him.

Its all about brainwashing.

As Aristotle said – and as the Jesuits practiced: “Give me a boy until he is 7 and I will give you the man”.

The RC Church got most of us when were only 4.







I am so glad that I have lived to see these gangsters having to swallow the bitter medicine the modern Irish are treating them to.

We are fed up to the teeth with these bishops and priests and it now payback time for them for:

  1. Their hijacking of Ireland’s constitution and laws.
  2. Their mafia-like control over schools, hospitals, universities, orphanages and other institutions.
  3. Their domination of our sexuality and private lives.
  4. Their ban on contraception, divorce, remarriage and same sex marriage.
  5. Their selling of orphans to the rich and to the USA and Australia.
  6. Their ill treatment and killing of children in their institutions.
  7. Their burial of poor babies in septic tanks.
  8. Their torture in their gulags of our unmarried mothers.
  9. Their cruel beatings of us in their schools.
  10. Their cruel rejection of our still born babies.
  11. Their fleecing of the poor to make themselves and their organisation wealthy.
  12. Their causing of generations of gay people having to emigrate to England.
  13. Their teachings that made new mothers “unclean” and in need of churching.
  14. Their interrogations of us all in their so called confessionals.



In recent years and decades the Irish people have been rising up against them and this rising is only beginning.

As far as the Iris are concerned these people and their institution is irrelevant at best and dangerous at worst.

Nowadays if Amy & Co say “turn right” the Irish will turn left.

This is not at all a rejection of God and spirituality.

It is a rejection of these “emperors” who are now seen to have no clothes.

It is a rejection of a “religion” that was simply posing as a spirituality.

It is a rejection by a formerly oppressed people who have copped on to their oppressors and given them their marching orders.

There was a time in Ireland when a passing priest would have caused people to go down on their knees. Nowadays, there is a real feeling of contempt when a priest is spotted. 

And the likes of Eamon Martin are now telling their dwindling followers not to obey the laws that go against their religion. 

Once they imposed their Roman law on us.

Now that we have risen they are rejecting the laws the Irish have voted for.

Our former masters are now becoming outlaws.

Its a sign of their frustration at being dethroned – and it will only lead to further rejection by the Irish.






Yet another one of Cardinal Mahony’s auxiliary bishops disgraces the Church.


Former Los Angeles Cardinal Roger Mahony is long retired, but his scandals keep exploding like ticking time bombs around the feet of his successor. The latest eruption was this week’s revelation that Mahony had elevated Monsignor Alexander Salazar to auxiliary bishop in 2004 despite a credible allegation of abuse against Salazar from the 1990s. Mahony’s successor, Archbishop Jose Gomez, announced that Salazar’s resignation flowed from “deep concern for the healing and reconciliation of abuse victims and for the good of the Church’s mission.”
The Church has known about the allegation against Salazar for at least 13 years and in all likelihood much longer, but only got around to forcing Salazar’s resignation this week, presumably out of a PR need to tidy up such cases before Pope Francis’s “abuse summit” next February, and perhaps also out of fear of exposure by approaching investigators.


In anticipation of that gathering in February, Pope Francis vowed in a speech before cardinals this week that abuse cover-ups would “never” happen again, a promise that he can’t even keep in the most obvious case — the ongoing scandal of Theodore McCarrick, who remains holed up in a Kansas friary next to a school and tourist site while his criminal defense attorney issues protestations of innocence to the press in his name. Never happen again? The cover-up is happening right now.
Salazar, by the way, is only the most recent Mahony-era auxiliary bishop to disgrace the Church. Mahony really knew how to pick them: in addition to Salazar, he selected Gabino Zavala, who had a secret family.


And then earlier he selected Patrick Ziemann, a repeatedly accused molester whose ecclesiastical career was punctuated by an affair with an embezzling priest at one of his parishes (the priest also claimed coercion).
In 2004, Salazar was co-consecrated by Mahony and Zavala. Mahony had appointed Zavala to auxiliary bishop in 1994. It came out later that he had sired a couple of children from a mistress residing in another state. He resigned in 2012.
Salazar, Zavala, and Ziemann were Mahony’s kind of bishops — politically and theologically liberal, big on “social justice,” and mired in scandal. Mahony liked to keep bad priests close and the worst ones even closer. He made a molester known to him, Fr. Carl Sutphin, the associate pastor of his cathedral until prosecutors closed in on him.


Through Mahony’s string-pulling, Ziemann ended up a bishop. He went from Los Angeles to the head of the Santa Rosa diocese until ripped-off parishioners demanded his resignation in 1999. The police discovered that Ziemann had outfitted his embezzling priest-boyfriend with a special beeper for spur-of-the-moment sexual demands and had concealed his larceny during the throes of their affair. By the time Ziemann left the Santa Rosa diocese, it was $16 million in debt. Outraged parishioners wanted him prosecuted, but Vatican officials rode to his rescue and whisked him into a safe retirement. He was later hit with multiple molestation charges, dating to his days as dean of studies at a high school seminary in Los Angeles.
Salazar and Zavala might have received their own dioceses too had they managed their affairs a little more discreetly. I found an old story from a Utah paper purring over Salazar as a possible future bishop of Salt Lake City. But it turns out that Salazar, according to the Church’s latest admission, was under “precautionary” measures during his time as an auxiliary bishop, whatever that means. In other words, the Church knew perfectly well that he was a credibly accused molester and decided to let him retain his lofty title anyways. The utterly scandalous arrangement was overseen in part by Cardinal William Levada, an old crony of Mahony’s who conveniently assumed the top position at the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith the year after Salazar’s elevation.


Levada, Mahony, and Ziemann all came out of the same rotten 1960s-era seminary in Los Angeles, St. John’s, and had been trading favors for years. Before Pope Benedict XVI inexplicably promoted Levada to the head of his doctrinal office, Levada served as the archbishop of San Francisco, where he too had a molesting priest on his cathedral staff. Out of all these intersecting friendships from seminary days came a golden parachute for Ziemann after he got bounced from Santa Rosa. Levada oversaw Ziemann’s landing far from police in the Arizona desert, where he joined the “artsy party circuit in nearby Tucson” until his death, reported the journalist Ron Russell.
All of this is beyond the grimly satirical imagination of Evelyn Waugh, and the Church hasn’t even hit bottom yet. The news out of Illinois this week — its attorney general says that Illinois dioceses excluded at least 500 cases from their self-accounting of alleged priestly abuse — hints at the many revelations to come from unfolding state investigations across the country.


In the recent resignations of auxiliary bishops from New York (Bishop John Jenik) to Los Angeles (Bishop Salazar), one can already see the effects of that pressure. Both Cardinal Timothy Dolan and Archbishop Gomez knew that grand juries would eventually find out about the abuse allegations against their auxiliaries and apparently urged the Vatican to cut them loose sooner rather than later.
The Vatican has been spinning the abuse scandal as a relic of the “past.” But almost all the figures responsible for it remain highly visible in the present — even Mahony got his chance at the microphone in Baltimore at the fall bishops’ gathering — and they continue to exercise real power. Here and there a derelict bishop drops out, but for the most part the hierarchy stumbles on as a club for the compromised and the corrupt in which yearly membership is earned through mutual complicity in the cover-up.



Everyday the rotten underbelly of the RC hierarchy and clergy is being shown up more and more.

We are seeing it big time in the USA because of how many bishops they have and because of the size and power of the American media.

The RC Church in the USA is more rotten than a ship load of rotting, smelly. weeks old fish.

But that’s not the most serious issue. What is more serious is:

  1. The widespread abuse and sexual assault of children, seminarians, young priests and other adults.
  2. The massive coverup of all this rottenness of the bishops and the Vatican.
  3. The promotion of men to the episcopate on the basis of having done sexual favours to others and being involved in all kinds of corruption.


At this stage we can be 100% sure that what has been happening, and is happening in the USA has been and is happening in Ireland.

The most urgent necessity in Ireland is exposing Irish bishops who have been, or are, involved in sexual misbehaviour and corruption.

This will be exposed. It is simply a matter of time until it happens.

I, for one, am digging hard.




Pope Francis offered his “heartfelt thanks” in a lengthy speech on Friday to members of the media who helped expose sexual abusers within the ranks of the Catholic clergy.
In his yearly address to members of the Roman Curia, the pope publicly thanked “those media professionals who were honest and objective and sought to unmask these predators and to make their victims’ voices heard.”
“Even if it were to involve a single case of abuse (something itself monstrous), the Church asks that people not be silent but bring it objectively to light, since the greater scandal in this matter is that of cloaking the truth,” Francis said.
The pope himself has come under fire in recent months for a lack of transparency regarding his own conduct in the case of disgraced former Cardinal Theodore McCarrick, accused of serial homosexual abuse of seminarians, priests, and laypersons for decades.
In late August, the former papal nuncio to the United States, Archbishop Carlo Maria Viganò, accused the pope of having rehabilitated McCarrick despite knowing of his abuse.
Cardinal McCarrick enjoyed a “long friendship with Cardinal Bergoglio” and played an “important part” in his recent election, the archbishop claimed in an 11-page affidavit, which led the pope to continue using McCarrick as a trusted aide in the naming of American bishops even after learning of his misdeeds.
“McCarrick was part of a network of bishops promoting homosexuality who exploiting their favor with Pope Francis manipulated episcopal appointments so as to protect themselves from justice and to strengthen the homosexual network in the hierarchy and in the Church at large,” Viganò wrote.
When journalists questioned him about the truth of these and other allegations, the pope refused to answer and has maintained his silence ever since while lashing out at his accuser as an agent of Satan because of his attempts to reveals others’ wrongdoing.
“It is true, we are all sinners, we bishops,” the pope said in September, but the Great Accuser “seeks to unveil sins so that they may be seen, to scandalize the people.”
In his address Friday, Francis praised the “heroic example” of the martyrs and countless good Samaritans but said that their witness cannot “make us overlook the counter-witness and the scandal given by some sons and ministers of the Church.”
He said:
The Church has for some time been firmly committed to eliminating the evil of abuse, which cries for vengeance to the Lord, to the God who is always mindful of the suffering experienced by many minors because of clerics and consecrated persons: abuses of power and conscience and sexual abuse.
Comparing abusive priests to King David, the pope said that these men “perform abominable acts yet continue to exercise their ministry as if nothing had happened. They have no fear of God or his judgement, but only of being found out and unmasked.”
“Today too, there are many Davids who, without batting an eye, enter into the web of corruption and betray God, his commandments, their own vocation, the Church, the people of God and the trust of little ones and their families,” he said. “Often behind their boundless amiability, impeccable activity and angelic faces, they shamelessly conceal a vicious wolf ready to devour innocent souls.”
The pope also reiterated the commitment of the Church to root out the evil of sexual abuse.
“Let it be clear that before these abominations the Church will spare no effort to do all that is necessary to bring to justice whosoever has committed such crimes. The Church will never seek to hush up or not take seriously any case,” said the pope.
“To those who abuse minors I would say this: convert and hand yourself over to human justice, and prepare for divine justice,” he said.
“Remember the words of Christ: ‘Whoever causes one of these little ones who believe in me to sin, it would be better for him to have a great millstone fastened around his neck and to be drowned in the depth of the sea,’” he said.