by Pearl Solas
She looked at him expectantly, head cocked.
He plowed ahead. “I don’t know how much you’ve heard about Father Frank Muncy, the circumstances of his death, or the influence he’s had on Paul Peña.”
“Not much,” she admitted, wincing slightly at the mention of Peña’s name.
Bishop Cólima told her the broad outlines.
“The thing is,” he said, “that Sam Wainwright, prison chaplain Father Matthew, and several others plan to begin the process seeking to canonize Father Frank. They need a bishop to sponsor the application, so they came to me. I knew Frank. He was obviously a complicated man, more complicated than most of us knew. The short story is, I’ve decided to sponsor the application. I wanted you to hear it from me.”
She did not explode. She breathed deeply and stopped walking. She turned to face him. He turned toward her.
“Thank you for telling me,” she said, looking directly into his eyes. “Sincerely. I’m sure it was no picnic, but it’s more evidence that you are a man of integrity. I’m not sure how to feel about this. I’ll need some time with it. Who knows, maybe I won’t need to do anything because the Congregation for the Causes of Saints will shut down the application right away. You have to admit, recognizing a pedophile—an admitted pedophile—as a saint is a pretty preposterous idea.”
His sheepish smile acknowledged her words.
She said, “Like you, I’ll need to pray and think and, ultimately, listen to my own conscience to figure out if, or how, I should respond.”
Her deep laugh lines, long rusted with disuse, creaked around a smile that reached her sad eyes. “Thank you, Bishop, really, for telling me. Do you mind if I walk back on my own?”
He reached over and patted her back. “Of course not.”
Chapter Thirty-Four
Sam tried to capture the attention of the assembled members of the Congregation for the Causes of Saints. “Gentlemen, like the rest of us who are asking you to canonize Father Frank, Tavis Pereira has been a firsthand witness to so much of the damage caused by priests who commit sexual offenses against children and other vulnerable people. He has prayed for God’s guidance, and listened to what God called him to do. He decided to appear before you today because he saw how God used Father Frank as a tool for redemption and healing—starting with Paul Peña.
“I’ve spent most of my life hating Paul Peña for what he did to me. When I learned how many other boys he’d hurt, the tree of my hatred grew. I chose a life in an institution that professes the availability of forgiveness and newness of life for all, but I didn’t really believe it applied to Paul. I couldn’t fathom forgiving him, or myself, and so I couldn’t imagine a God that could forgive us either.
“God strengthened my sight so that, through my haze of pain, I could see the truth of Paul’s transformation. A complete transformation was the only explanation for how he was able to offer his apology to his victims even when he knew he would be met with hatred and rage. I learned that he was able to continue sharing his repentance because he had learned to rely on a strength greater than his own.
“His experiences made it impossible for him to doubt that God was actively working in his life. He had endured the pain of a serious physical attack, and the marvel of overnight healing and of being the object of such compassion from someone who loathed him but was willing to assume his injuries. . . even unto death. Father Frank’s willing substitution for Paul illustrated, in a way Paul’s extensive religious education never had, how Christ’s sacrifice of love can transform us.
“The gospels teach it, but not until his experiences with Father Frank could Paul internalize that Christ’s sacrifice was given not only for the righteous, the mistaken, or even the moderately bad—but for all of us. Even for the worst of us. Even for those of us who knowingly and willingly choose to sin against God, our neighbors, and our neighbors’ children. Even, as Paul finally understood without room for doubt, for him.
“Paul’s miraculous physical healing was just the beginning, and his calling to repeated expressions of repentance was refined through the painful fire of experiencing firsthand the injuries he had inflicted on his victims. It was clarified by Father Frank’s posthumous visit. These experiences changed a cruel, selfish man into a flawed but willing tool of Christ’s ministry of reconciliation.
“Before meeting Paul in that prison, I had worn my fury like a comfortable garment. Afterward, despite receiving reassurance that I would be within my rights to continue harboring hatred toward Paul, I was surprised to realize that I wanted to want to forgive him. It was a slow process that led me to several other meetings with Paul where I aired my anger and tried to understand how he had changed.
“As draining as those meetings were, we began to discuss how to boost the signal of Paul’s repentance to the many others who needed to hear it. Obviously, Paul’s ability to act independently was limited, so I started visiting those of his victims that had participated in the criminal proceedings against him, and explained my recent experience and how meaningful it had been for me to hear Paul accept responsibility for his actions.
“Several of the men I visited told me to fuck straight off. I fucked off, as requested. Some of them said they needed time to think, and I haven’t heard from most of them since then. A few, though, chose to attend facilitated meetings with Paul.
“It’s a powerful medicine to hear a person who has hurt you accept responsibility and express remorse without deflection. It’s a medicine that’s almost never offered to victims of childhood sexual abuse, and the effects were profound.
“Many of the men were neither ready nor willing to move toward forgiving Paul, but the transparency with which he told the truth about the way he had manipulated each of them led to an even more important forgiveness—to forgiving themselves.
“During this same period, Paul began receiving overtures from some individuals on the other side of the equation: people who had sexually abused children or adolescents, and who had been moved to offer the same apology to their own victims. We formed a team of mental health professionals, ecumenical clergy, and newly empowered abuse survivors to carefully screen these offenders and discern their motivations. Our team has worked hard to ensure that victims never come into contact with their abusers until we’ve completed rigorous preparations to safeguard the victims from further emotional harm. So far the screening system has been effective.
“Once past the screening process, the offenders who have participated have been surprised by their own transformations. In some cases, they came to us with their regrets fully formed and in other cases, they were led to our program by a niggling tap of curiosity working through their conscience. Paul Peña’s own road to Damascus, so to speak, has prepared him to guide even the merely curious through a frank appraisal of past actions—building an understanding of the victims’ perspectives—and examining the consequences of the abuse. They’ve seen the mysterious alchemy through which light transforms guarded, secret shame into guilt and repentance.”
Sam paused, took a drink of water to soothe his parched throat, and then dove in again. “I hate what Paul did to me and to so many others, but I love having such a great seat for witnessing how Christ has used even that pain to spread the beautiful seeds of his love and forgiveness. Many of those who have suffered in the same or similar ways are angry that my response has been to advocate for the canonization of Father Frank. I understand their anger. I understand how it feels like a betrayal. But, really, the way God used Father Frank is the perfect example of how God’s capacity for forgiveness, for transformation, and for using each of us as we are rather than waiting for idealized versions of ourselves, transcends our own understanding. Father Frank belonged to a category of individuals that our culture sees as the very worst example of deviancy and sinfulness. We deny their humanity, we feel justified in making them the butts of our crudest jokes, and we actively and gleefully wish them harm.
“If Paul had died from that beating,
many people, including me, would have thought his punishment was just. But God, in his creative, redemptive brilliance, led Father Frank to prayerfully intercede on behalf of the person who embodied his worst fears about himself. God accepted the obedience Father Frank offered, stoked it like a fragile, glowing coal, and then used it to overwhelm Paul with a raging, purifying fire of compassion, clarity, repentance, and forgiveness.
“God paved the way for some incredible healing through what he did with Father Frank and Paul Peña, but I’m sure you know that not everyone agrees. Our movement has gained momentum, but there’s also a powerful opposition. If I hadn’t been personally impacted by what happened with Father Frank, I’m sure I would have identified with the opposition movement.
“When taken at face value, most people think the fact that you are seriously considering our request to add an admitted pedophile to the canon to be an example of the Church’s astounding lack of a reality touchstone in the priest sex abuse crisis. If they take the time to learn more, though, they would observe the awe and gratitude of the countless survivors and offenders who are able to describe the positive changes wrought in their lives. In the presence of such gratitude, many naysayers can’t help but reconsider their earlier dismissal of the possibility that a member of that most hated caste of society could possibly be rightfully named to the canon of saints. They begin to believe that maybe God is calling the Church to this action precisely because it radically highlights the unknowable vastness of God’s capacity for seeking, forgiving, and reconciling even those whom their fellow humans find impossible to forgive.
“Saints are particularly important in the Roman Catholic tradition because, unlike God, they are not all powerful, all knowing, and unsullied by human imperfections. They bring hope in believers’ daily lives often because of their imperfections. The apostle Paul inspires us because his story reveals how the presence of the godhead in the person of the resurrected Christ could transform even ardent persecutors into willing champions of faith. Saint Francis of Assisi continues to touch hearts because he demonstrates how the joy of Christ’s promise can outshine the glitter of great wealth.
“Others are led to Christ because of the story of saints like Saint Vladimir of Kiev, who performed human sacrifices, or the Blessed Bartolo Longo, who was a Satanic priest before converting to Christianity. These examples help all of us believe that God can use and love even someone who has committed the deeds that lurk in the darkest corners of the psyche. The sexual abuse of children has always existed, but we live in a time where it is not always concealed and ignored, but sometimes comes into the light where, rightfully, those affected can grieve.
“In the middle of this, God, in his quietly insistent way, asks, ‘Remember when I said I came, not to the righteous, but to bring sinners to repentance? I meant even those who do the things you hate the most. I despise their actions, but they too are my precious lost sheep, and I will go to great lengths to find even them in their wilderness. I am who I am, and my grace is sufficient . . . even for them. My redemption includes . . . even them.’
“Obviously, it’s complicated, and I get it. I understand all of the arguments against canonizing Father Frank. Although I believe I’m doing what God has called me to do to demonstrate the power and creativity of his redemption, it’s dangerous to claim to know God’s will. I could be wrong. I’m hoping the Holy Spirit gives you the discernment to make a recommendation consistent with God’s will.
“I don’t anoint saints. In spite of its processes, rules, and traditions, neither does the Church. If you’re honest with yourself, gentlemen, you’ll know that you don’t either. Neither does the Pope. No, God chooses his saints, and he shapes and tempers them to be what his Body needs at the time it needs it. God used Father Frank as a tool to accomplish miracles that furthered his purposes. I am simply responding to a call of the Holy Spirit to seek official recognition of the status God himself bestowed on Father Frank.
“I think the Church should do this precisely because it’s complicated and politically unsettling. On its face, the optics are terrible, and I’m sure the media will capitalize on that fact with headlines guaranteed to drive revenue. Scratching deeper, though, the thrust of this story is not the canonization of a pedophile. It is the canonization of a flawed but obedient servant who answered God’s call, gave his most wicked and persistent inclinations to his Redeemer, and opened himself fully to be used as an instrument for the people most wounded by the nature of his sinfulness.
“I am an example of the healing power of Father Frank’s decision. So are the many survivors who have received a greater measure of peace than they ever hoped to have because of Father Frank’s obedience and how his spiritual gifts paved the way for God’s transformation of Paul Peña and, in turn, for the movement of reconciliation Paul has led.
“The power of the Holy Spirit within this movement is why I’m not just a lone wing-nut advocating for the canonization of Father Frank. We receive plenty of vitriol from people who focus on, and hate, the idea of making a pedophile a saint. I’d be lying if I said I don’t care what those people think. It hurts when they describe our efforts as pedophile advocacy or when they suggest that we must be pedophiles ourselves. But I also know those people have certain ideas and expectations of who God is, and their assumptions about his ability to work in the world are limited by what they think they know. Their anger is not just painful, it’s terrifying. Even so, the call to this task, which began as a small, easily ignored voice, has become an unmistakable command, and Our Lord fills us with the strength to pursue it every day.
“Gentlemen, please think about what I’ve said today. Pray about it. Give it to the Holy Spirit. Then make your recommendation according to your conscience.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
From across the chamber, Veronica watched Sam Wainwright conclude his remarks while the assembled members of the Congregation for the Causes of Saints jotted notes. The Devil’s Advocate now approached the lectern, and Veronica picked up the earpiece supplying her with real-time translation of the Italian spoken by the Devil’s Advocate, who was tasked with presenting the case opposing the canonization of any candidate for sainthood. In many ways, the process was similar to a jury trial, with the presentation of witnesses for both sides, and the members of the Congregation serving as a sort of jury that would submit recommendations to the Pope for his ultimate decision.
The case in favor of canonization had rested with Sam’s remarks and, listening, Veronica had found herself moved in spite of herself. When she first heard about the canonization efforts from Bishop Cólima, she had been gun-shy about putting herself out there again, but after a great deal of prayer, she had concluded that her conscience required her to speak out. This time, she had moved forward with open eyes, fully understanding the likely futility of her renewed efforts to make Church leadership inhabit the perspectives of the thousands upon thousands of children and families who had been wounded by the culture that bred the clergy abuse crisis.
“And so, signores,” continued the Devil’s Advocate in Italian, “I encourage you to listen to Mrs. Veronica Matthews from the Colberg diocese, the very diocese where Frank Muncy lived and worked. She explains, better than I ever could hope to, why canonizing Father Frank would be a terrible decision.”
As Veronica approached the lectern, those members of the Congregation who did not speak fluent English re-inserted their earpieces.
“Gentlemen,” Veronica began, making eye contact with each member of the Congregation in turn, a technique she’d often employed to persuade courts and juries. “Mr. Wainwright and the other witnesses testifying in favor of canonization did an impressive job describing their long road here, to speak in front of you, and of Father Frank’s long spiritual journey. I don’t know Mr. Wainwright personally, but I do know and respect two of the other witnesses in favor of canonization—Bishop Cólima and Tavis Pereira. I also know both of these men have given their testimony out of a genuine belie
f that canonizing Father Frank is the right thing to do. Perhaps in another time, in another context, I could agree with them. But in the current time, and the current context, I know you will make a grave mistake if you recommend canonization. A mistake that further fractures, perhaps fatally, the already injured Church we all love.
“My sweet son was one of the boys Paul Peña abused. He was younger than most of Peña’s victim’s—only 12 years old. Sean was so much more than just a victim, but what Paul Peña did to him reduced Sean, in his own mind, to a handful of bewildering experiences. His father and his sisters and I, and really everyone who knew him and loved him, tried to make him understand how special he was. Even as an infant, he was remarkable. He wasn’t even a year old when I fell pregnant again, and a little while later, I miscarried. One day I was having a hard time with the loss, and this kind child, who hadn’t even taken his first step, crawled over to me, touched the tears on my cheek, and gave me a kiss. He wasn’t even a toddler and he was comforting and encouraging me!” Veronica’s throat caught her sob.
“It’s easy to dismiss such examples as a parent’s overenthusiasm about her child, but he just continued to grow in loveliness. His older sisters have always bickered with each other, but they never bickered with Sean. One year he had received a big gift certificate to a toy store for his birthday, and there was nothing in particular that he wanted, so he spent it all on a big gift for his closest friend. That is who Paul Peña stole . . . not just from me, but from the world.
“Sean and I were close. Once he finally started talking about what happened to him, he shared a lot of details with me. I can tell you that the physical injuries from his rape healed in the blink of an eye compared to the damage Peña did with his manipulation. No amount of therapy or love from the people who cared for my Sean could heal that hurt. While Paul Peña went on with his life, Sean carried the shame with him for years—until he just couldn’t carry it anymore.”