Courage

In speaking of courage, I am especially grateful, in fact, in awe of the survivors of sexual abuse that I have been graced to walk with in these latter days of my priesthood.

Bishop Edward B. Scharfenberger

This beautiful Memorial Day weekend — indeed the entire week which ushers us into June, where summer dreams begin to unfold — has been a time for me to contemplate and to express the great gratitude that flows from my heart. I have had the joy and blessing of celebrating at least two birthdays, that of our beloved Church, which is the mystical Body of Christ our Savior, on Pentecost Sunday, and my own 75th year. Not to mention the many anniversaries of loved ones, many of our diocesan and religious clergy who were ordained and couples who were married in the month of May. Each of you has shown a special kind of courage, witnessed in your lives of dedicated service, a commitment to love in the manner unique to the sacrament you celebrated as you responded to your vocation. Prayers and blessings for you all!

Never to be forgotten are those in the service who have given their lives in supreme sacrifice for our country, dying not only for those who benefit directly from the safety they secure, but the principles and ideals that, if cherished and fought for, provide an enduring foundation for freedom and peace. I pray for them and their families especially, thankful for the courage they displayed in the line of duty, no doubt with the thought of their loved ones still aflame in their hearts as they drew their last breath. I always take and offer the blessing our faith assures us of, that the same Lord our beloved deceased see in the face, God willing, is the same Lord we receive in sacrament at the Holy Mass. We are united by the same Holy Spirit, the Love between the Father and the Son, in the very heart of God.

All of those who have made a difference in my life, blessing me, supporting me, forgiving me, are streaming now through my mind and passing through my heart. Each time a name or a face or an encounter comes to mind, I offer a prayer of thanksgiving and a supplication that, wherever they may be, living or preceding us in God’s arms, all the good and joy God wants for them may be real and abiding. “Not even death can separate us from the love of God and the Savior who died and rose for us so courageously” (cf. Rm 8:38-39).

Speaking of great courage and the love to live the cross and resurrection, even as the agonizing scars remain, I am especially grateful, in fact, in awe of the survivors of sexual abuse that I have been graced to walk with in these latter days of my priesthood. I am sure they have always been with me over the years. I may never have known their stories or their suffering, but I know they were there, often praying for me and supporting me, but perhaps at times not able to because of the collar I wore, even if they might have been drawn to something they hoped I represent.

I have been made heartbreakingly aware, through personal encounters, that the words I speak and the outreach I so desire contrast, even conflict, with positions I have articulated in the course of the ongoing process the Child Victims Act (CVA) designed and other efforts to bring some modicum of justice, affirmation and respect to those who have suffered and continue to be wounded by trauma they bear from the horrendous abuse they endured. No amount of apology, from me personally, or in the name of the institution missioned to bring light that dealt them nothing but darkness, can suffice. Yet I continue to apologize to you from my heart.

It is becoming clearer to me that, while my heart’s desire has been and remains the determination to seek the accountability, justice and restoration at whatever cost or sacrifice, save what will ensure our mission of salvation and healing continues for all, the hurt and affront many survivors feel from the filing for Chapter 11 is itself something that causes me also great anguish. Looking at the tone of some news reports — I have no intention to blame survivors for the historical sins, misjudgments and malfeasance of too many within our own institution — and aware of the pastoral outreach that comes from my heart, I cannot help but agree with those who see a tension, if not a contradiction that might appear quite hypocritical.

To offer a defense or even some context, I think will do little to dispel this or relieve the sting. I am confident that once the legal process is concluded, the facts that I have stood by regarding our economic and material limitations will bear out. That is why I have long supported a plan that would have launched universal mediation sooner rather than later, with less exhaustion of funds that would best go to survivors than the costs of litigation and legal fees.

On the one hand — the one that ultimately matters to me and, I suspect, survivors — nothing is more important than that survivors tell their story, be heard respectfully and affirmed in their ongoing journey toward some kind of justice, and hopefully healing. On the other hand, the material resources in order to meet the temporal assistance to which they are entitled, are not unlimited. As shepherd, my heart and mind are focused on my entire flock, especially those most wounded, which includes not only those coming forward for relief under the CVA, but many more with no access to it. As a trustee of our institution, I am obliged by law to protect and support its mission to serve all. That requires working within the limitations of our legal system which, while needed, can never hope to resolve or heal all of that has been broken.

I am in awe of the courage of the survivors who have come forward and responded to my ongoing invitation to meet with them, so that they might tell their stories, express their feelings and hopes and know that I welcome them with respect, admiration and, dare I say, love. As I tell each of them, if you share with me your name, I will hold it in my heart and take it to our Lord in prayer each day. I do not expect you to believe me. I can understand you may never feel like entering a church door, under any premise, where you were so abused and your human dignity as a beloved child of God disregarded. Yet my heart remains wide open. And, with your pardon, I will leave the door open. Thank you for your courage and thank you for your life! You are, whether you can even imagine this possible or hear it as genuine, a precious member of our family.

For all of you who suffer in silence, be it for the loss of loved ones, the loss of trust in a person or an institution once esteemed, the loss of physical or mental steadiness due to aging or illness, some very personal issue, even the loss of faith itself – to all who are barely surviving in the face of incredible challenges, may I say that I welcome you and I hold you in prayer. I know and believe that God loves you, for Jesus died for us all, and will always seek you out as our Good Shepherd who wants none of us to be lost. I know that God has means of reaching us in ways we may not expect or imagine. I hope that, as life unfolds, and you continue to live with courage, you find yourself surprised by grace, amazed by God’s love. For that is, in the end, what will heal and save us all. “As it is written, ‘What eye has not seen, and ear has not heard, and what has not entered the human heart, what God has prepared for those who love him,’ this God has revealed to us through the Spirit.” (1 Cor 2:9-10, cf. Is 64:3). Courage!

 @AlbBishopEd