Father Lawrence Murphy, a predator priest, groomed children for sex at a Roman Catholic school for the deaf in Milwaukee. After five of those boys came to grips with this in adulthood, they started a movement that forced the church to release documents that showed how top Vatican officials had covered up for priests who targeted children. Some monsignors minimized sexual aggression as normal behavior in all-male enclaves.
The Church upheld omertà ,
a code of silence. Ironically, pedophile priests groomed and assaulted deaf
children around the world precisely because their victims could not speak. And
yet, the eloquence of these five men telling their stories in vivid sign
language launched a resounding battle that helped force Pope Benedict to resign this year, the first Pope to do so in 600
years.
I watched the powerful HBO documentary Mea Maxima Culpa: Silence in the
House of God while I was
writing “Gift of the Mommies, A True
Story” that shows the generational fallout from a pedophile priest.
Suddenly the connection between the two provided another insight to what is
happening to children abused in family court.
For more than two decades, I have followed custody cases in
Rhode Island, the most Roman Catholic state in the nation. I’ve wondered what
kind of culture could have given rise to obvious abuses of power. Why did judges,
like clergy, often fail to accept the simple truth spoken by children
protesting abuse?
I saw how the judiciary resembles the Church, with its all-powerful,
black-robed judges, using inscrutable Latin words and assuming divine authority,
“So help you God!” while people sit silently in pews awaiting judgments that seal
their fate and their children’s.
The case of “Molly and Sara” described in this blog had a
different twist. The girls’ father and his brothers had grown up in a sexually aggressive
culture. The boys’ own father abused them with impunity and later went to
prison for molesting two mentally disabled children who were his psychotherapy
patients.
Molly and Sara’s father hated the Church and said it was “dumb”
– an ironic term when contemplating “silence in the House of God.” Molly had pleaded
with him to let their mother take her and Sara to church on Christmas Eve.
After Molly disclosed sexual abuse, police removed their
father from the house while the state investigated and lodged a finding against
him. Once he was out of the house, the children and their mother eagerly went
to church, where they met a remarkable group of townsfolk who supported them
for years afterward: writing letters, holding meetings, raising money for a
lawyer, pacing the marble corridor outside the courtroom as they prayed the
rosary, while the father fought and won sole custody of the girls. The
court-appointed guardian ad litem, Lise Iwon, who was close friends with
the father’s defense attorney, had orchestrated the children’s removal from
their mother. Iwon also hated the Church.
The family’s church friends contacted the Parenting Project and
asked us to investigate this case. One of the important lessons we learned is
that we cannot judge others on their creeds or their credentials, but only on the
integrity of their character.
You can see:
Mea Maxima Culpa:
Silence in the House of God
“Gift of the Mommies, A True Story”
Lise Iwon’s role in Molly and Sara’s case:
http://littlehostages.blogspot.com/2009/12/why-did-lise-iwon-do-it.html
http://littlehostages.blogspot.com/2009/12/why-did-lise-iwon-do-it.html
