That is what some of you used to be; but now you have had yourselves washed, you were sanctified, you were justified in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ and in the Spirit of our God.
In today's first reading Saint Paul complains loudly about some Corinthian Christians who have quarreled with each other and brought their complaints into the civil courts. Why couldn't they resolve their differences in the wisdom and charity of Christian revelation? How could anyone supposed that civil authorities who know nothing of the Lord might rule over them?
"Why not rather put up with injustice? Why not rather let yourselves be cheated?" he demanded. Wouldn't that be better than submitting to pagan authorities?
In the spring of 1988, before the clerical abuse of minors became a daily preoccupation of every news organization, John Roach, Archbishop of Saint Paul and Minneapolis, required every priest and deacon in his archdiocese to attend a series of workshops about the emerging scandal. We were educated about the distinctions of sexual harassment, exploitation and abuse; and severely reminded that such behavior is inexcusable among clergy.
A chief of police told us, "When you suspect criminal behavior of a priest, deacon or lay person, do not call the bishop! Call the police! We understand this sort of behavior. We know how to handle it. You do not!"
In many ways his counsel went against everything we had been taught or believed. It countered our clerical culture, inculcated in every seminary, diocesan or religious. It contradicted our protective instincts of one another and of the guileless laity who would be scandalized by rumors of criminal behavior. Some of us must have remembered Saint Paul's angry rebuke of his Corinthian church. All of us remembered that we don't tell neighbors about problems in our family.
I confess that when I discovered some time later that a subordinate had embezzled parish funds -- not a sexual crime -- I followed my instincts and called the minister provincial. It was twenty years before it occurred to me that I might have called the police or the district attorney.
In the current crisis, many of us are still flummoxed as to what we should have done, or might do the next time we suspect something amiss. When children are at stake is anyone innocent until proven guilty? How much benefit of a doubt, of a reasonable doubt, do we allow suspicious behavior? Am I willing to live with the consequences of mistakenly calling in the law?
And of course there's always the possibility that someone, disagreeing with my politics, might accuse me.
I don't think Saint Paul dealt with anything as horrible as sexual crimes against children. In any case, his directive to deal with such problems internally -- so clearly spelled out in scripture -- cannot apply under the present circumstance. Perhaps the First Letter of Saint John ( (2:19) provides the applicable verse:
...they were not really of our number; if they had been, they would have remained with us. Their desertion shows that none of them was of our number.
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I love to write. This blog helps me to meditate on the Word of God, and I hope to make some contribution to our contemplations of God's Mighty Works.
Ordinarily, I write these reflections two or three weeks in advance of their publication. I do not intend to comment on current events.
I understand many people prefer gender-neutral references to "God." I don't disagree with them but find that language impersonal, unappealing and tasteless. When I refer to "God" I think of the One whom Jesus called "Abba" and "Father", and I would not attempt to improve on Jesus' language.
You're welcome to add a thought or raise a question.