So – the world is without a pope. Sort of. We have a pope emeritus, whatever the hell that means. I’ve spent entirely too much time reading up on this topic (google search – Pope Resignation Conspiracies) and have a developed a theory about this situation:
- There’s some bad, bad financial stuff that’s going on within the Vatican bank. Vatican BANK? Whatever.
- That evil Cardinal Bertone is behind a bunch of what’s been happening. If one were to believe in the devil, he’d be the most likely candidate. I think he’s been running everything since Benny was elected (i.e. chosen because he was weak and could be manipulated). I believe that he’s a bad, bad man.
- There’s a bunch of Vatican sex scandals – and for a change, it probably won’t focus on priests diddling/raping little boys or girls – just waiting to bust wide open.
- I hope what I read about Benny’s chances of being arrested for his role in the cover up of the child abuse scandal is true. Hope, hope, hope. I’d pray, but hoping for it is equally as impactful.
- Catholics around the world are going to put their foot down and slam their pocketbooks shut. The innocence is gone, or should be.
It is the end of the world – the end of the Catholic dominated world. And it will be a better planet for it.
I’m going to reveal something that I’ve only shared with a very few people in my life. I was molested by a seminarian at a novitiate near where I grew up. My parents were supporters of the order and the priests there and we spent many Sunday afternoons at the ‘compound’. It was a beautiful place located on the bluffs along a river. The grounds were beautiful, filled with gardens and flowers. There were lots of buildings, all built in the 1920s in Spanish style – stucco, rounded doorways, etc. This novice - or priest in training – was from England. I’ll never, ever forget his name – Aiden Murray. He must have been about 19 or 20, had longish Beatle-esque hair and seemed so exotic. I was 7 or so. He took me on a walk one afternoon and we went into one of the barns to see some baby kittens. We saw the kittens, alright. And he fondled me, beneath my panties. I was confused and couldn’t figure out what on earth he was doing. I don’t remember any words being exchanged at all. He didn’t tell me not to tell, but I didn’t. We went back to the main hall and I ran to my mom and grabbed her and held on tight. If my parents ever knew or suspected or discussed it with me, I have no memory of it. It seems to my child memory that the next time we went back, he was gone. I remember Mom telling me that he’d decided that he didn’t want to be a priest and had gone home to England.
I’m not saying this dramatically affected my life. It wasn’t traumatic or violent. I don’t remember any ‘grooming’. I do remember being glad that he left and I wouldn’t ever have to see him again. Sometime not long after, the Novitiate closed and the property sat empty for many years. I feel a twinge, deep inside, when I read about the child abuse that has gone on for decades. I was part of that. A small part, a secret part, but a part of the whole all the same. Just another statistic.
Oh dear. Such a confusing and frightening thing for your 7 year old self. I’m so sorry that it happened to you. It’s so hard to make sense of, even at this point in life.
My mom was molested as a small child. Well, raped, in fact. It colored so much of her view of the world.
I hope letting the secret out into the world will be of some help to you.
And, I agree with you one thousand percent on the rest of your rant! I’m also waiting to see what ugliness is unearthed in the upcoming drama…
xoxoxoox
For all the victims who have come forward there are probably hundreds more like you who never spoke up. I agree. It’s time for the collapse of the ongoing travesty
I think there are A LOT of us out there with stories that are pretty much untold. Mine is this: My parents were HUGE in our church. It was not uncommon for us to have a priest come to dinner. One time, my parents invited our parish priest and a visiting priest, a deaf man from Ohio. I was 8 or 9. My Mother asked me to show Father Heidrich (and yes, that is/was his name) around out garden. I asked him if he wanted so see something beautiful. He said yes. I took him behind the bushes on the side of our house to show him some bright green moss that was growing. He agreed that it was indeed, beautiful by nodding and smiling sweetly at me. And then he unzipped his pants and took out his cock. He told me to touch it. I was TERRIFIED. I had been brought up to NEVER deny a priest. EVER. I gingerly reached across with my index finger and sort of tapped it. He grasped my hand and forced me to rub him. He came almost instantly. He said something to me, but since he was deaf, his speech was very hard to understand. I don’t know what he said to me. I jumped up and ran into the house, into the bathroom. I scrubbed my hand so hard with water so hot that I burned myself. Then, I went into the kitchen and tried to hold my Mother but she was busy and kept handing me dishes to take to the table. I had to sit next to Father Heidrich at dinner and I could barely eat. I kept my right hand in my lap. I never told anyone. My Da died a few months later and to my horror, Father Heidrich came to our house with another priest again to “comfort” us. This time, I clung to my Mother and refused to even look at him. He reached out to touch me and I shrank away. My Mother looked up and wobbily apologized to him. “She’s just so grief stricken,” she told him. “She and her Da were so close.” He nodded and didn’t come near me again. My Mother leaned down and whispered, “I know you’re upset, but you are never, ever to be rude to a priest again. Do you understand?” I didn’t. I never told anyone until years later when I was a mother myself and told my sisters one weekend when we were all together. I left the church when I was in my mid twenties and have never looked back….welll….not until now. My daughter has chosen to attend a Catholic junior high and will attend a Catholic girl’s academy next year. But, Liv knows my story and hopefully, I have raised her to not hold anyone in such high esteem that you will protect them if they hurt you. Sorry this is so long. But…you aren’t alone. There are so many of us, yes?