Survivors' Voices: Advice for Priests, Part 2
The invitation to offer words of advice to priests really resonated with many of our Survivors’ Voices Panelists. Perhaps this speaks to a deep longing to have priests really listen to the guidance survivors have to offer - and a deep disappointment that it seems most priests are not interested in seeking out this guidance.
This blog post is only one tiny step, but I hope the priests (as well as lay ministers and other church leaders) reading will really consider this advice and put it into practice.
(You can find Part 1 of this post here.)
Father, first of all thank you for asking what you should know and what you can do, given my experience of abuse in the Church. When you asked, a deep feeling of gratitude arose in me. Asking is the one of the best things you and others can do. Something you should know is that abuse changed — radically, irrevocably — my experience of the Church. I want you to know that, and be able to hear what it means and doesn’t mean. In the before period, I had a generally naive and trusting view of the Church’s leaders and structures. Abuse thoroughly disabused me of this. Just recently a dear friend of mine referred to some minor issue and said “well, if the priest said it, then it’s true, he’s on a different level.” As an abuse survivor, I have lost this instinctive trust. Because so much of the rest of the Church hasn’t had the direct experience of abuse, this change in me creates a tension. Well-meaning parishioners and others around me wish I could just “go back to the way things were,” but the door of naive trust is closed. I hope you know that doesn’t mean that I now hate priests, or the Church, or God. I’m disappointed in many, perhaps, but I am still here. I cherish the welcome and space you have given me. Just as you have personally given me space and grace, you can help others — your brother priests, and my fellow parishioners — understand a little more about what we need, and how they can support our healing.
It is an enormous burden for me to go to Mass. I continue to engage with the Church in other ways, because I believe that I have a responsibility to do better for the next generation, to revitalize the Church into a place of healing, not of trauma. But when I am able to attend Mass, it is either in a state of dissociation or agony. I often force myself there because I miss it so much, knowing that it perpetuates harm to my wellbeing and healing. Please don't talk about me like I've happily stepped away, like I'm shirking my duties to the Church because I don't care. I'd give anything to feel safety in worship again.
When responding to survivors of abuse (of any kind, but especially abuse perpetrated by Catholic leaders), please, please leave out any talk of "sin" in the experience of the abuse or in the aftereffects of/reaction to it. I once admitted to a priest - in the context of telling him about the abuse I had experienced in the convent - that I really struggled with authorities. His response was to label that struggle as "pride." By some grace of God, I was able to push back on it, telling him that my struggle was due to the ways authority and the vow of obedience had been used against me and, thankfully, he changed his tune. But if I hadn't been strong enough to do that, he would have continued to talk about my "sin" of "pride." I felt like he took it personally as a challenge to his authority. There's nothing worse than admitting to a serious struggle in the aftermath of abuse and having the priest then shame you for your "sin" in struggling with it.
I have spoken to a couple of patient, sympathetic priests from my abuser's religious order. They listened patiently and with open minds. One even told me how highly he prioritizes healthy boundaries. I believe him. That said, he and the other priest who knows what happened to me have either been totally powerless or utterly apathetic about making sure my abuser's behavior is curtailed or stopped. My abuser is pastor of one of the biggest parishes in the diocese now, a parish with a school. I honestly feel talking to priests (including bishops, etc.) is pointless.
Believe those who report to you. I had to wage a dire battle against myself to resist denial and rationalizing of what was happening to me in order to speak about it. I can't fight a battle for you too. I am barely surviving my own. Don't dismiss and minimize what happened. I can't believe it either. It's too horrible to be within the realm of possibility. There is nothing I want more than to somehow be freed from this situation. I need you to be a lifeline, not someone who turns away from my mortal wounds and denies them.
Priests -- please stay in your lane. Assess your qualifications, training, experience and overall ability to counsel individuals before engaging in pseudo-therapy -- even if you are asked to do so. In short, if you don't have a license to practice therapy, DON'T. Great harm and damage has been caused by priests who have ignored these simple words.
Please don't insert yourself and your own ego into the story of a survivor. Don't automatically take their story or reactions as a criticism of you or your priesthood. Even if you feel attacked, try to see through whatever comment or reaction is bothering you to the pain that's underneath it, and recognize the validity of that pain. Don't circle the wagons and try to defend abusers - we survivors already have way too much experience trying to explain away what happened to us. Set aside your ego and listen with humility to what's being communicated. Admit you don't necessarily know how to respond. Allow survivors to tell you what we need from you, as well as what's helpful vs. what's not. Allow yourself to learn from survivors instead of always trying to teach us.
I think rather than giving advice, I would want to ask a sympathetic priest questions: Why hasn't my story been important to anyone? Is there something different that I need to say? As a priest who is an ally to survivors, do you feel marginalized like me? Do you have to keep your beliefs a secret in the same way that I have to hide my story in order to avoid being shunned in the Church? Why is the personal dignity and safety of the lay people in the Church a non-issue to so many?
Please do not shy away from difficult conversations. It is extremely harmful to a survivor of clergy abuse to be dismissed or ignored. I had a similar experience with two different priests whom I reached out to at the recommendation of our Archdiocese's victim assistance coordinator. Both initially offered to talk with me, but then never responded to my requests to set up a time. I know that parish priests are extremely busy, but if you don't have the capacity to meet with a survivor, I would rather hear that than be ignored.
The advice I would give a trauma-informed priest is to know your limitations. A priest who helped me immensely was aware that I would need a therapist and he could recommend one that would help. He had cultivated a directory of pastoral counselors, therapists, and physicians that served as resources for persons with trauma. We continued to meet in spiritual direction, but he was aware of his limitations and boundaries. There were some moments of direction that he would say "this is something you may wish to share with your therapist." I never felt abandoned by this priest, but accompanied and prayed for during these moments.
Thank you to each person who shared a response on this subject, and to everyone who took the time to read. Would you consider passing this post along to a few priests you know who might be open to hearing these reflections?
I’ll have the August Reading Roundup for you next week.
Peace,
Sara
Powerful important advice Thank you to everyone who contributed!