Penn State, Paradigms and Poor Me

November 14, 2011 By Elizabeth Scalia

With all there is to read on the Penn State/Sandusky story, here are two excellent pieces that should rise to the top of the pile:

Read Mark Shea on Betrayal and the Power of a Relationship:

But though lots of combox warriors are quite adept at fantasizing about how bravely they would have behaved and how vile Mike McQueary is in comparison to their brave selves, how they would have taken a baseball bat to Sandusky had they caught him in flagrante, the reality is that, if the Milgram experiments are any indication, a huge percentage of people are pretty well programmed to avoid trouble with authority figures rather than open a can of whupass. Sorry, but that’s the stuff we fallen humans are made of, as our first Pope learned when he confidently declared, “Though everyone else deny you, I will never deny you.” Indeed, despite the flattering and heroic picture so many Laptop Ninjas have of themselves, righteously battling evil with flawless martial arts moves and utter rectitude like Buffy and Angel, the real picture of fallen humanity given to us by revelation is that of the apostles in Gethsemane on Holy Thursday: big talk, sleepiness while Jesus sweats blood, a brief show of bluster and bravado against the wrong person (resulting in a severed ear) and then bolting, ass-saving panic such that one of the disciples peeled out of his clothes and ran off naked rather than defend the innocent from evil authority figures. That story is painful to read because that story is a paradigm, not an isolated incident. It has been replayed again and again down the centuries and we chicken shits in comboxes boasting about our courage over Those People Over There know it damn well. That’s why we talk so big.

It’s a long, wide-ranging post and you’ll want to read it all.

Then read James Martin in the WaPo, writing elegantly and well on the traits of narcissism and grandiosity that are characteristic of child sex abusers, and how those qualities segue into hyperdramatic “poor me” defenses that — too often — are answered with a “yes, our poor hero” among the mob.

I’m no psychologist, and no expert in sexual abuse, so I cannot offer any further data other to say this: these words struck me with the force of a lightning bolt. Why? Because the majority of priests I knew who had been removed from ministry because of abuse claims showed precisely these two qualities. And in the case of Jerry Sandusky, Penn State football’s defensive coordinator accused of sexual abuse, we see some signs of both: the narcissist (who–allegedly –commits rape despite the terrible suffering it causes) and the grandiose Pied-Piper (who founds a center for boys).

But there is a further problem, one that is not often spoken about.

In my experience, after the conviction or removal from office or ministry, those two qualities merge in the person with terrible consequences. And these consequences make it far more difficult for the institution to address such cases. The grandiose narcissist now focuses almost exclusively on his own suffering. His removal from office, or from ministry, he believes, is the worst thing that has happened to anyone, and he (or she) laments this fate loudly and frequently. Because of his narcissism he focuses almost entirely on his own troubles; because of his grandiosity he inflates them to ridiculous proportions. He suffers the most. This is the “Poor Me” Syndrome.

Even more dangerous: he draws others into his net, and the suffering of the real victims, those whose lives have been shattered, is overlooked-even by otherwise intelligent and well-meaning people. The focus of those within the institution is shifted onto the person they know, rather than the victims that they may not know. “Poor Father,” some parishioners may say, “how he suffers.” It is difficult for a diocese, a religious order, a school, or indeed members of any institution to resist the powerful pull of the grandiose narcissist. Indeed, people often seem unaware that they are being deluded into an overblown sympathy for the wrong “victim.”

Do read it all. I couldn’t help but consider the all-out hysterics that accompanied recent stories of religious superiors or bishops either removing priests from ministry (as with John Corapi) or limiting a priest’s scope while looking into things (Fr. Frank Pavone). While — thankfully — neither of these stories had anything to do with pederasty, the rallying around celebrity priests, and the vituperation displayed toward superiors who were doing their jobs, was energetic and sometimes scandalously idolatrous. Meanwhile, grandiosity you think?; narcissism, maybe? In their turns (and in very different ways) both Corapi and Pavone (or their agents) made a point of serving up red meat to their supporters, who then went wild-dog on fellow Catholics who were more willing to wait the story out than presume to actually know the truth about anything. They could not focus on anything but the fact that their champion was being tested, or indeed falling. These moments only divided and diminished all involved.

We are all fallen; the world is a broken place. These two articles are helpful.

UPDATE:
Bookworm, who is a martial arts fiend and a lawyer writes: Penn State is a tocsin, warning us what happens when our cultural paradigm encourages us to pass the buck.

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"Of Gods and Men" and John Corapi

July 9, 2011 By Elizabeth Scalia

The remarkable film Of Gods and Men is out on Netflix, and if you haven’t seen it yet, I urge you to put it on your queue and move it to the top. It is one of the best films I seen in years — gripping, moving, enlightening and insightful. I can’t think of a film in recent memory that so truly and respectfully portrays the life of faith, the religious life, and most especially the value, use and meaning of liturgical prayer and the sacramental, Holy Mass — how these enhance the life of faith, deepens its roots so that it may withstand the storms that come.

If it begins a little slow for some, especially in our age of shoot-em-ups, stick with it. This is lovely, simple, lyrical and true:

First of all, it is a realistic portrayal of the life of faith. The monks are not perfect; no saint, or martyr, is. Holiness always makes its home in humanity. Occasionally the monks are impatient, tetchy, or short with one another. (“He’s tired,” says an older monk after a younger one has spoken to him sharply while cleaning up after a meal.) One of them thinks wistfully of the life that he might have had “on the outside.” Moreover, the group struggles mightily with the idea that they might be “called” to be martyrs, indeed resisting it until almost the last minute. As anyone would. The life of the believer often involves uncertainty, doubt, and confusion. Two of them are seen, quite distinctly, as “avoiding” their fate. But all try to grapple with what God seems to be asking of them, strange and frightening as it may seem to them.

Second, the movie does not stint—at all—on the religious underpinnings of their actions and choices. Too often in contemporary cinema, producers or directors indicate by their own choices that audiences will not understand people who talk about God in a serious way. And so we see (and hear) the monks chanting their prayers, celebrating Mass, preparing for Christmas. In this way the movie was reminiscent of another recent film on the monastic life, the documentary Into Great Silence. We hear the words of their prayers, too; and we are privy to their conversations with one another about God, and often with God. God is real to them; and God’s effect on their lives is made real to the viewer.

You’ll want to read that whole review, and I agree that the “last supper” scene was spine-tingling and moving in a remarkable way, but the whole film is full of moments of almost sublime sweetness intermingled with moments of terror, hopelessness, fear, doubt, and pleading prayer – “help me, help me, oh, help me.”

The director makes his points without hammering us over the head — when the Abbot, Brother Christian, is simply walking through the fields, along with sheep, you understand what he is thinking, and why he cannot leave to save himself. When he is marveling at the circumference of a tree that must be thousands of years old, you understand that he is thinking that it has been there long before he existed, will be there long after he has died. Its roots are deep. And Jesus hung upon such wood.


A scene I found almost unspeakably beautiful involved Vespers. Knowing that at any moment their humble monastery may be invaded by murderous extremists, the brothers hear a chopper come near. Perhaps this is the moment of their martyrdom, and while they by no means seek death, they cannot be anything but who and what they are: monks. As per the Rule of St. Benedict (which Trappists follow) “nothing is to be preferred to the Divine Office,” and so they draw together in their very humble choir, facing the stained glass window outside of which the menacing chopper hovers, and they put their arms about each other’s shoulders — true brothers — and sing all the louder, in beautiful harmony, in defiance, and in joy.

The “last supper” scene truly is astonishing. A confrontation with mystery. Understanding that this may be their last meal together — that they have made an irrevocable decision that will likely mean their deaths — they fill their glasses with the best wine, and instead of a reading, they listen to Tchaikovsky’s Swan Lake. As the music plays, they share a wordless conversation about love. Here is Love; they are confronting its depths and it sacrifice, it’s ache and confusion and its powerful relation to Truth. The Gospel notes are there: that they have saved the best wine for last speaks to the beginning of Christ’s ministry, and Mary’s words, “do whatever he tells you,” a scene which launched the world’s exposure to Jesus of Nazareth and speaks to the truth that to know him and follow him involves continual rediscoveries that hone new depths. We see that all of their pursuit of Christ has brought them to this self-knowing surrender to Providence. Watching this scene, the beginning of Psalm 133 came to me:

How good and how pleasant it is,
when brothers live in unity!
It is like precious oil upon the head
running down upon the beard,

Christ is all over this moment. Later, when the monks are taken prisoner, and the oldest has managed to evade capture, his silent grief at not being with his brothers, not surrendering that final bit of himself, is so sad and affecting, and yet ultimately this film is about freedom and victory.

The monks, living and dying in Christ, were true victors. I love the conversation between Brother Christian and Brother Luc, where they discuss their decisions to remain at the monastery: “to leave is to die,” Luc had said earlier. Now he ponders all he has seen in his life, including Nazi’s, and acknolwedges that he is not afraid of death — that his freedom has always been Christ-centered. As the bell rings, calling them to prayer, they prepare to exit the small office, and Luc jokes to Christian, “let the free man go through.”

It is a lovely moment, and when I watched it I could not help but think of the video I had watched a few hours previous, and which I found alternately ridiculous and profoundly sad.

“Let the free man go through,” said the martyred monk, Brother Luc. When he said it, with a wry grin, he seemed to me to be much more free than John Corapi, and when I said my prayers before sleep, I thanked God for his martyrs, but the bulk of my prayers were for Corapi, who seems to be in terrible trouble. As I texted to my Li’l Bro Thom, “He never looks directly at the camera, and when he looked away at the video’s end, all I saw was self loathing and imprisonment. I am watching Of God’s and Men right now, and those trapped martyrs were more free than that poor soul. It’s too sad.”

Thom’s response touched on what he understands of addictive personalities and compulsive disorders — all of it very enlightening, of course, but my head was swimming with images from the film and I couldn’t help thinking that Corapi’s desire to live a life without confreres, without accountability, without hearing, “no” once in a while or having to confer with a community rather than calling all of his own shots — and with the sacramental life of his priesthood taking a backseat to the preaching — I don’t think it served him well. I don’t think he was ever as free as these stable, committed monks, and frankly, I felt heartbroken for him.

Let us give thanks to God for the witness of his martyrs, who demonstrate to us so clearly that a life of simplicity, stability, prayer and togetherness — all rooted in the love of Jesus Christ, who is the All-in-All — brings forth the depth of reality that is within the mystery, and reveals God to us in myriad ways as we learn what it is to be free.

And let us sincerely pray for John Corapi, who truly seems imprisoned by that rather creepy-eyed creature at the base of his video, and who needs to find that freedom.

More on Of Gods and Men, and Stablity at Sister Laurel’s page

Also, I think I now must get to know these monks better, through this book

UPDATED:
In his homily for this week, Deacon Greg finds stability in the seed-sowing parable

It happens again and again in our history – from St. Paul to St. Augustine to St. Ignatius to Dorothy Day and beyond. The soil they sprang from wasn’t always ideal. We are a church of rocks, and thorns, besieged by birds – and yet, amid this vast and surprising garden, God’s smallest seeds find fertile ground. His Word takes root.

Which brings me to one other significant point in this parable. It bears remembering.
In this story, the sower doesn’t change. The seed doesn’t change.
What changes is the soil.
What changes are the conditions that allow the seed to be planted.
What changes is the environment that lets the seed bear fruit.
What changes, in fact…is us.

And we may never know where, or how, it will happen.

Christ does not change, but we do. God is not finished with any of us, yet.

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Conflicted about Corapi story – UPDATED

July 7, 2011 By Elizabeth Scalia

I mean, on one hand, I’m really tired of the story, but if I don’t link to the latest I’ll hear “so, the Black Sheepdog (people actually call him that) responded to SOLT, and you didn’t have the guts to link to him!”

And if I do link to him, I’ll hear, “why don’t you stop writing about Corapi and get a life?”

To me, the “special announcement” that was announced a few days ago and has finally dropped is a bit of a yawn-and-shrug; it seems more interesting for what it does not say, and does not address, than what it does.

But I have to be honest, I’m kind of bored to tears with all of this. I’d rather just go listen to this kid, again.

It occurs to me that when it comes to media stories, the worst thing is not to be bad or good, innocent or guilty, but to be boring. But maybe it’s only me. I do have a short attention span.

I’ll link Deacon Greg, who excerpts the latest without comment, and go make some meatloaf for supper.

Everyone managed to keep their heads last time out, and the comments were mostly well-done, so I’ll keep ‘em open this time, too!

UPDATE:
Some reactions:
Te Deum Blog: John Corapi’s “non serviam”:

Until there is another official statement from Church authorities on Fr. Corapi, I have no desire to feed the Black Sheep Dog with the attention he desires. I seriously doubt we are going to hear much out of him or the SOLT for a time anyway. It takes time to process paperwork, and that seems to be all that is left to do. I suspect he is going to shift his discussion away from all of this anyway, and into his chosen political sphere. I’d rather focus on God, not the Dog.

I’m in “ditto” mode on all that, especially the political note. I predicted early on in this melodrama that he was going to broaden his audience to attract tea partiers, etc, and he confirmed it when he became the “BSD” out to guard and feed “the entire world.”

Maybe the church got too small for him, and he is looking to fill Glenn Beck’s spot.

Sort of reminds me of Norma Desmond in Sunset Boulevard: “I AM big! It’s the picture’s that got small!”

Okay, joke aside, what does Corapi mean when he says, “I can not deny this desire to share aspects of Truth and Hope with all those willing to hear.”

Aspects of truth and hope? What is that? Picking and choosing? If you’re talking Christ as Truth, Christ as Hope, there are no “aspects” because Christ IS both truth and hope in totality.

Many others have noted that his statement doesn’t really address the bulk of SOLT’s last statement. I am a little amused that he characterizes their clear statement that they want his obedience as a “suggestion.”

“If I were to commit to the suggestion of the Society, then I would essentially crawl under a rock and wait to die.”

Well, not actually. You would be withdrawing into the desert with Christ. If that’s not an appealing choice, then why not just say you want to throw off the restraints of your priesthood and you know, get on with it?

UPDATE II:
An I support Bishop Mulvey page on Facebook. Dueling pages? I still say this whole thing is not going to end well.

Mark Shea: “This is why forgiveness is like quitting smoking…”

UPDATE III:
Deacon Greg’s quote of the day: from the Big Dog himself.
Gerard Nadal

UPDATE IV:
Max Lindenman: Corapi is John Galt

In his own mind, Corapi’s John Galt — the hyper-productive citizen who refuses to support a structure he sees as corrupt, effete, and worst of all, oppressive. He seems to want others to see him this way, too. He might not have cited his earning potential in the beginning, but when SOLT mentioned money and assets, it made up the meat of his retort

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Thoughtful pieces on Casey, Caylee, Corapi, Idols

July 7, 2011 By Elizabeth Scalia

Emails are coming in reporting a state of high tension on various Corapian threads, in anticipation of the Black Sheepdog’s “very special announcement” which is promised today.

You gotta give the Dog credit; he knows how to play to an audience and build up the suspense. I’m finding it kind of sad (and troubling) that so many people have made this one man such a huge part of their lives of faith.

And I am troubled, too, by our society’s seemingly endless appetite for high-drama and sensationalism — how so many are glued to their cable channels or their facebook pages, looking for something to become happy or hysterical about, as though we need the daily media-delivered drama in order to feel like we’re part of things, to feel like we’re real, anymore.

Or, for some, perhaps to feel anything at all.

I confess, I do not follow sensational court dramas. Fixing my attention on any sort of serial is difficult, whether it’s “Breaking Bad” or the OJ Trial; after a while I tire of the teasing manipulation that is meant to keep one coming back for more. And when it comes to stories of murdered, missing or abused children, I simply don’t go there, because I can’t handle it.

So, when I read an angry facebook post as the verdict broke: “Casey is not guilty, WTF?” I really wasn’t up on the details, and I’ve chosen not to read much about it. I think sometimes, we’re so trained by media that we forget we can choose not to follow a story. We can refuse to obediently fix our attention where directed, if we really want to.

Today, though, Timothy Dalrymple’s piece spoke to me, because it is such an honest attempt to understand those two great imponderables: face of evil and the mercy of God:

“. . .the really hard thing to explain was why the wicked prosper.

We wrestle a lot with: Why does God let bad things happen to good people? The ancients – who rarely saw people as truly good, in any case, but who saw plenty of instances of extraordinary wickedness – wrestled a lot with: Why does God let good things happen to bad people? We don’t seem to feel the pinch of this question today — except perhaps in moments like this, when the blood of the innocent cries out for justice.”

It is a good piece and I hope you’ll read it all, but there really is no mystery as to why the wicked prosper, at least not these days: they prosper because we are an idolatrous society that cannot get enough of whatever we have fixated on.

Max Lindenman (who has an additional perspective on the Corapi story here) looks at the high-anxiety of the self-described “Corapians” and wonders why the world loves a ham:

On meeting someone for the first time, I ask myself, “What are this person‘s ego needs? What does he want for himself?” One motive is simple curiosity; for most people, “I want“ and “I am“ are one and the same, or at least very close. Another motive is enlightened self-interest: knowing how to make a person happy means knowing how to make him like me. [. . .]

This, I think, goes a long way toward explaining the allure of the showboat evangelist. At some level, audiences recognize that he wants something. His goals may not be as venal as Corapi’s have turned out to be; he may simply crave applause, or enjoy the sound of his own voice. He may be after some wholly respectable reward, like the comfort that comes from connecting with — and belonging to — a great mass of people. Even when people aren’t consciously aware of the need, they respond to it — in the best cases by offering their hearts; in the worst, their money.


Well, that’s one theory. Another is, people want to see themselves and their thoughts reflected in an attractive, articulate, charismatic person, and when they find it, they feel a connection that is mostly an illusion, but which they want to be real; and they help the connection to become more real by making purchases, subscribing to newsletters and joining fan pages. It feels like being an insider, and most everyone wants to be an insider, somewhere, right?

I can’t help but think back to the days when I would be all-undone in anticipation of some news about Bobby Sherman or David Cassidy. My world turned on the good or the bad, to a very unhealthy degree, but then again, I was just a kid, and I wanted to feel like I belonged, too — like I had some special understanding of them and their lives. Like I was an insider.

When that desire for outside validation and for inclusion gets served, then we find our idols, and this is true in all spheres, entertainment, sports, politics and religion.

Maybe I’ve become a cynic — I probably am, and that is no good thing, because cynicism is too easy and it becomes it’s own kind of idolatry — but I just can’t get worked up about any public figure, these days. Even the pope, as much as I honor and revere him and frankly love his shy, avuncular style, doesn’t get me fluttered up with each pronouncement.

It could just be that I am cold-hearted, so I don’t want to gainsay others. But it still makes me sad to see people breathlessly awaiting anything — except, perhaps, an election outcome, either secular or sacred.

Related:
O Season of Idols
The Toxicity of Idolatry
Idols don’t like not being idolized

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Holy Women & Everyday Hero Priests -UPDATE

July 6, 2011 By Elizabeth Scalia

“The Church gives thanks for all the manifestations of the feminine genius which have appeared in the course of history, in the midst of all peoples and nations; she gives thanks for all the charisms that the Holy Spirit distributes to women in the history of the People of God, for all the victories which she owes to their faith, hope, and charity: she gives thanks for all the fruits of feminine holiness (n. 31).”—
Blessed Pope John Paul II in his Apostolic Letter Mulieris Dignitatem

Exciting news! The wonderful series of lessons on holy women of the church, which Pope Benedict gave last year at his weekly audiences, have arrived in book form, entitled simply, Holy Women!

Isn’t the cover beautiful? I can’t wait to get my hands on it! It was a great (and deeply humbling) joy to be present at the second part of his discussion on Hildegard of Bingen (part I here):

The popularity that surrounded Hildegard impelled many people to seek her advice. It is for this reason that we have so many of her letters at our disposal. Many male and female monastic communities turned to her, as well as Bishops and Abbots. And many of her answers still apply for us. For instance, Hildegard wrote these words to a community of women religious: “The spiritual life must be tended with great dedication. At first the effort is burdensome because it demands the renunciation of caprices of the pleasures of the flesh and of other such things. But if she lets herself be enthralled by holiness a holy soul will find even contempt for the world sweet and lovable. All that is needed is to take care that the soul does not shrivel”.

This book is a terrific companion to our holy father’s lessons on Great Teachers, which I enthused over here.

Beautiful, beautiful books! I know e-books are outselling hard copies, but I will never be able to give up books. Really, how can one read a book like this one without holding it in the hand, glorying in its artwork, peering into its marginalia and — yes — taking a big sniff of it?

Cleaning out my office this weekend, I noticed that my bookshelf has a lot of Benedict in it, and other great teachers, too, like G.K. Chesterton, Flannery O’ Connor, St. Augustine, St. Philip Neri, Mother Angelica — our faith is so very rich in teachers, both past and present! I was sad to read a comment in this post from someone wondering, “. . .where are we going to get that good preaching now that Corapi’s done?”

You can’t make a better start than with our good Pope Benedict XVI, who writes and preaches incessantly, and also with the classic teachers from down the ages; and you can get a lot of their material in free downloads, to build a fine Catholic library on the cheap.

And let’s not forget — as another commenter answered in that thread: “Frs. William Casey, Wade Menezes, Frank Pavone, John Riccardo, Robert Barron…” yeah, I’d add Fr. Dwight and all those lay preachers who hang with Scott Hahn.

There are plenty of great Catholic teachers around — some of them don’t even draw much attention to themselves, they just stay on message. Some of them work in your parish. Some great Catholic teachers live with you, or around you. Some of them are female, and teaching with the witness of their lives.

A nun friend of mine wrote to me recently: “People do not realize how much they have been formed by the media and the expectation that “True” Catholicism is to be “successful” and look good! I’m very, very leery of charismatic priests or teachers…”

I think there is some truth in that. Media — especially television — has gotten us very used to thinking that something is only valuable or worthwhile if it looks good, has high production values and delivers its message in a snazzy, entertaining way. But I always think back to Rumer Godden’s wonderful and instructive novel, In This House of Brede, in which a novice mistress tells her newbies:

“We don’t put much faith in ecstasies, here . . . the nun you see rapt away in church isn’t likely to be the holiest. The holiest one is probably the one you would never notice, because she is simply doing her duty.”

In my parish, we are very fortunate to have priests who bring the gospel every week, in their preaching — which may not always be “inspired” but is always true — in their reverent celebration of the mass, and in all of their encounters with the faithful. They’re by no means glamorous; they rarely make you want to spontaneously applaud their homilies (although that did happen, once). They’re just faithful men living out their callings, doing their duty, in season in out, when they’re sick and when they’re well — conferring the sacraments, leading Benediction, meeting with the grieving, or the joyful to plan a liturgy, anointing the sick, giving spiritual guidance, walking the outside parameter of the church in endless loops while saying a rosary (“I’m walking to Jerusalem!” one of them once greeted me). Nothing special or fascinating about these fellows.

They’re just everyday heroes, doing their duty, kind of like another great teacher, St. John Vianney.

For those who like to think in terms of troops and soldiers, these unremarkable, faithful servants are the guys — they’re on the front lines, every day, doing their duty, standing a watch, taking a lot of abuse from haters and know-nothings, and from some in their own congregations who don’t understand why they can’t be better, smarter, more charismatic. They suffer for the sins of the church; they pay for their otherness with a measure of loneliness and misunderstanding. They hardly ever get invited to supper, anywhere, and their intentions almost never get prayed for, because most of us are too busy either criticizing them or bringing our troubles to them.

Yet they keep at it, every single day: a life lived in service to the sacraments, in service to the sheep.

And we don’t thank them, enough.

Luckily for us, they don’t take on that duty in order to be thanked. Or even noticed, by anyone but God.

Fr. Dwight has more on priests

UPDATE: Deacon Greg on some even less obvious hero priests

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SOLT and Corapi – UPDATED

July 5, 2011 By Elizabeth Scalia

Well, after hanging back on this story in order to verify it, it does appear — via The SOLT’s own website — that the society did release a statement today that reads, in part:

As the Society was engaging [a fact-finding] team, Fr. Corapi filed a civil lawsuit against his principal accuser. He contended that she had defamed him and breached her contract. The contract, according to Corapi’s lawsuit, contained a provision binding the woman to silence about him. He offered the woman $100,000 to enter this agreement.

SOLT’s fact-finding team subsequently learned that Fr. Corapi may have negotiated contracts with other key witnesses that precluded them from speaking with SOLT’s fact-finding team. Many of these witnesses likely had key information about the accusations being investigated and declined to answer questions and provide documents.

When the fact-finding team asked Fr. Corapi to dismiss the lawsuit, to forbear from foreclosing his mortgage, and to release her and other individuals from their contractual obligations to remain silent about him, he refused to do so and, through his canonical advocate, stated: “It is not possible for Father Corapi to answer the Commission’s questions at this time.”

SOLT’s fact-finding team has acquired information from Fr. Corapi’s e-mails, various witnesses, and public sources that, together, state that, during his years of public ministry:

He did have sexual relations and years of cohabitation (in California and Montana) with a woman known to him, when the relationship began, as a prostitute; He repeatedly abused alcohol and drugs; He has recently engaged in sexting activity with one or more women in Montana; He holds legal title to over $1 million in real estate, numerous luxury vehicles, motorcycles, an ATV, a boat dock, and several motor boats, which is a serious violation of his promise of poverty as a perpetually professed member of the Society.

SOLT has contemporaneously with the issuance of this press release directed Fr. John Corapi, under obedience, to return home to the Society’s regional office and take up residence there. It has also ordered him, again under obedience, to dismiss the lawsuit he has filed against his accuser.

SOLT’s prior direction to Fr. John Corapi not to engage in any preaching or teaching, the celebration of the sacraments or other public ministry continues. Catholics should understand that SOLT does not consider Fr. John Corapi as fit for ministry.

Father Sheehan will not be available for comments as he is attending the SOLT General Chapter from July 5-23.

I frankly thought this thing was a hoax at first, and that Raymond Arroyo’s site had been hacked. Color me a skeptic, I am always leery of sensational things, and this is certainly sensational. Deacon Greg broke the news early and then — for the sake of fairness — pulled back, awaiting confirmation, which has now come from several credible sources (including one of my own sources at National Catholic Register), and which Catholic Radio host Al Kresta has also independently confirmed.

Why had we wondered, and sought verification? Because of the manner in which the SOLT put out their statement — they didn’t post it to their website — the thing was up elsewhere for hours before they finally got around to doing so.

The statement was a bomb, and they had to know it. Instead of owning it, SOLT tried to throw it discretely. But there are no discreet bombs.

What now? Well, SOLT says “with the issuance of this press release directed Fr. John Corapi, under obedience, to return home to the Society’s regional office and take up residence there. It has also ordered him, again under obedience, to dismiss the lawsuit he has filed against his accuser.”

Heh. Good luck. Corapi sent a letter to SOLT resigning from the Society on June 3rd. Perhaps they have not yet “accepted” that resignation, but it seems highly unlikely to me that John Corapi — who has rebranded himself as the “Black Sheepdog,” with the stated intention of broadening his public outreach in order to guard and feed “the entire world” is going to get back into his grey robes and live in community with his confreres.

But see, this was the problem, to begin with. Corapi’s bio stated that he was a “fully professed priest” with the SOLT, but apparently his profession did not involve a vow of poverty, and the society allowed him to live independently (which flies in the face of the whole notion of “community” and “society”) and to work without supervision or accountability.

Frankly, if John Corapi is in spiritual turmoil, right now — and if the statement is true, it would seem that he is — then this society, by their inattention to their “fully professed” priest, has some culpability for that.

Is the statement true? I know a lot of Corapi’s fans are insisting it “cannot be.” But of course, any man can sin; no one is perfect, save Christ (with whom, it must be admitted, a few of the self-proclaimed “Corapians” sometimes seem to confuse him). Since Corapi has amply demonstrated that he’s a man who is not afraid of bringing lawsuits, we can assume that SOLT has information which would prevent them from being sued for libel, and that they’ve dotted all their i’s and crossed their t’s.

If they have not (and nothing about this crew suggests that they are masters of organization, to me) the Black Sheepdog will eat them for breakfast, lunch and dinner.

More importantly, if the SOLT has the proof they assert, then John Corapi is in serious trouble and he needs prayers, as do his fans, and really, the whole church. A great deal of healing will have to take place. Writes Fr. Z:

Corapi has an immortal soul. He is need of a Savior just like the one writing this and you who are reading this. And I would remind you that you, dear reader, are not sinless and neither am I. Many people who admired Corapi will want to know what happens in his case, but I urge you to examine your consciences for your motives. Those who didn’t like him, consider first your own state of soul and God’s mercy. In any event, pray for him, who seems to be very troubled, and for all the people who have been harmed in the matter.

Why now? Well, the SOLT is trying to become a pontifical. Since Corapi has gone BSD, there has been a great deal of division. A bishop who is by all accounts a good shepherd has been slandered. Some of the faithful — in reality thousands, but not millions — are in turmoil. If SOLT wants to move from being a Society to a real order, it needs to take control of this destructive story — they couldn’t have it hanging out there, like laundry in the shade; they needed the story folded and put away. A couple of correspondents have speculated thusly:

The tone of the statement [by SOLT] is much testier, even angry, compared to the last, more pastoral one. The Black Sheepdog stuff just went a bridge too far, I think, and when you read over the comments there and elsewhere, it’s clear his “fans” had crossed the threshold into a cult. It must have galled [SOLT] that he kept apparently saying things that were untrue, and making the SOLT and Mulvey out to be the villains.

Perhaps. Who knows? As to Bishop Mulvey, another writes:

“Without any substantive proof that Bishop Mulvey had it in for the SOLT [as some Corapi fans allege] my approach is to follow CCC 2248 and interpret the bishop’s actions in the most favorable light. It’s just possible that he could later prove instrumental in saving SOLT.”

Again, perhaps.

My own feelings? The author of chaos is loving this story — the sower of all confusion and discord has been having a ball with it, setting Catholics against each other, encouraging paranoia, conspiracy theories, all manner of uncharitable behavior and hysteria. Christ is not in hysteria, and that should be the first clue that this is the devil’s own operation, regardless of where the sin began. I tried to stop writing about it after spending a little time in the muck of it and feeling spiritual oppression that was only lifted by going to Adoration, and praying before the Blessed Sacrament.

The story is not over, clearly. Pray for John Corapi. Pray for Bishop Mulvey. Pray for all priests. Pray for each other. Pray, pray, pray.

I’ll be updating with other links as I find them. For the time being comments will remain open, but as soon as people start opening their cans o’ crazy (and there has not been a Corapi thread yet, that hasn’t seen the cans shaken and then sprayed) I will close them, and all surrounding threads.

Everyone, keep your heads. When all is said and done, you know, God still wins. I read the book.

UPDATE: Fr. Dwight Longenecker, though not mentioning Corapi in this piece, says “Look for the Little Ones”

Where shall we find a holy person? Where shall we find a saint? It is difficult because the real saint is hidden and humble and holy. Instead of looking for the hidden holy ones we fall for the celebrity ‘saint’. We want the big dramatic conversion story. We want the dynamic, uncompromising speaker. We like the one who speaks out on sin and rails against the devil.

Do read it all! It’s very good.

Also, scroll down here for some thoughts on the heroism of workaday priests:

For those who like to think in terms of troops and soldiers, these unremarkable, faithful servants are the guys — they’re on the front lines, every day, doing their duty, standing a watch, taking a lot of abuse from haters and know-nothings, and from some in their own congregations who don’t understand why they can’t be better, smarter, more charismatic. They suffer for the sins of the church; they pay for their otherness with a measure of loneliness and misunderstanding. They hardly ever get invited to supper, anywhere, and their intentions almost never get prayed for, because most of us are too busy either criticizing them or bringing our troubles to them.

Yet they keep at it, every single day: a life lived in service to the sacraments, in service to the sheep.

And we don’t thank them, enough.

ALSO UPDATE: Also writing:
Mark Shea
Phil Lawler
Dr. Gerard Nadal
Abbey Roads
Jimmy Akin
Frank Weathers
Fr. Dwight Longenecker (breaking)
Creative Minority Report
Blogger Priest
Scott Dodge
Medley Minute
America Magazine

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The Neverending Story Corapi

June 28, 2011 By Elizabeth Scalia

The Te-Deum blog has a very good, very even-handed post on l’affair Corapi and most recent discussions on the case:

For many people, Fr. John Corapi’s recent decision to abandon public ministry as a priest, and the title, “father”, has been painful. There have been many misunderstandings about certain facts, and not all of the facts known to date have circulated. Here are two interviews – one in video form and the other in audio form. What is refreshing about these two interviews is that they discuss reported facts.

Both interviews touch on this area of his life with SOLT which is where much focus is taking place.

I’m pretty much done with the story until something new breaks — and that means this will very likely be my final post on the subject, because nothing new will break. The whole thing is at an impasse; Corapi has resigned from SOLT and the investigation has come to a complete halt. This is a story that is just going to hang, unresolved, forever, with Corapi singin’ the “I ain’t gonna lay down and die” blues while re-establishing his brand, others trying to figure out what his actual clerical status may be, and his die-hard fans screaming IN ALL CAPS at anyone who asks a fair question.

And perhaps Corapi prefers that it all remains unresolved. Aura of mystery, the glamor of being the black sheep. I could see that.

It is only because of the question of his clerical status — which still does matter — that I am linking to the well-done post at Te-Deum blog, where this comment caught my eye:

SOLT did not become a SAL until after Father had been a priest for a few years, so initially he would have had to be incardinated in a diocese. Bishop Gracida states Father never did any parish work in his diocese, while Father’s bio says he did.

The canons for SAL’s (731-755) require members to turn over any income from their ministry to the SAL, and to have some type of community life. Canon 754 does not seem to permit the SAL from giving faculties to a cleric that has lived outside of his community beyond a few years, requiring him to get his faculties from the bishop of the diocese where he resides.

What has not been stated is whether or not Father still had any faculties considering his extended period outside of the community. Therefore, was the process that was just getting started entirely to do with dismissal from SOLT vs. having anything to do with removal of his clerical status? As he resigned from SOLT, dismissal is moot. Since he is not a member of SOLT, he would have no faculties from them and would need to obtain faculties from Bishop Thomas of Helena if he had any desire to resume priestly ministry. There is no indication that he has done any public priestly ministry for some time. Bishop Thomas’ office seems to have made it clear that Father Corapi had no faculties in Helena. It seems unlikely he would seek them now, and I suspect Bishop Thomas might pursue having him laicized. If he did, it seems Father would not have much recourse after dropping his case and indicating that his ministry had little to do with faculties.

I know it’s been a long time since Corapi heard confessions or was seen celebrating a mass (I don’t think he ever did one for EWTN) so there is reason to believe he has been without faculties, anywhere, for a while. Perhaps, as indicated above, he’d lived apart for so long that SOLT no longer could incardinate him, and he never bothered to apply for incardination from the bishop in Helena.

If that is the case, it is certainly to Corapi’s credit that he did not offer mass or hear confessions, but he should have just been straight-up about it; in doing so he would have kept precisely these sort of questions at bay. I know his most ardent fans have no questions, but others do, and they are fair ones.

Perhaps Corapi really loves preaching and marketing, but doesn’t really want to be priest anymore, and if not, he should just say so, already.

It would, I think, help tamp down all the speculation, and also be a kindness to many of his fans who are upset about all the uncertainty feel a bit more secure…and calmer.

Speaking of calmness, I’m not even going to bother opening comments, and if people jump to other threads to post Corapi comments I’ll trash them. Everyone has more than had their say on this issue, and none of us actually knows anything new, so I’m not going to subject myself to the flings and arrows of Corapian Fanwrath when I can just re-read it on other threads.

The email I got the other day from one of them telling me I was “outside the church and condemned to hell” or whatever has more or less worn out my patience.

More thoughts here

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