Deliver Us From Evil: Rape, Cover-up, Corruption

This review was published originally on cinekklesia on June 10, 2007.

A while ago, I heard one of my relatives indicate that a Catholic priest who sexually molests children deserves a bullet in the head. At the time, this relative, herself a Roman Catholic (though clearly a jaded one), made what seemed to be a jarringly harsh comment. However, when we think about it in greater depth, we begin to understand—and, if we are honest, empathize with—her sentiment. We're talking about the rape of children, after all. Not just "inappropriate touching" or fondling, but actual rape of pre-teen boys and girls. Is not a bullet in the head a relatively light punishment for such a crime?

Such thoughts roiled around in my brain as I watched Amy Berg's Deliver Us From Evil (2006), an Oscar-nominated documentary about Oliver O'Grady, a former Catholic priest who was convicted of sexual molestation, served a measly seven years in a California prison, and was deported back to his native Ireland, where he now lives a relatively comfortable life of retirement. Berg's documentary consists of interviews with O'Grady himself, three of his victims (along with family members), lawyers, and others involved in the sordid state of affairs.

The movie is critical at two levels. The first level, of course, involves O'Grady himself, who had molested dozens of children (the youngest being nine-months-old) for years, while serving as a priest in several Northern California parishes. In his interview, he recalls how he didn't struggle with being sexually aroused by men or women, but he did struggle with such arousal when in the presence of children. He claims to have felt torn about his actions: he knew, in some sense, that he was doing something wrong, but he also didn't mean harm per se (his "affectionate" actions were even a sign of "love").

As such, O'Grady is sorry at some superficial level for what he had done, but one doesn't receive the impression that he understands, even in his older years, the gravity of his sin or the level of destruction he wrought on dozens of families. What is most infuriating about O'Grady's attitude is the relatively benign language he uses when discussing his actions. Let us not forget that he didn't just act inappropriately: he raped little children! He was a serial rapist, plain and simple. The fact that he raped kids while entrusted with an ecclesial position of authority makes his crimes all the more vicious (and the fact that he got off with such a light sentence all the more insulting to those who suffered so much).

The second level of Berg's criticism is lodged against the hierarchy of the Roman Catholic Church. Catholic leaders who knew of O'Grady's pedophilia did nothing substantive to stop him: they simply transferred him from parish to parish, which, of course, allowed him to rape different children in different parts of Northern California. In particular, Cardinal Roger Mahoney is criticized as one almost singularly concerned with maintaining institutional stability, rather than holding priests accountable.

Of course, those who defend the Catholic Church would say that Berg's analysis is one-sided and that she clearly had a bone to pick with Mahoney et al. (The Catholic Church refused to be interviewed for this project.) However, her movie is simply one more document in a large stack of evidence regarding the number of pedophiles who have worn the clerical collar and a bureaucratic regime that simply does not care about the rape of children. That last phrase may seem harsh, but one cannot conclude otherwise when the Church's "punishment" for pedophiles had been simple job transfers and when it consistently has tried to treat the scandal as primarily a public-relations problem.

As if covering up rape were not bad enough, the Catholic Church's handling of the crisis also demonstrates an utter disregard for the spiritual health of its followers. The fact that (a) a priest raped children and got away with it for years and (b) his superiors were ultimately indifferent to the crimes obviously does not provide encouragement to the faithful. How can an institution that claims to preach the Gospel of Jesus Christ expect to be taken seriously when its own house festers with the stench of pedophilia? (By the way, in case anyone missed that class at seminary: evangelizing and discipling does not involve sodomizing children.)

Of course, the Catholic Church is not alone in harboring villains, and there is plenty of sexual sin, corruption, and abuse of power within Protestant churches. However, because the Roman Catholic Church is, by design, a monolithic/bureaucratic organization, it is simply ill-equipped to deal with sin of this magnitude. In many respects, priests, bishops, and cardinals are simply bureaucrats—with the Pope serving as "Head of State"—and bureaucracies are not known for accountability, innovation, or quick response. Those who work in large bureaucracies tend to see their entire careers—and, in the case of Catholic priests, their entire lives—as wrapped up in the stability of the organization; thus, to question one's employer, to "rock the boat" and demand accountability (repentance?) is to risk destroying the foundation of one's entire existence.

So what should be done with clerical pedophiles? It's simple, really. Those found guilty of "inappropriately touching" or raping children should lose their jobs and should be barred from all ministerial positions for the rest of their lives. Period. No excuses. No exceptions. Church leaders and administrators who are found guilty of having knowledge of sexual molestation and of doing nothing substantive to intervene also should lose their jobs and should be barred from all future ministry. Anything less is administratively incompetent and morally reprehensible.