The Rest of the Story: Hope Springs Eternal in the Priestly Breast
. . . These writers of just and merciful Catholic conscience have made me proud to be a priest, and have given meaning to the suffering inherent in 18 years of wrongful imprisonment. Our reluctant Catholic press would do well to put aside its "Father Maciel Syndrome," and follow their lead to cover this story. And then, there is you. Yes, I do mean you, for if you are reading this you have lent to your Church and faith a courageous ear, and the tools for spreading the rest of the story. If you have been reading These Stone Walls then you have demonstrated for me and the whole Body of Christ something that has been sorely lacking in this decade of scandal: hearts of courage and justice open to the whole truth, and not just the one-sided scarlet letter with which our scandal driven news media and special interest groups have labeled your Church. Fr. James Valladares and David F. Pierre have told the rest of the story. . . .
Saint Patrick and the Labyrinthine Ways
. . . The story of St. Patrick of Ireland is a perfect example of the gravity of grace. We tend to reduce Saint Patrick to the whimsical Shepherd of Ireland who inspires our parades (and maybe a snort or two of Jameson's) this week, but the life of the real Saint Patrick is one of terrible tragedy responded to with the courage born of sanctifying grace. Stepping for a moment into the life and lore of Saint Patrick of Ireland will help us see more clearly these labyrinthine ways of grace. Whether you're Irish or not - and whether you're Catholic or not - the story of Saint Patrick is one of profound struggle against the forces of human evil, tragedy, and salvation against the tides of human history. . . .
When Priests Are Falsely Accused Part 3: The High Cost of Innocence
. . . It's ironic that this same priest is often angry with me because he doesn't think I am angry enough. I assure you, he's wrong on that score. But being angry and feeling let down does not excuse me from doing the right thing. It does not excuse me from fidelity to the Gospel, fidelity to the Church, and fidelity to my own sense of right and wrong. At the end of the day, I am still wrongly imprisoned, but I have the freedom to choose the person I'm going to be while wrongly imprisoned. When I began this three-part post three weeks ago, I set out to write the nature and scope of the injustices that took place in my diocese. Now that it comes down to it, I can't. It feels too much like vengeance. There is far too much at stake for me to settle for something so unfaithful as vengeance. . . .