Christ – Page 17 – Catholic Light

On contacting victims – Is this how a family treats its children?

When news of Maciel’s daughter first went public back in February, many LC/RC defenders likened the situation to a family discovering their father had kept a second family on the side. I can both understand and appreciate this analogy. In fact, it was the first thing that came to mind as I read the following email from a reader (rewritten slightly to disguise the correspondent’s writing style):

I asked my RC director if the General Director had contacted the original eight victims. She said she didn’t know, but asked me why I assumed Fr. Alvaro was speaking about the original eight accusers. She said there are victims still in the LC who are coming forward, and that Fr. Alvaro, because he is General Director, will take care of victims within the LC family first and those on the outside later. This is just like a father would take care of those kids in his family first if there was an issue, my director said. This did not sit well with me. What are your thoughts on this?

Let’s suppose you’re the mother in the analogy used by the Legion back in February. Let’s suppose you just discovered that your deceased husband had abused your children and made your family do without while supporting a mistress in the next town, that he had lied to you when some of your children approached you to complain about the abuse, and that he had deceived you into disowning them and turning them away from your doorsteps.
Would you only look after the children who remained in your household? Or would you, as a mother, seek out your estranged children – those who ran away or who you threw out of the house – because they had tried to make you aware of the abuse and you didn’t want to believe them? And would you threaten any child in your household who sought out his or her estranged brothers and sisters, in order to apologize and repair the fraternal relationship?
One’s children remain one’s children, even when they find themselves estranged from their family.

Losing my vocation

One topic that keeps resurfacing in LC/RC discussion is the pressure families feel to recruit, join Regnum Christi (RC), and ship their children off to Legion of Christ (LC) schools. Vocations are fragile – that’s the justification often expressed – and must be sheltered and protected from the world, where too many temptations abound. The implication being as follows: Not to ship off one’s child to these spiritual bomb-shelters is to endanger one’s child and his vocation.
This begs a few questions. For example, where are LC priests and RC lay consecrated suppose to minister once they emerge from their spiritual cocoons? As St. John Chrysostom teaches, monastic life and parish priesthood are both pleasing to the Lord, but they require different training.
The RC/LC are often compared to Opus Dei, which came into being around the same time. Both projects were founded by young Spanish-speaking priests during a tumultuous time in their national history, when the Church was under persecution. Both drew Catholics looking for a more fervent expression of the faith.
Having said that, here are some notable differences. St. Josemaria Escriva always saw Opus Dei as an apostolate of Christ embracing the world. Subsequently, Opus Dei members interact with the world quite a bit through social activities, education and the pursuit of professional practice and credentials. Rather than ship teenage boys off to apostolic schools, these young men are encouraged to pursue spiritual and academic excellence, to develop a trade or profession toward which they are suited, and to be active in the world.
There’s no pressure to join Opus Dei as a numerary or supernumerary. The vast majority of people I have encountered at Opus Dei events are cooperators – that is, non-members who support Opus Dei’s work but who do not feel called to membership. They participate in some spiritual and social activities, insofar as they feel called and find time to do so.
And Opus Dei is happy with that. They understand that a vocation to numerary or supernumerary is a calling from God that needs to be discerned carefully through prayer and contemplation. So Opus Dei’s usual reaction when someone wishes to become a cooperator, numerary or supernumerary, is to tell the individual to slow down and take time for discernment before Our Lord.
Yet what about priestly vocations? Some priests discern a vocation to Opus Dei having already been ordained, but the majority are called from the ranks of numeraries – that is, the celibate male members. Most of these individuals are well-established in professional careers as doctors, lawyers, engineers, accountants, business professionals, university professors, etc. In other words, they’re out there in the world, interacting with other people, living in the world, conversant of the world, but not of the world, yet attempting to embrace the world as Christ embraced the world from the cross. Far from being sheltered throughout most of their lives, Opus Dei seminarians enter their seminary formation with proven track-records as spiritual and professional leaders.
This may seem risky to those more familiar with the LC/RC model. To become a priest with Opus Dei, a young man must first finish his schooling, which often involves attending secular schools and universities, then he must practice his profession for some time – all while discerning a lay vocation with the Work. Then he must continue to practice his profession as a member of the movement, while simultaneously taking on leadership positions within the movement. Once he is established in his prayer life, his professional career and his Opus Dei apostolate – and only then! – does he begin to discern the call to holy orders. Which requires more prayer and discernment before Opus Dei ships him off for seminary formation.
So many steps before he even starts his seminary formation! So many potential roadblocks, distraction and temptations. How could a young man possibly make it to priesthood without losing his vocation?
Well… let’s see what the numbers say. The LC/RC boast 800 priests, 2,500 seminarians and 75,000 lay members of Regnum Christi. In comparison, Opus Dei’s numbers are as follows: 1,900 priests and 85,000 lay members.
If priestly vocations are so fragile that they must be sheltered from the world – sheltered even from good Catholic parents and the family structure, as reportedly happens with the Legion’s apostolic schools – how does one account for the fact that Opus Dei has over twice the number of priests as the Legion? Both movements were founded around the same time under similar external circumstances, both appeal to a similar audience, but Opus Dei sends its young men out into the world to live as laymen before calling them back to priesthood, whereas the Legion – like the fearful servant in the Gospel – buries its talents in a field, away from human eyes.
And I’m not even commenting upon the quality or durability of vocation. Opus Dei has one of the lowest defection rates in the Church. Once ordained a priest with Opus Dei, you will probably remain a priest with Opus Dei until you die. On the other hand, nobody quite knows the defection rate for LC clergy – and of the dozen or so English-speaking bloggers who regularly comment on the LC/RC scandal, FOUR are former LC/RC clergy. And this doesn’t include numerous readers commenting on the blogs – some now professed atheists – who introduce themselves as former Legion clergy or seminarians.
So remember St. John Chrysostom’s advice to parents (and as a saint, doctor and father of the Church, his means have been tested throughout the centuries and found credible): you are raising children, not monks. If God has a vocation for your children, whether it be priest or monk, He will call them when the time is right.

Speak up! It’s your responsibility as parent, not the Legion’s

Over at Life After RC, reader MnM raises several concerns about Fr. Maciel and the Legion, how children were victimized by him, questioning why the Holy See didn’t intervene in 2006 with an apostolic visitation when children were potentially at risk. After a little back-and-forth, MnM states that he/she is fearful about speaking out publicly because:

My four children attend an LC school. They range in age from PreK to 8th grade. All LC schools require that the children and their parents sign a contract which gives them power to expel the children on the basis of unfavourable behavior from either the children or the parents. The [powers that be] have an immense amount of power and will not hesitate to use it against dissenters.

I’m not here to pick on MnM. As a parent myself who has been involved with movements that ran astray from the Church, I completely understand what MnM is going through. Additionally, I have heard from other parents going through the same thing, parents who re-enrolled their children thinking Fr. Maciel had fathered only one daughter, but who after a summer of reflection and revelation are now questioning their decision to re-enroll their children in LC/RC schools.
I’m not going to tell you whether to do so or not. Only you as the parent know what is best for your children. That’s up to you to discern with God and your spouse, and to make the decision that is best for your child(ren).
However, you should never fear expressing your concerns to your child’s educators. Both the Catechism of the Catholic Church and the Code of Canon Law are clear: parents are the primary educators of their children. This means exactly what it says: the responsibility for your child’s Christian education falls primarily on your shoulders as parents. Therefore, as a Catholic parent, you have both the RIGHT and the OBLIGATION before God to ask questions and demand answers from those who YOU entrust with your child’s education. If you think your children’s Catholic education may be compromised, then you have the same RIGHT and an OBLIGATION before God to act in your child’s best interest.
You assumed this obligation when you chose the vocation of marriage and parent. To validly marry, canon 1055 states a potential spouse must be open to the “procreation and education of children.” As an ecclesiastical judge, I have judged marriages invalid where a spouse was open to the procreation part, but could care less about the child’s upbringing, saying to the other parent: “You wanted the children, you look after them.”
Therefore, if you fear speaking up about matters that concern your child’s education, and if that fear silences you, then you are not living up to your responsibilities of the vocation you chose before God. It’s that simple. You’re not living up to your marriage vows. It is your duty as parent to make the primary decisions about your child’s education. And it’s up to you to act, if you believe your role as parent and primary educator is not being respected or is being undermined.

German RC territory follows U.S. letter to members (UPDATED)

This letter from the German RC territorial director just appeared in the German edition of Zenit. It is similar to the one released in the U.S. My German is about as good as my Spanish, so I won’t attempt a full German translation, but you can read it here). A babelfish translation shows the letter following the same general chronology of talking points as the U.S. letter.
Could any of our German-speaking readers confirm?
[UPDATE from Richard: I’ve drafted a translation and taken the liberty of adding it here:]

UPDATE: Who were Maciel’s first victims?

[UPDATE: On an interesting – but not as serious – side-note, Berry and Renner confirm that St. Rafael Guiza was among portly saints canonized by the Church. He reportedly struggled with obesity and diabetes, which I find interesting given last week’s discussion on how one rarely encounters portly priests in the Legion (click here).]
Initial Entry
I picked up Jason Berry and Gerald Renner’s Vows of Silence tonight (click here for the DVD with the same name, which includes a Spanish version), after RC Is Not My Life asked me to check the Jesuit connection to Fr. Maciel’s expulsion from the second seminary he attended. It seems that Maciel wasn’t just paranoid – the Jesuits were suspicious of Maciel and the Legion. Berry and Renner report that the Jesuits from the beginning suspected his sexual proclivities.
Yet what caught my eye in re-reading their chapter on Maciel’s seminary days was his expulsion from his uncle’s seminary, the first seminary Maciel attended. Particularly how it relates to the death of St. Rafael Guizar Valencia, who was Maciel’s uncle, sponsoring bishop and rector of the first seminary Maciel attended. Maciel always claimed expulsion due to a “misunderstanding” after his saintly uncle’s death. Berry and Renner explore the alleged misunderstanding, shedding the following light (carefully footnoted) on page 155:

Bishop Guizar died on June 6, 1938. The Legion history says that “misunderstandings” arose. “Marcial had to leave the seminary.” [LC priest and biographer Fr. J. Alberto] Villasana reports that two months after the “holy death” of his uncle, “the vicar-general of the vacant see and the new provisional rector expel from the seminary ‘the Bishop’s spoiled nephew who is planning a foundation‘”–a religious order. The italics are Villasana’s; the quotation is clearly Maciel’s interpretation of what the two churchmen of his uncle’s diocese thought of him. The self-absorbed Maciel misses the implication of two church superiors, in a persecuted land, washing their hands of a seminarian from an influential family. “Spoiled” begs the larger question: what in his character made them recoil?
An even darker explanation may underlie the expulsion. The day before Bishop Guizar died, he had been heard shouting angrily at Maciel. He was giving his eighteen-year-old nephew a dressing down after two women had come to the bishop’s house to complain about Maciel, who was their neighbor. Father Orozco, who was among the original group of boys to found the Legion of Christ in 1941, said he heard the women had complained about the “noise” Maciel was making with children he had brought into his home to teach religion. He said that the seminary officials blamed Maciel for his uncle’s heart attack.

Berry and Renner are careful in their presentation of the alleged incident. They don’t accuse Maciel of molesting children or indirectly causing his uncle’s death. Rather they present the testimony of someone who was present, noting unusual circumstances, and leave us to draw our own conclusions. But given what we now know of Maciel’s double-life, along with what we know about St. Rafael as a holy bishop who sought always what was right in the eyes of God despite the persecution he would suffer, I think we can conclude fairly that this incident concerned more than a mere “misunderstanding”.
As Berry and Renner point out in subsequent passages, the Catholic Church in Mexico was undergoing a severe persecution. The Church was starving for priests. Maciel was from an influential Church family that included two bishops. Yet as Berry and Renner state, two church superiors nevertheless expelled Maciel from his uncle’s seminary.
But let’s look at this from the perspective of other parties who were present. What would compel two church ladies – who, in allowing their children to be catechized during a time of persecution, were likely risking their lives and the physical welfare of their children – to come forward and denounce the seminarian nephew of a bishop much beloved by the Catholic faithful?
One might argue they were anti-Catholic agents who were trying to bring embarrassment upon the Church, but this doesn’t fit the circumstances. First, they approached St. Rafael with their allegations, rather than civil authorities who were looking for any stick with which to beat the Church. Second, St. Rafael acted on their complain, jacking up his nephew in anger. What would compel this holy man of God to tear down his own flesh and blood seeking to follow in his footsteps unless he found the women and/or their allegations credible?
So once again we find Maciel’s life as murky as his sexual proclivities. Which begs the question, who were Maciel’s first victims?