Author: Pete Vere

UPDATED: Please give Terri a big hug from us

[Scroll down for the update]
Some sad news about Bob Schindler, one of the most decent Catholic gentlemen my family and I have even been blessed to call our friend. He passed away of a heart attack this past week. Most of you know Bob as a loving father who for years fought to save the life of his daughter Terri Schindler-Schiavo. When the state permitted the man to whom Terri was still legally married (despite the fact he was engaged to another woman) to take Terri’s life, Bob became a leading activist within the pro-life movement for people with disabilities.
Here is what Bobby Schindler, Jr., Bob’s son who is also a pro-life leader, shared about the passing of his father:
Statement from Bobby Schindler Regarding the Death of His Father, Robert Schindler

I am heartbroken over the loss of my father and yet I know at this moment he is rejoicing with my sister, Terri. My dad was a man of integrity, character and compassion who was blessed with a close and loving family. He taught all three of his children to respect and value life and to love our fellow man.
Even at the height of the battle to save my sister Terri’s life, when his patience and temperance was near exhaustion, he managed to display a gentleness of spirit. Yet it was his unfathomable strength that allowed him to shoulder up his own heartache and lead us through our darkest hour.
What greater legacy could a man leave behind?

I can understand your heartbreak, Bobby. Your father was a good man, as Sonya and I learned quickly when we joined your family on the picket line down in Florida. I will never forget Day 6 of the 2003 protest when, with Terri about to pass the point of no return, your father came over to offer us some cold drinks and Sonya a more comfortable seat.
Sonya was nine months pregnant with our second child, but she insisted we keep making the 90 minute trip each day. We asked him how he and Mary were doing.
“Worried,” he replied.
Sonya and I expressed our understanding and sympathy, that it might be too late for Terri.
“Yes, we’re worried about Terri,” Bob said. “But we’re worried about you, Sonya and the new baby too. Her due date is tomorrow, isn’t it? We will be praying for a safe delivery. Let us know if there is anything we can do for you, and make sure you let us as soon as the baby comes.”
I looked into his eyes. He was sincere. I was flabbergasted. His daughter was perilously close to being taken from him, he hadn’t slept in months, fifteen video cameras were stalking him at every second, and he was expressing concern for our little family who had come to support him.
As I struggled to make sense of this, he began to tell me about the birth of each of his children. It was then that I understood. He was a man who practiced what he preached, who was fighting not only for his daughter Terri, but for my daughter who would be born in coming days, for your daughter, for all of our children. I had known that he was sincere, that he wasn’t just show, but until that moment I had not realized the depth of his sincerity and love.
Sorry, the tears won’t allow me to go on much longer.
You’re a good man, Bob. You taught us all what a father’s love for his family really means. I pray you go strait to Heaven because you’ve done your Purgatory here on earth. And when you see Terri, please give her a hug from us.
Rest in the peace of Our Lord Jesus Christ, my friend.
***
UPDATE: Here is the original 2003 CL blog entry, written near the “hospice”, shortly after this discussion took place with Bob (Terri is doing fine, her parents are good people). For newer readers, Catholic Light was the main Catholic blog providing hospice-side updates in 2003 when the Florida judiciary ordered Terri Schindler-Schiavo’s feeding tube pulled. Here’s how I described our conversation then. I’m trying to read it myself but can’t get past the tears. It’s too much of a reminder of what a decent and loving father he was:

Terri’s parents are among the kindest and most decent people I have ever met. Before we left to return home, Terri’s father took us aside and asked if he could speak with us because he had heard from some of the nurses and paramedics at the vigil (the ones on our side) that Sonya looked like she was only a few days away from labor. He was concerned we might try and sneak up to the vigil between now and then.
To be honest, this wasn’t an unreal possibility since the hospital is about half-way between where we live and the hospice where Terri is staying. Nevertheless, Mr. Schindler said: “As a father, I’m here for my baby. We really appreciate your prayers and support, but you two need to be there for your baby now. We know you’re with us in prayer. But please come back with the baby as soon as you’re rested and able to travel.” I mention this because it is typical of the wisdom and compassion one finds with Terri’s parents. Even as they undergo such a tremendous cross, they show great consideration in generosity in wanting to make sure we weren’t neglecting our own family needs for the sake of theirs. Needless to say, we were stunned. “How could they even worry about us at a time like this?” Sonya asked. For my own part, I don’t think I could be this self-less if that was my daughter in the hospice. However, this is just one example that reveals the character of Terri’s family.

Thank-you, Bob.

Stephen King gets it? Does Fr. Alvaro?

Cassandra Jones posted a report of Fr. Alvaro’s homily at yesterday’s Legion of Christ professions in Cheshire. You can read Cassandra’s report here. Fr. Alvaro spent quite a bit of time asking for forgiveness, Cassandra states. But in reading over the report I keep asking myself Forgiveness for what?
Fr. Alvaro appears to allude to the Fr. Maciel scandal on several occasions. I say “appears to” because one is never entirely clear from reading Cassandra’s report that this is what the Legion’s Director General is referring to in sprinkling spiritual advice with mea culpas. As Cassandra’s source reports: “I wanted to know how the scandal would be handled, so that’s what I will emphasize. It was not mentioned directly at all, of course, but a lot of what Father Alvaro was saying seemed to relate to it very closely.” (Emphasis mine). For an order whose defenders were quite specific in denouncing their founder’s victims, “seemed to” is not enough.
Allow me to digress as I confess the following: I have a weakness for Stephen King. (Or in current Legion-speak, “The troubling imagination of a certain modern author has integrated itself into my personal library, which is kept separate from my professinal and spiritual library.”) Some of it goes back to my budding years as a writer, exploring Catholic themes through short horror stories. Some of it, I am sure, is due to the ministry God has called me to as a canon lawyer, which often deals with the darker aspects of man’s fallen nature.
Regardless, there’s a common discrepancy in Stephen King’s writing that I first noticed when reading Needful Things. It’s in the way he portrays clergy. Protestant clergy are generally nutty fundamentalists, no different than Hollywood’s usual stereotype. This contrasts with how King typically portrays Catholic clergy – conservative, heroic, dedicated to the welfare of their flock and of their community, and struggling to overcome one or two minor personal flaws. In short, King often portrays Catholic clergy both sympathetically and realistically as good ministers struggling to be saints.
What makes this fascinating is that King is not Catholic. He was raised by his mother, a strict Methodist who struggled as a single mother to hold the family together after King’s father walked out. It’s his wife Tabitha who is Catholic. Moreover, he disagrees strongly with the Church’s teaching on contraception, as he has made clear through both his fiction and non-fiction. Nevertheless, his fundamentalist protestant clergy tend to be one-dimensional fanatics (The Stand‘s Mother Abagail a noted exception), while his Catholic clergy tend to be multi-layered, reflective and human. The contrast becomes all the more fascinating when King’s Protestant and Catholic characters interact.
Which brings me back to Cassandra’s report about Fr. Alvaro’s homily yesterday. As I read through the report, wondering what Fr. Alvaro was asking forgiveness for, my mind wandered to an incident in one of King’s books. It begins with the child of a Bible fundamentalist doing something naughty to a Catholic neighbor. It might have been a rude insult or a small act of vandalism, and I think the book was The Regulators. I can’t recall the details and it’s been several years since I read it, so I apologize if I recall the story vaguely or incorrectly.
Yes, I apologize. Specifically, I apologize for my recollection that is not as specific as my apology. And this, according to King as he describes the incident, is what distinguishes devout Catholics from fundamentalist Protestants.
In the book, the child’s father frog-marches the kid before the victim of the child’s bad behavior. The child alludes to the wrong-doing, if I recall correctly, but doesn’t actually name it. The child beats himself up verbally, inviting the wronged party to follow up with a physical beating as the kid’s father watches on. What follows is my recollection of the passage.
The victim suppresses a smirk, looks down at the child, and says something along the lines of “I just want you to do one thing. Look me in the eyes and tell me what you did wrong.”
Upon hearing this, the child transforms from resigned and robotic to visibly uncomfortable. He begins to squirm and looks up at his father with a pitiful gaze. Father is as horrified as son and begins to protest as parent. Speaking through the voice of the narrator – or perhaps the child’s victim – King launches into a thought about how admitting to one’s wrong-doing is the worst form of punishment one can inflict upon a Christian fundamentalist, who sees no value in the sacrament of confession. On the other hand, Catholics understand that freedom from sin only comes when one lets it out by confessing to the wrong-doing. What an interesting insight from a writer of psychological horror.
In short, Stephen King gets it. He may not have been raised Catholic; his novels may be saturated with dark themes and four-letter words; he may lack the grace of holy orders, of advanced degrees in Catholic theology, of being the head of a large Catholic order – but in spending a lifetime observing and writing about the darker side of our fallen nature, he understands that forgiveness and healing are tied to a specific admission of one’s wrong-doing and guilt. So he gets it.
Here’s the question: Does Fr. Alvaro?

UPDATED: Jane is a meanie…

…if you’re thinking of recruiting young people into RC-sponsored apostolate without disclosing to their parents the current scandal surrounding Fr. Maciel. Earlier this week she asked a couple of good questions of a reader struggling with this issue:

A good question ask youself – why would you recruit people to something you cannot speak frankly about? That you feel has elements to it which you would like to keep hidden? [Emphasis mine]

This is a reminder that the best insights are often the most obvious ones. Christ declares in the Gospels that He is “The way, the truth, and the life,” while denouncing Satan as “the father of lies.”
Thus Christ’s mission is tied to truth. We neither serve Him nor build up His kingdom when we resort to lies, deceptions or half-truths. For the latter falls under the domain of the devil, as Christ clearly warns. So ask yourself this: Is this information you would conceal if you were recruiting for any non-LC/RC related apostolate? What if you were recruiting for your employment?
Given the context of this discussion, I find it ironic that even Fr. Maciel understood that lying is unacceptable to God and brings embarrassment upon the Church. As he himself states:

We should never lie for any reason whatsoever. It is a mortal sin when God is greatly offended by causing damage against religion, the Church or Authority, or when the name and good reputation of other people is considerably damaged… “Lips that lie are abhorrent to Yahweh” (Proverbs 12:22). (Bermuda 23 February 1962)

REM = Regnum Christi escaped musicians?

From a reader who wishes to remain anonymous because of his employment situation: “Pete – you picked the wrong REM song to describe the movement. Try ‘Losing my Religion’.” (See What’s the frequency, Alvaro?)
Hmmm….now that you mention it, other REM favorites include: Shiny Happy People, The End of the World, Everybody Hurts, I Took Your Name, Bang and Blame (particularly the verse “The whole world hinges on your swings/ Your secret life of indiscreet discretions”), I Believe, Just a Touch, and Imitation of Life.
I think I detect a pattern. Fables of the Reconstruction, Reconstruction of the Fables, Life’s Rich Pageant, Monster, Up, Reveal – even their album titles seem a tad suspicious. And they were formed in Georgia, within driving distance of Atlanta. Not to mention that Michael Stipe’s outfit in this video bears similarities to clerical garb:

RETROSPECT: Gerald Renner answers Fr. Bannon

Information surfacing about the life of Fr. Marcial Maciel, founder of the Legionaries of Christ and Regnum Christi, has forced many to view Fr. Maciel’s writings in a new light. I think this is a good thing. However, let’s not forget those who worked tirelessly for years to bring these allegations to light. Many of these folks were dismissed by Orthodox Catholics as anti-Catholic media bearing a hidden agenda.
Like the police now kicking themselves over the missed opportunity three years ago to rescue Jaycee Lee Dugard, we as orthodox Catholics need to look at why we missed the opportunity during the Boston fallout to investigate the accusations against Fr. Maciel.
With that in mind, and surprised by Jose Bonilla’s allegation that Legion superiors have known about Fr. Maciel’s children for 15 years, I’m re-reading this article written by Gerald Renner in 2000. Renner is the Hartford Courant reporter who worked closely with Jason Berry to give voice to Fr. Maciel’s victims. His article is a response to the Legion’s following open letter dismissing his investigative reporting into the Legion.
Here are some passages from Renner’s letter that in retrospect take on new meaning, in my opinion. I’ve bolded certain parts that really stood out to me:

I was told I had to seek the permission of the national director, Fr. Anthony Bannon, to write anything. But he was never available, despite calls I made to him over the course of several years. I even visited the seminary personally one day to the consternation of the seminarian-receptionist and was again told I had to talk to Fr. Bannon.
Finally, one day in 1993, Fr. Bannon himself happened to pick up the phone when I called. He told me in no uncertain terms the order did not want any publicity and that he did not trust the press. The only way he would provide information for an article, he said, if he had the right to review it after it was written, something that is journalistically unacceptable.

Which raises the question: Did Fr. Bannon know anything at the time? If so, what? For an order this focused on recruitment and building the Kingdom, why would they shy away from free publicity? As Renner muses later on the piece, “Yet, the order wonders aloud in its open letter why it’s called secretive.”
Here’s another passage that I read differently now in retrospect:

I got a call from a man who said he had been a seminarian in the Legion at Cheshire and in a satellite seminary the Legion ran near Mount Kisco, N.Y. He said he and another novice had fled from the seminary without permission when their religious superiors kept rebuffing their pleas to leave.
It was such a bizarre claim that I was skeptical. Was this a religious nut or what? But he sounded stable. We had a personal meeting, and he repeated his story convincingly. He put me in touch with three other former novices. Two of them said they had similar experiences of being psychologically coerced by overzealous religious superiors. The third, who had been in a Legion-operated seminary in Mexico said he had to beg for his passport and clothes to go home after being repeatedly rebuffed.
I turned to Fr. Bannon for response only to be told by his secretary that the Courant was only trying to stir up “scandal” and that he did not expect Fr. Bannon to respond. Only after the article appeared did Fr. Bannon send a statement denying the accusations. His statement was published in the Courant.

And let’s not forget this passage in which Renner explains why Maciel’s earliest victims, like Jaycee Lee Dugard, didn’t avail themselves of an earlier opportunity to come forward: “But those making the accusations today were young boys in seminary in the late 1950s. They say they lied at the time to Vatican investigators to protect the man they called ‘Nuestro Padre.'”