Tag: Regnum

Fr. Neuhaus – from apologist to prophet

A quick blog entry while on lunch break. Over at ExLC, readers are discussing the Holy See’s 2006 communique “inviting” Fr. Maciel to retire to a life of prayer and penance. (Also posted is a youtube of a recent 40 minute CNN Spanish edition interview with the lawyer representing three of Fr. Maciel’s alleged children.)
Says first anonymous reader: “If it was a suspension, why didn’t they just make that clear? Why leave it open to spin by the LC? And who the hell tacked on the ‘Apart from the founder’ clause? That has caused more confusion than anything the LC could have done.”
“I hope a canonist could help us,” adds a second commentator.
Around the time the communique was published, one of the best explanations came from Fr. Richard John Neuhaus. This is ironic given that up until its appearance Fr. Neuhaus had been one of Fr. Maciel and the Legion’s most able defenders. Father even goes so far as to employ the expression “moral certitude” in his belief of Maciel’s innocence.
Nevertheless, Fr. Neuhaus is an honest man. And thus he is forced to admit in the August/September 2006 edition of The Public Square:

I do not know all that the CDF and the Holy Father know and am not privy to the considerations that led to their decision. It is reasonable to believe that they concluded that Fr. Maciel did do something very seriously wrong. To censure publicly, toward the end of his life, the founder of a large and growing religious community is an extraordinary, perhaps unprecedented, measure in Catholic history. Moreover, because the only public and actionable charges against Fr. Maciel had to do with sexual abuse, the clear implication is that that was the reason for the censure. In view of the public knowledge of the charges, it is not plausible that he was censured for some other and unknown reason.

Now Fr. Neuhaus still did not believe Fr.Maciel’s accusers. But it’s clear he believes Fr. Maciel was guilty of some serious violation of the Sixth Commandment. It’s also clear that Fr. Neuhaus had stopped believing the Legion’s version of the story, and he expresses some discomfort with the Legion’s immediate response comparing Maciel’s suffering to that suffered by Christ on the cross.
What I found most prescient, however, are Fr. Neuhaus’s comments about the Legion’s charism in light of the Holy See’s request that the Legion separate its work from the founder.

Now comes a time of daunting challenges for the Legionaries of Christ. At the highest level of the Church’s leadership, a deep shadow has been cast over their founder. In view of his age and the way the decision was made, it is almost certain that the shadow will not be lifted in his lifetime, if ever. In the historical experience of religious orders, the founder and the charism-meaning the distinctive spirituality by which the community is formed–cannot be easily separated. The Legion has been particularly intense in its devotion to its founder, who has been revered as a living saint. It is understandable that Legionaries who have known Fr. Maciel for many years simply cannot bring themselves to believe that he is guilty of the charges that have been brought against him. Whether misplaced or not, such devotion is not untouched by honor and faithfulness to a father and friend. But, in the future of the Legion and Regnum Christi, belief in the innocence of Fr. Maciel cannot be made an article of faith.
Nor is it helpful to speak of the Holy See’s decision as yet another cross imposed on Fr. Maciel and the Legion. A “cross” may mean any burden to be borne, but, in this context, “bearing the cross” clearly suggests a wrong or injustice. The cross imposed on Christ was unjustly imposed. To continue to speak of the censure as a cross imposed could have the effect of putting the Legion on a collision course with the papacy. At the heart of the congregation’s charism is wholehearted adherence to the ministry of Peter among us. The leadership of the Legion has unambiguously reaffirmed that adherence in a private audience with the pope following the censure of Fr. Maciel.
[…]
The future of the Legion and Regnum Christi cannot depend on the innocence or guilt of Fr. Maciel. Founder and charism may not be entirely separable, but they can be clearly distinguished.

In short, Pope Benedict XVI’s 2006 invitation to separate themselves from the life of their founder was a test of the Legion’s charism. Had they trusted the Holy See and done so, in spirit and in law, their charism would have emerged after much needed internal reform. However, Legion superiors continued to yoke the movement to Fr. Maciel, despite the Holy See’s recommendation they do otherwise. My apologies for the mixed metaphor, but that yoke has now become a giant millstone around their necks. The only way to stop sinking is to remove this millstone

Why Mama Maurita is part of the story

In her inaugural post, RC Is Not My Life responds to my last entry about Fr. Maciel making special exceptions for his mother (Mama Maurita). Here’s what RC Is Not My Life says:

At first I thought, you know, let’s leave Mama Maurita out of this. But then reading the post later it just dawned on me the number of cases of favoritism I saw in the Legion. The Mama Maurita exception, while problematic, was just the tip of the iceberg.
And just like that, as instantaneously as I came under their spell, the scales came falling off of my eyes. I woke up. I could see the Legion for what they were. And then my entire life came crashing down. So many questions. So many red flags I did not see.

I totally understand where RC Is Not My Life is coming from. Initially, I too debated whether to drag Mama Maurita’s name into the debate over Fr. Maciel. While many wonder whether she is material for sainthood, nobody seems to question that she was a devout Catholic woman. Is it her fault that her son grew into a fraud and a pervert?
Probably not. However, Mama Maurita is part of the story. Not because she gave birth to Maciel, but because he and the Legion’s public relations machine have dragged her into the story, much like they did Pope John Paul II. Fr. Maciel’s critics may have raised her name in the most recent debate, but this is long after Legion sources used pseudo-messianic language to put forward her cause for beatification (click here). That and much of what we thought we knew about Mama Maurita comes from Fr. Maciel – a man who lied about his priesthood, his dedication to God, and possibly his mother. So she is now part of the story. And Catholics looking at her beatification process are trying to sift fact from fiction.
This is the spiritual legacy of Fr. Maciel’s spiritual deception. And by covering up the deception – and not being more forthcoming with the truth and an apology to the founder’s victims – those closest to the founder find their reputations singed by his deception. It’s not unlike what happened with former U.S. president Bill Clinton during the Monica Lewinski scandal.
Clinton survived with his presidency tarnished, but still intact. However, his sexual escapades and subsequent coverup destroying the presidential aspirations of his closest advisers. Just ask Al Gore and Hillary. Despite not having participated in the adulterous act, they got pulled into the scandal when the president was less-than-forthcoming about the truth. Clinton survived the scandal by crippling future presidential runs of his wife and his vice-president. They took the fall, not for Clinton’s illicit sex, but for the subsequent coverup.
This is similar to what’s happening with those close to Fr. Maciel. In not being more forthcoming with information, in allowing Catholics to discover what’s happening through the secular media rather than Church sources, Fathers Corcuera, Garza, Álvarez and others at the top now become part Fr. Maciel’s story.

Making fog, not war!

A young army captain ordered his training platoon to march 25 miles, shouldering full fighting gear and 100-pound rucksacks, on a blistering summer day. His commanding officer looked at him and said: “You’re marching with them.”
The commanding officer had little patience for officers who failed to appreciate the burdens of the average soldier under one’s command.
Which brings me to the Legion and its reported communication strategy of pray, pay and ignore the media. The media fog created by those in charge may help them avoid uncomfortable questions in the immediate aftermath; however, it’s a poor long-term strategy. It ignores the reality by which most rank-and-file RC members live – especially when these members are also being pressured to meet increased fundraising and recruiting goals. Where do Regnum Christi (RC) members recruit and fundraise? Well, from orthodox Catholics who are asking serious questions about the allegations, and who are appalled by the Legion’s vague answers.
Nor is it the reality lived by LC priests and RC consecrated RC on the ground – those who rub shoulders regularly with people outside the movement. And thus, like soldiers stranded in the battlefield, they begin making decisions that allow them to get by in the real world, ignoring the unrealistic orders of superiors. This is where the fog of war sets in.
It’s easier to coordinate a battle plan if you have clear chains of command leading up to one person. When you have lots of small groups making decisions on their own, the goal of each being simple survival rather than winning the war, confusion sets in. One group’s method of survival may contradict the next group, thus giving birth to conflict among those on the same side..
Why do I mention this? Well, if recent rumors are true, we are now seeing this happen in the LC/RC.
Late last week Fr. Maciel apologist (and Catholic.net founder) Lucrecia Rego, a high-profile RC member in Mexico, published a blog highly critical of those who believe and discuss the allegations against Fr. Maciel. You can read her blog entry here, in which she makes clear in her response to readers that she is defending Fr. Maciel. The Spanish version of Catholic.net also ran Lucrecia’s apologia here, which makes me believe that the LC/RC-affiliated Catholic.net is standing by Fr. Maciel. (Although I’m curious to see whether its English counterpart will run a translation.)
My Spanish isn’t strong, but Lucrecia’s argument seems to be that we cannot trust the allegations against Fr. Maciel unless we ourselves witnessed his heinous acts. To do otherwise is to gossip and backbite. Moreover, Lucrecia questions the existence of Fr. Maciel’s daughter. Okay, most of this has been standard Legion response thus far.
Except that Legion critics are now receiving reports of a different approach in the RC’s highly active Atlanta section. Reportedly, Fr. Maciel has been denounced there as “pure evil”. Giselle has the preliminary report here. If this report is true, then it suggests the chains of command are breaking down within the movement.
It’s no secret that American members have been the most critical of Fr. Maciel, as well as the Legion’s handling of this crisis, while the Mexicans have been the most supportive (although that too appears to be breaking down, judging from Lucrecia’s complaint that fellow Mexican RC are believing the allegations, and the fact Lucrecia felt the need to respond publicly). What we have here are two responses from LC/RC sources, each contradicting the other in order to appeal to their particular segment of the RC population. In short, it’s a matter of survival as the fog of war sets in.
Can such a communication strategy work in the long-term? As Our Lord says in the Gospels, a kingdom divided against itself cannot stand.

‘I wasted the best years of my life on a fraud.’

I received the following testimony from a young lady who spent several years as a Regnum Christi consecrated. Her experience speaks for itself, as one shared by many consecrated now grappling with the truth about Fr. Maciel. She has kindly allowed me to share it with Catholic Light readers on condition that her identity remain anonymous:

Moving Through the Bitterness
When I left the consecrated life of Regnum Christi several years ago, I promised myself one thing — I wouldn’t let myself get bitter.
I don’t know why, but it always kind of bothered me how former Regnum Christi members, or brothers leaving the Legion, would dedicate themselves to constructing Internet Web sites that spewed hatred about how the movement and Father Maciel ruined their lives. I guess to me it showed a certain amount of immaturity. I mean, we all make our own decisions in life. We can’t blame others for the paths we take that didn’t turn out as we planned.
While I decided I needed to take a break from the RC scene and find myself, I never officially left the movement, and I never allowed myself to regret the years I spent as a consecrated member of the movement. Those were the best years of my life, I would tell myself and others.
During my post-RC years, every once in a while I’d run into a Legionary, or one of those super-star Regnum Christi members (there are certain members who are truly famous in RC circles), and I’d want to get involved again. I should really get back into the swing of things, I thought. I should join a team or help out an apostolate. I wanted to be in the thick of things. It is, after all, my family! No matter what happens in my life, they will always be there for me, and I’ll be there for them.
Then 2006 happened, and Father Maciel was asked to retire to a life of penance. He’s innocent, I thought. This is just like the persecution he’d always prayed for; Father Maciel is being asked to give the ultimate sacrifice — to die in complete and utter ignominy.
But after 2006, something interesting happened. A veil started to be lifted little by little from before my eyes. I couldn’t explain it at the time, but small aspects about the Legion or RC and its members — things that I always just took in stride — would start to grate on me.
I’d see loyal RC members be assigned to important apostolic posts that they weren’t prepared for just because the Legion knew that in a pinch, they could count on them, and it would annoy me. I’d meet up with an old RC friend of mine who couldn’t bring herself to say anything bad about the Legion or Father Maciel, and I’d come away with a bad taste in my mouth. I’d catch up with an ex-consecrated member of the movement and listen to her experience inside the Third Degree (that’s what the consecrated branch of RC is known as), and wonder why her experience could be so different from mine. I’d look for more information on Father Maciel’s case on the Legion Web site, and only find vocation stories, and wish the Legion would be more transparent.
And then there was a close friend of mine — also a fallen-away RC member, and although she had never been consecrated, she had been involved in RC apostolates for years — and together we’d talk for hours about the Legion and our experiences in RC. We’d go over the good times and the bad times, and convince ourselves at the very end that there was more good than bad. Every organization is going to have some bad elements — it’s just human. Even the Church has bad apples. We can’t be surprised that at some level there is nepotism, favoritism, corruption, etc…
Coincidentally, both of us were having serious doubts about our faith. Both of us were depressed, disillusioned with life and where our paths had brought us. Both of us were angry that the best and most productive years of our lives were behind us, and we didn’t take advantage of them the best we could. We were passing through the most existential of existential crises, and we both refused to believe that all of this could have had something to do with RC and our experiences in it.
Then Father Maciel died. I was sad, but I prayed for him and I tried to see things in a “supernatural light.” (Did you know this is a virtue? It’s the ability to see all events through the light of faith. It’s easy to do, but only if you are able to suspend your reason and critical thinking skills).
I was a little taken back, however, when I read that he died in Florida. I don’t imagine retiring in Florida is what Benedict XVI had in mind when he suggested prayer and penance, but I let it go, as I let so many things go.
But what I couldn’t let go was this feeling that my life wasn’t where it should have been. What I couldn’t let go was that before meeting RC, I had this path I wanted to follow, and I took a detour — almost a decade-long if you count the years it has taken me to come to grips with my experiences. What I couldn’t let go was that I couldn’t go back. I lost a decade of my life, and I couldn’t go back. Your late 20s and early 30s are the most pivotal of your professional and social life, and mine were gone — lost.
And now, as I’m reading about Father Maciel’s love child, and prescriptive drug addiction, and his possible other children, and how he used Legion money to fund his philandering, and how the Legion hierarchy is spinning the truth in order to keep the “mystique” alive, I’m seeing things so clearly. And I’m angry, and I’m disillusioned, and I’m depressed, and, oh yeah, I’m bitter.
I’m bitter because I believed all the lies. I’m bitter because I wasted the best years of my life on a fraud. I’m bitter because people I trusted, people I looked to for guidance, people I admired, lied to me — lied right to my face. They told me stories about what a good man Maciel was, what a saint he was. They taught me to see life through a “supernatural light.” They convinced me that I was doing God’s will, that I had been blessed by God with such a beautiful vocation. They brainwashed me. They used me. And then when I was of no use to them, they threw me away. And then, I thanked them.
I’m bitter because I was loyal. I’m bitter because I wouldn’t let myself turn against them, I refused to see all the red flags that are so obvious to me now. I’m bitter because the movement and those involved in it meant more to me than I meant to the movement. I’m bitter because, in the end, I lost. I lost years, I lost dignity, I lost my way.
As I see it, my anger and bitterness — what I most wanted to avoid — is actually my way out. I’m passing through the grieving process. I’m grieving my lost years, and my lost innocence. No longer the naive 20-something, so eager to do God’s will and ready to sacrifice everything for the cause of Christ, I find myself almost an entire decade older, and an entirely different person. Holier? I wouldn’t say that. Smarter? Tons. Wiser? Time will tell. Ready to move on? You have no idea.