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Authors: Juan Gómez-Jurado
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place. It didn’t look
like a religious institution: no crucifixes on the wall, no one wearing habits or robes. I’ve spent many nights in the open air, on an
expedition or at the front, and I never took my clerical collar off.
But everyone there seemed to come and go as they pleased. Faith
and self-control were obviously in short supply.’
‘You didn’t communicate this to anyone?’ Dicanti asked. ‘Of course. The first thing I did was write a letter to the bishop
responsible for that parish. He accused me of being too influenced
by my time in the armed forces, by the “rigidity of the military environment”. He advised me to be more “adaptable”. Those were tricky
times for me; my career in the Air Force had been a roller-coaster
ride. I don’t want to get into that – it has nothing to do with the
case at hand – but let’s just say that I had no desire to add to my
reputation for being intransigent.’
‘You don’t have to justify yourself.’
‘I know, but what happened there does weigh on my conscience.
They cured neither minds nor souls in that institution; they simply
gave their patients a little push in the direction of least resistance.
What took place there was exactly the opposite of what the diocese
had hoped.’
‘I don’t follow,’ said Pontiero.
‘Nor do I,’ Troi chimed in.
‘It’s complicated. To begin with, the only psychiatrist with a university degree on staff at the centre was Father Conroy, at that time
the institute’s director. None of the other staff had a further degree
beyond nursing or a technical diploma. Yet they were allowed to
make psychiatric evaluations!’
‘Insane.’ Dicanti was amazed.
‘Completely. The only endorsement you had to have to get hired
was to belong to Dignity, an organisation that promotes the ordination of women and sexual freedom for male priests. Personally, I don’t agree with them about anything but it’s not my place to judge. What I could do was evaluate the professional capacity of the personnel, and that was extremely lacking.’
‘I don’t see where all this taking us,’ Pontiero said, lighting another cigarette.
‘Five more minutes and you will. As I was saying, Father Conroy, a great friend of Dignity and as liberal as they come, managed the Saint Matthew in a completely erratic manner. Honest priests arrived there, men confronted with baseless accusations (which did happen), and thanks to Conroy they relinquished the priesthood that had been the light of their lives. Others he urged not to struggle against their nature but to simply get on with life. He considered it a success when a religious person gave up their vows and began a homosexual relationship.’
‘And you see that as a problem?’ asked Dicanti.
‘No, not if the person really wanted or needed to do it. But the patient’s needs didn’t matter to Conroy in the slightest. First, he established his objectives and then he forged ahead, applying his plan to each person without any prior knowledge of them at all. He played God with the hearts and minds of those men and women, some of whom were deeply troubled. And then he washed it all down with a fine single malt.’
‘God in heaven!’ said Pontiero.
‘Take my word for it, He was nowhere on the premises. But that wasn’t the worst thing. Owing to several grave errors in the selection of candidates, many young men in my country who weren’t fit to be the shepherds of men’s souls had entered Catholic seminaries during the seventies and eighties. They weren’t even fit to take care of their own souls, let alone anyone else’s. With time, many of these young men gave up the cloth. They did a great deal of damage to the good name of the Catholic Church, and what’s worse, to many children and younger men. Many priests accused of sexual abuse – guilty of sexual abuse – didn’t go to jail. They disappeared from view and were moved from parish to parish. Some of them finally ended up at the Saint Matthew.
like a religious institution: no crucifixes on the wall, no one wearing habits or robes. I’ve spent many nights in the open air, on an
expedition or at the front, and I never took my clerical collar off.
But everyone there seemed to come and go as they pleased. Faith
and self-control were obviously in short supply.’
‘You didn’t communicate this to anyone?’ Dicanti asked. ‘Of course. The first thing I did was write a letter to the bishop
responsible for that parish. He accused me of being too influenced
by my time in the armed forces, by the “rigidity of the military environment”. He advised me to be more “adaptable”. Those were tricky
times for me; my career in the Air Force had been a roller-coaster
ride. I don’t want to get into that – it has nothing to do with the
case at hand – but let’s just say that I had no desire to add to my
reputation for being intransigent.’
‘You don’t have to justify yourself.’
‘I know, but what happened there does weigh on my conscience.
They cured neither minds nor souls in that institution; they simply
gave their patients a little push in the direction of least resistance.
What took place there was exactly the opposite of what the diocese
had hoped.’
‘I don’t follow,’ said Pontiero.
‘Nor do I,’ Troi chimed in.
‘It’s complicated. To begin with, the only psychiatrist with a university degree on staff at the centre was Father Conroy, at that time
the institute’s director. None of the other staff had a further degree
beyond nursing or a technical diploma. Yet they were allowed to
make psychiatric evaluations!’
‘Insane.’ Dicanti was amazed.
‘Completely. The only endorsement you had to have to get hired
was to belong to Dignity, an organisation that promotes the ordination of women and sexual freedom for male priests. Personally, I don’t agree with them about anything but it’s not my place to judge. What I could do was evaluate the professional capacity of the personnel, and that was extremely lacking.’
‘I don’t see where all this taking us,’ Pontiero said, lighting another cigarette.
‘Five more minutes and you will. As I was saying, Father Conroy, a great friend of Dignity and as liberal as they come, managed the Saint Matthew in a completely erratic manner. Honest priests arrived there, men confronted with baseless accusations (which did happen), and thanks to Conroy they relinquished the priesthood that had been the light of their lives. Others he urged not to struggle against their nature but to simply get on with life. He considered it a success when a religious person gave up their vows and began a homosexual relationship.’
‘And you see that as a problem?’ asked Dicanti.
‘No, not if the person really wanted or needed to do it. But the patient’s needs didn’t matter to Conroy in the slightest. First, he established his objectives and then he forged ahead, applying his plan to each person without any prior knowledge of them at all. He played God with the hearts and minds of those men and women, some of whom were deeply troubled. And then he washed it all down with a fine single malt.’
‘God in heaven!’ said Pontiero.
‘Take my word for it, He was nowhere on the premises. But that wasn’t the worst thing. Owing to several grave errors in the selection of candidates, many young men in my country who weren’t fit to be the shepherds of men’s souls had entered Catholic seminaries during the seventies and eighties. They weren’t even fit to take care of their own souls, let alone anyone else’s. With time, many of these young men gave up the cloth. They did a great deal of damage to the good name of the Catholic Church, and what’s worse, to many children and younger men. Many priests accused of sexual abuse – guilty of sexual abuse – didn’t go to jail. They disappeared from view and were moved from parish to parish. Some of them finally ended up at the Saint Matthew.