Can the Church Be Saved?

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Dioceses lapsed into a pattern of denial and deception. They treated sexual pathology as a moral failure and crime as a religious matter. The Roman Catholic Church is a stern hierarchy that has always kept its deliberations secret, policed itself and issued orders from the top. An obedient priest moves up in power by keeping his head down, winning rewards for bureaucratic skills and strict orthodoxy. When Cardinals are created, they take a vow before the Pope to "keep in confidence anything that, if revealed, would cause a scandal or harm to the church." When it came to sex abuse, the Vatican essentially told bishops, You're on your own. But if saving the church from scandal was literally a cardinal virtue, then the bishops of America's 194 dioceses who had direct responsibility for priestly misconduct would make it their first principle. Better by far never to let the public know.

If allegations came to diocese attention, the bishop, a power unto himself who often operated as if ordination gave him a share of the Pope's infallibility, acted as prosecutor, judge, sentencer. Desperate to retain even sinful men, as the number of priests shrank alarmingly, and ever putting the image of the church first, bishops refined the system. Convince the family that publicity would harm the faith. Don't report to the police; don't warn the parish. Treat the priest with confession, time out at a discreet rehab center and Christian forgiveness; then let him resume duties at a new parish, the same way they dealt with whisky priests' alcoholism. For years the bishops believed, or made themselves believe, pedophilia could be "cured," until the serial molestations and multiple victims and repeat offenders proved it wasn't so. Only the most recalcitrant recidivists were eventually "laicized"--forced to give up their priestly vocation--long after they had done their worst. And if a victim finally sued, the strategy was to admit nothing, buy silence, settle out of court and seal the deal with a confidentiality contract. The church, said Richard Sipe, a former Benedictine monk who testified as an expert for plaintiffs in priest-abuse cases, "took a very defensive position, rather than proactive."

It is hard to remember in this age of confession, but 30, 20, even 10 years ago, children kept silent about sexual molestation. By and large they were ignorant, scared, guilty and sure no one would believe them. "I don't know that I identified it [as abuse] then," Chris Dixon, 40, told TIME. He came forward only this month to detail two-decades-old allegations against Bishop Anthony O'Connell, of Palm Beach, Fla., who resigned a few days later: "Why would anyone believe me? I thought my parents would blame me."