In Plain Sight

In this season of relentless scandal in the Roman Catholic Church, there has been much hyperbole--sweeping condemnations of the priesthood, predictions of the end of a 2,000-year-old religion. Many Americans watched, sighed and waited for it to pass. But then came the story of the Rev. Paul Shanley. Last week, after all the adjectives had already been used, the details of his sordid career became public--and suddenly there truly were no words too strong.

"It's incomprehensible," says the Rev. Robert Bullock, who has been ministering in Boston for nearly half a century and who has known Shanley just as long. "The revelations have been so staggering and so shocking that there is no way to integrate this material into some kind of orderly narrative of events."

Shanley, now 71, didn't just have sex with children; he publicly endorsed the concept. He didn't just use his collar to get access to minors; he ran a special ministry for the most vulnerable among them. And he didn't fly below the radar of the church hierarchy; the 818-page archive released by the Boston Archdiocese under court order shows that two Cardinals and a phalanx of deputies knew about allegations of his abuse going back more than 30 years. But instead of handing Shanley over to police or at least defrocking him, they ignored, protected or promoted him. More than 40 alleged victims have now claimed abuse.

If any scandal can bring down the most powerful Cardinal in the country, it could be this one. The steady drumbeat for the resignation of Bernard Cardinal Law grew louder last week, with the Boston Globe and some of Law's staunchest former defenders saying he must go. Several major donors to the diocese's Catholic Charities are withholding funds. Law issued a statement on Friday saying he intends to stay--but this drama is not over.

To begin to understand how this implosion came to pass, it is necessary to learn another language. Church officials have responded to Shanley in the dialect of the Roman Catholic bureaucracy--which is fluent in the language of forgiveness and secrecy. "I am sure that all the legal activity will add to your stress," wrote one of Law's top officials to Shanley. "I will do all I can to make sure that you are cared for and supported." But it is also necessary to understand the unique allure of Shanley.

Paul Shanley was a media darling, a nationally known "hippie priest" who busted out of the Catholic stereotype at a time when the country was craving just such a novelty. "There was something highly seductive about him," says Bullock, who attended seminary with Shanley. In the 1970s Shanley grew thick sideburns and wore overalls. He gave irreverent lectures about the foolishness of the drug war and the normalcy of bisexuality. And most of all, he made it his lifetime pursuit to help wayward children, running a special ministry for teenagers who had run away or were confused about their sexuality. In a 1970 letter to the Archdiocese, one thankful parishioner wrote: "They flock around him as if he is the Pied Piper...[It's] a feeling of, 'When I am with Father Paul, I am somebody.'" And according to alleged victims, once Shanley had their trust, he molested them.