I received a phone call, from my 'friend' Cindy* yesterday.
"Hi Stu, how w'are you", she said with her heavy New York accent.
"I'm fine, I had been thinking about you lately, how are you doing."
"I wanted to let you know my son died" she said, without choking up like one would expect.
Silence.
"Um, I'm so sorry to hear that, Cindy."
"It was rather sudden", she interrupts, "but he never did take care of himself. Bob* wouldn't stop, and one
thing lead to another. You know, the doctor warned him a couple of years ago, but he didn't care, he never listened."
Silence again.
"Um, Cindy, pardon me for asking, but did he...kill himself?"
"Oh No, nothing like that, it was his drinking, and he just wouldn't quit, you know, from all the crap of being sexually
abused, and that monster still around. The good thing though, his brother finally saw this for what it was. You know,
they hadn't talked to each other since '94, and his brother always blamed Bob. Boy I tell ya, this is too much for me.
The Archdiocese should have to pay, and a lawyer, a couple of years back...ya know, before this happened...mentioned that
if this did happen, that I should file a wrongful death lawsuit against them. They let this monster get away with this,
and they still won't admit it, I tell ya (she says with a wry chuckle). Well I just wanted you to know. I pray
that your family is doing well. You seem to have adjusted quite well for yourself, and you have your religion and all,
and your family, how are they doing?"
"Great, I'm..."
"That's great, well I just wanted you to know, and tell your beautiful wife I said hi."
"I'll be praying for you."
"Yes, please, and pray for Robert's soul, too"
We said our goodbyes, and I couldn't help but notice the relief in her voice. I was also abused by the same man
who abused her son. There was a sharp contrast between our lives. He chose not to deal with it properly, trying
to drink the pain away. Though I'm not that much further 'ahead' in my recovery, I chose to work through what happened,
and not deny what the abuse had done to me. Not an easy feat, but necessary. I think Cindy saw that quality in
me, and hoped beyond measure that her son would do the same. I guess hearing my voice was enough for her to be grateful
that all of her hard work meant something to somebody, and I am forever in debted for her persistence.
Our journey began, when rumblings from Boston in Jan '02, about the Archdiocese having files that implicated
them in a cover-up of shuffling priests they knew were sexually abusing boys, and did little or nothing to stop it. During
those months of unraveling reality, I started asking questions about my sexual abuse at the hands of a priest. Was it
just a fluke, or something far more sinister, more nationally involved? Could it be possible that others were abused
by my same perpetrator?
I scoured the internet, trying to find anything that remotely indicated that notion. I jogged my memory of the
specific details, discovering along the way a support group for people like myself, even though it had been in existence for
about a decade, little was known about it, and yet they had a great networking of information. Needless to say,
I devoured as much info as I could possibly stand. My worst fears emerged, but by now, almost a month later, I
have been talking to several fellow survivors about my prepetrator. Armed now with vital specifics, one month almost
to the very day, I received an e-mail:
"
Click on this web link, It will answer your questions."
To my horror, all the things that I struggled with, came unraveled before me, and I couldn't help but re-read the articles.
I finally summoned the courage, and contacted one of the reporters in the hope of connecting with this family. The reporter
was gracious with me, but reluctant in giving me information. It wasn't until I agreed to do a possible follow up interview
would they do so, but that interview never materialized.
Now, armed with the information, I found myself in an awkward situation, when I made the phone call. "Hi. Read your
article, and your son and I have something in commom." didn't seem appropiate. I don't remember all the details of that
inital conversation, I was too nervous, but I do remember how gracious Cindy was, and how relieved she was that someone
else came forward. I can't say I felt the same. It wasn't until I unintentionally talked with her son,
did it dawn on me what it was I was feeling. It was somewhere in the conversation; when I was asking him details, or
giving my own, and his reaction to that, did I feel like I was talking to someone who was an ex-lover of my spouse.
It's like the victims of henious crimes, coming together for a reunion, for what brought such horror to their lifes. They know
little about each other, but have his intimate relationship, caused by the evil that brought them together. They've seen
the worst in each other; of the deep rooted fears, the ones we try to hide so well but now someone knows, and what they
do with that knowledge leaves one vulnerable and weak. This helps explain one theory I have, as to why victims
will attack other victim's character, regardless if they had the same abuser or not.
What am I trying to say? I felt relieved that Bob will suffer no more in this world, and for Cindy to not
have to worry any more about her son. But everytime I address this problem, the abuse, I always feel the one
emotion that haunts me constantly: anger. I can't shake it, can't will it away, and no matter how many verses in
the Bible I read regarding it, it won't erase the emotion.
"In your anger, sin not. Don't let the sun go down on your anger", we read in the Bible. The comfort is that
anger is understandable, expected, and according to this verse, controllable. But not by myself. God's intervention
is the only way I can deal with this. And He has.
But then the issue of
forgiveness pops up. "Let it go. Forget about it. Quit stirring the pot. Get over it!" These, and many other expressions
have been said by family, and well-intentioned Christian friends. But through my own endeavor of understanding this,
as well as other issues God brings to my mind, I have found what the Bible DOESN'T say about forgiveness is as important,
if not more, than what it does. For example, forgiveness does NOT equal
trust. "No kidding" you say, but inevitably we demand that the one who has been offended needs to let go of that past,
as if it never happened, or worse, minimize it's effect. The underlying truth to that is, we don't want to
deal with the ugly mess of making the PROCESS of forgiveness work to completion. But a big part of the process
is separating the idea that forgiveness and trust are equal.
Another misconception of forgiveness is, the more forgiving you are, the less
angry you will be. Displaying anger may mean we haven't worked through the whole forgiveness process, but it doesn't mean
we are not forgiving. I think anger is a first step, and needs to be properly released. I will always feel
anger toward my abuser, and I can still forgive him. This helps maintain a state of vigilance. He will never be
able to shake the fact that he committed these crimes, and if he doesn't repent now, he will never find the forgiveness he
so desperately wants. And in his attempt to ignore everyone he abused, my prayer is he will be haunted
by the memories of what he did, enough to compel him to confess his crimes, and repent of his sin, so he would save
himself from the inevitable doom of eternal damnation.
And on the issue of anger, Jesus shown righteous indignation to those who were desecrating His Father's temple,
and it came out in the form of anger. He didn't sin, and He corrected the wrong. We know that God burns with
anger over what these evil-doers are doing to children, and our display of anger seems to be the only way that
they can hear that. In our world where we have no moral absolutes, and apathy has become an art form, anger may
be the best means to addressing this.
For Cindy, filing a wrongful death lawsuit maybe her only hope, a hope that she wasn't wrong in pursuing justice,
or for using the last two decades of her life immersed in trying to make right out of something so horrible.
For me, using my anger as a means to educate others has, and always will be, my fuel to push for reaching the truth,
and even if having to forgive those in the process is too difficult to imagine, I will always have God's mercy to help guide
me through that process.
*Not their real names (and not that it would make any difference, I
feel I owe them that respect.)
