My favorite book of Dante’s Divine Comedy is the Purgatorio and, in particular, Book IX. It is here that the pilgrim is granted entrance to the seven-storied mountain through a gate with three steps. Here is Mark Musa’s translation:
We reached the steps. White marble was the first, and polished to the glaze of
a looking glass: I saw myself reflected as I was.
The second one was deeper dark than perse, of rough and crumbling, fire-
corroded stone, with cracks across its surface—length and breadth.
The third one, lying heavy at the top, appeared to be of flaming porphyry, red
as the blood that spurts out from a vein.
The symbolism is relatively straightforward. The first step acts as a mirror reflecting to the penitent a true image of his sinful self. The following step represents the sinfulness of the sins committed. It is deepest dark and broken. Only after the sinner comes to appreciate the reality of the harm done is he ready to do the hard work of reparation. The final step’s redness bespeaks the blood offered by Christ on the cross that makes reconciliation possible and the pain required of the penitent.
When teaching this passage, I often use the example of a marital vow betrayed. The path of penance begins with seeing oneself as a vow-breaker. Then, one must confront fully the wound inflicted on the other. Any attempt to downplay or simply not see the depth of the harm caused renders the work of reconciliation imperfect. Finally, one must undertake, with help of divine grace, the arduous work of restoring the bond.
I could not help but think of these lines while reading the Report on Child Sexual Abuse in the Diocese of Providence, issued last week by the Rhode Island attorney general’s office. While other states produced their reports years ago, Rhode Island, for a variety of reasons, took longer to collect and collate the information. The result is a thorough and devastating account of the usual assemblage of awful that constitutes what Richard John Neuhaus, way back in 2004, called the Church’s “Long Lent.”
We read in horrific specificity of the sexual predations of priests against the Church’s young, and of the various efforts of bishops to run cover by transferring known abusers to unsuspecting parishes, mistreating those who complained, and downplaying injuries done. Even when you are familiar with this kind of information, its power to scandalize remains.
There is also the official response from the diocese, which takes strong issue with the report’s fairness and the political motives behind it. Finally, there is a video from the current Bishop of Providence, Bruce Lewandowski.
What follows is my own take on these materials as a Catholic in Rhode Island. I am neither a lawyer nor an investigative reporter, and must remain agnostic on some of the points in the dispute between the state and the diocese. I should also make clear that I cannot claim to be a “Rhode Islander,” despite having lived here for almost thirty years. Our smallest state is a particular place; one needs to be from it to be of it. There are dynamics at play here of which I am heedless.
That said, I have had occasion to speak with a few victims of the abuse outlined in the report, and I was personally involved in one of the episodes it recounts. I am also aware of the nastiness of Rhode Island politics and the animus some of its politicians have towards the Catholic Church and its teachings. This includes Attorney General Peter Neronha, the main force behind the report. For those who followed the clown show surrounding the shooting at Brown University in December, he was the most boisterous and self-assured of the incompetents on display. The diocese has every right to be suspicious of his motives.
The report itself is the most complete account of the clerical sex abuse in Rhode Island that exists, and for that reason, necessary reading for anyone hoping to understand the scandal that nearly broke New England Catholicism.
