Tony Flannery: Fourteen years is a long time

Nov 12

A recent talk by a Canon Lawyer on the subject of the rights of priests in their relationship with Church authorities, whether vested in bishops, religious superiors or the members of the CDF evoked deep emotions in me, feelings which I thought I had resolved. These emotions are rooted in my dealings with Redemptorist and Vatican authorities fourteen years ago. I thought that I was getting on with my life and, to an extent, that is true.  I have time to read, walk, play a bit of golf and tend a garden—not a bad retirement by any standard. The talk by the Canon Lawyer evoked the old resentments – resentments springing from the fact that I was not informed as to the identity of my accuser, not having an opportunity to defend myself, the absence of an appeal process. These fundamental tenets of natural justice were absent. There was only one road back to active ministry, namely that I give a statement to the authorities in which I would repudiate the beliefs that I held in conscience, and that I had written about publicly as part of my role as a member of the Association of Catholic Priests, one of whose central aims was to bring about much needed reforms in the Church.

I know that I have written and spoken about my situation many times during the past fourteen years, but it was the fact that the Canon Lawyer commented on the anomaly of penalties imposed without any time limit that set me thinking again about it all. Unlike the secular criminal law, there was no time limit put on my punishment. Had I been found guilty of a serious crime in the civil arena, my sentence would have been time limited and I might even have been given time off for good behaviour. Fourteen years would be judged to be a fairly lengthy sentence. The signals are that I will live out my life labelled a heretic. 

Perhaps not. The Vatican authorities are capable of pardons, but one has to be at death’s door, or close to it. I am reminded of the late Fr. Seán Fagan, who was an outstanding theologian. He was treated with harshness, his book was taken off the market, a book which would have brought comfort to many Catholics. He was forbidden to speak or write publicly, and threats were made to dismiss him from the priesthood. In his final days, when he may not even be aware of what was happening, word came through that the penalties were lifted. Seán was not the only person to be experience what I consider to be duplicity. The punishing arm of the church suddenly presenting itself as a merciful entity. Tisa Balasuriya, a Sri Lankan theologian, was also near the end of his life when his sentence was lifted. I suspect there were many others.  

In considering these cases, I wonder at how the mind of the Vatican works. I can only conclude that these individuals are so convinced of their own sense of right and wrong, that they conclude that their judgements are those of God, that God would concur with their verdicts on right and wrong, so that by lifting the sentence they would help the person to be welcomed into eternity, and not consigned to Hell. Could it be possible that they are so convinced of their own righteousness, and their direct line to the Almighty, that the judgment they have passed would be replicated by God, even though their own judgement is so totally lacking in justice and respect for the human person, qualities that are central to the teaching of Jesus?

On reflection, if I had to answer before a secular court of law, I think that I would employ a Vatican lawyer on the grounds that this body is fairly good at wriggling out of awkward situations. I believe that a bit of manoeuvring went on in my case. Because I am a religious with a vow of obedience they believed they were under no obligation to communicate directly with me. All they needed to do was to speak and write to my superiors. The understanding was that when we took the vow at profession we no longer exercised our own judgement, but were completely subject to the will of our superior. But that had long ceased to be the understanding, due to the reform of religious life that took place after the Vatican Council in the nineteen sixties. I had been brought up to believe that the primary obedience is to God and to conscience. 

Some years ago, the head of the CDF was asked about my case. He replied that several attempts had been made communicate with me, but without success. To me that registered as a blatant lie. For him I only existed as a member of a congregation and his responsibility was fulfilled if sat down with the Superior General, whose job it was to issue the punishment. If there was an equality between the head of the Redemptorists and the head of the CDF that might have been somewhat workable, but there wasn’t. It was clear to me from the beginning that my religious superior was completely subservient to the Vatican, so that he would do nothing but submit to what they dictated. And that left me without any defence, or any court of appeal. The day he told me that he addressed the head of the CDF as ‘your eminence’ I knew that my goose was cooked!

I think back now to the day I made that vow, at the age of eighteen, and after what was called a spiritual year, completely cut off from ‘the world’. I understood so little of what I was doing, and how it would come back to bite me many years later.

Tony Flannery