New York Catholics wrestle with their faith over abuse allegations
New York City is a Roman Catholic stronghold.
One out of every three residents identifies as a Catholic. And there are more than 4 million Catholics in the city and seven surrounding counties.
So when a series of scandals involving the Roman Catholic Church unfolded in rapid-fire succession this summer, New York gasped.
First came accusations of sexual abuse by a premier American cardinal, Theodore E. McCarrick, who quickly resigned but left in his wake lingering questions about the role Pope Francis played in covering up the predatory behavior.
In August, an 884-page grand jury report out of Pennsylvania landed with a thud, offering a grim catalog of seven decades of child abuse by more than 300 priests.
And last month, the attorneys general of New Jersey and New York followed Pennsylvania’s lead, announcing investigations into claims of clergy abuse and coverups, joining five other states that have started similar inquiries. Last Thursday, Pennsylvania dioceses said they had received subpoenas for documents as part of an investigation by the U.S. Department of Justice.
The revelations have forced a painful reckoning that continues to reverberate across the five boroughs, among the devout and the lapsed, young and old, newcomers and native-born. Their disparate internal struggles offer a window into the rich complexities of Catholicism in one of the most diverse cities in the world.
Here are some of their stories.
For a time in high school and college, Abat left the Catholic Church. She had grown up attending two churches near her home in Morningside Heights in Manhattan, Notre Dame and Corpus Christi.
“I questioned a lot of things,” she said about her decision to step away from the church. “All the rules and all the hierarchy and all of that was just something I was very opposed to, and I needed some time away from that.”
Eventually, Abat said she was able to “come to peace” with her identity as a Catholic. Her temporary break from Catholicism, she said, strengthened her faith and has allowed her to better cope with the recent scandals.
“It definitely makes me angry,” she said. “But it doesn’t make me want to leave. If anything, it makes it more urgent for me to stay, not to abandon this church and the people who are in it because we need to heal together. And I can’t do that by leaving.”
For McGarvey, being a follower of the Catholic Church is not only an act of devotion, it is also an act of resistance.
McGarvey said he was 16 when he was first sexually assaulted by the Rev. Robert Brown, a priest at his local church, Sienna Parish in Franklin Square, N.Y. McGarvey, who had joined the church’s youth ministry in search of guidance, said the abuse went on for 14 years. It only ended when the priest died.
“I hate saying his name,” said McGarvey. “I thought I had a father figure, you know, because my dad wasn’t there. And he took advantage of me.”
Decades later, McGarvey was among the victims who received a monetary settlement from the Diocese of Rockville Centre as part of its Independent Compensation and Reconciliation Program. He now lives in Jamaica, Queens, and goes to Mass weekly at Our Lady of the Cenacle Church.
Though he remains skeptical of clergymen and the Vatican hierarchy, McGarvey said he has never allowed the abuse to damage his faith in God. To do so, he said, would let evil win.
“God gave the devil over a hundred years to try to destroy his church,” he said. “The best way that he’s going to try to do that is within. I’m not going to let the devil get the best of me.”
Sánchez relied on his faith after he told his family he was gay when he was a senior in high school.
“It was a very dramatic time,” said Sánchez, a student at Baruch College. “I went to church. Just praying. I really relied on that.”
It was an instinctual response. He was raised Catholic in Ecuador, where he attended a Catholic school. He went to Mass every Sunday. He had been an altar server.
“Everything I grew up around was Catholic,” said Sánchez, who lives in Bushwick, Brooklyn, and moved to the United States with his family about four years ago.
But Sánchez recently stopped going to church after learning from news reports that a priest he had idolized in Ecuador had sexually abused teenagers. Feeling betrayed, Sánchez said he had grown increasingly vocal with friends and on social media about his concerns about sex abuse in the church, especially after the grand jury report.
After coming out, Sánchez said he initially convinced himself that the church “didn’t hate me for being gay.” He even joined an Upper East Side church that had an LGBTQ group. But he ultimately found it impossible to worship in a church that was hostile to homosexuality, even if there were havens where he had felt welcome.
“Even if this church is liberal,” he said. “It doesn’t mean that the whole Catholic Church is.”
Schliep, a senior at Fordham University in the Bronx, wrestles with whether to still identify as a Catholic.
She grew up in a family with deep Irish-Catholic roots; her parents took her to Mass every Sunday near their home in New Jersey. But as she got older she realized that her positions on many social issues — like abortion and same-sex marriage — were at odds with the church’s central teachings.
“I felt I didn’t fit in,” said Schliep, who is studying English and history. “I also didn’t believe in a lot of the tenets of the Catholic Church. The fact that there are no female priests has always bothered me.”
Schliep has largely stopped going to church. When she does accompany her boyfriend to Mass, she feels guilty receiving communion. To participate in the sacrament feels disrespectful to her friends and relatives who remain steadfast in their beliefs.
“At this point, I don’t really know if I identify as a Catholic,” she said, adding, “That’s something I’m still trying to figure out.”
Yet she wound up at a Jesuit university and some of her favorite academic pursuits have involved studying the history of the church.
Complicating her decision about whether to participate as a Catholic is a fear of showing a lack of respect toward her parents and her Irish heritage. Her mother, she said, wishes she and her five siblings were “very pious, fervent supporters of the Catholic Church.”
“She recognizes its faults, too,” Schliep said. “But she’s worried about our salvation.”
The grand jury report exacerbated her internal struggle. “I get so angry because of the systemic abuse,” she said.
David said he believes the cover-up of sexual abuse shows the church hierarchy has not adhered “authentically to what Jesus taught.”
“We are broken people, and so it doesn’t shock me that this has taken place. What shocks me more is sort of the response to it,” he said. “That’s what I think disappoints and what leaves people cynical and bitter and frustrated.”
The Pennsylvania report, he said, provides an opportunity for lay Catholics to demand more accountability.
“As Catholics we’re sort of accustomed to just waiting for people to tell us how it’s going to be, what the church rules and regulations are,” he said. “Christ lives and dwells in us. And so I think, as lay people, we have a sense of what is right and what is wrong. I think it’s time for us to stand up and say, ‘This is unacceptable.’ ”
David, who grew up in Kentucky, now attends Sunday Mass at St. Charles Borromeo Church in Brooklyn Heights with his wife and two children, who are being raised in both the Catholic and evangelical traditions.
David said he wanted his children to grow up with a strong sense of faith so they, like him, can adhere to the principles of Catholic social teaching and its emphasis on selflessness, service and charity as a road to salvation.
“The one thing I remember my dad telling me as a young boy, is: ‘Don’t let others cause you to lose your salvation,’ ” he said. “I never understood what he meant by that. But as I’ve grown older, and now that I have children, I understand a little more.”
“The hurt that’s been caused to people of faith by people of faith, that’s just really hard to come to terms with.” Raya Abat, 27, Manhattan
“In my opinion, the devil won’t win.” Thomas McGarvey, 52, Queens
“We think this is going to be like the #MeToo movement and nothing happens.” Fernando Sánchez, 21, Brooklyn
“Saying that I’m not a Catholic is a huge statement. The fact that I was raised something, and I’m deciding whether or not I am still that thing.” Theresa Schliep, 21, Bronx
“The church stands with those who are marginalized and those are the individuals who I believe are closest to God.” Jacques David, 50, Brooklyn