Cardinal O’brien’s tale was a betrayal of hope and trust

DEATH has come for the archbishop, yet it brings no resolution to a sordid scandal. The disgrace of Cardinal Keith O’brien, archbishop emeritus of St Andrews and Edinburgh, will cling to his name, even as his headstone gathers moss. Nothing about the past few years of this once-eminent priest is glorious. By the time of his downfall, in 2013, he had lost the support of friends and colleagues. Pope Benedict wanted him out of sight and mind.

The crimes of which he stood accused were grave: there were more than 40 allegations of sexual misconduct, spanning decades. It was also claimed that he had a longterm lover – another priest – who eventually confessed their liaison. It took greater courage, however, for those individuals whom Cardinal O’brien had seemingly intimidated, coerced or molested to speak out. When, years later, they realised they had not been alone, they hoped their collective testimony would bring him to justice.

Since this would have involved the Catholic Church turning itself inside out, it was not to be. As in other ecclesiastical organisations, the Vatican deals with its miscreants without recourse to secular law. Had Keith O’brien been an employee in any other profession, his behaviour would have led to criminal charges and instant dismissal.

Instead, he was effectively told to resign, and was relocated across the Border, to a bungalow in Northumberland, paid for by the church. When he fell ill, he was nursed in a convent. When his time drew close, he received the last rites from Leo Cushley, his successor to the Archbishopric. Thus, from the start of his career to his dying breath, he was cocooned, chastised and cared for by the institution in which he had flourished. Ultimately he was shamed, but he was not cast out.

For those he had abused, there was no redress, no comfort, and no confirmation by the church that their plight has been fully acknowledged. Instead, in timehonoured fashion, the offender was sent into purdah, and the business hushed up. This, despite the Vatican’s report into the allegations apparently containing material “hot enough to burn the varnish off the Pope’s desk”.

As an outspoken opponent of gay marriage, while a practising homosexual himself, Cardinal O’brien ranks as one of the chief hypocrites of the age. But he was worse than this. One of his victims called him a predator. It’s an alarming image, given the authority he held over hundreds of young men in his charge. As one said, “you have to understand the relationship between a bishop and a priest. At your ordination you take a vow to be obedient to him. He’s more than your boss. He has immense power over you... He controls every aspect of your life.”

In this, the abuses he committed are worse than those even of a Harvey Weinstein. Anyone unfamiliar with the ways of a church cannot conceive of the depth of influence a senior cleric holds. On his shoulder sits God, and his words and actions carry crushing weight. Such misuse of power as he wielded is just one of countless reasons why taking holy orders is at best unwise, and at worst downright dangerous. Handing the reins of your life over to another human being, who claims to act for the Almighty, is perilous. The risks are spiritual as well as emotional, a toxic combination because those who are in thrall to faith are particularly vulnerable to manipulation.

At every level, Cardinal O’brien’s story is desperate. It is a tragedy for those whose lives he damaged, and it is a tragedy for him. On hearing that he lay close to death, it was impossible not to reflect on the devastation that he had caused to himself as well as others. He was a gifted, able man, with the confidence to speak out harshly against those with whom he disagreed. But his willingness to debate honestly on some subjects was underlain by a pathetic lie about who and what he was. As a result, the man and much of his ministry was rendered hollow.

One of the saddest aspects of this saga is that the church into which he had entered, no doubt intending to do good, was the worst place he could have chosen. Unless he was so depraved that he became a priest in order to prey on others, his role meant smothering his own nature, and turning to furtive, exploitative gratification. To be a gay cleric in any religious tradition, even the most liberal, is still troublesome. Within the Catholic Church, however, it is a recipe for a life of sorrow or denial, repression or deceit. Of course, not every gay man within the church foists himself on others, or threatens reprisals if they report him. But for those who do, this cloistered, self-protective environment is the perfect place in which to act unchallenged.

Cardinal O’brien’s disreputable reign is also a tragedy for the church, whose reputation has been badly tarnished in this affair. Since Christian faith is founded on hope and trust, the Vatican’s handling of this matter has effectively shown these concepts to be meaningless.

For those he had abused, there was no redress, no comfort, and no confirmation by the church that their plight has been fully acknowledged