Staking Their Claim

WELLESLEY, Mass. —  In an unadorned parish hall in this posh Boston suburb, a woman spoke evenly, clearly trying to control her emotions. “I’m concerned about my children, who are making decisions about the future for my grandchildren,” Claire Megan said. “I want them all to remain Catholic. But not in the church the way it’s been.”

This faithful churchgoer has found herself rethinking her world these days as new accusations continue to surface about sex crimes and cover-ups within the Catholic priesthood. Not one to see herself as a reformer, let alone a revolutionary, she nevertheless now feels compelled to help change the institution that has always been her spiritual home. She is attending meetings, helping to draw up proposals, and talking. Mostly talking. For better or worse, the church is no longer a place people like Megan can take for granted on Sundays. And as the Catholic church’s problems become more glaring, laypeople like this unassuming grandmother in her 60s are getting involved.

From Buffalo, N.Y., to Chicago to Southern California, laypeople around the United States are getting together to see what role they can take, many of them demanding a larger role in church governance, meeting in ad hoc groups designed to bring about a dramatic change in church policy. At the very least, these people want a voice, some want more, including a church government with equal partners between the clergy and the laity--much as the Senate and House work side by side. They want to help police church actions, and they are prepared to withhold their donations as leverage to bring about such change.

Some of the most ambitious of these advocates meet every Monday night in the parish hall of St. John the Evangelist Catholic church in this small suburb of Boston. Their group, of which Megan is a member, got its start when 25 parishioners met after a Sunday Mass to vent about the former Boston priest, John J. Geoghan, accused of molesting more than 130 boys, and Boston Cardinal Bernard Law’s long-term willingness to keep the problems hidden. The meetings have evolved into strategy sessions with the gathering force of a social revolution.

The group’s name, Voice of the Faithful, suggests that its members do not intend to break away from the religious tradition they love. Their slogan, taped to the wall of their meeting room, spells out their straightforward, albeit difficult, goal: “Keep the faith, change the church.”

To be sure, grass-roots movements intent on reforming church policies have cropped up repeatedly since the mid-1960s, when the leaders of the Second Vatican Council called for greater participation by laypeople in the life of the church. But most of these reformist groups have focused on a single issue, from ordination for women to birth control or equality for homosexuals. Now, as sexual abuse charges against dozens of priests around the world are being made public, laypeople are saying it is past time to rethink how the church does business. “Pedophilia is only a symptom of a disease,” says Jim Muller, a cardiologist and parishioner of St. John the Evangelist and president of Voice of the Faithful. “The disease is absolute power.”

The possibility of changing a centuries-old governing system composed of an all-male conference of bishops is daunting. “We’ve got to stay focused,” says Muller. “Our goal is to organize the laity and give us a voice. If we start fighting over the gay issue, married priests and everything else, we won’t make it.”

No one envisions this happening overnight. Earlier this month, at a workshop called “Reform in the Catholic Church” in Belmont, Mass., a few miles from Wellesley, Mary Jo Bane discussed more basic strategies for church reform. Bane is an expert on public policy issues and teaches at Harvard’s Kennedy School of Government. Her session was part of a daylong conference on a variety of religious topics.

“It’s a question of forming an alternative institution,” she told 40 people who sat in a circle around her. “I’m your basic incrementalist. Change begins at the parish level.”

In Chicago, Dan Daley is co-director of Call to Action, a group founded in the late-1970s that is the largest Catholic Church reform group in the U.S. It counts 25,000 members nationwide, including lay Catholics, nuns and priests and is monitoring lay-led movements such as the one in Wellesley. “Parishes around the country are holding meetings where people can talk, hear from the staff, sort out their feelings,” says Daley. “Slowly they’re becoming more conscious of the underlying issues. Particular parishes are going through the process, but each one is quite aware that others are doing the same thing. Call to Action is set up to connect these people. We’re gearing up for it. We’ve started to get requests.”

Patrick Young, a lawyer at the State University of New York at Buffalo, is a member of Call to Action; he was in Wellesley last week to attend a Voice of the Faithful meeting and was met with cheers when he introduced himself in the crowded parish hall. “Tomorrow night we’re meeting in my city,” he said. “I’ll bring back news of your activities.”

Earlier this month at San Francisco Solano parish in Orange County’s Rancho Santa Margarita, a “listening” session followed the announcement of the resignation of parish priest Father Michael Pecharich, who has been accused of molesting two boys. He has resigned from the parish.

On April 7, members of San Francisco Solana met with facilitator Sister Kathleen Schinhofen, who helped them focus their concerns. Next, parishioners want to meet with Orange County Bishop Tod Brown, who recently called for an expanded role for the laity in church decision-making procedures. His announcement came days after Los Angeles Cardinal Roger M. Mahony made a similar plan for the Los Angeles archdiocese. Mahony said he will include molestation victims on a board that reviews sexual abuse allegations against priests.

In Boston, says Muller, “the interest is keen.” Within weeks of the Voice group’s first meeting in February, it attracted about 100 concerned Catholics from around the state. Now, more than 200 people regularly attend the Monday meetings. The group has a Web site, www.voiceofthefaithful.org, and a mailing list that grows by as many as 100 new names a day, Muller says, now numbering about 1,500 names. Requests for training workshops come in from around the country. “We’re besieged with people who want a model for how to create a stronger voice for the laity,” Muller says.

He reads such signals with experienced eyes. Thirty years ago, Muller helped found International Physicians for the Prevention of Nuclear War, an international lobbying group, and was awarded a Nobel Peace Prize in 1985 for the project. That group grew to include 135,000 members, but Muller says he is reaching for far greater numbers for Voice of the Faithful. “We have maybe 300 people committed now,” he says. “We need three million.” Changing church government may be Voice of the Faithful’s most ambitious goal, but it is not the only item on its agenda. Other priorities include supporting victims who have been molested by priests and standing up for “priests of integrity” who have been afraid to criticize church policies and teachings for fear of being punished by their bishops.

“I think what we’re planning is doable,” says Muller. “We’re going to serve as a voice for mainstream Catholics and create a mechanism for democracy.” The test of their strength may come on July 20, when Voice of the Faithful will hold a convention in Boston to draft a constitution for the laity. It is expected to call for bishops to share responsibility with laypeople, from making appointments of top clergy to enforcing openness on the daily level of parish government. Church leaders ought not to govern themselves, they say, no more than police and politicians who are overseen by civilian commissions.

Asked why he expects the church hierarchy to pay attention to demands by the laity, Muller appeals to moral integrity, social justice and money. “There is an unbalanced power structure with no voice of the faithful,” he says. “We need to change that. With a constitution, we’ll get the laity organized in a collective voice. Then we’ll have a democratic process in place.” As for leverage, Muller says, “the laity pays the church’s bills.”

Last week at the meeting in Wellesley, Muller read a statement drafted by Voice leaders calling for Cardinal Law to resign and for Boston Catholics to be included in choosing his replacement, although laity is not currently involved in that process. (The pope has since called for a meeting of the American cardinals in Rome, which is scheduled for today.)

“There is a Conference of Bishops in Catholic tradition and a College of Cardinals,” says Peggie Thorp, who is on the steering committee of the Voice group. “With a constitution,” she believes, “there will be a Conference of the Laity, with an equal voice.”

A freelance writer, Thorp says the core group members of Voice of the Faithful grew up in the ‘60s. “Our age group was defined by movements, for peace, racial justice, women’s rights,” she says. Some years ago, she says, Thorp decided to drop out of the church, even though she still attended Sunday Mass. “For years, I stood outside church teachings and policies,” she says. “I separated my faith from the institution.” In an unexpected turn, the current sexual abuse scandal helped change her mind. “I see how my church is hurting people,” says Thorp. “I want to help fix that.”

Jim Post, a parishioner at St. John the Evangelist in Wellesley is a lawyer who helped organize an international boycott of Nestle USA in the late ‘70s in protest of the company’s promotion of baby formula in Third World countries to mothers not educated about the advantages of breastfeeding. Using his organizing skills for Voice of the Faithful, Post is setting up an escrow fund for Catholics who want to divert their financial contributions from this year’s annual Cardinal’s Appeal that starts in May in the Boston archdiocese. They are suggesting that people place their contributions in the National Catholic Community Fund, a philanthropic organization that gives money to Catholic social-service programs.

“This allows us to avoid giving money to what amounts to Cardinal Law’s hush fund,” Post says. So far, settlement cases involving Geoghan have cost the Boston archdiocese an estimated $35 million.

Diverting contributions as a form of protest is not a new tactic: Chicago-based Call to Action has held funds in escrow for members of St. Francis Xavier church in N.Y. City. Parishioners put their contributions in escrow when a new pastor there began to fire staff and rearrange priorities without involving the congregation. In 1998, parish leaders asked Daley’s office to hold the Christmas collection in escrow as leverage to help bring about change. “In a month or two, that pastor was removed from his job,” says Daley. “It wasn’t cause and effect, exactly. But withholding finances contributed to it.”

One recent Monday night at St. John the Evangelist, more than 200 people from at least 10 neighboring churches squeezed into the parish hall. Some stopped to greet Father Tom Powers, the pastor who supports the Voice of the Faithful but does not always attend meetings.

The session began with a hymn and prayers. First-time visitors stood up to introduce themselves. “I am the mother of a victim,” one woman said in a quivering voice. “Not by a priest, by a scout leader.” Her son, now in his 20s, was molested when he was 9 and has not recovered emotionally. She takes it personally that Boston Cardinal Law did not report priests accused of abuse under his jurisdiction to the police, including Geoghan and retired Father Paul Shanley, who were repeatedly accused of molesting minors from as far back as the late ‘60s.

“To watch my sweet child grow into an angry young man breaks my heart,” the mother said. “I can’t even look at the cardinal. I want him out of his office.”

Daley, in town for the meeting, sat with hands folded at the back of the room. “I came here to find out how the folks in Boston are dealing with things,” he says. “What happens in Boston will be terribly important for Catholics all across America. If Boston takes a strong stand, the church will never be the same again.”

Two hours into the meeting, 250 people were still trying to agree about the first sentence of a statement Muller’s team had drafted in response to Cardinal Law’s refusal to resign from his office.

The statement declared a loss of confidence in Law’s ability to govern effectively. It stated that a change in leadership was essential and called on the Vatican to meet with a delegation of laypeople from Boston that would provide a full report on the situation there.

When the resignation issue is resolved, the statement said, lay Catholics in the Boston archdiocese should be included in deciding who Law’s replacement will be.

The process is not easy for the members of Voice of the Faithful, and shared values notwithstanding, the particulars are hard to settle upon. Despite bursts of applause, particularly at the suggestion that a Boston delegation should visit the Vatican and that lay Catholics should help choose his replacement, the group could not all agree on the terms and language of the statement. Some argued that it is still too early to make demands; others that the tone of the letter was too angry.

In attempting to estimate the will of the majority, more than 200 voted in favor of the statement, if not the precise wording. Eight were opposed to at least part of the statement. “We want this to be a safe place for different opinions,” Muller said, still hoping to reach a consensus. The arguing continued.

Twenty-five minutes later, several dozen people had walked out in frustration. Maura O’Brien, a woman in her 30s who serves on the town council, suggested another vote. This time, the purpose was only to get “a sense of the group.” Two hundred nine voted in favor of the statement, nine could not accept it. From that night on, the room agreed, majority vote would rule.

“It was an extraordinarily difficult meeting,” Muller later said. “We’ll go to majority rule from now on. But I hope the most conservative members will see that Voice is a good home for them.” For two days after the meeting, Muller said, he was discouraged. But he has since changed his mind. “I’d call it birth pains,” he said.