The Catholic Church in Ireland might consider giving up lawyers for lent, suggests Religious Affairs Correspondent, Patsy McGarry
Today is Ash Wednesday and the beginning of that season when, until recently, Catholics were encouraged to "give up" something, as penance for sins past. Nowadays of course the emphasis is on more positive action, usually on doing something to promote social justice.
In either context it would be appropriate for the Catholic Church in Ireland to seriously consider giving up lawyers for Lent. It might even consider doing so permanently.
There can be little doubt that lawyers have been the bane of the church when it has come to its handling of the entire clerical child sex abuse saga, here and elsewhere. And not just civil lawyers but also canon lawyers. Again and again they have betrayed the church's repeatedly proclaimed concern, above all else, with being compassionate in meeting such cases.
Instead, lawyers' seeming dry indifference to the further pain they cause, combined with an emphasis on an adversarial style, has helped more to undermine the church's pastoral credibility in dealing with these tragedies than all the normal incompetencies that can be a feature when any institution is first confronted with the awful and unfamiliar.
Examples of the destructiveness of lawyers let loose in such delicate territory abound and are familiar to most journalists who have been dealing with this issue over recent years.
These help illustrate, graphically, the twin-track - some might say hypocritical - approach adopted by the church when dealing with this fraught issue.
On the one hand there is the pious sincerity of church leaders' assertions that the victim is the priority. At the conclusion of each case in which yet another priest has been sentenced to jail for sexually abusing children a familiar statement is issued by the relevant bishop. This in instances also where the church's behaviour prior to and during a Garda investigation has left a lot to be desired.
It offers heartfelt sympathy to victims and their families; whatever help may be required and, sometimes, meetings with victims. Where settlements are concerned it frequently follows an action which was seriously hard fought behind the scenes before agreement was arrived at.
An example of the latter would be the case of Mervyn Rundle - against the Dublin archdiocese - settled so dramatically in January. He initiated the action in October 1995. It took him 6½ years to secure the settlement and an acknowledgement by Cardinal Connell that in 1985 Mervyn had been abused by Father Thomas Naughton and that, had concerns conveyed to the archdiocese before then about the priest been acted on, the abuse might not have occurred.
"The paramount concern for the future is the protection of all children against the risk of sexual abuse," the cardinal continued, repeating that sentiment following just about all other such cases. The template he employs is precisely that used by his brother bishops in similar circumstances.
Those of us reporting on this area over recent years are all too familiar with this tough cop (lawyer) soft cop (prelate) approach, sometimes indeed personally, in dealing with cases. We have, on occasion, found ourselves listening, sometimes impatiently, to the "if only we knew" pleadings of senior clergy with one ear, while with the other we are being assailed by lawyers threatening fire, brimstone, or at the least awful and terrible legal action if we dare repeat in print what the dogs in the street know to be true.
It can prove very difficult at times to square that particular circle, not least as, in law, the lawyers are acting on their client's (the church's) instructions.
And in those moments when the "civil" lawyers are comparatively silent, canon lawyers intrude with their assertions on the unassailable right of the church to conduct its affairs in secret - far from the madding eyes of mere Joe Public.
Letters received from church lawyers by some victims of clerical child sex abuse truly need to be seen to be believed. And in many instances, whether through statements to gardaí or from psychiatric reports, the answers to the questions are already well known to the lawyers.
But that does not prevent them from prying again into delicate undergrowth, usually demanding a repeat of responses as to the nature of the abuse and, in traditional confession style, how often. Some such letters have, outrageously in the circumstances, even queried whether payment was involved.
It might be argued that such questions must necessarily be put by a lawyer when they form part of the claim made against a client. But surely not when the answers have already been supplied. What is the purpose of putting them again? Softening up prior to agreeing a settlement figure? Humiliation? Intimidation?
It may be good legal practice to adopt such an approach to a sex abuse victim in defending the interests of the church. But one has to ask where is the first commandment in all this? Where is the love of neighbour? Where is the love of God? Where is the love at all?
Taking legal advice, it seems!