Masses Today

6.30 John Burke, (Anniv)
9.00 Free
11.00 Mary & John Lovett, Eva Daly, (Anniv)
12.15 People of the Parish
6.30 Martin & Kate Cleary, (Anniv)

AS I WAS SAYING...

It is been a traumatic week for the Catholic Church. The circumstances merit a context. Dr. Brendan Comiskey, the most sophisticated and cosmopolitan of the Irish bishops, found it necessary to resign. Comiskey was 'cosmopolitan' in that his background was completely different to that of his Episcopal peers. His personable style bore the unmistakable stamp of his American background. Washington, rather than Rome or Maynooth, was his lodestar. And, in truth, Rome never liked him.

Educated in the United States, he was elected Head of the Irish/English branch of his Religious congregation in his mid-thirties. His obvious talents received immediate recognition when he was elected Secretary of the Conference of Major Religious Superiors (then CMRS, now CORI). In that capacity he emerged as a skilled negotiator in the 'wind-down' of Religious personnel in National and Secondary schools. His star continued its ascent and the invisible 'king-makers' at home and in Rome took note. By 1980 he was Auxiliary bishop of Dublin.

But, within a relatively short time, it was an open secret in the diocese that all was not well. The then Archbishop, the late Dermot Ryan -a formidable character by any standards- and Brendan Comiskey were not swinging on the same gate. Or, more accurately perhaps, the one gate was not of sufficient strength to accommodate two such heavyweights. Whether true or false, Comiskey found himself a surprised bishop of Ferns within a short time. Like John Henry Newman in Dublin over a century before, Comiskey was 'thrown among strangers'. He was keenly aware of this and, on his first day in Wexford, he used the title of a contemporary papal biography by one Mary Craig to describe his predicament: 'I am,' he observed, 'A man from a Far Country.' But the analogy was superficial. The original 'man from a far country' had the power to bring Poland to Rome. Comiskey was in no position to bring America- or even Monaghan- to Ferns.

If the truth were told, Comiskey's sojourn in Wexford was even more fraught with difficulties than was Newman's in Dublin. Comiskey had no connections in Wexford. I doubt if he knew even one of its priests. Usually, when a new bishop is appointed to a diocese other than his own, he can confidently count on the loyal support of classmates and connections from Maynooth days. Comiskey had no such safety net. Quite the opposite, in fact! He was a member of a Religious Order, a species traditionally held in low esteem in the diocese where he now found himself bishop! He had been, literally, parachuted in there. What flying instructions, if any, had he received? Was he alerted to the mines -and worse- that lay buried in his landing strip?

The ground on which he landed was indeed far from pleasant. In fact, from day one, he was up to his neck in a cesspit. And he would never fully emerge from it. For eighteen years, the whiff of corruption hung around him, unfairly obviously. The situation was not of making; yet, for whatever reason, he found it impossible to slay the dragon. A number of his flock (and, we must presume, a very small number) did him no favours. He found it necessary to publicly refute some very damaging rumours, and to threaten with litigation would-be publishers. Under intense pressure locally, his Achilles' Heel was exposed. In late 1995, he disappeared on hastily arranged sabbatical, but no one believed it. Within days the truth emerged, and it emerged from Brendan Comiskey himself. He was being treated for alcoholism in America. He handled that period of his life with great courage and with an admirable honesty, and the admiration was as genuine as it was general.

However, the albatross never left his shoulder. His handling of the child abuse allegations would not go away. And they would not go away because he handled them badly, or not at all. He admitted as much in his resignation speech: "I found Fr. Fortune virtually impossible to deal with. I confronted him regularly. For a time, I removed him from ministry. I sought professional advice....I tried compassion and I tried firmness....And yet I never managed to achieve any level of satisfactory outcome....I should have adopted a more informed and concerted effort in my dealings with him."

That last sentence is cryptic. What would have amounted to 'a more informed and concerted effort'? The obvious course of action would have been to contact the Gardai, report to presence of a suspected dangerous criminal in the diocese, and let the law of the land take its course. What prevented Brendan Comiskey from taking this course of action? Did his 'outsider' status impede him, deprive him of the necessary confidence to do the necessary? It is my guess a 'native' bishop would have taken up the phone and 'done the deed', not gladly, but dutifully and without much compunction. That may well be an over-simplification, and I'm sure it is. But I'm convinced that his 'outsider' status was a strong factor in Comiskey's isolation and undoing.

Of course this is all speculation, and speculating with hindsight at that! The 'whys' and the 'wherefores' are now irrelevant. What is important is that, on his own admission, the bishop failed to manage his diocese in a satisfactory manner. And that failure enabled the crimes of some, and sufferings of others, to continue unabated.

Ironically, those who suffered were the very ones who least desired his resignation. They judged that their cause would best be served by his continuing in office. Bishop Comiskey didn't see it that way himself. He saw himself now as an obstacle to the desired healing and reconciliation.

I believe history will vindicate the action he took on Monday last. While it may not serve the immediate cause of those who suffered abuse, his resignation has sent a clear signal: in future, Bishops and Religious Superiors who fail to act promptly and effectively when confronted with allegations of child sexual abuse will be expected to walk the plank that Brendan Comiskey walked. It is a terrible pity that such a humane character as Comiskey had to be the first. But yet, I believe, the action was necessary. A precedent has now been set. Resignation will henceforth be automatic. If his resignation diverts only a small stream through the Augean Stables, I'm sure Brendan Comiskey will come to look back upon Monday last as a good day. I sincerely hope he does.

Another canard has been slain too: that those who make allegations against priests are unstable, unscrupulous gold-diggers. The four young men who bravely faced the country with their stories gave the lie to that one. They were courageous, extremely articulate, and utterly reasonable in their demands. Justice and accountability was the agenda. Money was not an issue. Well done! A traumatic week? In the short term, yes. A bad week? In the long term, No! On the contrary!

-Dick Lyng.

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