Render Unto Rome_ The Secret Life of Money in the Catholic Church - Jason Berry [184]
Borré wrote on behalf of thirty-one groups from eight dioceses—Boston; Cleveland; New Orleans; New York; Buffalo; Scranton; Allentown, Pennsylvania; and Springfield, Massachusetts. Remarking on the four Boston groups “inside their churches round-the-clock, peacefully and prayerfully,” since October 2004, the letter evinces Gullo’s influence in explaining that there “have been no violations of the Magisterium or of canon law”—a sober bow of deference to the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith. Moreover: “The most striking development within these communities has been an intensified devotion to Our Blessed Mother, with frequent praying of the Rosary during the vigils, something well beyond what was customary before the suppression of these parishes.”
The letter rolls between a Romanesque style of religious salute and deference, registering a within-the-cloth sensibility of believers in a dialogue over prudent religious governance, and an American intercutting of facts to support the core argument. “More than one thousand American parishes have either been closed, or are scheduled to close in the near future. And this number will multiply several times over in the years ahead”—a period of great social stress, “of material hardship not experienced since the Great Depression.”
Much of the document reviews canonical procedures, decisions already handed down, demographic data on the American church, and a review of the financial impact of the clergy abuse litigation.
In the letter’s request for structured meetings, facilitators, “norms of respect and courtesy for all persons involved,” and a deadline to convene the mediation with a suggested time frame to address the crisis, the tone echoes the elemental courteousness and mannered ways of the Curia. Nothing about the long document was disrespectful of the Holy See, though the synopsis of decisions by certain prelates, notably Seán O’Malley and Richard Lennon, made clear the feelings of shock caused by their decisions.
Borré was invited to meet with a midlevel official in the Secretariat of State, whose name he shared with me on background. As Borré tells it, he provided a more textured overview of the various parishes, the issues, media coverage, and financial implications, particularly the deepening deficit in Boston. The Vatican official nodded. He seems to get it, thought Borré. He left with cautious optimism, hoping that the notes the priest had taken would be distilled into a formal report for his superiors, and possibly reach the desk of Cardinal Bertone, the secretary of state.
Borré’s letter to the Secretariat of State made fleeting reference to, as he put it, sending police “to arrest Catholics in their churches” by Cardinal Egan in New York and Archbishop Alfred Hughes in New Orleans. Referencing Boston, he noted, “to call in the police to arrest the vigilers … would cause great harm to the archdiocese.” The police action in New Orleans nearly provoked a riot.
NEW ORLEANS: WHO ARE THESE PEOPLE?
When Hurricane Katrina hit on August 29, 2005, more than a million people from the greater urban area evacuated; as they returned, people worked frenetically on cell phones to position themselves on work lists of contractors who converged for rebuilding homes and businesses. The flood saturated 80 percent of the city: an area seven times the size of Manhattan sat in saltwater for nearly a month. “God has brought us to our knees in the face of disaster,” said Archbishop Hughes. “We are so overwhelmed, we don’t really know how to respond. Powerlessness leads us to prayer.”3
No one doubted the piety of Al Hughes, a short, balding, modest man. His personality exuded humility, but his credibility had been badly damaged three years earlier in the city’s clergy abuse scandals, for which he made humble apologies as guilty priests were sent away. Hughes had gotten his start in Boston