Memories of a Thing that Maybe Never Was
About nine months ago, I wrote a paean to Nativity Parish in Fair Haven, New Jersey, the first Catholic parish where I really had a experience of God and of faith. The pastor of Nativity when we were there was Richard C. Brietzke. His name is on the list released today of priests in the Diocese of Trenton who have had "credible accusations" of abuse. According to this list, he was "removed from ministry."
What is interesting is that this seems to have come as a surprise to everyone. This article from the local paper suggests that this was not a known fact about him. This is backed up by a glowing piece in the Diocesan paper upon his retirement, providing no indication that anything was amiss. One wonders, though. Brietzke was the chancellor of the Diocese of Trenton in the 00s, during the period when, or so we are told repeatedly, the Roman Catholic Church "fixed" its problems with the Dallas Charter. And the man responsible for implementing those provisions, at least in part, was someone who eventually had at least one credible accusation of abuse directed against him. Did he cover up his own abuse? Did he cover up for others, knowing that the same spotlight could be turned on him? How did he treat victims, knowing that his victims were out there?
This assumes, of course, that the abuse occurred prior to his time as chancellor, but I suppose we don't know that. Law of averages suggests that, whatever the claim that gave rise to his removal, there were likely violations prior to his time as chancellor--one generally doesn't begin to molest people in one's 60s. This means that it is very likely that he had abused or was abusing while we were there.
I still remember going in for my first Reconciliation. It was in his office, and he sat across from me in a chair. Nothing happened, other than me telling him whatever trivial sins a seven year old is able to come up with, and him telling me there was nothing to worry about. But now, with this in mind, I wonder. Did I dodge a bullet? Was one of the other kids in my 2nd grade CCD group a victim? It feels a little bit like coming inches from being hit by a car that you never saw coming, and didn't realize how close you came to serious injury until much later. It is all but impossible to put yourself in the place of the 7 year old version of yourself and try to spin out what would have happened if it had been you. But, one thing is clear--it would have been unspeakably, unimaginably awful. As I type this, I feel the archetypal chill run down my spine.
Does this change the way I look back on Nativity? I think it has to. I'm not sure how, exactly--I found out about this an hour or so ago when my mother texted me about it, so I'm still turning it over in my mind. But I don't think you can unknow this, not see the danger that was lurking in the shadows cast by the light, not discount your own positive experiences when compared to the horror someone experienced. It is hard to not think at least part of what I experienced was fake, a play put on to distract people from what was going on behind the scenes.
But I suppose the thing that is on my mind more than anything else is the victim, or victims, whoever they are. I hope he/she/they are doing OK, or at least as OK as can be expected under the circumstances. The release of this name is no doubt more trauma for them, and so I hope they are doing all right today of all days. I hope they have found some measure of peace and healing. I will almost assuredly never know them and they never me, but I am thinking about them, and if they would indulge me, praying for them. I guess I don't know what else to do.
What is interesting is that this seems to have come as a surprise to everyone. This article from the local paper suggests that this was not a known fact about him. This is backed up by a glowing piece in the Diocesan paper upon his retirement, providing no indication that anything was amiss. One wonders, though. Brietzke was the chancellor of the Diocese of Trenton in the 00s, during the period when, or so we are told repeatedly, the Roman Catholic Church "fixed" its problems with the Dallas Charter. And the man responsible for implementing those provisions, at least in part, was someone who eventually had at least one credible accusation of abuse directed against him. Did he cover up his own abuse? Did he cover up for others, knowing that the same spotlight could be turned on him? How did he treat victims, knowing that his victims were out there?
This assumes, of course, that the abuse occurred prior to his time as chancellor, but I suppose we don't know that. Law of averages suggests that, whatever the claim that gave rise to his removal, there were likely violations prior to his time as chancellor--one generally doesn't begin to molest people in one's 60s. This means that it is very likely that he had abused or was abusing while we were there.
I still remember going in for my first Reconciliation. It was in his office, and he sat across from me in a chair. Nothing happened, other than me telling him whatever trivial sins a seven year old is able to come up with, and him telling me there was nothing to worry about. But now, with this in mind, I wonder. Did I dodge a bullet? Was one of the other kids in my 2nd grade CCD group a victim? It feels a little bit like coming inches from being hit by a car that you never saw coming, and didn't realize how close you came to serious injury until much later. It is all but impossible to put yourself in the place of the 7 year old version of yourself and try to spin out what would have happened if it had been you. But, one thing is clear--it would have been unspeakably, unimaginably awful. As I type this, I feel the archetypal chill run down my spine.
Does this change the way I look back on Nativity? I think it has to. I'm not sure how, exactly--I found out about this an hour or so ago when my mother texted me about it, so I'm still turning it over in my mind. But I don't think you can unknow this, not see the danger that was lurking in the shadows cast by the light, not discount your own positive experiences when compared to the horror someone experienced. It is hard to not think at least part of what I experienced was fake, a play put on to distract people from what was going on behind the scenes.
But I suppose the thing that is on my mind more than anything else is the victim, or victims, whoever they are. I hope he/she/they are doing OK, or at least as OK as can be expected under the circumstances. The release of this name is no doubt more trauma for them, and so I hope they are doing all right today of all days. I hope they have found some measure of peace and healing. I will almost assuredly never know them and they never me, but I am thinking about them, and if they would indulge me, praying for them. I guess I don't know what else to do.
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