The Catholic League, Saint Patrick and the Labyrinthine Ways
. . . The part of St. Patrick's story about being carried off by marauders and forced into six years of slavery is seen through the eyes of Irish history as part of the "lucky charm" of St. Patrick's life. Think about that! I doubt very much that it felt that way at age sixteen. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time - or the right place at the right time depending on your point of view.Would Patrick be Saint Patrick without that awful six years of his life? I doubt it. We're in an unholy quagmire if we're hell-bent on shedding where we are in life, or where we've been. God's pursuit of us calls not just our halo, but our shadow as well. We can leave neither behind, and there's no point in running. Just as with "that look" my Irish mother mastered, resistance is futile. . . .
The Eighth Commandment
. . . Last month, a Massachusetts high school teacher was exonerated after facing a nearly identical plight. A 14-year-old student accused him of sexual assault. Months later, his life in near ruins, the teacher was exonerated at trial when it was learned that the girl made up the story because the teacher had reprimanded her in class. Here in prison, men often joke about how easy it is to set someone up in this way. Some have openly asked me for the names of priests who might have been present in their childhood communities so they can bring an accusation for money. (See "Sex Abuse and Signs of Fraud.").A few months ago, a self-described member of Voice of the Faithful wrote a scathing message to me. The writer, a retired teacher, declared that any effort to revisit the case against me is "nothing but a misguided right-wing conspiracy."The man's criticism was responded to by a friend who asked him what makes him feel so immune in an arena in which anyone can be accused by anyone, from decades ago, and with no evidence whatsoever. His blustering response was, "I have absolutely no fear of EVER being accused of such a thing." Well, neither did Michael Gallagher. Neither did I until it happened. . . .