Sexual Abuse and the Sacred Heart of Jesus

Note: This is a reblog from James Martin, SJ. He is culture editor of America magazine and author of The Jesuit Guide to (Almost) Everything. This essay is adapted from a longer post at “In All Things.” This has been published at America and The Huffington Post.

Today Catholics mark the Feast of the Sacred Heart of Jesus. Permit me a meditation on the Sacred Heart and, believe it or not, the way that this traditional devotion, typically derided as outmoded and old-fashioned, can help the Catholic Church address some of the factors behind the sexual abuse crisis.

(Now some advice for my atheist and agnostic friends: You’ll want to skip the next few paragraphs, because what follows is some heavy-duty Catholic piety that I promise you’re not going to like. )

In the late 1600s in Paray-le-Monial, France, Margaret Mary Alacoque, a Visitation sister, began receiving visions of Jesus. In a series of mystical experiences, Jesus appeared to St. Margaret Mary, showing her his “Sacred Heart.” Unfortunately, Margaret Mary had a tough time getting anyone in her convent take her or her intimations in prayer seriously. (This if often the lot of the saints in religious orders: no one believes them.)

Close to despair, Margaret Mary heard Jesus in prayer tell her that he would send his “faithful servant and perfect friend.” A short time afterwards, Fr. Claude la Colombière, a French Jesuit on his “tertianship” assignment (the last stage of formal Jesuit training) showed up at her convent to be a spiritual director to the sisters. To the young Jesuit she confided her astonishing experiences in prayer, which Fr. Claude concluded were authentic.

An aside: being the “faithful servant and perfect friend” of Jesus is a good way of expressing the goal of every Christian life. (Perfect Friend is also the title of a now hard-to-find biography of St. Claude by Georges Guitton, first published in 1956, which made a deep impression on me as a Jesuit novice.)

Since then, devotion to the Sacred Heart of Jesus has been part of the mission and spirituality of the Society of Jesus, aka the Jesuits. But lately the devotion has been viewed by many in as “outmoded” in the post-Vatican II Catholic world. Too many kitschy dime-store paintings of the Sacred Heart, too many cheesy statues where Jesus has a dopey look on his face, seemed to have doomed this devotion to spiritual obscurity and religious irrelevance. But we neglect it at our peril: It is a powerful symbol of the Love of God that needs to be recovered in a world filled with hatred and bitterness. And it can help us as we address a church riven by the scandal of sexual abuse.

But first let me share a favorite contemporary meditation on the Sacred Heart. The first is an essay fromAmerica magazine (later collected in a book on devotions called Awake My Soul) by Christopher Ruddy, a theologian who teaches at Catholic University. Here’s my favorite part:

I did not grow up with any devotion to the Sacred Heart, and it is only in the last few years, as I have struggled with vocation and the demands of family life, that the practice has spoken to my own heart: the fearful heart that paralyzes me when I think of the future, rendering me unable to open myself in trust to God; the cramped heart that refuses to admit my wife and infant son, but clings to my own prerogatives, choosing to watch Peter out of the corner of my eye as I read the morning newspaper rather than get on the floor and play with him; the oblivious heart that holds forth at dinner on the recording history of The Beatles’s Abbey Road, but forgets to ask Deborah how her class went that afternoon. At times like these I wonder, have I really let into my life those I love so much? Have I gone out to them? Are they part of my flesh or merely fellow travelers?

On a particularly difficult afternoon last summer, I took Peter for a walk. We wound up at a church in our neighborhood, and, almost unable to bear the despair and self-loathing that was consuming me, I went in to pray. I lit a candle before Mary for my wife and one for myself before Joseph. Almost accidentally I stopped in front of a wood-carving of the Sacred Heart. Caught somewhere between rage and tears, I looked up at the heart and, for the first time, saw beyond the barbed-wire crown of thorns encircling it, into its gentleness. A prayer rose up in me, “Jesus, give me a bigger heart.” I looked at Peter in shame and in hope, and I went out into the day.

I remain irritable and irritating. I continue to struggle with a stoniness that shuts out so many. I know ever more clearly my deep sinfulness. But in continuing to pray to the Sacred Heart, I have also come to know God’s still deeper mercy. I am strengthened by a heart pierced but unvanquished. I am welcomed by a heart that knows only tenderness and so makes me tender. I look on that pulsing, fleshy heart: courageous and vulnerable, compact and capacious, never one without the other.

The image of the heart of Jesus still has a great deal to teach Christians, Catholics and the Catholic Church today. Especially today — in light of the sexual abuse crisis. To that end, a story.

Yesterday I was speaking with a Jesuit in my community about the idea of Jesus as a joyful person (part of a new book I’m working on). And he said spontaneously, “Oh he must have been!” I was surprised by his utter confidence in this.

“Why do you think so?” I asked.

“Because children wanted to be around him,” he said. “To me that indicates that he was a joyful and gentle person. Children don’t want to be with someone who is an ogre.”

Good point. Not surprisingly — since my friend mentioned children — I was put in mind of the sex abuse crisis. And I started to think about what the Sacred Heart can teach us.

In 2003, soon after the scandals broke in the United States, I participated in a panel discussion, at a large teaching hospital in New York City, on the topic of sexual abuse in the church. The audience was mainly health-care professionals, clergy and several victims of abuse. The panel included several psychologists and psychiatrists. After I gave my talk on what I saw as the causes of the abuse, a psychiatrist outlined the two main characteristics of abusers. (The proceedings were later gathered into a book called Predatory Priests, Silenced Victims.) It was an illuminating presentation that I’ve never forgotten. The two characteristics were narcissism and grandiosity.

The narcissist, said the psychiatrist, does not care how uncomfortable he makes a child — or anyone, for that matter — even if a child expresses or indicates discomfort. That is, an emotionally healthy person would know when another person is feeling uncomfortable. The narcissist does not, and so he persists in his abusive behavior. And, after the abuse is revealed, or the abuser is convicted of a crime, the narcissist personality mainly feels sorry for himself (or herself). Because, as the saying goes, it is all about him.

The abuser with grandiose feelings, the psychiatrist explained, is the “Pied Piper,” the larger-than-life personality, the frequent Lone Ranger, who figures into so many abuse narratives. The person who attracts children into his orbit through the sheer force of his personality. The person in whom parents mistakenly place their trust because of his “gifts” with children. The person whom bishops and religious superiors give a wide berth, or even give a pass, because of his “unique” ministry.

Both of these characteristics — narcissism and grandiosity — are devastating for anyone in ministry. Yet they are the hallmarks, said the psychiatrist, of the abuser. And the priest-abuser.

How much the Sacred Heart still has to teach Catholics — especially today. For narcissism and grandiosity are the opposite of the way that Jesus loved. He did not love to serve himself, nor did he love to be seen as “more than” others. Indeed, he “emptied himself,” as St. Paul said in the Letter to the Philippians. And though Jesus naturally attracted people to himself, it was never to fulfill his own desires for grandiose plans: indeed, he rejected all of those plans in the desert.

The Sacred Heart is not narcissistic and grandiose but selfless and humble. Jesus’s heart is the model for the hearts of all in Christian ministry, and for all who wish to be his “faithful servant and perfect friend.”

May all Catholics and the Catholic Church, with God’s grace, be freed from narcissism and grandiosity. And may the Sacred Heart, this “courageous and vulnerable” love of Jesus, be our goal as we move ahead in a broken church.

Should We Preserve the Santacruzan?

The growing consciousness of the important role of women in Christian faith has been brought about by many feminist Catholic theologians and their continuous writings on the subject.

But long before this consciousness came about, the Filipino community particularly the Tagalogs concocted a popular retelling of biblical and historical female personages who contributed to the faith. It culminates with Queen Helena (Reyna Elena) who embarked on a pilgrimage to find the true cross of Christ. In the religious pageant, Reyna Elena is accompanied by a young Constantine who became the first emperor to make Christianity the official religion of the Roman empire. In towns who really know the tradition, they have San Macario mounted on a carroza. St. Macarius accompanied the Queen to the Holy Land.

There is no clear history as to the Santacruzan’s origins. The Tagalog region credits the beginning of the santacruzan or the Sta. Cruz de Manila after the declaration of the dogma of the Immaculate Conception on 8 December 1854. In 1867, Mariano Sevilla translated and published the devotional Flores de Maria or the “Mariquit na Bulaclac na sa Pagninilaynilay sa Buong Buan nang Mayo ay Inihahandog nang manga Devoto cay Maria Santisima” (The Flowers of Mary or the Beautiful Flowers Prayer for the whole month of May is dedicated by the devotees to Mary, most holy).

Since the Filipinos have a great devotion to the Holy Mother, a pageantry that involves a retelling of stories of faith will gain a large following. Philippine festivals begins in the first week of May with the Flores de Mayo. In some parts of the country, May is the time of fiestas and celebrations. To certain towns whose patron is San Isidro Labrador, the patron of farmers, revelry has already began with the Pahiyas of Quezon and the Carabao festival of Pulilan, Bulacan. A few towns away, the dancers of Obando are already twirling to the fandango. While the Boholanos are homeward bound for a series of town fiestas. So, while everyone is in a celebratory mood, the Santacruzan is held as the culminating event of the Maytime festivities everywhere. No wonder it holds the title, Queen of all Philippine Festivals.

The line-up of the Santacruzan tells a story. It begins with the ceriales: a cross, two candles, and in many processions, even with the boat of incense and the censer. Altar boys carrying the ceriales lead any religious procession. It tells you that the event has spiritual and catechetical significance. It is officially recognized by the Church as a practice of piety. The event therefore begins and ends in the town’s church.

A proper Santacruzan will begin with Methuselah, the legendary man who lived a thousand years. He is usually a child with a beard riding a cariton. He fries (at least acts like stirring) rice over a wok. He is a reminder that whatever glitters does not stay forever. What matters in life are the ones that are eternal.

After that, the Philippine context is put to the fore with Reyna Banderadas, who wears a red, white and blue terno and holding, obviously, the Philippine flag. Sometimes, we have Aetas to symbolize our pre-Hispanic lives before the coming of Christianity and Reyna Mora follows to tell us about the dominant religion during the time.

The coming of Christianity is symbolized by the virtues of faith (Reyna Fe with a cross), hope (Reyna Esperanza with an anchor) and charity (Reyna Caridad with a red heart). And then follows the sagalas Abogada who defends the poor, Sentenciada who symbolizes the innocents sentenced to death by King Herod, and Justicia who carries a scale.

The Biblical characters are next. The women of the Old Testament occupy a prominent place in the event. Reina Saba is the Queen of Sheba who sought Solomon for his wisdom. Infanta Judith is the judge who killed Holofernes to save her people. And finally, a personal favorite, Reina Esther is the Jewish Queen of Persia who protected her exiled people in Babylon from persecution.

The women of the Passion and Death of Christ succeeds the Old Testament characters. Veronica with the image of Christ on a cloth walks before the Tres Marias: Mary Magdalene with a perfume bottle, Maria Jacobe with a broom, Maria Salome with an incenser or oil. To add more sagalas, some will carry objects that would remind us of the Passion of Jesus: the money bag of Judas, the rooster of Peter, the spear and nails of the crucifixion.

In santacruzans that incorporate the Flores de Mayo, the final group are the titles of Mary. Usually eight children with the letters AVE MARIA head this part of the procession. Reina de las Estrellas (Queen of Stars) carries a star attached to a wand while Reina de las Propetas has an hour glass. Reina Cielo (Queen of Heaven), Reina de la Paz (Queen of Peace), Reina de las Flores and then Rosa Mistica hold a bouquet of flowers.

Finally, Reyna Elena highlights the procession. Queen Helena carries the cross with the young Constantine with her. She walks demurely under a decorated arc, usually well-lit and carried by the most handsome boys of the town. However, in towns whose prominent families pride themselves when their daughters are given recognition, they would give anything to secure that dream. Many santacruzans extend the title: you can have as many Reyna Elenas as you want, but the star is called, the Emperatriz.

As unassuming as he was, San Macario follows quietly. In identifying the true cross, St. Macarius of Jerusalem suggested that an ill woman be touched by the three crosses. One cross healed the woman instantly. Upon Emperor Constantine’s wish, a church was built on Christ’s sepulcher; the church became a basilica in the later years.

A band and a choir sings “Dios Te Salve Maria” in Latin. When it gets tired, they shift to English and the vernacular versions of Ave Maria to add some variety to a repetitive chant.

The santacruzan then ends in the town’s church. The parish priest blesses all who participated. The people then proceeds to the dinner venue usually the town plaza or gym where the santacruzan ball will also be held. The sagalas and their escorts finally dance the night away. After all, they spent a lot on their outfits.

Does the santacruzan have a future?

Celebrations are vital elements in a culture. As much as we preserve our artifacts in a museum to remember our past, and our written heritage is bound in libraries, we should make an equal effort to study our ritual traditions. How we do things contributes to our identity as Filipinos.

And like all celebrations, the santacruzan has to be nurtured by a people who acknowledges its significance not just in faith but in terms of building communities. We can do this by incorporating the history and the role of the santacruzan as part of our lessons in classrooms or lectures about our heritage.

Or see the potential in its creative concept.

The reason many of our citizens do not have a sense of our nationhood can be attributed to a lack of a collective memory. If Christians celebrate the bible that contains a collection of stories of faith, then Filipinos are brought together by a common memory.

Now a weird and wild idea. There are many women who continued to nurture our faith even after Queen Helena. If the santacruzan is a Philippine festival and its characters are extended depending on the number of sagalas, why can’t we extend or add another santacruzan-type of procession having the women in our history that contributed in nation-building?

Think: Melchora Aquino and Gabriela Silang on the runway? Cory Aquino in yellow? Or our mothers whose sweat and blood made us who we are today. Perhaps, we can re-tell our stories every year, so that our children remembers that building a nation is a contribution of who we are, what we have and what we hope for.

The Fertility Dances of Obando: Will You Dance to Get What You Desire?

We do everything in our power to get what we truly desire. Even if they find themselves like fools, many childless couples are more than willing to dance to the saints of Obando, Bulacan just to have that one child they have been praying for years.

The Scriptures have more than one story about barren women granted what they deeply desired. Sarah, the wife of Abraham, bore Isaac in her old age (Gen 16-21). Isaac married Rebekah who never bore children in their 20 years of marriage, until the Lord blessed them with two children, Jacob and Esau. Isaac pleaded to the Lord to grant that wish (Gen 25:21). Rachel, the true love of Jacob, finally had Joseph and Benjamin. The wife of Manoah had Samson (Judges 13) and Hannah had Samuel after years of supplication at the Temple. And the most famous was Elizabeth, the wife of Zechariah, who found herself blessed when she bore John the Baptist in her womb (Luke 1).

And thus to the most devout during the Spanish Period in the Philippines, when there was no way to determine who was infertile among couples, the women were usually to blame. And so, in Jose Rizal’s Noli Me Tangere, Dona Pia, the wife of Kapitan Tiago, went to Obando to do that fertility dance to Sta. Clara, Sta. Maria de Salambao and San Pascual Baylon. Upon the advice of Padre Damaso, that pilgrimage gave us the damsel Maria Clara, whose birth caused the death of her mother. Whether it was a grant by the saints or the cause of a coerced coupling, Maria Clara and Obando went into history. Maria Clara was a combination of the two saints who granted the couple’s wish for a child. The unmentioned third saint was punished because he did not grant a son, the wish of both Kapitan Tiago and Dona Pia.

To this day, people still sing and dance the song to its most senior patron:

Sta. Clara, pinung pino

Ang pangako ko’y ganito:

Pagdating ko sa Obando,

Sasayaw ako ng pandanggo.

Sta. Clara, pinung pino

Ako po’y bigyan ninyo,

Ng asawang labin pito,

Sa golpe ay walang reklamo.

What’s the story of Sta. Clara and the Obando fertility dance?

Rewind to pre-Hispanic era.

As in Scripture, virtue is found in fertility; only later in Christianity do we find value in virginity. As Sarah, Rebekah, Rachel, the wife of Manoah, Hannah and Elizabeth suffered social scorn, barren women in Philippine pagan society belong to the lowest social rank. When there was no science to intervene or discover if the condition is actually not the woman’s but the man’s, or herbal medications to make pregnancy possible, the recourse was to do the fertility dances to their anitos.

When a Franciscan built a chapel dedicated to Sta. Clara, the fertility dances continued. Mission work took the cue from St. Gregory the Great: pagan rites could be neutralized by establishing a Christian counterpart.

The second personage was San Pascual Baylon: his name “Baylon” was close to the word, “baele” thus he became the saint “who dances” and thus, the dances became Christianized. His patronage coincided with the establishment of Obando. In the past, there was Barangay Catangalang, named after the red mangrove forest found in the area. It was part of Polo. When Polo separated from Meycauayan in 1623, Governor General of the Islands, the Marquis Jose Francisco de Obando y Solis, decreed on May 14, 1753, that Catangalang would carry his name. With the change of name, the parish priest allowed a tribute for the making of a church that would replace the visita of Sta. Clara. The new patron was someone known to have danced before the statue of the Virgin Mary: He was no other than San Pascual Baylon.

The third personage was Our Lady of Salambao. Salambao means a fishing net. The legend had two fishermen, Juan and Julian de la Cruz who caught the image of the Immaculate Conception in their salambao. Days later, the parish priest of Obando got the image and enshrined it in the new church.

And thus, with these three saints, Obando became a pilgrimage center. And so the religious pageantry began. Patrons of Obando would leave food outside of their houses for the pilgrims in their nine-day novena. During these days, pilgrims could expect board and lodging from the residents of Obando. Unfortunately, the hospitality in the once secluded town had ended with the advent of modern transportation and commerce.

But like many traditions people find meaningful, the dances continued to flourish today and especially celebrated on from the 17th to the 19th of May. The songs are still dedicated to Sta. Clara who witnessed the transfer of attention from anito to santo.

And what does the Church say about this? There is no official condemnation.

As a priest, I agree. Traditions like the dances are community events whatever their history. They are supported by the people who found these traditions meaningful and worthy to practice until eternity. It survives because every year, there are success stories of childless couples finally having the baby they’ve been waiting for. Many so-called “intellectuals” will cringe from this type of popular piety, but wait till their deepest desires can’t be had even with the best of medicine and their show of money.

What’s a little tryst in Obando compared to the millions one spend for the sole wish that would fulfill one’s life?

However, many do not have a million.

They only have God.

And there are written and oral stories that support what we all know: With God, nothing is impossible.

Sometimes, you have to be a fool to show how much you really desire what you are praying for.