For generations, our families have built our lives around the Catholic Church. In South Louisiana, Catholicism isn’t just a belief—it’s culture, identity, and community. Many of us grew up believing that the Church was our safe haven, that its priests were our spiritual fathers, that it stood as a beacon of holiness and moral clarity in a broken world.
But what happens when the Church betrays that trust?
For those who have spoken out about the sexual abuse crisis, the cost has been high. We have lost friends. We have lost faith communities. Some, like my own family, have even been excommunicated. And we are not alone. Across the country, thousands of survivors—many from deeply devout Catholic families—have suffered in silence while the institution that was meant to protect them shielded their abusers instead.
Even now, in an era of widespread media coverage and public awareness, many Catholics still struggle to confront the depth of this crisis. Not because they don’t care, but because the truth is devastating. And so, rather than face it head-on, many well-meaning Catholics reframe reality—choosing instead to cling to an idealized version of the Church, rather than the painful reality of what it has become.
A Dangerous Narrative: The Church as the ‘Wounded Bride’
We saw this recently in a social media post by Fr. Sensat, a priest who beautifully describes the Church as holy, loving, and above the political and cultural fray. He acknowledges that outsiders see corruption and failure, but insists that the true Church remains beautiful beneath the “muck.” His lament is poetic, heartfelt, and deeply persuasive.
But it is also a distraction.
Priests like Fr. Sensat believe they are preserving the Church by reminding us of her beauty. But in reality, they are preserving the institution at the expense of its victims.
Rather than acknowledging the full weight of the institution’s sins, this kind of rhetoric shifts responsibility—suggesting that the real tragedy is not the Church’s betrayal of its people, but rather that people no longer see her beauty.
This is not repentance. This is manipulation.
A Church that claims to stand with the suffering must not romanticize its own failings. It must not frame itself as a misunderstood victim when it has, in reality, been the perpetrator of grave injustices.
Why This Thinking is So Dangerous
Many local Catholics are not indifferent to the abuse crisis. They are simply being misled into thinking that the best way to “love the Church” is to defend her against criticism.
But ask yourself this:
- When a priest abuses a child, who does the Church protect first—the child, or the priest?
- When a survivor comes forward, does the Church embrace them—or dismiss them?
- When institutions cover up crimes, should they be shielded from scrutiny—or held accountable?
For too long, our community has been told that loyalty to the Church means silence. That defending the institution is more important than defending the innocent.
But loyalty to the Gospel demands something different.
Just as the Church has inserted itself into politics and financial systems to protect its influence, it also inserts itself into conversations about abuse—not to correct injustice, but to control the narrative. The same institution that secures billions in government aid to maintain its operations knows exactly how to manipulate public perception when it comes to its own crimes. And in doing so, it ensures that its own power structure remains untouched.
The True Path to Healing
The Church does not need more poetic defenses. It needs radical repentance.
- If the Church is truly the Bride of Christ, then let her prove it—not in words, but in action.
- If the Church is truly about justice, then let her dismantle the systems that enabled abuse.
- If the Church is truly holy, then let her fall to her knees—not just in apology, but in true accountability.
Survivors are not attacking the Church. They are calling it to be what it claims to be. And those who love the Church must stop seeing this as a battle between “defenders” and “critics.” Instead, we must recognize that loving the Church means refusing to let her sins be covered up.
Because in the end, what kind of faith do we pass on to our children if we refuse to confront the truth?
The choice is before us.
Do we continue looking away, comforting ourselves with poetic words?
Or do we finally love the Church enough to demand that she be worthy of our trust?
