Catholics on LI react with relief, skepticism to diocese's settlement with clergy abuse survivors

Many Catholics on Long Island say they are relieved the long battle over compensating survivors of clergy sexual abuse is near its end, but they diverge on whether the ordeal has shattered their trust in the church.

For some, the scandal has left them deeply skeptical and disgusted by a church that covered up the abuse for years, and then — in their opinion — dragged its feet in reaching a settlement. After four years of negotiations in federal bankruptcy court, the Diocese of Rockville Centre agreed on Sept. 26 to pay $323 million to about 600 survivors of abuse that in some cases dated back decades.

Other Catholics on Long Island say that while the abuse scandal was horrific, it did not destroy their devotion to the church, which they still see as an institution doing much good.

Whatever their view, most Catholics interviewed by Newsday said they hope the church can move on from the worst scandal in its history since it was founded in 1957.

“I’m just glad it’s settled, and the church accepted responsibility for covering up for these bad players,” said Sandy Thomas, a parishioner at Our Lady of the Miraculous Medal Church in Wyandanch who nonetheless has other issues with the diocese, such as what she calls its lack of attention to the social justice teachings of the Roman Catholic Church.

The $323 million settlement stems partly from the state's 2019 Child Victims Act, which temporarily allowed sex abuse survivors to file lawsuits regardless of how long ago the abuse occurred. The Diocese of Rockville Centre declared bankruptcy on Oct. 1, 2020, saying potential payments from the law could lead to financial ruin. Hundreds of civil cases against the church were then transferred to bankruptcy court, with the settlement announced last month just days before the four-year anniversary of the bankruptcy.

Survivors are expected to start receiving payments early next year.

The bankruptcy and the abuse scandal, which first broke in 2002, rocked the diocese, one of the largest in the nation with 1.2 million Catholics living on Long Island. That number has fallen from 1.5 million on Long Island in 2014.

The bankruptcy forced the diocese to sell some of its prime properties, including its headquarters in Rockville Centre and 200 acres of land at its seminary in Lloyd Harbor. The settlement was among the largest for any Catholic diocese in the nation.

A sense of justice for survivors

Rick Hinshaw, a former editor of The Long Island Catholic — the diocese’s now-defunct official newspaper — said the payout won’t heal all the wounds of the survivors, but perhaps can provide them with some sense of justice. The diocese had to balance paying the survivors fairly while remaining financially viable to continue its work in parishes, hospitals and schools, he said.

“This has been a terrible ordeal for abuse survivors. No amount of money can undo what was done,” he said. Hopefully the settlement “brings at least some sense of justice after all this time, that all their suffering has been recognized and compensated.”

Hinshaw said he hopes the settlement will help Catholics see that the church in the end tried to make amends, and that those who have fallen away will come back.

“I would hope they would see this settlement as a good-faith effort on the church’s part,” he said. “I’m troubled myself by Catholics who truly believed and believe that the Eucharist is the real presence, the true body and blood of Christ, and yet were turned away from attending Mass because of this horrific, sinful, criminal activity by some priests.”

Pat McDonough, a longtime Catholic educator in Nassau County, said she doubts she will come back to the institutional church, though she maintains her faith. She felt betrayed by the church’s handling of the scandal, including the settlement, and it has permanently affected her view of a church she devoted most of her life to.

“Millions and millions of dollars have been spent on the crimes of our clergy, but not a single priest or bishop will pay out of his pocket for his vile acts against the innocent," she said. “Everyone except the clergy pays — the donors who dropped money in the basket without demanding full financial transparency, the kids who won't get a Catholic education because our schools will close, the hungry and homeless, the sick and suffering.

“The hierarchy has proven that it protects only itself, and cannot be trusted to make choices based on the gospel and the greater good of the church,” she added. “We have to stop funding their facade.”

Church officials say they did their best over the decades to handle a phenomenon not widely understood at the time — pedophilia — and that they since have implemented strict procedures to assure a similar scandal never happens again.

Acknowledging crimes and pain

Mary Frances Jeffrey, a parishioner from Manhasset, said she was glad the diocese and the survivors reached a settlement, though “nothing can make up for the hurt, pain and betrayal that the victims have lived with for years.” As for the diocese, “It feels like there is an acknowledgment of the crimes and pain suffered for the first time. A true sense of remorse.”

But it was a long time coming, she said, and that has soured her view of the diocese.

“I can't help but think that if the church had honestly dealt with this issue when it first broke so many years ago instead of the covering up, moving of priests ... and so on, we would have this all behind us and the survivors would not have had to live this horrible journey all these years,” she said. “I wish they had trusted us — the Catholics in the pews who love Mother Church — by acknowledging what happened and dealing with it in the open.

“Yes, we would have been angry and possibly some would have left — but we would have come back because we love the teachings, we love our Catholic faith, we love our church. Like family, we can forgive when we are hurt. But be truthful and compassionate,” Jeffrey added.

Frank McQuade, a former priest for the diocese who is now a lawyer based in Long Beach, said he was pained by the scandal but tries to keep it in perspective amid everything else the church does. He said he would not abandon the diocese.

“I just hope it’s a very dark period that’s passed," he said. "One thing is for sure — it’s not what Jesus wanted. All of us have had to look very deeply into our institution. We’ve all kind of suffered."

But the church still has “credibility. It’s a great church. I think the priests that are there now are real servants … I have no intention of moving on. I’m very happy with the church,” McQuade said.

Hinshaw said the response of the diocese and the Catholic Church nationwide gave him some hope as it instituted strict measures to hopefully prevent any future sexual abuse. He hopes that not all priests will be blamed for the scandal.

“Tragically, the entire priesthood has been stigmatized by this horrific behavior of priests … for the most part now several decades ago, which doesn’t make it any less horrific,” he said. “But there are so many good priests that are working, really sacrificing, giving their lives to minister to people in their parishes … and they are stigmatized by this. And I would hope that we can move forward from that.”

Falling away from the church

Connie Loos spent 20 years working for the church, as a teacher at St. John the Baptist High School in West Islip and an administrator at Catholic Charities. But, she said, she grew increasingly angry at the church over issues such as its treatment of women. The church refused, for instance, to allow women to serve as deacons, who can perform some of the same sacraments as priests, such as baptizing people, preaching at Mass and officiating at weddings.

The scandal was the final straw for Loos and left her estranged from the church. There is no chance she will return, she said, regardless of the settlement.

“They are begrudgingly offering this” settlement, said Loos, who holds a master’s degree in theology from St. John’s University. “Right from the beginning, they lawyered up. They never apologized to people. The way it was handled was terrible and this settlement is not enough” for her to go back to the church, she said.

She feels so alienated that she has written into her will that she wants no Catholic Mass when she dies or to be buried in a Catholic cemetery, she said. She maintains her faith, though, and belongs to a meditation group made up of Catholics who have left the church.

Some Catholics, like McDonough and Jeffrey, have stopped giving money to the church, partly because of the scandal. 

“I stopped putting my envelope in the basket years ago because I felt as though it was being used to cover up these cases instead of dealing with it,” Jeffrey said.

Alice Harford, a Catholic who lives in Port Washington, said she plans to keep going to daily Mass and donating money, even if it is used to help pay off the settlement.

The scandal was “just sad and disturbing,” she said. “In a way, it’s good that it is finally settled, and they can move on.” But she also believes the scandal should not be seen as a reflection of the church in general.

“I think it was a very small percentage of priests that actually did this. These types of people are in all walks of life,” she said. “Maybe those people aren’t picked out as much as they pick out on the church. It’s like the church is under attack a lot.”

Some Catholics say that despite the controversy and their own anger, they are staying with the church.

Thomas, of Wyandanch, said she has been lucky to have progressive priests at her parish, and has found a niche of people devoted to social justice issues. They have formed a group, Roundtable for the Common Good, that includes members of a nearby synagogue and fights for issues such as bail reform.

“Very few dioceses, very few priests are advocating for social justice,” she said. “I am bothered by some of that, but where am I going to go?”