A History of Selective Silence
For decades, faithful Catholics have watched bishops and cardinals fall painfully silent on the crises that have torn the Church from within. When the Boston Globe Spotlight investigation exposed systemic clerical abuse in 2002… when the Massachusetts Attorney General released its 2003 report detailing how dioceses concealed abusers… when the 2005 Philadelphia and the 2018 Pennsylvania Grand Jury reports revealed fresh waves of administrative cover-ups… many in the hierarchy responded not with the fire of prophets but with carefully worded, liability-proof statements.
When it comes to the issue of clerical abuse, there were no coordinated national campaigns, no sweeping outcries, and no urgent pastoral mobilization. Most statements were minimal, overly cautious, or self-protective. Speaking boldly against corruption and sin would have cost something and many were unwilling to pay. The outcry we heard came mostly from the laity and a limited number of bishops and cardinals.
This selective silence has not been limited to the abuse crisis. Faithful Catholics have also endured decades of inconsistent messaging on fundamental moral issues—transgender ideology, abortion, contraception, and the breakdown of the family, to name only a few. Instead of clarity and unity, the faithful are often met with conflicting statements from individual bishops, leaving many spiritually disoriented. Where is the same passion and unity for the issues that strike at the very heart of Catholic life?
And let us not forget the painful memory of the COVID shutdowns. Churches closed. The Eucharist (the very center of our faith, the Living Bread) was withheld from the faithful. People died without the sacraments. Yet now, some of the very same priests and bishops who enforced those restrictions are suddenly finding the strength and courage to show up at ICE detention facilities to bring the Eucharist. Where was this boldness during COVID?
Yes, there were heroic priests who resisted and fought against the tyranny of that time. Others, regrettably, behaved more like dogs chained to a tree. They were silent, immobilized, and fearful. Catholics died alone and without the sacraments. The seriousness of this cannot be underestimated or ignored.
A Sudden Fire Only on Select Issues
Contrast all of this with the newly ignited moral fervor we see when the topic of illegal immigration arises.
Recently, the U.S. bishops released an emotional video condemning the “inhumanity” of certain deportation actions. It was polished, coordinated, pastorally charged, and unified.
Among one of the more vocal church leaders was Cardinal Blase Cupich whose video message was also filled with tenderness, urgency, and assurances of solidarity with migrants. He displayed compassion, confidence, and boldness.
This is the same Cardinal Cupich who once said that the clerical abuse crisis should not become a “distraction” from Pope Francis’s agenda which at the time included environmental issues. He warned against going down a “rabbit hole” of focusing on claims regarding clerical abuse (including the Lavender Mafia within the Church). Only after public backlash did he later emphasize his support for survivors.
And yet today he speaks with clarity, emotion, and unmistakable conviction on the immigration issue.
This contrast is not incidental. It is revealing.
Disturbing Political Rhetoric
A current example close to home for me (and now garnering widespread attention) is a situation involving a priest in Dedham, MA. Instead of presenting the Holy Family in the parish’s Nativity scene, he removed them and displayed a sign reading, “ICE was here.” Archbishop Henning of the Archdiocese of Boston instructed him to take the sign down. The priest has refused to comply until he can speak with the archbishop personally.
Side note: Catholic Canon Law explicitly safeguards sacred images. Canon 1188 requires that sacred images be displayed in churches and sacred places in a manner that fosters devotion and instructs the faithful. Removing the Holy Family and replacing them with secular political symbolism directly contradicts this requirement. The Nativity figures are sacred representations of the central mystery of the Christian faith. Their removal for political messaging constitutes a public misuse of sacred symbols that objectively causes scandal.
The display is irreverent and absurd. It reduces the Nativity to a political prop and casts the Holy Family as modern political pawns. Also troubling is that the strongest public response has come not from fellow clergy, but from lay people. It is striking how many of the same priests and bishops who can publicly mobilize at lightning speed for certain social or political narratives (such as illegal immigration) suddenly fall silent when clarity is most needed. Silence replaces clarity. Ambiguity replaces accountability.
Issues like this expose a painful inconsistency: our shepherds can act decisively, but too often they choose to do so only when the issue aligns with their preferred narrative, rather than when the faithful most need courage, leadership, and protection.
When the Church Refuses to Look at Its Own Wounds
Some of these same bishops and cardinals who now speak with such fire and unity on certain issues have struggled and continue to struggle to summon even a fraction of that passion for survivors of clerical abuse or for other urgent concerns facing Catholics today. They have also remained silent on the victims of violent crimes committed by people living here illegally (of which there are many). So much for the idea of “victimless” undocumented migration. The bishops’ record shows they are capable of bold, coordinated, and urgent action. They simply choose when to exercise it.
If you want just one example of tone-deafness, consider the scandal surrounding accused serial abuser, Jesuit priest, and artist Fr. Marko Rupnik. Dozens of women religious came forward with allegations of sexual and spiritual abuse, manipulation, sacrilege, and betrayal. Some were pressured into participating in the artistic process that made him famous.
Yet instead of distancing themselves, many Church leaders continued to promote his artwork. His mosaics remain in chapels across the world. Even Pope Francis reportedly kept a Rupnik piece in his residence. Until only recently, Rupnik’s work was displayed on the Vatican website. When survivors expressed concern, certain officials responded dismissively, minimizing the pain of the abused in favor of preserving the reputation of an artist.
This is the pattern: defensiveness where courage is needed, confusion where clarity is owed. Survivors are often left wondering whether we are truly seen or whether we are merely inconvenient.
A Necessary Clarification
I feel I should clarify something: I write with righteous anger. My anger is rooted in justice, truth, and compassion for the countless victims still unheard—victims of clerical abuse and the people who have been victimized due to illegals immigration.
The abuse crisis is not behind us. Organizations like TentMakers of Louisiana encounter survivors daily who are desperate for recognition, healing, and justice. Silence, corruption, and spiritual rot persist.
Yes, some bishops have shown genuine compassion toward survivors. We should be deeply grateful for them. However, the overall pattern of selective moral urgency cannot be ignored.
Selective Compassion Exposed
Let’s be honest: survivors of clerical abuse have never been “safe” for institutional leaders to acknowledge. Supporting us requires confronting sin inside their own house. It demands transparency, humility, and personal risk.
Meanwhile, many priests and bishops speak boldly on issues that cost them little and win cultural approval. In California, some even excused illegal aliens in fear of deportation from attending Mass and the sacraments. Meanwhile, many survivors who have been scarred by the very people sworn to protect them can barely bring themselves to pass a Church, let alone enter it. Where is their dispensation?
Migrants deserve compassion and respect just like all human beings. This is not in dispute.
However, the contrast in how the Church treats illegal aliens vs clerical abuse survivors reveals something painful:
They grow timid when the suffering comes from within the Church. They fall mostly silent when the issues at hand reflect the cultural norm. After all, speaking against those norms would cost them popularity and invite persecution (not necessarily physical, but persecution nonetheless). On a side note, it’s striking that the bishops who face actual physical danger in certain parts of the world often speak with the most courage, while many of the men who are safest (comfortable, protected, insulated) seem to act with the least.
And yet, these same leaders grow remarkably bold the moment they know their stance will earn them applause almost always from liberals.
This is not courage. It is convenience.
The Comparison That Cannot Be Ignored
For years, dioceses operated with what could only be described as “open borders” for predators. Dangerous men were quietly transferred from parish to parish, state to state, even country to country.
Everyone except for the innocent was protected. Now we are told with such great passion about dignity, safety, and compassion?
Where is that passion for the other great moral issues of our times? Where is the passion for the dignity of clerical abuse survivors and families? For the moral clarity needed to navigate today’s cultural storms?
The faithful deserve the same urgency. Survivors deserve the same compassion.
And So We Continue
However inconvenient it may be, survivors will continue to speak. We will continue to call the Church back to truth. We will continue to remind the hierarchy that the marginalized are not found only at the border of nations, but within the very walls of the sanctuary.
Selective compassion is not compassion. No collar, no title, and no office places anyone above accountability.
