In the last month or so, on a Friday evening, Peter Jennings presented a documentary of the Legionaires of Christ's founder, Rev. Marciel Maciel Degollado, who had been accused of sexually abusing nine men when they were young seminarians.

There, in living color, was Maciel, garbed in beautiful and costly vestments, at the altar in St. Peter's, exchanging the kiss of peace with Pope John Paul II.

I couldn't help but wonder what effect this would have on the morale of an already shattered laity, and determined not to write about it for the Web site. It was one thing for Cardinal Bernard Law to have been involved in serious cover-ups; it was quite another for the Holy Father, with the support of Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger, to do so from the Throne of Peter. However, we want to keep in mind that perhaps Pope John Paul II never received any correspondence about this matter.

By the way, when a reporter attempted to question Ratzinger, he was angrily brushed off. Apparently, abuse of boys doesn't rank up there with the real evils of inclusive language, a married priesthood, or the ordination of women, subjects the cardinal is never reluctant to discuss.

Presumably, every priest, bishop and cardinal in the United States has known about this scandal for years. Why, then, do Catholics, for the most part, learn of it in the secular press and TV documentaries? If the responsibility for teaching lies with the clergy, are they not bound to teach both that which will nourish their parishioners, and to warn against what will do them harm?

Last week, a mother sent a frantic e-mail begging for help with her son who is thinking of joining the Legion of Christ and studying for the priesthood. She and her husband, both professional teachers at the university level, provided their five children with a healthy, religious home life, and a first-class education. Each became proficient on a string instrument, and one can only imagine the joy that music brought to the home.

Five babies. Lots of two-o'clock feedings, miles of diapers, and dinners prepared while keeping track of the little ones. Then, there came the hours of homework, music practice, parent-teacher conferences, sports, music recitals, proms and drivers' permits. Finally, at the end of the family, was the young man with eyes on the priesthood and the Legion of Christ.

Perpetrators of child abuse would probably never think of taking a hammer to the Pieta, but they never stop to consider the artists who fashion good young men and women through decades of sacrifice and hard work, not to be used as play things for degenerate, selfish men.

Who will Bill (not his real name) find as his mentor and guide along his Christian journey? Maciel, the child abuser. Not much inspiration there, only a cautionary sign that reads: "Stay away from me. I can hurt you in ways you never dreamed possible. I can destroy your life, then toss you away like yesterday's kitty litter, and warn you against talking with anyone about our time together."

With permission from the "National Catholic Reporter," through Jean Blake, assistant to the publisher, I am using the article, titled "Sex-related case blocked in Vatican," written by Jason Berry with Gerald Renner, Dec. 7, 2001 for reference. Barry is the author of the book, Lead Us Not Into Temptation: Catholic Priests and Sexual Abuse of Children, now out in paperback, with an account of the allegations against Maciel included.

Like Opus Dei, though on a more modest scale, the Legion of Christ is a wealthy, highly conservative religious order with special allegiance to the pope, who has praised the leader "as an efficacious guide to youth."

The men accusing Maciel say that the crimes began when they were young boys or teenagers, between the ages of 10 and 16: At times, Maciel would tell the boys that he had permission from Pope Pius XII to engage in sexual acts with them in order to gain relief from pain related to an unspecified stomach ailment.

After trying for many years to contact Pope John Paul II, two of the men sent letters to him in 1978 and 1989 by diplomatic pouch, but received no reply.

The article goes on to state that: "On Feb. 23, 1997, the group went public with the accusations in "The Hartford Courant," a major newspaper in Connecticut, where the Legion has its U.S. headquarters.

The article stated that: "The men include: Fr. Feliz Alarcon, a retired priest in good standing in Madrid; Juan Vaca, a psychology professor in New York; Arturo Jurado, a professor at the U.S. Defense Languages School in Monterrey, Calif; and in Mexico, Jose Barba, a Harvard-trained scholar of Latin American studies; Jose Antonio Perez, a lawyer; Alejandro Espinosa, a rancher; Fernando Perez, an engineer; and Saul Barrales, a school teacher. A ninth accuser, Juan Manuel Fernandaz Amenabar, a former priest and university president, left a statement of alleged abuse and gave accounts to several witnesses before his death in 1995."

Again, there was no response from the Vatican, so the papal nuncio in Mexico City suggested the men file a civil suit against Maciel, citing the church's Code of Canon Law which forbids the hearing of the confession and granting absolution to those the priest had sexually abused. Canon 1378 calls for excommunication of such a priest, with the judgment reserved to the Vatican's Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, headed today by Ratzinger.

Fr. Juan Vaca recalled having negative feelings about the relationship with Maciel. "I didn't feel right," he said, "I wanted to go to confession. He told me, 'There is nothing wrong. You don't have to go to confession.'" Eventually, Maciel gave him absolution and made the sign of the Cross.

In 1976, Fr. Juan Vaca, who had been in the community since he was ten years old, wrote a 12-page letter to Maciel explaining why he was leaving:

"Everything you did contradicts the beliefs of the church and the order. How many innumerable times did you wake me in the middle of the night and had me with you, abusing my innocence. Nights of absolute fear, so many nights of absolute fear; so many nights of lost sleep, that on more than one occasion placed my own psychological health in jeopardy."

Vaca joined the diocesan clergy in Rockville Center on Long Island, N.Y. and in 1978 showed his letter to Bishop John R. McCann, who sent it to the pope through the Vatican Embassy in Washington. Confirmation was later received that the letter had arrived, but no reply accompanied it.

The allegations were denied because the statute of limitations, according to church law, had long ago expired. The letter of the law, not an ounce of its spirit.

The Legion has 489 priests and 2,500 seminarians, is active in 20 countries on four continents, and concentrates its efforts in education, with schools in Latin America, Europe and the United States, including a seminary in Orange, Conn.

When I called the seminary this morning, a pleasant young man from Austria filled me in on a few details. The young men are from 18 to 30, and number 130, mostly from the United States. Archbishop Danial Cronin of Hartford is the Church official for the area.

Interestingly, when I searched the Internet, I found a report published in The Hartford Courant . October 23, 1997, by Jason Barry, stating that Pope John Paul II had appointed Maciel as a delegate to the November Synod of 250 church leaders from North and South America for discussions on evangelization, economic justice and church cooperation in the new millennium. The editors quoted these opinions about the appointment:

Rev. Thomas Doyle, a canon lawyer, who once worked for the Vatican Embassy in Washington: "They are completely out of touch with what is going on."

"This is tragic," said the Rev. John Heagle, a psychotherapist and canon lawyer in the Archdiocese of Seattle, who has worked for years with clergy involved in sexual abuse and the abused.

"It's going to place bishops in a very awkward, if not impossible, situation," Heagle said. "They'll have to be quiet, or ask who gave the pope this advice, or openly say they approved. I'm just stunned."

Juan Vaca: "To me, this is their answer without saying that they don't believe us."

Maciel, then 77, declined to be interviewed, but denied any wrongdoing through a law firm. He said his accusers are disgruntled former Legionaries conspiring to depose him. As head of the religious order, Maciel reports directly to the Holy See. The appointment to the Synod appears to have been the Vatican's way of vindicating him.

Father Owen Kearns, a spokesman for the order in Connecticut, said: "The Legionaries of Christ are pleased that the Vicar of Christ has appointed Father Maciel to the special Synod for America. Father Maciel will undoubtedly contribute to the broad experience of priestly life and deep, firsthand understanding of the Church in the complex cultural diversity of Latin America." What a comfort for those victims of his abuse.

Barry writes that the Vatican has no stated policy for dealing with accusations of sexual abuse made against clerics under its control. As a sovereign nation in international law, it is immune from lawsuits. Maciel lives at his order's headquarters in Rome.

What power does a mother possess whose son is thinking of joining the Legionaires? What power do you and I possess? Only the power of prayer and the spoken and written word.

How much do the seminarians know of this scandal? How much did they know when they signed up? Why would anyone want to join this group with a leader who should be in jail? Brainwashing comes to mind.

Obviously, the Holy See would do well to remove Maciel from office and send him off to the most remote monastery for the rest of his life, since jail isn't on the radar screen.

If that doesn't happen, Cronin should close down the seminary. Corrupt leaders spawn corrupt followers, at worst, or conflicted followers, at best.

As a last resort, a lay group could intervene and stop financial support to the seminary. Somehow or another, Maciel needs to be replaced with a leader worthy of Christ and those dedicated to his service. Young men are too sacred to be left in Maciel's unhealthy spiritual environment. Christ, who had harsh words for those who would scandalize the young, would tell us that this is so.

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