Last month the John Jay College of Criminal Justice released its study on the sexual abuse of children by Catholic priests, uncovering 10,667 allegations of molestation between 1950 and 2002. Eighty-one percent of the victims were male. Two percent of accused priests received jail time. Of course, allegations aren’t necessarily based in fact. But when you consider that any claim of inappropriate behavior can get a mom-and-pop day care center shut down, it becomes clear how effective the Catholic bureaucracy has been at shielding its suspect clergy from examination.
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Perhaps the most troubling aspect of this situation is the apparent unaccountability of Catholic leadership. Bishops may gather at public conferences to wring their hands and debate policy, but only one has faced charges of negligence for tolerating the acts of priests he supervised: Cardinal Bernard Law, archbishop of Boston. He beat jail time after reaching a settlement with his accusers but resigned his position in disgrace in December 2002. Settling out of court allowed him to avoid the humiliating scrutiny of a trial, but New York playwright Michael Murphy has stepped in to give audiences a harrowing look at the details of Law’s story. Murphy distilled hundreds of pages of depositions–whose public release is nearly unprecedented–into two hours of fascinating, infuriating, unsparing theater in Sin, a two-act play being given its world premiere by Bailiwick Repertory. Murphy credits himself only as the show’s adapter, not as a playwright.
Each act focuses on a different priest. The first concerns Father John J. Geoghan, whom the archdiocese moved from one parish to another over a period of 30 years despite multiple allegations of molestation (it’s been estimated he had as many as 130 victims). Law dealt with Geoghan twice in the 1980s, sending him for psychological treatment. But both times, when medical professionals assured Law that Geoghan was unlikely to molest children again, he sent the priest back into a parish.
Indeed, on opening night one could hardly mistake the presence of actors onstage given what seemed an underrehearsed performance. At times it even appeared that a stoic Jim Sherman as Law–portrayed with utter matter-of-factness–was reading his lines from papers in front of him. But paradoxically the general awkwardness gave the evening more credibility, since depositions are by nature hesitant and unrehearsed. And why wouldn’t a cardinal have notes prepared when facing a prosecutor? Ultimately Bailiwick’s raw presentation suits the horrifying allegations.
