The Audacity of Indifference to Spiritual Children

In my last post I mentioned how we are saved in community.  One part of that is that we bear one another's burdens and take care for our brethren.  I also mentioned, however much in passing, some of the hurt that has been caused to my family and friends by the Church.  I have come to realize of late that of all the things that have harmed us in the Church these past few years, the major ones all boil down to the same thing.  In the end, the people charged with exercising authority in our now-former Archdiocese simply do not care about me, or my family, or my friends, or their families.  And I write this not to out anyone or "raise awareness" or some other such modernist trope.  I write it because I think it is vitally important that people know the difference and treat one another accordingly.  

To give context to the sort of care I'm talking about, my current priest, Father Paul, calls me every few weeks whether I need to receive a call or not.  Sometimes he calls to ask how my wife or kids are doing.  Sometimes he calls to ask me to pray for him.  Sometimes he calls me to discuss logistics of my service to the Church (I am a Reader).  Sometimes he just calls to see how things are going with me. The priest at my mission parish's mother church also knows me pretty well.  He doesn't call or text -- he is not, after all, my priest or spiritual father.  But every time I see him he is sure to come up and tell me it's good to see me, to ask how things are going.  He speaks to my wife and my children when we visit his parish.  I have only met our current bishop once, and he is quite shy so he's usually not up for long conversation, but I'd wager if he thought there was a problem with me or my family, he or someone in his orbit (the auxiliary bishop, the chancellor of our diocese, the dean, someone) would contact me.  

That, unfortunately, has not been our experience with the hierarchs and administrators at our now-former Archdiocese.  Right after my family and I left our now-former parish, six people from that parish (comprising three families, including ours) wrote an eight-page letter to the bishop letting him know about certain concerns with the parish.  I have never published that letter and will not do so now, but suffice it to say it was thorough, if irenic.  We were not trying to do harm.  We were trying to facilitate healing.  The bishop waited about a month, and then on very short notice (less than a day) let us know he wanted to meet with us as couples, but separately (so, three meetings over the course of a couple of days).  I feel comfortable saying it is the universal and unanimous opinion of all three families that those visits did far more harm than good.  None of us felt as if we were taken seriously, and before long another of the three families left the parish as a direct result of not being taken seriously and the concerns we raised being essentially ignored.  At the conclusion of the meeting with my wife and I, the bishop told us he would be in touch, that in his words, "we will continue this conversation."  That is the last any of us ever heard from him.  That was a year and a half ago.  

Were that the end of it, perhaps I wouldn't think about it as much as I do now.  But without revealing confidences, I can add that this is not the only time this has happened.  Some of the same issues have now been elevated to the Metropolitan by others, with our names attached to them.  Although this happened months ago (prior to Great Lent), we have yet to hear from the Metropolitan, or his protosyngellos, or anyone else in the Archdiocese, and as noted above, certainly not from the bishop in question.  Not even to ask "how is your family doing?"  Not even to ask "are you being cared for in your current parish?"  Not even to say "we hear you and we're looking into your concerns."

Not even to say "we're glad you're gone and good riddance."

Literally nothing. 

The good news is, we are being cared for in our current parish.  The bad news is, we are not all well. We have friends who have suffered the same indifference.  The people who are supposed to address their concerns are cruelly silent, especially towards their families.  Not one person at the diocesan or Archdiocesan level has asked how my kids are doing, for instance, even on that one occasion where the bishop met with us.  I have considered writing the Metropolitan myself.  That is inconsistent with my desire to move on and let it go.  And yet, it is hard to let it go, because the fact that the same issues have been raised to the Archdiocesan level highlights the lack of concern, which remains constantly apparent in its deafening silence.  None of them care.  If they did, they would at least acknowledge our existence and the existence of our concerns.  

I sometimes wonder whether we have been too quiet.  We certainly tried to leave quietly, with a hiccup or two here or there where we said more than hindsight may have deemed prudent.  I wonder if making more noise might have gotten enough attention to at least have us feel validated, heard, somewhat understood, or at least acknowledged.  But in the end, things happen the way they happen for a reason.  And at least part of the reason this has happened to us, I believe, is to demonstrate to us the damage that indifference does to a soul.  And to show us that being a Christian is not simply going to Liturgy, saying your prayers, and fasting at the right times.  It is loving your neighbor, and truly loving them enough to say "I see you, I hear you, and I love you."  Those things are not implied by your silence, especially when you know.  And rest assured, they know. We tried to leave quietly, so it's fair to say most of our friends do not know.  I do not blame them for their silence.  But the people in authority and with the God-given responsibility to do something about it know.  And their silence is inexcusable.  Good fathers do not ignore their children. 

The famous British abolitionist, William Wilberforce, once gave a speech to the House of Commons outlining the cruelty and injustice of the slave trade.  At the end he said “having heard all this you may choose to look the other way but you can never say again that you did not know.”  The Archdiocese has thus far chosen to look the other way.  But it cannot say that it does not know.  And the fact that it knows means its indifference to us as people comes across as cruelty.  It demonstrates an utter lack of care or respect for those Christ has charged it with shepherding.

Again, I do not write all of this to stir outrage, or provoke anger.  I write it to remind us all to be attentive to one another.  Thanks be to God my family and I are now shepherded by a priest, a bishop, a community, and a parish full of people who care, and show it.  We have a good circle of friends to lean on.  We have our friends in neighboring Orthodox parishes, and their priests.  We have lost very few of our old friends and gained so many new ones.  God grant me to show care to all of them, to my children, my friends, my spiritual brethren, and all within my orbit. Because this lesson is not just for the hierarchs.  It's for me.  Having seen the damage that is done by their indifference to me and mine, I too can never say again that I do not know the damage my indifference does to those around me.  God grant me to do better.