As Cardinal Bernard F. Law ’53 took flight on Sunday to the Vatican, he left his bishopric with another stigma after more reports surfaced that he shielded abusive priests. To add additional shame, a council that Law chairs has authorized the Boston Archdiocese to declare bankruptcy to avoid paying legal damages. Law should resign, if not for the sake of Catholic virtue, then for the benefit of the parishioners within his congregation.

Many Catholics, including myself, have long been conflicted over whether to condemn the cardinal and join a predominantly reformist faction that has loudly called for his resignation. After all, the dogma of the church itself innately calls for forgiveness, and at the beginning of the controversy, most Catholics respected Law and his vision of Christian morals, including a concept of “limitless forgiveness.” Indeed, Law himself has delivered several homilies on the topic, both before and after the scandal surfaced. The lay Catholics had no reason to doubt his morals, and they could convince themselves that Law was just naive, which might have led him to forgive abusive priests.

Here, Law encountered a problem. By virtue of his both moral and practical representation of his archdiocese and of Rome, Law has a dual responsibility. It seems to many that the obvious and reflexive response to learning that a priest was abusive to children would be to inform the police. Yet I am unconvinced that those priests who have made confession with the cardinal, or other priests within court documents, deserve any fewer religious entitlements than do the laity who repent immoral acts that happen to be criminal. Ordinarily, any ordained Catholic would be defrocked for breaking the seal of confession, a sacrament of the church. And Law could not have been expected by any faithful Catholic to turn over to secular authorities seemingly penitent parishioners of any sort without violating church doctrine.

The recent developments, however, are damning. As more court documents are released for public eyes, it appears that Law reshuffled many abusive priests to posts in other parishes where they would have continued access to children. He has also reinforced the secrecy of the church, refusing to meet repeatedly with Voice of the Faithful, a lay Catholic group formed in the wake of the abuse scandal.

Law no longer seems morally-guided and interested only in following Catholic theology. He has exercised extreme pragmatism in some cases, including entangling himself in financial matters—the most secular of all things. In the past week, he has given the archdiocese permission to proceed with Chapter 11 bankruptcy filings. In Rome, he is currently discussing this prospect. Yet, the total damages from the settlements in the abuse scandal equate to 10 percent of the Boston Archdioceses’ assets. Though much of these assets are tied into property, which may be difficult to liquidate, there is quite simply no reason why Law should have given permission to back out of settlement deals when the church—albeit with some hardship—could have afforded it. The bankruptcy proceedings are little more than another step in the church’s denial of the abuse scandal as a whole; every day the bankruptcy charade is nurtured by Law, those who supply the church’s assets and support base will be increasingly alienated.

In a time when prominent Catholic figures should be reaching out to their communities, Law has done the opposite, retreating behind legal briefs, heading toward bankruptcy to eschew moral obligations and withdrawing into the overwhelming internal secrecy of the Catholic Church itself. Indeed, in a world where the Catholic Church has come to mean a tightly-knit, spiritual community and not a priesthood divorced from the congregation, the Boston Archdiocese has become increasingly reactionary. Instead of opening its doors to abuse victims, Church officials have withdrawn. And Cardinal Law’s overarching entanglement between matters of finance and morality seems like a throwback to the days of the medieval church, when the fiscal and moral power of the church led to the impunity and ethical depravity of the elite clergy.

The damage caused by this fundamental detachment of the church—and consequential lack of confidence in it—cannot be overstated. Law has become irrevocably tainted by his own sins, and even if he were to agree to pay the settlements now, open up his arms to his congregation and repent for all that has happened, it is not clear whether or not his own parishioners would be willing to forgive him.

Fundamentally, Law must make his own choice whether or not to resign his current position and move to a different post in the church, or retire altogether. It is my hope that he will hold himself accountable to his own church’s dogma, which compels him to value his parishioners’ comfort in worship above himself. Following this morality will ultimately compel Law to remove himself from the Boston Archdiocese.

Travis R. Kavulla ’06 is a first-year in Weld Hall.