Planting the seeds of healing for church sex abuse survivors

Twenty years ago, I was forced to reckon with a secret I’d kept for more than three decades. That morning, I opened the newspaper to see my abuser named in a civil lawsuit for sexually abusing young boys years before.

I recognized the names of the plaintiffs — my former classmates.

It was emotionally and physically triggering. For days, I couldn’t sleep. I was nauseous, anxiety-ridden, and I didn't want to introduce this depraved story into my marriage. But I knew it was time to finally share my secret with my wife and face whatever came next.

I was sexually abused by my priest when I was a child. He had groomed our North Shore community, earning — then betraying — the trust of the children he was entrusted to protect and the parents who believed he was providing their children with spiritual mentorship.

Today, I understand that the abuse imposed upon me as a child inflicted wounds that take a lifetime to heal. But healing is never linear, and it cannot happen alone.

My healing began when the people I trusted with my story met me with love, compassion and belief. My wife, my priest and officials of the Archdiocese of Chicago, where I began the Independent Review Board process. I came to understand that the abuse I endured is obviously a part of who I am, but it does not define me.

While painful to recall the traumatic memories, the process of reporting my abuse to the church was also deeply healing. To be believed was critical to my experience. It showed me that faith and the church could be an important part of my journey, and that seeking accountability did not require me to turn my back either.

In fact, by working alongside the church, I have seen that true accountability is achieved by listening to survivors, then working together to create change. Fifteen years ago, I helped spearhead the creation of the Archdiocese of Chicago's Healing Garden. This powerful collaboration between the church and survivors provides a place for healing, even for those who can no longer set foot in a church. It is a permanent and public reminder that survivors are believed, valued and welcomed in this space. Each year, our survivor community gathers in the garden before the Mass of Hope and Healing for abuse survivors and family members. This year’s Mass took place last month, marking its 15th anniversary.

Chicago’s Healing Garden has now inspired the creation of a new National Healing Garden on the campus of the Catholic University of America in Washington, D.C. I am humbled to lead that effort alongside fellow survivors of abuse, so our voices continue to be heard.

Like our garden in Chicago, the planned garden in D.C. will provide a safe place for individual reflection and prayer, as well as community programming that brings people together, helps rebuild trust in the church and institutions that have been fractured by abuse and start conversations that protect the dignity and safety of God’s children.

Efforts like these are only possible when there is good, productive communication between the church and survivors. And they are proof that when we come together, we can foster healing which, like the gardens, can take root and grow.

Many struggle to understand how I have remained steadfast in my faith, and why my wife and I chose to raise our children in the church after what happened to me. I understand the question. But when I watched my own children as altar servers, I did not feel fear.

I felt joy that they could have the powerful, dignified experience I was denied. And I felt gratitude knowing that because people like me and my fellow survivors came forward, breaking the silence that surrounds childhood abuse, we helped prevent abuse from happening to the next generation.

Twenty years ago, I could never have imagined how far that first decision to tell my story would take me. I have learned that institutional accountability and personal healing are not the same. In keeping with archdiocesan policies, my abuser’s name is public, an important acknowledgment of the evil he committed. But I am still a deeply wounded person.

My abuse will always be a part of me, and my healing will be a lifelong journey. But I have found comfort knowing that I have people willing to listen, leaders willing to work alongside me, and a profound sense of faith lighting the way.

Michael Hoffman is chair of the Archdiocese of Chicago's Hope and Healing Committee and executive director of National Catholic Restorative Justice Initiative. The Chicago resident previously served as a president of Prevent Child Abuse Illinois.