ROME – One factor forever complicating Vatican analysis is the proliferation of prefabricated scripts which various constituencies yearn to apply to events, rather than allowing those events to speak for themselves.
Recently, the curious case of ex-priest Ariel Alberto Príncipi – at least it seems his laicization will stick this time, though it’s hard to be truly sure – offers a good reminder of the point.
In 2023, an Argentine tribunal found Príncipi guilty of sexual abuse and ordered him dismissed from the clerical state, a verdict upheld on appeal. His laicization was then reversed this September by an edict from Venezuelan Archbishop Edgar Peña Parra, the number two official in the Vatican’s Secretariat of State, only to be reinstated just days later by another decree from the Dicastery for the Doctrine of the Faith (DDF), reminding everyone that it has exclusive jurisdiction over abuse cases.
To say the least, these public reversals of fortune are a bit unusual. To account for them, several off-the-shelf scripts have been dusted off.
First, there’s the traditional rivalry between the Secretariat of State and the DDF. Over the centuries the doctrinal office generally had the upper hand, so much so that it was known as La Suprema. Lately, especially under Pope Paul VI, himself a veteran of the Secretariat of State, it began to assert dominance. In that light, one could interpret the incoherence over Príncipi as another case of the Vatican’s internal politics clouding its judgment.
Second, there’s the fact that Príncipi, a member of the Catholic Charismatic movement, was apparently engaged in attempting to “reverse” or “cure” a homosexual orientation by offering healing prayers. For those who regard such activity as dangerous and homophobic, it’s tempting to assume Príncipi must be guilty, and that confusion in imposing punishment is likely due to someone in the system who shares his prejudices trying to get him off the hook.
Third, there’s the precedent of Bishop Gustavo Zanchetta, who was welcomed in Rome by Pope Francis and given a Vatican position after leaving his diocese in Argentina facing allegations of abuse. (Zanchetta eventually was convicted by an Argentine court and sentenced to four and a half years in prison.) Taken in tandem with the fact that Francis has stood by Argentine Cardinal Victor Manuel Fernandez despite revelations of sexually explicit writings earlier in his career, it’s easy to see why critics of the pontiff might view the back-and-forth over Príncipi’s fate as another papal effort, albeit botched this time, to cover up for a countryman.
One could go on, but the point is clear: There are several conclusions here to which people may be inclined to leap, with the added incentive that some have a clear appeal to Catholic liberals while others are more alluring for conservatives.
Yet if one examines the facts of the case without preconceptions, another explanation may suggest itself: That it’s not entirely clear how guilty Príncipi really is, and thus it’s equally hard to say what precise punishment he merits, possibly explaining why different officials have arrived at contrasting conclusions. From this point of view, the case would be a reminder that not every accusation of sexual abuse is always clear-cut, nor is a “one size fits all” punishment always the best solution.
What we know for sure is that Príncipi is a 16-year veteran of the Catholic Charismatic Movement, convinced that homosexuality is a deviation which can be cured with prayers for healing and liberation. He would conduct these prayers in different contexts, including spiritual exercises and spiritual direction. Often the prayers involved laying hands on the person being prayed for, including upon their genitalia. On many occasions these prayers were conducted in the presence of other parties, while in other cases they occurred in private settings. In some instances, the individuals receiving the prayers were significantly younger than Príncipi.
To begin, let us stipulate that an older priest placing his hands on the genitalia of young men, in any context, is obviously dubious, and it also raises a “red flag” about even more worrying possibilities.
Those truths, however, do not quite dissipate the difficulties of the case.
Although three accusers contend that Príncipi manipulated them into participating in these prayers and then proceeded to grope and molest them, Príncipi steadfastly denies having ever derived any sexual gratification from his activity – in other words, he denies having acted with “libidinous ends,” to use the official euphemism of ecclesiastical jurisprudence.
That’s a notoriously difficult matter to settle objectively, at least in the absence of clear physical indicators of sexual arousal on the part of Príncipi which are not indicated in the trial record. In one case, an accuser himself expressed uncertainty about Príncipi’s intentions. Moreover, the fact that Príncipi frequently performed these prayers in the presence of other people – i.e., potential witnesses – might suggest he didn’t perceive himself to be doing anything wrong.
It’s also a matter of record that the alleged victims were not young children at the time the incidents took place. One was 15 when the first alleged incident occurred, but in the other instances the accusers were 17. In at least one instance, there’s uncertainty about whether the accuser actually was 17 or 18 at the time. In addition, Príncipi claimed he believed some of the alleged victims were adults.
Given those points, is it possible to say definitively that Príncipi is guilty of “abuse”?
Many would say yes, including the judges in the initial trial and the appeal. To them, it doesn’t matter what was in Príncipi’s head, and it doesn’t matter how close to adulthood the victims may have been – they were under 18, he was a priest in a position to manipulate vulnerable youth into doing his bidding, and he intentionally placed his hands on their genitalia, ergo case closed.
Others, however, might be tempted to say that while Príncipi is obviously guilty of terrible judgment, it’s not entirely clear that what he did rises to the level of sexual abuse. A priest not seeking sexual pleasure, laying on hands in the context of prayer with people he perceived to be adults, or at least near-adults, often with other people looking on, and understanding himself to have been trying to heal with the individuals’ consent, may have acted inappropriately without necessarily being an abuser.
In that instance, some might argue that lesser punishment and restrictions are warranted, but not the canonical equivalent of the death penalty, i.e., involuntary laicization – which was, more or less, the position expressed in the letter signed by Peña Parra seeking to overturn the verdict, which he said was based on “new evidence” from some diocesan bishops and faithful in Argentina.
Of course, questions about who might have instigated Peña Parra’s intervention, and why, are entirely legitimate. However, it’s important not to automatically presume malicious intent, at least in the absence of proof, when an alternative explanation is available – i.e., that it’s simply a hard case, about which reasonable people may differ.
