Nobility forsworn, honor forsaken; the barbarians are no longer at the gate. They are in the bedroom.
Apparently, religious people can accept any wrong, so long as the right wrong person commits the act.
One might as well dwell among the lost.
The only cure I can see would be a stunning act of contrition. The malefactor should cease quibbling with his own history. He lies first to himself; he cannot be honest, then, with any other. He is the double-minded man, unstable in all his ways. He sees himself in a mirror but forgets his reflection as he walks away.
Let him recall his own image long enough to see what others see, particularly those too weak to defend themselves from his depredations. He is not a noble savage, only a savage. He breaks what he holds.
No more mumbling about whose watch it was when the gates fell. Take your name off the door, hie ye to a monastery, there to dry the wine-stench from your lips and the ogre-stain from off your soul.
The organization is, yes, larger than any one person, or group of persons. Therefore, the lesser one(s), lesser by their own admission, now fully discredited, should, for the sake of the larger body, perform this stunning act of contrition. Admit you are not a reformer but only a charlatan, resign your spot, take your name off the honored places and seek the salvation of your soul. Work out your own salvation with fear and trembling.
Just now you puff out your chest and roll back your head, eyes narrowed to slits, muscles tensed, ready to accept the blow. It is only for a moment, you think, and then the rabble will go back to their plows. So they might, but do not count on their return the next time you call. You simply lack the moral credibility to have authority before anyone.
Do not look at the Catholic Holy See with disdain my baptist friend. You are sending your money, blindly, to people scarcely distinct. You have broken the teeth of the truth-teller, accepted the thin tale of the abuser-thief and turned your head to look the other way.
You are the gate-keeper at Auschwitz. How could you know?
How could you not know?
You were cut off from power. What could you do?
Shut the gate. If need be, join the ranks of the doomed marchers. You would have honor in heaven, finally, instead of dishonor in both heaven and earth.
All opinions expressed here are mine, not thosee of the church I serve or of any other person.