Harboring Impure Thoughts is a sin in the mores of the Catholic Church. If one is attracted to a person sexually, a man, a woman, at whatever age, one also associates that quality with the object of even the most conventional Catholic marriage. So to a man who from the start of his sexual growth is trained as a Catholic priest, what's the difference between an object of pure lust and an object of affection? The danger, in turn, is not merely a danger to his own self but a danger to those objects of lust and affection of his. What's more, religion is extremely important to many people in all cultures. These people have children, who are raised with an obedient, conventional moral code that links inscrutability with their elders, whose trust is very easy for a neighborhood priest, their nearest connection with God, to acquire.
Watching Amy Berg's effective documentary Deliver Us from Evil is a compelling encounter. Her interview cases betray to the camera virtually insufferable stratums of grief, and its audience goes home feeling both bewilderment and anger. There is an integral interview subject who is an Irish Catholic priest who is undeterred by where Catholic orthodoxy has led his decisions to rape and molest 25 children who looked up to him, saw him as a father, and is living out his days in the Irish countryside. If any citizen otherwise had committed the same crime, they would be playing the role of the child to a much bigger, stronger rapist for decades. What is it about this ideology that causes people all over the world to treat related matters with superiority over everyone else? I suppose it is the centuries of tradition that is reassuring to society, even while these families are burdened with crippling depths of shame for as long as they last. The weight of their shame is directly related to that of the trust they put into their victimizers.
The film is not an indictment of people who practice the Catholic faith. Not by any means. It is a buoy for the devoutly faithful subjects surrounding Father Oliver O'Grady, who in the 1970s and '80s committed his crimes only to spend a mere seven years in prison and still keep his job, a voice and a vent for them. I know I haven't said much about the film itself, but the fact that I would rather talk about what the film made me think about should speak of the value of seeing it.
Watching Amy Berg's effective documentary Deliver Us from Evil is a compelling encounter. Her interview cases betray to the camera virtually insufferable stratums of grief, and its audience goes home feeling both bewilderment and anger. There is an integral interview subject who is an Irish Catholic priest who is undeterred by where Catholic orthodoxy has led his decisions to rape and molest 25 children who looked up to him, saw him as a father, and is living out his days in the Irish countryside. If any citizen otherwise had committed the same crime, they would be playing the role of the child to a much bigger, stronger rapist for decades. What is it about this ideology that causes people all over the world to treat related matters with superiority over everyone else? I suppose it is the centuries of tradition that is reassuring to society, even while these families are burdened with crippling depths of shame for as long as they last. The weight of their shame is directly related to that of the trust they put into their victimizers.
The film is not an indictment of people who practice the Catholic faith. Not by any means. It is a buoy for the devoutly faithful subjects surrounding Father Oliver O'Grady, who in the 1970s and '80s committed his crimes only to spend a mere seven years in prison and still keep his job, a voice and a vent for them. I know I haven't said much about the film itself, but the fact that I would rather talk about what the film made me think about should speak of the value of seeing it.