Former cardinal and laicized priest Theodore McCarrick has died. The exposure of his grave sins and crimes marked another phase of the sexual abuse crisis. Having lived out his last years in secluded dementia, there is little left to say about the details of his case.  

His death is an occasion to recall what McCarrick taught us about clerical corruption, and how prevalent it remains in the history of salvation. The days before Holy Week are a good time to be reminded of that.  

In the 2002 phase of the sexual abuse scandals, Cardinal Bernard Law of Boston was the principal figure of negligence and cover-up. In 2018, McCarrick was something different, a malefactor himself who rose high in the ranks. His case raised the specter of widespread ecclesial corruption. 

The McCarrick case was usually spoken of in that way, the shift in focus away from McCarrick himself toward those who enabled him, wittingly or unwittingly. A widespread view was that it was all witting, that everyone knew, from the sacristan to the Supreme Pontiff. The reality was different, as clarified by a detailed Vatican report published in 2020. 

McCarrick was fiendishly masterful at dispelling allegations. In the early 1990s, he personally passed along anonymous allegations about himself to the apostolic nuncio and the FBI. No one abused as a minor came forward until 2017, under the Archdiocese of New York’s accelerated compensation program for victims. That was handled in an expedited lay-led investigation, which led to McCarrick being expelled from the college of cardinals in 2018 and the priesthood in 2019. 

What the McCarrick case revealed was that in the 1990s any allegation against a bishop would not be entertained unless a criminal level of proof beyond a reasonable doubt was readily at hand. McCarrick took advantage of the environment created by the withdrawn accusation made against Cardinal Joseph Bernardin of Chicago in 1993, which made global headlines. After that it was easier, absent incontrovertible evidence, to dismiss allegations against senior clerics. Recall that the first false allegation against Cardinal George Pell of Sydney was in 2002, less than 10 years after Cardinal Bernardin. 

McCarrick revealed a clerical culture that was too protective of its most senior members and negligent in protecting victims. That a reminder was needed about the shortcomings of clerical culture was evidence that a biblical understanding of ecclesial realities had significantly eroded. Sacred Scripture teaches that corruption in the clergy, especially the high priests (bishops) of Israel ought not to surprise — perhaps it should even be expected.  

Not that long ago in Catholic apologetics, there was a perverse delight in pointing out the corrupt popes of history. The tale was told as evidence that, even in the hands of wicked men, the Holy Spirit kept the doctrine of the Church safe. That is true, but that apologetic technique emphasized doctrinal integrity and neglected the real human and spiritual cost of the corruption.  

McCarrick died in Lent. In the fourth and fifth weeks of Lent, the scriptural readings at daily Mass make it abundantly clear that the principal opponents of Jesus were the religious leaders of the day. They plot to kill Jesus. Those who attentively read the Bible know that clerical corruption is a recurring tragedy in salvation history.  

Such lessons were already taught clearly by the prophet Ezekiel, who excoriates the wicked shepherds (bishops) of Israel. The Church does not shy away from such texts, forcing all clerics to read them in the Breviary every autumn — with the piercing commentaries of St. Augustine added for good measure.  

St. Luke records that Jesus’ public ministry took place during the “high priesthood of Annas and Caiaphas” (3:2). The high priests were appointed then by the Roman authorities and therefore were beholden to the imperial occupiers of Israel. Complicit with the Roman regime — like the tax collectors, and in some ways they were exactly that — they could betray their own people. 

Annas was the high priest from A.D. 6 to 15. He was deposed but remained influential, managing to have five of his sons appointed high priest, as well as his son-in-law, Caiaphas, high priest from A.D. 15 to 36. That Luke refers to the high priesthood of “Annas and Caiaphas” indicates the continuing influence of Annas, the head of a lucrative family business more than the holder of a sacred office. 

On Thursday of the second week of Lent, the Parable of the Rich Man and Lazarus (Luke 16:19-31) is read. The rich man ignores the poor Lazarus at his door. When he finds himself in hell for his sins, he asks Abraham to send Lazarus back from the dead to tell his “five brothers” to correct their ways. Abraham tells the rich man that his brothers already have “Moses and the prophets” and that even if Lazarus were to return from the dead, they would not believe.  

It is possible to read the parable as an indictment of Caiaphas (the rich man), who enjoys “the best seats in the synagogues and the places of honor at feasts, who devour[s] widows’ houses and for a pretense make[s] long prayers. [He] will receive the greater condemnation” (Mark 12:39-40).  

Caiaphas has five brothers (in law) who held the post of high priest. And another Lazarus does come back from the dead. Far from having a conversion of heart, Caiaphas, Annas and their clerical colleagues decide that Jesus must die. 

Caiaphas is waiting in the wings, ready to take his place on stage in Holy Week. Every day during Holy Week, Caiaphas and the chief priests are at work on their scheme. Theirs is the hour of darkness.  

That clerical corruption has endured from biblical times until today is not a surprise. Clerics hold power. The theological reality of apostolic succession has the ancillary consequence of granting bishops enormous power in the Church, and sometimes in the world. Lord Acton wrote in the 19th century that power tends to corrupt, but that was already evident to Ezekiel. This is the perennial temptation in the Church, and the reason that the Church is semper reformanda, always in need of reform. 

McCarrick’s case did lead to significant reforms, the implementation of which remains uneven. Yet even if they were perfectly conceived and implemented, the stain that McCarrick laid upon the Church will never be entirely cleaned. The Temple needed to be cleansed in the time of Caiaphas. It still does. It always will.