On May 23 rd (2002), Catholics across America started their Thursday mornings with another in a long string of shocking revelations as Paul Marcoux went on ABC's "Good Morning America" and accused longtime Milwaukee Archbishop Rembert Weakland of sexual assault. Additionally, Marcoux revealed that in 1998 Weakland paid him a sum of $450,000 to keep their "relationship" quiet. Now 53 years old, Marcoux was a theology student at Marquette University 20 years prior when he approached the archbishop for advice on going into the priesthood. It was during this encounter that the alleged abuse took place.1
In a statement released the same day, Weakland denied the abuse accusation but refused to comment on the financial arrangement, deferring to its confidentiality clause:
Except that the intent of the confidentially provision was for Marcoux's silence, not the archbishop's. That same day, Weakland, who almost two months earlier had reached the mandatory age of retirement and submitted his resignation to Rome, asked that his pending request be expedited. The Vatican announced acceptance of Weakland's retirement that next day. Bishop Richard J. Sklba took over interim leadership of the archdiocese and delivered the following tribute:
If there is any justice, he will indeed get every bit of respect he has earned for himself. After a week of near seclusion, Weakland returned to the spotlight to deliver a hollow apology:
After which he knelt before the altar and received a 90-second standing ovation from the congregation/audience. Lest we are tempted to carelessly join in this amnesic love-fest, remember that it takes very little courage to admit wrongdoing and deliver an apology only after one has been publicly exposed and no options to continue hiding the scandal with power and money remain. The whole world found out what he had done and were presented with two indisputable pieces of evidence. Weakland had the choice of fading into obscurity and denial or salvaging what remained of his respectability with a Jimmy Swaggart routine. For someone who loves the spotlight and values his "work" as much as Weakland does, he was left with no choice. However contrite and worthy of forgiveness this fallen prelate may now be, it does not negate the damage done over the past thirty-five years, nor does it change at all the lessons that must be learned.
My guess is that the really don’t want to have to say “through my fault, through my fault, through my most grevious fault.” (Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maxima culpa)