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Quote by Stephen H. Donnelly

“As a young child, I realized that if I presented myself as perfect—caring, generous, understanding, and compliant— then I could control how people felt about me. At all costs, I wanted to be loved! I’d created a fantasy persona, but even now, I couldn’t recognize how far I had strayed from my self-imposed standard of perfection. I guess that’s what happens to a person when they receive too much praise. Was I as wonderful as everyone painted me? Or was I a skilled con artist? I had been riding the superiority- inferiority seesaw all weekend. As I grappled with a carousel of gnawing thoughts, I drank my third shot of scotch and snorted some blow, all to crush any self-doubt.”

Quote by Stephen H. Donnelly

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A Saint and a Sinner: The Rise and Fall of a Beloved Catholic Priest

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Stephen H. Donnelly

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“With a shooting pain to my head, I closed my eyes tight and envisioned the disgusted look on my mother’s face. The blueprint of the perfect child that Mom had so carefully crafted was incompatible with the lying, cheating, stealing man I had become; I felt worthless. But I had a new master, one that controlled my body, mind, and soul.”

“I thought, just tell this guy whatever he wants to hear. You only have fifteen days left of this twenty-eight-day sentence. “I guess you’re going to get me clean and sober,” I said flippantly. Exasperated, he said, “What would you do if you were me?” I cocked my head and said, “But I’m not you.” He sat back in his leather chair, folded his hands on the desk, and leaned toward me. “You do know, Stephen, that the foundation of your life is built on addiction quicksand, and the more you struggle, the faster you’ll sink?” I had to admit it; I had no witty comeback.”

“Sam and I sat across from each other in silence for what seemed like forever until he finally spoke. “Deceit is an art form for most addicts. Lies close enough to the truth that they remain undetected—and lies so grandiose you’d never imagine a person could make them up—are the foundation of a house of cards. Pull out just one half-truth, and the whole thing collapses. “You have become an expert at lying, Stephen.” I winced as my guilt hung around my neck like an albatross. Finally, in a voice that sounded small, weak, and strange even to me, I said, “I had a dream, you know. I’m in the middle of a monster-sized whirlwind, and I can see myself, hear myself screaming for help with one hand barely above the fray and—” “Stephen,” Sam interrupted, “Only a fool stays put during a hurricane.”

“It was like peeking behind the curtain only to discover the great and powerful Oz was an imposter. Child molesters, dressed in respectable Roman collars, had preyed on children for decades, leaving a wasteland of irreparably damaged souls.”

“I, for one, was outraged at the accused who trampled the trust of a child. I would never watch a priest take a minor upstairs to his bedroom, not for any reason! Nor would I ever cover for him. My anger was directed at the bishops, too, for their abysmal response. It was like we were living in a house that had rotted up to the rafters. Where would we begin to make repairs? Should we just knock it down and start again? Or should we simply move far, far away?”

“On September tenth, after a busy day at the parish, and without any forethought, I stopped at a liquor store before I headed upstate to the Villa. I wouldn’t allow myself to recognize the insanity of drinking a bottle of wine as I drove to a rehab facility. I flashbacked to my father’s beer cans, in paper bags, between his legs as he drove. I was sure God was tapping on my shoulder, but I wasn’t responding. I coasted comfortably on autopilot, one of the most dangerous modes a human being can find themselves.”

“Remorse hit me like a sledgehammer. I felt sick inside as I counted all the people I had let down. My brain quickly ran through several scenarios. Had I irreparably damaged my relationship with Charlie? Would Camilla finally abandon me? Would the Church blacklist me? In the court of public opinion, would I be considered a persona non grata?”

“There’s a certain mystique about a priest’s uniform; black slacks, black shirt, and Roman collar that evokes different responses from different people—sometimes reverence, other times disdain. Being perceived as a pillar of the community can be a heady experience for a new priest, and one’s ego needs to be checked continually. The collar can also be an aphrodisiac for certain women, single or married, who are attracted to and flirt with the “unattainable” priest.”

“When he returned from St. John Vianney, Charlie felt fully vindicated. “They couldn’t find one thing wrong with me, Stephen.” All I could think was, “Let him who is without sin cast the first stone.” I knew in my heart; I could not even cast a pebble.”