Mea Maxima Culpa: Silence in the House of God

It has been said that a thunderbolt struck St. Peter just moments after the Pope’s resignation. But the real thunder to strike the Catholic Church these past weeks is probably Mea Maxima Culpa: Silence in the House of God.

It took four deaf men to break the silence surrounding clerical sex abuses. Mea Maxima Culpatells the inspiring story of Terry Kohut, Gary Smith, Arthur Budzinksi and Bob Bolger as they set out to expose the sexual crimes of Father Lawrence Murphy, who repeatedly abused them and other 200 deaf children, in a school under his control. As the documentary progresses, the scope of the issue broadens and Alex Gibney ambitiously ventures into the secretive structure of the Vatican, uncovering its perverse mechanism of power, loyalty and omertà which obscures its responsibility vis-à-vis sexual crimes. The at-the-time-Cardinal Ratzinger appears as an ambivalent figure, informed and concerned about clerical sex abuses – in particular about the horrific actions of Marcial Maciel Degollado – but too loyal to the Vatican institution to take action.

Alex Gibney’s Mea Maxima Culpa strikes for its depth, rhythm and ambition. The documentary maintains throughout an incredible clarity of exposition and an objective journalistic approach to the issue, carefully selecting and effectively editing surprisingly varied sources of materials - news footage, photographs, a series of tremendous Super-8 videos, graphs, newspaper articles, archive documents and some recreated scenes. Amid the speeding rationality of the evidences, however, the strongest voice remains that of Terry, Gary, Arthur and Bob – their mute signing conveying anger, pain and emotions with overwhelming intensity.

Leaving religion and faith aside, Gibney’s approach to the issue is realistic and pragmatic. Clerical sexual abuse is a crime and should be handled as such, but because the Church encourages secrecy about these matters in order to protect its reputation, it has created the perfect environment for paedophilia to thrive unpunished. Gibney was subtle enough to leave the question of celibacy – and the much debated issue of clerical marriage – outside the picture. The Church’s omission of sexual abuses and its unwillingness to take action against priests who have been sexual offenders is the ‘lay’ problem – and civil crime – that Mea Maxima Culpa tackles. 

Ultimately, the question Mea Maxima Culpa poses is a question of justice, of responsibility: why is no punishment imposed and who is to blame? What appears through the series of scandals is a troubling image of the Vatican, whose belief in its own infallibility and righteousness ultimately becomes the justification to its own corruption. Society, by granting to the figure of the priests an innocence that needs no proof and a trust that needs not to be earned, has contributed to create this undisputed image of an infallible Church. By the same token, the documentary seems to argue, people have an incredible power: that of forsaking this misconception and that of demanding justice and punishment for clerical sexual abuses.

Mea Maxima Culpadoes not advocate a change in faith; it advocates a change in culture. And it seemed a telling - maybe inspiring? - coincidence that, as the documentary had its first screening, a Pope stepped down from its position. 

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