Further reflections on the Ousley debacle: Why we’re alarmed

The following post includes further reflections on the Todd Ousley debacle in the Bishop Prince Singh case and churchwide implications for clergy discipline.

Specifically, are we the only ones to see the irony of Sean Rowe’s pastoral response in the Singh case? We’re thinking of the part where Ousley gets Title IV training.

To be clear, since 2017, Ousley has been in charge of training newly consecrated bishops via his role as the bishop in charge of the Office of Pastoral Development. Thus, the proposition that Ousley doesn’t understand Title IV is both shocking and improbable.

Indeed, Ousley’s role in this ongoing train wreck is best assessed in light of his conduct over time. Even back in his days as a bishop diocesan, Ousley repeatedly ignored Title IV complaints, in many cases not responding to complainants — which, of course, denies complainants their rights to appeal dismissal and does nothing to reassure them that they will be treated with respect, care, and concern. 

Nor is Ousley exactly wet behind the ears. He’s been around long enough to know, or have reason to know, what’s in the Title IV canons. Saying he doesn’t know is like saying that the president doesn’t know how to find the White House — on its face, an improbable and alarming assertion.

Moreover, while we believe annual Title IV training would be helpful for all senior church officials, including those on the diocesan level, the best way to understand Title IV is to pick up the canons and read them.

Indeed, as Robin Hammeal-Urban recommends in her excellent book on clergy misconduct, the first step for any intake officer or judicatory faced with a Title IV complaint should be to pick up the canons, and read Title IV in its entirety. Then, the following day, they should re-read Title IV.

Why?

Because it’s far too easy to fall into the trap of thinking we understand what the canons say, despite the fact they are constantly changing. And mishandling a Title IV case, as is well documented, is a recipe for often irreparable reputational harm to all involved. Plus, far too often we see judicatories flying by the seat of the pants, coming up with “policies” that expressly contradict the canons. (One, Julia E. Whitworth, the newly consecrated bishop diocesan of Massachusetts, even tells people, “That’s not what the church does in practice.” Sorry folks, we need less “practice” and more “canons” — and it sounds suspiciously like she’s been spending too much time hanging with Todd Ousley.)

Thus, either Ousley can’t read, or he can’t be bothered, or he’s following the Whitworth model. None of these options are acceptable.

In dealing with Ousley, there also are some profoundly disturbing signs of a shockingly wide disconnect from reality. Whether it’s his waxing rhapsodic about the wonderful outcomes he engineered in the Whayne Hougland debacle, or his statements to the effect that the presiding bishop cannot tell bishops diocesan what to do, Ousley at best is running around a stained glass echo chamber that has become a parallel and strange universe.

At worst — well, let’s not go there.

The fact that Ousley has been training newly consecrated bishops for the past seven years naturally leads to the question: If the trainer doesn’t understand Title IV, how will we ensure that bishops and canons to the ordinary understand it? 

The answer, we believe, is that all bishops need updated training from someone, like the now-retired Robin Hammeal-Urban, who actually understands Title IV and views clergy discipline as a mandatory, not optional, part of a purportedly hierarchical church.

There’s also a troubling implication to the requirement that Ousley complete Title IV training, which is that it suggests we have not seen the last of him.

That’s disturbing, as he’s managed to single-handedly cause enormous problems for the church, not to mention suffering for those hurt by the church who actually were foolish enough to think that the church acts with integrity.

Again, many of these problems are irreparable. So why on earth would anyone want Ousley as a bishop provisional, transitional, or even as the city dog catcher? The guy couldn’t follow a procedure if it were driving the car in front of him, and he’s got all the ethical perspective of an angry warthog with a thorn in its backside.

Relatedly, most dioceses assume they are doing just fine on Title IV, even though they clearly are not. For example, several years ago, the Diocese of Virginia (DioVA) received a formal recommendation from the Diocese of Washington (EDOW) to get Title IV training. Yet subsequent training sessions in the area were almost entirely devoid of DioVA clergy, and we see no signs that things will improve any time soon.

Speaking of clergy, there’s an aspect of Title IV that is consistently ignored by the church, which is the requirement that all clergy report anything — including their own behavior — that may be a violation of Title IV. In other words, there’s no Fifth Amendment when it comes to church discipline.

Yet the reality is that, perhaps due to the dismal examples of Curry and Ousley, clergy invariably don’t report violations. Indeed, priests often brush off issues by saying, “Oh, he’s a friend of mine, he wouldn’t do that,” even though it’s facially obvious that an offense occurred.

Meanwhile, behind the scenes, clergy conferences usually are abuzz with the latest gossip about the misconduct of serial offenders within their respective dioceses, thus making it clear that clergy typically have every reason to know of problematic behavior among their peers. Or as one priest said of a non-friend priest we know, “He’s been getting away with murder for years.”

And the complaint to the intake officer was made when?

In other words, if the Episcopal Church is to be successful in efforts to clean up corruption, it has to start with a cultural shift. That shift includes clergy moving from interaction built on gossip to engagement centered on accountability. As in, “if you see something, say something.”

To be clear, that is a huge change and one that will not be easily made.

Indeed, the current modus operandi is to ignore, deny, evade, equivocate, dismiss, and diminish complaints of clergy misconduct.

That paradigm is underscored by the conduct of judicatories in the Losch case, all of whom ignored, brushed off, or covered-up complaints of a child rapist, still active in ministry. These persons aiding and abetting a child rapist include:

• Former presiding bishop Michael Curry.
• Todd Ousley, who insisted that dealing with such issues wasn’t “his role in the church.”
• Retired bishop Alan Gates, who ignored the matter.
• Glenda Curry and her minion, Rob Morpeth, who actively covered up the matter by falsely telling law enforcement that Losch was not in active ministry and had no access to children. Last we heard making a false statement to law enforcement was a criminal offense — or does that not apply if you are a bishop?

And when the stuff finally hits the fan in the Losch case, what are Curry and Ousley going to say? “Geez, I’m sorry I didn’t take the fact that you were raped by a priest seriously?”

You can’t make this crud up.

Relatedly, there also are a number of canons to the ordinary and chancellors who are complicit, including several who falsely claim that the church “cannot get involved in a [civil or criminal] matter.”

But Title IV makes clear that it is neither criminal nor civil in nature, but rather ecclesiastical, and thus not subject to review by the courts. Thus, by adhering to this knowing fabrication, the church forces victims of abuse into the courts, where they come up against the Church Pension Group (CPG) and its $18.4 billion in assets. And it does so despite the fact that, when it so chooses, the church routinely does invoke Title IV in the face of civil and criminal litigation. (Remember when we pointed out that TEC is a narcissistic shape-shifter? Sometimes hierarchical in polity, other times congregational or presbyterian, the only consistent factor is that the church will do whatever suits it best in the moment.)

And, to be clear, although CPG is a captive insurance carrier, meaning it’s wholly owned and controlled by the denomination, its conduct is in no way Christian. Instead, CPG does as little as possible, as late as possible, after making victims of abuse jump through as many hoops as possible. In other words, it follows the old Roman model of responding to abuse, even as the Episcopal church tries to convince itself itself that it’s good at dealing with abuse.

Bottom line: Victims of abuse should not have to sue the church to obtain redress. It’s not how Jesus would have responded, and it’s not how Christians are called to respond.

As to written apologies from Curry and Ousley, spare us.

While there are cases in which a written apology is an appropriate first step towards repentance and potential reconciliation, in this case all an apology does is to shut down the conversation. Neither perpetrator is serious about changing their ways; if they were, the would have changed their behavior long ago. Thus, all the Singhs will see are two artfully worded letters that avoid taking responsibility for their conduct, while invoking the buzz words of contrition. In other words, two big nothing burgers, with a side of BS.

Indeed, we hope Rowe will insist on reviewing the so-called apologies before they are sent, or we will end up with fauxpologies that say, in the words of one abusive Virginia priest, “I’m sorry you were offended…but when we checked….”

In other words, this mess could still get worse if it’s badly handled.

Coming up next: Why Santosh Marray needs to leave sooner, rather than later