I feel sorry for Paul Shanley. This does not prevent me from feeling sorrow and deep outrage on behalf of his victims.

I also admire the courage of Shanley’s accuser whose testimony led to his tormentor’s conviction. He persevered on the stand despite the emotional turmoil he clearly had to endure. Tempted more than once to abandon his case, the unnamed firefighter managed to fight on.

Shanley has been sentenced to a prison term that will last at least until 2013. For him, this will make for an unhappy old age, to say the least. Not without reason, his victims feel this sentence altogether too lenient for what he did to them.

I first met Paul Shanley in 1962 at the parish in Stoneham where he was one of the priests on the ministerial staff. He impressed me, not only with his personal charm, but also with his dedication to ministry. There was nothing to show that, as was later alleged, he may have been already engaged in sexual abuse of young people.

In years following, I was a colleague of Paul Shanley in the campus ministry of the Archdiocese of Boston. He had a reputation for being creative, though unconventional in helping young people in trouble. Like many others of his peers, I uncritically welcomed his reaching out to street youth and did not ever imagine that he could be violating so flagrantly the trust we had in him.

What a human tragedy it is that the young priest who presumably entered the seminary with idealism and dedication is entering upon the last phase of his life in such disgrace before the world! That his life trajectory should have taken this course strikes me as an almost unimaginable tragedy.

Surely his family and friends must have felt pride on the day of his ordination, happy that Paul was setting out on a career full of promise and idealism. The contrast between the handsome smiling young man then, and the stoic 74-year-old figure who stood with head bowed listening impassively to his condemnation last week, is in itself painful. His addiction to abusive behavior strongly suggests that he should never have entered a seminary in the first place.

That he leaves behind him such a trail of havoc, having done much to ruin the lives of his victims, rates as horrible. It is hard to imagine how he can go on living with that weight of shame. And, given the scandalous fate of John Geoghan, Shanley must fear what can happen to him in a prison run by the Commonwealth of Massachusetts.

He must also live with relentless fury from his accusers. One of them says he wants Shanley to die in prison but “however he dies, I hope it’s slow and painful.” That same man spoke of going to bed the night of the guilty verdict “with a smile from ear to ear.”

I cannot share these sentiments about another human being, however heinous his crimes. My faith is in a God who never gives up on us, no matter how mired in sin we are. Granted, I have not been myself abused and cannot speak with the voice of those who have, but still it seems to me wrong to wish evil for another.

Just as I hope those abused will find healing, so my hope is for Paul Shanley to discover, if he has not already, God’s forgiveness and the healing of his own soul. It is clear that he will suffer grievously in prison, and he undoubtedly fears reprisals such as John Geoghan suffered. And he will almost surely be tempted to despair.

This is no idyllic way to spend old age, to be sure. Especially when you have brought the punishment upon yourself, it must be terribly bitter.

Anyone who takes his cue from Jesus, however, cannot give up on himself. The inmost soul of a human being, unknown by others, is never beyond the reach of God’s knowledge and love.

For a spiritual perspective on Paul Shanley’s situation, I consulted a man deeply versed in the Christian tradition. His first response was one that seems to me sound and worth keeping in mind. “Civil conviction has nothing to say about sin, grace, and forgiveness,” he told me.

“There is a higher order,” he continued, “and the actions of government do not necessarily reflect how God looks at it.” Churches and other religious institutions have chaplains in prisons so as to hold out the offer of divine forgiveness even for the worst kind of sins.  

The moral situation of those abused and that of Shanley are surely far different. However, they have in common the need for spiritual help that goes beyond what human beings can provide. I hope for all of them that they will experience the healing power of divine and human love.

Richard Griffin