A time to forgive

"FROM the age of seven, I was a server and a reader at Mass. I knew then I wanted to be a priest, and so my parish priest at Wymonham, Norfolk, offered to give me free Latin lessons at his home on Saturday mornings."

Little did the young Ray Lyons know that such a simple suggestion from a man he looked on as his father - his biological one having already died - would lead him to six years of sexual abuse from 1962 to 1967.

"Basically, the priest was a good man," Ray said.

"He was a Japanese prisoner-of-war hero, and he held the confidence and trust of people in the parish, his whole congregation, and of my mother.

"I'd go to his very grand presbytery on Saturdays, and the abuse started very gradually.

"After several months, he'd invite me to stay over on Friday nights, and as my mother agreed, I'd go.

"But he became more and more affectionate.

"From hugs, the abuse started and would involve holding and intimate touching. It went on for years until I was 12.

"He even took me on holiday with him to Italy, and during that time he abused me."

Ray didn't tell anyone about his ordeals at the hands of his abuser.

"Even as a child I realised what he was doing was wrong," Ray said.

"I just compartmentalised my relationship with him, and when he'd invite me to go around to his house, I just accepted that something would happen."

In 1966, the child abuser moved to a new post within the church. While Ray would see less of him, due to the 60-mile round trip from his home, at most meetings, sexual contact would take place.

That was until one afternoon in 1967, over tea with his mother, things came to a head.

He explained: "I don't know why she became suspicious, but one day she asked me straight whether I was being abused by the priest.

"I said that I was, and she asked me what had happened.

"She just said: 'Okay, I'll sort it out, and it will never happen again'.

"It didn't, and we never discussed the topic again, even though I would continue to visit the priest until he died some years later. On each of those subsequent visits, no abuse took place."

Ray says his mother confronted the priest direct, but doubts very much whether she would have contacted the Diocesan Bishop at the time or the police.

"If my mother were to be judged by the standards of today, she would have been guilty of a cover-up," Ray added.

"But I don't accept that.

"She did what she believed to be right by the standards of her day. It's not fair to use the hindsight of 2002 to judge people in 1967."

Despite his mother's confrontation with his abuser, Ray says there was never any hostility between the two men.

Ray said: "I didn't feel angry or bitter towards him at any stage, just sorry for him.

"He never apologised to me in the years before he died, neither did I raise the subject with him.

"Right from my first contact with him, he never told me to keep what he did 'our secret', he just assumed I would never tell on him. He used and abused his power over me."

As a Christian, Ray believes that for victims of sexual abuse to be able to move on, they need to start to forgive their abusers.

He said: "I went through various stages of forgiveness, but then I always had a sense that he was sick, and had a split personality.

"He was a very kind man, but also going through internal guilt and trauma."

Later on in life Ray heard the priest had abused another boy.

"I felt mixed feelings of anger and guilt at the news," he said.

"I kept thinking if only I'd had gone public over my abuse, maybe this other lad would have been saved.

"It was the classic victim-survivor guilt thing.

"I visited him up until his death. He was never prosecuted or charged for any offence."

From his early experiences of Roman Catholic priests, Ray would have been forgiven for turning his back on the Church.

But his sense of calling, starting at seven, lived on, and following 11 years in the pub trade, Ray applied to become a priest.

In June 1992, he was made an assistant priest at the City Centre Catholic Parish in Southampton, and from September 1995, has been parish priest at the Waterside parish near Hythe.

Now aged 47, Ray is convinced his calling, 40 years ago, was from God, and for a purpose. "Nothing that happened to me in childhood put me off the priesthood," he said.

"I saw a clear difference between what the Church taught about the Gospels and Christian lifestyle, and the frailty and sinfulness of people in the Church and outside.

"But what happened to me has made me put up very clear boundaries in my own ministry when it comes to relating to children.

"It took me many years to realise that I was very nervous around children, and then I realised that it was because I never wanted one of them to ever have the experienced that I went through.

"I was more confident working with teenagers, but then, that was the happiest time of my youth, when the abuse had stopped."

Ray acknowledges that memories die hard, and that it will take a long time for the Church to be allowed to move on from the sexual scandals that have damaged its mission and reputation for decades.

But he has a solution to get things going.

He said: "We all need to draw a line under the past, the Church, yes, but also those of us who were abused by priests.

"We need to have a National Service of Reconciliation, and for the Church to seek the forgiveness of whoever feels they can offer us a fingertip of friendship.

"We all need to move on.

"For me, moving on means doing all in my power to ensure that no new priest in the Church come in with the purpose of using the Church to further their sexual depravation.

"Moving on also means supporting and caring for my ministerial colleagues, making sure they have a listening ear, and a safety valve whenever they're under pressure.

"I suppose deep down, I've become a guardian for children in the Church. I just pray that I never make an error of judgement and let someone through who goes on to abuse."

Children affected by issues raised in this article should contact Childline on 0800 1111.