The Ireland of 1992 which saw Bishop Eamonn Casey's secrets tumbling into the light of public knowledge was a different society from today. The gaps between public proclamation and personal practice, which were subsequently revealed in a succession of scandals, were not yet apparent. Cases of child sexabuse by religious and other persons in authority were rarely heard of. There was no divorce. Homosexual acts were susceptible to criminal prosecution. The searing issues raised by the `X' case, and the debate on abortion, were still in the future. It has been an extraordinary six years of change since Bishop Casey acknowledged that he had fathered a child by Ms Annie Murphy and that he had used diocesan funds to help pay for their support. Nor has the Catholic Church had any monopoly of scandal. Politicians, business, financial institutions, and others, have come under scrutiny and in too many instances were found to be wanting in their standards. It is arguable that what makes the Casey affair stand out in the public consciousness is the fact that his offences were the first to become public knowledge, marking, in a sense, the end of an age of innocence.
It is sometimes said that Bishop Casey's offences seem almost venial when set beside the monstrous crimes of Brendan Smyth. That does not negative the fact that Bishop Casey perpetrated a series of grave injustices, not least in respect of his young son Peter and Peter's mother, Annie Murphy. It is not difficult to understand the sense of betrayal felt by many within the wider Catholic Church. Nor is it difficult to understand the apprehension within the Hierarchy at Bishop Casey's possible return to Ireland. Yet it seems likely that the greater proportion of the laity would be content to have him back in Ireland. And it also appears that the Hierarchy is anxious to do the right thing for a man who is no longer young, who has repented his misdeeds and who has put in long years in conditions of hardship and humility at parish level in Latin America. Bishop Casey is now in Britain and it appears that discussions are taking place to see what arrangements might be possible if he were to take up a parish or a curacy in Ireland. What might be described as a controlled re-entry for him is under way.
Charity and forgiveness argue strongly that he should be allowed to return and, if he wishes, to take up pastoral duties. His presence would not sit easily with some. But for others - probably a great majority of the faithful - it would bespeak sentiments of charity, of humanity, and of willingness to square up to unpalatable realities which have not always characterised the Church in cases of personal crisis. Did not Jesus set up his Church as a Church of Sinners? Did not the people around him - the first bishops and priests - include among their numbers those who were publicly reviled? Did not his chosen successor, Peter, find forgiveness even though he betrayed his Master by denying him on the night of his arrest? If Eamonn Casey's actions took place in 1998 they would be no less reprehensible than in 1992 when he fled the country, or seventeen years previously when his relationship with Annie Murphy began. But we are a very much more mature society. Ordinary people do not need to be shielded from the fact that those in exemplary positions may sometimes act in a fashion which is not exemplary. Indeed, they will neither believe nor tolerate any pretence to the contrary. Bishop Casey can be a valuable, living affirmation of the Church's capacity to live with its own imperfections and to discharge its ministry in spite of them. Having him back would not just be charitable but wise.