Читать книгу UnHoly Communion-Lessons Learned from Life among Pedophiles, Predators, and Priests - Hank Ph.D. Estrada - Страница 9

Father John Raab quickly took me under his authority and introduced me to everyone in the parish. He often complimented me on my appearance and my “very friendly” smile. I definitely enjoyed the unexpected attention and initially appreciated the compliments. Being alone in a new place or among strangers was slightly uncomfortable, but Father John helped me feel welcomed and appreciated. I began looking forward to receiving Father John’s undivided attention and the personal praises he lavished upon me, which continued throughout the summer. Father John struck me as a very gentle, spiritually prayerful, and intelligent man, and I admired his overall sense of serenity and soft tone of speech.

One hot summer afternoon after working all weekend with Father John, I was invited to join our parish household for an outing to a nearby lake. All the Claretian priests and brothers from Saint Anne's parish went, including Father John. About four or five of us got into a car and traveled up to Lake San Marcos.

Until this outing, I hadn’t shared much personal information with Father John, or he with me. The majority of our communications had revolved around various ministry activities and parish religious life. This outing, I thought, would offer me a chance to get to know a little more about Father John—the man, instead of just knowing him as a priest and spiritual mentor. I innocently thought that perhaps I would learn about his personal interests, family life, hobbies, et cetera.

After we had arrived at the lake and were enjoying ourselves in the water, swimming and horsing around, Father John suddenly swam over to me and began to splash in a frolicking manner. At one point he playfully grabbed hold of my arm, reached down to seize and tickle my foot, and then pushed my head under the water. When I resurfaced, he tickled me again by placing both his hands around my waist; then he moved his arms up and around my chest and stomach, holding me tightly against his body for a few seconds. A sudden feeling of discomfort surged through my body. I was surprised; I didn't know Father John could be so playful and yet here he was, touching and grabbing me and being physically aggressive. I recognized old, confused feelings of excitement, fear, and pleasure that were familiar to my past, once again surface within me. I was torn between feeling excited that Father John was comfortable enough to display his focused attention to on me, and ashamed that I was getting physically aroused as well.

I pushed him away and off of me; but instead of taking this as an assertive clue, he came up from behind me and once more, pulled me against him, only this time I could feel his erect penis pressing up against my back. He wore small bikini briefs, and if he had been standing above water, his penis would have stuck out above the waistband. I instinctively pushed him away and was shocked that he made no attempt to excuse himself or apologize. I realized then that he was testing to see just how far he could take this sexual escapade. His only reaction was to smile and stare at me as I turned and swam away and got out of the water. I avoided Father John for the rest of the day until we were seated alone together in the back seat of the car for the long drive home to the parish.

We had a five or six hour drive that late afternoon and each of us took a turn driving. Those who sat in the rear seat took turns trying to sleep; one would lie down while the other sat up. Towards the last three hours of our trip, late afternoon turned to evening and as it turned out, Father John and I found ourselves in the back seat—alone. I was lying down with my head rested on a sleeping bag near Father John's lap and at one point he lifted the sleeping bag away and gently placed my head on his lap.

At first he did nothing but sit there; then he began to stroke my hair, very gently and tenderly. It felt unusually comfortable and relaxing. He then placed his hand on my chest and occasionally he would gently slide it over my chest. I could feel his eyes just studying me as he continued to softly rub his hand over my arms and chest. I remember feeling really safe and cared for, unlike anything I had experienced in childhood.

A few times I sensed his whole body tense up from wanting to reach down from my stomach to touch my crotch. He would lift his hand from resting on my belly and then gently drop it back down, as though he were fighting temptation. I also saw him studying the other two members seated up front, making sure they weren’t observing his movements. I felt uneasy, anxious, and once more very confused. I was unsure of many things, which included my religious vocation, my self-worth, consequences and the magnitude that negative choices can have for the remainder of my life. I was in a state of distress. I took the action of sitting up, acting as though I had just awakened from sleep, although in reality I had been totally awake.

Because I knew nothing about Father John’s personal history, I was in my limited way attempting to sort out my own perceptions about him. However, this did no good, and instead I became more confused than ever. Was he just an extremely “touchy-feely” type of guy, sincere in his affection, or was he really physically and sexually attracted to men—to me? I felt slightly bad, as if I had been letting my own sexual abuse history taint this seemingly gentle priest’s expressions of friendly affection. I was completely at a loss.

Later that same night, when I was getting ready for bed, Father John called me over to his room. I put on my walking shorts and walked to his room, which was located across from mine. I found him standing, facing me, wearing only his walking shorts and no shirt, and holding in his hand a tube of sunburn lotion. He asked if I would rub some lotion on his sunburnt back and shoulders. Before I could answer, he quickly stripped off his shorts and fell face down on his bed, wearing only his boxers.

I thought it strange that he would remove his pants when all he had asked me to do was rub cream on his shoulders and back, but I was as a young child taught, or rather programmed to obey authority. Wanting to get this quickly over with, I spread the lotion over his obviously sunburnt back and as soon as I finished, he thanked me and said good night. I returned to my room and while lying in bed I tried to make sense of the day’s surprising and not-so-pleasant events. Adding to my confusion was this new issue with the sunburn lotion. I sensed he was physically and sexually interested in me, but I wasn't really sure. As future events unfolded, my gut reaction at the time had been right on, but I allowed my emotional brain to talk me out of acknowledging and accepting the obvious truth. Father John had been grooming and testing me for the purpose of taking over my trust. It became clear to me that he couldn’t care less for my own vulnerability, mental history, and emotional scars; what he ultimately wanted was to emotionally and sexually seduce me for his own selfish gain. As his nefarious motives became further evident, it became clearer to me that Father John Raab’s history was that of being a predatory priest!