parents.
Nearly every material need was provided for every priest and seminarian: meals, gas, insurance, medical care, cars, travel expenses, even housing. Priests and religious clergy are the objects of unending attention and attraction by the faithful—and they know it. Even as a seminarian, when I dressed in full black priestly garb with white collar, I noticed and experienced parishioners vying for the opportunity to get physically close to me with ostentatious hugs, overly friendly innuendos, and by initiating private and exclusive one-on-one conversations. There was no way to ignore this typical reaction from people each time they saw me wearing the traditional Roman collar. It remains a tempting fact for all religious persons who wear distinctive clergy-affiliated garb. No doubt many parishioners still react this way when a priest enters a room wearing his collar.
I vividly remember being taught as child to look up to the local priest and sternly urged to offer him complete respect and reverence whenever our paths crossed. Never in my entire young life was there any discussion about being careful or cautious around a priest. A priest could do no wrong. I was proud knowing I was on my own personal journey to becoming an honorable priest. I truly felt without regrets that I was now called to a religious vocation and fortunate enough to be among this friendly community of ordained priests and religious brothers.
Roman Collar
As seminarians, we were expected to attend public colleges and select training programs that most interested us academically and socially. The wearing of the Roman collar was prohibited to only times when ministry service was being performed around the parish and in hospitals and jail settings. We taught religious education classes, studied liturgy and homily sermon preparation, visited the sick and elderly, and led rosary recitals during wakes and funeral prayer services. Some of us also sang in choirs and those with musical talents performed with local parish music groups.
The most rewarding choice I made for my ministerial training was to work among persons who were deaf and hearing impaired. I was fortunate enough to be involved with one of the largest Catholic hearing-impaired communities in the Los Angeles Archdiocese and apprenticed under a remarkable hearing-impaired priest, Father Brian Doran. With Father Doran’s guidance and leadership, I became a sign language interpreter and eventually learned to translate the entire liturgy from Spanish and English into American Sign Language and vice versa, something few interpreters were able to do at the time.
Father Doran remains one of the most dedicated, beloved, and revered priests, for his years of service and personal sacrifice, not only to Catholics with hearing impairments in southern California, but also among persons with other disabilities in communities across the country.
In 1979 I graduated with a BA from Loyola Marymount University in Los Angeles and was to begin my Masters of Theology training in Berkeley, California, the following September. Shortly after college graduation, I was assigned to spend the summer working at Saint Anne's, a Claretian parish in Forth Worth, Texas.
I was to assist the pastor and his associates with whatever they chose for me to do as part of my seminary pastoral training. There I was introduced to Father John Rabb. He was about ten years my senior and had been asked to supervise me in various church ministries. He was familiar to me from occasional social encounters at our annual community retreats provided for all priests, brothers, and seminarians within the Order, and at various ceremonial religious events. My first impression of Father John was that he was a quiet, prayerful, and spiritually sensitive young priest.
CHAPTER 3
Meeting Father John
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
