I didn’t set out to preach about it, but one week several things happened at once: A priest friend e-mailed me, wondering if he should preach about it; Bishop John M. Smith, in a column in The Monitor, reiterated diocesan policy on allegations against priests accused of sexual abuse of minors, and several parishioners asked why they weren’t hearing anything about the issue from the pulpit.

My priest friend had observed that preaching about the scandal and the need to be open about the facts, might correlate well with the Scripture readings that week — the raising of Lazarus from the tomb. All week long, I could not get out of my head the objection, “But Lord, if we remove the stone, there will be a stench.” So I set about deciding what to say, and how to say it.

After much prayer and research, I preached what I hoped was an even-handed appeal for truth, justice and prudence. I encouraged us to keep faith that Jesus would ultimately resurrect new life from whatever comes to light when the stone is rolled away.

In general, the response from two crowded Sunday congregations at which I preached was overwhelmingly positive. People expressed gratitude that I had addressed the issue, approval of my message and some admiration for the courage it took to proclaim it.

The positive comments were heartfelt and expressed in detail, far beyond a slap on the back and “nice homily, Father!”

However, at the first Mass I preached that day, a mother with a grammar-school-age child lingered to express her dissatisfaction with my remarks, not what I said, but where I said them. Sunday Mass was no place for such topics. Father, there are children present! Her child was asking questions now, and she didn’t come to Mass to hear about such things.

I thanked her for her comments and reassured her that I was only too aware that children are present in the assembly and asked if she meant that no subject can ever be addressed in the homily that might puzzle a ten year old?

Yes, that was what she meant.

Perhaps this was not the “usual” Sunday homily, but these are not “usual” times, I reminded her. Our conversation was cordial but animated.

After Mass, I wondered if some of the criticism of contemporary Roman Catholic preaching could be explained by answering that some people felt every homily had to be directed at grammar-school-age children. Yet, since the point of the homily was to respect children, I reviewed the homily before I preached it again at the afternoon Mass.

I prayed about whether to change the subject entirely, and decided I could not. So I took out some fifty-cent words and changed the tone slightly, without changing the underlying message. And preached again.

This time, half way through, a man in the front row expressed his objection with a loud and quite visible departure from the church, followed several moments later by his family.

Momentarily distracted, I continued by observing that although some people think we should not be speaking about this topic at all, most people want to talk about nothing else. How can we avoid at least raising the issue, articulating diocesan policy and pleading for healing? Once again, the reaction was overwhelmingly positive.

Still, the objection that children are present lingers in my mind. If the mother objected to my choice of words, poor delivery or confusing message, fair enough. But it seemed to be the topic and the place. Sunday Mass was no place for such topics.

Would that we didn’t need to talk about sex abuse in the Church because it didn’t happen. But it did. Would that we didn’t need to pray for healing because no one was wounded. But they were.

I know there are children present. That was precisely my point.

Father Manning, a physician, is parochial vicar of St. Martha Parish, Point Pleasant, and diocesan coordinator of Respect Life Ministry.