VATICAN CITY (VATICAN CITY)
La Croix International [France]
July 5, 2024
By Katie Prejean McGrady
While opinions divide on the future of the works of mosaic priest Marko Rupnik, accused of sexual abuse, columnist Katie Prejean recounts what she did with a work by the artist she purchased by mistake.
I accidentally bought a piece of Marko Rupnik art while in Rome last month.
I saw a lovely Divine Mercy medal in a gift shop right by my hotel, and priced at only eight euro, it seemed like a steal. I’ve long had a devotion to the Divine Mercy, I did not have a medal to wear on the chain around my neck, and I thought it’d be appropriate to add one while on this trip to Rome for the World Meeting of Human Fraternity.
An hour later, as I was adding the medal to my chain, I took it out of the small display box and realized, to my horror, that on the back of the metal medallion was a colored image of the Jubilee of Mercy 2016 logo created by Marko Rupnik, the former Jesuit who has been credibly accused and is being investigated for abuses of a grotesque and horrific nature.
I held the medal, walked over to the trash can, and went to drop it in, prepared to rid myself of the image of Jesus carrying a man on his shoulders, the signature big black oval eyes from Rupnik’s art, one in the same in the middle of their faces.
But then I hesitated.
Are you allowed to throw a medal with an image of Christ into the trash? One side is the Divine Mercy image, and the other side (no matter how much I dislike the artistic style or the artist) is Jesus carrying a wounded man on his shoulders. Jesus is on this medal. Am I allowed to toss it in the trash? It wasn’t blessed, but it still bore sacred images. It was only eight euro (10 dollars), but it still had the face of Jesus upon it.
I froze, and decided to just put the medal in my suitcase for the time being. I could handle it when I got home, but I surely wouldn’t be wearing it around my neck while walking the streets of the Eternal City.Further reading: ‘We will eventually have to remove Rupnik’s mosaics’, says Bishop of Lourdes
And here is why, as plainly as I can put it: if I don’t have to wear, see, or support Marko Rupnik’s art, then I won’t. The credible accusations, disciplinary action taken thus far, and the ongoing bungling of the entire scandal is proof enough that I, in even this small way of wearing a medal with his art around my neck, do not have to be complicit. That is a choice I can easily make. It is a small choice. It is a small protest. It is, quite literally, the least I can do to avoid even tacit support of an artist who created his art while abusing women.
But we are not called to just do “the least.” As Catholics, commanded to love and serve the least of these, we are invited, nay commissioned, to stand up for the most vulnerable, the ones cast aside and marginalized. And the victims of Marko Rupnik fit that category. Time and time again, it seems that mosaics with big eyes are valued more than real human beings with hearts that have been crushed. The comments of Paolo Ruffini in Atlanta last month make it seem like Marko Rupnik is the victim, that his art is being criticized and he is being castigated prematurely, despite the credible accusations, removal by the Jesuits, and a reopening of the investigation and case against him. Victims of abuse, of any kind, are being told that mosaics on a wall are more valuable than their healing and justice.
And it isn’t just official answers to Q&A’s in a room of media. It’s tweets likening the sins of Rupnik to the sins of Caravaggio, or tweets saying that abuse victims wouldn’t want Rupnik’s art to be removed — even as other victims of abuse have spoken up boldly, claiming the opposite. It’s when people claim “oh it would just be too expensive” to remove the art that we begin to see where priorities might lie: in how much it would truly cost to stand with victims. When people insist that art can be separated from artist, and a simple QR code beside an image could provide an explanation that the Church doesn’t support the artist who created what we’re looking at, even though we have been told the artist himself abused women as he was creating it, that we come to realize that maybe this “no tolerance for abuse” phrase is just that: a phase, but not an action item that’s top priority.
What then are we to do? Rend your garments and beg for mercy? Write think pieces that won’t be read by those who could do something about it?
Perhaps, yes. We continue writing pieces that further call out the harm of Rupnik’s art. Perhaps we more vocally support Cardinal O’Malley (Editor: Cardinal Sean O’Malley, president of the Pontifical Commission for the Protection of Minors), who called upon the Vatican to be aware of the harm being caused by using Rupnik’s art, repeatedly, online and in print. Perhaps we stand by victims of abuse, telling them that we value them more than mosaics on a wall, and that we will fight for justice in their name and healing in their hearts.
And, perhaps we can throw away the medals that have his art upon them, that we accidentally bought while in Rome. It’s a small start, but more than those who could actually do something about it, seem to be doing themselves. Further reading: Rupnik case: Tensions rise at the Vatican over use of artwork by priest accused of sexual abuse
Katie Prejean McGrady is an author, speaker, and host of The Katie McGrady Show on Sirius XM‘s The Catholic Channel and a regular contributor to La Croix International with her column ‘From the pews to the tweets‘. She lives, works, and writes from Lake Charles, Louisiana.