“If my story helps just one person realize the danger of clericalism and abuse of power, it’s worth it to me.”

Jennifer LaVoy, 44, is a stay-at-home mother to six children, four of whom still live at home and two who are married, with families of their own. She and her husband live in Wisconsin and have been married for 25 years.

LaVoy aims to live intentionally. “The Danish culture has a term called hygge, and I feel that word exemplifies very much who I am and how I live,” she says. “It’s not so easily defined, but it is a way of embracing wellness and contentment by creating an environment that nourishes those emotions in your soul. I strive to create this daily within my home and in my daily activities.” For LaVoy this involves simple things like meeting an old friend for coffee, spending time with her grandchildren, trying new recipes, reading books and talking about them, doing Pilates in the sunshine, being active with the family dog, and enjoying the family garden. “All these things are my hobbies,” she says.

NOTE: We offer this post with a warning that it includes mentions of abortion and descriptions of sexual assault.

Awake: Jennifer, we are honored that you are willing to tell us about your experience. I believe this is the first time that you have shared your story in a public way. What would you like to tell us about your abuse? 

Jennifer LaVoy: I think it would make sense to start with my past, which I believe contributed to the abuse. When I was 18 years old, I had an abortion. This brought on self-hatred, shame, and a conviction that I was going to hell. It wasn’t until years later that I found the courage to confess my abortion to a priest who told me for the first time that Jesus and my baby forgave me and loved me. I couldn’t believe it! I devoted myself to my Catholic faith, now with the hope of heaven. We moved away shortly after this and I never forgot that kind priest.

We had truly found a home at a new parish, where I was a regular daily Mass attendee with all my children.  Eventually, a new priest to our diocese was assigned as pastor of our parish. I later learned that he had been kicked out of his previous diocese for sexual relations with women. After spending four months of in-patient therapy at a mental health facility, he was eventually incardinated into my diocese and after a one-year assignment with a senior pastor, was placed in a parish of his own as administrator and then pastor.

He began grooming me and the community immediately and it was textbook. He continually sought me out, came to my home unannounced during the day to give me special holy cards, and sent me letters in the mail telling me very personal things. I felt special and honored that the pastor wanted to be my friend. Eventually, he told me that he was convinced that God brought him to my parish for him to be a gift to me and me to be a gift to him. He called me “Angel” because he said I was his angel of light. He said that I was very special to have a priest pray for me and to spiritually place me on the altar during Mass as he did. He said that I was receiving special graces from God because of his prayers. At one point, he suggested that if I was not willing to be this gift for him, he would find someone else who would, implying that I would no longer receive these special graces.

The psychological and spiritual abuse which began subtly became grueling. He wanted me to say certain prayers with him and became upset if I didn’t. He once took me into a church, sat me down in front of the image of Divine Mercy and instructed me to look at it while he went to another pew to pray. Another time, he took me to a monastery and anointed my hands with holy oil and then instructed me to anoint his. At times when I questioned him, he responded by shrieking that I needed to trust him and “allow God’s gift.” Sometimes he would repeat, “Come, Holy Spirit, come, Holy Spirit” again and again until I agreed with him. At one point, he forced me to listen to him over the phone as he hit himself and screamed that I hated him because I had made him late for his regular volunteer commitment with high school girls.

Q. Jenny, I’d just like to pause here to take a deep breath. This is a lot to take in. And I’m sure this is not easy to share. 

A. It’s not easy at all. But it’s an important step in my healing. If my story helps just one person realize the danger of clericalism and abuse of power, it’s worth it to me.

He used the sacrament of reconciliation to pinpoint my vulnerabilities and after continually asking me what my past wound was, he one day asked me in the confessional if I had ever had an abortion. He said that it was common and he was surprised he hadn’t found more post-abortive women in our parish. Feeling as though I could not lie in confession, I told him about my abortion. He then told me that post-abortion healing was a specialty of his. He began regularly arousing himself by talking about needing to be close to my deepest wound and I allowed him to use me. This went on for more than a year until one day, he went further than just talking about my deepest wound and said something that made it clear that it was the procedure of the abortion that aroused him. The words he said are too vile to print. I was disgusted and immediately said no. He had all his weight on me to hold me down and repeatedly shouted perverted phrases while he violated my body. I used every bit of my strength to try to push him off me as I begged him to stop. He eventually relaxed enough that I was able to get out from under him. The next day, he called to explain to me that I must understand that he only did that and said those things because of his need to be close to my deepest wound. I told myself that he would not do this again and I should just put it out of my mind and continue to trust him. He was the priest after all. 

By the grace of God, a day came that I saw his phone and I saw with my own eyes that I was just one of many married women he was doing this to, and that he was also texting teenage girls in overly familiar ways. His eyes turned very dark and he said to me in a very low voice, “Well. now. you. know.” I’ll never forget those eyes as long as I live. He fled the parish in a rush of lies to the parish and his superiors.

I was terrified to report everything, for fear that I would not be believed, yet I knew that if I didn’t, he would be moved around and would continue to use the priesthood for his sexual gratification. It took all the courage I had to report him. I was immediately believed. Not only did the diocese know his true history, but I also have many handwritten letters and voicemails to verify what he did to me. My bishop acted immediately and this priest was eventually laicized. My bishop has also provided me with support, something I so rarely hear of among survivors. It’s taken me years of hard work and therapy to be able to live again and it’s something only another survivor of this kind of diabolical abuse can even begin to grasp.

Q. Jenny, I am so, so sorry that this happened to you. I believe you and I’m relieved that the diocese believed you as well. When you look over this entire experience, I wonder what has surprised you most in your journey as a survivor.

A. That sexual abuse of adult women in the Church is so much more common than I ever could have imagined. It’s been shocking to me, actually. I never thought that I had to safeguard myself or my daughters. It was drilled into our heads that priests abused boys. The sheer number of women whom I have personally met who have been abused and raped by priests is sickening. It’s diabolical and you will almost never hear about it because these women carry the cross of public humiliation, condemnation, and the common attitude, “at least this abuse is with a woman.” As if it isn’t as much of an embarrassment for the Church when the abuse is heterosexual. Women bear the scourge of victim-shaming and often the priest is simply moved after a minimal explanation to parishioners of “inappropriate behavior.”

Q. Given all that you’ve been through, how would you describe your relationship to the Catholic Church?

A. I can sum that up with John 6:68: “My Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life.”  I love the Catholic Church and I could never leave the Eucharist, though it is incredibly painful to practice my faith. Attending Mass takes great effort. I have PTSD from what I experienced, and I need to minimize those triggers. 

Q. That sounds tremendously difficult. I wonder who inspires you or gives you hope as a survivor?

A. My fellow survivors who have become my dear friends inspire me. I’m in awe of their strength and courage. Sara Larson is also someone who has greatly inspired me. She has selflessly given so much of herself to listening to and supporting survivors. Awake has given me much hope. I’m truly joyful when I can sit among other survivors and do my small part to help others know that they are not alone in this.

Q. Jenny, thank you for your courage in telling us the painful realities of your story. I wish you continued healing. As we close, is there anything else that you would like to share?

A. There was a time where I never could have imagined saying this, but I’ve come to the point in my journey where if God told me today that he would take it all away—that he would turn back time and make it so I would never meet that man and I would never know the racking pain and the depths of living hell that I have been in—I would tell him to let me keep it. I’m not at all minimizing the horror of clerical sex abuse, but I’ve also seen how God has made use of it to bring about beauty and goodness. My intense suffering has become precious to me because it has brought me to the very bosom of Christ and given me an opportunity to offer it to God as a prayer of intention for others. Having been to the depths of despair as I have, I now have a peace that no one can take from me. 

—Interview by Erin O’Donnell

Note from Awake: We extend heartfelt thanks to Jennifer LaVoy for sharing her story. We also want to acknowledge that every survivor’s path is different. We honor the journeys of all survivors and are committed to bringing you their stories. In addition to Jenny’s story, we encourage you to read our previous Survivor Stories, including our last story, from Mike Hoffman.

If you have experienced sexual abuse, you can receive support through the National Sexual Abuse Hotline, 800-656-4673, which operates 24 hours a day. In Milwaukee, you can contact one of the Aurora Healing Centers at 414-219-5555. If you seek support from the Catholic Church, you can find the contact information for your diocesan victim assistance coordinator here. Also, Awake is always open to listening to and learning from survivors. If you would like to connect with us, we invite you to email Sara at saralarson@awakemilwaukee.org.