Damned Pervert Priests - and other assorted Holy Scumbags

[Fake Messiah]

RI's list of clergy credibly accused of sexual abuse is 75 names long

Rhode Island lawmakers' vote today on a bill allowing victims of sexual abuse by clergy to sue the Roman Catholic Diocese of Providence will put the spotlight back on the updated list of credibly accused priests in a recent report by Attorney Gen. Peter Neronha.

The House is scheduled to vote on Tuesday, April 7, on the bill to allow the victims to file suits seeking damages from the Diocese – and any other entity that knew and failed to stop sexual abuse they suffered as children. The legislation would also provide the victims with a two-year window to revive claims currently barred by expired time limits.

The total list of credibly accused clergy is 75 names long, with 14 still living. The previously released list by the diocese was 55 names long.

https://www.providencejournal.com/story/...449995007/

[Fake Messiah]

Founder of ‘orgasmic meditation’ company gets 9 years in prison in forced labor conspiracy

The leader of a sex-focused women’s wellness company that promoted “orgasmic meditation” was sentenced Monday to nine years in federal prison for a scheme that a judge said exploited vulnerable women and coerced them into performing sex acts with the company’s clients and investors.

Nicole Daedone, co-founder of OneTaste Inc., was also ordered to forfeit $12 million, and seven victims were awarded roughly $890,000 in restitution, federal prosecutors said.

“What she was doing wasn’t about enlightenment or operating in a different dimension,” the judge said, according to The New York Times. “It was criminal.”

Her lawyers noted that more than 200 people had submitted letters to the court “attesting to her character, her generosity, and her positive influence.”

Among those who penned letters of support was Van Jones, a CNN correspondent and former adviser to President Barack Obama. He described Daedone as “a woman of uncommon wisdom, grace and moral courage” who has “dedicated her life to helping others find healing, empowerment and a deeper sense of human connection.”

Actor Richard Schiff, of the television series “The West Wing,” wrote that Daedone was deserving of the court’s leniency because she has “spent her life trying to bring compassion, awareness, and honesty to a part of human experience that is often shamed or misunderstood.”

Prominent attorney Alan Dershowitz has said he’ll also seek a pardon from President Donald Trump for Daedone and Rachel Cherwitz, the company’s former sales director.

During the roughly one-month trial, prosecutors said the two women ran a yearslong scheme that groomed adherents — many of them victims of sexual trauma — to do their bidding.

They said Daedone and Cherwitz, 45, used economic, sexual and psychological abuse, intimidation and indoctrination to force OneTaste members into sexual acts they found uncomfortable or repulsive, such as having sex with prospective investors or clients.

The two told followers the questionable acts were necessary in order to obtain “freedom” and “enlightenment,” and to demonstrate their commitment to the company’s principles.

Daedone co-founded OneTaste in San Francisco in 2004 as a sort of self-help commune that viewed female orgasms as key to sexual and psychological wellness and interpersonal connection.

A centerpiece was “orgasmic meditation,” or “OM,” which was carried out by men manually stimulating women in a group setting.

The company enjoyed glowing media coverage in the 2010s as a cutting-edge enterprise that prioritized women’s sexual pleasure, and quickly opened outposts from Los Angeles to London.

Daedone sold her stake in the company in 2017 for $12 million — a year before OneTaste’s marketing and labor practices came under scrutiny.

https://sentinelcolorado.com/uncategoriz...onspiracy/

[Fake Messiah]

One more reason for people not to go to church: so that you don't pray to the paintings made by sex offenders and murderers. Just stay home and pray to a wall or a ceiling painted by a regular room painter because there is more chance that he was more moral than the guy who painted paintings in your local church.

Should Churches Remove Art by a Priest Accused of Sexual Abuse?

In more than 210 churches across four continents, thousands of Roman Catholics worship every Sunday beside colorful mosaics designed by a Slovenian theologian and artist, the Rev. Marko Ivan Rupnik.

For decades, Father Rupnik’s distinctive mosaics won legions of admirers — until, about three and a half years ago, allegations emerged that he had sexually, spiritually and psychologically abused nuns. How many victims he is alleged to have abused is unclear, but a spokesman for the Jesuit religious order said it had contacted 20 people about reparations, including some witnesses.

Now, some of those women want his mosaics taken down. One wants them accompanied with labels that note the accusations. Most churches have yet to comply, a few have already covered them up, and some Catholic institutions have removed photographs of them from their websites.

The case has raised huge ethical and financial questions for the churches, while reigniting thorny debates about whether the value of an artwork can transcend the misdeeds of its creator.

Gloria Branciani, one of Father Rupnik’s accusers, said that, at the very least, the mosaics should be marked by a sign “making clear who Rupnik is” and what he had done. “Those mosaics are also symbols of an abuser,” she said in an interview.

To some, Father Rupnik’s work should be treated no differently than that of other problematic artists whose paintings and sculptures have hung for centuries in Roman Catholic churches.

The artist Caravaggio, for example, a murderer often forced to flee from the law, produced one of Pope Francis’ favorite paintings. A crucifix by Benvenuto Cellini, a sculptor accused of theft and murder, hangs in a major monastery in Spain. And the paintings of Filippo Lippi, a priest who had a son and a daughter with a nun, adorn cathedrals and churches across Italy.

Father Rupnik’s rise was halted in 2022 when allegations emerged that he had abused some of the nuns who were in his care when he was the spiritual adviser of a religious community in Slovenia in the 1980s and ’90s. One woman said that he had forced her to participate in a sexual threesome with another nun. Another said that he had groped her while they worked on mosaics in a church. Then it emerged that Father Rupnik had been briefly excommunicated because he had granted religious absolution to a woman with whom he had been intimate, a serious violation of church law.

Marco Tibaldi, a Bologna-based Roman Catholic author and theologian said that Father Rupnik’s work had prompted such dispute “because the author is still alive, because the case is still open, and because he’s still creating works.”

https://www.nytimes.com/2026/04/10/world...saics.html

[Fake Messiah]

A Catholic priest in Charlotte Catholic High School is asking girls if they masturbate and have sex with boys during confessions, to which their parents objected, but which the church didn't see as a problem since the priest is supposed to ask them for their sins.

Indeed, a priest asking kids sexual questions is such a standard practice that it has been portrayed in many movies, like "Amarcord" and "The Basketball Diaries."

[Fake Messiah]

I Was The Face Of Purity At My Christian College. For Years, I Told No One What My Ministry Leader Did To Me.

I was sexually assaulted while attending a Christian college, a small liberal arts school nestled by a South Georgia pond reeking of onions. Purity culture reigned supreme. Holiness was our movement. Virginity was the litmus test for holiness, and I preached that and believed it at the time.

The college crowned me its queen during my freshman year, and “True Love Waits” was quite literally my campaign platform. This beauty-queen motto was engraved on the silver band I wore around my left ring finger — a symbol of my promise to remain pure for God until I offered myself up to my future husband.

This message of purity was ingrained so deeply in my body, heart, language, and dress that I didn’t even have the capacity to recognize the assault when it happened to me.

That recognition took nearly 20 years, a Ph.D., teaching in women’s, gender, and sexuality studies departments, marrying my wife, becoming an international speaker focused on marginalized women’s issues, and publishing 10 books ostensibly about the power of heeding the wisdom of revolutionary women. Even then, I still couldn’t name it until recently. The purity movement tainted me so deeply that it took decades of deconstruction to peel away to the truth of what occurred.

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It happened the summer after my sophomore year in college, just before the Twin Towers fell in New York City. I’d had a sliver of potential skin cancer removed from my shoulder. I went shopping for a shirt. Part of purity culture requires a woman to keep her body covered so that it doesn’t cause “her brothers to stumble.” I wouldn’t want any co-eds lusting after my scrawny shoulder blades. I purchased a yellow halter top with white hibiscus flowers around the waistline. It tied behind the neck, ensuring no cleavage, but exposing my upper back.

When I learned my roommate would be gone the night following my surgery, a campus ministry leader recommended he stay on the apartment sofa to take care of me in case of an emergency. Such fraternizing was out of bounds, and I forbade it. Ms. Purity Movement would never allow boys to stay overnight in her home. However, he pushed by pointing out the myriad things that could go wrong and reminding me that I needed a man to care for me in a situation like this. After he promised to remain on the living room couch, I submitted, as a good Christian girl should. He was a spiritual leader, after all — not a monster. Surely, I could trust him.

In the middle of the night, I felt intense pressure on my shoulder and awoke to find the movement builder no longer on the sofa, but on top of me, his hands up my yellow halter top. Through a narcotic-induced haze, I tried to push him off me as one of the stitches on my shoulder blade split.

I began to cry, not because of what he was doing to me, but because of what it would mean. I was afraid someone might look through the window and see him in my bed. I feared I might be rendered impure, and I was concerned that my impropriety would damage the movement beyond repair.

He jumped off the bed and ran out of the room as though nothing had happened. I lay there, disoriented, wondering how I’d let this happen, as blood trickled from my shoulder. I dropped to my knees and begged God for forgiveness. Forgiveness for allowing a boy to stay overnight in my apartment. Forgiveness for the yellow halter top. Forgiveness for my sins of the flesh.

The ministerial man came back into my room a few minutes later and forced me to pray with him. He assured me that God forgave him, and so should I. He told me never to tell anyone because it would risk harming the movement we were both dedicated to building. Awash in guilt and shame, I asked him to leave, took more painkillers, and stumbled back to bed.

As a 19-year-old devoted to the movement, I couldn’t risk being seen as a wanton woman — sinful enough to create a situation where a man came into my bed — so I told absolutely no one. Fear is a constant companion for women in the purity movement, and my fear stilled my voice so that friends, pastors, roommates, professors, and campus counselors would never know that a campus ministry leader sexually assaulted me.

I blamed myself. I believed that as a leader in the evangelical purity movement, I should have known better, done better. I should have been stronger. Instead, I had caused my brother to stumble. To lust. It was all my fault.

I now know that, of course, I had done nothing wrong that night in my bedroom. What that man did to me was not my fault. He took something from me that I had not offered him, and no matter what the movement said, it was wrong. However, it took years to fully grasp and finally believe that because of how willing — gleefully so it often seems — Christian culture is to distrust, discredit and blame women.

So, when Dolores Huerta broke her silence — decades later, after building a movement alongside a man the world reveres — I was not surprised. I used to think monsters were easy to recognize. Now I know they can look like the people we trust most — the ones who pray with us, lead us, and tell us who we’re supposed to be. The ones we’re taught will never harm us — the ones we build movements around and are never permitted to question.

https://uk.style.yahoo.com/face-purity-c...03537.html

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