95 Theses of Survivors

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In the tradition of Martin Luther’s 95 Theses, this manifesto seeks to address the grave and ongoing issues of clergy sexual abuse within the Catholic Church, demanding justice, reform, and the dismantling of systems that have enabled abuse and perpetuated harm. The 95 Theses of Survivors present the perspective of survivors, our struggles, and our demands for change. They bear witness to the wounds we carry—and the truths we will no longer allow the Church to bury.

Today, on the eve of the Conclave, we present The 95 Theses of Survivors to the Dicastery for the Doctrine of the Faith (DDF)—a building long synonymous with control, suppression, and theological policing. Originally established as the Roman Inquisition, it did not serve justice; it enforced conformity. For centuries, it was the Vatican’s central engine of persecution, designed to investigate, condemn, and erase anyone whose beliefs, identities, or bodies disrupted the status quo or challenged the Church’s authority. It was never neutral. It was a place where truth was not sought but silenced, where power cloaked itself in piety, and where the Church decided who was worthy of dignity—and who was not. The legacy of exclusion it forged still endures, shaping the present day.

It was through the authority housed within these walls that scientists like Galileo were condemned for speaking truths that defied doctrine. Mystics—especially women—were silenced for claiming spiritual agency. Jews, Muslims, and Indigenous peoples were forced to recant their faiths or face violence, with some burned at the stake for refusing. Queer and gender-nonconforming people were denounced as sinful, disordered, or demonized, and subjected to cruel punishment. Theologians who dared to imagine liberation, feminism, or justice within the Church were censored, excommunicated, or erased from memory. This building is not merely a symbol of theological inquiry; it is a monument to centuries of persecution in the name of power.

Just as Martin Luther posted his 95 Theses to the door of the Wittenberg church in 1517 to protest the selling of indulgences—where the faithful were promised salvation in exchange for money—this act confronts a Church still clinging to power at the expense of its people. Today, it is not indulgences but the cost of silence and cover-up that has bankrupted dioceses and devastated communities. Parishioners—faithful, innocent people—are losing their churches for crimes they did not commit. Once again, it is the faithful who bear the weight of institutional sin. Through Luther’s defiance, a reformation was sparked, and this act echoes that spirit, demanding accountability, justice, and a reimagining of the Church’s role in the world. It is a call to break the chains of complicity, confront the structures of power that continue to oppress, and restore dignity to those who have been silenced for too long.

These Theses stand as a powerful testament to the voices of survivors from across the globe—those who have been silenced, threatened, disbelieved, or buried under layers of legal non-disclosure agreements designed to erase their truths. We have endured the betrayal of priests who remain in our communities, still positioned on the altar, still wielding power and trust. Worse still, these predators have been systematically shuffled from one parish to another, their abuse hidden behind a veil of secrecy, leaving untold harm in their wake. This relentless abuse of authority is not just a personal wound but a collective scar, one that stretches across generations. These Theses are further strengthened by those who, like me—a queer, trans survivor of clergy abuse and conversion therapy—have found the strength to speak out, reclaiming our stories, our dignity, and our right to be heard.

The 95 Theses of Survivors

A Public Witness to the Sins of the Church
Posted at the Gates of Power in the Spirit of Truth and Justice.

When Jesus said, “Repent,” he called for the transformation of lives, not the concealment of crimes.
The call to repentance is for the abuser and the institution—not the survivor.
True repentance must bear fruit in justice, not just words or apologies.
No priest, bishop, or pope can absolve themselves of crimes against the vulnerable.
The Church has no authority to forgive what it has failed to acknowledge or repair.
Survivors are not sinners for speaking out—they are prophets.
Silence imposed by the Church through fear, shame, or legal threats is spiritual violence.
Inner healing is sacred, but institutional denial hinders it.
Survivors in crisis deserve mercy and care—not barriers, bureaucracy, or spiritual threats.
The Holy Spirit is not confined to the decrees of clerics but speaks through the wounded.
It is heresy to impose the burden of shame on survivors while protecting perpetrators.
Silence is not neutrality—it is endorsement.
Not every soul seeks liberation under the terms of the institution that harmed them.
Broken systems cannot offer wholeness.
Fear and spiritual terror inflicted by abuse are already hell enough.
Contrition without reform is hollow theology.
Many survivors live in a purgatory of being neither believed nor heard.
The Church’s purgatory is nothing compared to the torment of living with unresolved trauma.
Survivors grow in love, strength, and courage—even when the Church does not recognize their sanctity.
Christ exposed his nail wounds—healing starts by facing the harm head-on.
Papal statements of remorse mean little without institutional change.
To say that “all has been forgiven” without restitution is to deny survivors their truth.
Those who preach forgiveness without justice deceive both survivors and the faithful.
The Church cannot wash away sin if it refuses to clean its own house.
Grace is not bought, and healing is not found in denial.
Survivors should lead the way in reform.
Repentance must include institutional accountability, not just personal confession.
Institutional absolution is worthless without deep, radical change.
It is blasphemy to sell salvation while covering up the rape of children.
Those who profit from silence are complicit in ongoing abuse.
No bishop, cardinal, or pope should be trusted more than the survivor who risks everything to speak.
The faithful must be warned of wolves in shepherds’ clothing.
The treasure of the Church is not gold—it is the stories of the wounded who survived.
Let the Church repent with ashes, not celebrations.
God’s mercy is infinite, but the Church’s record of justice is not.
The Spirit of God moves among the abused, not above them.
Indulgences for sin do not heal what silence destroys.
Only God grants forgiveness—institutions cannot bypass justice with ritual or decree.
Families should not suffer while institutions hoard wealth in the name of God.
The true mission of the Church is to safeguard the vulnerable, not to exploit them for gain.
No doctrine can shield a predator from accountability.
No institution can sanctify what it has corrupted.
Let the riches of the Vatican be turned into shelters, therapy funds, and legal aid.
The Church’s power is diminished every time it denies the truth.
The survivor’s voice is sacred, not scandalous.
Survivors must not be asked to reconcile with unrepentant abusers.
Forgiveness is not required to access healing or holiness.
The Church is not the mediator between God and the wounded—it is the offender.
The faithful must demand transparency over loyalty.
The Church does not suffer persecution when it is held accountable.
The torment of survivors is not metaphorical—it is real and long-lasting.
Priests who preach forgiveness without justice preach death.
Survivors are not lost sheep—they are the shepherds of truth.
It is better to believe a survivor than to disbelieve and perpetuate harm.
Spiritual bypassing is not healing—it is complicity.
The Church’s greatest sin lies in the cover-up of abuse.
Obedience to corrupt authority is not a virtue.
Clergy must protect the flock, not prey upon it.
We must measure holiness not by titles, but by truth.
Bishops who obstruct justice must be removed, not revered.
The laity have a sacred duty to hold clergy accountable.
Seminaries must teach ethics, not entitlement.
Theology must make room for survivors’ outrage, not suppress it.
The gospel is not “good news” to the abused until justice is done.
The pope must speak more often with survivors than with advisors.
The confessional has too often been a hiding place for predators.
Survivors have been sacrificial offerings on the altar of institutional survival.
Children are not to be entrusted to any institution that prioritizes secrecy over safety.
When the Church protects its name above the wounded, it denies Christ.
Confession without restitution is spiritual manipulation.
Prayer without action is meaningless.
When survivors rise, the Church must listen on its knees.
God is not found in Rome if Rome refuses the truth.
The Church has lost its moral authority until it follows survivors’ lead.
Canon law must never override human dignity.
Jesus overturned tables in the temple—so must we.
Christ weeps with the abused, not the powerful.
The Church must excommunicate those who enable abuse—not those who name it.
True holiness is found in the courage to speak.
A survivor’s story is scripture written in scars.
The Church has more to learn from survivors than it must teach them.
Wounds become witness, and witness becomes revolution.
Survivors do not leave the Church; the Church leaves them.
“Healing” without justice is another form of abuse.
Those who name the Church’s crimes are not divisive—they are divine truth-tellers.
The Church must repent in public what it concealed in private.
No survivor should have to pay for therapy—the cost of abuse has taken lives.
No non-disclosure agreement should bind what the Spirit calls to speak.
The faithful should not be forced to pay for the sins of the fathers.
Holiness lies in accountability, not hierarchy.
Abuse in the name of God is the deepest blasphemy.
Participation in corrupt systems must always be a matter of conscience—not compulsion.
When survivors speak, the Church must hold space for their truths.
The future of faith depends on the reckoning of the past.
Until survivors are believed, supported, and compensated, the Church remains unrepentant.