Los Angeles — At Dolores Mission Church in Boyle Heights, there was no shrinking from the news reverberating through the pews. The Rev. Scott Santarosa spent time usually reserved for the homily talking instead about what he called “really painful stuff.”
After Mass, over menudo and pan dulce, parishioners tried to make sense of the events that cascaded at the end of last week. First, the release of thousands of documents detailing decades of sexual abuse and cover-ups, then the current archbishop reprimanding his predecessor, Cardinal Roger M. Mahony, who responded with an angry missive of his own.
Known for his outspoken views on immigrants’ rights, Cardinal Mahony was seen as a tireless ally here among Latinos, who make up about 70 percent of the four million Catholics in the country’s largest archdiocese. He could celebrate Mass in flawless Spanish, and was at times affectionately referred to as “Rogelio.”
But with the release of documents that make it increasingly clear that Cardinal Mahony shielded priests accused of child abuse from investigations by law enforcement officials, his legacy as a champion of immigrants may soon be overshadowed.
Conversations with dozens of parishioners at three largely Spanish-speaking churches here illustrate how divided the faithful still are over the abuse and the way church officials have handled the scandal. There is internal conflict even among the parishioners themselves: Is Cardinal Mahony the hero they once thought, or is he someone who deserves to be punished? Is abuse a thing of the past, or does the church need to make even more radical changes? And, many added with a visible wince, what will happen to the victims?
Rafael Flores, 64, recalled seeing pictures of Cardinal Mahony marching for immigrants’ rights and appearing on Spanish television news countless times. For years, he said, it appeared that Cardinal Mahony was markedly different from others in power, a man who was willing to be with ordinary people.
“He did so many things right, but this is the thing that is most difficult and the most important, and he didn’t do the right thing,” Mr. Flores said.
Like many others, Mr. Flores said he believed that Archbishop José H. Gomez did the right thing in removing Cardinal Mahony from public duties. If nothing else, Mr. Flores said, it shows the outside world that the church is taking action, even if belatedly.
For Concepcion Guizarnotegui, 43, of Boyle Heights, the details in some way do not matter. That Cardinal Mahony did not do more is difficult to understand. But, she tells herself, perhaps that was the best he knew to do at the time.
“People try to do what they believe is right — how can I not think he did the same thing?” she said. Still, even as she spoke, she stopped to consider the issue. “He was supposed to be the one taking care of everybody, of the city’s children, and he did not do that. So how can he be trusted?”
For some, the legacies Cardinal Mahony leaves behind can coexist.
“As a leader, he failed, but that doesn’t mean he was all bad,” said Angelica Morales, 50, who was attending an early morning Mass at St. Thomas the Apostle. “A person isn’t entirely bad or entirely good.”
Many Catholics praised Archbishop Gomez, who wrote a letter criticizing Cardinal Mahony and relieving him of any administrative or public duties. Archdiocese officials instructed that the letter be read at every Mass this past weekend.
In some circles, there was a pervasive sense that Cardinal Mahony and church officials were victims themselves.
After the Rev. Marc Rougeau read the letter from Archbishop Gomez at the end of Mass at St. Mary’s Church in Boyle Heights, he added that “the media these days is having a feast of all the details and embellishments and adding on to things.”
After the service, several parishioners interviewed declined to give their names. They defended the church and criticized the accusers and their parents.
In many ways, the soul-searching almost felt familiar, as reports of sexual abuse have steadily trickled out here and in other cities over the year. But even as Father Santarosa spoke of the “same pain we have lived with as we have come to know about the abuses,” he warned that there would be “much more detail” about specific cases in the coming days.
“This is really painful stuff — it’s hard to read, hard to understand how it could happen and wasn’t reported,” Father Santarosa said before reading the letter from Archbishop Gomez during one Mass, offering the same sentiments he would repeat at each of the four other Sunday Masses.
“Almost every sector did not respond appropriately, including families,” he said. “The church is guilty for that as well — there is no other way to say it.”
Giovanni Fascio, 49, and his wife, Sofia, 46, have attended Mass weekly for most of their lives and consider their faith almost unshakable. There was almost a sense of relief, they said, with the records released.
“Finally, we can all know what went on,” Mr. Fascio said.
But Ms. Fascio said she could not help but think that the latest revelations were another sign of hypocrisy or double standards by church officials.
“People get divorced, and they are not allowed to receive communion, but they covered up crimes and are still allowed to celebrate Mass,” she said. “It’s really hard not to feel very let down by that.”