Sadness, Anger, Embarrassment, and Resolve. Where Do We Go From Here?
When I first read the Final Order in the trial of Bishop Stewart Ruch, I had to stop and reread it. Then I read it again.
I honestly could not believe what I was seeing.
This is not a short document. It is long. Dense. Legal. At times, bruising. I am no lawyer, but I have been around the Church long enough to know when a court is simply issuing a verdict and when it is doing something more.
This was the latter.
I expected a careful ruling. I did not expect the Court to address the matter so decisively. And I certainly did not expect it to turn, with such force and clarity, and address the Province and the leadership that ran this process.
The actual charges were dealt with fairly early. What followed reads less like a verdict and more like an autopsy. A careful, sometimes painful account of how a church loses its footing when order gives way to pressure. And pressure gives way to chaos.
And chaos always hurts people.
My First Reaction
My first reaction was anger. Real anger.
Why were people not ready for prime time handling something this serious? Not because they were evil, but because the moment required steadiness, clarity, and discipline that our system and our people could not supply.
The stakes were enormous.
- Real victims needed justice, care, and truth. To offer anything less would be pastoral malpractice.
- A man’s ministry and vocation were hanging in the balance, too. His reputation and the effectiveness of a life of service were called into question.
- And the Church itself, our common life, was being watched closely.
I read the statement released by ACNAtoo, an advocacy group formed for moments like this, and I found myself nodding in agreement. I tried to read the Final Report through their eyes, and I had many questions and concerns. My thinking, going into the marathon reading session to pore over all of its 71 pages, was something like this:
- If we cannot respond clearly and competently to allegations of abuse…
- If we cannot draft and follow canons that reflect a real moral and juridical order…
- If we do not have leaders who understand discipline, process, and restraint…
- Then, where exactly are we headed?
For a moment, I shared their bleakness.
Fumbles and Blunders
But as I stayed with the Final Order, something else crept in. Not more anger. Embarrassment. Sorrow. Sadness.
I know many of the people involved. They are not monsters. They are not cartoon villains. They are colleagues. (Most are not mentioned by name.) Some are friends, which makes the record laid out by the Court all the more painful.
The process was mishandled. Plainly. The ball was fumbled. And fumbling mattered.
I have led a congregation for more than three decades. Long enough to know that leadership is rarely clean and never easy. I have made my share of blunders. Some small. Some that kept me up at night. I know how hard it is not to fumble when decisions stack up, pressure mounts, and you are trying to serve many people at once.
And I also know, painfully, how hard it is on people when you do fumble, even when your intentions are good, especially when the stakes are high.
Over time, one lesson has been driven home again and again: Bad administration is not a harmless failure. It hurts people. It hurts the very people you are trying to serve.
And the larger the ministry, the harder it becomes to avoid missteps, and the wider the damage when they occur. What might be a private mistake in a small setting becomes a public wound in a larger one.
That reality is not a moral indictment. It is a sober fact, which is precisely why systems, discipline, and clarity matter so much. Not because leaders are bad, but because leaders are human.
Not a New lesson.
The early Church learned this lesson almost immediately. Acts tells the story. The widows were being overlooked in the daily distribution of bread. Not because of bad theology. Because of bad administration. And the result was injustice. People were hurt.
The apostles did not scold the complainers.
They did not spiritualize the problem.
They fixed the system.
They appointed capable people.
They brought order so that ministry and mercy could actually reach the people who needed it.
Bad administration hurts people.
Let me say this clearly. When abuse is involved, our first concern must be for the vulnerable and for survivors. Full stop. And we should thank advocacy groups for reminding the Church, again and again, of the instinct inherent in human nature and its institutions for self-preservation. It seeks to protect itself. That instinct is real. And it is dangerous.
We have to listen closely to what the problem is and what harm has been caused. What are they surviving? Who is thought to be responsible? And can we ask questions about their actions while still protecting the presumption of innocence?
But here is the hard question, the one we must be able to ask without fear. Can we do both?
Can we listen carefully, patiently, humbly to those who have been hurt, and also insist on the ancient principle of innocence until proven guilty? Not to shield the powerful, but to protect the integrity of the whole system, including future victims and those who are wrongly accused.
What Was The Problem?
I am no lawyer. But the Final Order itself highlights serious procedural failures and administrative breakdowns. These are not my words. They are the Court’s. I have added only the emphasis.
But according to the Final Order:
Too Many Cooks in the Kitchen
Page 9
“When the Province assumed control of the GRS investigation in late 2021, it set off a proliferation of overlapping and, at times, inconsistent inquiries. These inquiries increasingly shifted focus away from the original allegations toward broader questions of diocesan leadership, governance, and culture. The result, as demonstrated at trial, was a fragmented and often confusing investigatory landscape that produced institutional fatigue and mistrust without substantive findings of episcopal wrongdoing.”
This is the Court’s foundational diagnosis. Too many investigations. No coordination. Confusion.
Evidence Was Withheld
Page 10
“The trial testimony also established that the GRS Transition Report was withheld from Bishop Ruch after the Province took control; that elements of GRS’s work were later invoked against him despite his being denied access to the full report; and that the HB and Telios reports, though completed under provincial oversight, were not shared transparently with diocesan leadership.”
This is where administrative failure becomes morally serious.
No Firsthand Knowledge
Page 29
The Court found credible and compelling the testimony that these episcopal signatories lacked firsthand knowledge of the factual basis for the charges, did not fully appreciate the canonical gravity or consequences of endorsing a Presentment, and relied almost entirely on summaries or representations provided to them rather than on any independent examination of underlying evidence.
This shows how deeply compromised the decision-making became. Bishops were asked to sign something grave without knowing what they were actually signing.
Fear of Online Rumor Mill
Page 17
“By the end of 2023, the confluence of escalating rumors, institutional uncertainty, flawed investigative processes, and public pressure had produced two Presentments entirely unsupported by evidence. The Court concludes that the narrative foundation of both Presentments rested on misinterpretation, impression, assumption, and procedural error—not on facts that could satisfy the canonical burden of proof.”
Read the last line again.
Later, when some of those same bishops began to voice serious misgivings about the strength and foundations of the charges, those concerns were briefly acknowledged in writing and then withdrawn after internal deliberations.
I know these men. Many of them. I have served alongside them. I have heard them preach. I know their ministries, and I respect them.
And yet, as I read the report—ominously titled The Final Order—I almost did not recognize the leadership being described.
Read it all in The Anglican