At Lourdes, one of Catholicism's most sacred sites, Pope Leo XIV stood before 150,000 faithful and spoke of wounds the Church itself had opened — without naming them, yet unmistakably invoking seven decades of sexual abuse suffered by over 330,000 children in France alone. He met privately with seven survivors, listened to their accounts, and blessed what they carried with them. The visit was both a gesture of contrition and a mirror held up to an institution still navigating the distance between acknowledgment and accountability.
Pope Leo meets abuse survivors in France, calls for church healing
Over 330,000 children sexually abused by Catholic clergy in France over seven decades; 2,000 victims currently seeking reparations.
What is legal is not necessarily moral.
Mark
Why does it matter that the pope met with survivors at Lourdes specifically, rather than somewhere else?
Mimi
Lourdes is where Catholics go when they're seeking healing—it's the most sacred healing site in the church. So the symbolism is deliberate. The pope is saying the church itself needs healing, and he's doing it at the place where millions come believing in miraculous restoration.
Luke
But did he actually name the abuse? The reporting says he called for healing from "deep wounds" without directly referencing the scandals.
Mimi
Right. He spoke in general terms about the church's "painful errors" and "infidelities." Some would say that's appropriate solemnity; others would say it's evasion.
Mark
What did the survivors who met him actually say afterward?
Mimi
Five of the seven held a press conference. They said he listened, knew their cases, and acknowledged more work was needed. One man, Jean-Marie Delbos, said it was extraordinary—the pope even blessed a photo of his grandmother.
Luke
But there's a catch, isn't there?
Mimi
Yes. An open letter from other survivors, published the day Leo arrived, said the seven he was meeting were "carefully selected" by the church, not chosen by survivors' groups. They argued it wasn't enough to ask for forgiveness—the church needs to take responsibility.
Mark
How big is this problem in France specifically?
Mimi
A 2021 independent inquiry found 330,000 children were sexually abused by Catholic clergy over seven decades. Right now, about 2,000 people are seeking reparations.
Luke
And the church is paying?
Mimi
The bishops' conference agreed to provide compensation after that report came out. But the inquiry also found the abuse was covered up "in a systemic way"—it wasn't accidents or isolated bad actors.
Mark
What else happened during the visit?
Mimi
The pope also condemned medically assisted dying as immoral "false compassion," which France just legalized last month. He said what's legal isn't necessarily moral.
Luke
So he used the visit to make a broader statement about Catholic teaching, not just to address the abuse crisis.
Mimi
Exactly. The visit was about multiple moral questions, though the abuse crisis was clearly the central one.
The Pulse
- A papal visit to a shrine of healing becomes a reckoning when the institution seeking forgiveness is also the one that caused the harm.
- Seven survivors were granted a private audience with the pope — but critics note they were selected by the Church, not by survivors' organizations, raising questions about who gets to represent the wounded.
- An open letter published in Libération on the day of Leo's arrival drew a sharp line: forgiving a crime is not the same as being held responsible for one.
- The boarded-up mosaics of accused abuser Marko Rupnik at the very shrine Leo visited made the contradiction physical — beauty and harm created by the same hands, now hidden from those seeking solace.
- With 2,000 victims actively seeking reparations and a landmark abuse trial underway at the Vatican, the visit lands not as a conclusion but as a pressure point in an unresolved crisis.
At Lourdes, one of Catholicism's most sacred sites, Pope Leo XIV stood before 150,000 faithful and spoke of wounds the Church itself had opened — without naming them, yet unmistakably invoking seven decades of sexual abuse suffered by over 330,000 children in France alone. He met privately with seven survivors, listened to their accounts, and blessed what they carried with them. The visit was both a gesture of contrition and a mirror held up to an institution still navigating the distance between acknowledgment and accountability.
On a Sunday morning in late September, Pope Leo XIV addressed roughly 150,000 people gathered near Lourdes, speaking of wounds running through the Catholic Church without naming them directly. The sexual abuse of at least 330,000 children across seven decades in France alone hung over every word. He called on the Church to place itself "under the Lord's purifying gaze" — a phrase that carried unmistakable weight at one of Catholicism's most sacred sites.
Later that day, Leo met privately with seven survivors of abuse by French clergy. Jean-Marie Delbos, one of those present, said he had never imagined such a moment possible. The pope blessed a photograph of his grandmother that Delbos had brought with him. The survivors confirmed Leo had listened closely and acknowledged that more work remained.
Yet the visit was shadowed by tension. On the day Leo arrived in Paris, a group of survivors published an open letter in Libération warning that the seven chosen for the private meeting had been selected by the Church itself, not by survivors' organizations. "One does not ask for forgiveness for a crime," they wrote. "One is responsible for a crime." The letter named what a symbolic gesture, however sincere, cannot resolve on its own.
The physical landscape of the visit made the contradictions visible. Mosaics created by Marko Rupnik — a celebrated Church artist currently on trial at the Vatican on accusations of abuse spanning three decades — had been boarded up by the local bishop before Leo's arrival, so that survivors seeking healing at the shrine would not be confronted with his work.
Among those who met the pope was a former student of Notre-Dame de Bétharram, a nearby boarding school believed to be the site of the largest single-institution abuse scandal in French history. France's 2021 independent inquiry had found the broader crisis was concealed through a deliberate and systemic suppression. Last week, approximately 2,000 people who reported abuse by clergy formally sought reparations — a process the bishops' conference agreed to after that same inquiry documented the scale of harm.
Leo also used his homily to address France's recent legislation permitting medically assisted dying, calling it "false compassion" and stating that what is legal is not necessarily moral. It was his first papal visit to France in 18 years — and Lourdes, which draws three million pilgrims annually, received him with reverence. But the deeper question the visit posed was whether the Church's highest authority standing at a place of healing could begin to close the distance between acknowledgment and justice.
Pope Leo XIV stood before a crowd of roughly 150,000 people in an open field near Lourdes on a Sunday morning in late September, speaking about wounds that run through the Catholic Church itself. He did not name them directly—the sexual abuse of at least 330,000 children across seven decades in France alone—but his words were unmistakable. The church must place itself "under the Lord's purifying gaze," he told the faithful gathered at one of Catholicism's most sacred sites, a place where millions come each year seeking healing from the spring waters that the church officially recognized as miraculous in 1858.
Later that same day, Leo met privately with seven survivors of abuse by French clergy. The meeting lasted long enough for the survivors to feel heard. Jean-Marie Delbos, one of the seven who spoke publicly afterward, said he had never imagined such a moment would come. The pope blessed a photograph of his grandmother that Delbos carried with him. "It was extraordinary," Delbos said. The other survivors confirmed that Leo had listened, that he knew the details of their cases, and that he acknowledged more work remained to be done.
Yet the visit carried an undeniable tension. On the day Leo arrived in Paris, a group of abuse survivors published an open letter in Libération expressing skepticism. They noted that the seven survivors meeting with the pope had been "carefully selected" by the church itself, not chosen by survivors' organizations. "You will merely ask us for forgiveness," they wrote. "This is not enough. One does not ask for forgiveness for a crime; one is responsible for a crime." The letter captured a deeper frustration: that a papal visit, however symbolically important, could not substitute for systemic accountability or meaningful reparations.
The backdrop to Leo's visit made the stakes visible. Marko Rupnik, one of the Catholic Church's most celebrated mosaic artists, is currently on trial in a Vatican court. More than two dozen women have accused him of psychological, spiritual, and sexual abuse spanning three decades, including during the creation of his artworks. When Leo arrived at Lourdes in his white popemobile on Saturday night, he passed mosaics created by Rupnik that had been boarded up by the local bishop—a decision made so that abuse survivors seeking solace at the shrine would not be forced to confront the work of an accused predator.
Among the seven survivors who met the pope was a former student of Notre-Dame de Bétharram, a Catholic boarding school nearby. Former pupils of that institution have described experiences of violence, rape, and sexual assault in what is believed to be the largest child sexual abuse scandal at a single school in French history. The 2021 independent inquiry that documented the broader crisis found that crimes were concealed through what it called a deliberate "veil of silence"—a systemic suppression rather than isolated failures.
The numbers underlying this visit are staggering. France's Independent National Authority for Recognition and Reparation announced last week that approximately 2,000 people who reported abuse by clergy or other church representatives are now seeking compensation. The Catholic bishops' conference in France agreed to provide reparations after the 2021 inquiry estimated that 330,000 children had been sexually abused over seven decades. That same inquiry concluded the abuse was covered up in a "systemic way."
During his homily, Leo also addressed another moral question facing France. The country formally adopted legislation last month permitting medically assisted dying for incurably ill adults, making it one of a small group of nations—Belgium, the Netherlands, Switzerland, and Canada among them—with such laws. Leo called the practice immoral "false compassion." He stated plainly: "It is impossible to regard causing death as something normal. What is legal is not necessarily moral." The comment underscored the church's teaching that human life must be defended from conception until natural death.
This was Leo's first papal visit to France in 18 years. The visit to Lourdes, which draws 3 million pilgrims annually, had transformed the town's economy overnight—hotel rooms that normally cost a fraction of that price were being advertised for more than €2,000 per night. The crowds that lined the streets to see Leo pass in his popemobile were enthusiastic and reverent. Yet the visit also served as a reckoning, a moment when the church's highest authority stood at a place of pilgrimage and healing to acknowledge that the institution itself had inflicted deep and lasting harm.
Notable Quotes
In order to heal the deep wounds, infidelities and painful errors that have occurred within the church, we must humbly place ourselves under the Lord's purifying gaze.— Pope Leo XIV, addressing the crowd at Lourdes
You will merely ask us for forgiveness. This is not enough. One does not ask for forgiveness for a crime; one is responsible for a crime.— Open letter from abuse survivors published in Libération
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