PADERBORN (GERMANY)
Substack [San Francisco, CA]
September 5, 2026
By The Rev Leon
Anselm Grün and the pathology of therapeutic rehabilitation
The architecture of institutional cover-ups within the Church has long relied on a specific and devastating weapon: the language of therapeutic rehabilitation. For decades, when a cleric confessed to the devastation of sexual abuse, the institutional reflex was not the swift administration of justice, but a discreet transfer to a specialised facility. The goal was too often not the absolute protection of the vulnerable, but the restoration of the system’s human capital.
The recent allegations emerging from the Independent Commission in the Archdiocese of Paderborn regarding Father Anselm Grün OSB expose the dark heart of this practice. Grün is not merely another cog in the ecclesiastical machine. He is a global brand – a Benedictine monk whose prolific writings on inner healing, spiritual accompaniment and psychological wholeness have made him an icon of modern Christian spirituality, read far beyond the boundaries of the Roman Catholic Church. Yet the commission’s report alleges that Grün played a role in the 1992 decision to return a confessed abuser to parish ministry, where the priest remained in pastoral service until 2009.
Grün has flatly denied the accusation, stating that he has no memory of the case and ruling out any misconduct or recommendation on his part. But the institutional reality remains gravely troubling. As a co-founder and long-standing spiritual director of the Recollectio-Haus in Münsterschwarzach – a centre where clergy and religious in psychological and spiritual crisis could receive psychotherapy and spiritual guidance – Grün stood at the intersection of theology, therapy and ecclesiastical power.
None of this establishes Grün’s personal culpability; the commission’s allegation remains contested, and Grün has denied it. But the case nevertheless raises a question that reaches far beyond one monk, one institution or one denomination.
For a non-Catholic Christian readership, it is tempting to view this as a uniquely Roman pathology, a symptom of mandatory celibacy and rigid hierarchy. This would be a profound error in discernment. The commodification of grace and the weaponisation of therapy to shield abusers are ecumenical sins. What the Grün case illuminates is a theological crisis that can afflict the wider Church: the substitution of genuine repentance (metanoia) with psychological management.
When institutions such as the Recollectio-Haus became places where troubled clergy could be assessed, treated and prepared for a return to pastoral life, they risked embodying a flawed theology of restoration. Therapy could become a secular surrogate for the confessional – but without the messy, public demands of justice. A priest or minister confessed, underwent psychological evaluation and treatment, and could emerge with the impression that he had been sufficiently restored to resume his ministry. The danger was that bishops and overseers could then feel ethically insulated enough to return him to the vineyard.
This is grace rendered cheap, masquerading as clinical wisdom. It treats the abuser’s spiritual and psychological rehabilitation as a primary concern, while the victim’s shattered reality is relegated to an ancillary afterthought. The Gospel demands a justice that vindicates the oppressed; the therapeutic-institutional alliance seeks a harmony that can instead protect the status quo.
Christian forgiveness, however, is not the suspension of judgement. Forgiveness does not abolish truth, accountability or the demands of justice. To forgive an offender is not automatically to restore him to a position in which he can exercise authority over others. Repentance without accountability is not metanoia; rehabilitation without safeguards is not restoration.
The supreme irony is that much of Grün’s literary reputation rests on his integration of modern psychology, including Jungian thought, with Christian spirituality and the search for inner healing. His readers look to him for tools with which to confront their deepest wounds. Yet if the allegations concerning his role in this case are substantiated, the episode raises a disturbing question about what happens when therapeutic insight is brought into an institution whose overriding concern is the preservation of its own ministry.
When psychology is used to explain away predatory behaviour rather than expose it, it ceases to be a tool for healing and becomes an instrument of complicity.
If the allegations hold true, Grün’s historical actions would demonstrate how even the most enlightened spiritual masters can become blind instruments of institutional survival. Clericalism is a shape-shifter. It can wear the traditional robes of total authority, or it can wear the soft, empathetic cardigan of the therapist. In both cases, the result is identical: the reputation of the ministry is prioritised over the safety of the flock.
Vigiliæ must look at this scandal not with denominational smugness, but with sober realisation. Whenever the Church confuses the therapeutic rehabilitation of the perpetrator with the radical demands of justice for the victim, it risks ceasing to be the Body of Christ and becoming instead an institution organised around its own preservation.