TTSOML #37: Meeting With The Abbot Nathan Zodrow

I finally made the call to Abbot Nathan Zodrow. Over the telephone, Zodrow accused ME of being the problem, saying things like, "Why were you at our Abbey?" and "Why were you trying to seduce a monk?" I told him I hadn't done anything wrong, and that when I was in doubt, I didn't attempt to conceal what was going on, I sought the advice of a trusted friend and priest, Fr. Joachim. How could anyone say I tried to "seduce" Br. Ansgar?

The Abbot arranged a meeting. I showed up and we met in the building where the monks are housed, but on the administrative floor, with the offices. I was taken into a sitting room and directed to a chair. The Human Resource person for the Abbey, Lynne Morris, (I hope no relation to the Morris's in Wenatchee who are in law enforcement and CPS), sat in one chair with a pen and paper, and the Abbot Nathan Zodrow sat in the other chair.

I told them what had happened, and that I didn't know if it was appropriate or not but I had a bad feeling about it. I was asked if he touched me sexually and I said no, truthfully. Then, as I was telling them about Br. Ansgar's attempt to take me down the road on a walk, I stopped mid-sentence and said, "...Is there a little chapel out there (I pointed) in the woods?" The Abbot and Human Resource person had been listening on auto-pilot until I said this and then they both looked up. Lynne looked at the Abbot nervously. I then noticed the Abbot had a large bead of sweat at the top of his brow, which he brushed away. He was nervous too, and why? unless something was wrong? They wouldn't speak and so I broke the silence, adding, "...I just wondered because Br. Ansgar said he was taking me to see this "exquisite little chapel in the woods" but we never got there." No one would answer me and they changed the topic.

At some point, I began to cry and the Abbot cut me off harshly, saying, "You are not my concern. My concern is for my monks, and I need to know what is happening with them."

He said some other things, basically, that I was not his responsibility in any way, and that he only allowed the meeting so he could find out how his monks were doing and how he could meet THEIR needs.

I had thought an Abbot, or supervisors, should care about what is happening further than that. If their clergy is acting inappropriately, didn't they have a responsibility not just to their monks, but the people that their monks are involved with? I was being directly counseled by two of his clergy, and besides that, I found out later, I COULD legally be considered his "responsibility" because I had been a "volunteer" for his library, and according to most legal cases, a volunteer is accorded the same rights as an employee. They even had my name and address on their volunteer sheet and it was common knowledge I had been helping out there for almost a year.

But I didn't know about this at first, about the rights of a "volunteer" and other legal definitions. All I knew, is that I had just told an Abbot about a matter, and asked for their help or advice, hoping this didn't happen to others, and that with intervention, perhaps it wouldn't happen again.

After this meeting with the Abbot, things went from bad to worse.

As they went from bad to worse, in the middle of the harassment and provocation that happened next, I felt keenly that an intuitive force, or that the Holy Spirit, or God Himself, was directing me in my discoveries. I never should have found out what was out in the woods where the "chapel" was supposed to be. I never should have found out a lot of things, but I did. And despite how horrible and cruel some were, I knew God was on my side, in that I didn't lie about anyone, make false accusations, exaggerate or distort, or try to do anything harmful to another person.

After years of harassment by the Abbey attorneys, I could acknowlege I had some mild PTSD. But otherwise, I was never "unstable" or ill. It took years besides, for them to break me down enough, and even then, it wasn't enough for them. They had to take it further.