c. 2004 Religion News Service

(UNDATED) Wracked by a child sex abuse scandal, Catholic churches across the country are requiring background checks on all volunteers and staff who work with children. But this increased scrutiny is having unintended effects among Hispanic immigrant volunteers, triggering apprehension and anxiety.

At a time when increased security requirements have permeated all walks of American daily life, church authorities say many immigrants are nervous about the breadth and detail of the background checks, even though they know such checks are needed.

For this story, no immigrants were willing to be quoted about their concerns.

But church officials say problems include worries about how the information will be shared, wariness of unfamiliar authority figures and institutions, and confusion about being asked to comply with requirements that did not exist in immigrants’ native countries. Some fear they may lack proper documentation, and could be harassed by the U.S. Citizenship and Immigration Services, even though Catholic authorities say the background checks are kept private.

Ana Rivera, a Puerto Rican volunteer liaison to the Hispanic community at Our Lady of Lourdes in Arlington, Va., has seen the nervousness firsthand. Members of her community have been reluctant to reveal the kinds of personal information required by background checks at the church.

“At first they were kind of apprehensive about it,” said Rivera. “For people that don’t have papers, they were kind of scared” that the information might be held against them.

But after she explains that the information will be strictly confidential, the aim is to protect children, and that the requests come from the priests, most come around, said Rivera.

Since 2002, the Catholic Church has required all volunteers who work with children to undergo strict background checks that can include criminal screening, fingerprinting and, for those who drive kids to church activities, any history of drunken driving.

The privacy problem at Our Lady of Lourdes is replicated at other Catholic churches throughout the country.

Jan Slattery, director of the Office for the Protection of Children and Youth at the Archdiocese of Chicago, said that concerns arise not only because the volunteers might be undocumented, but also because they are not accustomed to divulging such private information.

In European countries, for instance, she said, “the rights of privacy are very, very different.”

Because there are no national databases, requests for such information are rare, said Slattery. Background checks are “very foreign to some people,” she said.

Michele Waslin, immigration policy analyst at the National Council of La Raza, a nonprofit Hispanic policy organization, said that some might be afraid to share private information if they come from countries with restrictive governments.

“I can understand why people from some countries with repressive governments can be apprehensive, especially if they don’t know how this information will be shared,” Waslin said.

The Archdiocese of Los Angeles has similar concerns.

“When it comes to immigrants who may be undocumented or don’t have their papers in order,” said Tod M. Tamberg, director of media relations, “that creates some complexity and requires, I think, a great deal of outreach and education to them to help them understand why this is important, why they don’t have anything to fear.”

Concerns usually arise because immigrants are afraid of the system and are concerned about their privacy, said Jessy Lira, resource specialist for the Hispanic community in the Diocese of Oakland (Calif).

“In some ways, we don’t know what kind of confidentiality we can keep,” Lira said. “It’s very important for (the volunteers) to know the consequences.”

Immigrant volunteers often face difficult decisions, juggling their commitment to the church and concerns about their legal status in the United States. Some are dissuaded from volunteering once they find out about the background check requirements.

“Some people say they don’t want to do it. Others say, `I know it’s necessary. I see the need in my community,’ and they take a risk,” said Lira.

The Rev. Ricardo A. Chavez of the St. Peter Martyr Parish in Pittsburg, Calif., agreed that the requirement for background checks continues to trouble many immigrants.

“They just live in terrible fear,” said Chavez, whose 2,500-member church is made up almost entirely of Hispanics, many of them immigrants from Mexico. “They are reluctant to get fingerprinted. We have to force them.”

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Chavez said that given “society’s attitude towards them,” immigrant volunteers feel they are taking a risk.

Yet some say the fears of volunteers must be secondary to the safety of children.

Because of the scandals, the church may have a legal necessity to demand the background checks, said Brent Wilkes, national executive director at the League of United Latin American Citizens, a Washington-based policy organization.

“There was a problem, and they are trying to address it,” he said.

Although some volunteers remain reluctant to accept them, stringent background checks have proved effective in the Archdiocese of Washington. Five convicted sex offenders were prevented from working or volunteering, said spokeswoman Susan Gibbs.

Because her church succeeded in screening those applicants, Gibbs said, other sex offenders might be deterred from applying.

Most volunteers agree to the checks when church officials explain that the screenings are helping prevent sex offenders from working with their children, said Gibbs.

“People feel uncomfortable being part of a criminal background check,” she said. “We understand that completely.”

But, she declared, “It is a small thing to ask in light of the safety of children.”

MO/PH END RNS