The whole town was in shock after the story broke out. But I wasn't. "What a horrible scandal," some said. But to me, it was a natural series of events that I always believed were inevitable.

Padre Alberto, as he is known to his many followers, never did anything that would lead me to believe he was not a man of God, completely dedicated to his vocation of teaching the word of the Lord to young and old, rich and poor, couples and entire families. People look to him for inspiration, support, spiritual guidance. He not only is a man of faith, but one who possesses a special kind of charisma that has created an almost cultlike following by his fans. Yes, his fans. In the priestly world, Padre Alberto is a rock star. But above all things, he is a man.

That is why when a gossip magazine -- known for its sensationalist and scandalous headlines -- published pictures of him with a woman expressing his affection, I was not surprised. What did surprise me is that he would expose himself to the scrutiny of the vicious world of yellow journalism.

Whatever led him to take such an important step in his life is something that probably will remain in his soul and his conscience, regardless of his public comments. The important thing is that he followed his heart. More than six decades ago, a man near and dear to my heart struggled with the same life-altering decision: my own father.

I did not find out that he had even been a priest until after his death in 1985. Since then I struggled with the uncertainty of not knowing the circumstances under which he'd left the priesthood and if my mother had had anything to do with it. For more than two decades, I searched high and low for the facts. My pursuit of the truth took me from the archives of the Archdiocese of Mexico City to the halls of the Vatican. I wanted so badly to understand why a man who had entered into the very strict vows of celibacy would break those vows and risk the condemnation of the institution of the Catholic Church. Even more troubling for me was not knowing why my father had kept such an important episode of his life a secret.

Through the years and in research conducted for my book, "I Am My Father's Daughter: Living a Life Without Secrets," I learned some of the details of his life as a priest. For example, that he was educated in a seminary in Rome, that his brother also had been a priest, that for more than a decade he had served in several parishes in and around the Mexican capital, and that at some point he had complained to his family that he'd suffered a grave disappointment with the church.

As I looked through the decades-old archives of the archdiocese, a young priest tried to appease my restlessness by reminding me that the one thing I would never be able to know was what exactly was going through his mind when he made that decision. That was one secret he had taken with him to his grave.

I later learned from his family members of his lifelong struggle to reconcile with the Catholic Church. You see, in the 1940s a priest could not just decide to walk away from the institution and still be a practicing Catholic. His efforts were documented in a letter written in Latin to the Holy See begging to be absolved. It was, in fact, Father Alberto Cutie who helped me translate the document into English and helped me understand how much my father valued giving his daughters a religious education, as explained in the letter.

Father Cutie and I have had many conversations about the church through the years, about its teachings, its rules and its shortcomings. Celibacy is unnatural, I would say; but it's the sacrifice we make for the Lord, he'd reply. I remember discussing with him the irony of canon law during the height of the sex-abuse scandal by Catholic priests. I could not understand how, according to Code 1395 of canon law, sex between clergy and an adult woman is a far more serious offense than molesting minors. The former can result in suspension; the latter, merely punishment with unspecified penalties. It's a position that's difficult to defend.

It's hard to make parallels between my father's story and that of Father Cutie; at only 40 years of age, his future is still unwritten. I have no doubt that he will continue to be the beloved figure who has comforted and inspired thousands, even as many condemn his actions. But if he were to in any way follow the steps of my father -- get married and have children while continuing to be a man of faith -- he could leave a legacy of love and courage for many generations to come.

Maria Elena Salinas can be reached at www.mariaesalinas.com.

(May 9, 2009)