Jesus, Responsibility, and Sexual Violence
by Rob Sturdy
““I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep. The hired hand is not the shepherd and does not own the sheep. So, when he sees the wolf coming, he abandons the sheep and runs away. Then the wolf attacks the flock and scatters it. The man runs away because he is a hired hand and cares nothing for the sheep.””
One of the most interesting aspects of this well-known discourse in John’s Gospel is the composition of the crowd to whom Jesus is speaking. We know that the bulk of the crowd is composed of Pharisees from the conclusion of the preceding chapter as well as the first verse of Ch. 10 (“Very truly I tell you Pharisees…). Given the conflict between Jesus and the Pharisees that fills out so much of the drama of his earthly life and ministry, it is easy to overlook that there is at least one person in the crowd, and perhaps even only one person who was not a Pharisee. That person is the man born blind that we meet in Ch. 9 vs. 1.
This man is healed by Jesus in a peculiar way. Spit and dirt are used to make mud, which Jesus rubs upon the man’s eyes. The blind man is instructed to wash his muddy face in the Pool of Siloam, a word meaning “sent.” The early church Fathers take advantage of this to remind us that if He, Jesus, had not been sent, none of us would be delivered. But Jesus was sent, and this blind man was delivered, first from his blindness and then from something greater (9.38).
Deliverance did not bring peace to this man’s life. Quite the opposite. First, people in disbelief of healing question whether this man really was born blind at all (John 9.9). Then, because the man was healed on the Sabbath, he was accused of being in league with an irreligious sinner (John 9.16). The religious council, here composed of Pharisees, calls the man’s parents in, who refuse to defend him (9.22). The sad tale concludes with the Pharisees casting the man out of his own religious community. In an accusation that mirrors Jesus’s own disciples’ first impression of the man born blind, the Pharisees say to him: “You were steeped in sin at birth.” John concludes this portion of the narrative succinctly: “And they threw him out” (9.34).
At this point, we’re better prepared to see the crowd. Here is a lonely man, still adjusting to new-born physical and spiritual sight. He may still be on his knees, having fallen to the ground moments before to worship the man who healed him (9.38). He is surrounded by his religious leaders, the Pharisees, who have accused him, found him guilty, and cast him out of his own spiritual home. Where are this man’s parents? His friends? They have already receded to the shadows, afraid they too might be accused, found guilty, and cast out. Who is left? Jesus. What does he say? “I am the Good Shepherd.”
In my experience, there are parallels between the victims of sexual assault and abuse, and this man born blind, though their journeys begin in different ways. Just as the blind man’s experience was denied, victims of sexual assault often have their own experiences denied. Just as the blind man felt the gears of the institution churn against him, victims of sexual assault often sense that leadership is weighing the cost of truth against the reputation and interests of the institution or the leadership. Just as the blind man felt the indignity and pain of his parents’ refusal to defend him, so too do victims of sexual assault often bear the betrayal of family and friends who withdraw out of fear or misplaced loyalty. And though I wish this were not so, and I say this with genuine and great sorrow, even with tears, in many cases of sexual assault and abuse the victim is left just as the blind man, with only one friend amid a crowd of accusers. But the Gospel! This one friend is the Good Shepherd. Thank God.
These issues became pertinent to my own denomination, the Anglican Church in North America, when a lay catechist, Mark Rivera, was charged with felony sexual child abuse. At least ten other victims have since come forward. Furthermore, though the allegations were known to the diocesan bishop Stewart Ruch, church members were not notified for two years. This is something for which Bishop Ruch has acknowledged and taken a degree of responsibility. Both the Diocese and the ACNA, at the provincial level, have taken steps towards accountability. If the accounts of the survivors can be verified, then the failure of responsibility at multiple levels of leadership is terminally actionable. Whether the steps taken by those in authority will be sufficient to fulfill the pastoral responsibility to those involved and the moral responsibility to seek justice and restoration, remains to be seen. We pray and hope.
The Need for Prayer
Prayer is needed, and much of it. In my own context, which is college ministry, it is estimated that somewhere between 19 and 27% of women will be sexually assaulted in college and 6-8% of college men will experience the same. In my pastoral experience as a college chaplain, these numbers, for both genders, are low estimates. The sexual assault problem on college campuses is like an iceberg. The portion you can see doesn’t represent the severity of the problem. There have been many times I have gone home having heard about multiple experiences of sexual violence in the same day. The scale of the problem, the enduring nature of the damage done, and the cruelty towards vulnerable people whom I love, has at times overwhelmed me to the point of despair. The prayer needed is not the “thoughts and prayers” of social media. These are probably nothing more than passing thoughts leading to unprayed prayers. Rather, we need desperate prayers before a crucified God, that he may bring us an Easter out of the rubble of this Golgotha.
The Need for Hope
Hope is needed, and much of it. Hope is a difficult thing to come by at the moment. I understand why. We are experiencing a near universal collapse of trust in our public institutions, including the church, and though it grieves me to say it, this collapse of trust is warranted. Where institutional trust is lacking, populist approaches such as twitter campaigns and websites are inevitable. This may make institutionalists uncomfortable, but I will not begrudge victims who have been denied all other avenues of relief from taking to the streets. Implicated institutions could restore trust by laying down their defenses, but they often rush to buy more brick and mortar. The defensive institution, though often the chief offender, is not the only one at fault. Those seeking justice should beware the temptation to focus so narrowly on condemning what is wrong that they fail to do the difficult work of making things right. It is an easy thing to shun the hard, long-term, and often discouraging work of preparing for a better tomorrow. Who can commit to this work without much prayer and much hope?
Prayerful, Hope-Filled Work
What kind of prayerful, hope-filled, long suffering work might be needed? The following brief remarks are not exhaustive nor sufficient, but I trust helpful. I see much of the work that needs to be done by the Good Shepherd, through his body, as undoing the story of the blind man in John’s Gospel. I take those points as a guide, and I hope the reader will not begrudge me relying upon personal and anecdotal experiences gained while providing care to a number of sexual assault and abuse survivors while serving as a chaplain on a college campus.
Believe
The first obstacle faced by the man born blind who was healed by Jesus was disbelief. In my experience, one of the hardest things for victims of sexual violence to do is find someone who believes them. It is a low bar, rarely cleared.
Are you sure that happened?
I’ve known so and so for many years, and he just would never do that.
Had you been drinking?
Do you not remember?
Are you sure you just don’t regret doing it?
These are questions, in one version or another, with which victims of sexual violence are likely to be familiar. We don’t need to be naïve. Claims of sexual violence can be and are falsified, and though exact knowledge of instances of false accusations are impossible to come by, it is generally agreed that such instances are low (between 1% and 9%). If someone reports an instance of sexual violence to you, it is far more likely that they are reporting the truth. And in my experience, if you believe them, both you and they will be lonely. I have seen parents refuse to believe their own children and even disown them. I have seen friends refuse to believe, or minimize the experiences of victims. The news is littered with bishops, priests, and pastors, across denominations, refusing to believe and ostracizing their own parishioners. If a victim comes to you, and you clear the very low bar of just taking them at their word, you just might be the only one to do so.
In our own community, we often and publicly remind the congregation that if they are a victim of physical or sexual abuse, or have been a victim, that our posture is to always believe and always support. We make these announcements strategically at the beginning of the year, before holidays, before fall, spring, and summer breaks. We make these announcements during public worship, Christian ed., and in small groups. We list by name the people who have made a commitment to responsibly hear and believe reports of sexual violence. These are male and female, clergy and lay, volunteers and students. I, as the clergy, do not appoint them. They are nominated by the congregation as people that the congregation trusts to deal with these sensitive issues. This conveys that the community, not just the clergy, has a responsibility to such persons. We support them, providing a variety of avenues through which victims can begin this difficult process in a way of their own choosing. Though our community is often a supportive place where victims begin the process of reporting, we also publish numbers of other resources outside of our community on cards that are handed out to every member of the congregation.
Support
In the case of the man born blind, the gears of the institution began to grind in favor of self-preservation, rather than acknowledge the reality of what God was doing in their midst. And so they suppress, rather than support the work of God. Self-preservation for institutions, as well as leaders of institutions can be a terrible temptation. Victims of sexual abuse and assault can be seen as a threat to the institution and its leaders because victims force the institution to acknowledge that it is not everything it wishes it was and may actually be quite a bit worse than it thinks it is. Surely we see this in the scripture above, where the good shepherding of Jesus is not only a comfort to the man born blind, but an indictment of the false shepherds who sat in judgement of him. How different would the story have been had the Pharisees laid down their defenses, admitted their failures, confessed their blindness, and asked for help! And then this would have been a story of healing, not just for the man born blind, but the Pharisees as well. Churches commit self-inflicted wounds when they minimize abuse, silence victims, and ostracize advocates because they effectively prevent their own healing. Defensiveness is destructive.
Jesus, who was crucified, is not defensive. He is a vulnerable shepherd, willing to lay down his life for his sheep. Shepherding is a good metaphor to keep in mind when someone brings this trauma before you, because they will need help charting a path forward. Here are some guidelines we follow in our community.
Are You Safe Right Now? Shepherds are concerned with the safety of their flock. This question needs to be asked as soon as possible. If the answer is “no,” the matter has been taken out of your hands. Call the police.
The Victim Gets to Decide What Happens Next: Some victims of sexual violence simply want to bring what was in darkness to light and they want this done in private. Some want to go further, seeking pastoral and therapeutic support. Some want to pursue legal options. Your responsibility is to know what the options are and commit to being with them as they walk out an option of their own choosing. In some instances, churches seek to limit the victim’s options by proposing in house “biblical” reconciliations between victims and abusers, as was done in the Covenant Life Church in Gaithersburg Maryland. It is alleged that one victim at Christ Our Light Anglican Church in Big Rock, Illinois, was pressured by her clergy to not to report to police. It is important that the reader know two things in light of what these churches did. First, in instances where minors are involved or where someone is in imminent danger of further abuse and or violence, you are required to report such instances to the police. A very helpful guide in doing so can be found here. Second, though the churches did what they may have thought was best, further instances of abuse nevertheless followed. Attempts to keep things in the dark, rather than exposing them to the light, ensured that the things kept in the dark only grew, and more monstrous at that.
If minors are not involved, the victims have more freedom to chart their own path forward. One thing that our community often hears, during the public announcements alluded to above, is “We will believe you and you will get to decide what happens next.” There may be instances where, because of your experience or training, you do know what’s best. For example, seeking professional help through a licensed counselor is often a good step forward, but one not every victim is ready to pursue. Nevertheless, because the victim has already been denied bodily autonomy, we do not seek to further deprive them of their freedom. We encourage. We guide. But the decision as to what happens next belongs to them. The only exception to this rule is if the person reporting is in imminent danger, or a failure to notify others could place others in imminent danger. At this point, you are obligated to call the police. Failure to act in such instances is a decision to place the victim at further risk, or to place potential victims at risk. That is the gravity of “mishandling” reports of sexual abuse and assault.
Of course you can support victims by doing your best to implement practices to minimize opportunities for such things to take place. Many churches require staff and volunteers to take sexual abuse prevention training such as Darkness to Light, which is excellent. But it is insufficient. Whether or not encouraged at the Provincial level, or mandated at the Diocesan level, it is your responsibility to make sure that you are educated in terms of policies, prevention, and support and that you and your team are implementing best practices.
Walking With the Victim: Once we have a clear decision on the path forward from the victim, we commit to walking with that person indefinitely. In some cases, this may mean merely being a listening ear and comforting presence. If the victim can be encouraged to seek professional help with a licensed therapist, which in my experience can require many months of support and encouragement, then our community provides both transportation as well as full financial support for such medical care. We are a small, college chapel, but this is money and time well spent. The long-term damage of sexual assault and abuse exceeds the abilities of most parish priests. The professional help provided by trained therapists and counselors does not replace the pastoral care provided by clergy and Christian community, but rather augments the work of healing being done by God. If the victim decides to pursue legal options, we accompany the victim to every meeting with the investigators and on to the courts, if the victim wishes it. This is not a responsibility I would delegate unless asked. It is important for the community to see the leader lead, by being present for the victim during these public and difficult events.
Be Sticky: Though I wish it were not so, sexual violence often leaves its victims with enduring wounds which manifest in unexpected, frustrating, and deeply discouraging ways. Walking with anyone through long term hardship takes endurance. It is telling that at the end of the blind man’s story, only Jesus is left. If we are to be Christ to our congregations, especially to victims of sexual abuse and assault, we must commit to the long haul and pray for endurance.
Confront
Jesus’s discourse on the good shepherd is a confrontation, but it is a particular kind of confrontation. His shepherding of the man born blind is such a radical alternative to the false and abusive shepherding of the Pharisees, that the Pharisees cannot help but experience the alternative of Jesus as condemnation of their own actions. On occasion, followers of Jesus must confront evil loudly, directly, disruptively, and outside of the normal channels. Sadly, this is often the only means that victims of sexual abuse and assault are left with after years of fruitlessly seeking resolution from within trusted institutions. Nevertheless, the norm for Christian confrontation must remain offering a radical alternative to evil by living out the good. A sincere and serious commitment to believe victims, to support them with time, resources, and presence, to be their advocates in seeking justice, confronts and condemns not only abusers, but also unsupportive or minimizing leadership and institutions. By focusing efforts in this direction, not only is evil confronted, but energy stays focused on the support of the survivor, where it should be.
A Final Note
I certainly don’t wish to end on anything less than an optimistic note, but this is lonely, often discouraging work. If you take victim’s advocacy seriously, you may often find yourself struggling against the culture of your own institution or your own leadership. Those of you who have experience walking alongside someone through human resources in the workplace, a Title IX process in college, or through the legal system, know that even when such processes are run by well-meaning people, justice seems elusive. The young man born blind certainly didn’t get justice, nor was he vindicated, at least not by any earthly court. But Jesus was there. The Good Shepherd spoke to him and was his shepherd. As victims in churches, workplaces, college campuses, military service, and elsewhere, experience the lonely and disorienting world of sexual trauma, Jesus is still present through those willing to be Christ to those in need. It will take much prayer, much hope, much good work. While in the midst of this Golgotha of great evil, Easter looms. May the presence of Jesus sustain and shepherd us all.
Rob Sturdy is a pastor, preacher, and theologian serving as the Anglican Chaplain to the Corps of Cadets at The Citadel, his alma mater.