Episode 10

Transcript

There is a recent Sunday lectionary passage from 2 Corinthians about the Body of Christ, how we all make up different members or body parts of that one body, and how each part of the body is needed. It states, if one member suffers, all suffer together with it. If one member is honored, all rejoice together with it. The Wall of Silence podcast is about how the Body of Christ is suffering, and how we, the many and varied members of that body, are responding to the suffering. This episode will act as a halfway marker for Season One, offering a recap of the story we've told so far, an overview and brief update of abuse cases in the ACNA and broader Anglican world, and then a reflection by me recounting my experiences since starting the podcast and pointing to the work to be done moving on into the future.

This is the Wall of Silence podcast, the ACNAtoo story, an account of church abuse and cover-up in the Anglican Church of North America. Things done and left undone and why we should care about it. This is Episode 10: Scarlet Letters and Witch Hunts, a recap and reflection.

A disclaimer: this episode contains references to sexual abuse. And a second disclaimer: the views and accounts expressed in this podcast do not represent the Diocese of Quincy or the views of the Bishop of the Diocese of Quincy.

Let's begin with a recap. Over the past months, I've begun to listen to episodes of a related podcast, Sons of Patriarchy, which are details of stories of abuse and the general culture surrounding Pastor Douglas Wilson and his congregation Christ Church in Moscow, Idaho. 

Here are two observations I've made. First, listening to these kinds of podcasts are emotionally taxing and thus difficult to get through. And thus, because I produce my own podcasts in the very same genre, I've only been able to get through a smattering of the Sons of Patriarchy episodes. This is no fault of theirs. I find I quickly meet my emotional limit before also thinking, I really need to get back to making the Wall of Silence. 

In light of the heaviness of our shared subject matter, I want to express my heartfelt thanks to anyone who's listened to any of the episodes so far, whether it was one of my first introductory episodes, or even only one of Cherin's, Joanna's, or Helen's episodes, before remarking yourself, this is a lot, and why am I so tired? I'll get back to this later. And even if you've never gotten back to another episode, thank you. You listening means so much. 

The next observation that I have is that when it comes to stories of church abuse, whether it's one community or an entire church denomination, there is an overwhelming amount of stories and details to keep track of. Sons of Patriarchy are able to put out a lot more episodes than me, and while the output is impressive, I also know there is a danger in wreaking information overload upon listeners. Again, that's no fault of their own. It goes along with the story they're trying to tell, which is rather large. But it's why, despite my significantly less output, I have had myself, 1,400 listens to my first episode, but only around 600 listens for Helen Kuening's second episode. Notice the drop-off? 

In light of this built-in listening hurdle, I want to now offer a recap of the Wall of Silence story that's been told so far, which is to say, if it's helpful for you to start listening to the episodes from this point moving forward, this is now your chance to get caught up on the essential story. If you are desiring more details, please check the show notes for this episode to locate the news and ACNAtoo articles that are referenced here.

Our story began in Big Rock, Illinois, an outside suburb of Chicago. At Christ our Light Anglican Church (or COLA), which is in the Anglican Church in North America (or ACNA), and was a church in the Diocese of the Upper Midwest (or UMD). The ACNA is a split from the Episcopal Church, which is the American province of the Anglican Church, or the Church of England. Founded in 2009, the ACNA is a conservative and small-o-orthodox reaction to the more liberal and progressive ideologies and theologies gaining prominence in the Episcopal Church. 

In 2019, a 9-year-old girl from a family who attended COLA told her mother, Cherin Marie, that Mark Rivera had been sexually abusing her. Rivera was what is known as a lay catechist, who, although not ordained, often led church services and took on a number of pastoral responsibilities. Cherin Marie informed the lead pastor of her church, Rector Rand York, who then himself consulted with leaders in the UMD, Cannon William Beasley, who was also leading the Greenhouse Church Planting Initiative, and Chancellor Charlie Philbrick, lawyer for the diocese. 

Rand York then had Cherin meet with Rivera and another church leader, Senior Warden Christopher Lepeyre, who informed her in that meeting that, quote, "...we've been advised by the diocesan chancellor that we do not need to report this to the authorities." And it sounds like you don't need to either.”

The next day, Cherin's family attended Church of the Resurrection in Wheaton, Illinois, kind of mother church to COLA. There, Deacon Margie Fawcett told her that she needed to report the abuse to the police, and after consulting with the RAINN sexual assault line, Cherin did so the next day, May 20th, 2019. 

Over the next days and weeks, Mark Rivera was removed as a catechist from COLA, he was visited by the DCFS, was required to live away from his family for his children's protection, and Cherin Marie and her family were essentially shunned by her community for coming forward about the abuse allegations. Eventually Mark Rivera was arrested, convicted in December of 2022, and convicted in March of 2023 to 15 years in prison. 

But Cherin Marie's daughter wasn't Rivera's only victim. Joanna Rudenborg, Rivera's neighbor in Big Rock, also came forward with her own allegations of rape and sexual assault, with eventually around a dozen women claiming to be one of his victims. As a result of Rudenborg's trial, another six years were added to Rivera's sentence. You can hear Cherin's story in full by listening to episodes 3 and 4, and hear Joanna tell her own story of Rivera's grooming, rape, and manipulation in her episodes 5 and 6. 

But a vital component of their stories isn't just the abuse itself, but also how church leadership responded to Rivera's actions coming to light. This leads us back to Chancellor Philbrick, as mentioned before, but most especially to Bishop Stuart Ruch, leader of the UMD. In Cherin and Joanna's episodes, you will also hear how Bishop Ruch failed to report Rivera's abuse to the authorities, and how communications broke down between him and Cherinn and Joanna, and other Church of the Resurrection and UMD leaders, as they attempted to hire a third-party firm to investigate Mark Rivera's history of abuse in their church communities. 

The story gets more than decently complicated at this point, but you will hear how Bishop Ruch finally told his diocese about Rivera in 2021, how this led Cherin and Joanna to go public with their stories on Twitter, now X, and how ACNAtoo was formed as an advocacy group in the process. 

From there, in episode 7, we hear from Kelly Goewey, a former parishioner of Church of the Resurrection, who shared what it was like when Bishop Ruch announced to the Church about the abuse and how it caused her to lose faith in her church leadership. Finally, we expand it in detail on Bishop Ruch and the UMD's mishandling of Rivera's abuse with the account of Helen Keuning, who served on the Bishops' Council throughout this time, and who eventually resigned when the lies, disrespect, and mistreatment of abuse survivors was more than she could take.

 All of that brings us only to the middle of 2022. But where are we now? The ACNA released an investigation report during the fall of 2022, only to pull the report three days later. They have never returned that report to the public eye. Then there was complete silence for eight months. Until then, Archbishop Foley Beach wrote to the entire ACNA membership to explain that three bishops had brought a presentment, or formal charge, against Bishop Ruch but that Bishop Ruch had requested a stay order, in effect, a halt in gag order on the disciplinary process over his actions and inactions. 

What followed? Weeks later, a group of lay members and clergy submitted a presentment of their own against Bishop Ruch. Three months later, the province announced that an ecclesiastical trial was warranted. We'll be covering these developments in upcoming episodes, focusing specifically on Bishop Stuart Ruch's presentment and how it came to be. 

Learning about church abuse can often feel like receiving news about wildfires out west in the US. Oh no. Where are the fires at now? It seems like there is always a new abuse case to report on. But as with many wildfire cases over the years, it's usually always happening somewhere else, to someone else. I've never been to Kansas City IHOP, to Morningstar, and it's been years since I set foot in the Southern Baptist Church. 

But with Mark Rivera, church abuse showed up in my neighborhood. And what it's revealed is there are fires blazing all over the ACNA. If you go to an ACNA church, has it hit you yet that at this point, none of us can still say, oh, that's awful, but it's happening to them over there. We'll just have to let them deal with it. Which is to say, over the past few weeks, abuse cases in the ACNA have garnered national attention, most notably through a major story coming out in the Washington Post. 

And how does all this relate to Bishop Ruck's upcoming presentment trial, which will take place in July of 2025? There have been a decent amount of developments in recent months, and in order to get you up to date, I've asked Audrey Luhmann from ACNAtoo to give an overview for you. 

Before she begins, it's also worth noting two high-profile cases coming out of the UK, that of John Smythe and Mike Pilovacchi, both of whom were revealed to have abused or mistreated young men, the former leading to the resignation of Archbishop Justin Welby himself. Here are some excerpts of news reports about Smythe from Channel 4 and Sky News, along with a documentary on Worship Leader Matt Redmond's YouTube channel featuring his wife Beth talking about Mike Pilovacchi.

The Church of England commissioned an official review which started work in 2019. It sets out the horrifying scale of the abuse over several decades in the UK, Zimbabwe, and South Africa. It accuses church officers of a cover-up, and it's damning in its criticism of failings by senior church leaders, including the Archbishop of Canterbury, Justin Welby. The review, led by former Social Services Director Keith Macon, says that over a 40-year period, John Smythe became arguably the most prolific serial abuser to be associated with the Church of England, operating in three different countries and involving as many as 130 boys and young men. Justin Welby became aware of the abuse alleged against John Smythe in around August 2013. 

He introduced sadistic beatings when I was an older teenager and through my university days up until the point that I made an attempt on my life to stop the abuse. The abuse itself was physical. It was caning many, many hits with a cane, but far more damaging to me was the mental anguish that came along with it. On my 21st birthday, John Smythe suggested or told me that I needed a special beating, and at that point I decided that my life wasn't worth living and that I'd rather face death than another of his beatings. I was found and saved by friends who I lived in the flat with. I can honestly say there isn't probably a day or two that goes by without me thinking about it and whether I could have done more to expose Smythe myself and therefore stop the abuse that continued in Africa. If I approached him, he would ignore me. If I sat down, he would get up, but ask for a meeting, he wasn't available. I just felt embarrassed and I felt confused. I would try harder and it would make it worse and then I would just try and be, just stay on the down low. And that didn't make it better. I felt like a failure because something's happened that I've caused. And I felt like I was shrinking as a person. And you know, I just remember one day just feeling like I am so scared to go through those doors. And now I'm in this situation where my spiritual leader, my boss, whatever you want to call him, is effectively bullying me. 

On Aug. 18, 2023, Andrew Gross - the Communications Director of Archbishop Foley Beach, wrote to the authors of the lay-led presentment against Bp. Stewart Ruch that “the timing, schedule, location, and level of publicity of the trial are all things the Court for the Trial of a Bishop will need to decide in the weeks ahead.” One year later, in August 2024, the Provincial Office created a webpage for the long-promised updates. When a trial schedule finally appeared a month later, Bp. Ruch’s trial date was set another 10 months in the future: July 14, 2025.

July 14, 2025 will be 2,248 days since Bp. Stewart Ruch learned that his lay catechist Mark Rivera had molested a young girl. That’s six years later. Cherin’s young daughter, the little nine-year-old from the beginning of our coverage, will celebrate her 16th birthday before Bp. Ruch goes to trial. And it will be 1,467 days since the ACNA’s Provincial Office took over the investigation of Bp. Ruch’s alleged mishandling of the abuse response. That’s just over four years of “handling” to reach a trial date.

So where are we now in the process? According to the ACNA’s posted trial schedule, “By January 15, 2025, each party shall have submitted all written discovery to the opposing party. The responding party must serve its answers and any objections within 30 days after being served with interrogatories.” Has that taken place? We don’t know, and the presentment authors have still not been told what their role is in the trial… or even what the Court is trying. Is it the veracity of their evidence and accusations, or is it simply whether those accusations against Ruch constitute his violations of the ACNA’s canons? Who knows.
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On another front that involves the entire ACNA, the June Provincial Assembly ended with a few updates to the denomination’s Constitution & Canons. One of those changes is a new requirement in Canon I.5.8, that each ACNA diocese must “adopt safeguarding policies and procedures for children and for adults… no later than June 30, 2025, and they shall be made publicly available to the members of the diocese.”

Out of the 28 ACNA dioceses, 10 dioceses do not have safeguarding policies published on their diocesan websites. 12 still do not have a publicly available reporting mechanism. It’s been seven months since Assembly, and June 30th is… five months away.

All of this may seem far from your local parish, but the past several weeks have shown that abuse in the ACNA is everywhere. First, there was the news in early December that Jurisdiction of the Armed Forces & Chaplaincy priest in Fairbanks, Alaska, Fr. Craig Daugherty, was arrested on two counts of sexual abuse of a minor. 

Then on Jan. 9th, Frank Gough II, a 64 yr-old priest in a Diocese of the Gulf Atlantic church in Shalimar, FL was arrested on 30 counts of possession of child pornography; one of the files found on his computer drive showed the abuse of a 3-5 yr-old female. 

Days later, we found out that lay leader and “theologian in residence” Brandon Meeks, of Anglican Diocese of the South’s All Saints Anglican Church in Hot Springs, Arkansas, had not only falsified his University of Aberdeen PhD credentials, he had been convicted of a sex crime against a minor in 2017 and is a registered sex offender, yet was until December still listed as “theologian in residence” at his church!

The biggest bombshell was published by The Washington Post on Jan. 15th. After a nine-month investigation, reporter Ian Shapira published an article on a former youth pastor at what is now The Falls Church Anglican (TFCA), in Falls Church, VA, in the ACNA’s Diocese of the Mid-Atlantic. Taylor was on staff from 1990-2002, five years before the rector, John Yates, removed his church from the Episcopal Diocese of Virginia. From The Falls Church, Taylor moved to Church of the Apostles, in Atlanta, GA (an Anglican church not affiliated with the ACNA), and then a few years later he moved to Christ Church, an ACNA church in Atlanta which belongs to the Anglican Diocese of the South. Taylor is reported to have abused minor boys at The Falls Church and Church of the Apostles before an investigation was quietly conducted by Christ Church in 2009, resulting in Taylor’s firing and his resignation of his ordination.  

It is clear from both the 2024 Falls Church-commissioned investigation report by attorney Eddie Isler, and from the Washington Post article, that former Falls Church rector John Yates received disclosures about Jeff Taylor’s sexual abuse and grooming of young boys at the Falls Church and from Atlanta’s Church of the Apostles five times from 2004 to 2021. Each time, he never reported the allegations to the police, did not notify his congregation to search for other victims, did not notify Winnetka Bible Church where Taylor worked before TFCA, never notified his vestry or his Bishop, and did not initiate any investigation himself at TFCA. 

The Falls Church Anglican has been led by rector Sam Ferguson since 2019. In 2021, the parents of a sexual abuse survivor disclosed to Yates that Jeff Taylor had abused their son, who had recently passed. They requested an investigation which Yates conveyed to Ferguson. Two years later, frustrated by Ferguson’s lack of personal outreach to them, and the lack of an investigation, the parents went to newly elected Diocese of the Mid-Atlantic Bishop Chris Warner. Upon hearing their story, he ordered TFCA to begin an investigation. Had the parents not gone to the Bishop, Jeff Taylor’s abuse probably would have never come to light. 

The Falls Church hired an attorney to investigate Jeff Taylor’s alleged abuse and rector John Yates’ knowledge and response. The investigation was hardly independent--it was conducted by a lawyer who shared an office building with Scott Ward. Until recently, Ward served simultaneously as Chancellor, or attorney, for TCFA, the Diocese of the Mid-Atlantic, and the ACNA. It was also regarded by many as being too kind and forgiving to John Yates and upon close examination, details and dates at times seem to be obscured or vague when they also benefit Yates. But the report, and the subsequent addendum, did surface important details, including a previously known story about adult clergy sexual abuse by a TCFA priest in the 1980s, and two previously unknown stories about child sexual abuse and grooming by two youth volunteers in the 1990s.

The Washington Post did not simply rehash details from the report: it raised more questions about why former Falls Church rector John Yates still recommended Jeff Taylor for his position at Christ Church Atlanta and agreed to preach at Taylor’s ordination in 2004, when he had already heard complaints about Taylor’s actions and behavior from multiple sources. It also raised questions about 2009, when the rector of Christ Church, Alfred Sawyer, said Yates told him about a new abuse disclosure at TFCA, but Yates told the Post that he does not remember the conversation. And sadly, it appears that there was no follow-up by church leaders after Jeff Taylor left Atlanta for Athens, GA, and later, Cincinnati, Ohio, where he is believed to still reside today. Taylor is also under FBI investigation.

It is interesting to note that there are numerous similarities between the case of Jeff Taylor’s abuse and leaders’ lack of response and the now infamous case of pastor John Smyth’s abuse of young boys and the lack of response from leaders in the Church of England. The difference? The Archbishop of Canterbury resigned in November over his failures to act, and a number of Smyth survivors are calling for the resignations of other leading church officials. 

So far in the ACNA, no one has publicly stepped down as a direct result of their inaction, despite Taylor’s abuse being known by multiple ACNA bishops and renowned leaders. Bp. Warner issued a letter on Nov. 25th that acknowledged former rector John Yates’ and current rector Sam Ferguson’s inactions and the harm they caused to Taylor’s victims. However, the disclosure in his letter – that he gave both priests “godly admonitions” with undisclosed requirements – was sandwiched between praise for the men’s ministry and service. Furthermore, while attorney Scott Ward stepped down as chancellor of The Falls Church – a resignation that was never explained – and the Diocese of the Mid-Atlantic, Bp. Warner explained in his letter that this was because “the diocese needs a chancellor who can be singularly focused rather than shared.” Indeed, Scott Ward reportedly remains the Vice Chancellor of the ACNA as an entity. Warner stated that he believes Ward “sought to do the right thing.” Scott Ward was the legal advisor to The Falls Church Anglican every time an alleged survivor of Jeff Taylor came forward. To reiterate, no leader called civil authorities, the congregation was left uninformed, and no investigation was initiated until the Bishop ordered TFCA to do so in 2023 – that’s 16 years after the first victim came forward in 2007 and 19 years after John Yates heard about allegations at Church of the Apostles in 2004.

Former students from The Falls Church youth group, Cornerstone, have created a website devoted to raising awareness about Jeff’s actions, detailing how the disclosures were mishandled, connecting survivors, and encouraging anyone with information to contribute to the ongoing FBI investigation. They are also interested in hearing from anyone with information about the failures of Yates, Ferguson, Ward, and any others. Until it is clear that the ACNA will hold its leaders accountable for upholding their sacred responsibility to protect, we will continue to see abuse mishandling as the rule and not the exception. Their website is jefftaylorjustice.org.

Over the past few months, I've wrestled back and forth a tremendous amount about offering my own update about what happened to me this summer with my bishop, Alberto Morales, calling me to indefinitely pause this podcast. How do I explain what happened? A few people have asked if I've met any more with my bishop or received any communications from him. The short answer is no, nothing. However, I have decided I am ready to tell more of my story. Please note there's even more to tell, and I might be willing to tell it if there is a reason to do so and an interest. But now, for the sake of time, I'll offer this shortened and yet still relatively long version. At the end of the day, I'm hoping people can simply be willing to listen to my story, attempt to understand it, and then connect it to the broader abuse cases going on in the ACNA.

In his official letter to me, my bishop said, “By virtue of the vow of obedience you made the day of your ordination to your bishop, I ask you to pause the podcast that you direct and become an intercessor of the people that are suffering through this bitter situation.” In this instance, I wasn't given a godly admonition, that is, direct command from my bishop, that can be a little difficult to define. Nonetheless, I was called to obedience. I'll let canon law experts parse out the differences between the two. 

However, in the wake of that letter, from what I was told through my bishop, both he and I faced a potential lawsuit from as yet unnamed people, that is, unnamed to me, not, I assume, to him. People who are apparently in leadership or at the very least highly influential in the Anglican Church in North America, and that he and I faced an ecclesial trial or trials against us, me for producing the podcast, and he for having a priest in his diocese do so. Speaking of that letter, other than excerpts I've quoted from, I've not yet released it to the public. However, when that letter was sent to me as an email attachment, without any prior notice I should add, it was already a semi-public document, as a whole list of diocese of Quincy and ACNA leadership were c-seed on to it. 

This included former Archbishop Foley Beach, Bishop Bill Atwood, Bishop Todd Hunter, former diocese of Quincy Bishop Keith Ackerman, the canon lawyer of my diocese, Father Eric Raskoff, the canon to the ordinary of my diocese, Father Michael Strachan, the president of the Standing Committee, Father Frank Dunaway, the chancellor to my diocese, Tad Brenner, and a few other leading priests in my diocese. 

Note, I had gone from one day receiving a call from a fellow priest friend who had been tasked in conveying that Bishop Morales was calling me to pause the podcast due to pressures in the province, to me requesting from my bishop that we find time to meet to discuss this matter after returning from a family vacation which I was about to leave on, to receiving this official letter, my first ever with an archbishop c-seed on to it, which is to say, from my vantage point, the letter came from out of nowhere. This leads me to assume my bishop was facing some kind of tremendous pressure from those he vaguely names as the province or at the provincial level. 

In the aftermath of the letter being sent, Archbishop Foley sent a reply-all email to my bishop, which seemed to directly address me in my situation, while also claiming that calls to end the podcast were not coming from the provincial office. Foley Beach's email seemed to disparage me and wash its hands of me all at once, leaving me incredibly confused and alienated from anyone in the ACNA or my diocese's leadership. This was in June of 2024, and a month later my bishop called a meeting with me. There, he reminded me of his call to obedience based on my ordination vows and addressed an instance on X or Twitter where I was questioning whether or not I needed to obey him in this call. 

This meeting was jarring to me on a number of levels. For instance, my bishop would not allow me to have a representative present with me on Zoom to listen in, who would potentially ask questions and be there for support and accountability to what would be discussed in the meeting? This would have been a lawyer acting in an unofficial capacity, Sam Lacy, who plans to appear in upcoming episodes of the podcast, because of his role in Bishop Ruch's presentment. 

In an email to me, Bishop Morales said, “It saddens me that you feel so threatened by the meeting that you felt the need to invite a lawyer. This is a pastoral matter, and I'm sorry, but I will not allow a lawyer to be present in a conversation between you, fellow members of the clergy, and me.” Please note, I had made this request after a month of deliberation and seeking all kinds of counsel, while also knowing there would be other priests in this meeting along with my bishop. Priests I can only assume he met with beforehand and discussed matters regarding the Wall of Silence. And in this month of deliberation, I was constantly contemplating having to face a lawsuit and a church presentment trial. It is also worth noting that cc’d onto this email reply from my bishop was the official lawyer of my diocese, Chancellor Tad Brenner. My bishop could bring legal counsel into this pastoral matter, but apparently I could not in an unofficial capacity. Moving on, I was told going into the meeting that two other priests would be present. However, when I arrived, two more priests were there and attended the full meeting. Two were present in the room and two on Zoom. That is, four priests and my bishop. Two more priests than were disclosed to me beforehand. 

Caught off guard, I had an immediate choice to make. Should I proceed with the meeting? When I told a fellow priest about the two extra priests being there without it being communicated to me beforehand, he told me, nope, no way. I would have turned around and left immediately. I would not have met under those circumstances. Well, I did not leave. I stayed, wanting to go through with whatever was about to happen. But I'll say this. To me, it felt like I was being ganged up on. Like it was an attempt by my bishop to overwhelm me and perhaps intimidate me, bending me to his will with all those priests there who I could only assume were there to back my bishop and not me. 

It wasn't a conversation, but a confrontation. And from what I remember about that meeting, that is exactly what happened. I'm not sure there was a single time any of the priests there attempted to support me in any of my explanations, defenses, or questions. And they certainly offered no support for the mission of the Wall of Silence podcast. Instead, they continually reminded me my bishop was calling me to obedience, and that is what I should do. 

I should pause here and address an ethical and moral conflict that I'm having. At the end of this meeting, I was asked by one of the priests to not share about it on social media or the podcast. And I agreed to that, while also being exhausted, my head spinning from the past hour of confrontation and blame, and without a representative there to help me think otherwise. But do people need to know what was discussed in this meeting? In some ways, it was as if that priest was asking me to adhere to a kind of unofficial NDA, that is, a non-disclosure agreement, to ensure that my bishop's order in this conversation remained hidden. In light of all that happened to me in the buildup and duration of the meeting, was not his request itself dishonorable? This is my life. These are the things that actually happened to me. And this was an instance of my own church leadership attempting to silence me about a podcast I was specifically creating to tell the story about how church leadership silences survivors of church abuse. And then, at the end of that meeting, I am again basically told, but hey, you're going to be silent about all of this, right? 

I will say this. I asked a number of questions to my bishop in that meeting that he refused to answer, namely who in the province was making the claims that we would be sued or face a resentment trial, but he wouldn't tell me. I asked him why Bishops Bill Atwood and Todd Hunter were cc'd onto this official letter to me, and he wouldn't give me a clear or satisfying answer, only saying that they were leaders in the province and that Bishop Hunter was a friend of his. When I asked him to explain what Archbishop Foley was writing about in his reply-all email to my bishop, he said to me, if you're going to involve yourself in such matters, you need to grow thicker skin and realize that not everything is about you. At that point, the meeting was about over. 

I think it's important to note that, along with everyone present, I have a recording of the transcript of this meeting with everyone there's permission. After the meeting, I set about detailing everything that happened according to my recollection, and then I chose to write two letters to my bishop. One gave my explanations as to why I felt called and justified to continue the podcast, and why his call to obedience was not, in this matter, an appropriate use of his canonical authority. In the second letter, I addressed a number of issues where I felt like I had been mistreated in this whole process, some of which I have explained over these past few minutes and many more that I have not. I had a number of people look over these letters. People in ACNAtoo, a professional writer and editor who gave it a thorough rewrite and helped me improve them tremendously. Also, the lawyer who I had asked to be present with me in the meeting, and then several priests in order to get the perspective of fellow clergy. When I requested another meeting with my bishop, he refused to meet with me and expressed no desire to read the letters I have written. So I felt on to them, as of yet unavailable to the public eye. One of my fellow priests I had read the letters asked me in his response, What are you hoping to accomplish in sending these? Almost echoing the words of a jaded weary Luke Skywalker: this is not going to go the way you think. 

This isn't going to go the way you think. Yes, disillusioned Luke, I'm beginning to realize that. Okay, okay, I'm getting the picture. But like Luke, how do I not become cynical and hopeless in this process when all my ideals and hopes and dreams begin to crumble into dust? What I had written in those two letters was too long, too detailed, and too challenging to my bishop's authority. None of it was going to be received well. I considered just sending them to him anyway, along with the other priests who had been at the July meeting, but I've just held on to them. 

I've had other people tell me I should inform the new archbishop about all this. Archbishop Steve Wood. I had one priest tell me that if in fact my bishop has treated me this way, and if it is in fact mistreatment, it's something the province needs to know about for the health and safety of the entire church. As a priest friend once said to me regarding church disputes and conflicts, there's always two sides to a story, especially when a situation is fraught and complicated and divisive. I can certainly admit this is often true. I am no stranger to the complexities of leadership, both inside and outside the church. But I wonder if he would say the same thing about the situation between me and my bishop. Again, I've not heard anything more from my bishop. One priest who is not in my diocese said, it sounds like your bishop and diocese are ghosting you, and would most likely love to be rid of you. 

I've had some people offer possibilities of switching to another diocese or another Anglican body. At the moment though, I don't feel strongly about making a decision of any kind. All of those options take a lot of work, time, and emotional energy, and I've already had enough of that over the past year. There's a relevant quote from Charles Dickens, which says, There are two classes of charitable people. One, the people who did a little and made a great deal of noise. On the other, the people who did a great deal and made no noise at all. To be honest, in creating this podcast, in many ways I feel like I have done very little. Sure, it's taken countless hours of work and a tremendous amount of concentration, but--and I mean this sincerely--it's hardly anything compared to someone who has been abused or mistreated by a church leader, and has chosen to address the wrong within or without the church, and who have endured the grueling and unsatisfying attempt to make it right, for themselves or anyone else who is in the sphere of the accused abuser. 

Did you hear the weight and the sorrow and the grief behind the words from John Smythe's victim? Or go read that Washington Post article and listen to the stories of those that were abused by Jeff Taylor. There is so much work to be done, so many of these stories within the Anglican Church in America that need to be told. I'm hoping you can see that there are those who truly want to silence those who speak out about abuse, especially rogue priest-cessors myself. Think of all the other people who have been silenced along the way, those who look at what has happened in the reaction of our leaders and think, what's the point? Why am I even doing this anymore? No one cares anyway and nothing is ever going to change. 

As we continue to tell these stories, I want to share a reflection I've been ruminating on for a few months. It's one I hope relates to everyone who's told their story on the Wall of Silence, and as far as I can see, anyone who's spoken out about church abuse and how their leadership tends to respond to it. But it's also a reflection I hope can encourage my fellow ministers and any laypeople to speak out but who are currently afraid to. It's a literary reflection, one that was unintentionally referenced by Joanna Rudenborg in part one of her episode series, when she said this.

Whatever I'd think about trying to tell one of the women in the community what had happened that night in February to come clean, I would immediately feel this deep sense of injustice and defensiveness because I knew I would be branded. I knew they'd forgive me but that I'd have a big scarlet letter on me going forward, and this upset me because it was so unfair. So I preemptively resented it, which fed this guilt resentment cycle in my mind.

If Joanna had come forward telling her community about what had happened between her and Mark Rivera, she knew she would be forgiven but also branded with a scarlet letter. Helen Kuehning had this to say about how Joanna actually was treated by the larger church community in leadership after stepping forward and trying to work with and hold the Diocese of the Upper Midwest accountable. 

I saw Joanna being labeled as sinful and being rejected for an unbeliever and for being not a member of the church. I saw Joanna being painted in broad strokes as the devil's instrument against our absolutely good and totally right and justifiably enraged religious leaders. I saw her mocked and demonized. It didn't matter anymore how we treated her. She was no longer someone who was made in the image of God, someone who Christ loved and died for. She was the other, the enemy. We could take as many shots at her as we wanted and we would be doing God and the Church a favor. 

When you can be labeled the other, the enemy, the evil threat to a faith community, when you're made to wear that scarlet letter on your breast, whether literal or figural, the community and the leaders of that community can speak of you and treat you however they like. The image, as many know, comes from Nathaniel Hawthorne's iconic eponymous novel, one I teach in my American literature classes. It features the story of Hester Prynne, a Puritan English woman who has come to the Massachusetts Bay Colony in the decades before the Salem Witch Trials, and finds herself estranged from her physician husband, who she thought was most likely dead. The novel begins with her facing public ignominy, that is shame or disgrace, because she has become pregnant through another man. She stands in the public square on the scaffold and endures her shame, made to hold her newborn child, made to wear a scarlet letter A forever upon her breast, perpetual reminder of her sin to herself as well as to others, and eventually made to live outside the community within the forest, an outcast who will never be allowed to overcome her sin, and the perceived threat she and her child, named Pearl, pose to the community. 

The twist of the novel, which is not difficult to perceive, is that the father of Hester's child is Arthur Dimmesdale, one of the local church ministers. While Hester is continually scrutinized for her infidelity, Dimmesdale's actions remain hidden. As a man who does not immediately nor obviously bear the physical manifestations of a pregnancy, his secret can stay in the shadows. And unless someone exposes him, which Hester is unwilling to do, or he confesses himself, no one will ever know about his sinful indiscretion. Dimmesdale, himself responsible for what has happened to Hester and her child, is afforded the privilege silence often gives to men in power. So long as he stays silent, he doesn't have to face scrutiny and judgment, nor the likelihood of losing his position of influence and the reverent love of his community. 

He's a lot like priests in the ACNA. Something major has happened, but they are going to keep their mouths shut, knowing that those who speak up about what has happened face the wrath of their leaders. Dimmesdale eventually does confess in a kind of roundabout, though decidedly public way at the end of the novel. And he does suffer significantly, withering away throughout the narrative and eventually dying due to his sin and the keeping of its secret. But he avoided the ever-present public judgment that Hester had to live with every day of her life. Paradoxically so, it's almost as if that scrutiny, that public judgment, set her free. 

As I've read this book repeatedly over the years, as numerous abuse cases have come to light and as I've produced this podcast, I have become absolutely gobsmacked at how churches continually treat abuse survivors and those who speak up about abuse, just as Hester Prynne's community treated her in the scarlet letter. Although it was a church leader who had raped Joanna, she was the one seen as the Deceptive Harlot. The community gathered around Mark Rivera and supported him until it was so obvious they no longer could. But even then, I have heard from many ACNAtoo members that people at Christ our Light Anglican Church and Church of the Resurrection claim that the full truth will one day come out and Mark Rivera will be exonerated. Not necessarily within the legal system, but the church will know he never did those horrible things. They still long for the redemption of the beloved church leader. Not for the accused harlot who has been exiled from the community. 

At the conclusion of the scarlet letter in the years after Arthur Dimmesdale dies, there are those even then who doubt that he ever confessed to any sin with Hester or deny that he carried his own scarlet letter etched onto the very skin of his breast. The community never wants their holy men to be tarnished. It is much more beneficial and expedient to have a scapegoat, a kind of communal sacrifice to toss into the volcano. And sorry for mixing metaphors here, but it's never the priest who's thrown into the volcano, but instead always the virgin. When it comes to many church abuse cases, the sacrifice is a woman who can so easily be scandalized, or what is worse, the sacrifice is a child who can so easily be disbelieved and brushed aside and forgotten about. They are, after all, only a child, and they do all this while holding onto the hoped-for immutable integrity of the beloved pastor. At least Nathaniel Hawthorne didn't allow his church minister to get away with his sins. He was tormented for years in his silence and was too much of a coward, eventually facing the ultimate earthly consequence for his actions and the loss of his life. 

I wonder about our own abusive church ministers. Do they live with the weight of their sin? Are they tortured by it daily? Or are they oblivious to it and to the hurt they've caused, seeing themselves as the persecuted ones, the true scarlet letter wearers? At some point this past summer, in reflecting on how the leaders in my denomination were responding to this podcast, something utterly sobering occurred to me. I was being made to endure something church ministers like me so often have the privilege of avoiding. I was being fashioned with my own scarlet letter. Stop what you're doing. The faceless, nameless provincial leaders said, we'll take you and your bishop down by suing you and defrocking you. You will be publicly ruined and shamed if you don't stop, exposed on the scaffold for all to see. 

But I also realized something more dreadful. Through that whole process, they were treating me like the worst thing of all. They were treating me as if I were a woman. Is this how it feels to be a woman in the church? To be expected to obey and comply to the uttermost? To have my voice to silence because I was going against the will of the men? In being expected to submit, I had to accept my position as the compliant, dutiful wife or face the consequences. So I was told. In his earthly ministry, Jesus was decidedly counter-cultural in how he treated women and children, how he welcomed them and listened to them, and even how they proclaimed him after his resurrection. If Jesus introduced a new model for us, why does the church not follow? Again, I'll reiterate, what struck me is that I went from being treated like a colleague, like a peer, to being treated like a woman under the authority of her husband with no choice but submission. Or like a woman shunned and exiled by her community. 

This hit home for me this past fall, when my diocese held their annual synod. Do I show up there and create a stir like Hester Prynne coming back into the city from her isolated cottage in the woods? Do I cause all that trouble for myself and risk facing further scrutiny? Or do I avoid it by taking the easier route and just staying home? I did stay home this year from synod. But maybe at some point I'll need to be brave like Hester, who ventured into the city, pleading to be heard, standing up for the care and protection of her daughter. Maybe I'll have to stand up again at some point, pleading for all of the ACNA's abandoned and ostracized daughters, and yes, now are sons as well, those demonized and shunned because they dared speak out about the abusers in our churches. 

Before I began releasing The Wall of Silence, I recorded a conversation with my friend, political theologian Stephen Backhouse, and asked him about a concept he's developed, which he calls Black Magic. In my question leading up to his description of the concept, I mentioned the Radiohead song Burn the Witch, which in part describes a community complicit with a witch burning, a community needing a sacrifice, willing to punish anyone who falls out of line. 

I have heard you speak on, I don't know exactly where you came up with this, where was the spark, but you have this concept of how Black Magic works with systems of power. What I'm just kind of interested in you commenting on is what I have seen is a victim or maybe the parent or an advocate of a victim speaks up within the church, or maybe another pastor, maybe another pastor's had it. They're like, guys, we can't do this anymore. We have to address this abuse. What ends up happening is the leadership turns on those people. The metaphor in my mind is the Radiohead song Burn the Witch. What you've seen time and time again is somebody raises up a cry. We have to confront this abuse. Then the reaction is, look at the witch, look at the Jezebel, look at the demon. This is a demonic attack that has been brought into our midst. Now, what we want to say is, no, I'm addressing the demon, but now the leaders have turned me into the witch, into the demon. What do you make of those? 

So much. This could be an hour. This could be the long podcast. Okay. First of all, I really highly recommend that you and your listeners pay attention to Richard Beck and his book, Slavery to Death. I really recommend that you have a look at that book. He is looking very specifically at the psychology of what we would call principalities, powers and principalities, which isn't really spirits. It's more like institutions and the faceless forces which influence our life, which quite often at the time we invent them ourselves. So they are the institutions that we're a part of, the movements that we're a part of, the groups that we invent, and then those groups take over our lives. Right. And we sacrifice our lives to the furthering of the group and of the institution. And he's looking at that. He's a really interesting guy. He's a social psychologist and a theologian, and he is taking really seriously the idea of powers and principalities from the New Testament. 

And he's looking at them, I think, absolutely legitimately as talking about human structures as well as spiritual beings. And he's saying, why do these human structures and institutions, why do they command the allegiance that they do why do we constantly sacrifice human lives to keep these institutions going, which is exactly what's happening when a mother stands up and says, my daughter was abused. And the church says, you're the problem. You get out. That is the institution furthering its life at the expense of individual human beings. Right. And then the spiritual language comes in because the New Testament looked at that and said, that is a spiritual battle that we're now encountering. Paul says your struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against rulers and authorities. And when you see an institution, a power and a principality, kick people out or grind them up and then spit them out, that is a sacrifice. That is a God demanding a human sacrifice in order to survive. And now we're into pretty dark spiritual spirituality, actually, which is partly where where my language of black magic comes in. I was doing some work on the concept of kenosis. I'm a political theologian, so I'm really interested in the language of power and politics that we find, especially in the New Testament, especially how did Jesus deal with these things.

 And there's a very famous verse in Philippians two, where he talks about Jesus didn't consider equality with God something to be grasped, but instead he made himself nothing, or he put a limit on himself. And that word put a limit on himself is kenosis. And it has to do with like, how do you, how does a powerful person use their power? Well, and it doesn't mean having no power at all. It means using your power properly. And how they saw Jesus use his power properly was that he didn't dominate the room. So that word, he didn't see power as something to be grasped to his own advantage. That would be a form of power where you dominate the room, you kind of suck up all the power in the room and you gather it to yourself and you use it for your own advantage. But instead, they said Jesus was a powerful person who used his power. He put a limit on his power to make space for other people. He put a limit on his will to make space for other wills. Jesus said, not my will, but yours be done. He told his people to be servants to all he told lay down your life for your friends, right? It's constantly this language of kenosis, which is use your power to make space for other people. So it's the opposite is domination. 

Now the other, where black magic comes in is that if you're a student, if you ever kind of read any people who do black magic, who really do it, not like party tricks and not like Harry Potter, we're talking about like Alistair Crowley and an actual people who actually thought they were black magicians. It's all about domination with the will. It's all about if you can will something strong enough, then you can force the universe to bend to your desires. If your will is stronger than other people's wills, you can make them do what you want. So black magic operates on the principle of dominating the room with your power, with your will, and you dominate other people, you dominate other spirits, you dominate forces of nature, whatever you want. And what I noticed was all these churches, I was looking at specifically churches, but it does happen in any institution. But I was looking at specific, I was looking at these Christians, they love to think of black magic as a bad thing. And they love to think of themselves as on the force of good and all this. And they're always talking about spiritual warfare. And they're always bringing up Jezebel spirits and all this, they use that language all the time. 

But I was looking at what they actually did and how they carried themselves. And I was like, they're all about dominating things with their will. All these Christians who think they're engaged in spiritual warfare, they're like getting a whole bunch of people together, you know, to all shout in unison, and they're getting people to all shout, Amen, at something, or they're all they're thinking, if you can sort of command something in the name of Jesus, I command you. And it's all about command and domination and control, or it's all about getting everybody to speak with one voice at the same time. It's all, and I was looking at that, I was like, that's just black magic. 

That is what black magic is, you know, that is the way it works. You dominate with the force of your own personality. And that was the way so many I saw so many Christians run themselves. And that's how they use their power. And I was like, well, they're just black magic Christians, they don't know it, they don't think they are, but they are using their power in exactly the same way black magicians use their power. So then that leads to black magic institutions that leads to institutions that are about like, we have no space in this place for voices that don't agree with us. Right? We have only space in this place for one will. And that's usually the will of the most powerful person in the room. We don't, we're not creating spaces that involve weak voices to speak or alternate voices to speak or damaged voices. We only have the will to power. We only have might makes right. We only have the ends justify the means under the guise of righteousness. Jesus was his absolute harshest words were for people who thought they were righteous and are wreaking absolutely evil on on populations in the name of their own righteousness. Did we not do all these things in your name? And he's like, depart from me. I did not, I do not know you. And I noticed that happening. And you just see it happening all the time. 

What would a space look like if Christians actually acted like Jesus, if they actually had the mind of Christ, which the apostle Paul asked them to have in Philippians two, one of the things that they would do is they would create spaces which didn't dominate one voice, which didn't excise and, and, and eject any voice that disagrees with them. They'd create gentle spaces, not harsh domination spaces. So when I, when I, if I, if I see a poor woman standing up and saying, I've been abused, and then I see the institution come down on her and, and, and vilify her and kick her out or whatever, I see black magic. I see the institution using black magic power, not Christ-like power. Why do institutions treat the abused and those who speak up about abuse this way? The silence of my bishop and the supposed provincial leaders since then has been somewhat surprising. They have not yet made a sacrifice out of me. Although there is still plenty of opportunity to do that. 

Here's what I have seen. Priests who themselves have been abused or have had family members abused are the ones most vocal about holding abusive church leaders accountable and calling for changes within our institutions. But those whom abuse has not affected, they tend to remain silent to adhere to the predetermined carefully worded party line their bishops or senior leaders require of them. Or they disparage survivors claiming they only have petty grievances, such as complaints about women not being allowed to be leaders in the church or personal vendettas against their former clergy in church leaders. But as ministers who have experienced abuse, many of us are the ones compelled to speak up. 

I myself am particularly sensitive to this issue and have my own story to tell regarding my family history, but feel at the moment it's not time to speak publicly about that. But why is this the case? Why do we have to endure the horrors of physical and emotional abuse to be willing to speak out against it in our churches? My fellow ministers, does it have to be this way? Why your continued silence? Sure, let's let Bishop Ruch's trial play out. But what then will we continue to be silent in the midst of so much pain? I'll leave you with those questions for now, as both lay people and clergy in the ACNA wait for that official process to unfold regarding Bishop Stewart Ruch's presentment, even though it's not exactly clear what that process is. But July 2025 is vastly approaching. 

It is to explaining what is contained in Ruch's presentment that we will now head for the next set of episodes. My hope is that we can unpack for you with all truthfulness and somberness, how Mark Rivera's abuse case is only one piece of the puzzle of Ruck mishandling, miscommunicating, and directly taking part in enabling abusers in his diocese. But for now, I want to leave you with some hope. As I was preparing this episode, I was reminded of one of my favorite songs, called Work to be Done by Stephen Delampos, Van Burlap. There is work to be done, there is work to be done, Bow your head to the mission story. My fellow clergy, pastors, and ministers, there is work to be done in our churches to keep the vulnerable safe from abusers. All of us lay people in every church community, from Protestants to Catholic to Orthodox. There is work to be done to hold leaders accountable and to begin to learn how to build a culture of health and self-giving love where our children can grow. Let us bow our heads to the mission story and get to work. In our next episode, we turn to the presentment of Bishop Stewart Ruch.

If you believe in what the Wall of Silence podcast is trying to accomplish, please consider supporting us through our Patreon page at patreon.com/wallofsilencepodcast. I appreciate you helping to make this show a reality as we lift up the voices of church abuse survivors. 

The Wall of Silence podcast is produced and edited by me, Chris Marchand. Today's episode was also written in part by Audrey Luhmann and Abbi Nye. I also do the music and our artwork is by Alice Mitchlick. You can find her other work or commission a piece through her Instagram account, @mouthful.of.stars. Please rate and review the podcast on Apple, Spotify, or whatever podcast service you listen on. You can find a link to the transcript of this episode and through related links in the show notes. Thanks again for listening.