The Double Scourge of Abuse & Protecting the Machine Instead of Victims
A series of essays on how the Church has mishandled allegations & lost a generation
Part One Intro
In February of 2014, a former coworker and trusted friend was arrested for multiple counts of abuse against minors. I will spare you the grotesque specifics.
A decade later now, I confess exact times and dates have been shoved into some corner of my mind where I put things that trouble me. No need to dwell on specifics when the overall memory has transformed my thinking so completely.
After the arrest, much of what I believe about the Church — the Machine, that is…the bathwater, not the baby — was challenged. The entire shameful saga is chronicled expertly in this newspaper article published in 2015. I caution you that it is raw, comprehensive, and potentially triggering for some. But again — the particulars are not the focus of the short series of essays I want to bring forth over the next few weeks.
Instead, I would like to invite you to consider ways in which you can engage with your community to ensure that policies and procedures are adopted to guard against predatory behavior. Furthermore, I would like for everyone to commit to protecting people and not power structures when accusations and allegations are brought forth.
How Not to Do It
If you want a lesson in how churches should not respond when confronted with potential wrongdoing in the midst of their communities, look no further than First Christian Church of Florissant (MO) — now named Christ First after a post-controversy re-brand. This pattern is all too common after abuse allegations are raised from within a congregation or Christian organization:
Release a statement which distances the machine from the abuser
Adopt a “One Bad Apple” justification strategy
Directly and aggresively oppose anyone who challenges authority
Overspiritualize the legal and emotional process that follows
This cycle may save some institutions, but the carnage of humanity left in the wake is both deep and wide.
Consider the first point on distancing. Below is a quote pulled from a press release after the arrest of the coworker (in 2014) I mentioned above, issued by the church leaders.
Having just heard of these charges from something that happened in 2007, our first concern is with how we can best help any victim heal. The charges point to a time when as a college student he served in a part time role as an intern. For the last several years he has been living in another state. We have a justice system who can do the investigation and we will assist them any way we can as our church family works through this.
In this instance, “just heard” is false. Allegations had been brought to leadership in 2011 and 2012. Also, “something that happened in 2007” is not factual — it was not a one-time instance, but ongoing (which the charges reflected). Additionally, naming him as a part-time intern betrays the visibility and access he was given congregation-wide. And the “last several years” was false, too. But institutions are advised to distance themselves as much as possible, and they do it every time.
Another feature in this all-to-common machine protection project — overspiritualizing. You’ll often here institutions talk about how “the enemy is attacking,” or that “the world wants us to be divided.”
The focus in either case is protecting the organization and their leaders. The goal is keeping the corporation together, not helping those who have been harmed.
What Can We Do Instead?
My goal is not to simply point out the flaws in how these things have traditionally been handled. Rather, we must pave a new path forward. If what usually occurs doesn’t work, what could we do instead?
Consult experts. Having engaged in a legal battle with the church mentioned above exposed me to various groups who specialize in helping churches navigate instances of abuse (child sexual abuse, in particular). Pastors often have no training in social work, counseling, or law. Let people who know what they’re doing inform these things.
Don’t gain the world and lose your soul. Let me say it plain — most senior pastors of churches of any size are earning six figures. They oversee multi-million dollar budgets. They operate on properties worth tens of millions dollars. They’ve amassed great influence and power. The temptation to protect their kingdoms is often too strong to do the right thing. It’s sad, but I swear to you it is true.
Learn from previous mistakes. The fortunate consequence of the unfortunate, pervasive nature of church-based abuse is that we have storeis and data available to help us be better. My friend Joy Taylor wrote this great book on the incident I name above (disclaimer: I wrote the forward). Other voices include Julie Anne with the Spiritual Sounding Board, who herself was sued by a congregation for acting as a whistleblower. Churches should not struggle to find help. It is avialable.
In 2014 my former coworker and friend was arrested. News came to light that church leaders knew enough in 2011 and 2012 about him to have acted on accusations. I was given that information in the fall of 2014. I spoke out. In 2015, I was sued for calling for accountability. Later in 2015, the movie Spotlight was released. It chronicles a journalist’s pursuit of accountability for the Catholic Church’s global abuse scandal. It won Best Picture in 2016.
My wife and I went to see it. It is not an enormous spoiler to tell you how it ends — a phone is ringing in the newsroom. It is ringing and ringing and ringing. Another tip against a priest somewhere, we assume. Another victim with a horrific story they are ready to tell. Another opportunity to do the right thing. It’s an invitation, that scene, to us all. To answer the phone. To listen. To believe. To choose people over institutions.
I cried and cried and cried as the credits rolled. Because of what we’d been through the previous year — yes, a little.
But more because the phone just keeps ringing and ringing and ringing. And we keep choosing the Machine instead of abused kids.
My prayer: God, damn that attitude. That instinct. That evil obscuring of justice and righteousness. Damn it straight to hell where it belongs.
Be well — tjb