The Church is what we do next
This post contains mentions of abuse in the church. Support for survivors in the Anglican Church of Canada can be found at www.acctoo.ca
On Friday, Andi and I saw a film called Conclave. It’s a fictitious story—written as one that could very well be true—about the events surrounding the selection of a new pope. During the course of the election, the dean, who is responsible for convening the vote, uncovers a series of scandals that could rock the very foundations of the Roman Catholic Church.
As each of the scandals is made known to him, the dean must decide what he will do next with the information that is now before him. Will he dismiss the reports brought to him, brushing them off as “drunken speech” or “the talk of women”? Will he pervert the course of justice by failing to act, leaving the matter, as church officials are wont to do, “in God’s hands”?
At one point, the most unlikely candidate of the bunch—a cardinal named Benitez, who has been serving his episcopacy underground in Kabul—speaks up and says: “the Church is what we do next.”
We have in our reading from First Samuel this morning, a similar story of scandal and redemption. It bears all of the markings of a Hollywood blockbuster. There’s the underdog, who, for years, has been put down by her rival. There’s the cast of supporting characters whose seemingly innocuous actions pervert the course of justice. There is the “plot” on one level, and then the “grand narrative” on another—the bigger message behind the story.
On the surface, the plot of First Samuel chapter 1 is this:
A man has many wives. Among them is Hannah, who has so far been unable to conceive. She is ostracised, a social pariah among her peers. One day, after a family meal, Hannah goes up to the temple to pray. She is in what would later become known as the “Court of the Women”, the area below the Holy of Holies where the ark of the covenant was kept and where only (male) high priests were permitted to enter.
A priest by the name of Eli is sitting at the entrance to the temple. He sees Hannah from afar and assumes she’s drunk. He goes over and tells her to stop making a fool of herself. She corrects him, saying she hasn’t had anything to drink, actually; she’s been “pouring out [her] soul before the Lord” (a clever play on words equating the weight of her petition before God with the copious amounts of wine being drunk by her husband and the other wives back at the house).*
Now, what happens next is where we begin to see the bigger meaning, the “grand narrative” behind this story. Eli the priest has a choice: he can dismiss Hannah as so many others have done; or, he can honour her prayer. Eli chooses to lift up Hannah’s request saying, “Go in peace; the God of Israel grant the petition you have made to him.”
Hannah conceives, and we’re told that “her countenance was sad no longer”, which is a way of saying that justice had been served, her place in her family and community, restored.
This story brings into focus our responsibility to act when we hear the plea of someone or some group of people who have so far gone unheard. This week, we learned of the resignation of Justin Welby, the Archbishop of Canterbury, following his failure to act when allegations of abuse at the hands of lawyer and lay minister John Smythe were brought to him in 2013. Despite victims reporting the abuse to senior officials in the Church of England over the course of three decades, only now, 32 years after the first report was made, has their petition been heard. In October, a review was published detailing the mishandling and cover up of the victims’ reports. The resignation of the Archbishop of Canterbury last Wednesday represents one small act of justice, albeit one that was done after enormous pressure from the public and a fellow Bishop calling for his resignation.
I wish Hannah’s story, or the story of John Smyth’s victims, were one-off, exceptional examples of religious officials dismissing the petitions of vulnerable people. I’m afraid this isn’t the case and unless we begin to attend to the Hannahs in our own backyard, the culture of abuse and cover up in our churches will continue.
Nearly three years ago now, an open letter was written here in the Anglican Church of Canada to the Primate, the General Secretary, the Council of General Synod, and the Anglican Journal Board. The letter called on senior officials in the Church to rectify a breach of confidentiality that occurred when a draft article written by the Anglican Journal containing personal information of survivors was circulated by the General Secretary to the four institutions that mishandled their allegations. The letter called on the senior officials to: “1. Release the unredacted findings of the investigation to a representative chosen by the survivors; 2. Require the resignation of the ACC church official who circulated a draft of the Anglican Journal article to four institutions outside the General Synod office; and 3. Submit an apology for publication in the Anglican Journal that summarizes the investigation report, confesses wrongdoing, and presents a plan of action that is a worthy beginning of repentance.”
The letter was signed by the three survivors and 450+ people across the Anglican Church of Canada. To date, none of the commitments in the letter have been addressed.
Last week, bishops across the country posted statements in the wake of Justin Welby's resignation, reiterating the Anglican Church of Canada as a safe place to report. I desperately want this to be true; but, how can we say “we are a safe Church” when we mishandle the reports made by survivors and then fail to take responsibility for our actions?
On this very day, survivors stand in our churches, deeply distressed and praying to the Lord that their petitions would be heard. We can continue to dismiss and ignore them, or we can act. The Church is what we do next.
Amen.
Justice for Cydney Proctor, Survivor
Justice for Survivor B
Justice for Survivor C
*With thanks to Ericka Shawndricka Dunbar for the insight concerning Hannah “pouring out her soul to the Lord.” Accessed online 16 November 2024 at Working Preacher.