After the election last week, I had a discussion with a friend who voted in favor the Proposition 8, the proposition meant to undo the California Supreme Court decision to allow homosexuals to be married.  I asked her, “Why was it important for you to vote yes?” 

She responded with an answer that took me a little by surprise.  I was expecting her to tell me how much she disliked homosexuals, but that wasn’t her answer.  Rather, she said, “What bothers me is that the homosexuals are trying to redefine marriage.  That word has had the same meaning for thousands of years.  I can’t stand it when people change the meaning of words.”

When I heard her answer, it brought to mind another word:  forgiveness.   The Old Testament meaning of forgiveness is very clear.  In the New Testament, when Jesus, Peter, Paul and others spoke of forgiveness, they meant the Old Testament meaning.  Forgiveness is to be granted when the one who did the wrongdoing confesses, repents, and seeks to be forgiven.   The reason for this kind of forgiveness?  So that the relationship which was broken by the offense can be restored.

The apostle Paul also introduced a new concept to be used among believers.  The Greek word is charizomai.  It is translated “forgiveness” in many English translations.  It means to let the offense slide, to forget about the offense.  It’s an act of grace intended to be granted for “minor” offenses and sins (not major sins, especially those involving evil).  What is the purpose for charizomai?  Paul clearly states that Christians are to let minor offenses go to preserve unity and peace within the church.

Around the 1970’s and 1980’s, many Christian psychologists were looking for a way to help their patients who were having difficulty with past abuses (”sins” committed against them involving evil).  They got the idea to just tell their patients to “forgive” their offenders.  (Then the issue arose with incest survivors whose offending fathers had passed away, and their anxiety rose as they struggled with not having the opportunity to confront their dads with what they had done.)   These well-meaning psychologists suggested that if the patient just “forgave” they would get better.  They also suggested that the offending party need not be present for forgiveness to be granted. 

It’s unfortunate they used the word “forgiveness.”  There is a much better approach for accomplishing the task of moving on when you’ve been abused, and it is biblical.  It is the idea of forbearance, which involves longsuffering and patience with another, and allowing God to deal with our offender(s).  But that’s a whole different topic.

I’m not sure how it all emerged, but apparently among some Evangelicals there came a new doctrine of forgiveness.  They called it “letting it go.”   This new doctrine attributes all of the teachings about forgiveness by Jesus and the apostles to “letting it go.”  

After a little research, I found that “letting it go” is a doctrine taken directly from Buddhism.  It isn’t a Christian principal at all!  But even in Buddhism the idea of letting it go is more akin to Paul’s teaching of charizomai, not forgiveness.

I discussed forgiveness and “letting it go” with my friend, and asked why, if us Christians are so upset over California’s Supreme Court changing the meaning of marriage, why aren’t we upset that the meaning of forgiveness has been changed by Evanglicals?  I haven’t heard one Evangelical Christian stand up publicly and speak out against the changing of the meaning of forgiveness.

I went to a Christian college where sexual activity among coeds was strictly forbidden.  We signed a contract with the school vowing that we would refrain from such activity (along with a host of other taboos).  So when my friend told me he walked in on his roommate having sex with a female student, he was quite shaken up.  He described to me what he saw, and how the two partners were scrambling to get their clothes back on.  Then he said, “They weren’t having sex!  No!  I didn’t see them having sex!”

Many times when we witness something like that, we experience shock and betrayal.  To admit we saw what we saw places us in a position of responsibility.  In my friend’s case, if he acknowledged what he saw, he would then have to ”turn in” his roommate, knowing his roommate would be thrown out of the college.  If only his roommate hadn’t done what he did, then my friend wouldn’t have to take responsbility.  My friend (and the college) had been betrayed by his roommate.  Admitting he saw what he saw meant he would have to admit his roommate betrayed him, and the institution he believed in.

The same thing happens to innocent bystanders in a church where clergy sexual abuse happens.  Other staff members, church leaders, and congregation members might sense something is wrong.  They may even be eyewitnesses to the assaults.  I’m reminded of a church elder who literally walked in as the pastor was sexually assaulting one of his victims.   The elder didn’t do anything, and I wondered why.

We all want to believe that Christians, especially at “our” church are good people.  So when we see the pastor (or other respected church leader) doing something so heinous and unthinkable as sexual abuse, it’s hard to believe.  We go into a state of shock riddled with betrayal.  If we admit we saw what we saw, it places us in a position to take responsibility.  We have to admit we were betrayed: the “good” people and the “good” institution to whom we vowed allegiance are not so “good” after all.

Maybe that’s why God hates sexual sins so much.  It’s not just the “sin” of a very sick sexual predator.  It doesn’t just harm the victim(s)–harm that is far reaching, and takes years to undo.  It also affects others in their belief that the world is a safe place, that we can trust others to be who they say they are.  When it comes to a pastor sexual predator, many people relate God to the pastor perpetrator, thus preventing innocent bystanders from trusting God.   It could take years for any person affected by clergy sexual abuse to regain the ability to trust the church, or even God. 

Did the church betray us?  Yes and no.  No, I’m sure church leaders aren’t seeking to put sex offenders in their pulpits.  But many times, when witnesses come forward to report sexual abuse, the witnesses aren’t believed, or very little action is taken–if any.   So, yes, there are times when the church betrays us by covering up, and “protecting” the pastor perpetrators for whatever their reason.

Has God betrayed us?  No.  The one ultimately responsible is a crazed narcissistic psychopath, not God.  God does not betray His own; but rather loves His children. 

The statistics regarding clergy sexual abuse today are staggering.  Kathryn Flynn reports in her book, The Sexual Abuse of Women by Members of the Clergy, that the number of clergy sexual predators is as high as 37%.  That’s astounding.  That’s more than 1 in 3 pastors!

We need not be so much in shock when we witness the unthinkable.  It’s likely that any Christian who is involved in church will become a witness to clergy sexual abuse.  Did we really see what we just saw?  We probably did!  Admitting it is the first step in preventing clergy sexual abuse.

The three little monkeys sat motionless on the desk of my father’s CPA.  I thought they were cute.  I loved animals; so much so that I hardly noticed the position of their hands.  One was covering his ears, one was covering his eyes, and one was covering his mouth.  We’ve all seen these three little monkeys in one form or another.   As a child, I was struck by how unnatural it was for monkeys to be frozen in time in such vicarious and obvious positioning.   I asked my mom what it meant.  She wisely informed me:   “Stay away from evil.  Don’t get close enough to hear it, see it, or even speak of it.”

In my adulthood, and especially after my experience with clergy sexual abuse, I’ve sadly learned a different meaning to the wily threesome.  After having experienced the outright wrath and collusion of church leaders for standing up against clergy sexual abuse, I have come to see these three little guys as a metaphor for denial.  Those who have survived clergy sexual abuse have heard evil.  We’ve seen evil.  We’ve experienced the added wounds of others talking behind our backs about the evil that happened, despite “admonitions” by church leaders not to “gossip.”  (The admonitions were meant to stupefy the congregation to prevent further inquiry.  Further inquiry might lead to uncovering cover-up schemes.)  But it’s only human nature to talk about clergy sexual abuse, especially if you’re a congregant wondering what really happened.  Clergy sexual abuse survivors had no choice.  We were thrown into the evil schemes of evil men.   And it’s those evil men who would rather clergy sexual abuse survivors remain in the realm of darkness.  

If we convince ourselves to “tune it out,” “look the other way,” or “bridle our tongues” when faced with evil, then aren’t we really just denying the fact that the evil is present?  In my next several blogs, I’d like to explore the concept of evil, denial, and the impact that has on righteousness.  What should we do when faced with the powers of darkness?  What does it mean to “hear no evil, see no evil, speak no evil”?