Survivors' Voices: Advice for Bishops, Part 2
This week, I’m sharing additional reflections from survivors on the topic “Advice for Bishops.” Part 1 of this post can be found here.
Some of these are written less as direct advice to bishops and more as reflections on personal experiences with bishops, but I think we can all see the dos and don’ts implied here.
Dear bishops - The impact of trauma includes physical changes to the brain and body. No, we can't just "get over it" or "let that go." Geniune healing is needed. That should be a simple opportunity for you as bishops to step into. To lead the Church as a source of healing. Yet, somehow, you have forgotten that the answer to the problem is Jesus Christ. You'll close ranks and pretend that I and others like me don't exist. (Not of God.) You'll work to silence us. (Not of God.) Throw money to make us go away. Say "Let's get this thing behind us." Stepping over the truth-telling and avoiding the difficult work of healing will never bring this to an end.
Let more trauma-informed bishops lead a workshop on listening to victim-survivors. I don't understand the cognitive dissonance among bishops and religious superiors who see shepherds harming sheep and then protect the offending shepherds. I think it's going to take brother bishops/superiors to break through the mental dam that seems to be occluding an appropriate, effective response.
Consider this: Priests are highly privileged individuals, socially speaking. The height to which they enjoy deference depends on the context (more deference in a religious context). A priest or church minister takes their education and leadership advantages with them everywhere, regardless of whether the advantage is acknowledged. There's no excuse for a priest to be engaged in any kind of misconduct, especially intimate forms. Priestly misconduct is gravely disordered and shouldn't be tolerated. No excuse.
I reached out by email to our local bishop with some concerns regarding the parish my abuse took place in. He responded with an invitation to sit down and talk. It was slightly uncomfortable at times, but I did feel listened to. He has since reached out a couple of times to ask if I would like to participate in a few prayer services, to ask advice, and just to offer support. I believe that all began because of my initiation and honesty. He understood when I declined offers and was happy when I responded positively. He does not avoid me, which is nice, and even seeks me out if we are in the same place.
Non-disclosure agreements that are used to silence victim-survivors are weapons used to suppress the wounded and vulnerable. Use of NDAs by the Church is deplorable and scandalous. When you must hide the truth or hide from the truth, it is time to examine your motives. Hiding the truth is the definition of deception.
For the last almost four years, I have been blessed with the pastoral care, compassion and incredible support of our bishop where I live. My first meeting with him came only a month after he was installed as our new bishop. My therapist and spiritual director came along. I was so nervous and apprehensive, but he was beyond wonderful. That first meeting with him (there were many others that followed) lasted three hours. He made it so easy and so comfortable to share my history with him. He let me cry when I needed to, he was quiet when that was needed, and offered good feedback. He told me he would support me every step of the way when it came to contacting the diocese where my abuse took place.
My experience with the bishop from that diocese was just the opposite. After sending my documents through confidential mail, I received a cold dismissal letter back from him less than three weeks later. It stated that my allegations were found to be "not credible." My advocates and I have proof that he lied to me on more than one occasion. To make matters worse, not a single person from that diocese has ever reached out to me. The cover up continues all over. I have been treated so poorly and so non-pastorally by the offending diocese that it's reprehensible. It is quite literally just as painful as dealing with my abuse itself.Dear Bishop, my biggest hope is that in dealing with the abuse crisis in our diocese, you avoid a common temptation in leadership. This is the temptation to say, “I just want to show the world the glory of our church, I would rather not stay in the humiliation of what has happened in the abuse crisis.” The church is built on the rock of St. Peter. Yet even St. Peter, so quick to identify Jesus as the Christ, could not accept that the Messiah would “suffer greatly”. You can almost hear St. Peter ask, “Can’t we just move forward in triumph, Jesus?” But Jesus rebukes Peter’s negotiation harshly: “Get behind me, Satan. You are thinking not as God does, but as human beings do.” We are thinking as humans do today when we imagine that the abuse crisis is an inconvenience to the triumphant progress of the church. No. The scandal of the present moment is that the Church by and large keeps wanting to move on, while many of us are still suffering, twice hurt by those in Church leadership: first by abuse, and again when we tried to seek a shred of justice. I ask you to draw near to survivors, and so draw near to Christ, who suffered for us all. Please invite the rest of the church to draw near to us in love as well. As you draw near to us, please listen to our experiences. It will often not be easy: there are so many things that should never have happened. It will take time, energy, prayer, and so much grace to allow healing to happen. You cannot control this process, but you can help the church be well disposed towards it. Among us, you will also hear many stories of strength, of post-traumatic resilience, of astounding faith. Don’t be afraid to open your heart.
Thank you for reading, and for opening your heart to these voices.
With gratitude,
Sara