November 21, 1999
Rev Andrea Harrison
Gospel Readings: Luke 2:41-47; Mark 10:13-16 (for children’s story)
Responsive Reading: Psalm #130
Hebrew Scripture Reading: Genesis 37:12-30; 39:1-5
It’s difficult to believe that brothers would leave their kid brother in a pit to die, and then sell him as a slave when the opportunity for making money presented itself. It’s difficult to believe that children can be sexually assaulted in their own homes, schools, arenas, and churches. It’s difficult to believe that our neighbourhood priest of a few years back, Father Charlie MacDonald, has been charged with sexually abusing children, not to mention the whole ring of prominent men in Cornwall – doctors, business men, lawyers, politicians, and others who have been named in what is now being called Project Truth. It’s hard to believe that when 10,000 workers came to build the Seaway, that that created a market for selling children for sex.
These stories are hard to hear, especially for those of you who know victims or perpetrators, or are a victim yourself. But now that Project Truth is proceeding, now that there are so many stories being told, now that abuse can no longer be denied, there is an opportunity to face this reality – to face it in such a way that those who have been hurt can tell their stories, and be heard and believed. That in the telling and hearing of the stories, there might be healing, and we might all learn how to prevent such atrocities from happening again. We might learn to pick up on the cues, to trust our gut instinct, or to have the courage to speak out or act when someone comes to us for help.
Part of our training as clergy now, in the United Church anyway, includes workshops and discussion on issues of power, abuse of power, sexuality, and sexual abuse. There is an attempt to speak about the issues openly, to keep us all aware, to create a climate where both victims and potential abusers will seek out help. The aims are prevention of abuse, and recognition of the need for healing in our society.
During the workshop on sexuality and abuse of power, that I attended when at Queen’s Theological College, I picked up a number of book resources, including this book, entitled, Don’t Make Me Go Back, Mommy: a child’s book about satanic ritual abuse. This book is written to be read by children who have been subject to satanic ritual abuse. It’s written to help them to know that what happened to them was bad, but that they are good. More and more such resources are becoming available to help individuals and families on the healing journey.
As I was reading this book at the book table, a classmate approached me, and we started talking, and she told me that her father, a Protestant minister, and the church elders used to sexually abuse her. So in case we Protestants are tempted to look scornfully at the Catholic Church and its priesthood, we need to be mindful that such abuses occur just as readily in the Protestant Church.
Stories of abuse are difficult to tell and to hear. Sometimes they are even difficult to remember. It still seems amazing to me that memories of childhood abuse can be repressed, and then slowly or suddenly emerge in adulthood. I have one friend whose memories were triggered by watching the movie To A Safer Place. I’ve also heard a couple of stories on CBC radio about women remembering childhood abuse. One woman described having a recurrent image of seeing a strip of light shining underneath a door. This image made no sense to her because this strip of light was above her. She puzzled over this until she realized that this would have been the view she would have had of light shining under the door to the basement in her childhood home, as she lay on the basement floor being raped by her father and others.
Another woman told a story of awakening in the night to find her body writhing in an unexplainable way. Over time, she realized that this was a "body memory", and that her body was reliving the experience of being raped as a child.
This is "crazy" stuff. No wonder survivors of abuse are tempted to think that they are going crazy. Unthinkable acts perpetrated against them lead to unthinkable symptoms. Who would want to talk about stories that no one wants to hear or believe, or symptoms that seem bizarre or crazy? Who would want to risk the public scorn?
I don’t know if any of you watched the Sheldon Kennedy Story when it was on TV a month or two ago. He was the hockey player for the Boston Bruins, who lead in charges against the hockey coach of his youth, Colin Janes. Janes was found guilty, but the names of the victims were not released to the press or the public.
In the movie, you see Sheldon Kennedy, father of a young child, leaving the courthouse with his wife. He stops at the bottom of the court house steps, and watches another child playing outside. He leaves the safety of anonymity and walks back up the courthouse steps to talk to the reporters. He tells them that he was one of the victims, and that he has decided to go public, because he doesn’t want what happened to him to happen to anyone else. Sheldon Kennedy, like Joseph of the Bible story found himself in a position where he could reach out and help others, and in doing so, was able to rise above the abuse that had been perpetuated against him.
When it came to the next hockey game, following his disclosure, Sheldon was not sure if he was going to be shunned by his team. To his surprise, his team members supported him, and congratulated him for having the courage to come out with his story. Then, perhaps even more surprising, as his name was called, as he came out onto the ice in Philadelphia, the crowd gave him a standing ovation. Captain of the Philadelphia Flyers, Eric Lindross, came over and shook his hand.
Are we, or would we be that supportive of those who come forth in our community to tell their story? If St. William’s/St Mary’s ever decided to have a service of healing and reconciliation, would we be supportive, or would we just look over our shoulder and say, "I’m glad it’s them and not us."? I think that old adage, "If we’re not part of the solution, we are part of the problem" runs true here.
Sexual abuse can happen anywhere, and unfortunately, I think the place that kids are still probably most at risk is in their family homes. Beyond that, there are all kinds of other situations in which abuse could take place. The setting for satanic ritual abuse in this book is the day care centre. Then there are babysitters, coaches, teacher, doctors, camp counsellors, and the list goes on. How can we be sure of our children’s safety?
The United Church of Canada is now working on a code of conduct – standards, training, and inspection – for all care organizations working under the United Church name. This will mean effort and expense, but will hopefully be a move to help keep our children safe in United Church environments.
Perhaps one of the best things we can do is to talk openly about these issues. I’m sure that after the Sheldon Kennedy story broke, there were kids who were able to take courage and tell someone that they were being abused or scared by someone. Silence serves no one, except perhaps the perpetrator. But then, those who perpetrate these crimes have often been similarly abused, and have not had opportunities for healing, so the cycle of violence continues.
We each have a responsibility to break the cycle of violence, and help a cycle of healing. All of us know victims, whether or not they have told us their stories. Many of us know perpetrators. We cannot turn a blind eye or a deaf ear. Children and adults pray to God to liberate them from the abuse and the despair. They wonder if God hears their prays, or cares about them. Unfortunately, God does not reach down directly with his powerful hand, or lift these people out of their life circumstances and embrace them to her bosom. It is up to us to be God’s hands, and to hear what God hears and see what God sees. When people ask if God cares, it is up to us to show a compassion that mirrors God’s compassion, and through our caring, to answer "Yes, God cares, and so do we!"
