It’s been encouraging to hear many witnesses at the ICSA Anglican Hearing call for safeguarding decision-making to be removed from church hierarchy, especially bishops. The main reason given for this was the lack of professional training and experience to make such decisions. This point was perfectly illustrated on Day 3 of the hearing by the Bishop of Chester. He remained unable to accept that someone with 8,000 child pornography images on his computer, 800 of the worst kind, convicted of 17 offences, was never again going to be suitable to have a clerical role. Challenged about his decision, it was painful to see him squirm, either unable to see the errors in his judgement or to take responsibility for them. If I wasn’t more concerned about the children who were abused, tortured and exploited to make those images, I could almost feel sorry for him. I think that denial came from a triggered shame mechanism. He needs to read Brene Brown.
Survivors know all about shame, although ours comes not from our own errors, but from the struggle to make sense of trusted figures treating us so horribly. Parents/vicars/youth workers are always right and good, so it must be me that is bad. I can tell him all about the shame of internalised worthlessness, having spent many nights awake wondering if one of these images on someone’s computer is of my younger self. On second thoughts, I don’t feel sorry for him at all.
A second reason witnesses gave for removing decisions from Bishops was the conflict of interest in their role. I was glad to see this recognised, as it is something I have been banging on about for some time. Bishops are heavily invested in the institution, so the instinct to defend it is strong and of course it is their role to do their best for their diocese. They cannot just be focused on the best interests of the survivor. They also have pastoral responsibility and oversight of their clergy, which places survivors at best third on their list of priorities. That pastoral oversight – which is needed by the clergy and congregation involved in any allegation of abuse, as well as the person being abused – cannot be exercised freely and wholeheartedly if you are also the person being judge and employer.
There is a safeguarding decision that needs to be separated from internal responsibilities and taken by safeguarding experts. There is an HR decision that equally needs to be taken by someone with relevant HR expertise. Is this an issue of competence or character? Is this person still fit to practice? Then there are pastoral needs, of the victim, the congregation, the colleagues and family of the abuser, both during and after the investigation. This is where the pastoral and leadership skills of the bishop should be free to shine, strategically in terms of ensuring there is support for survivors and parishioners, practically in terms of supporting those in ministry and their families.
Even here there is a conflict of interest, one that I believe is shared by Diocesan Safeguarding Advisers. When you have been abused by someone in an institution such as the church, you are understandably wary of any authority figure in that institution. You are aware that, as already mentioned, the authority figures have an agenda based on their institutional responsibilities. The DSA is not just there for you as the victim. They give advice to the Bishop about how the church should respond. They are, usually, on the pay roll of the Diocese. They are part of the investigation and make best interest decisions
I have worked with looked after young people for many years and it is similar to the relationship they have with their social workers. However sympathetic social workers may be, their role includes decision-making based on the law, the LA budget and what they consider is in your best interests. This may not be what you want to happen. So you don’t always see them as your trusted friend and ally through the care maze.
In the early days of Survivors Voices, our survivor-led support, education and advocacy organisation, I led a couple of workshops for Safeguarding Advisers from church and voluntary organisations to highlight this very issue. They unearthed the tension between supporting survivors and being concerned about the rest of the institution. These conversations were part of the path to the authorised listener role.
Sadly, that has not been enough. Survivors need advocates who can advise them of their rights and guide them through the complicated and painful process of reporting, often simultaneously within church and state procedures. We need help to access trauma-informed therapy and recovery support, not just for a few hours or weeks but often years. We need bishops, clergy and lay workers who are safeguarding savvy, survivor-sensitive and trauma-informed. who listen, listen, listen and work with survivors and families to create safer spaces and good practice together. We need a culture and theology that has the vulnerable child in the centre, not just in a kitsch nativity scene but in the coreopsis our being and practice. We need worship and theology that is sensitive to triggers and the impact of spiritual abuse, that doesn’t re-abuse with shame, forced forgiveness, silence, inappropriate talk of reconciliation, stigmatising mental distress, indifference, resistance to taking responsibility and to change.
If you have been abused by your biological father and by your male priest, it is hard to see the communion offered to you in the hands of another male father figure, as the restorative succour of Christ, not another penetration by your abuser, a bribe to stay silent, a tainted gift. We need new survivor-informed and survivor-led worship and liturgies, safe spaces that explore a gentler theology, bring compassion, justice and shalom to the heart of our relationship with God.
If the church really cared about survivors, these are the kinds of support it would be providing. If the church really cared about survivors, we would be talking about justice and survivor theology and preventing spiritual abuse, about healing retreats and trauma-informed ministry and therapy services and restitution and reconciliation (as a broken church, NOT survivor-abuser), not policies and procedures and lawyers and insurers. If the church really cared about survivors there would be outpourings of sorrow and apology and compassion, from sharing the agony of abuse like Christ hanging with us on the cross, the place of love and anger and accompanying.
I believe there are many Christians, like me, that do really care and are passionate and committed to change things. As more survivors speak out, the path of change is clear. So why do we survivors still cry out, how long? The enquiry talked a lot about deference, but I think it needed to focus on resistance. Why do the leadership resist and why do the rest of us not rise up in revolt? Abuse is not about a few hundred thousand survivors, who they secretly wish would shut up and go away, a distraction from the church’s mission. Abuse is about our fundamental relationship with each other, about war and poverty and gender-based violence, climate change and pollution, our abuse of the earth and all living creatures. Until we all stop resisting our collective responsibility for ending global abuse, no safeguarding project or policy change will be enough. This is the real mission of the church.
Jane Chevous, Co-founder of Survivors Voices, www.survivorsvoices.org
Excellent piece, Jane. You employed an intriguing image here, though I suspect it may have been auto-correct: ‘ not just in a kitsch nativity scene but in the coreopsis our being and practice.’ Coreopsis is a daisy-like flower so I was visualising a golden centre with bright radiating spokes. Apt.
Years ago I wrote a couple of articles about worship and the sexual abuse survivor. They didn’t seem t o get much attention at the time – no one wanted to know about abuse then (many still don’t, but it’s getting harder for them to hide their heads in the shifting sand.) One thing I said was that it can be difficult for a survivor who was forced into oral sex, to have to kneel at the communion rail with their face level with a male priest’s crotch, while he pokes that stiff white wafer into their mouth. I’m glad you’ve highlighted those issues too.
I also wrote a chapter on ‘Victims, the Gospel, and Common Worship’ communion liturgy in our new book ‘Letters to a Broken Church’. When you look at it closely, you realise how subtly the gospel message is twisted in our liturgy, in ways that aren’t helpful for survivors and victims.
Placing the wafer in your hand, which is what I’m used to, and wearing robes solves two problems. I wouldn’t want to be eyeball to fly zip with a visible crotch bulge anyway! And imagine faded jeans! Or of course, remain standing.
I have always placed the wafer into communicants’ hands, but in some churches the tradition is that communicants aren’t allowed to touch the bread and wine; the priest puts the wafer on the communicant’s tongue, and the server tips the chalice against their lips . This is where it can get problematic for survivors, especially since they aren’t given a choice. It’s issues like these that I think churches need to be more aware of.
Indeed. Giving someone communion can be an intimate moment. It’s easy to see how intimacy can mean bad memories for some people.
The principal concern referred to above should not arise if the celebrant is properly vested and ensures that any assisting lay minister who is distributing is decently attired. Both are requirements of the Canons of the C of E.
The BCP Order for the Administration of The Lord’s Supper or Holy Communion actually stipulates that the host is to be delivered to the Communicants “into their hands, all meekly kneeling”. Standing is a reasonable and sensible alternative for some people (and is my personal preference) although the rubric does not strictly permit it, but by implication, at least, it must be permissible for people who cannot kneel, or have great difficulty doing so. Receiving the host on the tongue may be preferred by some but there is no authority that any C of E church can lawfully exercise a ‘tradition’ which denies reception in the hands.
I believe the Roman Catholic Church (arguably) handles this better. The host can be received standing or kneeling, and in the hands or on the tongue.
Vestments might not make that much difference – the communicant is still kneeling in front of those ministering holy communion. And if the local church’s custom is to place the wafer on the tongue, the communicant is hardly in a position to argue about it at the altar rail.
Some survivors have said this is a problem for them, and I think the Church needs to sensitive to it.
It certainly does. It should surely be possible to listen? It’s bad that people don’t.
In those circumstances the diocesan bishop should intervene and enforce observance of the Canons – they aren’t optional! Obviously the bishop needs to be told about any irregularity.
As I said earlier, the RC Church has things to teach us on this subject.
But to complain to the diocesan bishop would take a degree of assertiveness that most survivors can’t manage. And it would almost certainly make them unpopular in their own parish.
This is just one of a number of issues that I think clergy need to be alerted to, so we can make our churches more welcoming for survivors. I found that some are uncomfortable with all the handshakes and hugging of the Peace, so used to announce that people were welcome either to exchange a ‘sign of peace’ or to stay where they were and pray. Many introverts and shy people were happy with that too.
I accept that, of course, and the same thought had occurred to me after posting my reply. But how do we persuade the particular incumbent(s) to distribute the host in the way which we would wish? And might there still be difficulties with other members of the congregation if the incumbent ‘compromised’?
In other words, how is the message to be got across to both clergy and congregation?
I think we need to be discussing it in every forum we can, including this one, until people become more aware.
As one who habitually receives the Blessed Sacrament directly onto my tongue whilst kneeling, in churches where that is either the norm or certainly not uncommon, I have never known a priest not deliver the Sacrament into someone’s hands if their hands are presented. I cannot imagine a situation, in an Anglican church at least – however far ‘up the candle’, where the priest would refuse.
The whole format of receiving Communion in both the Church of England and the Roman Catholic Church reinforces deference, indeed submission, to the minister. The Baptist approach is vastly superior – see https://www.teddingtonbaptist.org.uk/tbccommunion.htm – and would resolve most of the issues raised in the comments above
Surely deference is for the Holy Sacrament, and receiving it, not for the priest or minister. I think the rubric in the BCP says as much.
The Baptist “approach”, also used by other Free Churches, I believe, isn’t really consistent with Anglican doctrine or tradition.
Digging around in my memory banks, isn’t remaining standing ok in re the reformation? Anyway, we can change!!! Slowly maybe!!!
I always stand (not for the reasons being discussed above) and receive in the hands. It is reassuring that Richard believes that no Anglican priest would refuse giving the Sacrament in the hands. (One doesn’t want to go down the route of being too legalistic, but the BCP rubric is clear about reception in the hands.)
Yeah, I stand these days. Basically because they’d need a block and tackle to get me up again!