In Part 1 I commented that this collection of liturgical resources shows a lack of sensitivity to issues common among survivors, despite the repeated claims that the work was ‘done together with survivors’. In the week since its publication, the grounds for this claim have become doubtful. I emailed the Bishop of Exeter, who wrote the introduction, last week to enquire which of the materials had been written or chosen by survivors. So far I have had no reply. It transpires that neither MACSAS (Minister and Clergy Sexual Abuse Survivors) nor the survivors on the NST (National Safeguarding Team) were consulted at any point. Worst of all, one survivor who is quoted was not asked for permission to use his material.
We have yet to discover the truth of how Towards a Safer Church was put together, but the Liturgical Commission has laid itself open to the charge of wanting to appear as if it is listening to survivors, without doing the work. Sadly this lack of honesty and reluctance to listen and understand is the common and consistent experience of so many of us. They have not yet learned that it won’t do. This collection of resources is not what we would have wanted to see, and does not reflect the insights we could have brought to the project if we had been asked.
In Part 1 of this blog I discussed ‘triggers’, the use of words, images, or concepts that remind survivors of the physical, emotional, or sexual abuse they have suffered. It will be obvious to anyone studying the resources in this collection that quite a lot of it contains triggers. The suggested hymn ‘O Lord, you search me and you know me’ is one example:
when [I] lie down, you are before me…
with everlasting love you besiege me…
there is nowhere on earth I can escape you…
Can you imagine how that sounds to someone who has been unable to escape the attentions of an abuser? It’s terrifying.
Another difficulty with the collection is what nowadays is aptly termed ‘othering.’ This is the attitude, ‘These people, who have been abused, are exceptions. They are not one of us.’ As a cathedral dean once said to me re. survivors: ‘People like that don’t come here.’ He was wrong – not only was he talking to a survivor, but it later transpired that several of the choirboys had been sexually abused by the previous dean. Child abuse of all kinds is common enough that it’s never safe to assume there are no survivors present in any gathering. When we add to that those who have been assaulted or abused as adults, it’s wise to presume that there will be survivors in attendance. They are not ‘other’, they are part of us.
‘Towards a Safer Church’ features two prayers headed ‘For survivors’ who are referred to throughout as ‘they’. Moreover, the prayers characterise survivors as experiencing ‘pain and vulnerability’; ‘darkness and loneliness’; ‘despair’; being out of touch with their ‘true selves’; and a lack of confidence. This very negative view is unlikely to encourage people to be open about their history. Our positive qualities – resilience, toughness, and (often) empathy with the powerless – should be named and given thanks for. Although the intention to pray for survivors is a good one, better prayers could be found or written. Janet Morley, Nicola Slee, John Bell, and New Zealand priest Erice Fairbrother are among those who have already written good liturgical material, and might write more if we asked them.
Here I want to ask a question which used to haunt me: has the Church nothing to offer victims apart from the forgiveness of their sins? Of course forgiveness is important – but what can we offer those who have suffered because of someone else’s grievous sin and crime? What I looked for here, and found mostly lacking, was a concern for justice. The Bible is full of God’s concern that justice be done on the earth, and justice characterises the Kingdom of God. We can confidently pray, then, that victims of abuse will find justice.
Finally, the constant emphasis on guilt in much of our liturgy is not helpful for many, perhaps, but especially for those who have suffered the false guilt and shame of abuse. Once the Confession has been said and absolution pronounced, why keep mentioning our guilt and unworthiness? Christ has dealt with that. Years ago, in an effort to maintain a more positive note, I wrote the ‘Prayer of Joyful Access’:
Jesus, brother, you sat down at table with women who sold their bodies, men who sold their souls, and those whose lives were traded by strangers. You ate with them, and when you broke the bread wine and laughter flowed As we feast with you now, may your bread strengthen us, your wine warm us, and your love cheer us for the days to come. Amen. (in Praying for the Dawn, Wild Goose Publications, 2000)
It speaks of the welcome Christ offers to sinners and victims alike, and the hope we have for the future. There is a wealth of good material we can and should be using. I will close with a few lines from one canticle, ‘As One who Travels’: But you have blessed me with emptiness, O God; you have spared me to remain unsatisfied. And now I yearn for justice; like an infant that cries for the breast, and cannot be pacified, I hunger and thirst for oppression to be removed, and to see the right prevail.
So while I live I will seek your wisdom, O God; while I have strength to search, I will follow her ways. For her words are like rivers in the desert; she is like rain on parched ground, like a fountain whose waters fail not. Then shall my soul spring up like grass, And my heart recover her greenness; and from the deepest places of my soul Shall flow streams of living water. (from Women Included, SPCK 1991. Unattributed)
Marvellous material, Janet. It certainly resonates with me. And thank you for introducing the concept of “othering”. Again, that really rings a bell. The idea that victims/survivors are somehow different from “normal” people. The church ‘s offering forgiveness to survivors is hard to take. I am not to blame. Why is the victim the only one with any obligations? We have to move on, it’s all in the past, we must learn to forgive. But apparently the perpetrator doesn’t have to stop, the bystander doesn’t have to step in, and the boss doesn’t have to act. Why is that?
Why? Because it’s easier for them. It saves our leaders the hard task of having to still their own minds and responses and listen from the heart. It means they don’t have to hear the distressing details, take responsibility, or have their theology questioned. It’s about them.
Indeed. It’s disgraceful.
Saw your letter and the editorial comment in the Church Times. Richard Frith is basically denying it. Insists there’s a survivor on the liturgical commission.
Janet, thanks for this pair of reflections.
Your point about othering is very resonant for me, since it seems to have the world upside down. By othering the survivors, the Church is continuing to cover for the abusers in its midst. It invites the question: where does Christ stand in all of this?
These resources remind me of a situation in my own life a few years ago. One of my relatives — a very outgoing, intellectually-disabled young man — was murdered by his stepfather. Two clergy appointed themselves as carers for me. They were more interested in monitoring and informing me about the legal processes, which had nothing to do with them, rather than hearing my sense of bewilderment and grief at this enormous trauma in my life. One of them had the temerity to tell me what a great pastoral carer they are. I was waiting for the portfolio of testimonials from satisfied customers.
One of those clergy then went on to make sexually suggestive comments about me, which is the point at which my trust ebbed out. When I complained about this, the safeguarding people immediately began re-interpreting his words as ‘misjudged’ rather than simply wrong and clearly in breach of the clergy code of conduct. I am still furious at how the whole affair was handled.
What stands out to me about how Anglicanism is behaving in England and elsewhere is the highly technocratic approach bishops and senior clergy bring to complex issues such as sexual abuse. These liturgical resources are an expression of that — they exist to ‘manage’ an ‘issue’ within the settled institutional framework of the Church. Technocracy doesn’t deal with complexity, and exists to flatten down ambiguity and diversity. I think this is part of why the emphasis on sin and forgiveness is so much to the fore in these liturgical resources — this is technocracy ‘doing’ ‘theology’!
Kyrie eleison–veni creator Spiritus!
Thank you, Janet, both for this and for the letter to the Church Times.
It’s shocking that it needs to be spelt out that “bishops should not deceive the church” but sadly I have found from my own experiences that “bishops should not deceive people, whether in the church or not” does indeed need to be said.
As I now have advanced cancer I recently e mailed my executors, cc’ing a couple of bishops, saying “However, you can both be truthful with [my children] – and everybody else – irrespective of any further deceit and cover-up in the church, and I trust that you will be.”
I never imagined that, as I approached the end of my life, I would be needing to explain to bishops why being truthful is important for healing/recovery but clearly it is necessary.
I’ll put you and your family on my prayer list, Jay. I’m sorry things are the way they are. I always find your contributions helpful.
Thank you Athena. I’m tempted to ask whether your prayers will be for me and my family or whether they might be for the bishops to have an outbreak of truthfulness… (Now there’s an idea for the “Towards a Safer Church” liturgical resources!)
P.S. If they are for the latter then it would help me and my family as well as many others too.
Perhaps we should be praying for bishops to retain their integrity and honesty in the face of all the pressures that seek to undermine these qualities – i.e. the pressure to protect and defend the institution that gives them their status and importance. ‘Management’ seems to mean pushing away anything that threatens the church. What we need rather than management or defensiveness is a great big dollop of prophecy. I am talking about prophecy that declares the truth – God’s truth -to the institution. I feel almost Old Testament as I try to imagine what God might want to say to the cover-ups and evasions of truth that are a feature of the present discussion. I feel a blog post being born!
Readers are supposed to do Teaching, Preaching, Liturgy and Prophecy! I don’t recall the module…..! Mind you, I’m just in the mood at present. The questionnaire is giving me trouble. Basically because I’m useless! But it’s beyond my skill to extract the actual questions from the overlong preamble. And if I print it off, the boxes are too small to write in. I shall have to overwrite it, but I’m not sure I can manage that. And I certainly won’t know how to email it afterwards. Wish me luck.
I look forward to reading it Stephen!
Kieran, thank you for your contribution. What a horrendous experience you have had! I think you are right about technocracy, not dealing with complexity and flattening down ambiguity and diversity. That’s a useful insight. And I guess a lot of that comes from the strategariat’s fear and pride.
JayKay8, I’m so sorry about your situation. You and your family will be in my prayers. And, yes, I’m also praying for an outbreak of honesty, humility & compassion among the bishops. ‘Almighty God, who alone workest great marvels, send down upon thy bishops the healthful spirit of thy grace.’ Amen!
Kieran Thank you for your contribution. You help us by being so straight-forward and open. It is hard to respond adequately to what you have shared. I am frankly shocked at your account of the clergy who have to tell you how wonderful they are at pastoral care. Why would anyone who really was wonderful want to say that? It is so appalling to think that there is such professional crassness around. As you may know I have been studying this phenomenon of clerical misuse of power for 20+ years and I fear that some of what passes for ‘vocation’ is a pathological desire to be and feel important. Such craving for significance seems to arise out of issues that can go back to infancy. Of course there are good clergy (and bishops!) but the system has no reliable means of moving on the harmful and harming individuals that lurk around in the system. The thing that would keep me awake at night if I were a bishop is knowing how some of my clergy were running amok in my patch creating damage and demoralisation among the laity. It is not just about sex; it is all kinds of other behaviour that cuts deep into the soul and does damage to victims. My problem is that the church does not understand how this happens so there are currently no systems to bring justice to the abused. It would be good if we could give justice to the sexually abused, but we cannot even do that. Bullying and generally incompetent behaviour are a long way from being faced. Stay with us. We need your insights
Thanks for your response, Stephen, and to Janet further up the thread!
The two clergy who appointed themselves as carers for me were also my employers, since I have been a church worker for most of my working life. At the risk of seeming like a troll, let me share a little more of the story.
Fr A, who made the sexual comments about me, had a few issues with people in the parish, such that when I was interviewed for the job I was asked what I’d do if the vicar had a brain snap (yes, those were the exact words). What I discovered was that if Fr A was in the office before I arrived for work my greeting would be met with silence, enquiries about how the weekend had gone would be met with a glaring silence, and any curiosity about his wellbeing was greeted with a ‘talk to the hand’ gesture. Basic everyday courtesies seemed like a foreign country. On top of passive aggression, he was prone to making cutting remarks about me when he had an audience. One incident I took up with him was when he declared he would not be attending a meeting the churchwardens had called. He then involved himself in the meeting, leaving me to take care of someone who had come to see him (and who had made an appointment). After three hours I gently interrupted the meeting to remind Fr A he had someone waiting to see him, at which point he informed the gathering that I liked to prattle and gossip, so I have to be watched. When I took this up with him a few days later he went very quiet, and began insisting on purchasing gifts for me. It felt like the script of the classic domestic violence scenario. At no point did Fr A take responsibility for his behaviour and acknowledge that he had acted badly.
Fr B was fond of reminding me — in addition to his estimation of his pastoral skills — that he was a good employer. By this he meant he had sourced a pro forma contract and filled in the blanks from the relevant award. When I disclosed Fr A’s sexual remarks about me to Fr B, and Fr A’s threatening comments surrounding the incident, Fr B waited a couple of weeks and made me redundant. Of the two, I think his behaviour was the most reprehensible, and it ended up throwing me straight back into the grasp of Fr A. He offered ‘pastoral care’ when he heard of my being moved on by Fr B, and ticked me off when I came to a meeting he insisted on me attending with a witness. I’d been expecting Fr A to make good on his threats and sack me. The purpose of the witness was to have corroboration of anything he might say in the process.
My learnings from the experience are complex and manifold.
One is never to accept pastoral care from a priest with whom I am in anything remotely like a professional or employment relationship. There needs to be a balance between equity and accountability, and this should include provision for pastoral care from someone well outside the ambit of the workplace.
I now no longer go to regular worship in any church where I have an active paid role.
I’ve worn through a couple of spiritual directors over the last five years, but I doubt I’d have survived without them. It’s saved me from being a bore to my friends and a burden to my family, and from total loss of faith through the welling tide of cynicism that’s inevitable in these situations.
Yet another is to distrust absolutely everything anyone involved in safeguarding says. They are fully complicit in the structures that enable and perpetuate abuse in churches, and as soon as you have an active complaint they are compromised because they will tell you they have a duty of care to the person you’re complaining against. I have no objection to the principle of that duty of care, but have no trust in the way it is exercised in practice. I knew my complaint was not being taken seriously when the safeguarding person began describing the sexual remarks made by Fr A as ‘misjudged,’ and they let him get away with writing an apology in the passive voice, initially in the third person, and mostly apologising for how my complaint made him feel! He took absolutely no personal responsibility for his words and their consequences. I was put under a lot of pressure to ‘forgive’ the priest as a condition of his apologising. I simply wanted the whole business done so I could quit and move on. Which is what I did, without making any response to the questions about whether or not I had forgiven him.
This is what I mean when I say the church behaves in a technocratic way. The whole structure of safeguarding is set up as a scaffold to the existing power structure. Like the technocratic governments that popped up after the fall of communism, safeguarding lacks the capacity to address the issues of people who have been abused in the churches.
And that’s the nub of the issue I perceive with the liturgical resources Janet has written about here. My outrage is that sin and forgiveness have been pulled into this at all. It’s the liturgical equivalent of signing a release from liability. I would have thought the church would have learned from past mistakes with settlement agreements, but clearly the Holy Spirit has a long furrow to plow.
We used to have an incumbent who didn’t speak when you were in the vestry preparing for a service. I turned up one Sunday to substitute for a warden whose mother had just died. No greeting, certainly no thanks, nothing. Weird.
The “way I feel” thing is standard, too. It’s probably in a textbook somewhere! To a casual observer, saying “I feel sad about this” sounds like an apology. But it’s not. And it’s not just an avoidance technique. It also dumps his sense of guilt right back on you, thus making you responsible for easing off in case you make him feel worse. If you don’t much care what happens next you can try the transactional analysis technique of not sticking to the script. Just come right out and say “if you feel bad well so you should” . I have no suggestions to offer if you want to keep your job. I never figured it out. They hold all the cards. I’m so sorry Keiran. I’m glad your spiritual directors have been good.
You’re right about the ‘I feel bad about this so don’t make me feel worse’ script.
However, I have some sympathy with the incumbent who wouldn’t talk in the vestry. Before I take a service and/or preach I just want to be quiet and focus. It’s never happened because I’m aware other people have their own needs, and besides I like people and want them to feel welcome. But it’s a bit like sitting an exam while surrounded by a primary school in full swing.
Oh yes, sure. But this was an hour before curtain up! He just had no social graces.
An hour! Gosh yes, no excuses.
I truly do not know how some people live with themselves.
I have just come across this very helpful article on how abusers groom churches, as well as their victims. https://www.christianitytoday.com/ct/2018/june-web-only/sex-offenders-groom-churches-too.html
Kieran, your strength in the midst of these terrible events is remarkable. You have my respect.
I have now had a response from the Bishop of Exeter, Robert Atwell. Bp Robert chairs the Liturgical Commission and wrote the introduction to ‘Towards a Safer Church’.
‘The resources that have recently been published were two years in gestation and have been collated from various sources, including the Methodist Church. As a matter of policy, where existing material is published under copyright, the Commission first obtains permission to use it and acknowledges this in its sources. Apart from that, in order to give its publications a high degree of coherence, it does not normally acknowledge or source the contributions of individuals, including members of the Commission.
We were grateful for the input of survivors in collating this material and for helping the Commission to ‘get the tone right’ as best we could. You will appreciate just what a sensitive area this is. The National Safeguarding Team helped facilitate their engagement. Throughout the process I did not know (and still don’t know) the names or backgrounds of those consulted in order to protect their identity. ‘
I will be responding to Bp. Robert. However, I will note here that I did not ask for the names of people who contributed material to the resources; I asked instead which material was contributed or chosen by survivors. So far that question has not been answered. Surely the Liturgical Commission must have that information? If they haven’t, they weren’t in a position to claim that survivors had contributed.
Standard technique. Change the question. So he can claim you asked a question that he couldn’t answer. They’re tricksy blighters.
I disagree, Athena and Janet. I think he did answer your question. He said that once liturgical resources have been published the CofE doesn’t attribute each part of it to whichever member of the committee, or group of consultants or interest group, suggested it in the first place – everything goes out in the name of the committee. It strikes me that the committee might not even know, as he clearly doesn’t, who suggested what at an early stage. I don’t think he’s being obstructive. Most committee reports and the like are similar: the Chair doesn’t afterwards offer a running commentary on where each line or section came from, the whole committee owns the whole report.
I don’t think so. We don’t need to know who said each sentence. Just that survivors were involved. By the way, there’s a letter in the Times from abuse survivors complaining that they have not been consulted by IICSA!
No, of course not, and I haven’t asked for a sentence by sentence breakdown. But it would be interesting and useful to know which prayers and liturgies were written by survivors. For one thing, it would help to distinguish the material intended for survivors from the material intended for the accused, repentant churches, etc.
Yes, I was agreeing with you! I think the Bishop has turned the question. He’s not addressing what you asked him to.
What would a constructive way forward look like to the survivors who signed the letter in the Church Times? A chance for them to review the liturgical material and request the removal of some of it? A chance for them to request that alternative material is included? Surely now is the time for survivors to state publicly what they regard as helpful, or at least the process of how to agree on the material, and see how the Liturgical Commission responds?
Olivia’s Dog, published liturgical material does actually attribute individual sections to named people: see pp. 818-22 of Common Worship and pp. 482-4 of New Patterns for Worship. There’s a section for credits to items from already published collections, and then a section for material not previously published, including some written by members of the Commission. And I recall that when General Synod was working on the eucharistic prayers, it was announced to the whole Synod that a named member had written a new eucharistic prayer overnight.
Putting together liturgical material is quite different from writing a committee report, particularly since in the C of E there is a concern that in its liturgy the different wings of the Church all have material they are comfortable with. This is why we have eucharistic prayers reflecting both high and low churchmanship and everything in between – while the Scottish Episcopal Church’s eucharistic prayers reflect the Church’s seasons rather than its differing ecclesiologies. Necessarily there must be an awareness of sources.
The statements put out when Towards a Safer Church was launched claim certainty about survivors having contributed, with the implication that a number of survivors were involved. In order to make this claim, surely they knew who had contributed what? I haven’t asked for names – survivors often want to preserve confidentiality – but it would be good to know which items had been suggested or written by survivors.
In principle I don’t disagree, but I wonder how it would help to have this information. Not all survivors will agree on what is helpful. As you point out below, there are many different forms of abuse. I would add that what people finds helpful will probably be as individual as they are. Things that might be helpful for one might trigger another unbearably. Unless you think that all survivors think alike and all will have the same reaction to the materials that you have, I think that concentrating on who wrote, suggested or authorised particular materials is not particularly useful. I think arguments about the material itself are more constructive. No set of pastoral liturgy is ever going to meet everyone’s needs; there are bits of all liturgies that some people will always find unhelpful and (and here I tread carefully because I’m aware I’m on sensitive ground) liturgy is not therapy and it is impossible to avoid all triggers and to meet all emotional needs through it.
I agree that survivors will react differently to various items, and in fact made that point in some detail in Part 1 of my blog. That’s why wide consultation is necessary, and also why the context in which the resources are presented is important.
However there are some features of TASC that will be widely experienced as difficult by survivors – especially the inclusion of a prayer for someone falsely accused, and the heavy emphasis on repentance and forgiveness. A number of survivors have contacted me to mention these and other issues.
I am well aware that liturgy is not therapy, but liturgy has the power to build up or break down; to enlighten or confuse; to heal or to cause more pain. I would like the Church’s liturgy to build people up rather than break them down.
JayKay8, I can only speak for myself at this point. I have written to Bp. Robert suggesting it would be good to have some resources especially for survivors (i.e. not including items for the accused, commissioning safeguarding officers etc). This should be put together by a group of survivors, in my view, and there should be wide consultation among survivors the Church is already in touch with – including of course MACSAS and the survivors on the NST.
Input from a number of people is necessary because abuse within a church setting or by a church officer affects people differently from abuse in a secular context; and again, experiencing abuse as a child is different from being abused as an adult. As I argue in the blogs, settings, circumstances, the degree of trust betrayed, and other factors all make a difference too.
I wonder if Stephen would be willing to host suggestions for such a collection?
Thank you Janet. I think the more control survivors have in this exercise the better. After all, those who have been abused have experienced loss of trust, communication and control, so being empowered to reclaim some control and communication should help in the rebuilding of their trust.
I would suggest that survivors should go ahead with providing what they view as helpful liturgical material irrespective of what Bp Robert or the Liturgical Commission say and, if necessary, publish it as an alternative version. If the survivors’ output is rejected by the church structures, so be it!