When we perpetuate the abuse our God hates

I felt a particular type of awkward shame when reading Julia Baird and Hayley Gleeson's latest piece on domestic violence and religion. Objective in its reporting yet damning in its implications, the report threw a spotlight on both tender and tinder spots for Australian churches. 

Failing to listen to victims of domestic violence. Perpetuating cultures that keep them in silence. When someone summons the courage to finally speak, failure to support and protect them. Actively advising the vulnerable to stay in dangerous (often deadly) situations. A dearth of sermons preached against domestic violence, among the multitude preached on female submission within marriage.

It makes for grim reading. It was released ahead of the issue being broached on the 7:30 report tonight.

But perhaps the most disquieting and shameful part of the report for me as a pastor was that it found that ministers would frequently use bible verses to tell victims that they need to stay in dangerous situations to honour God. And that with no protection offered by the church.

One of three types of texts that the report found were used to justify these spiritual exhortations were "verses that say God hates divorce". Now the verse in the bible that actually uses those words (depending on the translation) is Malachi 2:16. It goes something like this.

For I hate divorce,” says the Lord, the God of Israel, “and him who covers his garment with violence,” says the Lord of hosts. “So take heed to your spirit, that you do not deal treacherously.”

Now there are a few different translations possible of that verse, but whichever is right one thing is clear: the reason that God hated Israelite men divorcing their wives was because it did violence to them. This can't be a pretext to allow violence to continue. The point of this verse is to ensure that male violence towards wives will cease.

There were many reasons why divorcing a wife in that culture did violence to her, but you don't need to be an expert in ancient culture to see that poor treatment of wives by husbands is God's point. It's what the whole passage is about.

Another thing you do: You flood the Lord’s altar with tears. You weep and wail because he no longer looks with favour on your offerings or accepts them with pleasure from your hands.  

You ask, “Why?” 

It is because the Lord is the witness between you and the wife of your youth. You have been unfaithful to her, though she is your partner, the wife of your marriage covenant.

Malachi's prophecy on God's hatred of divorce is an outworking of God's hatred of husbands committing violence against their wives. It is God stepping in and saying, "Not now, not ever" to his people. For any pastor to use this text to force a wife and/or her children to stay in an unsafe situation has missed the point of the bible, and so has missed the heart of God.

Now to say this doesn't mean that divorce is the first step. Or even a necessary step in every situation. Or even a desirable step.

However it is clear that the duty of the church and its leaders is to stand between the victim and the abuser in cases like this, as God does in Malachi. To bind up the wounded and to call the abuser to repentance. To follow the example of Jesus, not only in living gently and kindly in all our own personal relationships, but to, self-sacrificially if necessary, stand between victims of abuse and violence.

The power of multiple stories

One thing that the Christian faith has always had going for it is that it's had room for multiple stories for the same set of facts.

For example, the book of Joshua reads as if Israel was totally victorious, whereas Judges paints a picture of a nation dogged on all sides by her enemies and her errors. Different stories from the same time and place, different overall impression. 

Samuel, Kings and Chronicles have many stories and characters in common, yet there's a different slant on each character or event depending on the source. Multiple 'stories' for the same events.

Not content with this level of nuance, however, the Bible goes even further at its central event: the death and resurrection of Jesus. For this one set of events, we're furnished with a myriad of different metaphors to convey its meaning: Jesus as ransom, Jesus as redeemer, Jesus as propitiation, Jesus victorious cosmic warrior, Jesus as perfect example and so on. The exact same event being loaded with multiple 'meanings'.

The Bible and (largely) Christians are ok with this. In fact, it's a part of the richness of the Christian faith that has seen it minister to the souls of millions for over 2,000 years across every cultural, racial and temporal barrier we know. It's the telling of these different stories that nourishes and forms those who would follow after Jesus in laying down their lives to bless others.

This, I think, shows us modern Australians a way forward as we grapple with the complex nature of our identity and history. Particularly, in the controversy of how to celebrate our national day.

In so many ways, Australia is a place of multiple stories. Different stories about the same time and place that give different impressions to each other. Of multiple 'stories' for the same events. Of the exact same event being loaded with multiple meanings.

Australia is this legitimately. Understandably. Truthfully.

I think this means that if we are to have a truly 'Australia' Day, then it can only be a day where these different stories are told. Stories of dispossession side by side with stories of refuge and hope. Stories of ancient belonging next to stories of proud domination. Stories of thankfulness alongside dirges of mourning.

Australia is all of these stories. Should not the character of our day be the telling of them? A day of national storytelling. As they're told and as they're heard, we would in turn cry and laugh. We would be aghast and then relieved. We would hurt and hug. Together. And perhaps, through the rugged experience of telling our stories and being heard, together come to a peace.

If all Australia Day celebrations were storytelling events of multiple stories, I think it would change us.

I don't know on which day this should happen. I suspect some whose stories are of dislocation, loss and disorientation would prefer to tell those stories on a different day than the 26th. But I can't help but wonder if the pain of that day is the reason it's the day to hear exactly those stories. I suspect many would tell them.

If we invite them. And if we turn our ear to listen.

A story of me

I've not written about Australia day before. I've never really had anything to say. Given that I feel quite strongly about my partial indigenous heritage (I'm half Russian and half, well, we'll get there) I've always thought of this as evidence of a fault within me. An inadequacy where I wanted a connection with my heritage that wasn't truly mine.

This morning, while driving through Ugarapul land, I realised why it was that I have nothing to say. I realised, it's because I have no story. Or, at least, that I don't know it.

One of the quirks of my life has been that neither the Russian nor the 'Australian' sides of my family have been forthcoming with their stories.  It wasn't until my wife befriended my babushka that stories of great-grandfathers leading cossack hordes by Lake Baikal started to tumble out. It was only on hearing those stories that I began to connect with that element of my identity. It was the first time I could.

My family's history in this land, however, has never really seen the light of day. Or, at least, not so that I'd know.

I guess I did know about uncle Martin, the rugby league hero.  And some things about my grandfather: how he befriended orangutans and learned the natives' language when serving in Borneo.  As I grew older I even heard about his alcoholism, though he'd been on the wagon since before I was born.

But of my indigenous heritage, I knew nothing.  Literally.  I don't think it was until my late teens that I found out. My uncle Larry, who is quite dark skinned, was apparently quite relieved when he found out. I, being light-skinned and hungry for an identity, felt twin pangs. The first was the glimmer of hope for an identity. The promise of legitimacy and a place to belong. (no adolescent issues driving that one. Honest.)

The second was a white-knuckled fear that this was a fool's hope, and that I did not belong anywhere. Was I indigenous at all? Am I allowed to feel it?  Or am I a fraud, leeching legitimacy from the oldest living culture on earth?

But it was only this morning on that drive that I put together the pieces. Stories I'd read and heard. The effects of the stolen generation. Young indigenous people struggling growing up in mixed cultures yet not truly in either culture. The loss of tribal languages. Disenfranchisement. And covering all of it, shame. The kind of shame that stifles stories and safeguards silence.

And so I realised. Perhaps I am one of them. Maybe my fear of being not genuinely connected with the land, with the culture, is less a sign of being fake than of being true. The story of those who do not know their story. Who have lost dreaming.

Maybe I do belong with them. With those who also don't belong.

Breaking (bad) religion

On Monday, a Sikh man in New Zealand removed his Siropao (turban) and used it to stem bleeding from the wound a 5 year-old boy sustained when he was hit by a car outside the man's home.  It was a beautiful act. The incident was reported worldwide.

Why though?  What spin made this heartwarming "put it on at the end of the news" story into a global story?

According to almost every media source, this man went against his religion in order to to the right thing.

Headline after headline, even article contents and quotes told the story:

Sikh man breaks religious rules, removes his turban to help an injured boy (AOL and Huffington Post)

"A 22-year-old Sikh man in New Zealand has been hailed as a hero after putting his religious beliefs aside..." (The Telegraph)

Hero Sikh man breaks strict religious rules (The Daily Mail)

Religion put aside to help boy (New Zealand Herald)

Harman Singh was garnering worldwide praise for going against his faith.  Or so the story was being told.

Only, he didn't go against his faith.  In fact, he acted it out.

Sikh religion, and in particular the wearing of its identifiable clothing, is a sign of a commitment to "serve ALL even those who want to cheat you, or hurt you". (link)  That's what the turban symbolises, according to Sikh teachings.

The narrative being preached is offensive to Sikhs everywhere.  It implies that Harman had had to go against his religion in order to act with compassion. One comment that was quoted in a mainstream article sums up the zeitgeist: "Humanity before religion. Nice one buddy."(link)

Now, that would be understandable if Sikh leaders all over the world had condemned Mr Singh's actions.  If they had issued statements saying that according to Sikh ethics he should have "let the boy bleed".  Did they?  Um, not quite.

"Sikh leaders praise the actions of Harman Singh, 22..." (link)

An appropriate headline might be something more like, "Hero Sikh man lives out Sikh faith by..."

Common wisdom seems to now be that religions have no room within them for different ethics appropriate to different contexts.  All they have are inflexible rules.  It's only us, modern secular society that has the enlightened capability of a reasonable ethical system.  That's why we're so right to reject religion, particularly in our public policy and ethical decision making.  And so the only possible explanation for Harman Singh's actions are that he must have gone against his religion.

If the reporting of this incident is anything to go by, this kind of foolish ignorance is not a rare aberration.  It's the media's presupposition.

The three things that make us do evil

Some conclusions on evil from Philip Zimbardo, leader of the notorious 1971 Stanford Prison Experiment.

"... the Lucifer effect involves understanding human character transformations with three factors. And it's a dynamic interplay. 

What do the people bring into the situation? What does the situation bring out of them? And what is the system that creates and maintains that situation?

So if you want to change a person, you've got to change the situation.   

If you want to change the situation, you've got to know where the power is, in the system."

I reckon Zimbardo is right, if there's no way of changing human hearts.  Because if there's no hope to change a person's heart, then all we can do is mitigate the evil that people can commit by managing the circumstances into which we place them.

Sadly, though, I think that if this is true, we're in a hopeless situation.  We end up in a recursive loop we can't resolve.

1. We stop people from doing evil things by avoiding placing them in 'evil producing/tempting' situations.
2. We stop people from being placed in 'evil producing' situations by changing the system that creates the various situations.
3. We change the system by convincing people to change their behaviour so that they change the system.

But the system exists as the product of people acting in ways that benefit them but hurt others.  How do we change the actions of those people?  We have to start from step 1 all over again.

And so the loop continues.



If only there was a way to allow the human heart to choose the good even in a tempting situation.

"For the grace of God has appeared, bringing salvation for all people, training us to renounce ungodliness and worldly passions, and to live self-controlled, upright, and godly lives in the present age, waiting for our blessed hope, the appearing of the glory of our great God and Saviour Jesus Christ, who gave himself for us to redeem us from all lawlessness and to purify for himself a people for his own possession who are zealous for good works."  Titus 2:11-14

Random crumbs falling from a TED talk

An interesting TED talk here on the psychology of evil, by Philip Zimbardo, leader of the notorious 1971 Stanford Prison Experiment.

His basic premise is that there are three contributive factors to the production of evil in people.

1. Disposition of the individual - are they a bad apple?
2. The situation - are the apples in a bad barrel?
3. The system - the legal, political, economic and cultural background that creates the situation.

It is, I think, excellent analysis.  The individuals WILL bring good and bad to a situation, the situation WILL provide a varying degree of temptation to act out negatively and the milieu of law, politics, economic and cultural factors WILL systemically produce certain types of those situations.

It also, it seems to me, is a perfect match for the biblical account of sin.

1. According to Scripture, sin is an individual, responsibility bearing choice.
2. The Bible also says that different situations bring about certain temptations to sin that other situations do not.  (Though, fascinatingly, God seems to use these for good!)
3. Sin gives rise to systemic sin within a population, often until it results in a tragedy of such great magnitude that in God's common grace some of the errors of the age are realised.  Then new ones are formed...

Some fascinating quotes:

Starting with the idea that God created Lucifer, who then rebelled against God and 'became' the devil:

"Paradoxically, it was God who created hell as a place to store evil. He didn't do a good job of keeping it there though."

Some interesting angles there on the nature of the world into which God placed the garden and Adam and Eve.  Biblically, it sure wasn't a perfect world.  Adam and Eve, but particularly Adam, were charged with protecting that garden from evil and chaos, and even to extend the goodness of orderliness of the garden out into the world.

In regards to Abu Ghraib:

"So another report, an investigative report by General Fay, says the system is guilty."

But the question for me is, why do we blame the system?  That people act in certain ways in certain situations doesn't absolve a person of responsibility for actions.  That there is a rich complex of influences going on is worth recognising, but doesn't make the reality of individual responsibility a non-issue.

And this very interesting set of experimental conclusions: (I've added some bible verses in brackets afterwards, because I think there are some striking resemblances)

"So what are the seven social processes that grease the slippery slope of evil? 

Mindlessly taking the first small step (Psalm 1:1)

Dehumanization of others. (Disregard for Gen 9:6, or from another angle, Romans 2:1) 

De-individuation of Self. (Colossians 3:1 - be who you are!)  

Diffusion of personal responsibility.(Genesis 3) 

Blind obedience to authority. (Matthew 15:14 and Ephesians 4:14)  

Uncritical conformity to group norms. (Galatians 2:11-12)  

Passive tolerance to evil through inaction or indifference. (Genesis 3 - Adam, I'm looking at you.)"

Just a crumb - There's something about God

An amazing thing about self-giving love is that because of God, it's indestructible.

Our God is so great that even as he hung on a cross, being destroyed and shamed, in so doing he destroyed the power of that destruction and nullified it.  He poured out his self-giving love with the ultimate result that He himself was made whole.  Our God is so great that His martyrdom is not self-destructive of His Self, nor is His Self-giving able to lessen Him.

As an awesome flow-on, the redeeming power of the Christ-event is so great that the self-giving of those who are in Christ is similarly not destructive to self, but in Him is indestructible.