Alabama CBF: the good and the bad

The pastor of a Baptist church was found dead from an apparent self-inflicted gunshot wound. People in the community were shocked and baffled. In two separate news articles, the accolades went on and on in the small local paper. He “enlightened everyone’s life”…. “touched so many lives in so many ways”… was “very much loved and respected”… “a friend’s friend” … “dedicated to his community and church”… was “everything to everybody” … “a perfect gentleman and perfect friend.”

That’s just a small sampling. The pastor was a prominent citizen. He was on the school board, taught in the schools, was active in local politics, and worked at a mental health center. What could possibly explain his untimely death?

Well, consider this. The pastor had been reported to the Alabama Cooperative Baptist Fellowship for sexual abuse of an adolescent boy, and that report was under review. Under its policy, if the Alabama CBF committee had arrived at a final determination that the abuse allegations were credible, it would have provided a written statement of its decision. The written statement of a denominational review board is the sort of thing reporters can write about. I can’t help but think that the pastor may have realized that.

I was told that a second victim had recently given a statement to the Alabama CBF committee, and that the committee had confronted the pastor. So the pastor had reason to be upset.

Right about now, I’m guessing some of you are probably thinking that it’s pretty low of me to talk this way about a suicide victim. I’ve wondered the same thing myself. Why not let the dead rest in peace?

Here’s why: A perpetrator’s death doesn’t automatically bring peace for his victims.

It was almost 2 years ago that “Bill” first contacted me and said he had been sexually abused by this prominent Alabama pastor. He filed a police report, but as is typical, too much time had passed for prosecution.

When I realized that the pastor’s church was dually affiliated with both the Southern Baptist Convention and the Cooperative Baptist Fellowship, I decided to try to nudge the Alabama CBF to adopt a policy that would allow individuals to report clergy sex abuse to an independent review board. The Alabama CBF is a relatively small organization in Baptist life, and so I hoped it might be more open to change than the big-business-as-usual SBC.

In late 2007, the Alabama CBF adopted a policy and instituted a process for reviewing abuse reports about any minister in an affiliated church. I consulted with the Alabama CBF in the development of its policy, and I applauded them on its adoption. Though the policy was far from perfect, and though it was less than what some other faith groups do, it was nevertheless a big step for a Baptist entity. After all, if the church had been solely affiliated with the SBC, the victim would have been left on his own to try to report the much-loved pastor’s abuse to the pastor’s own church. That’s what Southern Baptist leaders say clergy abuse survivors should do. It’s not realistic.

“Bill” received what I wish all Baptist clergy abuse survivors could receive -- the opportunity to report the abuse to people who will listen and do something about it. Because of the Alabama CBF policy, Bill didn’t have to bear the retraumatizing effect of trying to confront the pastor himself or of trying to present the pastor’s abuse to the pastor’s own church. And because the Alabama CBF’s policy allowed for abuse reports from individuals, and not just churches, Bill didn’t get the bullying run-around that so many other abuse survivors get when they seek help from state and national Southern Baptist leaders, who insist they can’t help individuals. So that much was good about what the Alabama CBF did.

But the Alabama CBF still guarded the secret. And secrecy is what gives perps power -- even dead perps.

When I saw the first article in the small local paper, I contacted the religion writer in the nearest big city -- a reporter with more savvy than the local guy. I admit I hesitated; a suicide is troubling. But a possible factor in a prominent citizen’s suicide would typically be newsworthy. And a Baptist body’s clergy sex abuse review should also be newsworthy. You can read about plenty of clergy review determinations in other faith groups, but for a statewide Baptist body to conduct a review is something unusual. The big-city religion writer was interested. But when he contacted the Alabama CBF, he couldn’t get any confirmation that they had been conducting a review on the pastor. The Alabama CBF wouldn’t say one way or the other. And without confirmation, it’s hard for a reporter to make a story.

By then, the second article in the small local paper had come out, heaping even more praise onto the dead pastor. That pretty much put Bill over the edge. How should he feel when he sees the pastor whom he reported for rape repeatedly lionized as a local hero?

Bill shut down. At first, he was ready to provide all his documentation to help get the “real story” out. He had a police report, letters from the Alabama CBF to him and the accused pastor, and his own lengthy statement to the Alabama CBF. But in the span of just a few hours, Bill shifted to a hunker-down, self-protective mode. Can you blame him? I can’t. I was extremely disappointed because a huge amount of time and energy has been spent on trying to get the truth about this pastor into the light of day, and because whenever one clergy abuse survivor speaks up, others are often strengthened. But I always tell abuse survivors to protect their own psychological well-being, and that’s what Bill did by hunkering down.

For those of you who are still thinking the pastor’s death should put an end to the matter, here’s the thing: It doesn’t end for the victims. Bill’s hunker-down reaction is exactly why this was an important story to try to get out. It’s why the Alabama CBF should have taken on the burden of publicly disclosing the information that two people had reported this pastor.

It’s easy to imagine the pain of the dead pastor’s family. A suicide is always a tragedy. But there’s another chasm of pain, and though it’s less obvious, it’s no less real. It’s the pain of the victims who endure the salt in the wound of seeing their pastor-perpetrator endlessly praised and glorified.

Given that there were two reported victims for this pastor, there were almost certainly many more. Not only did the man have a position of trust as a pastor, but he also had access to especially vulnerable people through his work with the mental health clinic. Others have likely lived for years in undue silent shame because of this man, and they too may double-over in pain when they see the heaped-on praise for him. But they will also see the futility of trying to speak of their horror when the consensus about the man is already set in stone: he’s a hero.

The Alabama CBF should complete its review and take a stand for the truth. After all, this pastor effectively carried a seal of credibility from the Alabama CBF. So the Alabama CBF should be the one to bear the burden of seeing to it that such important information makes it into the light of day. In addition, the Alabama CBF should publicly, proactively and immediately reach out to other possible victims with an offer of support and counseling. If the truth isn’t told, the pastor will probably be permanently lionized with a school named after him.