Réforme magazine article in English translation

A reader asked about getting an English translation of the complete article that appeared in the March 10, 2011 issue of Réforme, the largest Protestant publication in France. So, I am happy to provide it below, with this simple caveat: It’s the work of a struggling French speaker, not a professional translator.

But here’s why I think this article is so important and worth reading in its entirety. It shows that other people around the world can readily see the horror in how this powerful faith group uses religion as a rationalization for turning a blind eye to terrible abuses. The article’s author, Alexis Buisson, called it the “wall of denial.” That “wall” is what other people are seeing about Southern Baptists. The reason most Baptists don’t see it is because they are blinded by their own indoctrinated orthodoxy and by the propaganda of their religious leaders. But others can indeed see it.

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A Voice Against the Forbidden

Christa Brown thought of herself as a true daughter of the church. She was the pianist for her church choir in Farmers Branch, Texas; she went to summer camps for studying the Bible; she went to Sunday School. And she was raised with the strictest respect for pastors.

Her small church was a second home for her until the day when the pastor, who was in charge of youth actitivities, began flirting with her and telling her how beautiful she was. One day, he held her and kissed her. He reassured her by telling her that their relationship was the will of God. When she resisted, he reproached her for her lack of faith. The relationship between the married man and the minor girl was prolonged, culminating in the moment when Christa woke up naked and terrified on the bed of the parsonage after her aggressor had given her several glasses of alcohol. “Don’t worry,” he whispered to her. “You’ll still be a virgin.”

Even decades later, talking about this history is always painful for Christa Brown. But now at fifty-seven years old, an attorney, a wife and mother of a child, she knew how to give words to the unspeakable and committed it all to a book, This Little Light, in which she recounts the attacks upon her, her quest for justice, her personal torments, and the loss of faith that resulted from all of it.

Lack of record-keeping

Beyond all that, Christa’s book came out in 2009 and made of her the public face for an unrecognized plague: pedophilia among American protestants, and in particular, among Southern Baptists, the largest protestant group in the United States, with 16 million members, and the group to which Christa once belonged. “Some people have said that my writing of the book was an act of catharsis. But I think, instead, that it was an act of resistance –- resistance in the name of all the voices of all the victims that this powerful religious group has silenced.”

Christa Brown’s narrative offers a rare insight into the difficulties that those victimized by sexual abuse in Baptist churches have had to face in their struggle for recognition of the wrongs.

In particular, she recounts that her understanding of the nature of the aggression came too late to pursue justice for her aggressor through the criminal justice system. In general, the laws of limitation make 28 the maximum age for a person to make a complaint about being sexually abused as a minor. These laws often have the effect of penalizing the victims of rape and molestation, who sometimes need many years to understand what was done to them. There is also a lack of record-keeping in Baptist churches, which impedes the ability to trace presumed pedophiles several years after their deeds.

She decided to undertake a personal crusade to prevent the repetition of such abuse for others. She found her aggressor in a church, and she wrote to 18 Baptist leaders to inform them of the danger. In vain. She went several times to the headquarters of the Southern Baptist Convention, earnestly beseeching Baptists’ national representatives, only to be confronted by the same denial. Their response is that each church is administered in an autonomous manner and that a list of “sexual predators” would be contrary to this principle. But Christa affirms that this amounts to a maneuver for burying the problem. “That sort of autonomy doesn’t really exist in actual practice. All through their history, you can find examples showing that there has been cooperation for all manner of purposes among the churches and the regional and national authorities.”

Wall of denial

Faced with this wall of denial, she turned to the media, her last recourse. The Orlando Sentinel newspaper, ignoring the threat of a lawsuit, published an article with the name of her aggressor. He ended up quitting his pastoral position under pressure. “Abuse is difficult to accept in life, but what is even more difficult to accept is the attitude of Southern Baptist officials,” Christa says. When we hear them call us “evil-doers,” and question our mental state, “you get the impression that the victims are the people who should be beaten down.”

Since the publication of her book, she remarks that too little has changed in how Baptists treat reports about sexual abuse. Contrary to the Catholic Church, the powerful Southern Baptist Convention, which was created in the middle of the 19th century, has still not established any procedures for examining pedophilia accusations against clergy, arguing that their decentralized organization justifies their do-nothingness.

In June 2008, the Southern Baptist Convention requested that local pastor-search committees check criminal records on those seeking employment, but it voted against a motion for the creation of a centralized database of its own clergy who were convicted or charged with pedophilia. The well-known TIME magazine included this decision in its list of ten news stories that were underreported by the media in 2008.

Declining membership

Pedophilia has “always existed within this religious group,” according to Christa Brown, who says she has heard from victims who say they are now 60 to 70 years old. “I would like Southern Baptists to recognize and acknowledge that sexual abuse is a real problem, instead of saying that there’s only been forty incidents in fifteen years, as one of their leaders suggested. It isn’t true: I’ve heard the stories of hundreds of victims. And it’s still only the tip of the iceberg.”

“Until Southern Baptists take on their responsibility and undertake profound internal reforms, they will not have done enough about this problem. They should listen to the victims, not their lawyers,” intones Marci Hamilton, professor on law and religion at Yeshiva University in New York.

Christa Brown herself has created a website to inform the greater public and to collect the evidence of the thousands of “survivors” that Baptist leaders don’t want to see. “Their tactics have worked for a very long time, but they won’t endure. They think they can hide behind their walls, but those walls are tumbling down. This is a denomination in decline,” she says.

For the first time in fifty years, the Baptist family reports a declining membership.

“I have a good life and I am grateful for it. But I think it is impossible to completely heal from this sort of sexual abuse. We live in the light and the darkness. I am capable of talking about it, but many others are still paralyzed by it.”

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Related post: Réforme writes about Baptists' "wall of denial," 3/10/11

Réforme writes about Baptists’ “wall of denial”

In its March 10, 2011 issue, Réforme magazine published a profile story about my book, This Little Light, and about clergy sex abuse among Southern Baptists. I’m told that Réforme is the largest Protestant publication in France. So, a whole lot of French-speaking people are now reading about the horror of the Baptist do-nothing response to clergy sex abuse. Kudos to Alexis Buisson, the journalist who wrote this article!

I’m guessing that most of you don’t speak French. So allow me to give you a translated version of a few passages. I’m not totally fluent, and so this is a mediocre translation that doesn’t begin to do justice to the beauty of Buisson’s writing, but hopefully, it will give you the gist.

The article begins by relating a few excerpts from my own story and by telling about my book, which Buisson describes as having “mettre des mots sur l’indicible” -- as giving words to the unspeakable.

Then he discusses the unacknowledged plague – “fléau méconnu” – of pedophilia among Protestants, and in particular, among Southern Baptists, the largest Protestant group in the United States.

He quotes me as saying: “Certaines personnes ont dit que l’écriture du livre etait un acte cathartique. . . . Pour moi, c’était plutot un fait de resistance au nom des voix de toutes les victims que ce groupe religieux tres puissant a tues.”

Translation: “Some people have said that my writing of the book was an act of catharsis. But I think, instead, that it was an act of resistance – resistance in the name of all the voices of all the victims that this powerful religious group has silenced.”

Buisson writes about “l’absence de registres” -- the lack of record-keeping -- among Baptists, which impedes the ability to trace presumed pedophiles. And he does an amazing job of succinctly explaining the position of Southern Baptist officials: “They say that each church is administered in an autonomous manner and that a list of sexual predators would be contrary to that principle. But Christa affirms that this amounts to a maneuver for burying the problem. ‘That sort of autonomy doesn’t really exist in actual practice,' she says. 'All through their history, you can find examples showing that there has been cooperation for all manner of purposes among the churches and the regional and national authorities.’”

Buisson explains how “la puissante SBC” – the powerful Southern Baptist Convention – doesn’t even have procedures for looking into clergy sex abuse accusations and how it contends that its decentralized structure justifies its “immobilisme” – i.e., its do-nothingness. He describes this as the “mur de déni” – the wall of denial. The very fact that Buisson's writing is so clear makes the story all the more chilling.

"L’abus est difficile à vivre, mais l’attitude des autorités de l’Union des baptistes du Sud est encore plus difficile à accepter, raconte-t-elle."

"Such abuse is difficult to accept in life, but what is even more difficult to accept is the attitude of Southern Baptist officials," she says.

Then, Buisson quotes Marci Hamilton, professor of law and religion at Yeshiva Univesity in New York: "Tant que les baptistes du Sud n’auront pas pris leur responsabilité et qu’ils n’auront pas engagé des réformes internes profondes, ils n’en auront pas fait assez. Ils doivent écouter les victimes . . . . ".

Translation: "Until Southern Baptists take on their responsibility and undertake profound internal reforms, they will not have done enough about this problem. They must listen to the victims…. "

Christa Brown says : "Leur stratégie a marché pendant très longtemps mais elle ne va pas durer. Ils pensaient qu’ils pouvaient se retrancher derrière leurs murs mais les murs sont en train de tomber. Cette dénomination est en déclin."

Translation: "Their tactics have worked for a very long time, but they won’t endure. They thought they could hide behind their walls but those walls are tumbling down. This is a denomination in decline."

"J’ai une bonne vie et j’en suis reconnaissante. Mais je pense qu’il est impossible de guérir complètement d’un abus sexuel, poursuit-elle. Nous vivons dans la lumière et l’ombre. Je suis capable d’en parler mais beaucoup d’autres sont encore paralysés."

Translation: "I have a good life for which I am very grateful. But I think it is impossible to completely heal from this sort of sexual abuse. We live in the light and the darkness. I am capable of talking about it, but many others are still paralyzed by it."
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Réforme magazine's website is at http://www.reforme.net/. If you scroll down to the "Portrait" section, you'll see my picture and a link to the beginning of the article. I converted the whole of the article into this pdf: http://stopbaptistpredators.org/documents/reforme_une_voix.pdf

Rebranding needs more than name change

“One of Nashville’s largest Baptist churches will have a new name that omits the word ‘Baptist’. Effective March 20, Two Rivers Baptist Church will become the Fellowship at Two Rivers.”

-- The Tennessean, March 5, 2011

Plenty of other Baptist churches have renamed themselves, but what makes the Two Rivers change particularly interesting is that Two Rivers has been “the home church” for many of the high-honchos of the Southern Baptist Convention, which has its headquarters in Nashville.

So do you get the picture? The home church for Southern Baptist honchos doesn’t want to call itself “Baptist” anymore. Ironic, eh?

That’s how tarnished the “Baptist” brand has become.

Two Rivers itself has had plenty of problems in recent years. This is the church that, in 2008, ousted a group of 70 members who sought access to church financial records. It took a second vote, with changed rules, to get the ouster accomplished, because on the first vote, the church membership didn’t do what church leadership wanted. It was such a debacle that The Nashville Scene did a scathing parody of the church’s voting process, saying “Two Rivers Baptist to advise Zimbabwe regime” on election tactics because “they know a thing or two about reversing an election that didn’t go their way.”

By some reports, these dictatorial tactics were apparently nothing unusual for Two Rivers. Its leadership preached, “There has to be submission and authority.”

All of this happened with senior pastor Jerry Sutton at the Two Rivers helm. He was a man who nearly won the presidency of the Southern Baptist Convention in 2006. So he knew a thing or two about the tactics of power.

But things sure got ugly there at Two Rivers. Sutton himself fell under scrutiny as the Associated Press reported on troubling allegations, including an allegation that he had used church money to pay for his daughter’s wedding reception. Additionally, the Associated Press reported that “one of Sutton’s former administrative assistants has also said Sutton looked at pornography on his church computer and had an affair with a church staff member -- charges the church denies.” (If you want to see the original of the Associated Press article on this, for $1.50, you can retrieve it from the archives at ap.org by searching under the reporter’s name, Rose French.)

Meanwhile, even as Sutton was insisting that the 70 record-seeking members should “issue a written apology and promise never to cause disharmony again,” lo and behold, a stash of financial records was found in a dumpster behind the church.

As reported by WSMV-TV, a church member described those records as showing unusual items “charged to the church credit card,” including “tickets to an Atlanta Braves baseball game and a $300 deck hand fee for a lavish sport fishing outfit.” Reportedly, there were also “a number of handwritten notes indicating that a church staffer is to be ‘paid in cash’ and a note “that said to give her half in cash and half in a check.”

Lawsuits went back and forth, and as best I can tell, most of the civil claims against Sutton were dismissed based on jurisdictional grounds – i.e., because the judge “declined to become involved” in church matters – and not based on any review of the merits. Sutton himself eventually left Two Rivers and went to teach at Liberty Baptist Theological Seminary in Lynchburg, Virginia. (Liberty was founded by Jerry Falwell and is described as “the largest Christian university in the world.”)

With such an ugly history, you might imagine that, if Two Rivers were going to “rebrand” itself, it would drop “Two Rivers” from the name. But no . . . they decided to “rebrand” by dropping “Baptist” from the name. I guess they thought the “Baptist” part of the brand carried even more taint than the “Two Rivers” part.

But of course, it’s all just a matter of appearances. The church is still “very solidly Southern Baptist.”

Speaking of appearances . . . those of you who followed the Ergun Caner scandal may find this further info interesting. When Jerry Sutton moved on to teach at Liberty, the school’s former president and dean, Ergun Caner, bragged that Liberty’s new professor was “a pulpit heavyweight.” Uh…. yeah …. I guess he sure knew how to throw his weight around, didn’t he?

Caner went on to praise Sutton as “one of the best preachers in the nation” and said “the Church is strong when the preaching is SOLID.” Uh… strong? After Sutton visited his style of leadership on the Two Rivers church, it dropped from 3000 in average Sunday attendance to about 650.

Finally, Caner resorted to military metaphors, saying that Sutton would help train ministry students for “the front lines” and help them understand “trench warfare.” Uh . . . it sure looked like “warfare” there at Two Rivers. But is that really the style of leadership that Baptists want to teach to the next generation?

Maybe that gets right back to the underlying reason for why Two Rivers feels the need to rebrand itself by omitting the word “Baptist.”

Too many Baptist leaders have tarnished the Baptist brand by making it into a faith about “warfare” and power rather than a faith about compassion and love.

After all, this is the faith group whose highest leader, Frank Page, wrote a column in which he publicly castigated the support groups for clergy molestation and rape victims as being “nothing more than opportunistic persons” . . . and he has never even bothered to apologize. And this is the faith group in which 100,000 other Southern Baptist ministers have sat silently in the face of such hateful rhetoric, refusing to even hold their own leader accountable. To the contrary, they promoted him.

Yes, the Baptist name has indeed been tarnished. But it will take more than the illusion of rebranding to solve the problem. It will take a widespread change of heart.

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Photo from the now-defunct TwoRiversInfo.org website, which was the work of church members who sought Two Rivers' financial records.

Related posts:

"Submission and authority," 8/15/07

"Two Rivers in the dumpster," 4/30/08

"Nothing more," 3/16/09

Update:

"Sutton becomes interim dean and vice-president of academics" at Midwestern Baptist Theological Seminary, 2/15/11

The Truth

When it comes to clergy sex abuse, Southern Baptists can’t handle the truth.

Can’t. Won't. Won't even try.

Truth can be messy. So basically, Baptists just opt out. They refuse to deal with it.

Time and time again, we’ve seen this pattern. When a church’s minister is arrested on child sex charges, the pastor and other church leaders talk about wanting to wait for “the truth” to be made known.

We saw this pattern in the recent case in Port Orchard, Washington. “We want the truth to come out,” said senior pastor Jamie Greening, after another minister in his church was arrested on child sex charges and after police said he had “confessed on tape to raping a 12-year-old.”

So, in circumstances like this, what do pastors really mean when they talk about “the truth”?

As best I can tell, they mean that they want to wait to see whether or not the minister is criminally convicted. They want some other authority – such as the criminal justice system – to simply tell them what constitutes “the truth.”

But criminal conviction is not one and the same as “the truth.”

Just because a man hasn’t been criminally convicted doesn’t mean that he hasn’t sexually abused a child. In fact, many experts estimate that 90 percent of active sex offenders have no criminal record. This is consistent with FBI data, which indicates that only about 1 to 10 percent of child molestation crimes are ever even disclosed, much less prosecuted or convicted.

This reality is one reason why most of the other major faith groups in this country now have denominational systems for making their own assessments about whether it is more likely than not that a minister sexually abused a person. They take responsibility within the faith group for making an assessment about what they believe “the truth” to be, and they make that assessment based on standards that are less rigid than those of the criminal justice system.

Other major faith groups take that responsibility onto their own shoulders for the sake of better protecting kids and congregants. A faith group’s assessment of “the truth” will not function to put a man in prison, but it can function to assure that he won’t be able to use the mantle of ministerial trust as a weapon.

There’s plenty of room for debate about the standards and presumptions of the criminal justice system. But here’s the thing – whatever you may think of the criminal justice system, there is no reason why a faith group should rely solely on the criminal justice system for deciding whether a pastor is fit to remain in the pulpit.

Our criminal justice system is premised on the notion that it is better to let nine guilty men go free rather than to risk convicting an innocent man. This premise may make sense when the end result may be a deprivation of liberty . . . i.e., when the person who is convicted may be confined to a jail cell.

But does it make sense for deciding whether a pastor should remain in the pulpit?

Is it better to let nine child-molesting ministers remain as ministers rather than to risk the removal of one innocent minister from his chosen career?

Other faith groups have taken on these difficult questions and have developed their own standards for assessing “the truth” about clergy sex abuse allegations. But Southern Baptists still don’t bother. This makes lack of a criminal conviction into the de facto standard for clergy fitness among Southern Baptists. Basically, if a minister isn’t sitting in prison, he can probably find a Baptist pulpit to stand in. There is no Baptist denominational system that will stop him.

Sadly, waiting for “the truth” is also an excuse that many Baptist pastors use to avoid even the extension of care to those wounded by clergy sex abuse. We saw this pattern, too, in the Port Orchard case.

After immediately telling his congregation how important it was “to keep Pastor Dirk’s family in our prayers” (and after “the courtroom was packed” with supporters for “Pastor Dirk”), senior pastor Jamie Greening said nothing at all about care or concern for the victim in his initial “pastoral note.” (And I couldn’t help but notice that Greening still respectfully referred to the minister who “confessed on tape to raping a 12-year-old” as “Pastor Dirk.”)

Then, in two subsequent posts (here and here), Greening made these statements about the victim:

“If these allegations are true (and we don’t know that for sure yet) then she is in need of our prayers and support….”

“If these allegations are true, then our love, encouragement and support must be for the woman who has brought these charges as well as for Dirk and his family."

You’ll notice, of course, that he makes support for the victim conditioned on “if these allegations are true.” So, even though he has already publicly urged support and prayer for “Pastor Dirk,” senior pastor Jamie Greening still waits to see “if these allegations are true” before he will allow that the accuser may also need support. Then he goes an even further step of publicly casting doubt on the victim with his “and we don’t know that for sure yet” comment.

So, what exactly does pastor Greening mean by his “if these allegations are true” statement? Exactly what “truth” is he waiting for before he will allow that the victim, too, may need prayers and support?

As best I can tell, it’s the same old pattern. Even in the face of admissions, Baptists wait for the criminal justice system to provide them with “the truth” in the form of a criminal conviction.

When criminal conviction is a faith group’s only standard for assessing “the truth” about a minister, you can be sure that many ministers who rape and molest kids will remain in positions of high trust, and that kids will be at greater risk. That's the truth.
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Related post: "Even in the face of admissions," 3/4/11

Even in the face of admissions

In Port Orchard, Washington, a Southern Baptist pastor was arrested on charges of child rape. In recorded phone calls, police say that pastor Dirk P. Jackson admitted to having “sexual relations” with the girl, who was then a sixth grader, and to “having her perform oral sex on him while they were in the classroom.” When police told Jackson they had recorded copies of the phone calls, he said the conduct was “consensual.”

Even in the face of such admissions, the church’s senior pastor, Jamie Greening, told KOMO News: “This does not match. These allegations do not match the man we’ve known for eight years.” (You can see pastor Jamie Greening in this KOMO News video.)

Then, on his pastor’s blog, Greening made these mealy-mouthed minimizing statements to his congregation:

“This allegedly occurred before his tenure at our church. . . . Our congregation has not been indicated as a place where anything wrong happened. To our knowledge, Dirk is not being accused of any wrongdoing in his official capacity as a pastor at FBC.”
Huh???

The girl was a sixth grader at the time, and pastor Jackson was working as a teacher at Manchester Christian Academy.

Since 2003, Jackson has been “working with kids in youth programs” as a pastor at First Baptist Church in Port Orchard. “Detectives are concerned there may be additional young victims.”

Why doesn’t Pastor Greening express just as much concern for the likelihood of additional victims as the detectives do? And why isn’t he expressing just as much concern for the woman who made the police report as he has for pastor Jackson? And why in the world does he think it matters whether pastor Jackson committed these deeds in his “official capacity”?

Does he imagine that it would be okay for First Baptist Church to have a pastor who admitted to raping a kid in his unofficial capacity?

In the midst of this all-too-common craziness, ponder how this might have played out if it had been the more typical scenario. What if this woman’s claim were too old for criminal prosecution (as is usually the case), and the police had not been able to get a warrant to record her phone calls? What if there had been no possibility of pursuing charges through the criminal justice system?

That’s the more typical scenario because the very nature of the harm is such that it silences kids for a very long time, often for many years and even decades.

If the woman – worried that the pastor could be using his position of trust to hurt still more kids – went to Southern Baptist officials, they would wash their hands of it and tell her that she must take her report to the church of the accused pastor. They would recite their mantra of “local church autonomy.”

Can you imagine?

Even in the face of a pastor’s admissions in recorded phone calls, and even in the face of criminal charges against him, the church responds with overwhelming public support for the pastor. We have seen this pattern over and over again. So how can denominational officials even imagine that a local church could responsibly assess a clergy abuse report in the absence of criminal charges?

It is irresponsible and reckless for Southern Baptist officials to persist in promoting the notion that local churches can handle clergy abuse allegations on their own. They can’t.

For the safety of kids and congregants throughout the denomination, local churches need the resource of an outside review board to assess clergy abuse allegations that cannot be criminally prosecuted, to inform people in the pews about credibly-accused clergy, and to prevent credibly-accused clergy from church-hopping.

Other major faith groups now have such denominational resources for clergy accountability. Southern Baptists don’t.

Shouldn’t kids in Southern Baptist churches be entitled to the same sorts of denominational safeguards as kids in Presbyterian, Episcopalian, and Methodist churches?
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Update 8/16/11: This pastor, Dirk Jackson, has pled guilty and been sentenced to 41 months in prison for sexual abuse of a sixth grader. I received more "you're going to hell" hate-messages because of my posting on this case than I have ever received on any other case -- dozens upon dozens -- all from people who were so sure that Jackson was innocent and a great man of God. So much hate-spewing sure made me wonder about those people in that Port Orchard church. But even though Jackson has now pled guilty, I'm sure not gonna hold my breath waiting for any apologies. 
"Former youth pastor gets 41-month sentence", 8/16/11
"Pastor pleads guilty to sex abuse of former student," 8/4/11

News reports on this:
"Port Orchard pastor charged with raping 12-year-old girl"
"Port Orchard minister admits on tape to rape of girl"
"SK pastor arrested on child rape charges"
"Child rape charges filed against South Kitsap pastor"
Related post: "Three-legged stool"

Thanks to Jeri Massi for bringing this case to my attention.

See also Bob Felton's related post on Civil Commotion.

Throw It Away

There are times when so much religiously-fueled vitriol comes my way that I can hardly bear it. When those waves of hate arrive, music is often the best remedy. Thanks to the late great Abbey Lincoln for this breathtakingly beautiful song.

More of what's deplorable in Georgia

Yesterday, a man who identified himself on Blogger as “Nathan Palmer” tried to post a comment to my December column about a former Arnoldsville Baptist Church minister who was sentenced to 13 years in prison for molesting a 13-year-old girl.

Palmer “signed” his comment as “The Pastor of Arnoldsville Baptist Church.”

Pastor Palmer ranted about my prior blog post and also ranted about the Athens Banner-Herald, which reported on both the 2006 case and the 2010 case against Norman Pugh, the former Arnoldsville Baptist minister.

Yeah – that’s right. This involved a former Southern Baptist youth minister who got criminally prosecuted on child molestation charges twice.

As reported by the Athens Banner-Herald, in 2006, church members “rallied around” Pugh; the pastor’s wife posted his bond; and ultimately, a jury failed to find Pugh guilty under the strict “beyond a reasonable doubt” standard of the criminal law.

Several years later, Pugh was again arrested, and this time “on charges of aggravated child molestation, sexual exploitation of a child, electronically furnishing obscene material to a minor and making obscene telephone calls to a child involving a different victim.”

This time, Pugh didn’t get off. He’s now serving a 13 year prison sentence. Thank God.

But get this – Pastor Palmer still doesn’t believe it. He’s still proclaiming Norman Pugh’s innocence.

Even worse, he tries to publicly shame the kids.

In his comment, Pastor Palmer smears the 14-year-old who reported Pugh back in 2006. Then he identifies the 13-year-old victim whose case sent Pugh to prison.

Let me repeat that so it’s clear. In a comment that “The Pastor of Arnoldsville Baptist Church” tried to post on this public blog, he identified a 13-year-old child molestation victim.

It is utterly unconscionable. It is deplorable. It is beyond ignorance. It is mean and hateful. Words fail me.

No way, no how, will I allow such a comment to go up on this blog. I’m offended that Pastor Palmer would even imagine that he could use my blog to publicly post such ugliness.

But Pastor Palmer has surely answered the question I posed in my prior posting when I pondered whether Arnoldsville Baptist Church would now seek out that 14-year-old kid who reported their youth minister in 2006 and offer to pay for her counseling. Given that Pastor Palmer is now trying to smear the kid, it seems self-evident that he’s not likely to shepherd his church to do the right thing and pay for the kid’s counseling.

Are you sickened by this story? I hope so. But here’s the clincher.

“The Pastor of Arnoldsville Baptist Church” ends his ugly comment with this statement: “I agree that any clergy, pastor, priest or any person in authority should be held accountable for all actions. Especially hurting a child. It is deplorable. . . . but just because you read it somewhere doesn’t mean you have the whole story.”

Hold up a mirror, Pastor, because you yourself did something pretty deplorable. Your comment would have publicly identified a 13-year-old molestation victim and smeared a 14-year-old. If you’re even remotely capable of seeing the ugliness in your actions, then you should hold yourself accountable.

Furthermore, what good does it do for a Baptist pastor to “agree” in the abstract that clergy should be held accountable for hurting children if he can’t bring himself to see such hurtfulness in the real world, even when it’s staring him in the face?

Self-righteous platitudes will not protect kids. “The Pastor of Arnoldsville Baptist Church” has demonstrated why Baptistland is such a perfect paradise for predators: There are too many people who want to talk about how much they deplore clergy predators but too few who will actually open their eyes to reality.

Despite multiple allegations, multiple charges, a grand jury indictment, a guilty plea, and a 13-year prison sentence, “The Pastor of Arnoldsville Baptist Church” is still conjuring excuses for refusing to believe what is now beyond doubt: The church’s former youth minister was a child molester.

"Straight to Hell"

From Childersburg, Alabama comes this lovely missive today:

“You are going straight to Hell. No doubt about it.

YOU SHOULD BE ASHAMED OF YOURSELF. I hope that when you die, people smear your name in the mud and force your friends and family to sit there and listen to it.”

Then Mr. Childersburg himself proceeded to smear the men who have alleged that a now-deceased Alabama Baptist pastor molested them in childhood. Ugly stuff.

Of course, it’s people like this who prove my point. This is why Baptist churches need the resource of an outside independent review board to assess clergy sex-abuse allegations that cannot be criminally prosecuted (which is most).

No one who is trying to talk about the trauma of having been sexually abused by a Baptist minister should have to worry about encountering vitriolic fools like this. And there are far too many of them in Baptistland.

Clergy sex abuse survivors need a safe place to which they can report Baptist ministers with at least a reasonable expectation of being objectively heard. That does not exist in Baptistland.

It doesn’t exist for reports about ministers who are still standing in their pulpits, and it doesn’t exist for reports about ministers who are deceased either.

Baptists don’t want to know the truth of such ugly deeds as clergy child molestations. They don’t even want to attempt to know the truth.

That’s the problem. Denominationally, they don’t even try.

And as for this guy in Childersburg, Alabama who tells me I’m going “straight to Hell”? Well, what else is new?

Join the crowd, Mr. Childersburg, because you’re far from the first “good Christian” to tell me I’m going “straight to Hell.”

In fact, I’ve heard so much of your pseudo-religious style of hate-talk that it’s become flat-out boring and banal.

So here’s how I feel about it. If “heaven” is filled with bully Baptists like Mr. Childersburg, then I don’t want to go there.

In fact, Baptists like Mr. Childersburg make me think that maybe someone should put up a warning sign on heaven’s door: “Enter at your own risk – big bad Baptists are here.”

Of course, despite all the vitriol that arrives in my inbox, I know that not all Baptists are like Mr. Childersburg. Nevertheless, even the non-bully Baptists aren’t doing much of anything to systematically address clergy sex abuse.

That’s where the real shame lies.

"Louis" tells why Baptists need review boards

Mike Hogan

Mike Hogan, a mayoral candidate in Jacksonville, Florida, testified as a character witness for a Southern Baptist pastor who was convicted in 2007 of possessing child pornography. To this day, Hogan still doesn’t believe the man was guilty; he said so just last Tuesday in the Florida Times-Union.

The convicted man, Richard Steven Sweat, was a youth pastor at Lake Shore Baptist Church in Jacksonville, and Mike Hogan was active at First Baptist Church of Jacksonville. Both churches are affiliated with the Southern Baptist Convention.

Hogan didn’t attend the 5-day trial and didn’t hear any of the evidence. Nevertheless, after Sweat was convicted, Hogan testified at the sentencing hearing and swore to the judge that he didn’t have “any reservation whatsoever” about Sweat’s innocence.

So given that Hogan hadn’t heard any of the evidence, why was he so certain of Sweat’s innocence? According to Hogan’s testimony, it was because he had known Sweat for 15 years, because Hogan’s son said Sweat was a person “of great character,” and because Sweat “was unashamed of his love for and his commitment to his Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ.”

Did I mention that Hogan didn’t attend even a single day of the 5-day trial? Twelve jurors actually did sit and hear all the evidence and they concluded that Sweat was guilty. The FBI reached the same conclusion based on a year-long investigation. But apparently Hogan didn’t think the evidence mattered. Hogan was more than willing to proclaim Sweat’s innocence based on his own gut belief that he “knew” the man.

So far, there’s not much of anything in this story that’s unusual, is there? We’ve seen dozens of these kinds of cases in which people insist that they just “know” a minister is innocent.

But here’s what grabbed my attention. When “Watchdog” blogged about this case, a frequent Baptist blog commenter named “Louis” posted this remark:

“This is a very common human trait. If we love something (an idea) or someone so much, we will ignore things or minimize things that show that idea or person in a bad light.

"Mr. Hogan's testimony is so illogical, there is no explaining it except to say that when the evidence contradicts a human's love for someone, that person will ignore the evidence or try to explain it away. . . . History is full of people who do this.”

“Louis” is exactly right: “This is a very common human trait.” But here’s why it’s so puzzling to see such words coming from “Louis.”

“Louis” is the same guy who has repeatedly denounced the notion of providing Southern Baptist churches with the denominational resource of a trained review board to more objectively assess clergy abuse reports that cannot be criminally prosecuted (which is most of them). He is an attorney; he is reportedly on an SBC board; and his blog comments often give the appearance that he is a Southern Baptist official. I’m only about 90 percent certain of who “Louis” actually is, and so I won’t state his presumed identity, but suffice it to say that I think “Louis” is someone who has likely done as much or more than almost any other individual to dissuade Southern Baptist officials from implementing denominational review boards to assess complaints about Baptist clergy sex abuse and to provide Baptist congregations with more reliable information about credibly-accused clergy.

So what in the world is “Louis” thinking? He knows and understands full well about this “common human trait” – i.e., that, as human beings, we tend to overlook, deny and minimize ugly information about awful conduct when the conduct involves someone we love and trust. Yet, “Louis" still proclaims that congregants in local Southern Baptist churches can responsibly assess clergy abuse reports, even when those reports involve their own loved and trusted ministers. Congregants can’t, and the reason they can’t is precisely because of the very “common human trait” that “Louis” himself acknowledges.

This is why other professional groups and other religious groups have accountability systems that seek to procedurally compensate for the reality of this “common human trait.” They have accountability systems that allow for ethical review processes to be conducted by those outside the accused’s immediate circle of influence and trust.

But Southern Baptists don’t bother. Baptist honchos like “Louis” know about this “common human trait” but they still sit back and do nothing to effectively deal with it. This institutional failure is part of what makes Baptistland such a perfect paradise for predators.

Rather than using the words of Jesus as a reason for protecting “the least of these,” Southern Baptists have used their “religion” of autonomy as an excuse to avoid accountability for the powerful. They have done so with the help and advice of men like “Louis.”
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Related post:Baptists must face fears and prioritize risks, 8/24/10

I remember

Trish lived down the hall from me when I was 19 years old and in the dorm at the University of North Texas. She was a dear friend, but though we kept in touch for several years after college, we eventually lost track of one another. I hadn’t heard from Trish for about 30 years when, out of the blue, I got this email the other day:

“Christa:

Since I met you, I have admired you for your courage, intellect, risk-taking and compassion. What you have done in the past few years to openly confront the sexual abuse that you and others have suffered is so powerful! I am so proud of what you have done for yourself and many other victims of clergy abuse.

I will always remember the bravado in your voice (probably due to our over-consumption of homemade Kahlua) and the pain on your face the night we sat on the floor of your Bruce Hall dorm room and you first told me about what you then referred to as ‘your affair.’ I know I was a naïve little twit and my jaw fell open, but I was still so shocked and sickened that you blamed yourself and not the married minister and that there was no one who could/would counsel or support you. I ached for you as you described how you felt you were unworthy of love and respect and were so distressed that you had lost your connection to God. Despite all of your academic achievements and global travels, you buried your victimization so deep, but I always felt this abuse was the reason for your despondent and sometimes suicidal phone calls. For years I was haunted by the loneliness that was revealed in those phone calls and prayed that you would never give up hope. That you have taken the damage that has been done to you to help others heal is so inspiring.”

I sat and wept after reading Trish’s email.

I remember that girl – the girl Trish is talking about – the girl who, for years, couldn’t find any meaning for much of anything.

I remember that girl -- the girl whose whole sense of self disintegrated after she was molested, sexually abused and raped by a Southern Baptist minister when she was a 16-year-old church kid. I’m grateful that Trish remembers her, too.

In truth, I have no memory of sitting on the floor in Bruce Hall and telling Trish about “my affair.” But I expect Trish’s memory is more accurate than mine. I was probably totally sloshed.

What I do remember is that, several years after college, Trish had the misfortune of calling me on the phone one night when I had the pills on the counter and was already half-drunk and was trying to get up my gumption to down them. Trish figured out what was going on and she stayed on the phone with me for hours. No telling how things would have turned out if she hadn’t.

I remember only that one suicidal phone call, but again, I don’t doubt that Trish’s memory may be better on this than mine. There were probably other calls.

And then there was the night I finally went through with it . . . and woke up in my own vomit.

I remember that young woman – a young woman whose life should have been full of promise but instead seemed so void of meaning that she saw no reason to continue it.

I remember that young woman – a young woman whose emotions were so deadened that the only thing she felt was disgust at the smell of vomit and anger at her own ineptness.

That’s what clergy sex abuse does to many of its victims.

For people who are raised with faith, faith and meaning become intertwined. The two are often so fused that, when faith gets twisted into a weapon, meaning itself is destroyed.

I was lucky to have a friend like Trish. Many other abuse survivors are not so fortunate.

My youth minister abused me. My music minister silenced me. My childhood church abandoned me. My faith betrayed me.

But my friend Trish was true.

I am profoundly grateful.

Voice of an FBC-Benton Survivor

With former Southern Baptist minister David Pierce now up for parole, and with the parole board hearing closed to the press, I thought it was important to put in print the voice of one of the boys of Benton. Posted with the permission of a courageous survivor, here are his own words.

It’s a bittersweet thing, being able to remember in all the gory detail the exact moment your life went from normal, middle class suburban WASP to something far from normal. Everything. The car (or in this case, the truck), the spot in town we were driving, the questions being asked (including that one fateful question that would begin a downward spiral that would change my life forever). Everything was so benign up to that point that the shock I experienced from hearing that question uttered aloud, at hearing what would be the first of hundreds of prying questions (and looks, and measurements and suggestions), made me completely unable to respond with anything but the truth.

Of all the many moments in my life since then that I wish I could change, this is the one I keep coming back to. The only words I’ve never been able to get out of my head, but always wanted so desperately to forget. I still hear him flippantly ask (as if wanting to know my favorite football team or my opinion on the designated hitter) “you masturbate much?” I was a 13 year-old boy. What did he think the answer to that question was? Still, looking back, he didn’t care about the answer. It wasn’t the specific words that were important. For the first and only time in my life, I passed a test I shouldn’t have.

I was such a typical kid. Especially in the Bible Belt. I grew up in church, taught from an early age to regard ministers with the utmost respect, adoration, and awe. I wasn’t a loner, nor was I one of the “cool kids.” I was smart, musically gifted, and spiritually devout. I was one of those kids that adults loved. Overall, I was a happy kid and have generally fond memories of growing up. At age eight, I started piano lessons, and in doing so found one of the only things I’d ever truly excel at. And, of course, one of the many things he would eventually steal from me.

Growing up at the largest church in a small southern suburb, my family was at church every time the doors opened. I participated in children’s choir because it was a gateway to something bigger and better. Youth choir. But not just any youth choir. One of the largest, most talented, and well-disciplined youth choirs in the state. I couldn’t wait. A place where musical ability was fostered, encouraged, and celebrated. A place where I would finally be in my element. And even better, the chance to work with one of the most respected ministers and choir directors in the Southern Baptist Community.

Anyone who didn’t grow up in the Bible Belt will never understand the pedestal even below-average ministers are placed on. The “good” ones? Forget about it. These aren’t just men who made religion a job. These are men anointed by the very right hand of God. Men whose every action, every word is approved and ordained by the big man himself. Questioning these men out loud is complete and utter blasphemy. Thinking it in your head is reason enough to pray for forgiveness.

At the end of the 7th grade there was a “retreat” for new incoming youth choir members. It was great! We hung out with the older kids (most of them officers in the choir), we sang (sometimes as a group, sometimes in a room alone with him). Looking back, it’s so obvious now (as are many other things) that this was the beginning. This was where he picked his special guys. See, men like David Pierce are many things. Sick, twisted, perverse, evil? Yup. Ignorant? No. Remember, the actions of these “men of God” were not to be called into question, especially when they had a viable Biblical explanation for what would, outside of the church, be such suspect behavior. Like Christ, David always had 3 “disciples” he was closer with. Unlike Christ, David’s top 3 “disciples” just happened to always be 13-18 year old boys.

I often think about what it was that made David identify me as an easy target. I don’t have a good answer. Looking back at some of the other victims, there are some common traits and themes. All were devout Christians. Most had some musical ability. Most did not come from single parent households. Many of us, at one point or another at First Baptist, would commit ourselves to enter the ministry. These are the young boys that would worry about impressing someone like David Pierce.

Looking at many of those same young boys as men now, you see the exact opposite trends. Broken marriages, drug and alcohol abuse, atheism, etc. The wake that is left by a predator of this nature is one of destruction, desolation, and despair. It’s no different for me now, ten plus years later, than it’s been for any other victim. Am I an alcoholic? No. But I certainly have my addictions. My marriage is still intact (some days more than others). I am not an atheist, although I would not call myself a Christian (or a man of faith) either. I am, however, a completely different person than I was during my adolescence. A completely different person than anyone, including myself, thought I would be.

In high school, by all outward appearances, I was that guy. Never cussed, never ever drank. Kind, caring, joyful. Obviously, the time I spent with David had quite a bit to do with the way others perceived me. Anyone that spends that much time in “discipleship” with such a great man of God must truly have a great relationship with Christ, right? I surrendered myself to the ministry the summer after my sophomore year of high school. Initially I wanted to go into music ministry, just like my mentor. Slowly, the more I was able to detach myself from David, the more that changed, until now I am not even a church go-er, let alone a minister. But that’s touching on the end of my story. The beginning is back at that 7th grade youth retreat. David’s personal meat market.

I firmly believe David began grooming me and 2 other boys that very night. Stroking our musical egos, telling us what potential we had to be something special. That part, at least, was completely true. The three of us had the musical potential to be something special. Like so many other things, however, that was snatched from us by a monster.

The individual attention started that week. Time spent at the church during the day, lunches, long truck rides. After David felt his grooming was adequate, the “test”. From that point forward, everything changed. The questions. The places we went. Looking back, it should’ve been so obvious what David’s motivations were. But if I’d been able to recognize that then, David would’ve never chosen me.

One of David’s most frequently used tools was our accountability time. Under the veil of (yet again) a healthy, growing relationship with Christ, we had at least weekly accountability time with David. This was mostly comprised of the 4 s’es. Each one was a specific part of our lives, the whole encompassing our entire walk with God. It was the same every time. “How are you doing spiritually?” Get that one over with first. Who wants to talk about Jesus when you can talk about sex with a 14 year old? “How are you doing scholastically?” Right, because David obviously, genuinely cared about my grades. “How are you doing socially?” Or, are you getting too close to anyone that might figure out our dirty little secret? And finally, the best for last. “How are you doing sexually?” Always last because it took the longest and was the most detailed. Of course, at the beginning the focus was on thoughts (impure thoughts, lust, etc). Because these things are evil and should never ever enter our mind. Well, at first. But then, David’s special three learned that there are exceptions. Porn in the music minister’s office? That’s ok.

It was around this time that each individual child involved learned that 2 of their closest friends also had the good fortune to be one of the chosen few. David had no issues with disclosing information from one boy to another. Comparisons in measurements (David always had us ranked mentally in terms of penis size), how far someone had ventured sexually with a girlfriend, a special masturbation technique used by another. There have been very few things to come out over the last several years that have come as a surprise to me. That was part of the way David kept us from thinking what we were doing was wrong. If it was wrong, surely he wouldn’t have told us about what he did with other guys.

Eventually, like so many other things, sharing information turned into something else. There would be fishing trips where two of us or sometimes all three of us would go. We always went to Goober Heaven. It was a place of shallow shoals, half submerged logs, and large boulders in the Saline River. David often espoused the sexual benefits of Goober Heaven. Generally he brought along his special little kit on fishing trips. It had a seamstress tape and a bottle of lubrication of some sort. It didn’t matter if it was just me and him, or all three of us and him, measurements were taken and we masturbated.
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Related posts:
"Benton, Arkansas: Minister's parole hearing is closed to press," 2/1/11
"Truth and reconciliation needed," 1/22/11
"Remember the boys of Benton," 9/13/09

Update: "Pierce parole delayed, for now," Benton Courier, 2/2/11

Benton, Arkansas: Minister's parole hearing is closed to press

From the get-go, there was a lot that seemed not-quite-right about the case of Southern Baptist minister David Pierce at the prominent First Baptist Church of Benton, Arkansas. All sorts of things seemed wrong with the picture.

Now there’s even more that seems wrong.

Less than two years into a 10-year sentence for sexual indecency with children, Pierce is up for parole. And get this: The press was denied access to the parole hearing. Why? As reported by the Benton Courier, it was what Pierce and his attorney wanted.

I guess if you’re a prominent former Southern Baptist minister, you can still get special treatment even after you’ve been convicted on multiple child sex charges and even after it has come to light that you sexually abused church-boys for a couple of decades.

In fact, if you’re a prominent former Southern Baptist minister who sexually abuses church-kids, you can get the president of the Arkansas Baptist State Convention and “powerful citizens” to write letters to the judge, urging leniency for you in sentencing.

And if you’re a prominent former Southern Baptist minister who sexually abuses church-kids, you can apparently get your parole hearing closed to the press . . . even if it’s illegal.

Tom Larimer, director of the Arkansas Press Association, said the Parole Board violated the Arkansas Freedom of Information Act in closing David Pierce’s parole hearing.

“We have researched state law to find an exemption and contacted attorney John Tull of Little Rock, who is the foremost authority on the Freedom of Information Act in Arkansas,” Larimer said.

“There is no exemption in the Act for this kind of thing . . . John Tull cannot find any authority nor precedent for ever doing this before, and it’s his opinion that this was done in violation of the Freedom of Information Act.”

But hey . . . I guess if you’re a prominent former Southern Baptist minister, the law doesn’t apply. You can get what you want . . . even if it’s illegal, and even if you have a two-decade history of sexually abusing kids.
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Related post: "Truth and reconciliation needed," 1/22/11