An interview with Andrew Schmutzer about The Long Journey Home: Understanding and Ministering to the Sexually Abused, and part 1 of the chapter, “A Charge for Church Leadership: Speaking Out Against Sexual Abuse and Ministering to Survivors” as appearing in Pneuma Review Winter 2014.

 
A Theology of Sexuality and its Abuse—Part 1 A Theology of Sexuality and its Abuse—Part 2

 
 
A Charge for Church Leadership—Part 1 A Charge for Church Leadership—Part 2

Interview 1 Interview 2

Note from the Editors: Beginning a conversation about sexual abuse is uncomfortable, but we feel strongly that this topic is something the church needs to address. We believe the testimonies of authentic recovery can help us embrace the pain of the hurting and make openings for God to bring healing.

Pneuma Review: Do you appreciate how Nason-Clark and McMullin invite church leaders to speak out against sexual abuse as an opportunity and not as an obligation?

Andrew J. Schmutzer discussing The Long Journey Home in 2011, by Lulu Hé. Courtesy of Moody Bible Institute.

Andrew Schmutzer: To their credit, I think they were trying to cast a positive vision for making change, rather than framing the needs negatively or sternly. When there’s so much education to do to train church leaders, adopt appropriate policies for survivors, and then actively address their needs in church services—I think they put these tasks in a more positive light.

The reality is that “opportunity” sounds socially welcoming to pastoral leaders and those interested in social justice, whereas “obligation” sounds impersonal today, adding to the “deadweight” of unachievable tasks. That said, the role church leaders have—as first-responders—is an ethical and ecclesiastical responsibility to speak for those who’ve been denied a voice. I see their message being an opportunity to have an impact of a dynamic relational and spiritual kind…obligations per se, belong on check lists. Opportunities exist for those willing to be relationally vulnerable.

PR: Please share with us a testimony of speaking out against sexual abuse.

Andrew Schmutzer: It’s understood when working with abuse survivors, your story is your story and their story is their own. So while I’m aware of many abuse stories, and have a growing army of friends learning to live on the other side of abuse, I’m not comfortable speaking of others’ personal stories.

What I can say is that I’ve conducted some very meaningful chapels at Moody, where I teach. Several weeks out, I have students submit their personal abuse stories to me by email. They know their story will be used anonymously. Having collected around 20 individual stories, I have two students volunteer to read portions of these stories, which the survivors knew would be done. With mics located in the back of the auditorium, the male student reads the other male stories submitted, and he alternates with a female reader reading portions of women’s stories. This testimony part is one of the most powerful parts of these chapels, as students hear some very painful stories from their own peers! Written prayers of lament, responsive readings, prayer circles, candles, oil, and other meaningful rituals can be woven into these student chapels. Would you believe, they can’t wait for the next one the following semester!

An interview with Andrew Schmutzer about The Long Journey Home: Understanding and Ministering to the Sexually Abused, and part 2 of his chapter, “A Theology of Sexuality and its Abuse: Creation, Evil, and the Relational Ecosystem” as appearing in Pneuma Review Fall 2013.

 
A Theology of Sexuality and its Abuse—Part 1 A Theology of Sexuality and its Abuse—Part 2

Interview 1 Interview 3

Note from the Editors: Beginning a conversation about sexual abuse is uncomfortable, but we feel strongly that this topic is something the church needs to address. We believe the testimonies of authentic recovery can help us embrace the pain of the hurting and make openings for God to bring healing.

Pneuma Review: You wrote, “Christian theology has historically separated culture from nature and nature from theology, which unfortunately has dichotomized the temporal from eternal, material from the spiritual, and so creation from redemption.” Please give us some examples of this.

Andrew Schmutzer:

Andrew J. Schmutzer discussing The Long Journey Home in 2011, by Lulu Hé. Courtesy of Moody Bible Institute.

My point here is to inform the reader of how common dualisms are in Western theology (e.g., body vs. soul, etc.). These polarities are more anesthetizing than energizing and this has had a devastating effect on a theology of personhood (what is called anthropology). Western Christianity as a whole has emphasized a highly individualized salvation. Eschatologically separated from creation and community, salvation, as it has traditionally been taught, has scorned the physical world and with it human embodied sexuality. In practice, it has been part of Christian pietism to associate sexuality with the “world, the flesh, and the devil,”—all bound to sinful humanity. Waiting for this world to just “burn up” and a better one to begin does not welcome people to live now. An isolated salvation has resulted in an isolated life, a simplistic human being, and a simplistic view of trauma.

An emphasis on a “deeper” spirituality has been code for ignoring the complexities of embodied life, on the one hand, and declaring “victory” over suffering, on the other hand. Along with a minimization of the physical realities of life, this world view can loom so large that there is little if any basis for physical and relational consequences of sin in relationships. When grace becomes perfectionistic, the raw pain of an abused teenager can be easily dismissed with reminders that “one day we’ll all shuck this physical container, anyway.” As a survivor, I’ve heard such statements as: “Just move on to victory,” “Just submit to the Holy Spirit,” “All things are new in Christ Jesus,” and others. Making such statements to a victim—especially from a non-survivor—actually rejects their pain, informs them they can’t be frustrated with God, and ignores the embodied realities of their suffering (e.g., dissociation, panic attacks, cutting, gastro-intestinal illnesses, etc.).

Abuse tears apart the wholeness of a person. Abuse does not merely objectify a person, it coldly approaches and latches on, hobbling its victim with complex wounds. As such, sexual abuse de-personalizes because it tears out pieces of the person that are intimately connected to the larger fullness of being. This violation does not extinguish life, it deadens life along a spectrum of security and terror, respect and shame—wholeness and brokenness.

An excerpt from The Long Journey Home: Understanding and Ministering to the Sexually Abused, edited by Andrew J. Schmutzer. From Pneuma Review Fall 2013.

The Long Journey Home

A Theology of Sexuality and its Abuse

Creation, Evil, and the Relational Ecosystem

Part 2

 by Andrew J. Schmutzer

The Relational Ecosystem: Sexuality Amid Consequences

Christian theology has historically separated culture from nature and nature from theology, which unfortunately has dichotomized the temporal from eternal, material from the spiritual, and so creation from redemption.¹¹⁷ “Science has now stepped in as lord of the domain which man used to refer to Creation.”¹¹⁸ All this has left a fragmented universe¹¹⁹ and a truncated salvation that lacks holism and restoration (cf. Rom 8:19–22).¹²⁰ This is disconcerting at several levels.

As God’s vice-regents, people live and interact within a *relational ecosystem of dynamic proportion.¹²¹ In the garden-sanctuary, foundational bonds are established between: the human and God, humankind and the ground, human and animal, and between humans. Though somewhat distasteful to contemporary readers, in the theology of Genesis, one’s place of origin and the nature of their birth determine the core characteristics and purpose in life.¹²² In addition to humankind made in the image of God (1:26, discussed above), other significant “bindings” include: the “human” (’ādām) extracted from the “humus” (’ădāmâ, 2:7) and the “woman” (’iššâ) extracted from the “man” (’iš, 2:22). So Adam is uniquely bound to the fertility of the soil as Eve is uniquely bound to the fertility of the body.¹²³ The animals are also “formed out of the ground” (2:19) as “creatures that move on the ground” (1:30). Thus, the biblical notion of self is a relationally “embedded” self, rooted in a web of extended relationships.¹²⁴ This contrasts with the Western value of the individual as an unembedded self. It’s important to observe then, how the relational ecosystem is shattered in Genesis 3. The mistrust of rebellion breaks this web of relationships (3:5).

The “Bindings” Break Apart

Both functional and relational,¹²⁵ the compensatory judgments of 3:14–19 follow the order of transgression (serpent → woman → man; cf. 3:1–7).¹²⁶ Naham M. Sarna helpfully observes that the judgment for each party not only: (1) affects what is of central concern in the life of that entity, (2) but also regulates an external relationship.¹²⁷ Thus, there is some measure of correspondence between the offense and the judgment, point of origin, and future orientation. Relational hostility will exist between humans and the serpent (3:15).¹²⁸ The woman will pursue fertility amid relational antagonism with the man (3:16b).¹²⁹ Similarly, the man pursues the soil’s fertility amid its antagonism (3:17–18). Their points of origin no longer offer security or fulfillment. While the Creation Mandate remains, it is pain and alienation that bind relationships now (Gen 5:29; Eccl 2:23). The man’s “painful toil” (῾ṣābôn, 3:17) working the ground repeats her “pains” (etseb) enduring childbirth (3:16).¹³⁰ A final bond is ruptured when the couple is “banished” from the presence of the Lord (3:23). Once Abel’s blood soaks into “the ground” (4:10), it “will no longer yield its crops” for Cain (4:12), and ultimately a pervasive “wickedness” reigns in “the human heart” (6:6), stunningly matched by the “pain” (atsab) of the Lord’s grieving “heart” (6:6).¹³¹ Sin has ecological and cosmic effects—from creature to Creator, the entire relational ecosystem now suffers (6:7; Deut 11:13–17; Rom 8:22).

Editorial Introduction

Please join us for a short series reprinting chapters from The Long Journey Home: Understanding and Ministering to the Sexually Abused.

Beginning a conversation about sexual abuse is uncomfortable, but we feel strongly that this topic is something the church needs to address. We believe the testimonies of authentic recovery can help us embrace the pain of the hurting and make openings for God to bring healing.

Several terms, prompted by an asterisk (*), have been defined by pastors, therapists, and theologians that contributed to the book and are included in a select glossary. Please also continue the conversation with Andrew Schmutzer as he answers questions throughout this series.

An excerpt from The Long Journey Home: Understanding and Ministering to the Sexually Abused, edited by Andrew J. Schmutzer.

There is a mystery to sexuality that demands respect. The most treasured relationships in Scripture—personal, national, and divine—draw deeply on sexual imagery: “as a bridegroom rejoices over his bride, so will your God rejoice over you” (Isah 62:5b, cf. Rev 21:2, 9).1 Paul’s language to the Corinthians also employs sacred motifs of sexuality: “I promised you to one husband, to Christ, so that I might present you as a pure virgin to him” (2 Cor 11:2b). Appropriately, Brueggemann states:

[F]aith that must resort to the most erotic imagery to speak about a covenantal relationship that operates at the deepest levels of trust and intimacy is useful indeed … the outcome of such usage is a relationship glorious in its intimacy and costly in its brokenness. The Bible understands that sexuality is the ultimate arena of cost and joy.²

So how does a sexually abused child carry both cost and joy into their adult life? How does a young woman anticipate her marriage—“glorious in its intimacy”—when her own father has sexually betrayed her during her years of nurture, leaving his child with a defining experience “costly in its brokenness?” Sexuality may be “personal,” but it is never private.³ Whether in brokenness or gloriousness, sexuality functions within a grand web of embodied relationships that are fragile, connected, and enduring.

Sexual Abuse, Scripture and Theology: A Messy Obligation

In this chapter we focus on a *biblical theology of sexuality primarily through the texts of creation (Genesis 1–3). Secondarily, we will observe how sexuality and its desecration reverberates through Scripture: in narratives of sexual violation (e.g., 2 Samuel 13), in Jesus’ prescriptive model for human sexual behavior (Mark 10:6–9), and in Paul’s letter of moral exhortation (1 Thess 4:1–8). Throughout, however, our chief interest is in the significance of the relational dynamics that surround sexuality and its violation, including agency, consequences, *intergenerational transmission, and the way sin, evil, and community are portrayed in violence that is sexual in nature.

Using a biblical theological approach enables us to highlight literary, historical, and thematic trajectories in these texts. Further, a combination of these elements, within the context of Christian faith, forms a “plausibility structure”⁴ of Scriptural reading that is sensitive to the on-going truths of these biblical stories—both the horizontal and vertical realities of human sexuality.⁵ After all, the “horizontal dimensions of biblical theology cannot be separated from the vertical ones: love of neighbor is practiced within the claim divine love makes upon humankind.”⁶ Note this relational dynamic that James K. Mead highlights in his useful definition:

Biblical theology seeks to identify and understand the Bible’s theological message and themes, as well as how the Bible witnesses to those themes and to whom and by whom it declares that message. The outcome of such investigation will lead us to hear what the Bible says about God’s being, words, and actions; about God’s relationship to all creation, especially humankind; and about the implications this divine-human encounter has for relationships between human beings.⁷

The literature on gender, sexuality, and *sexual ethics is a veritable explosion⁸ as there are diverse groups, approaches, and issues at stake.⁹ Adequately addressing people who have a history of *sexual abuse (SA) is a complex undertaking. It requires a multiplex approach: an interplay of social-sciences, pastoral *empathy, and relational categories capable of addressing the “attack-factor” of physical violation, *intrafamilial betrayal, biblical *anthropology, and the *disorganized relational associations that can be both cause and effect. Along with the victim’s psychological damage are also composite issues of *spiritual incest and theological trauma—healing for victims often requires “chasing down” the God who never showed up or worse, sat passively by!¹⁰ In fact, the complexity of issues surrounding SA—chaos at numerous levels—is part of the reason our understanding of SA needs a more holistic articulation and implementation, making trans-disciplinary studies like this necessary.

Andrew J. Schmutzer, “A Theology of Sexual Abuse: A Reflection on Creation and Devastation” JETS 51:4 (Dec 2008).

Andrew J. Schmutzer, Professor of Biblical Studies at Moody Bible Institute (Chicago, IL).

In what follows I plan to intersperse a review of Andrew J. Schmutzer’s “A Theology of Sexual Abuse: A Reflection on Creation and Devastation,” with my own reflections as both a survivor of sexual abuse and an ordained clergyman. Salient points from Schmutzer’s article will be highlighted and then a few suggestions will be offered as to what the church can do in response toward healing the devastating effects of sexual abuse within and without its ranks.

I would like to begin with a few disclaimers: first, I am a survivor of sexual abuse; I am a survivor, not a victim, and these words are chosen with a purpose so as to emphasize the continual effects of past actions laid upon me by someone who shared (roughly) half of my genetic code. Second, I find the church to be woefully inadequate, currently, in addressing its members who have incurred sexual abuse in their past. Third, I contend that my experience of sexual abuse has profoundly impacted the trajectory of my life; although recognizing that all analogies are inadequate in the end analysis, one of the illustrations that I use to liken sexual abuse unto refers to the common game of billiards. When one plays billiards, the way that one initially hits the cue ball is the most important aspect. If one miscues, the cue ball will continue to go forward (or progress), but the initial target will invariably be missed; the trajectory of its path is altered, and the initial mistake has profound consequences on its entire voyage until it finally comes to rest. Sexual abuse functions, in many ways, just like the miscue on the billiard ball. Indeed, the survivor may continue to go forward, but they will invariably miss the initial target of their lives, with the effects of the sexual abuse permeating their entire disposition until they finally come to rest (in the grave).

Schmutzer correctly notes that healing for victims of abuse seeks to mend profound “fractures” within the survivor and the abusing party. As Schmutzer intimates, the traditional reconciliation paradigm may not apply to sexual abuse. I would like to more boldly state that the abused often has no desire for reconciliation with the offending party; they do not hold grudges but simply cut off that area of their lives, looking to move forward. Whether this is wrong or right, I am sure opinions exist on both sides. However, I believe that until someone is sexually abused, they have no place to speak. In sexual abuse, forgiveness may be granted, but reconciliation is usually stymied due to the deep erosion of trust and respect. It is not that one dislikes the perpetrator; the survivor is, if you will, merely indifferent to their existence. Personally, I have no desire for “reconciliation;” I just want to move onward, and that should be respected. I sense that other survivors would agree this assessment.