On the Topic of Loss

I've never spoken publicly on what I'm about to write. I've grown up to be a reasonably healthy adult, which is more than I can say for some. Not all have gone on to lead productive lives, or have healthy relationships with people who love them. We all have our journey, and this is one small part of mine...

When I was a preteen, I was abused by a family member. It was abrupt, violent, and painful. It was also not an isolated incident. To be perfectly forthright, I don't really remember too many details, except for the most pertinent. Even at that, the memories are clouded by the very deliberate efforts to bury the pain and embarrassment of it all. It was not until the perpetrator came to me to apologize that those memories became available to me. In my humble estimation, they were granted to me in the most spiteful way possible.

My attacker is also one of Jehovah's Witnesses. Rather than dig into the nauseatingly common references to the Australian Royal Commission, the Charity Commission, or any other references to Witness policies on pedophiles, I'd simply like to discuss the realities of my aftermath.

The most immediate and obvious effect was the loss of my innocence. Family was always a focus as I grew up. Our reunions were wonderful, joyous times. The were precious to me. Sadly, it was during one of these reunions that I was exposed to the brutal truth that even family could be willing to hurt me. That's a lesson that shouldn't even exist. It should be true that family can't or wont hurt you. It was unfortunate to learn that at such an age I could be so wrong.

I lost my faith in people as well. Someone who could be so loved, as he was by the rest of my family, was nothing more than a charlatan. Those who loved him were either complicit or ignorant. Either way, they were unworthy of trust. What I would find out later drove a spike of bitterness into an already aching wound.

But I moved on. I watched my associations at later reunions, gave up on activities I used to enjoy, and generally lost my taste for even being there. There were bright spots, of course; usually by way of my cousin Mandy. As an adult, I just gave up going altogether. It wasn't worth the spoiled weekend to stay as far away from him as I could. You never really stop looking over your shoulder after something like that.

As I aged, the memories became buried. I even stopped understanding why I didn't want to go. The aversion was palpable, but not quantifiable. The thought of even setting foot on those grounds was repulsive to me and I had long ceased understanding why. I had lost my family.

Time continued on and I had my own family. It was not all sunshine and roses, sadly, and we eventually separated. During that time, I spent a bit of time at the old family homestead with my daughter and parents. Quite unexpectedly, my attacker arrived for some unexplained reason. He talked with my parents for a while with their typical cordiality. Afterward, he caught up with me in the yard, away from curious ears.

It was almost as if a cloud followed him. Blurry at the edges, I couldn't quite grasp my unease. But I knew it was there nonetheless. It was then that he apologized to me. A very quick, disgusting, and painful highlight reel flashed before my eyes. I both understood my unease in an instant, and wanted to deny its foundation. But there it was. All out in the open after twenty years of silence. I had lost my comfort zone.

The explanation of why he was now apologizing was almost as distasteful as the act for which he apologized. He'd been found out due to another victim stepping forward. He had confessed his sin to the Elders and, as part of his penance, he was to seek forgiveness from his victim(s). I couldn't respond to that request at the time, but I was later encouraged to pray over the matter and seek Jehovah's direction. The matter would remain internal, as nearly all child abuse matters do with Witnesses.

What the elders did for him was to give him absolution. When they did that, they implied that all was right with Jehovah's organization. The scales of righteousness were in balance and there was no need to pursue the matter further. When they asked me to seek God's guidance in handling it as a Christian, they explicitly asked me to deal with it as a congregational matter. I had lost my hope and expectation of justice.

The world cares more about righting the wrongs of victims than the Society does. The elders, my attacker, and anyone else who had intimate knowledge of my ordeal, exhibited more concern for the soul of a predator than for those who should never have been prey. I received no counseling with an eye towards healing. I received no support. I received no backing to report it to secular authorities.

The aftermath was mine to bear. Alone. I had lost my God.

The bible is very clear about what happens to those who commit crimes of various types. With the exception of cities of refuge, people guilty of crimes, including rape, were to be punished. The law of God made sure that victims were vindicated. That is a practice that Watchtower has long since cast aside.

Now, I don't want to downplay the importance of redemption. I believe that it's important that all human error have an opportunity to be righted. The simple truth is that often redemption takes the form of settling one's debts. Absolution relieves the burden, but not the obligation. Absolution is what elders offer to pedophiles. In doing so, they leave the injured without succor.

 

With that, they have lost me.