Sermon for March 11 - Domestic Violence and Abuse

I’d like to start out by reading some words of poetry.

Open your ears, God, to my prayer;

don't pretend you don't hear me knocking.
   Come close and whisper your answer.
      I really need you.
   I shudder at the mean voice,
      quail before the evil eye,
   As they pile on the guilt,
      stockpile angry slander.

 My insides are turned inside out;
      specters of death have me down.
   I shake with fear,
      I shudder from head to foot.
   "Who will give me wings," I ask—
      "wings like a dove?"
   Get me out of here on dove wings;
      I want some peace and quiet.
   I want a walk in the country,
      I want a cabin in the woods.
   I'm desperate for a change
      from rage and stormy weather.

 This isn't the neighborhood bully
      mocking me—I could take that.
   This isn't a foreign devil spitting
      invective—I could tune that out.
   It's you! We grew up together!
      You! My best friend!
   Those long hours of leisure as we walked
      arm in arm, God a third party to our conversation.

And this, my best friend, betrayed his best friends;
      his life betrayed his word.
   All my life I've been charmed by his speech,
      never dreaming he'd turn on me.
   His words, which were music to my ears,
      turned to daggers in my heart.

As some of you may remember from a couple of weeks ago, that this season of Lent we will be journeying to those social deserts, those places we never want to talk about.  And today, we will be discussing domestic violence.  The words that I read, they are words of pain and sorrow.  The author was betrayed by someone they loved, and so they live in a world of fear, as words of music became words of death.  The poet cries out to God, saying “Don’t pretend you don’t hear my cries, O God!  Take me away from this terror, give me the wings of a dove, let me go to some place where I can escape this.”

I cannot even begin to imagine what the experience is like, and I won’t pretend to.  But words like this seem to carry something within them, something that resonates, something that cries out through the author.  Listen again.

Re-read words.

Has anyone heard this poem before?  Or possibly read it? This past week I have been reading a lot of poetry written by women survivors of domestic violence.  Many of the authors cry out for people to hear them.  Many of the authors try to grapple with why someone who claims to love them, could do something so horrible.  They evoke a sense of betrayal, a sense of fear and loss.  At times they bring forth feelings of anger and vengeance.  They are wondrous words of lament.  I was not sure about sharing someone else’s words around so intimate a subject, so instead I chose this poem.  I chose this poem because it is from Psalm 55, from the Message translation, and it carries with it all the same themes that kept showing up in every other poem I read.

Re-read a few selections.

A few facts about domestic violence.  First off, what is it?  This definition is taken from the FaithTrust Institute (http://www.faithtrustinstitute.org/), as are all the statistics I’ll give you.  “Domestic violence refers to a pattern of violent and coercive behavior exercised by one adult in an intimate relationship over another. It is not marital conflict, mutual abuse, a lovers quarrel, or a private family matter. It may consist of repeated, severe beatings or more subtle forms of abuse, including threats and control.”

It is reported to occur in 28% of homes.  These, however, are only estimates based on reports and surveys.  The number is probably higher.  By far, the majority of victims of domestic violence are women.  1 in four women will experience domestic violence in their lifetime.  Witnessing domestic violence in the home, is the strongest risk factor in transmitting violent behavior on to children.  Boys who witness domestic violence are twice as likely to abuse their own partners and children.  Sexual violence and child abuse, are very much related to Domestic Violence, though each could have a sermon to themselves.

For a long time, our scripture, our church has not opposed these horrible crimes.  At best, we have just remained silent, turning our backs on the issue, not offering ears to those whose voices cry out.  At worst our sacred texts, our Gospel story has been used as a weapon against victims.  Perpetrators, or clergy will cite the bible to ensure women believe they are subservient to men, or to force them to stay in abusive relationships.

These I think are misappropriations of scripture and theology. But the Bible still in places seems to condone a violent theology.  These are referred to as “texts of terror”, they highlight a theology of atonement, of sacrifice, they place women as subservient to men, they say that violence is ok.  Each example could receive a sermon to themselves.  I won’t make excuses for them.  They are there, and they need to be dealt with.  But those passages from scripture which can be pulled out from here or there, contradict with the great Gospel message. 

This is the message that we hear spoken in the words of lament from Psalm 55, and Psalm 22 that we read earlier today.  This is the Good news that echos throughout every single one of the Old Testament Prophets, and is woven in and out of the New Testament Epistles.  It is the Good News that walks with the Hebrews out of slavery, throughout their captivity, and cries forth from the apocalyptic book of Revelation.

The Good News that God is on the side of the oppressed.  The Good News that God created us to love us.

You cannot pull out enough one liners from scripture that will contradict the Easter story of Christ which we are leading up to this season.  This is the image that lies at the heart of the Christian faith.

Women and children are crucified everyday.  Crucified by those they love, those they have embraced and held close.  They cry out, “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?”  Often they are abandoned by friends, by family, by churches who should be crying out with them, who should be attending and responding to the violence; people who instead fall asleep or deny, deny, deny.  Every time violence is committed in a household, every time abuse occurs, a cross is raised. 

Yet, in Christ we hear God say, “I have been there, I am there, and I will be there with you tomorrow.”

This powerful image of the cross responds directly to the violence of the world.  It says without reservation, that though crosses will be raised up, though the violence of the world will try to reign, though the powerful may try to claim control over things.  They will not win.  Easter Sunday, the story of the Resurrection answers violence, answers oppression, answers abuse, with a resounding “No!” from God, who says “I control life!  Not you and your forces!  And as you have seen from my life on Earth, I am on the side of those who are wounded.”

Domestic violence is NOT the cross people are asked to bear by God, rather it is the cross upon which God joins them.

No one ever deserves to be the victim of abuse.  There is no excuse that can ever be made to make an act of abuse, or a system of abuse acceptable in any way shape or form.  It is the fault of the perpetrator, the one who may try to wash their hands of it, the one who drives in the nails.  It is their responsibility to repent, to change their lives, and that is a whole other sermon. 

God does NOT want us to be crucified.  God does NOT condone abuse.  God who knit us together in our mother’s wombs, God who hovers over us as a hen over her chicks, God who would choose to join us in our flesh, in our skin, who would live intimately with us, only wants love for each and every one of us.

This is the Good News that we must proclaim as the Body of Christ, as the people of the Way.  We are called to not only proclaim with our words, but with our hearts and with our actions, that we will stand with victims and survivors of domestic violence, of child abuse, of sexual violence.  That we will openly resist any system which says that is ok, that says women and children are subservient to men.  We must say that those who commit such acts must turn their lives around, and they must accept that they are responsible for their actions, that they must make amends and will face consequences, if they truly seek sanctification.  We must embody that same compassion that God holds for each and every one of us, share that same love, offer words of hope that things do not have to be this way.  As people of Christ, how can we do anything but?