For over a decade now, my wife and I have attended the seasonal choral presentation of Handel’s Messiah at a church in the Fort Worth Arts District. I love the amazing musicality of each movement. But it is the interweaving of scripture from the Hebrew Bible and the New Testament that fascinates me more than anything. This year, something unusual happened during the movement called the “Pastoral Symphony”: the musicians set down their instruments while ushers swiftly collected donations from the pews.
I used the interim silence to think about what was missing between the two great bodies of Canon. My Sunday School teachers used to call this four-hundred-year interlude the “Silent Years.” However, as I later learned in seminary, there was nothing silent about it. Roman Catholics and Anglicans enjoy access to the special literature written in those days called the Apocrypha or Deuterocanonical books. Sadly, much of Protestant Christianity lost touch with this history after these stories were removed from our Bibles. I think it is a shame, really, because the literature is so very rich.
One of these stories, a parable from the longer version of Daniel, interrupts the narrative of Messiah. It tells the story of Susanna, a righteous woman who was harassed by powerful men. These two evil men conspired to force her to yield to their sexual advances or face the consequences of their fabricated charges of infidelity. Refusing to give in to their indecent proposal, her good reputation was dragged through the mud. No one believed her story because of the testimony of these the two powerful leaders in their community. In her darkest hour, she leaned in by putting her faith in God.
Then Susanna cried out with a loud voice, and said, “O eternal God, you know what is secret and are aware of all things before they come to be; you know that these men have given false evidence against me. And now I am to die, though I have done none of the wicked things that they have charged against me!” (Daniel 13:42-43 NRSVCE).
All seemed lost until God responded to her cry and put his Holy Spirit into Daniel. The freshly inspired Advocate halted the unjust execution. In a “Perry Mason” style cross-examination, Daniel picked apart the flaws of their fabricated testimonies. Consequently, Susanna was exonerated, much to the delight of the people carrying the execution stones. Justice was also served on the men. Their own words sealed their doom.
There are three very important lessons that I take away from Susanna’s account. First, God hears the cries of the vulnerable. No matter how bad things get, God will have the last word. Second, the powerless should be allowed to tell their stories. Historically, women, minorities, and the impoverished have been silenced by the majority and the powerful. Giving voice to the voiceless turns the soul of the entire community towards righteousness. Third, every defendant deserves their day in court. The evidence should be judged by a jury of peers rather than innuendo and the arena of public opinion. It has been said that the wheels of justice move slowly. In the case of the biblical Susanna, it took the initiation of the Holy Spirit to prompt discovery of the facts and eventual vindication for the innocent.
We are at a watershed moment in America where the historic culture of sexual harassment and abuse is finally being exposed and challenged at the highest and most public levels. It is astounding that for centuries we have discounted the testimonies of women and men who have been harassed. It may be that we will change the way we handle claims of abuse and sexual harassment. I can imagine that a thousand years from now, anthropologists will be scratching their heads over the puzzle of our love affair with misogyny. They will wonder how our strange civilization that glorified sex and violence managed to function at all.
The #MeToo revolution has shattered the sound proof glass of indifference and misogyny with a powerful roar of women and their allies seeking justice. This kairos moment demands a complete reassessment of how women will be treated in the workplace—and virtually every human interaction for that matter—including our places of worship. We are in the early stages of redefining the rules of engagement in ways that do not perpetuate abuse or inequalities of power. Men and women at all levels of power and influence would do well to learn the practices of compassion, humility, and repentance.
Where have our church leaders been while women were being harassed? It is not that we didn’t know about such things. Doubtless, we contributed to the damage by talking over complaints or not listening to injured people. Low-level leaders are drummed out of the ministry while high-profile leaders are protected by an impenetrable wall of silence. In our sessions, we talk about “misconduct” as if it is only about sex. We should learn from the testimonies of actors, athletes, and politicians that there are many forms of abuse of power. The sexualized assaults, in particular, are an affront to human dignity and a disgrace to our calling. At the core, they represent a rebellious refusal to recognize the Imago Dei in our fellow human beings. The #MeToo movement has opened our eyes to the painful realities of sexual harassment. However, the church leadership’s resistance to acknowledge and deal with these problems make it crystal clear that we are a long way from the “Hallelujah Chorus.” We need to spend more time in the “Pastoral Symphony” wherein the themes of nurture and protection of the vulnerable arrest our full attention. Only then can we begin to rebuild trust with those we have been called to serve and our neighbors beyond the church.
Image: Domenichino, Susanna e I Vecchioni, Galleria Doria Pamphilj, Roma (2017, May 2). Wikimedia Commons. Retrieved 16:31, April 13, 2018 from https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?title=File:Domenichino,_Susanna_e_I_Vecchioni,_Galleria_Doria_Pamphilj,_Roma.jpg&oldid=242680879.
The opinions expressed in this article are the author’s own and do not reflect the view(s) of The United Methodist Church or any other employer or institution.