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Religion and rape

Abuse and Mystical Language

by Johanna Stiebert on
portrait of the author

Today’s post is by Dr. Ruth Kara-Ivanov Kaniel, who is senior lecturer in the Department of Jewish History at the University of Haifa, as well as research fellow in both the Kogod Center at the Shalom Hartman Institute in Jerusalem and the Tel Aviv Institute for Contemporary Psychoanalysis. Her research is focused on the intersections between mysticism, gender, and psychoanalysis. Her books are Holiness and Transgression: Mothers of the Messiah in the Jewish Myth (Academic Studies Press, 2017), The Feminine Messiah: King David in the Image of the Shekhina in Kabbalistic Literature (Brill, 2021), and Human Ropes – Birth in Kabbalah and Psychoanalysis (De Gruyter, 2022). The latter won the Gorgias Press competition in the category Jewish Thought. Her forthcoming book deals with dreams and revelations of kabbalists. Ruth is also a poet and editor of poetry, as well as translator of Russian poetry into Hebrew. 

Ruth has researched the topics of prostitution, incest, and abuse in terms of how these are rooted in sacred textual sources such as the Bible, Midrash, and Kabbalistic literature. In recent years, she has been supporting women who have experienced sexual abuse, alongside therapists working in this area.

*This post is an adapted and updated version of an earlier publication by Ruth (see here). **The picture is used with Ruth’s permission.

In recent years, harrowing accounts have come to light in Israel, as women have reported experiences of ritual and group-facilitated sexual abuse during childhood. The memories they suppressed (believing them to be fantasies or delusions) are now being recounted, set in motion by testimonies of other women who were harmed in similar groups and ways within ultra-Orthodox and Religious Zionist worlds. These women often suffer from severe post-traumatic stress. Eight testimonies were recently compiled and brought before the Knesset; these testimonies were recorded with the complainants’ faces and identities concealed (see here).

According to the survivors’ testimonies, the abusive rituals involved the use of biblical verses, the recitation of prayers, and the performance of brutal acts based on perversions of mystical and Kabbalistic practices. Distressingly, the phenomena of ritual abuse, paedophilia and child abuse exist far and wide. Nevertheless, there is a distinctive dimension to the perversions and violations perpetrated by rabbis and other figures of religious and halakhic authority. This article seeks to illuminate some of the Kabbalistic roots of these power dynamics operating within Jewish circles of exploitation and abuse, and to examine their conceptual, theoretical, and spiritual dimensions.

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Charismatic rabbis have engaged in exploitative relationships and both spiritual and sexual abuse; they are responsible but addressing the harm this abuse continues to cause rests with all of us.

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Great power and magic are inherent in Kabbalistic theories of redemption growing out of sin; these theories claim that the means to redemption are found through breaking boundaries and reversal of good and evil. This theme of inversion cuts across the Zoharic literature and the writings of Rabbi Isaac Luria (the ARI) and appears also in many Hasidic sermons. Paradoxical Kabbalistic approaches contain the principle according to which not only God has “created worlds and destroyed them” (before creating our world, as described in Genesis Rabbah 3:7) but human beings also destroy while completing their task of repair (tikkun). As early as rabbinic literature we find sayings such as, “greater is a transgression performed with good intent than a commandment performed without good intent” (Gedolah aveirah lishmah me-mitzvah she-lo lishmah, Babylonian Talmud Nazir 23b); these were later woven into Kabbalistic and Hasidic messianic mythology.

Clear examples can be found in the writings of Rabbi Mordechai Yosef Leiner of Isbitza, in particular his Mei HaShiloach, which develops an in-depth theory of the greatness of the sinner’s soul. His thought has gained considerable popularity in the world of Zionist-religious yeshivot,[1] especially in the “spiritual” streams (in yeshivot such as Otniel, Eli, Siach Yitzhak, and even in streams like Merkaz HaRav and Har HaMor), and also in new-age culture, in the neo-Hasidic space that has developed in recent decades.  [I discuss the mystical background of the Mei HaShiloach’s Judaic and antinomian[2] messianism and its influence on contemporary spiritual approaches elsewhere. I am happy to provide pointers to exploring this further to anyone interested.]

Next, I will briefly address the danger of copying mystical and spiritual language, whose goal is cleaving to the divine and attainment of holiness and union with God, into exploitative human-to-human relationships, which take place in contexts of gender-based power hierarchies and/or bonds between teacher and student and where the goal is achieving sexual, emotional or other satisfactions at the expense of harm to another human being.

I do not write this in a vacuum. In recent years, terrible incidents have come to light, of charismatic Jewish spiritual leaders, some of whom have come from the Kabbalistic-Hasidic and neo-Hasidic world, who through their teachings and authority have exploited and harmed women or male students. Has the idea of the “holy sinner” come to serve as a corrupting and dangerous example? Should we routinely view with suspicion groups of men studying in hevruta,[3] who are fascinated by the theory of redemption borne from sin? It seems, yes. It should be noted that in almost all research on neo-Hasidism there is scant treatment – and often complete disregard – of ethical questions and of the use of the rhetoric of “holiness” for the purpose of exploitation, including sexual exploitation. But when this is not acknowledged, it cannot be warned or guarded against.

One attraction of the Mei HaShiloach’s thought is the freedom this work assumes for the rabbinic teacher as interpreter and the apparent freedom he bestows on his students. These are joined by originality of thought, extreme creativity and teachings of Zoharic and Lurianic Kabbalah.[4] From the time I first encountered such teachings in my youth, I also admired the teachers who revealed to me the dialectic of the reversal of good and evil, redemption and sin. Later on, I devoted my first book to the study of this topic in the Midrash[5] and the Zohar, in order to explore the multifaceted messianic myth that was developed from the stories of the house of David.[6] In my book, I seek to address the price women pay for redemption, alongside giving recognition to their contribution to Jewish history. One of my claims is that in the face of death, exploitation, sexual abandonment and harm, David’s foremothers – the daughters of Lot (Genesis 19), Tamar (Genesis 38), Ruth (book of Ruth) and Batsheva (wife of David and mother of his royal successor, Solomon, 2 Samuel 11–12) – give birth and bring forth life. Indeed, in this messianic lineage, the journey to giving birth passes through using women’s bodies: this being the only resource available to these women to gain any measure of agency; their bodies are the tools for survival and struggle against their male-dominated reality. In the conclusion of my book, I propose that perhaps the myth has been inaccurately understood by men who have sought to use it to develop a theory that glorifies sin and transgression of boundaries. When considering the contemporary context, it is valuable, I find, to make use of psychological theories to further explain the kinds of boundary violations we see both in traditional sources and contemporary society.

Confusion of tongues

Many cases of sexual violence can be attributed to exploitative relationships that take place between teachers and their students or between older, empowered men and (usually young) women. Such, for example, was the case of Rabbi Ezra Sheinberg from Safed, who committed sex crimes against multiple women on the pretext that he was providing therapy and helping them heal (see here).

In order to explain the victims’ submission and the way in which the transition is made from enchanted, subversive thought or ideas to abuse realised in practice, I will utilize the psychological theory developed by Sandor Ferenczi. Ferenczi, a Hungarian Jewish psychoanalyst, coined the term “confusion of tongues” to describe a mechanism of exploitation in the family for application in therapeutic structures.[7] A typical way in which incestuous “seductions,” for instance, may occur is this: an adult male and a child love each other and the child nurses the playful fantasy of taking the role of the mother vis-a-vis the adult male. This play may assume erotic forms but remains, nevertheless, on the level of tenderness. It is not so, however, with pathological adults who mistake the play of children for the desires of sexually mature persons or who—irrespective of any consequences—follow their own sexual drive and consciously violate the child (Confusion of Tongues, p. 227).

According to Ferenczi, the conflict in the soul of the child between love and identification with the adult who had formerly protected them, and the assault that they experience, causes confusion, until “[their] trust in the testimony of [their] senses is broken.” This deluded and deceptive state is the key to why the victim is rendered acutely vulnerable and compliant. In this imbalanced and manipulative relationship, the child is not able to believe (or perceive) how the adult with whom they identify and to whom they direct love is the one who harms them with cruel exploitation. They are in a state of “paralyzing confusion.” The breaking of trust in the testimony of their senses may even cause them to perceive the horrific deeds done to them as somehow benevolent.

Using Ferenczi’s example of the confusion of tongues between children and adults, I can see analogies with other cases of sexual exploitation that are infrequently discussed: namely, “seduction” that relies on the confusion of tongues between Kabbalistic spirituality and lawlessness, holiness and licentiousness. Here, the theory of redemption borne of defilement may distance a person from their gloomy life and daily hardships; for some it may provide an apparent solution to the sense of guilt at their sexuality, sexual proclivities, or the weakness they feel with regard to their sexual urges, and to shame regarding acts that are perceived as taboo from a Kabbalistic perspective, such as “spilling of seed.” Glorification of the sin might provide a person with a feeling of self-mythologization and an aura of radiance, an illusion of omnipotence, a feeling of rescue from emotional suffering (however temporary), or integration into an anarchistic, nationalist and/or cosmic movement. The scope for harm when this transpires in sexual exploitation – even if confusion leads to a paralysis, a suspension of resistance, or apparent compliance – is considerable.

An example of such exploitation by a powerful religious figure is the case of the Breslov leader Eliezer Berland who fled Israel after he was arrested for sex crimes. Later, however, he continued to lead the Shuvu Banim community (having served a short time in prison to be released on a plea bargain). Some of the women who testified against Berland said that he promised “to raise them to the world of Atzilut (nobility),” and forced them into sexual relations while reading the Tikkun HaKlali of Rabbi Nachman.[8] In cases like this, spiritual concepts are weaponized by authority figures. Presumably, the abused women were steeped in the concepts and ideals related to Atzilut and Tikkun, and this helped to confound or anesthetize their opposition and to bring them into submission to a charismatic authority figure with many staunch followers.

I myself can testify that I have met rabbinic figures who claimed that they were reincarnations of Jewish heroes, Rabbi Nachman or the Baal Shem Tov, and who did what they forbade to others, adopting “messianic” customs and using concepts such as “transgression for its own sake” and hora’at sha’a (“the demands of the hour”) to explain away their subversive acts. While reading sermons that glorify the power of the sinner’s repentance, both students and teachers can be tempted to say to themselves, “I am not a regular person. The law and the limitations were intended for simple people, but not for a great and deep soul such as mine. Crossing a boundary is my way to personal redemption, and from there also to general redemption.” In such cases, there is danger both to the person who believes this and to those who might fall under their spell or force. On the one hand, within such a person there is a likely rise of narcissism, and the language of crossing boundaries and prohibitions might overcome inhibitions and transpire in transgression. On the other hand, behaviour deriving from this may become characterized by instrumentalizing and abusive conduct.

The appreciation and admiration of a student for their teacher and the charismatic aspect in a spiritual leader’s persona are constantly in the background of learning relationships, but it seems that the danger is especially prevalent in study halls (batei midrash) in which the main work is based on emotional mystical experiences, and where the learning process is built on what Emmanuel Levinas has termed “the temptation of temptation.”[9] In these cases, the preoccupation is not with the content of the Torah itself, but with the way in which it attracts a person to be tempted to follow or not follow it, transgressing the Torah’s boundaries and the individual’s boundaries.

Spiritual Harassment and Emotional Perversion

It is easy to imagine the dizzying feeling of a powerful connection with an admired and trusted teacher – especially a teacher who promises experiences of walking on the edge of the abyss, of exaltation and of excitement that intermingles holiness and sin, loftiness and erotic transgression. However, it is precisely in these liminal or extreme spaces that faithfulness to ethical and humane values is especially necessary, as is a strong grounding in the soil of the real world. Any exploration and growth from there to the domains of the infinite requires firm foundations.

Moreover, we live in an era where there have been many revelations of harm caused by systemic abuse and abuse of authority, including in religious settings. Consequently, we must be alert to appeals to spiritual ideals which could constitute a powerful person’s means to controlling those less powerful than themselves, including for the satisfaction of their own abusive desires. This can and does take the form of men coercing women to “serve” them, including with appeals to sacred sources and by claiming “devotion” or “submission” are exalted feminine ideals. It can and has also taken the form of a teacher manipulating a student into having sex so that something of the teacher’s spirit can, allegedly, be “transmitted” to the student. Another example can take a different form, of teachers appropriating and taking credit for students’ work, taking advantage of their efforts while erasing their names. This, too, can be done while using Kabbalistic terminology – such as on the pretext that this is part of the “process of repair (tikkun),” or a “descent for the sake of ascent,” or the nullification of self for the sake of the tzaddik, the great one of the generation, the unique chosen one. The history of Jewish messianic movements shows multiple instances where women’s efforts and activities, too, were appropriated by men. It shows traces of women prophets and mystics whose names are lost to us, women leaders and heroines whose labours were erased, with credit and prominence going to the men in these movements.[10]

We should listen carefully when charismatic leaders talk about “being a vessel for the infinite,” or “a conduit for the overflow” that descends from above. Sometimes these words are said in innocence, but sometimes with the power to “train” others to become accustomed to instrumentalization or subservience. Such words can prepare one to being used, excusing the matter as having spiritual, ennobling value. These instances and similar ones testify not to holiness but to perversion and/or exploitation.

Abusers get satisfaction from enslaving another to their desires. This can seem harmful not only to the victim but to the abuser’s own soul. Marie-France Hirigoyen writes about this double injury, the spiritual and the social, in her book, Moral Harassment: “This is clear, albeit hidden, violence, violence whose goal is to harm the identity of the other and to deprive him [sic.] of any trace of self. This is a process that causes real emotional destruction.” This destruction can also undermine the ability to distinguish between good and evil persons, since every abuser, sexual or narcissistic, seeks to draw others into their behavioural patterns, until they too distort the rules they used to follow. Thus, the destructive power of the abuser expands.[11]

This process is an assault on the individual, dismantling personal and moral boundaries, and implanting a fantasy of a symbiotic world without separations, prohibitions or limitations. The psychoanalyst Janine Chasseguet-Smirgel claims that the pervert-abuser seeks to deny the very concept of boundary – such as, the boundary between parents and children, and between permitted and forbidden.[12] Ruth Stein notes that perversion, “is the attempt to penetrate into the other without being penetrated” – it is a selfish act, aimed at the other’s destruction.  The pervert identifies the needs of the other with their sharp senses, “and he [sic] fills them, but not in order to create a real connection …, but rather to strengthen the covenant of bondage.”[13] As Dana Amir, following Stein, emphasizes, the pervert-abuser “adopts the syntax of the other” but with the purpose of entrapping them. This allows for a “smooth” infiltration into the soul of the other and of dispossession, while their guard is down.[14]

Similarly, the Kabbalistic and Hasidic myths of “redemption through sin” express the wish to mix between the divine and the human, between fantasy and reality, and the attempt to break the boundary between self and other and to disrupt the order of existence. Consequently, there is scope for abuse, when the pseudo-spiritual messianic pervert leaves the abused other defenceless, vulnerable on account of their wish for redemption, which exposes them to brokenness and their desire for healing and repair (tikkun) unfulfilled and exploited.

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Reflection on the scope of harms currently taking place in religious community and in spiritual circles indicates multiple instances of “social confusion of tongues.”  The strength of the power relations, authority and superiority of rabbis, alongside the clear hierarchy between men and women, teachers and students, lead to additional confusion of tongues: under the guise of authority, protection and holiness integrated into the discourse about repair (tikkun) of the nation and the cosmos, instances of exploitation occur under the auspices of halakha. Given the lack of institutional attention to this, the bulk of the burden remains on the victims. This is an outrage and an injustice.

It is teachers and rabbis, men and women, all of us who can, who need to take care and take responsibility where we can, including with the content of what we teach, and with the deference we extend to authority figures. We have to resist injustices, including the protection and defence of perpetrators – no matter how scholarly, influential or admired they are. We need to look out for and attend also to obscured and hidden nefarious motivations in the process of teaching and leadership well before these gather pace and inflict harm. The cost of not taking responsibility is simply too great – because of the emotional and psychological damage to the individuals who are abused and exploited, and also for the foundations of faith and holiness, and society at large.

[1] A yeshivah (from Hebrew ישיבה, literally, “sitting”) is a traditional Jewish educational institution. The plural of this word is yeshivot. Yeshivah education is focused on the study of Rabbinic literature, the Talmud and halachah (Jewish law), with Torah and Jewish philosophy  studied in parallel.

[2] “Antinomian” refers to views that reject laws or legalism, often arguing (or being considered to argue) against religious, ethical or social norms and conventions.

[3] Hevruta (or chavruta or chavrusa) is a highly interactive Jewish method of studying texts in pairs that is characteristic of yeshivah education (see note 1). The word is derived from the Aramaic word for “fellowship” or “friendship” and the practice involves two partners reading, debating, and deeply analysing textual passages together. It can involve analysis both of the text and its modern meanings or applications.

[4] The Zohar is the foundational text of Jewish Kabbalah (mysticism). Scholars are divided on the question of whether the book was written by Ramdal (Rabbi Moses de León) or by a group of kabbalists who worked together in Castile, around the years 1280-1300. Lurianic Kabbalah is a school of Jewish mysticism developed by Rabbi Isaac Luria (1534–1572) in Safed, in the Galilee. It reshaped Jewish thought by introducing mythical concepts like tzimtzum (divine contraction) and tikkun olam (cosmic repair) to explain the origins of creation and the problem of evil.

[5] Midrash is a genre of exegesis from a word meaning “to lead out.” “The Midrash” indicates here the whole Rabbinic corpus written from 2nd to 7th centuries, both in Babylonia and Israel, by the Sages of antiquity. 

[6] Ruth Kara-Ivanov Kaniel, Holiness and Transgression: Mothers of the Messiah in the Jewish Myth (Boston: Academic Studies Press, 2017).

[7] Sándor Ferenczi, “Confusion of the Tongues between the Adults and the Child—The

Language of Tenderness and of Passion.” International Journal of Psychoanalysis 30 (1949):

225–230.

[8] Ten psalms are arranged by R. Nachman of Breslov to atone for the sin of wasted seed. The emission of semen in vain is regarded as a particularly grave sin already in the Zohar, a matter that gave rise to many perversions and extremisms, and also fostered a sense of guilt and shame among boys growing up in religious education. See, Shilo Pachter, Shmirat habrit: the history of the prohibition of wasting seed, Phd thesis, Jerusalem, 2006.

[9] Emmanuel Levinas, Nine Talmudic Readings, trans. Annette Aronowicz (Bloomington and Indianapolis: Indiana University Press, 1990), 30–50.

[10] Ada Rapoport-Albert, Women and the Messianic Heresy of Sabbatai Zevi, 1666–1816 (Oxford: Littman Library of Jewish Civilization, 2011).

[11] Marie-France Hirigoyen, Moral Harassment: The Perverse Violence of Daily Life (Ramat Gan, 2022), 17-18, 129 [translated from the Hebrew].

[12] Janine Chasseguet-Smirgel, Creativity and Perversion (London: Free Association Books, 1985).

[13] Ruth Stein, “Why perversion? False love and the Perverse Pact.” International Journal

of Psycho-Analysis 86 (2005): 775-799.

[14] Dana Amir, Cleft Tongue: The Language of Psychic Structures (Routledge, 2014), 58.

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The Woman from Judges 19

by Hilary Willett on

Hilary Willett (she/her) fights for gender justice by writing icons and reclaiming the lives of biblical women. Her most recent icon writes the unnamed woman whose story is found in Judges 19. Here, Hilary reflects on the process of writing this icon.

“The Woman from Judges 19” is one of the more confronting icons I have written. I knew I wanted to write it within a few months of learning iconography. I first read about this woman in Phyllis Trible’s book Texts of Terror.[1] Judges 19 tells the story of a woman in scripture who should be known and mourned everywhere, but is rarely discussed.

The woman in Judges 19 has no name. In many translations, she is rather crudely described as a “concubine” to a Levite man. In even less forgiving translations, she is described as an “unfaithful” concubine (ESV, NIV). But it is hard to know the precise nature of her relationship with the Levite. At times, the Levite is described as her “husband.” Some scholars speak of her as a “secondary wife.” For myself, I do not really want to describe her according to her relationship with a man. It is enough to know that this woman existed and that the biblical authors give her no name.

This unnamed woman appears to be in a fraught relationship with the Levite. While the woman from Judges 19 is not given much agency by the textual authors, she does leave the Levite man at the beginning of the narrative. She travels back home and is away for four months. This hint of autonomy, however, is short-lived. The Levite sets out with a servant, follows her to her home and is welcomed (“with joy!”) by the woman’s father. The father and the Levite enjoy food and drink for five days. The father does not uphold his daughter’s choice to live separately from the Levite in this moment, he focuses on male comfort and social expectations around hospitality.

On the afternoon of the fifth day, the woman’s father encourages the Levite to stay for another night. The Levite wants to leave (a deeply unwise decision). He takes the woman with him; there is no objection to her leaving with him in the text. As they travel, the Levite refuses to stop for the night at many of the safe havens they pass, preferring to keep travelling until they reach a Benjamanite town. Unable to travel any further, the Levite and the woman are stranded. The Levite is unable to find a place to keep them safe for the night.

Eventually, an older man takes pity on the Levite and shelters him, the woman, and the Levite’s servant. However, the house is surrounded by men who wish to rape the Levite man. To protect the Levite, the woman is cast out of the house. She is raped to death. She dies with her hands on the doorstep of the house.

But this story, as horrific as it is, gets worse.

The Levite cuts up the woman’s body and sends the pieces throughout Israel to incite war. Israel goes to war against the tribe of Benjamin, virtually wiping them out. Towns, people, and animals are destroyed, until only 600 men are left alive. Then, fearing a future where the tribe of Benjamin is eradicated, these armies kill the inhabitants of another town (Jabesh-Gilead), sparing only 400 virgin women. These women are given to the 600 Benjaminites to continue the bloodline of the tribe. The men left without wives are instructed to abduct still more women from Shiloh.

There is a reason we don’t often talk about this story. It is depraved. It is a story of extreme male violence and terror, of war justified by patriarchal sin. At the heart of this violence is a woman, whose name is absent, whose voice is silenced, and whose body is not her own. She is used, over and over, by men who care more about protecting their masculinity, upholding social expectations, and enacting vengeance. Her vulnerability is extreme – just like every innocent person who died in the fallout of war, just like every one of those 400 women from Jabesh-Gilead, just like every woman abducted from Shiloh.

To show such vulnerability in this icon, the woman is written naked. To show her stark reality, the shadows are deep; there is no colour apart from the red lines on her skin. These lines indicate where her body will be divided up. In the middle of some of the sections, a tribe of Israel is written on her body. This visual allusion drew upon butchers’ charts for inspiration, which divide up animals according to their meat cuts. Her face is hidden to highlight the absence of her name or any identifying feature. Finally, to show the utter horror of her situation, her halo is fractured, its pieces raining down on her body.

There is a reason why we should tell this woman’s story. It is because the story has not ended. There is so much war and violence occurring in the world today, so much justifying the unjustifiable. Every time we allow violence to reign in the home, in church, in society, and in politics, it is horrifying. Every time a vulnerable body is used, every time women are abused, every time innocent people become fallout or justifications for war, we need to remember this story and say very clearly: “No. No more. Never again. This ends here.”

Find more of Hilary’s icons – including the Woman from Judges 19 – at Lumen Icons: https://www.lumenicons.nz/

[1] Phyllis Trible, Texts of Terror: Literary-Feminist Readings of Biblical Narratives (Philadelphia: Fortress, 1984).

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Power Dynamics: Who Can Say No?

by Princess O'Nika Auguste on

Princess O’Nika Auguste hails from Helen of the West, the Caribbean island of Saint Lucia. She is a PhD student in Biblical Studies at Dublin City University. Follow her on Twitter:/X @isletheologian.

The complex interplay of power dynamics is not limited by time; it is present in ancient history, in holy books like the Bible, and in our current world. Indeed, many stories that depict human interactions bear witness to the presence of complex power relationships across time and space. Two such stories include that of David and Bathsheba (2Sam 11), and the encounter between Mary and the Angel Gabriel (or God in Luke 1). This post will engage these biblical narratives alongside contemporary narratives in order to ruminate on this complex and timeless topic. By examining these stories, I will highlight the deep and long-lasting effects of power relations, acknowledging their presence over generations and influence on the human condition. 

Jenna Van Schoor describes power dynamics as “the balance of power between two or more people when they engage with each other. Depending on cultural and other relevant contexts, this can look very different” (van Schoor 2023 What Are Power Dynamics). So, how do the narratives of Bathsheba and David and Mary and Gabriel/God reflect these dynamics of power? The power of both David and Gabriel is signaled initially by their gender and status – David as a king and Gabriel as an angel/deity. In each story, this power is contrasted with the lack of status held by Bathsheba and Mary both of whom have little or limited status. David and Gabriel thus wield great authority, power, and influence over Bathsheba and Mary respectively.

David and Bathsheba’s story is widely contested on and offline. Every year there are debates on social media about whether Bathsheba was raped by David. In this narrative, the power dynamics are those of a king and his subject. Thus, any conversations about the relationship between David and Bathsheba needs to include the nuanced discussion around concepts of consent, cultural context and, of course, power disparities.

The limited amount of detail given in the biblical text of the Bathsheba narrative reveals its complexity. The text tells us that David sent men to find Bathsheba after he observed her taking a bath (2Sam 11:2–5). We read, “David sent messengers to get her, and she came to him, and he lay with her,” after which she became pregnant. The text is silent on Bathsheba’s feelings about the encounter. Some, like Randall C. Bailey (1990, 86) contend that Bathsheba was a consenting and equal partner. They suggest she flirted with David and even requested to be sent for. Despite extensive research by feminist biblical scholars like Phyllis Trible, Jennifer Wright Knust, and Johanna Stiebert which problematise the power dynamics between Bathsheba and David, such interpreters continue to deny the power differentials and insist that Bathsheba consented to King David’s advances for sex.

It is important to recognise, however, that even if Bathsheba had agreed to the encounter with King David, this relationship is still problematic because David is the king, and the inequality of relationship amounts to an abuse of power. The problem is one of consent and Bathsheba’s ability (or lack thereof) to say ‘no’ or refuse the advances of one who has power and authority over her.

Similar power dynamics exist in contemporary culture, where powerful men have sexual relationships with women who have less power and status than them. Examples of powerful men who have used their power to abuse women include Bill Cosby, Harvey Weinstein, R. Kelly, and Danny Matterson. In some instances, these men have been found guilty of rape, but all of these relationships amount, at the very least, to an abuse of power. Another example is the relationship between Monica Lewinsky and former US President Bill Clinton – a relationship which is still the subject of intense media debate decades later. In the mid-1990s, President Clinton started an intimate relationship with a young White House intern named Monica Lewinsky. Eventually, media leaks about the affair led to Clinton’s impeachment although he was ultimately acquitted and remained in office until 2001. Monica Lewinsky, on the other hand, was demonized as an opportunist and seductress who tempted an honourable man and she continues to bear the fallout from this affair to this day. While some argue that Monica was a free intern and could have left the relationship at any time, we have to question whether this was even an option for her given the power disparity between them (as intern and president). What would have happened to her if she had ended the relationship? Would she have been able to find other forms of employment? What consequences would she have suffered for denying the most powerful man in the world? Would she have been ostracized from Washington DC? (See Sex, power, and humiliation: eight lessons women learned from Monica Lewinsky’s shaming).

The relationship between defamed R&B singer, R. Kelly, and the late singer Aaliyah offers another opportunity for reflection on relational power dynamics. Their relationship began in the early 90s when Aaliyah was emerging in the music industry. There were rumours that Aaliyah (15) and R. Kelly (27) were married – a rumour that was also implied in her album Age Ain’t Nothing but a Number, which Kelly was heavily involved in. At the time of the relationship, Aaliyah was underage and was also looking to grow in the music industry. Her family argue that Kelly took advantage of her at a time when she was very vulnerable. Others argue, however, that Aaliyah and her family used the relationship with R. Kelly to cement her as music royalty. Aaliyah already had connections in the music business as her aunt was Gladys Knight and her uncle was recording producer Barry Hankerson. This meant that an alliance between Aaliyah and R. Kelly would strengthen Aaliyah’s place in Hollywood. However, it is now known that when Aaliyah’s parents found out about the relationship they had her marriage annulled and Aaliyah never worked with R. Kelly again. Her marriage to the singer was covered up until years after her death and after R. Kelly had been accused and convicted of sexual assault unrelated to Aaliyah’s case. 

How do the relationships between Monica Lewinsky/Bill Clinton and Aaliyah/R Kelly relate to the story of Bathsheba and David? It could be argued that, like Monica and Aaliyah, Bathsheba was a seductress and an opportunist who used her relationship with a powerful man to ‘get ahead’. Some scholars suggest that Bathsheba was of noble blood because she was the granddaughter of Ahithophel, King David’s counsellor (2Sam 11:3; 23:34). Bathsheba’s father was Eliam, and her husband was Uriah the Hittie both of whom were part of a group of soldiers called David’s Thirty Mighty Men (2Sam 23:8-38). Those men were David’s closest friends and thus, it could be argued that Bathsheba may have taken advantage of her family’s connections to advance in society through her connection to the throne. But, like Monica and Aaliyah, we have to ask, did Bathsheba have the ability to consent to the relationship with David? Could she have said no to him without fear of consequence? Can any woman in a relationship where this is a large disparity in power say no?

Before these questions are answered, we need to discuss rape and consent. According to Barstow (2023), rape is

“unlawful sexual activity, most often involving sexual intercourse, against the will of the victim through force or the threat of force or with an individual who is incapable of giving legal consent because of minor status, mental illness, mental deficiency, intoxication, unconsciousness, or deception. In many jurisdictions, the crime of rape has been subsumed under that of sexual assault. Rape was long considered to be caused by unbridled sexual desire, but it is now understood as a pathological assertion of power over a victim.” (Barstow 2023).

When we consider this understanding of rape, we must ask ourselves, did any of these women have the freedom to fully consent to their relationship with such powerful men? Could Monica Lewinsky say no to President Bill Clinton? Could Aaliyah say no to the “King of R&B,” R. Kelly? Could Bathsheba say no to King David? If the answer is no, then by the rape definition above these women were coerced into sexual relationships with men in higher positions than them because if they said no, they could lose their livelihoods.  

Perhaps one of the reasons that some interpreters understand Bathsheba as a consenting participant in the relationship is the fact that the biblical the text is not clear on Bathsheba’s feelings and perspective. This is in contrast to another text, 2 Samuel 13, where King David’s daughter, Tamar, is raped, and the biblical writer is very clear about her violation. Tamar clearly resists her rapist, saying ‘no’ and asking him not to ‘force’ her (v 12). She declares his intentions to be evil and offers him a way out (vv 12, 13). She does everything she can to prevent her assault. She is the “ideal victim.” The fact that the author of 2Sam 11 is not explicit about Bathsheba’s role in her relationship with David has led some to be convinced that Bathsheba was complicit in the affair and thus just as guilty as David. Bathsheba does not fulfil the ideal victim trope.

So, what is the ideal victim? According to Mary Morgan,

“Victims of sexual assault are forced to prove not only the guilt of their perpetrator, but also their own innocence. The ideal victim is seen as innocent in the eyes of the public, the judge, the jury and the public. The ideal victim cannot be blamed whatsoever for violence committed against them. It is only then, when the victim has been deemed completely innocent, that perpetrators are evaluated for their guilt” (Words from an “Unideal” Victim).

So, can a woman only be a rape victim if she is deemed to be good, pure, and holy? Conflicting with the myth of this ideal victim is another common rape myth that good and holy women would not be the target of predatory men. But these myths – like all rape myths – only serve to excuse perpetrators of sexual violence and blame victims.

These rape myths are conceivably one of the reasons why many find it difficult to consider the Virgin Mary a rape victim. But equally, people may find it difficult to believe the Virgin Mary was a rape victim because of who impregnated her. To identify Mary in this way is to question the reputation of an angel and of a good God. While the relationship between David and Bathsheba is open to discussion, many seem afraid to debate the narrative of Mary in order to raise similar questions – either because it is too complicated, or because it would cause controversy. The idea that Mary was sexually assaulted or raped would be hugely controversial, of course, because it would be to accuse the deity of sexual violence.

The Biblical narrative in Luke 1 narrates that when the angel Gabriel came to speak to Mary she was afraid and did not understand what the angel was speaking about. The angel told her not to be afraid, that the deity would overshadow her, and Jesus would be born. At the end of the narrative, Mary submits. (Luke 1:26-38).  The text reads:

The virgin’s name was Mary. 28 And he came to her and said, “Greetings, favored one! The Lord is with you.” 29 But she was much perplexed by his words and pondered what sort of greeting this might be. 30 The angel said to her, “Do not be afraid, Mary, for you have found favor with God. 31 And now, you will conceive in your womb and bear a son, and you will name him Jesus. 32 He will be great and will be called the Son of the Most High, and the Lord God will give to him the throne of his ancestor David. 33 He will reign over the house of Jacob forever, and of his kingdom there will be no end.” 34 Mary said to the angel, “How can this be, since I am a virgin?” 35 The angel said to her, “The Holy Spirit will come upon you, and the power of the Most High will overshadow you; therefore the child to be born will be holy; he will be called Son of God. 36 And now, your relative Elizabeth in her old age has also conceived a son, and this is the sixth month for her who was said to be barren. 37 For nothing will be impossible with God.” 38 Then Mary said, “Here am I, the servant of the Lord; let it be with me according to your word.” Then the angel departed from her.

Some argue that Mary is portrayed as having autonomy in this text because she agrees to become pregnant with Jesus (Barber 202, 22). Mary Daly, for example, argues that Mary as the virgin mother could be empowering and an image for female autonomy (Daly 1993,84).

But did Mary have the full freedom of consent? What if Mary did not consent and the deity abused his power? In Luke 1 we find a similar power disparity to that seen between David and Bathsheba – but the inequalities between Mary and the angel are even greater. Here we see an all-powerful male impregnating a young, vulnerable woman. And so, the same questions about power dynamics that were applied to Bathsheba should also be applied to Mary. Could Mary say no? Could she leave? What would have been the consequences if she had told the angel Gabriel “no”?  While some scholars will not go as far as to suggest the Mary was a victim of rape, there there are those who find her consent troubling. Wil Gafney, for example, notes although Mary’s ancient context would have meant that she probably could not have consented to the encounter, she still used whatever agency she had to withhold her consent initially by asking the question, “How could this be?”  Gafney notes that while she did agree, her consent was problematic because, “Mary’s submission [‘here I am, the woman-slave of the Lord] is in the vernacular of slavery… In this light, her consent is troubled and troubling.” (Gafney, Did Mary Say “Me Too”?) 

Thus, both the narratives of Mary and Bathsheba raise questions of power dynamics and consent. Our traditional interpretations of these stories are troubling because if we are not interpreting these women as victims of male power, we are sexualizing them – Mary a virgin and Bathsheba an adulteress. This, in turn, emboldens patriarchy and sexual violence and puts women in similar power relationships in our own time in a perilous situation. Perilous situations that benefit men. When power disparities are overlooked, we underplay how these dynamics can lead to sexual violence and sexual coercion. Consent is not complicated; power dynamics should not determine who can say no!

References

Bailey, R.C., 1990. David in love and war: The pursuit of power in 2 Samuel 10-12 (Vol. 75). A&C Black.

Barber, M., 2021. Hagar and Sarah and Mary and Elizabeth: Reading Luke 1 with Genesis 16/21 (Doctoral dissertation, Union Theological Seminary).

Daly, M., 1993. Beyond God the father: Toward a philosophy of women’s liberation. Beacon Press.

Klein, L.R., 2003. From Deborah to Esther: sexual politics in the Hebrew Bible. Fortress Press.

Kirk-Duggan, C.A. ed., 2004. Pregnant passion: gender, sex, and violence in the Bible (Vol. 44). Brill.

Reilly, F., 2005. Jane Schaberg, Raymond E. Brown, and the problem of the illegitimacy of Jesus. Journal of Feminist Studies in Religion, 21(1), pp.57-80.

Schaberg, J., 2006. The Illegitimacy of Jesus. A Feminist Theological Interpretation of the infancy Narratives, Expanded Twentieth Anniversary Edition.

Images

“David en Batseba, RP-P-2015-17-117-8” by Rijksmuseum is marked with CC0 1.0. To view the terms, visit https://creativecommons.org/publicdomain/zero/1.0/deed.en/?ref=openverse.

“File:PM 080988 E La Granja n.jpg” by PMRMaeyaert is licensed under CC BY-SA 4.0. To view a copy of this license, visit https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/4.0/?ref=openverse.

“<div class=’fn’> <div style=’font-weight:bold;display:inline-block;’><a href=’https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/en:Annunciation’ class=’extiw’ title=’w:en:Annunciation’><span title=’announcement of the birth of Jesus to Mary’>Annunciation</span></a></div></div>” by Fra Angelico is licensed under CC BY 2.0.

  

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Update on the Bible & Violence Project

by Johanna Stiebert on

The Bible and Violence Project is up and running!

We now have over 120 contributors signed up. Many of them are busy forming and working together in writing groups; others are receiving or providing mentoring. If you are a contributor and find yourself in need of support or motivation, please be in touch if we can help.

The publication emerging from this project aims to be the most comprehensive and inclusive on the topic of the Bible and violence to date. Alongside chapters on every text of the Hebrew Bible and Christian Greek Bible, there will also be chapters on the Bible and…:

Its role and impact in diverse geographical settings

Incel cultures and the manosphere

The ethics of citing violent scholars

HIV/AIDS

Liberative readings in violent settings

Environmental violence

Colonialism

Trafficking

Intimate partner violence

Genocide

Gender-based violence

Rape and rape culture

Violence aimed at children, at animals, and at the deceased

Violence in the family

Divine violence

Supersessionism

Antisemitism, as well as Islamophobia

Martyrdom

War

Crime fiction

Abortion activism

Transphobia

Zionism

Fat shaming…

… and that is not all. Alongside yet more exciting topics, there will also be some chapters on select rabbinical texts and Dead Sea Scrolls, gnostic and deuterocanonical texts.

We have already received contributions ahead of the first deadline of 2 October 2023 by Katherine Southwood, Sébastien Doane, Alison Jack, Barbara Thiede and Alexiana Fry, with more in the pipeline.

Two of the editors – Chris and Johanna – recently visited Manchester to present at the United Reformed Church research conference on both The Shiloh Project and Bible and Violence Project. While there, we enjoyed hearing Megan Warner’s paper on her topic for the project. 

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Accompanying Survivors of Sexual Harm: A Toolkit for Churches 

by Emily Colgan on

The Shiloh Project is pleased to announce the launch of a new toolkit called Accompanying Survivors of Sexual Harm. The toolkit has been developed as an educational resource for church leaders, inviting them to reflect on ways that churches can become spaces where sexual harm survivors feel safe and supported. This resource can be downloaded by following the link to the “Accompanying Survivors Toolkit” page on this website.

Below, Emily Colgan (one of the creators and editors of the toolkit) explains more about the toolkit’s development and its goals.

Accompanying Survivors of Sexual Harm: A Toolkit for Churches 

Accompanying Survivors of Sexual Harm is a trauma-informed resource that offers education and support of Christian clergy and lay leaders as they respond to sexual harm in their communities.  The resource is the collaborate effort of seven academics, all of whom work broadly at the intersection of sexual harm and Christian faith traditions in Aotearoa New Zealand. Through our work in this area, we have long been aware of the distressingly high rates of sexual harm in our communities, and we believe it is important for churches to recognise that the trends we see in society more generally are reflected in church communities as well. Moreover, churches need to acknowledge that sexual harm is perpetrated within these communities—at times by those in positions of authority—and the primary response of church leaders has far too often been one of self-preservation and concealment. For the most part, churches in Aotearoa have not yet found a voice to adequately address the issue of sexual harm, which is endemic in faith communities and in society at large. We (as a country, generally) have a problem with sexual harm and, for the most part, churches keep silent on this issue. 

This situation has come into sharper focus since February 2018, when the New Zealand government announced a Royal Commission of Inquiry into abuse in state care. In November of the same year, the inquiry expanded its scope to include abuse of those in the care of religious institutions. The harrowing testimonies of victims and survivors who experienced horrific sexual harm while in the care of religious institutions reveal that, for many people, churches have not been places of welcome and safety; they have not been places of good news. Churches have failed in their duty of care for the most vulnerable in their midst. The Commission’s work is still ongoing. But it has highlighted the urgent need for churches to be proactive in their support of victims and survivors, as well as in their efforts to ensure that church communities are no longer spaces where sexual harm can flourish. This resource is our – the contributor’s – response to this need. 

Over a number of years, we have canvassed stakeholders from within the Anglican, Methodist, and Roman Catholic traditions, seeking feedback about the educative needs of these churches for confronting the issue of sexual harm. We have also piloted this resource material with various church groups, seeking comment on the relevance and usefulness of its content for those in ministry. It reflects scholarship by experts in their respective fields, consultation with church leaders and those in frontline ministry positions, and insights and input from victims and survivors of sexual harm. It is by no means exhaustive, nor does it claim to be the full and final word on an appropriate Christian response to the issue of sexual harm. Instead, it enables workshop-based sessions which aim to educate clergy and lay leaders about

  • Understanding the nature of sexual harm and its prevalence in New Zealand society. 
  • Being alert to and responding in a pastorally sensitive manner to people within their community who have experienced/are experiencing sexual harm.  
  • Identifying and articulating some of the scriptural and theological foundations that work to justify/legitimise/enable sexual harm while silencing the voices of victims/survivors. 
  • Identifying and articulating some of the scriptural and theological foundations that work to challenge and resist sexual harm. 
  • Exploring how their church might work to create a safe space for victims/survivors of sexual harm. 

The toolkit will be of value to anyone in a church leadership position, including those training for Christian ministry and  those who have extensive ministry/leadership experience. It is intentionally ecumenical in nature and does not require knowledge of any one denominational tradition. While the format of the resource requires reflection and discussion in an “intellectual” sense, the aim of this work is to enable tangible, practical action in our communities that will support victims and survivors, and to make our churches spaces that are welcoming and safe. 

While some of the content relates specifically to the context of Aotearoa New Zealand, most of the material can be adapted and used further afield. There is space offered throughout the sessions for participants to discuss how issues pertaining to sexual harm relate to their own communities. Participants also have opportunities to consider how their own cultures, contexts, traditions, and languages will help shape their role of accompanying victims and survivors. 

The toolkit is free for anyone to download and use. It can be accessed here on the Shiloh Project website. If you have any queries about the use of the toolkit, please contact us at [email protected]. 

We hope this resource is a useful and meaningful tool for all those who accompany victims and survivors on their journey.

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Announcing… an event for postgraduates, postdocs and other ECRs (early career researchers) working on abuse and trauma in religious contexts

by Johanna Stiebert on

Save the Date… register expressions of interest… spread the word…

An event for postgraduates, postdocs and other ECRs (early career researchers) working on abuse and trauma in religious contexts.

When? 14 – 15 November 2022 (times to be confirmed)

Where? At the University of Leeds (venue to be confirmed). This will be an in-person event only and all participants are encouraged to take part actively in all events.

What? Short presentations by participants, guest presentations by invited speakers, networking, focused discussion groups, informal conversations. 

Why? Research on abuse and trauma in religious contexts comes with profound and distinctive sensitivities and difficulties. While categories such as ‘spiritual abuse’ are becoming more well understood and widely used, and with research on abuse in religious contexts growing, support networks are still sparse.

The aims of this event are:

To bring together postgraduates, postdocs and other ECRs working on abuse and trauma in religious contexts.

To create networks of collaboration and support.

To share information about existing resources and services that participants have found meaningful and helpful.

To identify what is still needed in terms of information and support and to discuss ways to meet these needs.

On November 14–15, activities will be led by Chrissie Thwaites and Laura Wallace. Both are postgraduates in the subject unit of Theology and Religious Studies at the University of Leeds. Because both are busy with internships at present, please direct initial enquires and expressions of interest to Johanna Stiebert, co-director of the Shiloh Project: [email protected]

If you are a postgraduate, postdoc, or ECR working on abuse and trauma in religious contexts and you’d like to take part in the events of 14-15 November 2022 at the University of Leeds, please get in touch, with a short description (one paragraph) of your research. We will endeavour to fund or subsidise participants’ travel (within the UK) and accommodation costs, as well as refreshments during the event. Numbers will be limited. All participants will make a short presentation to the group (10-15 minutes) about their research. 

If you would like to nominate yourself, or someone else (a researcher, activist, practitioner) to make a short presentation at the event (e.g. about strategies and/or resources for working on topics of abuse and trauma in religious contexts), please be in touch, describing the proposed speaker and providing their contact details. We will cover participants’ travel (within the UK) and accommodation costs, as well as refreshments and a modest honorarium. 

To find out a bit more about the project…

This event is part of a large grant called ‘Abuse in Religious Settings’ (AIRS) funded by the AHRC. It is supplemented by another AHRC grant, with the title ‘The Shiloh Project’, on sacred texts and rape cultures. The AIRS grant is led by Professor Gordon Lynch (University of Kent) and the Shiloh Project grant is led by Johanna Stiebert (University of Leeds). 

This event is aimed at researchers at relatively early stages of their career working on topics of abuse and trauma in religious contexts. It aims to create networks of support and collaboration and to identify existing resources and sources of support, as well as needs for researchers of abuse and trauma in religious contexts that are not met, or not met adequately. Together we will discuss how best to meet these needs.

We acknowledge that researchers working on abuse and trauma in religious contexts encounter sensitivities and difficulties of particular kinds. We acknowledge that researchers working in such areas may themselves be victims or survivors of trauma and abuse, or encounter stress and trauma in working with victims and survivors. Additionally, there may be secondary and intersectional contributing factors and it would be good to discuss and address these, too. Hence, other factors may exacerbate difficulties particular to the research: financial strain, anxiety about employability, minoritized status on account of mental wellbeing, disability, gender, gender identity, sexuality, racism, ethnic marginalisation, classicism, to name a few.

Sad Angel (CC.BY-NC-SA 2.0, cropped)

We hope to create a safe and constructive space to take such conversations forward.

Please help us spread the word and please contact us if you would like to participate. 

Please direct all initial enquiries to Johanna Stiebert: [email protected]

For more information on the project ‘Abuse in Religious Settings’, please contact: [email protected]

[The feature image (of the STOP sign) is by allaboutgeorge, CC-BY-ND 2.0, cropped]

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Silencing, Shiloh, and the story of David Oluwale

by Tasia Scrutton on

Today’s post is by Tasia Scrutton who is Associate Professor at the University of Leeds. Her research interests include philosophy of religion, philosophy of emotion, and philosophy of psychiatry, as well as theology, and social epistemology.

Special thanks to Lucy Moore and her wonderful contributions to Leeds Civic Trust and Wikipedia.

Just hours after the Leeds Civic Trust installed the blue plaque commemorating the distressing and suspicious death of David Oluwale in 1969, the plaque was stolen. This occurred on the night of 25th April 2022 and is being treated as a hate crime.

At the time of his death in May 1969, David Oluwale, who had come to England from Nigeria in 1949, in search for a better life, was homeless and living in Leeds. He had already experienced ongoing ‘systemic, varied and brutal’ abuse by individual police officers. This was witnessed by other members of the police, who made no effort to prevent it (Sim 2010 159). Ultimately, Oluwale drowned in the local river, aged 39. 

Independent witnesses testified to seeing two uniformed police officers chasing Oluwale along the river on the night he drowned. Two police officers were eventually convicted of grievous bodily harm, though not of manslaughter. Activists have documented the way in which the court case was whitewashed through the portrayal of Oluwale as dirty, an animal, and a burden and menace to society; the judge instructed the jury to find the police officers not guilty (see Aspden, 2008).

David Oluwale (image with thanks to Yorkshire Post and Wikipedia)

The theft of the blue plaque, 53 years after Oluwale died, is another attempt to deny the existence of Oluwale, or, alternatively, to protest against the commemoration of Oluwale’s wrongful death. It both seeks to silence structural, including police, racism, while also demonstrating that such racism is alive and well in the UK today.

Silencing people’s stories – and especially the stories of disadvantaged and disempowered groups – is a familiar theme also to perceptive readers of the Bible. A comical Easter cartoon depicts Jesus’ male disciplines, just after the female disciples tell them they have seen the risen Jesus, saying to the women, ‘thank you ladies, we’ll take it from here’. The cartoon is apt, since, while it is clear from the Gospels that women were among Jesus’ disciples, Christian Scriptures were written and interpreted largely by men, with male interests and experiences in mind (see e.g. the important work of Elisabeth Schüssler Fiorenza). 

The story in Judges 21 after which the Shiloh Project is named is a particularly sinister example of the silencing of women’s stories in the Hebrew Bible. (For the full account of the origins of the Shiloh Project and its name, including the story of Judges 21, see here.)

Silencing can be deliberate or inadvertent, even unconscious; it can be performed by individuals, or groups, or it can be systemic. The philosopher Miranda Fricker draws attention to two kinds of ‘epistemic injustice’ (that is, injustice relating to people as knowers) (see Fricker, 2007). These forms of epistemic injustice relate closely to silencing and shed further light upon it. 

The first of these is ‘testimonial injustice’, which happens when someone is not believed because of the type of person they are. An example Fricker gives of this is of a Black man who is not believed by the police, precisely because he is Black. The example is relevant to the case of Oluwale because, while the violence against him was not a mere case of testimonial injustice, the fact that he could be abused by police officers without them having to fear he could press charges against them, certainly is. Of course, Oluwale would more likely be disbelieved not only because he was Black in a systemically racist wider setting, but also because he was homeless. This shows how different aspects of a person’s identity (being Black; being a migrant; being homeless) intersect, so that the person is even more likely to be a victim of testimonial injustice. The police officers, in contrast, had what is called ‘a credibility surplus’: this means, their testimony was likely to be believed. 

Indeed, Oluwale’s case was highly unusual, in that his death ‘resulted in the first successful prosecution of British police officers for involvement in the death of a black person’ (see here). The reason was that there were other witnesses deemed reliable, as well as other evidence of gross misconduct concerning one of the police officers sentenced for grievous bodily harm. 

The second kind of epistemic injustice Fricker discusses is called ‘hermeneutical injustice’. This is where disadvantaged groups of people do not have access to concepts that help them make sense of their experience, or to communicate their experience to others. Hermeneutical injustice often results from the reality that disadvantaged groups do not get to have input into formulating the concepts that are supposed to reflect human experience: precisely because, as a group, they are not considered, or not considered consequential enough for their experiences to be taken seriously – or even just acknowledged. 

An example Fricker gives of hermeneutical injustice is of a (real life) woman who experienced sexual harassment at work but before the concept ‘sexual harassment’ was named, or talked about, or better understood. As a result, the woman was unable to explain why she felt miserable at work, became depressed, and ultimately left her job. She was unable to get another job (since her reason for leaving her previous job, without any reference, was mystifying) and was also unable to claim unemployment benefits (because she was understood as having left her job without good reason). The lack of a concept, such as ‘sexual harassment’ in this case, not only affected others’ opinions of her and of her material circumstances, but also her own self-esteem: she was unable to explain her unhappiness and her reasons for leaving her job not only to others, but also to herself.     

The example of hermeneutical injustice is strikingly relevant to the case of the women of Shiloh. The mass rape of the women is not called a mass rape in the biblical text, because the word ‘rape’ (today meaning, to be penetrated against one’s consent with the perpetrator knowing consent to be absent) was not understood in those terms when the biblical narrative was written. While rape (i.e. what the word now signifies) certainly existed (and hurt and harmed just as much), the experience of women – the group most often depicted as victims of rape in biblical and other ancient texts – was not considered important enough for there to be a concept that expressed the world from their point of view.

One might imagine the women in the Shiloh story, like the woman who suffered sexual harassment, wondering why they felt distressed, violated, depressed, but without the resources or language to make sense of their experience. Alternatively, perhaps they did have some concept that described their experience, but since their perspective was never written down, it was not conveyed in the biblical story – thereby enabling the story to perpetuate rather than challenge sexual violence against women.

Silencing, then, can be blatant and crass, as when the plaque telling Oluwale’s story is stolen; or, it can be more subtle, as when particular people do not get input into the concepts used by the rest of their society. It can be individual, as when a police officer refuses to believe a person who is Black, but more often it has a systemic dimension, too, as when police officers in general are less likely to believe persons who are Black, or homeless, or when an entire group lacks or is denied certain concepts or hermeneutical resources. In every one of these cases, silencing is brutal and destructive. Silencing is also deep-rooted, insidious, and pernicious; it works in different, often invisible, but extremely harmful, ways. Because of this, it is easy to feel hopeless: because it is not clear what we can do in response to something that is both subtle and systemic.

One thing we can do is to keep the stories of people like Oluwale and the women of Shiloh alive.

References

Aspden, Kester (2008). The Hounding of David Oluwale. London: Vintage. ISBN 978-0-099-50617-1

Fricker, Miranda (2007). Epistemic Injustice: Power and the Ethics of Knowing. Oxford: Oxford University Press

Sim, Joe (January 2010). The Hounding of David Oluwale by K. Aspden. The British Journal of Criminology. 50 (1): 158–161. doi:10.1093/bjc/azp073

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Announcing AHRC Grant Success 

by Johanna Stiebert on

The Shiloh Project Will Be Involved in a Large Grant Focused on Spiritual Abuse

Co-director Johanna is part of a team that has been awarded a large grant from the Arts and Humanities Research Council (AHRC) for a two-and-a-half year research project on Abuse in Religious Settings. Johanna is one of three Co-Investigators, and the project is led by Gordon Lynch (University of Kent). It will bring together an experienced team of academics, professional practitioners, and people involved in support and advocacy work with survivors, and will work closely with survivors as co-producers of new insights and resources.

Abuse in Religious Settings will involve a series of connected pieces of work examining theological, organisational, and textual issues, how safeguarding professionals and faith communities work with each other, and what relevant legal and policy frameworks have been developed in different countries. It will also work with survivors to learn from their insights about the meanings that abuse in religious contexts can have, as well as what can support resilience.

Johanna’s focus builds on her work in activist uses of biblical texts and with The Shiloh Project. 

The project will be structured around seven main pieces of work, with cross-cutting themes and issues between them also being studied: 

  1. Abuse and the cultures and structures of religious organisations (literature-based study led by Gordon Lynch). 
  2. Abuse in new religious movements: forms and organisational responses (secondary data analysis led by Sarah Harvey).
  3. The role of religious texts in relation to abuse (workshop-based study led by Johanna Stiebert). This will also include the production of more Shiloh Podcast episodes with the fabulous Rosie Dawson.
  4. International comparisons of legal and policy frameworks in relation to safeguarding and abuse in religious settings (review led by Richard Scorer).
  5. Exploring relationships between faith communities and safeguarding professionals in statutory bodies (survey and interview-based study led by Justin Humphreys).
  6. Survivor responses and resilience to abuse in religious settings (interview-based study led by Linda Woodhead and Jo Kind). 
  7. Disclosures and non-disclosures of abuse (photo-elicitation study led by Lisa Oakley).

In addition, the project will also involve activities and events which will build new relationships between individuals and groups working in this field, both within the United Kingdom and internationally. 

If you are interested in possibly contributing to and participating in Johanna’s workshops and podcast episodes (which are still in the early planning stages), please contact Johanna directly: [email protected]

Workshops and podcast episodes will focus on religious texts from a range of religious traditions – not only on the Bible, Jewish or Christian traditions. We welcome postgraduates, practitioners, religious and community leaders, academics and activists working in the area of spiritual abuse and religious texts and contexts.

The project will formally begin with an initial consultation phase in March 2022, with the main research activities beginning in the autumn of 2022. Outcomes from the project are expected to be released by the spring and summer of 2024.

For more information and regular updates about the project, please visit the project website: Abuse in Religious Settings – Research at Kent

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Vocation and Violence: The Church and #MeToo

by Miryam Clough on

Miryam Clough’s book, Vocation and Violence: The Church and #MeToo is part of the Routledge Focus series (Rape Culture, Religion and the Bible) and it hits the bookshelves this week! In her work, Miryam interviews survivors and church leaders to explore the impact of clergy sexual misconduct on women’s careers and vocational aspirations.

Tell us about yourself, Miryam

I am a Postdoctoral Fellow at St John’s Theological College in Auckland (New Zealand) and a tutor at Ōrongonui, the regional training programme for Te Hui Amorangi ki te Tai Tokerau – a diocese of Te Hāhi Mihingare (the Māori Anglican Church). I have two adult daughters and recently was present at the birth of my first granddaughter in Australia via video call from lockdown here in Aotearoa. Prior to the pandemic I’d lived in the UK since 1990, where I was practicing as a homeopath and working in homeopathic education. I completed a PhD in Theology and Religious Studies at Bristol University/Trinity College Bristol in 2014.

How did this book come about and how does it relate to your work as a whole?

I’d published my first book (Shame, the Church and the Regulation of Female Sexuality) in 2017 and was looking for another theology project. A couple of conversations got me thinking about my experience of the church as a young person with a sense of vocation and I decided to explore this further. I was offered a visiting scholarship at St John’s College in early 2019 and was subsequently invited to return in 2020. I didn’t anticipate writing about clergy misconduct – my project was about the experiences of women in the Anglican Church in Aotearoa more broadly – but this subject kept coming up as being pivotal for me and a factor in the lives of other women in the church. Once the book title ‘landed’, I felt compelled to run with it.

In terms of my work overall, my key academic interest is shame – the subject of my PhD – both in terms of how it affects the lives of those who are susceptible to it, and how it is utilised in groups, organisations, and even on an international scale as a means of control. The book is part of a wider research focus on shame in Aotearoa, with particular application to the church and gender violence in various forms.

I realised during my doctoral research, which focused on an Irish Catholic setting (the Magdalen laundries), that it was necessary to look at the national shame caused by colonisation to understand the shame that was inflicted on women in the socio-religious context. In Aotearoa, colonisation continues to be a huge source of shame and intergenerational trauma and some of this is expressed very clearly in gendered relationships and gender violence, including within the church.

Several things particularly captivate me about shame. One is that it is a primary cause of aggression and violence on micro and macro levels (James Gilligan (2003) and Thomas Scheff and Suzanne Retzinger (2001) write about this); another is that it signifies a breakdown in social relationships – which is why it is so debilitating; and a third is that it pulls us away from the things that really matter to us – it can set us on the wrong path. Silvan Tomkins (in Sedgwick and Frank 1995) describes this as an interruption of interest. Each of these aspects of shame is prevalent in the ongoing trauma of both colonisation and gender violence. On a positive note, shame is healed when we are brought back into relationship and this is where churches have a key role to play through restorative action and fostering right relationship.

What are the key arguments of your book?

Essentially, I see clergy abuse as a structural issue which affects the church’s credibility in an increasingly secular world, so I look at the contexts within the church that allow abuse to flourish and at the wider public perception of the church.The church sees itself as welcoming and inclusive, but it has often been adept at pushing people away, especially over issues related to gender or sexuality – whether that’s been women with vocations, members of the LGBTQ+ community, unmarried mothers, or victims of abuse. This is totally at odds with the Gospel and what Jesus was about. While churches will often deny that they are excluding people, the lived experience of those people who feel hurt and unvalued is very real. There’s a fear of contamination of all kinds that underpins much of the church’s thinking throughout history and this goes hand in hand with a kind of moral superiority or self-righteousness. Both fly in the face of the inclusiveness modelled by Jesus in the gospels.

I left the church after a period of clergy abuse because of my own sense of shame and failure, which was fuelled by the way some people in the church reacted to this abuse. Some years later, one of my daughters said to me, “Mum, the church didn’t just lose you – they lost our whole family”. I think this is often the case when people are hurt and leave – others leave with them. When we treat people badly or exclude them, we’re not just hurting those individuals, our actions also affect those who care about them. Certainly, that’s been the case for many victims of clergy abuse, and it’s been similar for women and for the LGBTQ+ community. People are disillusioned with churches because they see churches taking the moral high ground and they see people being hurt. If churches want to build up their membership and have more of a role in contemporary society – and I think it’s essential now, more than ever, that they do – they need to be transparent about who they are and demonstrate that they are working hard to put things right. They also need to be truly inclusive. There’s no room for discrimination. There’s a tendency to a kind of self-satisfaction when churches make tiny steps – look, we’ve done this (ordained a woman as bishop or agreed to bless the relationship of a gay couple), so we can rest on our laurels and go back to business as usual, forgetting that the gender balance in our leadership and governance groups is still heavily skewed in favour of men, that gay clergy are expected to be celibate, that gay couples can’t marry in church, that lay women are overworked and undervalued, and that we’re still, in some of the language of the church, sons of God and brothers in Christ irrespective of our gender. All these issues, which also include clericalism, complementarianism, and purity culture, feed into and support what is essentially a culture of toxic masculinity that enables sexual abuse to go undetected, and to not be adequately addressed when it is disclosed.

The book also speaks to the integrity of the Anglican Church here in Aotearoa in wanting to address the issue of clergy abuse and to change, not least in that two of its bishops, Bishop Te Kitohi Pikaahu and Archbishop Philip Richardson, have actively supported my research. I think this demonstrates an impressive openness, both personally and on behalf of the church, to move forward with this issue. Archbishop Richardson, for example, was willing to give me some concrete examples of situations he is aware of or has had to manage that really demonstrate how attitudes and responses can and have changed, and how our approaches need to be and can be considered and compassionate. There isn’t a one-size-fits-all approach. We need to keep the humanness and fragility of all parties to the fore and be open to exploring what’s really going on, while also holding abusers to account in clear and appropriate ways. In the past the approach has been to silence and ostracise victims, protect abusers, and try to keep the topic out of the public square, and this does no one any favours.

The book has felt timely as Aotearoa is in the middle of its Royal Commission of Inquiry into Abuse in Care, so churches are having to rethink their approaches and to be upfront about their history. It’s really common for survivors to take many years before speaking up about abuse, and this has been my experience, too. I think having that distance gives perspective and we can be kinder to our younger selves when we are able to be more objective and analytical about the factors that shaped the society we were part of back then. Hearing other people’s stories helps significantly.

Towards the end of the book, I talk about what I see as the way forward – that is, the importance of respectful relationships. Conversely, the absence of respect shows itself in prejudice of all kinds, in theologies that privilege men over others, in purity culture which defines women through a sexual lens, in clericalism which continues to privilege clergy over lay people and gives them a kind of moral immunity. Some of the book concentrates on describing how this plays out, including how I saw it play out in Aotearoa when I was a young ordinand in the 1980s. Paradoxically, in some respects, little has changed.

It was really helpful for me to explore the broader context of my own experience as a young woman in the church and to realise that this was very much a shared experience. So, I focus a lot on language – the language and discourse that shapes our theologies and our actions. Having left Aotearoa in the late 1980s when we were making inroads into the language of the church becoming more inclusive, it was a real surprise to return in 2019 and find a significant slippage in this area, particularly among younger people.

What do you hope your readers will take from this book?

One emphasis which is articulated very clearly by both Archbishop Richardson and Dr Emily Colgan, who I interviewed for the book, is the need for education and training across church communities. Policy changes alone won’t make a difference. In Aotearoa there is some excellent training available through the programme that Dr Colgan discusses in the final chapter, and I hope the book may prompt more churches to take it up.

One of my main hopes for the book is that it will promote more honest and open discussion about the nature of the church and its shortcomings, as well as about its aspirations and strengths. The exciting thing about this book for me is the interviews. They model this honesty and openness so well and I hope this will be encouraging for people.  People’s stories illustrate the main concerns of the book so beautifully. The interviews are pretty much verbatim, and the stories and experiences are really evocative. You get the immediacy of the situation in the way that a more theoretical perspective can’t deliver. So really, this has been a collaborative project with some amazing people, and I’m so grateful to them for being willing to share their stories and perspectives. They’ve helped me to work through my own experiences and I think they will help others too. We’ve tended not to talk publicly about abuse in the church. I think it’s vitally important to be open about this issue, or nothing will change. We also need to be honest about our failings because people outside the church see what’s going on and don’t appreciate the hypocrisy.

Give us one quotation from the book that you think will make a reader go and read the rest.

It’s a bit harsh, but I quite like this one:

When we put real women into the frame and examine their experiences in the context of a theology and ecclesiology that continues to undermine them, and that makes women primarily responsible for sex, including sex that is coercive or non-consensual, we begin to gradually chip away at an edifice that has cloaked the liberating message of the gospel in a miserable shell of misogyny and dishonesty.

For me it sums up the systemic nature of clergy abuse and this is the crux of it. We need to acknowledge that clergy abuse is absolutely systemic and that it is the product of toxic masculinity. It’s supported by the language, theology, and structure of the church and until this changes, abuse will be with us. When people speak out about their experiences, as several – women and men – have generously and courageously done in this book, they help to create a better future.

References:

Gilligan, J., 2003. ‘Shame, Guilt, and Violence’. Social Research 70:4, 1149–1180.

Scheff, T.J. and Retzinger, S.M., 2001. Emotions and Violence: Shame and Rage in Destructive Conflicts. Author’s Guild Backinprint.com ed. Lincoln, NE: iUniverse.com.

Sedgwick, E.K. and Frank, A. (eds), 1995. Shame and Its Sisters: A Silvan Tomkins Reader. Durham: Duke University Press.

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Noirthern

by Johanna Stiebert on

Shiloh directors have been busy with their day jobs, but work goes on and there are some great posts in the pipeline…

If you haven’t already, please check out Noirthern – the magnificent blog and podcast on crime fiction in Scottish and Northern English settings. Given that the hosts are none other than Caroline Blyth and Katie Edwards, the (wide-ranging and wonderful) conversations often veer into the territories of rape culture and religion. But it’s far from relentlessly grim.

Shiloh followers might appreciate particularly Episode 4, ‘Saints and Saviour Syndrome’ (focused on Durham) and Episode 5, ‘Tartan Noir’ (focused on Glasgow and Liam McIlvanney’s The Quaker, which draws inspiration from the notorious and unsolved Bible John case).

We hope to have some exciting updates soon… including about restarting suspended research project activities and a call for papers for a fabulous publication.

Watch this space!

[The feature image is adapted from artwork by Melody Clark. Please see: https://www.etsy.com/people/mellyemclark? ]

Noirthern is funded in part by a grant from AHRC/UKRI.

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