Breaking the silence

The isolation of 2020 and 2021 compounded many traumas of Americans’ private and social lives. As communities of faith reopen their doors, faith leaders can see the toll that this pandemic has taken. In the polite social interactions or prayer requests, leaders are squarely facing a litany of losses due to illness, financial insecurity and political distrust. People of faith are still processing the other epidemics of police brutality and systemic racism.

But in small groups or in 1-to-1 pastoral care sessions, the fear of domestic violence and psychological aggression has crept into conversations and prayer requests.

Even by conservative estimates, this crisis of violence affects every faith community, and every faith leader. The recent growth in online resources available to clergy due to the pandemic has opened up conversations across faiths and countries about domestic violence and how to address it.

According to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, approximately 1 in 4 women and nearly 1 in 10 men experience sexual violence, physical violence or stalking by an intimate partner during their lifetime. Rates of domestic and intimate partner violence for those within LGBTQ communities are even higher.

In addition, an average of 24 people per minute are victims of rape, physical violence or stalking by an intimate partner in the United States — more than 12 million women and men during a single year.

‘Healing the Healers’

As a consulting producer on a film series, “Healing the Healers: Domestic Violence,” I viewed many hours of candid conversations between colleagues who have been touched in some way by domestic violence, as spiritual care providers or as survivors themselves. Hearing the testimony of fellow faith leaders and educators brought home to me the critical role that clergy play in responding appropriately. I also experienced several uncomfortable moments when I realized my own ignorance in not recognizing abuse that was in plain sight when I served as a parish minister.

The Rev. Tawana Davis, a survivor and the host of the film series, recalled advice she got from a trusted mentor: “Don’t let the Bible be the belt that beats you” — that is, be alert to ways that sacred texts have been misused to support violence. Our faith communities have so often been that belt.

In the series, educators and clergy grapple with the toughest questions facing faith leaders and care providers. What about forgiveness — what does it mean in the context of those who perpetuate violence? How does a faith leader respond to the entire family system, in order to keep a victim or survivor safe? When is marriage counseling a dangerous, even fatal, recommendation? How have clergy allowed silence and shame in even talking about the topic?

Today I direct the Odyssey Fellows program for Odyssey Impact, using the power of film to equip emerging faith leaders to lead brave and healing conversations on difficult civic issues. The issue of domestic violence was a crucial focus during this pandemic, one that these future faith leaders were inspired to tackle during their fellowship.

One of our fellows, Staci Plonsky, coordinated a special screening of “Healing the Healers: Domestic Violence” in Melbourne, Florida. Afterward, faith leaders, domestic violence victims advocates, survivors and local law enforcement discussed how to build better liaisons to respond to domestic violence.

Courage needed

The group talked about the complex issues that emerge when a faith leader learns of abuse within a family in a congregation. Faith leaders are often the first point of contact for a victim reaching out for help. What are “do’s” and “don’ts” for clergy on this issue? Whom do clergy call when they’re unsure?

“Courage is what’s needed, when an abuser in your congregation is being confronted,” said Officer Bill Stanley of the Cocoa Beach Police Department and an ordained minister. “As a former pastor, I know how these dynamics unfold. The buddy of the abuser will also happen to be on your personnel committee, or chairing the finance committee, and might say, ‘Hey Pastor, seems like maybe we could just find a way to avoid any kind of ugliness, don’t you think?’”

We all have work to do in our faith contexts. If the pandemic has taught us anything, avoidance can lead to death for both adults and children.

Addressing domestic and family violence is always hard, but it need not be overwhelming if we can open up our conversations as clergy and build strong community liaisons for a network of resources. We must get beyond the silence and shame that we perpetuate in our houses of worship when we don’t take diligent and faithful action to create safe and accountable faith communities for all.

By Katie Givens Kime, director of religion and civic engagement at Odyssey Impact. This column originally appeared at Religion News Service.

Domestic abuse surged under COVID-19. Clergy need better tools to help survivors.

“I don’t get it. My husband and I have been in couples counseling for nine years already, but life at home is getting worse,” says a woman to her clergyperson, her fingers fidgeting with her phone.

“First, the constant sarcasm, then the silent treatment and not knowing what’s really going on with our finances. When he was furloughed last spring, he started throwing things, and one time he started to choke me … ” her voice trails off. “He’s been swearing at the children, too, and smacked the dog on its head, hard, the other day, out of the blue. I don’t know what to do,” she whispers.

Do most clergy know what to tell this woman? Maybe they remember a seminary lecture in which they heard that a couple such as this one shouldn’t be in marriage counseling. Do they suggest the couple stop seeing a therapist together? Maybe they feel the need to hear her partner’s version.

What ifs?

What if the woman’s spouse has recently offered to rig the campus with much-needed technology? What if the congregational leader’s own exhaustion makes them quail at taking on another complicated pastoral situation?

I know I’m not alone in wanting a smarter way to support families suffering from abuse. The pandemic has spurred greater awareness of risk factors for domestic violence and new thinking about intimate partner violence. Our understanding has become more comprehensive and well-coordinated, more survivor-oriented, more trauma-informed.

That new thinking is amply evident in a report recently released by Jewish Women International titled “Domestic Violence in the Jewish Community,” and based on a yearlong needs assessment of services for survivors within the Jewish community. It offers recommendations that do not shoehorn the needs of survivors into systems that have not been serving them well — civil and criminal justice systems, child welfare systems, government benefits systems, and economic and employment systems.

As the report highlights, survivors seeking help turn first to friends or families, then to clergy. Not a single domestic violence service provider interviewed for the report indicated that survivors turn initially to hotlines/help lines, secular domestic violence programs, medical professionals or law enforcement. Instead, most survivors turn to a trusted community in times of crisis.

Ready or not, clergy are likely to be sought out more frequently by those intent on leaving homes beset by quarantine and quarreling.

Interfaith issue

While the report addresses questions particularly facing Jewish communities, many of them are relevant to other faith communities.

For instance, if a victim does decide to leave her abuser, can you as clergy help her to stay in the community? What would a trauma-informed response to her suffering look like, such that you do not inadvertently misdirect her into re-traumatizing experiences?

What if she and her children need transitional shelter? Could you recommend, based on firsthand knowledge, where to go? Are you prepared to talk about safety planning? Able to help her name which of the four “stages of change” that those in hurtful or unhealthy situations tend to move through on the way to safety and stability? (The report describes the role of clergy in all four stages: pre-contemplation, contemplation, action, long-term healing and independence.)

Are there resources at hand to offer immediate spiritual nourishment to someone feeling both trapped and full of self-blame for her entrapment? Come to think of it, ever since you heard from the preschool teacher that this congregant’s daughter recently slapped another student to the ground, you’ve noticed a pronounced tic in the daughter’s eye. If she acts out again, what advice will you give her teacher?

This report is meant to jump-start discussions that will lead to culturally specific interventions and robust, innovative partnerships — between clergy and local shelters and between seminaries and local clergy on the front lines, as well as collaborations with real estate investors who could provide long-term housing solutions for those fleeing domestic violence.

Clearly, new thinking about the needs of survivors and new resources to help them are already here. If we clergy are the people with more authority than power, now is the time to lean on that authority to help relocate the very definition of support for the families we serve.

By Rabbi Donna Kirshbaum, who serves Bethlehem Hebrew Congregation in New Hampshire. She is chair of the communications committee for Jewish Women International’s Clergy Task Force to End Domestic Abuse in the Jewish Community. This column originally appeared at Religion News Service.