Here's a sermon I preached last fall.
Joe Paterno and the Good
Samaritan
( I'm going to assume
you're somewhat familiar with the situation at Penn State
Y'all have probably
inferred that I am a big Penn
State Penn State
I first off want to say
that the most important people for us to consider are the victims. The
young boys, now young men, who were scarred and irreparably damaged by the
horrible act perpetrated against them. We should always keep them and all
victims of abuse in our prayers. Especially since statistically 1 in 4
girls and 1 in 6 boys is abused before the age of 18, that mens that when we
pray for abuse victims we are praying for our families, co-workers, baby
sitters, police officers, politicians, friends, pastors, elders, teachers and
members of our churches.
Joe Paterno could have
and should have done more. I understand the argument that he was brought
up in a time when things like this were handled behind closed doors. I
understand the argument that he was taking the word of a 22 year old graduate
assistant who wasn't specific against a friend and colleague whom he had
trusted and worked with for decades. He could have and should have done
more.
When we think of the
story of the Good Samaritan, we often contrast the roles of the Levite and
priest with the Samaritan. We say that the Samaritan was the neighbor
because he helped the victim instead of ignoring the victim and we conclude
that we should be like the Samaritan and not like the Levite or the
priest. More often than not, we are the Levite and the priest walking by
saying, "At least I'm not the thief." We demonize others so
that we don't have to face our own shortcomings or take responsibility for our
inaction. We point at Paterno and Spanier (the University President) and
Curley (the athletic director) because we don't want to face the fact that we
are not all that different. We demonize them because we don't want to
admit that we all ignore sin, that we all look the other way, that we all don't
protect the innocent and we all turn a blind eye.
This morning there were a
group of young men smoking pot on our basketball court at church. It
smelled like it, I could see it, they were rolling it. I went out and
said, "I don't know what you're smoking; I don't care what you're smoking;
you can't smoke anything on this property." I turned a blind
eye. I knew what they were smoking, but I didn't call them on it. I
was a Levite walking by saying "At least I'm not the thief."
How often do we turn a
blind eye to the famine and AIDS epidemic in Africa ?
How often do we turn a blind eye to the sex slave trade in the United States (the center of the sex slave trade
in North America is Kansas City Lancaster Avenue
The truth with sexual
abuse is that we all turn a blind eye. Given how prevalent and how
rampant it is, especially in churches (almost every church I know of has had
some history of sexual abuse in its past), it's incredible how rarely it comes
up when we talk about the history of the church. We can talk about the
pastor who stole money, who ran away with the Sunday School teacher, or who
showed up to the pulpit drunk, but we, as a society, have gotten into the habit
of ignoring sexual abuse, burying it, and keeping it quiet. How many
different people in this particular story had a chance to say something?
The multiple levels of the administration at the university and athletic department,
people from the charity, victims, parents, other kids. We demonize
because we don't want to admit that it takes a whole town of people keeping
quiet and we are part of that town. In truth, if a scared 22 year old kid
came to us and made a vague reference that our friend of decades was doing
something inappropriate with a kid in the shower, we would probably kick it up
the chain of command so as to not have to deal with it. We all keep
secrets, we all turn a blind eye, we all fail the innocent...and none of us
want to admit it. We are the Levites walking by saying, "At least
I'm not the thief." We all can and should do more.
.
Whenever the topic of
sexual abuse, especially against minors, comes up, I am always surprised by the
intense anger, hatred, and vitriol spouted against abusers and anyone
tangentially associated. Now don't get me wrong, I have no tolerance for
those in power taking advantage of people out of power to their harm. It
is inexcusable, unthinkable, and despicable. Sandusky
However, when I read
things like "I hope there's a special circle of hell reserved for these
people" published by writers in a national magazine (ESPN.com in this
case) I can't believe my eyes. Is this really how Jesus taught us or
showed us how to treat one another? When Jesus said, "Love your
enemies and pray for those who persecute you" (Mat 5:44) is this what he
meant? When Jesus said, "Forgive them father, for they know not what
they do" (Luke 23:34) is this the example he was setting? That we
would rather see someone eternally tortured than see them redeemed by Jesus
Christ?
I think we demonize and
dehumanize him, saying he is pure evil because we don't want to believe that
good people could do such terrible things. We don't want to believe that
1 in 4 girls and 1 in 6 boys are abused. We don't want to believe that
our friends, and neighbors, and co-workers and even our children are victims of
abuse and in many cases perpetrators of sexual impropriety (ranging from
pornography use to assualt to prostitution to pedophelia) (and yes, children
are often perpetrators). It's much easier to compartmentalize and imagine
that "If we could only lock up all the people who do this or turn a blind
eye to this..." than it is to face the reality that sexual impropriety is
a systematic problem that pervades every aspect of society.
I think the reason why
this is the case is because of the secrecy that surrounds sexual abuse.
SO many of us have been hurt by sexual abuse (as a victim, as a friend of a
victim, or even as a perpetrator) but have not found a healthy way to come to
terms with it. The only thing we know how to do is to be angry. And
we bottle that anger up inside for years and decades so that when we finally
get a chance to express any feelings on the subject at all (like when it's in
the public eye) we take all the anger that we've built up over decades and
unleash on the nearest target, in this case Sandusky. We demonize,
dehumanize, and vilify him because he is the stand in for the years of un-dealt
with pain, hurt, shame, and anger that we've been carrying around. We've
turned a blind eye to our own pain and the only way we know how to deal with it
is to project it onto other situations. We have never figured out a way
to deal with it in a way that brings healing, closure, reconciliation, and
ultimately redemption and so the next generation of victims is even more afraid
of disclosing what happened, fearing they might be somehow implicated and the
next generation of perpetrators is even more afraid of seeking help, fearing
our backlash.
In truth, in the story of
the Good Samaritan, we are not Levites. We are not the Good
Samaritan. We are not even the thieves. In the story of the Good
Samaritan, we are the man on the side of the road. We have been
hurt. We have been hurt by people who should have been there but
weren't. We have been hurt by people we trusted but violated our
trust. We have been hurt by people who took advantage of us and people
who turned a blind eye. We have been hurt by our parents, our teachers,
our peers, our pastors, our church leaders, our friends, and we have been hurt
by ourselves. We have been beaten and robbed by thieves and we have
watched priests and Levites turn a blind eye. And we wait...and
wait...and wait....for someone to stop and love us. And while we wait we
grow more angry, more bitter, more hateful...and more hurt. So who is the
Good Samaritan?
Jesus.
Jesus is the one who has
not turned a blind eye. Jesus is the one who knows what it is to be
beaten, to be robbed, to be mocked, to be betrayed, to be left for dead.
Jesus knows what it is to have a blind eye turned. Jesus knows what it is
to hurt. And yet, Jesus, knowing the consequence of his actions, still
stops for us. Jesus, knowing the priests and Levites will crucify him for
stopping when they would not, still comes and bandages us, sets us on his
donkey, takes us to the inn, pays for our room and meal, and promises that he
will return and pay for everything that we owe. And Jesus does the same
for the priest, the Levite, and yes, even the thief.
Jesus' promise of justice is not that
the evil will be purged from creation. Jesus' promise is that evil will be
redeemed. Not that the Sandusky's of the world will be punished, but that
the Sandusky's of the world will be transformed. Not that the victims of
the world will be avenged, but the the victims of the world will be reconciled.
Jesus' promise is that we will one day find a place or build a place
where we can share our secrets and not be shamed, judged, or condemned.
Jesus' promise is not that the thief, the priest, and Levite will be
robbed and beaten, but that all four characters - the thief, the priest, the
Levite and the man by the road will all be healed.
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