Showing posts with label abuse. Show all posts
Showing posts with label abuse. Show all posts

Thursday, July 11, 2019

++Justin Welby, the Diocese of Virginia, and Abuse: Casual Indifference, Lying, and Bullying as a Common Thread

Archbishop Welby: Breathtaking Hypocrisy

Bishop Susan Goff, Breathtaking Hypocrisy

It’s been an intertesting day for the Church of England. Today was the final day of hearings by the Independent Inquiry Into Child Sexual Abuse, a commission that is examining the role of the church in child sex abuse. Among those testifying was the Archbishop of Canterbury, Justin Welby, who had been criticized during previous sessions as unfit to lead. His testimony was, to put in bluntly, appalling, and showed that he was, and is, utterly clueless when it comes to abuse. And the really troubling parts of his testimony are startlingly similar to the tactics employed by the Episcopal Diocese of Virginia and Bishop Susan Goff in their efforts to avoid dealing with Bob Malm’s abusive conduct. Particularly ugly is Welby’s facially false claim he didn’t treat allegations of misconduct involving an adult with “casual indifference,” which is exactly how the Episcopal Diocese of Virginia treats complaints of non-sexual clergy abuse involving adults.

++Welby’s woes center around an unidentified adult complainant, who contacted him while Welby was dean of the Liverpool Cathedral in 2011.The complainant attempted to notify Welby that he was being sexually harassed by a member of the cathedral staff. The result? The abuser remained on Welby’s staff, while Welby barred the victim from the grounds of the cathedral on the basis that he had been threatening to staff, and that the latter were very frightened of him.

Sound familiar? Sure does. It sounds for all the world like Bob Malm’s claim that people at Grace Church are frightened of me. That’s cute, since most only found about Mom’s blog and its supposed threats thanks to — you guessed it — none other than Dysfunctional Bob himself. And in that respect, Bob went to church officials, telling them that his family and staff were, “anxious, sometimes fearful.” At the same time, he got his wife Leslie all spun up; he also was the one who told Leslie about Mom’s blog. And so, back and forth, Bob played his little game of shuttle diplomacy. (Although he did slip up once, telling diocesan officials that his wife and daughter [Lindsey] took the matter far too seriously.

My bet? The abuser on Welby’s staff played this up, or possibly Welby himself. Interestingly, Welby, like Malm, also appears to have made a statement against interest. On the one hand, he claims that staff was frightened by the victim, yet says he would have rescinded the ban had the victim apologized. All I can say is they couldn’t have been all that scared, now could they? And it fails to recognize that victims of abuse, not suprisingly, get really angry, especially when they get the big brush-off.

To make matters worse, Welby told the complainant via email that his account, and that of the abuser, were entirely inconconsistent, and that absent independent verification, he could not assess which was true. That underscores the notion that Welby is clueless, for evidence overwhelmingly suggests that sexual misconduct is rarely falsely reported. And my experience is that people are doubly reluctant to complain when clergy is involved, for they instinctively know that they face a power imbalance. Thus, Welby doesn’t even grasp the dynamics of clergy abuse.

Next comes Welby’s claim that he took the matter seriously. That appears to be total horse crud, as the abuser stayed, and the victim got the heave-ho. On this matter, Welby says he regarded the matter as a disciplinary complaint, not a safeguarding one. So what? Welby doesn’t think adults get abused or sexually harassed? Ironically, in the diocese of Virginia, about the only way to get the diocese involved is to implicate sex; sex is the touchstone for a disciplinary complaint. Be that as it may, nothing in the record suggests Welby took any meaningful action. So yes, it looks for all the world like Welby treated the complaint with “casual indifference.”

Of course, that’s how the Diocese and Susan Goff have treated Bob Malm’s perjury. “Hey, he didn’t get convicted. What’s the big deal?”

Then we have Welby’s claim that he apologized to Matthew Ineson, who allegedly was raped by a Church of England vicar; the latter committed suicide when the allegations came to light. I personally have been in touch with Ineson, and find his evidence convincing that Welby never did apologize, and that his one alleged apology was not even possible, given the larger timeline of events. This is much like the Rev. Caroline Parkinson’s false claim, in writing, that the reference panel in July 2015 considered Bob Malm’s decision to remove us from the church directory. The latter was an obvious lie:
  • Bob did not remove us from the directory until October. Thus, Caroline would have had to time travel.
  • I was given no advisor or written notice from a reference panel. Thus, it either didn’t happen, or failed to follow church canons.
So, I agree with Ineson’s statement that Welby has demonstrated “breathtaking hypocrisy.” And his comments about how the CoE has responded to his complaints exactly mirror my experiences with the Episcopal Diocese of Virginia:

“I know from my own experience, and the experience of others, that safeguarding within the C of E is appalling,” Ineson said. “The church has colluded with the cover-up of abuse and has obstructed justice for those whose lives have been ruined by the actions of its clergy. I have been fighting for five years for the church to recognise its responsibilities and I’m still being met with attempts to bully me into dropping my case.”

Yes, ++is engaged in breathtaking hypocrisy. So is the CoE. And The Episcopal Church is equally culpable, with the corruption and hypocrisy extending all the way to ++Curry, +Todd Ousley, +Johnston and +Goff. 

Any church that is willing to lie, deflect, bully, and ignore abuse in this manner is morally bankrupt. 




Sunday, June 30, 2019

Why Do Bystanders Ignore Abuse?

Following is a screen cap of an excellent Twitter thread from Wade Mullen, a baptist minister who does a lot of work on abuse. 

Find Wade on Twitter at @wad3mullen.




Tuesday, June 18, 2019

Presiding Bishop Michael Curry and ABC Welby: Both Deficient When it Comes to Abuse

One of the things about churches and abuse is how consistent the former is when it comes to abuse. Consider the similarities between the recent findings of the independent investigation into abuse in the Church of England (CoE) and how Presiding Bishop Michael Curry handles allegations of clergy abuse.

In the recent investigation into the CoE and its handing of sexual abuse, the commission found that victims of abuse tried multiple times to contact now archbishop Justin Welby, only to receive no meaningful response. That’s right. The big brush-off. The cold shoulder. The don’t let the door hit you on the way out routine.

Similarly, some time ago, I arranged to hand deliver a message to Michael Curry, asking for his help in resolving issues with the diocese of Virginia and Dysfunctional Bob. The result? You guessed it. Utter silence. Not even the courtesy of a form letter.

Yet in both cases, the Episcopal Church and the CoE claim to take abuse seriously. They babble on with their endless claptrap about the baptismal covenant and the duty to respect the dignity of every human being. But even at the highest levels, abuse is fine. 

Small wonder, then that the bishops of Virginia say that they will only address abuse if there is a criminal conviction.

That seems to be the motto of The Episcopal Church when it comes to abuse: As little as possible, as late as possible, and made as difficult as possible.

At this point, I hope I live to see the day when The Episcopal Church closes. The world will be a better place without its hypocrisy and lies.

Friday, May 10, 2019

DioVA Response to Abuse Mirrors Failures in Church of England

As many now know, an independent commission in the UK recently released a scathing report on abuse in the Church of England. The report had its genesis in allegations of abuse involving Bishop Ball, who had ties that extended all the way to the British royal family.

Sadly, the report sounds very much like the Diocese of Virginia and the way the latter handles allegations of clergy misconduct, particularly in regard to Bob Malm’s ongoing abuse of power. Indeed, change the names and you have my experience, almost verbatim.

Noting that the Church of England had, in multiple cases, protected its reputation at the expense of victims, it went on to outline in damning terms an ongoing series of reprehensible moral failures, including:
  • Discounting Ball’s conduct as “trivial and insignificant” while displaying “callous indifference” to the complaints of victims.
  • Delaying a proper investigation into the matter for two decades.
  • Failing to have sufficient regard for the well-being of those injured by Ball’s abuse.
  • Issuing an unconvincing apology.
  • Giving a popular priest preferential treatment, while demonstrating a lack of compassion for the victims.
This willingness to utterly disregard all moral and ethical reference points when convenient appears to me to be endemic in organized religion, and particularly prevalent in The Episcopal Diocese of Virginia. Indeed, the only thing the latter appears to do well is to litigate over property. But without love or compassion, or genuine concern for others, why bother? The litigation, which I foolishly supported, was a complete waste of time and money. In short, it was the proverbial case of two bald men fighting over a comb.

Here’s a screen cap summarizing the findings in the Church of England report.





Thursday, April 18, 2019

To All the Christian Friends I Could Not Keep


On May 21st, 2013, my life changed forever. My house church in Redlands, CA, became a cult, put me on trial, and tried to coerce me to sign a contract that forbade questioning the leadership. They called such questions “slander.”
The antinomian teachings of Hyper Grace had taken hold of this fifty-member community, and they ultimately shunned me, along with their families, friends, and other house churches in the area.
I was devastated, because I knew that this sort of thing—authoritarian dictators running rampant with impunity—happens often in churches. I had been studying it and learning about it. I knew it even had a name: spiritual abuse. I determined to warn others and speak out, even when my vocabulary and composure couldn’t keep up.
As my friends went from drunkenness to drug use, from marijuana to heroin, from twisting the Scriptures to ignoring them entirely, the apathy of so many parents and pastors and onlookers in Redlands matched what I came to understand was the larger Christian world.
Like every victim, my entry into the survivor community was unexpected and involuntary, and every plea for help became a silent scream into a vacuum where no answers come.
Those were my “all caps days,” when I wrote status after status on Facebook—never in a dignified way—seeking to share my experiences of abuse. I thought that if you heard from a person you knew, speaking about how abuse is thriving in churches, you would understand what has been happening for far too long.
I thought you would understand what I was saying about Bill Gothard, Doug Philips, Mark Driscoll, Perry Noble, Tony Jones, Bill Hybels, Andy Savage, Tullian Tchividjian, C.J. Mahaney, James MacDonald, and too many others to mention. I thought you would understand how these leaders and the culture that enables them are not unique or isolated incidents but part of a hellish pattern.
I thought you would see this pattern and understand my burden to stop it.  
I was wrong.
Maybe I was naïve, thinking Christians were different from the average person. Your preaching about love and family and commitment gave me the impression you knew what you were talking about. But when push comes to shove, it has actually been the non-Christians in my life who treated me better than the Christians.
The biggest lesson being your friend taught me is how I should not try to persuade people to love me who are committed to misunderstanding me. I will no longer negotiate my worth. Even if you disagree, I deserve to be treated with dignity and compassion because I am created in the image of the invisible God.
Yet you’d rather make me “unhinged,” nothing more than garbage, a Peter who cries “wolf,” rather than consider I may actually know what I’m talking about. 
I wish you understood.
I wish you knew what I did about how unsafe Sunday really is.
I wish you knew the many people I do, whose lives stand in sharp contrast to your own. 
The subtle biases many of us face is a web of indifference. It is that attitude, that mindset hiding in plain sight, that the Church is somehow immune from evil and that abuse does not happen there.
Instead, the soul-crushing truth is that abuse would not thrive in the Church if it weren’t for the indifference of those whose privilege has isolated them from reality.
I wish instead of invalidating our experiences you could just listen. When we tell you that women experience the Church differently than men, how vulnerable children and the disabled are, how harsh the punishment is for disagreeing with a pastor, or what it’s like when you tell the truth in a community that professes to love truth, you cannot just disagree.
Not only is this insulting, it is dehumanizing. Your denial robs us from the very thing we need the most—a community where we can heal.
Instead, the survivors of the Church have become so numerous that we now have formed a community of our own. I believe it is another revival, but instead of God bringing people to the institutional church, He is rescuing people from it. The industry, the celebrities, the publishing houses and radio stations—the big money that comes from playing along—none of it glorifies Jesus, because there is nothing sacred about an institution that hides evil.
You see these survivors in such places like conferences on abuse—the Courage Conference, the Conquer Conference, the Valued Conference, or smaller get-togethers that are not so public.
You’ll find them in #Exvangelicals, #ChurchToo, and #EmptyThePews. Some of the voices are strident or openly heretical, but I understand that is what happens when faith hurts.
Far from hating the Church or you, I do love you. I wish you were still my friend. But your lack of presence demonstrates the fact you had no empathy to begin with. I was an enigma that you tried to solve, a curiosity you tried to manage, a problem—but never a person to be loved.
You’ve never applied yourself to deeply love the broken or wounded on the roadside. Deep down, you’re so afraid that you could be vulnerable to abuse or assault that you assign blame to the victimized. The randomness of life is so terrible a thing to contend with that somehow we “deserved” what we experienced.
Maybe that’s why you never reached out and said, “Help me understand.” Maybe that’s why you never called to ask “Are you okay?” Your mind was already made up about us, even as we trusted you to love us.
Instead you asked, “Why are you so bitter?” “Why aren’t you going to church?” “Why aren’t you reading your Bible?”
You claimed “no church is perfect,” asked if we were “working toward reconciliation,” and accused us of gossip and slander.
You act as though there is no reason to be angry or hurt by this. You are surprised Bible verses dispassionately recited can harm people. You are offended when we say we aren’t troublemakers because there is already trouble inside your community. The people you are called to love, you refer to as slanderers, divisive, and renegades.
And you say we can go to you for anything.
We see the contradiction. We see no urgency to care. We see you’re just looking for reasons to shove us away and then wonder why we never come to church.
I learned the hard way that when abuse happens in religious communities, a steadfast commitment to truth can be a relational death sentence. Often it is the people in power who abuse, and often it is those very people you cannot question.
The clearest indicator that a community is in dangerous territory is when we cannot question our leaders. Our demeanor does not matter, nor how we frame our words, because this isn’t about how we say it—it is about what we are saying that makes us, somehow, unworthy of your time.
As the years have passed, I not only gained the vocabulary for knowing what has happened to me and others, but I feel what Emily Dickenson wrote when she said, “There is a languor of life, more imminent than pain. ‘Tis pain’s successor, when the soul has suffered all it can.” I understand what Brené Brown wrote when she said, “You can choose courage or comfort but you cannot choose both.” I understand what Fred Rogers meant when he said, “Listening is one of the most important things we can do for one another.”
Far from being angry with you, I read our last emails and messages and sometimes look you up. I often dare to wish you a Merry Christmas or Happy Birthday. I have many such messages in my draft folders. But I know you have not reexamined your position, because you have not reached out to me.
You are enshrined in your certainty that you are right and the many survivors who are speaking out are wrong.
There are so many of us in the Church who remain outside of the sanctuary on Sunday, yet our absence means nothing to you. The show must go on, because pretense matters more than our presence.  
In so doing, you scoff at people’s pain. Your silence in the face of our pain makes you complicit for so much of it.
Now, tell us truly: who is the hateful one? Who is the divisive one? Who is the slanderer? Who is unsafe?
I didn’t destroy our friendship. It broke my heart to learn you were not incapable—just unwilling—to truly love me and those like me. When you walked away, I had to learn to do the same. But I never wanted to do that.  
If you ever returned to me, having looked into these matters and with a sincere apology were ready to fight for a world without abuse, I would love to have you back. 
Sadly, I believe the next time I will see many of you is during the end of all things, when we all stand before Him before whose face the earth and heavens will fade away. There He will tell us that when we gave a drink to the thirsty, when we welcomed the stranger, when we clothed the poor, and when we visited the prisoner, we were doing it to Him.
He will pierce us with His fiery gaze and see when we failed to love others. You will ask when you failed.
And then I imagine He will gesture to us. Those of us who hungered for righteousness and thirsted for justice but were not fed. Those of us who were exiled from our church families and never welcomed back. Those of us who stood naked and ashamed when shame was not ours to bear and yet were not clothed and protected.
Those of us who languished under the weight of chains from oppressive abusers and were not visited or freed, but were looked upon with indifference, if we were ever seen at all.
I’m not sure what will happen next for you at that moment—if punishment comes for those who say they are Christ’s yet lived as though they were not. But I do hope you will then realize what I’ve been trying to tell you all along.
Your brother,
Ryan

Ryan Ashton is a survivor, advocate, and graphic designer with a BFA in Graphic Design. He is the Director of Technology and Social Media for GRACE and the Creative Director for The Courage Conference. Ryan currently volunteers with Greenville (SC)’s Julie Valentine Center as a sexual assault victim advocate.

Saturday, April 6, 2019

Imagine if the Church Said, “I’m Sorry”

I saw this op-ed on the Chicago Sun-Times. It is reprinted with permission.

Imagine if the church said, ‘I’m sorry’

“If my people, which are called by my name, shall humble themselves, and pray, and seek my face, and turn from their wicked ways; then will I hear from heaven, and will forgive their sin, and will heal their land.” 2 Chronicles 7:14

Imagine if the church said, “I’m sorry.”

Imagine the collective of Christian churches across America creating, even for just one day, a safe space for those who have been abused in the church, or by the church, to say openly before the assembly — without condemnation that something happened to them in this the most sacred of places we hold so dear.

Imagine …

Imagine if the church ceased from telling church-wounded brothers and sisters to simply “get over it.” Imagine if the church stopped scolding or shaming those countless “victims” over their inability to simply move on. Imagine if the church had a Me Too moment.

OPINION

Imagine a church that no longer attempted to whitewash sins inflicted by the clergy upon the laity — often in secret and shrouded by a form of godliness, though purely evil and often criminal.

The lesser sins: The backbiting from the pews, the shaming, denigration and legalism from the pulpit, the misuse of power. The abuses almost too incomprehensible to utter that have left the sheep bruised and scarred, battered or barely breathing, bitter, until finally turned off to the church and to God, as the church abides mostly in complicit silence.

It is a pervasive silence that has swept over the church at large like a thick fog that obscures the truth and reality of life, love, joy and pain within the age-old institution.

The church. It has been co-opted by a 21st century bling-bling Gospel, by prosperity doctrine and the emergence of the mega church. It is today a much more insular church than the church of old, intoxicatingly focused on building temples of brick and mortar rather than “community” and the temple called the souls of men.

A made-for-TV church, it is a semblance of the church it was commissioned to be many centuries ago — enraptured by political correctness and with befriending the powers that be rather than speaking truth and practicing a social Gospel that is disruptive and also transformative. It is a church adept at seeing the speck in others’ lives but inept at detecting the beam in its own.

But imagine. … Imagine if the church’s stiff-necked denials and knee-jerk reaction to criticisms from within or without was no longer to circle the wagons but instead to deal circumspectly with those criticisms, with the myriad tales of untold abuse, and to take measures to prevent it.

Imagine the bold confessions of a repentant loving church: An admission that church leadership has indeed looked the other way amid glaring evidence of abuse. That the church is guilty of being MIA at times of great crisis and that it remains mostly mute about the scourge of murder, claiming black lives in genocidal proportions, and other social issues.

Imagine a church that concedes that Pentecostals and Baptists and Methodists have no less sin than Catholics or those of other faiths who hide behind the collar and the cross while serial abusers devour the unsuspecting and vulnerable who once checked in safe at the House of God.

Imagine a church that confessed that the church has brought shame to the name of Christ. A church that does not excuse the perpetrator or the flawed institution itself but seeks to heal and to protect the least of these.

Imagine a church that said: “We are sorry that happened to you. … We believe you. You have every reason to never want to go to church again. Please forgive us and please accept our deepest regrets on behalf of the church.”

Imagine that 2 Chronicles 7:14 is calling the church itself to repent.

Now imagine if we, the church, don’t.

Monday, April 1, 2019

Invitation to Victims at Tenth Presbyterian

As several who have been following this story know, I increasingly believe there is much more to the story of potential abuse at Tenth Presbyterian in Philadelphia. Indeed, I have had several recent conversations that suggest that issues may go back to Phil Ryken’s time as pastor, and several folks have shared anecdotes that are deeply concerning.

So, my offer is this: If you have been abused at Tenth Presbyterian, or by someone connected with the church, get in touch with me. Dee Parsons of The Wartburg Watch knows how to get in touch with me, and all conversations are confidential unless you specifically request otherwise. My promise to you is to listen respectfully, no matter what you tell me, and to be entirely supportive.

Or feel free to HMU on Twitter @gracealexwatch.

I welcome your comments.






Saturday, October 27, 2018

Catholic Church Gets It; Episcopal Church Remains Clueless

In the midst of the burgeoning Catholic sexual abuse scandal, there is a sad truth that is emerging. Specifically, the Catholics, at least on paper, get that abuse includes many things beyond sexual abuse. The Episcopal Church, and particularly the Episcopal Diocese of Virginia, don’t get that.

In its recent communique, the Catholic synod noted that abuse takes many forms; that there often is no way to repair the harm caused by abuse; and that clericalism often comes from a feeling of privilege, versus a notion of being called to service.

Contrast that with Bishop Shannon’s notion that Bob Malm’s misconduct is suddenly, miraculously “behind us,” despite the distress many family members of mine have experienced and lack of any meaningful sign that the diocese, or Bob Malm, understand why his conduct was and is wrong. 

Or Johnston’s claim that matters were “investigated and resolved long ago,” and his statements of support for knuckleheads Bob Malm and Leslie Steffensen. 

Or Jeff “Sugarland” Chiow’s desire to paper over things with a settlement agreement that basically says, “Give Bob everything he wants, and we’re good.” 

Or the abusive, inflammatory language in Bob Malm and Sugarland’s pleadings.

The Catholic Church is a hot mess. But it’s still several steps ahead of the sordid, putrid crock of goo that is The Episcopal Church.





Wednesday, October 10, 2018

“Trust Arrives Slowly, On Foot, But Leaves on Horseback”

During the recent Catholic synod to address abuse in the church, one of the participants made a particularly insightful remark, “Trust arrives slowly, on foot, but leaves quickly, on horseback.” That, and several other comments made during the meeting, are relevant to my conflict with Bob Malm and Grace Episcopal Church.

To be clear, the Catholic synod is meeting to address sexual abuse; there is no allegation that Bob Malm has engaged in sexual misconduct.

That said, abuse exists across a wide spectrum, ranging from emotional abuse, to relational abuse, to abuse of power. Spiritual abuse encompasses all of these, and other types of abuse as well.

In Bob’s case, his misuse of authority, including his efforts to include Mike and Mom in his vendetta, have destroyed trust on multiple fronts. And, having left on a horse in 2015, Jeff “Sugarland” Chiow’s efforts to flog that horse via accusations of “domestic terrorism” and other inflammatory rhetoric both reflect a lack of understanding of church dynamics, and of the Christian faith.  

The larger point in all of this is encompassed by another comment coming out of the Synod, which is that the abuse crisis “undermines the church in practically every way.” That is true for every type of abuse, including Bob Malm’s spiritual abuse. At every level, Bob and Sugarland Chiow have eroded trust in the church and its moral authority. Even total strangers are shocked and appalled at their efforts, for example, to drag a dying woman into court in violation of Pennsylvania law.

Nor will the damage be quickly resolved. Having spent considerable time and effort over the past three years in trying to get the upper hand in our conflict, Bob and Jeff have underscored their real motivation, which is power and control, not faith. That is an issue that cannot be resolved through a settlement agreement. Indeed, Jeff’s proposed settlement agreement, which contains a non-disclosure clause, would actually have exacerbated things, for conflict cannot be resolved by simply sweeping it under the rug and offering an, “agreed-upon statement.” Such an approach simply drives conflict underground, where it can fester for years afterwards, only to explode back to life unexpectedly.

Of course, the situation also underscores the serious issues that exist with Bishop Shannon and the Diocese of Virginia. Had someone pulled Bob aside long ago and pointed out that things like lying in court aren’t exactly helpful to the church, much of the damage would have been prevented. But having failed to provide adult supervision, Bishop Shannon leaves for others a hot mess. 

It’s interesting too: The Diocese has been consistently flatfooted in its handling of such situations. For example, when issues emerged at St. Thomas’ McLean, the Diocese was supremely indifferent to the effect on the parish and its people. True, the new rector is an excellent choice, but the damage is already done. (If nothing else, don’t announce the news as a surprise at Divine Worship. #clueless)

Can things be resolved going forward? Hard to say. Mom is fast running out of time, and with no one in my family now considering themselves to be Christian, there would be difficulty finding a shared reference point. Indeed, Mike is rabidly anti-Christian, and I want no parts of any faith that thinks trying to drag a dying woman into court is okay, or refers to those who criticize it as “terrorists.”

In short, when the seemingly inevitable day comes when St. Dysfunction aka Grace Church closes its doors, my feeling is that the world will be a better place. Yes, the food pantry, brown bag lunches and other services the church provides are important, but there’s no need to spend $1 million a year to surround these activities with a bunch of liturgical hoo-ha, especially when roughly 20 percent goes to pay for a “professional Christian,” or rector, who appears to have, at best, nominal religious beliefs. Moreover, Grace Church’s closing will end a bastion of organized bullying and control that is typified by Bob’s lying in court, and his trying to subpoena a dying woman.

Good riddance to bad rubbish. Don’t let the karmic door hit you on the butt on the way out, Grace Church.

Monday, September 10, 2018

Catholic Church Abuse and Grace Church: Striking Similarities

Over the past several weeks, I’ve provided extensive coverage of the abuse scandal in the Catholic church in other media outlets and fora. As I’ve written about this topic, one thing has become increasingly clear to me, which is that the organizational and interpersonal dynamics underlying the Catholic church’s abusive behavior, and those behind abusive conduct at Grace Episcopal Church, are remarkably similar.

Before we go further, I want to be clear: To date, no credible source has accused Bob Malm or anyone else at St. Dysfunction, aka Grace Church, of sexual misconduct.

So what is the underlying goal of the Catholic church in cases where abuse has been alleged? Far too often, the objective has been the perpetuation of the institution. “We’re a church. Churches are good. Thus, it follows that we should do whatever we need to do to protect the church,” has been the argument. In this, the needs of victims either get dismissed out of hand, or dealt with in a minimal way. Yes, there have been some large cash settlements, but far too often the church pleads poverty, ponies up for a dozen sessions between the victim and a counselor, and that is the end of that.

Similarly, in the case of Grace church, both at the diocesan and the local level, the focus has been on protecting the parish. Even in conversations with Bishop Shannon, he’s talked about the importance of Grace as a “flagship” parish, with zero regard for the faith and ethics behind this particular standard-bearer. Just as the Catholic Church has for years refused to deal with abuse, instead preferring to silence critics, so too has Jeff Chiow’s whole goal been to silence my criticism. In both cases, the approach has been based on the notion that the ends justify the means. Lying in court is okay, even bullying the dying is okay, as long as the desired end result is that Grace Church and Dysfunctional Bob can go back to their usual antics.

In both cases, the behind-the-scenes is illustrative. Smear campaigns, innuendo, and political gamesmanship all come into play. And whether it’s Jean Reed bloviating about being a servant of Christ, all the while claiming that I am defaming the church, or Kemp Williams prattling on about his perceptions that I am mentally ill, the juxtaposition of Jesus-babble and really ugly commentary is strikingly similar to the antics of the Catholic church.

That ability to talk out both sides of the mouth is striking, both in the Catholic church and at Grace Church. In Pennsylvania, the bishops say they want to end abuse, but in the very same breath are trying to limit liability through creation of a “victim assistance fund.” Similarly, with no leg to stand on, Grace Church’s last “settlement proposal” was nothing more than an effort to find a way to silence me, proclaim an end to the conflict, and go right back to business. It’s interesting too: The proposal essentially wanted liquidated damages from me for a violation of the agreement, but referral to an ombudsman for “conciliation” if Grace violated its end of the agreement. And the space where Dysfunctional Bob does most of his nefarious work — behind the scenes, through innuendo and playing people against each other — was pointedly excluded from the agreement. All that begs the question: If Grace is a church in anything but name only, why wouldn’t it hold itself to the same standard to which it seeks to hold me?

Nor does either institution pay any attemption to what I will loosely term “collateral damage.” Mom and numerous other people, including Mike, remain deeply hurt by Bob Malm’s conduct, and indeed, Jeff Chiow’s spate of lies and misrepresentations has only exacerbated that situation. Yet the settlement proposal was silent on that issue. The same is true for the Catholic church, which has rarely done anything to resolve harm to family members and loved ones.

It’s interesting too: Both organizations pounce on issues they will think help their cause, instead of trying to fix the underlying problem. In the case of the Catholic church, folks already are cranking out the spin about how most of the abuse predates current policies, even as new accusations emerge. In Grace’s case, Dysfunctional Bob has been quick to point out that our earlier attempt at what he terms “reconciliation” included being added back to parish emails lists and — get this — being allowed to give money to the church.

I am bowled over by the generosity of Bob’s “reconciliation.”