Pedophilia; a sexual orientation? And if churches protect molesters, should society overlook pedophilia?

Next Thursday I will lead a discussion in my Sociology of Deviance class. Our prof has given us an extensive list of readings from which to choose, as discussion leaders, out of which we choose two for our class to read and discuss. One of the two I chose addresses whether pedophilia is a sexual orientation, versus a crime. My interest in the topic is self-explanatory. My father was a pedophile. But my interest in this slant to the subject is not so straight forward.

I’ve long taken issue with church protecting pedophiles in the name of forgiveness, and then fretting over how they can protect their children from predators ‘out there’. The same holds true with the prevalence of homosexuality and lesbianism in our Anabaptist culture, and then being all horrified at the ‘sexual perversion’ that exists ‘out there’. Or, as one elderly conservative Anabaptist woman told me a few months ago, they knew ‘back in the day’ that if you missed your period and were not ready for another baby, that you just purchased naturopathic products to cause a miscarriage. But abortion is met with extreme judgement against those ‘out there’. (I understand that some readers will find this shocking and hard to believe, as I did also, at first. Now I have enough stories documented from eight years of working mostly with ‘my people’, and by that I mean conservative Mennonite, not the people of my birth culture – that the shock factor is lost on me.)

Of all of these, pedophilia is the only one that is blatantly and openly ‘protected’ in our culture, by many at the leadership level, as well as lay members. And, I shudder to say this out loud, but in my experience women more actively cover for men than men cover for themselves, many times. Homosexuality/lesbianism, premarital sex and abortion are present aplenty – albeit, with much denial all around – but harshly condemned, whereas pedophilia is openly and actively protected. Yet, not one person in my experience has ever expressed that pedophilia ‘out there’ should be overlooked. In fact, when such news comes to light ‘out there’ all the appropriate gasps escape lips in church.

This double standard ‘because we are sorry, so we must be forgiven and not face consequences’ boggles my mind. I would think that if we are so sorry, truly, deeply sorry, then we would face the consequences with humility. (I also know if I was a sex offender looking to hide, I’d put on some cultural attire and adhere to the strictest rules possible, and look as holy as possible.) It has been my observation that many times when society pushes for a particular agenda – ie; same-sex rights and marriage – that church has already long lived that very thing in some form and hidden it. Same holds true for abortion. It was in church, secretly, long before it was legal at a political level. So who are we to judge?

Pedophilia is no exception. It has not only been present in church for ages, but there’s the blatant protection of those who engage in child molestation. It is only reasonable to expect (and dare I say support) society to legalize it as a sexual orientation, and decriminalize it, if we are already there in how we handle these crimes. So, when this happens, church, spare us all the gasps. At least until first there has been a great repentance across the many denominations in Christendom because we have blood on our hands, and pointing bloody fingers at others is especially shameful. And when that repentance has come, the gasping will cease – because gasping at ‘their sin’ is the work of arrogance, self-righteousness and denial, not the work of love, grace and the Gospel of Jesus, and especially when we begin to acknowledge we have the same sins among us.

So, on Thursday, when I engage a handful of young scholars, I anticipate there will be a stronger stand against pedophilia than what I am accustomed to in my work, as relates to engaging leaders of pedophiles, or their spouses, parents or families. On Thursday I anticipate the class will say even if it is determined to be an orientation, that the person should have to face consequences, and it should still be a crime.

Ironically, in this secular space there seems a much clearer view of the horror and damage done by molestation than I am used to hearing in church …. unless, of course, if we are talking about the man ‘out there’ who, God help him, ‘used’ his children. Or the school teacher ‘out there’ who touched a student. Or the neighbour man/boy from ‘out there’ who so much as makes a flirtatious pass at one of ‘ours’. Or the ungodly man who stalks, kidnaps and rapes one of ours. When it is one of ‘them’ we gasp and weep and ask why. We cannot grasp what wickedness would drive such a person. We acknowledge the horror and the trauma. Our worlds are rocked when ‘one of them’ invade our space and do the very thing that is already happening among us. But when it is one of ours, we don’t believe the victim.

I was around fourteen years old when a young aboriginal boy attempted to rape a girl at knife-point in our community. We were all shaken. He was one of my best friends and had never so much as looked at me in a way that felt inappropriate. In a matter of days he was shipped back to where he came from, leaving our community reeling. I felt both loss of innocence (mostly because of the knife, and thus the violent nature of the crime) and loss of my friend. But no one shipped away the leader’s son who, minus the knife, sexually assaulted some of us to varying degrees. He was successful. It wasn’t an attempt. But he claimed at least one as mutual consent, and took ownership of what he did to me, and life went on as always. It is the most profound example of my youth, of that ‘us and them’ difference, and how in church it just goes away.

There comes a steep price tag with that kind of thing. God says “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). I am convinced that most of what we gasp at ‘out there’, is directly linked to what we hide and overlook among us as God’s people. I am convinced that our repentance and the ‘turning from wickedness’ that moves the hand of God to heal our land is not because we repent for them ‘out there’. He heals our land because we repent for having first wandered away from Him.

Our land needs healing. God’s people need to stop pointing out there and living a double standard, and start repenting in here. If ‘ours’ don’t deserve punishment for molesting children, then I vote that the law criminalizing such behaviour be done away with. The day our expectations of society are higher than that of God’s people, we have absolutely nothing left to offer. And shame on us if that is how we live while proclaiming the name of Jesus.

It’s time to choose which it will be.

Love,
~ T ~

© Trudy Metzger 2018

INK SPILLS

INK SPILLS
Red ink
Spills on white paper
Paper thin hearts
Crumpled
Shredded
Cast aside
Crystal tears
Hit the ground
Shatter
Scatter
Left to die
Dying hearts
Bleed
Transparent tears
No one sees
No one cares
No one hears
Silent cries
Not a sound
As words
Bleeding pain
Carved deep
Etching tattoos
On wounded flesh and
Tender souls where
Red ink spills…

They button suits
Suit up in crisp white shirts
They tie their polished shoes
Walking carefully, they step in
Red ink, spilled on their floor…
They point to the noisy bleeding…
New shoes, with red footprints,
Crushing paper thin hearts
Broken
Crumpled hearts
Scattered here and there.
Who made this mess?
We didn’t know
They were there
Those angry
Bitter
Messy
Ones:
“Forgive
Forget
Move on!
You unforgiving souls!”

Aren’t those messy ones
So disruptive?

Have you noticed how good and kind I am?
Just like Jesus.
Do you see my beautiful new shoes?
These are my Gospel shoes
To spread good news.
We better go;
Go save souls
Do things that matter
For Jesus.

It’s such a beautiful day today,
Isn’t it?
The sunrise,
A brilliant red
Isn’t that cloud stunning?
Almost like a crumpled
Paper heart
Bleeding tears.

Have you ever wondered,
Does God cry?

***

God weeps
Crystal tears
Shattered
Scattered on the ground
His heart crumpled, crushed,
Stepped on
Bleeding
Red ink…
His blood
Staining
New shoes
His Love
Beating
Paper
thin
hearts
to life.

His life, His Love, His hope, etched in forever tattoos on my heart.

***

Love,
~ T ~

© Trudy Metzger 2018

Just for fun… Almost-Keto Avocado, Strawberry/Cranberry Smoothie

Never before, in all my life, have I shared a recipe on this blog, that I can recall. (And I think I would remember.) But my doc told me to go Keto… Guess I’m too chubby. Also, my cholesterols have crawled up over the years, while on meds after the heart attack – the worst of which I managed to get off and stay off from 2015 until two weeks ago.

Doc failed to mention that I have to measure and limit berries, so this is only keto-friendly, not true keto. Also, I added protein powder because I like it. It was so pretty, and so delicious, I decided to share it on FB, and now here.

Layer One:
1 whole avocado
1/3 cup unsweetened premium coconut milk (not water)
squeeze of lime… or many squeezes
1/2 cup ice
(I added 1 tbsp protein powder *after* blending to avoid bubbling)

Blend until smooth and pour in cup/dish

Layer Two:
3/4 cup frozen strawberries
1/3 cup frozen cranberries
3/4 cup of remaining coconut milk
3/4 cup water (if needed for desires consistency)
squeeze of lime… or many squeezes
1 tbsp apple cider vinegar (if you like it… mostly the taste gets lost)

Blend until smooth. Add 1-2 tbsp. Olive oil and/or any other oils you need/like, and blend again (very briefly)
(I added another 1.5 Tbsp. protein powder)

Pour over avocado layer, and squeeze more lime on top.

If desired, a third layer can be added/substituted, using frozen mango in place of strawberries and cranberries. I am allergic to mango, so not an option for me. I got the idea in Ethiopia in 2005, where they serve this amazing and beautiful layered shakes everywhere.

Delicious!! And such a lovely break from the heaviness of what I typically write about! Enjoy!

40221136_10156534576722383_6996047506622644224_o

 

Love,
~ T ~

© Trudy Metzger 2018

UNSPOKEN HOPE

Hope rises.
Silence falls.
Hope shatters.
Her tongue cut out.
Pieces on the floor.
Pieces of her, of him… of me, of them
Strewn here and there

Walking here and there,
People stepping on
Pieces on the floor.
Tall people. strong people. Powerful.
Crushing flesh pieces on the floor.
Flesh, dragging here and there.
Red.
Dry blood on black shoes.

“Only trust Him… Only trust Him… Only trust Him now…
He will save you, He will save you, He will save you now…”

Songs.
Prayers.
Tears
Helpless children.
Raped.
Used.
Cast away.

“Only trust Him… Only trust Him… Only trust Him now…
He will save you, He will save you, He will save you now…”

Children weep.
Wail.
Hell licks their feet.

People walking.
Away.
Where has Jesus gone?
Why do angels weep dry tears?

Trust withers.
Silence falls.
Hope…

Dead.

Religion.

Hell wins.

;

Truth rises,
Tongue cut out
Oh hell be warned!
Death gives birth to unmatched power!
Wordless.
Silent.
Thunder shakes the strongest tower.

No more politics.
No flow’ry speech.
Truth will stand in ruthless silence,
Shouting without sound
Crying from the highest mountain
And all will hear
As, Truth, forced to silent grave,
Rises from the ground.

No white flags.

No powerless surrender.

Silence moves
Stealthy
Wise
Calculated.

Invisible hands,
Wrapped about my throat.
I cannot speak.

But I have my sword.

Truth.

;

Jesus walks into the room.

What will you say now?

Did silence pave His way?

Or was it the voice of those who cried against the norms:

Make a path in the place of death… the wilderness… where nothing of life has ever grown.
Where children’s souls are laid bare by reckless men!
Make way!
Behold! He comes! The Son of God! Make way
!”

He enters.
Holding no regard for rules.
Honouring no politics.
Crying louder for the lost
the wounded
the weak.
Standing silent only to accusation.
Crying out against their sin,
He eats of the forbidden grain.

I eat. 
With no regard for silence.
Breaking all the rules
of polite society.
Hearts are not healed
by
U
N
S
P
O
K
E
N
HOPE.

*************************************************************************************

 

Love,
~ T ~

© Trudy Metzger 2018

Another fine mess: FB account reported, and on becoming Dr. Gertruda… or is that Dr. Getruda? And La’wd… La’wd ha’mercy!

Sunday morning a friend contacted me pretty much first thing to ask I was okay. Yes, I was, great, why? He noticed my Facebook had disappeared…

When I signed in, Sunday morning – or more like, attempted to sign in – my account was not there. In it’s place were messages from Facebook ‘police’, asking me questions. I had been reported by one of my ‘friends’ for using a fake name on my account. Could I confirm I was using my real name?

La’wd… La’wd ha’mercy! With friends like that, you got the enemies all covered, right there too. No need for two lists.

It was, in fact, my own name I was using. I had Trudy, but with the title of Exec.Dir.,  as well as the name of an Admin person…..

And it all started when a brilliant idea struck me, recently….

I’ve contemplated how to manage the upcoming 4-year stretch, doing my PhD. I’m excited. I’m nervous. At moments it looks overwhelming. But mostly, I’m excited. The exciting part doesn’t need any explanations. The nervous part, that’s pretty simple too. It’s a challenge, an adventure in learning and experience. I like both. The overwhelming part, that’s so multifaceted I hardly know where to begin. There is home life. Social life. (That, I hear, is no more in the PhD process). There is family. There are friends. There are victims/survivors who are traumatized and reach out via FB. There are those who write to exhort and correct me, via FB. And I do not like to blow anyone off. No matter who you are, you are worthy of acknowledgment, whether you love me or hate me Since June I don’t think I’ve responded to less than 1000 Facebook messages and emails. Probably more. Before that, there were many, albeit not nearly that many in such a short time. And I welcome them and would wish to be able to respond personally and thoroughly to everyone, but at that rate, there is no way I can manage during university.

I had started creating a new forum for staying connected with friends, elsewhere, so that I would be able to deactivate my FB account. While deactivating was not my first preference, the idea of having messages build up for months at a time and never getting caught up overwhelms me. Those who have known me for years, know that in the past I responded to all messages within an hour or two (usually less) unless I was with a client, in a meeting, or away. In recent years that has not been possible. I don’t remember when I last had zero unread messages. So to have them collecting for weeks and months is not a good option. But to shut down an account where so many people message for resources – whether book suggestions, counsellor suggestions, or wondering if I know of any churches where victims are safe – I felt guilty

That’s when the brilliant idea struck me. I could add an administrator to my account. Rose Weber is a trusted friend whom we hired to be available for survivors contacting Generations Unleashed for support, locally, over the next four years.. She could respond to general questions, and forward specific ones to me. It was a perfect solution! Until it wasn’t.

And that moment came shortly after changing the information on my account. About two weeks prior to making the changes, I posted my brilliant idea on Facebook, to give friends a heads up about the upcoming change. No one seemed to have a problem with it. But within a few hours (or less) of changing the name, a friend contacted me, distressed that this ‘stranger’ would have access to all past messages. I responded, saying Rose would only be notified of new messages coming in, and take care of those. As we continued the exchange, I realized that I had not thought it through well enough. With text messages, when you add a new device, only new messages show unless taken from backup. With Messenger that would be different, and there would be no way to control that access. Upon realizing it, I apologized both publicly and privately, and set about letting my FB friends know I had made an error in judgement and not thought things through well enough.

The downside to this whole process was that Facebook wouldn’t let me change my name back for 60 days. I contemplated deactivating for that long, but decided to live with it, feeling a bit ‘Laurel and Hardy’ish, with “another fine mess” I got myself into by not thinking through the implications.

Screen Shot 2018-08-19 at 2.25.57 PM.png

Things went fine, after that, with friends sending messages, thanking me, and others talking about it publicly. Politely.

But it bothered me every time I saw the name. Only 57 days to go until I can change it… I was counting down.

And then Sunday morning, August 19, happened. My account wasn’t available. Some friend in the shadows was offended, or annoyed, or whatever…

In any case, I immediately set up a new account. It is Trudy Harder Metzger, just like the last one.  {Edit: my old account is back. FB approved my ‘name correction’. If we are not already connected, you are welcome to connect there: Trudy Metzger} However, please be warned in advance that I will not have much time to be messaging, as I start school in September, and Messenger has a way of becoming a time-consuming exchange (which I otherwise enjoy) as the back-and-forth happens, compared to email which is more like letter-writing. So please use info@generationsunleashed.com for the next four years for requests, to share your stories, or when looking for resource recommendations. I am committed to reading all personal messages, though I may have a volunteer assist with responding to resource requests etc.

After starting Generations Unleashed, I decided not to send friend requests anymore, with maybe a dozen or two exceptions in 6 years. The work I do, I figure if people want to read that heavy content, they can send me friend requests. That’s still true. I don’t need a large following, and I rarely send out friend requests. I am happy to interact in meaningful relationships – including those who respectfully challenge me, and even those who hate/despise me, as long as they are don’t resort to being abusive.

But, when it comes to those who are manipulative, underhanded and don’t have the cajones to say to my face what they say behind my back… Ima be honest… I really feel no need to connect with two-faced people. Just not at all. The same goes for those with an agenda to destroy others, or dehumanize them. I hate sexual abuse. I despise the wickedness. I advocate for victims/survivors and will always stand in their corner no matter who I am up against. I will not protect the crime or the criminal. I support criminals facing the consequences for their crimes – at the hands of the law, as well as the social protections that must be put in place. But I will seek redemption of the individual. Every. Single. Time.  Even the worst of offenders needs someone to care for his/her soul, to visit him/her in prison, to hold him/her accountable, to lead him/her to healing and to ensure he/she never again is given opportunity to offend like that again. It is unconscionable to think we should simply forgive and forget, and it is dangerous to presume they won’t reoffend if left floundering without that relational accountability and support. Part of redemption is creating that community where they are accountable and where redemption is valued – which does not always look like redemption to the religious who demand ‘forgetting’ as part of it. That is my heart. Still. If that is a conversation you cannot handle, or engage respectfully in spite of differences, I am probably the wrong person to connect with, and I certainly am the wrong person to align with in ministry.

That all said, if you want to stay connected via FB, and fall in any category except that two-faced, manipulative one, feel free to connect again. (And if you be petty enough to report a friend’s name change that offends you, without a conversation… Well, I’ll leave it at that.)

I value diverse relationships, but also expect I will post infrequently with university starting in a matter of two weeks, and don’t foresee having time for social media much.  I am told the process of doing a PhD is intense, and either makes you or breaks you, so I am preparing for something far more all-consuming than the Masters degree of the past two years. I’ve heard it’s a bit like hibernating. You go underground for weeks at a time, come up for sunshine, air, food and water, and then disappear again. Since my research focus is hopefully going to be about meeting with victims/survivors and others involved in crime among religious groups, I know it won’t be quite that bad, but nonetheless, it will be intense.

And the reward? I emerge on the other side with the title Dr. Gertruda Metzger. One might almost argue it is a punishment, a name like. But that’s my name. At least I thought it was, until I recently looked at my birth certificate only to discover otherwise. I was named in High German – Getruda, and then registered in Spanish, but using the High German spelling rather than the Spanish one of Gertruda, and then spent my whole life being called ‘Trutje’ in German, and ‘Trudy’ in English. I like both Trutje and Trudy. So Dr. Trudy Metzger would have been nice. All these years I have told people I was formally registered as Gertruda Harder, and now I find out ….

As it stands, I will love the next four years of study and search, only to become Dr. Getruda Metzger, but with Dr. Gertruda on the formal documents, because that is how I am registered in Canada.

As if hitting mid-life and starting menopause isn’t enough…

I think I’m going to buy a motorbike and do this midlife thing right. And maybe formally change my name.

On that happy note, I wish you all many blessings!

Love,
~ T ~

© Trudy Metzger 2018