IN THIS ISSUE
On July 7, 2014, Pope Francis invited six victims of clerical sexual
abuse to the Vatican where he met with them individually to ask for
forgiveness on behalf of the church. "Before God and his people,"
Francis stated in a homily following the meetings, ”I express my sorrow
for the sins . . . committed against you. And I humbly ask forgiveness. I
beg your forgiveness, too, for the sins of omission on the part of church
leaders who did not respond adequately to reports of abuse made by
family members, as well as by abuse victims themselves."
Critics of the Catholic Church quickly dismissed the pope’s actions as
merely symbolic. Yet the public apology by the church’s highest leader
made it clear that the pattern of denying or minimizing the history of
clerical sexual abuse could no longer be sustained. In his concluding
words, Francis praised the courage of those who had dared to “shed
light on a terrible darkness in the life of the Church.”
Clearly, the Catholic Church has not been alone in its failures. In
recent years, revelations of sexual abuse by well-known evangelical
leaders have been widely reported-often following a familiar sequence
of vigorous denial, disparaging claims about the victims, and strenuous
efforts to preserve the reputation of the organization associated with the
leader. And even though Mennonites would like to believe that their
commitment to the gospel of peace has made them immune to
sexualized violence, the painful truth is that abuse by church leaders is a
reality in their tradition as well.
This issue of The Mennonite Quarterly Review is devoted to the theme
of sexual abuse-and the related motifs of discipline, healing, and
forgiveness-within the Mennonite Church, with a particular focus on
the controversy surrounding the actions of its most widely recognized
theologian, John Howard Yoder (1927-1997).
We recognize the intense pain and controversy associated with this
topic. Our decision to engage it in this public forum was not made
casually. Clearly, many in the church are weary of the subject. Some are
convinced that these issues have already been sufficiently addressed-an
erring brother was restored to fellowship in the church and the time has
come to put this topic to rest. Others have argued that the norms
defining appropriate behavior have changed so significantly in recent
decades that it is unfair to judge actions of the past by the standards of
the present. Still others insist that we remain too close to the polarized
context of the events to judge the facts fairly. And people on all sides of
the conversation acknowledge with sadness the ongoing pain suffered
by those most directly involved, along with friends and family members.
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4 In This Issue
As editor of a journal committed to principles of balance and fairness,
I am sympathetic with these concerns. Nonetheless, the arguments in
favor for of transparency are more compelling.
The first, and most important, reason for this special issue is the
painful fact that sexual abuse is a reality among Mennonites, and that the
church needs a forum to engage topics like discipline, accountability,
and healing in a thoughtful way. Although the figure of Iohn Howard
Yoder looms large in the pages that follow, the primary goal of this issue
has been to reflect critically on the broader themes surrounding that
story. What, for example, has changed in the Mennonite Church since
the 1970s, when concerns about sexual abuse were first raised in a public
way? What have we learned since then about the trauma associated with
sexualized violence? What pastoral insights for healing-both personal
and collective-have we gleaned along the way? How do these
experiences inform our understandings of forgiveness? And what are the
larger blind spots in Anabaptist-Mennonite theology and practice that
have made it difficult to exercise appropriate discipline with offenders?
These are all questions that the church must continue to address on the
basis of careful scholarship and reflection, as this issue seeks to do.
Second, this issue of MQR explicitly addresses the details of ]ohn
Howard Yoder’s thought and actions because of his undisputed
prominence in twentieth~century Mennonite theology, ethics,
ecclesiology, and culture. Though relations with his coreligionists could
sometimes be tense, Yoder was without a doubt the most widely-
recognized Mennonite of his generation. For decades, he served as the
primary spokesman for peace church theology, bringing Anabaptist
perspectives to bear in countless ecumenical and interfaith encounters.
The authority he wielded was vested not in an office, but in the breadth
Of his learning, the depth of his convictions, the range of his linguistic
and rhetorical skills, and the profound insights of his interdisciplinary
publications. His writings shaped the theological trajectory of Christians
around the world, far beyond the boundaries of the Mennonite Church.
Moreover, until 1993, when he was quietly removed as a member of the
MQR Board of Editors as part of a disciplinary process, Yoder had a
close association with this journal. He was not only a frequent
contributor to MQR, publishing nine articles and dozens of book
reviews, but in 1997 we published a comprehensive bibliography of
Yoder's writings and we have printed numerous essays engaging his
thought, including a special issue (July 2003) devoted entirely to his
work. Given Yoder’s public prominence, and the considerable attention
granted to his scholarship in this journal, it is appropriate for
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reassessments of his life and work to also find expression in the pages of
MQR.
Finally, for at least twenty years prior to his death in 1997, stories
were circulating in the Mennonite church and beyond that vaguely
associated Yoder with inappropriate behaviors. Yet few people were
entirely clear about what, exactly, those behaviors entailed, whether or
not they were consensual, and who had the authority to call him to
account. Although scores of women reported that they had been the
recipients of Yoder’s unwelcomed attention, their concerns were often
met with a frustrating silence or a sense that those in authority had failed
to respond effectively. Along the way, numerous individuals, some
seven different accountability groups, and a variety of church
institutions generally agreed to maintain confidentiality regarding
Yoder’s actions. Those efforts to control information frequently fostered
confusion, left victims feeling powerless, and created the impression that
church institutions were more interested in preserving their reputations
than redressing grievances. As a result of this shroud of secrecy, the
wounds of the past have continued to fester.
The essay by historian Rachel Waltner Goossen that opens this issue
marks a crucial step forward in shedding light on a story that has been
kept in the shadows for far too long. Written at the invitation of a
discernment group appointed by leaders of Mennonite Church USA and
Anabaptist Mennonite Biblical Seminary, Waltner Goossen’s narrative
provides a careful account of the complex issues that have swirled
around Yoder and his legacy for the past three decades. The results of
her study, based on numerous interviews and an exhaustive examination
of the available archival and print sources, are sobering. Among other
findings, Waltner Goossen’s essay makes it clear that Yoder’s persistent
experimentation with new forms of Christian intimacy often had
debilitating consequences-first and foremost for the many women who
were affected by his overtures, but also for church leaders and
institutions who invested enormous resources of time and energy in
disciplinary processes that were largely ineffective. Repeatedly, Yoder
rejected criticisms of his actions with the pernicious argument that the
world-or uncomprehending skeptics in his own circles-will always
misunderstand the revolutionary claims of the gospel. At the same time,
Yoder was preoccupied with secrecy as he reached out to women; and he
often made confidentiality an absolute precondition for his engagement
with various accountability groups, frequently citing the principles of
Matthew 18. Though one of the disciplinary processes did eventually
conclude with Yoder’s restoration to full fellowship in his home
6 In This Issue
congregation and to broader church ministry, a host of unresolved
relationships clearly persisted until his death. Waltner Goossen’s essay
will not be the final word in this story. But it does provide a bracingly
clear narrative and the essential sources necessary for an informed
debate to go forward.
The essays that follow shift the focus from Yoder to a larger ecclesial
context. Thus, Carolyn Holderread Heggen and Rebecca Slough,
drawing on clinical, pastoral, and theological insights, offer specific
guidance to pastors and congregations who are walking alongside
survivors of sexual violence in their long journey toward recovery. Linda
Gehman Peachey then traces the growing awareness in the Mennonite
Church of the reality of sexual abuse and the efforts of Mennonite
Central Committee and other church leaders to respond with
congregational guidelines, print resources, news articles, and support
networks for abuse victims. Gayle Gerber Koontz follows with a
probing theological reflection on the gospel's ”frustratingly extravagant
call to forgive." And articles by jamie Pitts and by coauthors Paul
Martens and David Cramer explore the deeper theological tensions
embedded in the Yoder legacy. These final essays, and the fact that we
conclude the issue with an extended review by ]ohn Rempel of a recent
book about Yoder, signal our intention to continue engaging Yoder’s
thought in the future.
This issue of MQR will not resolve the problem of sexual abuse in the
Mennonite Church; nor will it lay to rest the issues surrounding ]ohn
Howard Yoder and the church's response to his sexual politics. But it
does mark a step in the direction of transparency, a renewed resolve to
allow light to shine in places that have been dominated by darkness.
That transparency, however, dare not stop with a public account of
Yoder’s actions, or a confession by church leaders and institutions of
their culpability in what transpired. Right remembering must also
include an acknowledgement of a larger collective guilt-a public
recognition of our failure as a church to question the authority granted to
our public icons, making us blind to things we should have seen, and
unable or unwilling to respond decisively on behalf of the vulnerable
and the injured. The way forward would be easier, as the Russian
novelist Alexander Solzhenitsyn has written, ”if it were necessary only to
separate [evil-doers] from the rest of us .... But the dividing line
between good and evil cuts through the heart of every human being."
In the stark light of that truth, we can only respond in humility,
resolving by God's grace to do better.
- John D. Roth, editor
