"I swear to tell the truth,"

"I swear to tell the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth."

Under penalty of perjury, I was sworn in and promised to tell the truth, not to cover up what was inconvenient or unfortunate, to answer all questions truthfully without intent to deceive.

And so I did.

One of the hardest things I've ever been asked to do was testify, under oath, against friends, valued colleagues, a community I respected. But I had to tell the truth.

The Evangelical Lutheran Church in America and one of its seminaries and members of its faculty were being sued in 2003 by the families of young boys who had been molested by an ELCA pastor. The pastor had already been found guilty in criminal court and was in prison.

Why the lawsuit?

Because his sexual misconduct while on an internship during seminary had been reported. Because the church ordained him anyway and turned him loose, gave him access to reoffend. Had the warnings been heeded, he would not have been granted pastoral authority and access in a small Texas town to lure teen-age boys into relationships where they were vulnerable and were then molested.

As I remember (I was deep into my own early days of PTSD at the time), I was primarily an expert witness. Which is to say, called upon to testify about the plans and policies put in place by the ELCA, of which I was an author and had been director during the time period in question, which were not followed in this case.

Essentially, the question was, did we know better? Did the seminary and the faculty and the church know better when it ordained and sent this pastor into an unsuspecting parish and town?

I had to say, yes. They did. I knew they did. I was there when they heard, and learned and discussed it.

It was awkward at best and painful as well to have to testify, essentially, against good friends and colleagues who had, frankly, blown it. Blown it big time.

What is the higher value, loyalty? Or, as the Scriptures tell us again and again and again and again (which is to say, all the time), to protect the vulnerable, the weak, the lost?

What is our highest responsibility? Safety. And, as the Hippocratic Oath demans of physicians, to do no harm.

It was a wrenching day. Eight full hours of testimony. It stirred up a lot of current shit. I'd recently been attacked for being disloyal to "the team" and dangerous to an ongoing cover-up elsewhere in the ELCA. I had already suffered, and suffer still, for threatening the status quo.

The colleagues who had most to lose on that day were classy and mature enough to understand that I did what I had to do. I did what was the right thing to do. I told the truth. And I'd do it again.

I may have to.

Is Lightness Bearable?

Much as we say we love light, we often don't.

Bertold Brecht wrote, "Mankind cannot stand too much reality."

I'm not always a big fan of reality myself. Harsh realities intrude on our summer moments, ugly truths rear their ugly heads and we're back in the thick of it.

I can't believe how much, how penetrating, and how important is the media coverage of clergy sexual abuse these days. Of course, we who are not Roman Catholic read with a certain illusory comfort: this is not our problem.

But, oh, friends, it is. It is it is it is.

My seventeen-year-old friends get it. Adults having sex with children, even adolescents, is wrong. It is even more wrong when those adults are persons with positions of trust and authority viz those young people. It is even worse when those adults are clergy, or preparing to become clergy, as we have acknowledged standards about sexual behavior, and about the appropriate use of our power, that are explicit. And at the heart of what we do.

It is wrong, so they tell me, for persons in positions of trust, power and authority to use that power for their own personal pleasure and benefit. Whether their victims are children or adults. It's all about power. The abuse of power. It is wrong. Like I said, seventeen-year-olds have this figured out. Why is it so difficult for church leaders? The behavior is wrong. Harmful. Manipulative. Contrary to our promises to respect and build up the people of God.

And it is even worse when the behavior is covered-up.

The Vatican is finally feeling the weight of all these failures to protect the innocent, by allowing offenders, perpetrators continuing access to vulnerable parishioners.

Their problem is ours. Our commitment has "eroded" in recent years, as one journalist put it recently. We have continued to cover up the sexual abuse, misconduct, harassment -- call it all of those things -- of our clergy. And allow them access, power, authority and access to persons who can become vulnerable to their sexual overtures, advances, and behaviors.

We do it. We do it. We keep fucking doing it. When will we learn? What will it take?

Meanwhile, when clergy are finally 'outed,' whether specifically for their sexual or covered over by references to other misconduct, the church rallies around them with good wishes, prayers, and strong warnings to avoid judgment, given that "we all sin." I have no problem with praying for broken persons, be they clergy or not.

But it is wrong, it is immoral and a failure of our Christian calling and unity as the body of Christ to not also lift up those who have become victims of that 'fallen' behavior. I find that completely absent from any recent news about clergy who are experiencing addictions and emotional distress.

Let's remember the emotional distress of their victims. Let's lift them up and make sure they are receiving the same level of expert psychological care we extend to the offenders. Let's lift them up, hold them close in our hearts, and, while protecting their confidentiality, make clear that the main problem is what happened to them.

Is lightness bearable? Not yet. Not in this church, not in a lot of places. When can we find the courage to tell the truth? When will we find the courage, and the compassion, to expose our whole lives to the light of God's grace (and the community's awareness).

Let's trust the laity of the church, let's respect them. Let's let the light shine.

If we dare.