Published by admin on 14 Jul 2008 at 07:59 am
Religion and Domestic Abuse
This article courtesy of STL Today
By Michele Munz
Kaye was a member of another congregation, a stranger when she visited Pat Merold, a pastor’s wife with an empathetic ear. The mother of four told her story hesitantly at first, barely looking up.
For years, Kaye’s husband called her fat and ugly. He brought women to their home for sex. He didn’t even try to hide it.
Kaye eventually mustered the courage to tell her minister what was happening.
But the minister belittled her pain. He said her husband, a church elder, was a good man. She just needed to be a better wife, he explained, then things would get better.
As she repeated her minister’s advice, Kaye’s quivering chin gave way to sobs.
Merold’s husband was pastor of a California church about 25 years ago when Kaye confided in her. It was the first time an abuse victim had come to her for help.
“What I learned was that these things do go on among people that go to church, and we have to listen,” said Merold, who moved with her husband, Ben, in 1991 to Harvester Christian Church in St. Charles.
For many reasons — often ignorance or denial — religious leaders struggle with how to respond to domestic abuse. Their focus is to keep families together and protect marriages, which, at times, can put their good intentions at odds with protecting victims, say advocates and some clergy members.
Yet clergy can be a powerful authority in challenging abusers, who sometimes falsely use religion to justify their abuse, research shows. Clergy also can be a source of physical and spiritual healing for victims.
Initiatives nationwide and locally are helping clergy to realize their unique role in combating domestic abuse and to respond to victims appropriately. The first step, advocates say, is to recognize that victims are in the pews.
Kaye eventually joined Merold’s church. Within a couple years, Kaye moved to another state to escape her husband.
Merold didn’t know it at the time, but Kaye’s ordeal was the first lesson in what would become her calling — to be a faith leader who listens and gives victims hope.
“It’s the lowered eyes, the sense of shame that grabs my heart,” Merold said.
