What We Learn from Scandal

A word that we often hear in Church circles is the emotive term “scandal”. We use it as Church people looking out at the world and outraged at something that has been done.

The scandal of Nkandla! The scandal of corporate greed! The scandal of teenage pregnancy! The scandal of nuclear weapons!

There is a biblical source for this word. When St Paul writes about how hard it is for people to believe in Jesus (1 Cor 1:23) he refers to the crucifixion—the idea that the anointed one of God might be subject to such a humiliating execution—as “a stumbling block for the Jews”. The Greek word he uses for stumbling block is the source of our modern word “scandal”.

So scandal is not just behaviour that causes outrage but behaviour that undermines our belief in a person or an institution or a principle.

For the Jews whom Paul was describing, belief in an all-powerful God was undermined by the idea that God could let his anointed one die.

For many South Africans, the expenditure on Nkandla was a scandal not about a person but rather the way in which it undermined belief in important institutions, like the presidency or Parliament or the judiciary.

Scandal depends on perspective. The Jews were scandalised because their belief about how God’s Messiah would act was being undermined, and thus they reject a crucified Jesus. But equally, many Christians would be scandalised by the rejection of a Messiah who was willing to suffer for us.

If we are outraged how do we react? Do we reject the scandal to hold on to the prior belief? Or does the scandal help us to reassess and change the prior belief?

However we react, the emotion that comes with scandal is one that can be very effective. It can motivate us—generally peaceful, non-confrontational believers—to get up and shout about an issue and demand that “something must be done”.

But as always with these emotionally loaded terms we have to be careful that we don’t devalue them from over-use. If the traffic on the M1 and the bad service at the bank and Nkandla are all “a scandal”, our self-righteous energy might be spread a bit too thinly.

 

In recent years the word scandal has also, sadly, been used not just by the Church but about the Church. I don’t need to rehearse here the various scandals that we have heard about, from child abuse to financial corruption to extravagant bishops to sexual misdemeanours. Again, all of these are called scandal because they evoke indignation (even anger), undermine our faith in the institution, and warrant a strong response.

But notice that for “scandal” to be invoked, there has to be public knowledge of the act. One of the mistakes made over child abuse (whether with good intention or bad) was the covering up of cases for fear that their public admission would “cause scandal”.

Or in other words, the stumbling block to faith was seen not in the fact of an abusive priest but only in the public awareness of the abusive priest. In the end, of course, the scandal of the abuses was compounded by the further scandal of the attempts to cover up the cases. Faith in the Church was for many doubly undermined.

Thankfully, the Church has mostly now learnt that in a media-savvy age it is neither wise nor possible to cover up problems indefinitely. So we are becoming more willing as a Church to admit to ourselves and to others the faults of individuals and institutions.

When we, as Christians, hear about those scandals, we are appropriately indignant. But we are also challenged to remember the Gospel injunction to pardon others.

How do we get the balance right between the cry of scandal and the call for forgiveness? Let me give some real life examples.

A man has been working for a Church charity but has recently been fired after it was found he had been siphoning off donations that were given for the poor. It is widely known that this is why he lost his job and yet he continues to play an active and public role as a minister in his parish. Perhaps this is appropriate forgiveness.

But what if he has made no attempt to pay back what he took or show regret? Our belief in the honesty of Church workers has been undermined. But in this case, does forgiveness help restore our faith or further weaken it?

Conversely, a priest has had to leave his position after it was found out that he was having a sexual affair. He too is forgiven, at least by some people. But others are still scandalised. Is his public admission of fault and his request for forgiveness not enough? Our belief in the integrity of priests has been undermined. And in this case does forgiveness help restore our faith or further weaken it?

Forgiveness certainly has its place, but it seems that it is only justified after there has been an act of remorse as public as the initial act of scandal. Otherwise it is too cheaply won.

Each of us reacts to different scandals in different ways. More or less indignation. More or less anger. More or less willingness to forgive. And that in turn may say as much about me and my own temptations as it does about the person at the centre of the scandal.

As we live through scandals as a community, perhaps it is a way for the Holy Spirit to help us to emerge in the end with a stronger and more honest faith.