When Did we See You Naked?. Группа авторов

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СКАЧАТЬ be avoided’ and nothing be seen that is disorderly or unbecoming.4 Although the convention of a loincloth was already established in practice, this ruling explicitly increased the pressure to conform to such conventions, with those who flouted it at risk of being declared anathema. As a result, there are few visual images which illustrate the reality of Jesus’ naked exposure. The number started to increase in the twentieth century, but these are still a small minority. In the common visual imagination of crucifixion, both in churches and in wider society, a modest loincloth obscures the clear historical record of the nature of crucifixion.

      Despite the fact that a fully naked Jesus is only rarely depicted, the historical reality is nonetheless quite widely known. Historians and biblical scholars believe that Jesus was fully naked on the cross even though it is rarely discussed in detail. Similarly, many churchgoers are familiar with this reality and so describing Jesus as naked on the cross is not new.

Over the years, our experience has been that it is the naming of the stripping and nakedness as sexual abuse that is new to people, rather than the nakedness itself. And it is here that we come to a strange mismatch between what we know and what we acknowledge. It seems it is possible to know about the nakedness of Jesus on the cross, and even see this depicted in some artistic works, and yet still not describe or name his stripping and forced naked exposure as sexual abuse. This reticence becomes more obvious if we contrast it with contemporary examples of prisoners who have been stripped naked in detention, such as, for example, the prisoner abuse at Abu Ghraib in Iraq in the early 2000s.5 There was no reticence in the wide coverage of this scandal or in describing the stripped and humiliated detainees at Abu Ghraib prison as victims of sexual abuse. Indeed, it was so obvious that a reluctance to describe it in such a way would be seen as dishonest.

      Some have suggested that Jesus suffered abuse, but that stripping and exposure are not really sexual. This raises questions about when abuse should be recognized or qualified as sexual abuse. To believe that the more generic term of ‘abuse’ (instead of ‘sexual abuse’) would be preferable is problematic. What sort of abuse is stripping and forced exposure if it is not sexual abuse? Public stripping, enforced nakedness and sexual humiliation constitute sexual abuse because they are attacks on sexual identity and sexual vulnerability. They have a specifically sexual meaning. They derive their power and impact because they were understood – and still are understood – to have a sexual dimension. To name them only as abuse is to mischaracterize what has happened, which serves to distort the reality of Jesus’ experience.

      When the initial surprise has passed, many people find it difficult to understand why it has taken them so long to see what is obvious, something that seems, in fact, to have been hidden in plain sight. They ask questions about what might have prevented them from seeing this before, and they often wonder why it is never mentioned in sermons. These questions should be taken seriously. Unspoken reasons behind the reluctance to notice and name Jesus’ experience as sexual abuse need to be recognized. Deeper conversations on the subject often reveal that assumptions about stigma are a critical factor in people’s attitudes. Most frequently, the resistance comes from the sense that Jesus would be somehow demeaned and less worthy as a saviour if he were a victim of sexual abuse.

      The stigma and shame that comes with being named as a victim of sexual abuse is one of the central concerns that we want to identify and explore in this volume. The early Church spoke of the immense shame Jesus endured in his trial, torture and execution. Indeed, in this light the profound shame may be the key to the offence and scandal of the cross acknowledged by the apostle Paul in 1 Corinthians 1.23. However, over the centuries the memory of this shame has been lost. Despite the display of so many images of Jesus’ body hanging from a cross, we are unable to see what is right in front of us. When it is named in ways that make the shame and humiliation more explicit, this naming is often resisted.

We see the resistance to the idea as at least as important as the idea itself. It is because of the resistance that we as editors felt it important to put this collection together. A question articulated by a respondent to a recent presentation captured this issue succinctly: ‘If it is acceptable to say that Jesus suffered torture and crucifixion, why is it not acceptable to say that he was the victim of sexual abuse as well?’6

      There are several levels to this discussion: what happened, why people resist this idea, and why these both matter. The issues are closely linked to the importance of acknowledging that Jesus was a victim of sexual abuse. We believe that appropriately exploring these painful and difficult issues can lead to positive consequences for survivors of abuse, those who love them, for the Church as the body of Christ, and for the wider society in which silence about sexual violence has been accepted as the norm. We hope to provoke a longer-term conversation.

A starting point for this volume is the work by David Tombs from over 20 years ago. In his 1999 article ‘Crucifixion, State Terror, and Sexual Abuse’, Tombs drew on Latin American liberationist hermeneutics for a reading of biblical texts with attention to both past and present contexts.7 He described the dynamics of state terror and sexual abuse in the torture practices of the regimes of Brazil, Chile, Argentina, Guatemala and El Salvador in the 1970s and 1980s. He then used this historical reality as a vantage point from which to re-examine Roman crucifixion practices that might shed light on the biblical narratives. A guiding hermeneutical principle was that those reports on torture provided a lens through which to see the first-century context and the biblical text in new ways.

      Understanding the use of torture for state terror – and the prevalence of sexual abuse in torture practices – provides insights into what is clearly present within the texts but is often unrecognized or ignored. Torture reports also raise the possibility of further sexual assault that may have taken place in the praetorium. Since this article was first published in 1999, reports from Sri Lanka, Libya, Syria, Democratic Republic of Congo, South Sudan, Myanmar and other contexts have attested to a range of sexual abuses being a feature of the mistreatment of prisoners in detention and a global issue.

Tombs’ article focused primarily on a historical rereading and the hermeneutical approach that might support this. However, in a short final section it offered a brief reflection on some of the theological and pastoral implications of this recognition prompted by the parable of judgement (Matt. 25.31–46). Matthew 25.40 provides a clear theological basis for affirming that Christ shares in the suffering of others: ‘Truly I tell you, just as you did it to one of the least of these who are members of my family, you did it to me.’8

      We have taken the words ‘When did we see you naked?’ (Matt. 25.38–40) from the parable as the title for this book. The parable of judgement does not suggest that Jesus was himself naked, nor did he need to be for his teaching to convey his message. However, the words capture a question that needs to be asked. Later, in Matthew 27, as the passion story unfolds, this question, ‘When did we see you naked?’ becomes more urgent and immediately relevant. The book title is intended to raise the question as to whether we see the naked Jesus in Matthew 27 and other texts or avoid what is in front of us. It is an invitation to reflect back during the passion narratives to the question asked in Matthew 25.38–40 with a new awareness of what was actually done to Jesus and a new sense of what he might fully share with others.

      In this book we explore both Jesus’ historical experience of sexual abuse and the theological and pastoral significance that this might have today. We are not saying that sexual abuse is the only form of suffering that Jesus experienced in his trial, torture and execution. It is not our intention to limit understandings of Jesus’ crucifixion in any way. Instead, our aim is to broaden the established narrative and to notice the gaps in the story that have heretofore been untold and/or unacknowledged.

      Sexual СКАЧАТЬ