By Kathryn Smith Derksen
My own Mennonite church has struggled to get behind MAST (MCC Abuse Survivors Together) or talk openly about abuse allegations. Coming to terms with that led me to conversations with Linda Gehman Peachey this year.
Linda worked in MCC U.S. Peace and Justice Ministries for many years and shared some of what she observed after her role as Director of Women's Advocacy was terminated in 2011. Since that time, she has sensed decreasing commitment within MCC to address difficult issues such as systemic racism or violence against women, or to engage in justice work that questions our wealth and privilege as white people in North America. She has also observed that most MCC communications are directed toward raising money for the institution. While institutions are important, she mourns the loss of prophetic voices who could help us learn from those who bear the brunt of our national policies.
We talked about why it seems so impossible for us as Mennonites to criticize MCC. MCC makes us feel good about ourselves. No matter how bad things are around us, our quilts and our pennies are going to “the least of these,” and we can count on that being a good thing. Hearing that there is systemic mismanagement of employees and funds - to the point of abuse and illegal activity - is not welcome news. As more and more concerning cases keep coming to light, often involving damaging non-disclosure agreements and large pay outs to avoid legal battles and damage to MCC’s reputation, MCC has denied the need for an external investigation and continues to scapegoat those who have stepped forward.
Mennonite communities own MCC. It is we who fund and we who are ultimately responsible for the work that is done “in the name of Christ.” Why is it so hard to find the courage to face allegations of wrongdoing? With over one hundred different stories coming to light in the last two years, we can no longer deny that the problem is real and ongoing. And yet, denial continues. How can we speak to this blind-spot Mennonites have?
I ask you to picture yourself in these situations, and imagine what you would do and feel:
You have done everything your boss asks, and much more than your job description says, for two years. There has been no problem with your work. Yet suddenly, you are terminated without notice for being “over-qualified.”
After nearly twenty years of good work, you develop a serious health condition that requires surgery and rest. Your supervisors delay the surgery until it is critical, and then force you back to work ignoring doctor’s orders that you must rest and not travel. You finally resign to save your own life.
You hear that your partner is accused of fraud by another funding agency and mention this confidentially to your supervisor. Your supervisor talks to your partner and you are asked to leave the job and country immediately.
An exchange participant tells you that she is being sexually harassed within her host family. You are responsible for her safety and are horrified. However, all your efforts to bring accountability are thwarted – by Human Resources. To this day, young people continue to be placed in the same unsafe situation. You realize staff charged to protect young people are actually covering up abuse.
You are injured while on the job. Your supervisor doesn’t provide medical care; you are terminated.
You are hired to “sort out the books” of a complicated team’s financial situation, and you document evidence of financial misconduct and harassment within a partner organization. But your supervisor asks you to rewrite reports to hide the evidence, and soon you are terminated.
One of your colleagues rapes you. You tell your supervisor, you are put on probation for being alone with a man. Your supervisor insists on a mediation between you and man who raped you. Even after you formally complain to HR, he keeps his job and you have to continue working with him for the duration of your contract.
All these cases have been reported to MAST and anonymized here to protect survivors.
If you were in one of these situations, would you wonder what your rights were? Would you look through the personnel manual for policies to explain what happened to you, to help you? When you find that policies or due process weren’t followed, then what? What about those who are even more vulnerable than you - how can they be protected? And in many of these cases, you are suddenly without a job, income or health care. You may even be without a home or have to suddenly move yourself and your family internationally.
MAST has been calling it abuse since we started making stories public in 2024, and our Mennonite communities have bristled at the term. Linda had several insights about how challenging these allegations are to Mennonites, possibly because of our own trauma and culture of being silent and shaming those who disagree with us.
MCC says they have re-written policies and hired new HR staff, but that doesn’t help, because they are refusing to permit an external, independent investigation to truly learn what they are doing wrong. Following already existing policies would have provided due process and potentially prevented abuse and mismanagement in ALL of the cases alluded to above.
After several conversations, Linda agreed to draft some reflections about how we as Mennonites deal with differences, conflict and power. These were recently published by Anabaptist World in the article “To heal our wounds, release the ghosts of our past,” to help us process as the wider Mennonite community. Linda names several characteristics that are getting in our way: perfectionism, conflict avoidance, misuse of power, inferiority/shame, and superiority. These tendencies make it hard to see the log in our own eye.
Linda concludes her article in the community-building format of asking questions for discussion, such as “How can we turn away from our perfectionism” and “learn how to use our influence and authority wisely?” Reflecting on her article, Linda says “I keep wondering what keeps us from hearing and believing survivors? Who or what are we trying to protect? How can we better demonstrate that we do really value the lives of those who have been harmed and trust that they have wisdom we need to hear? What is the cost to us if we don't listen to those voices? These are some of the questions that keep haunting me.”
Survivors need their churches to hear them, and to care with action. MCC has made it clear they will not change course without donors insisting on it. What ARE we afraid of?
