I’ve been struggling with what to say this last week. I wanted to say something. I needed to say something. But what?
A civil lawsuit in September this year was brought by “Jane Doe” against seven fraternity members of Cornell University for drugging and gang raping her at a fraternity party in 2024. The civil lawsuit includes Cornell University itself for failing to protect her.
The public scrutiny exploded because when the allegations were made, none of the seven were criminally charged and, as the lawsuit alleges, that they were allowed the opportunity to “mitigate their conduct” by submitting essays (which Cornell denies).
The outrage also surrounds a group chat with 57 members – the 7 alleged perpetrators and 50 others – which was live at the time of the events. The messages cited by the lawsuit are shocking and gut-wrenching. They document what was happening to Jane Doe and encourage others to come and join in, in graphic terms. Some of the other 50 men did not join in the physical acts, but engaged with the messages. Others did nothing.
And that is what is so incredibly heart breaking.
They did nothing.
They knew it was happening and either believed it was not wrong, or knew it was wrong but decided not to say anything or step in to protect her.
Not. One.
And this is how such unspeakable acts keep happening.
“The only thing necessary for the triumph of evil is for good men to do nothing.” This has been attributed to 19th century political thinker Edmund Burke but is actually probably a paraphrase of a quote from John Stuart Mill in 1867. The whole quote bears repeating:
“Let not any one pacify his conscience by the delusion that he can do no harm if he takes no part, and forms no opinion. Bad men need nothing more to compass their ends, than that good men should look on and do nothing. He is not a good man who, without a protest, allows wrong to be committed in his name, and with the means which he helps to supply, because he will not trouble himself to use his mind on the subject.”
God, in the person of Jesus, showed unequivocally his view of women. He treated them with respect (Luke 8:43-48), he included them (Luke 10:38-42), he protected them (John 8:2-11), he stepped in on their behalf when attacked (Mark 14:3-9).
Throughout the New Testament gospels and the teaching of Jesus as pastorally lived out in the letters, show Jesus’ condemnation of violence, anger, malice and preying on the vulnerable. Jesus’ treatment of women is a living example of God’s teaching throughout the Old Testament, first in woman’s equal image bearing (think about that, both men and women bear the image of God – how can we possibly even contemplate such despicable acts against any of God’s creation?); and second through the repeated commands God proclaims to protect those who are vulnerable:
You shall not mistreat any widow or fatherless child (Ex. 22:22)
Cursed be anyone who perverts the course of justice due to the foreigner, the fatherless and the widow. (Deut. 27:19)
Learn to do good; seek justice, correct oppression; bring justice to the fatherless, plead the widow’s cause (Is. 1:17)
Do not oppress the widow, the fatherless, the sojourner, or the poor, and let none of you devise evil against another in your heart (Zach. 7:10)
The Lord tests the righteous, but his soul hates the wicked and the one who loves violence (Ps. 11:5)
Love does no wrong to a neighbour; therefore love is the fulfilling of the law (Rom. 13:10)
I could go on. The New Testament abounds with explicit commands and lived examples of loving God and loving neighbour and what that looks like in real life. It looks like love, peace, kindness, goodness, gentleness and self-control (Gal. 4:22-23). The very verses just prior to this show what it is not: sexual immorality, impurity, debauchery, hatred, fits of rage, selfish ambition, drunkenness (Gal. 4:19-21).
So I pray that the investigation reveals truth.
I pray for justice, both temporal, and eternal.
I pray for healing.
I pray, oh my gosh, I pray so fervently, for good men to be bold. There are good men – so many. But we need more. We so desperately need more who will speak up.
We worship a man who was gentle and lowly and who gave himself for the sake of others. I pray that all of us would be drawn to him, and grow in Christ-likeness.
In the meantime, I lay all my tears and anguish at his feet and beg for change in a world that is so horribly and jaggedly broken. I ask him to hold my fear and confusion that such terrible things could happen, because I don’t know how to hold those feelings. They are too big, too raw, too present.