Last week, my husband and I were in Chicago's O'Hare airport, pulling our suitcases toward the check-in queue, when my attention was drawn to the squeals of a small child. There -- not more than 20 feet in front of us -- was a young man, who appeared to be in his mid-20s, with a doubled-up belt in his hand striking at a little girl, who was possibly 2 or 3 years old. He wasn't spanking her. He swung the belt first over his right shoulder and down to hit her, perhaps on her back or head, and then over his left shoulder, with the belt now landing on another part of her body as she squirmed to avoid the hits while firmly in his grasp.
Directly beside the man and child, literally within striking distance, was a young woman standing with her arms crossed in front of her. Obviously, she was a part of the scene playing out in front of us, but she seemed oblivious to the interactions between the man and child. In fact, she stared out into space, straight ahead of her, as though she was all alone out in a field of cotton surveying the crop.
I stood dead in my tracks, transfixed on them, as my mind sorted out what I could do to stop what appeared to be excessive violence. The beating seemed to go on and on, but as I held my breath, I counted only four strikes. I looked around to find a security guard, wondering if what I was witnessing was illegal in the state of Illinois. (I have since done my homework, and in Illinois, a parent may legally strike a child with a belt if punishing the child.) Then, I reached into my purse to find my phone to video what I was witnessing, thinking, that if I was going to report the abuser, or confront him with what he had done, I would need evidence of the violence.
After pausing for what was probably only a few seconds, Ted and I proceeded to check-in our luggage, while my head swiveled on my neck owl-like to keep an eye on the trio. I was mesmerized. I couldn't believe this couple and child were behaving this way in such a crowded public space. The scene had played out in the very center of the ticketing area with people moving around them on all sides. The man went to sit down on a bench about 30 feet away still holding the doubled-up belt in his hand. Now, the woman was on the phone, still staring out into space. In the whole time I watched this trio, I never saw her once glance either at the child or at the man, as the child circled around her legs and then ran over to the man on the bench.
This next scene of the movement of the child between the two adults was almost as bizarre as the previous violence in the drama, as the child wove between the moving crowd to get from one parent-figure to the other. Neither the man nor the woman seemed to be paying much attention to her, other than the man's occasional menacing glare as he sat hunched over on the bench with the belt in his hands. Meanwhile, busy travelers bumped into the child, stopped or scooted over to avoid hitting her.
With our luggage safely in the hands of American Airlines, it was now time for us to go through security, and I still hadn't intervened in what appeared to me to be a dysfunctional family. I assumed the man and woman were the child's parents, and I further assumed their behavior was probably pretty typical in their home. My next assumption was that intervention would not be taken well by either parent -- which might or might not have been a valid assumption. I have intervened into the interaction of a mother with her child at a grocery store when I witnessed the mother losing her temper (probably with good cause), but addressing an angry young man with a belt in his hands at an airport didn't seem like it would go over well -- either for me, the woman or the child -- and certainly wouldn't accomplish the goal of encouraging him to change his behavior. So we walked on.
But I am haunted by both what I witnessed and my lack of an interventive response to what I saw. And as I reflect on their actions, my inaction and the thoughts that went through my head, there are theological and sociological issues that arise, including:
• How could any parent think it is OK to strike at a child that way, whether in public or private? What I witnessed was no spanking, and although he was shouting at the child to behave, her screams and efforts to avoid the severity of his beating seemed to indicate more was going on than pure discipline. The man was lashing out in anger.
• Do the images of a vengeful God as depicted in parts of the Old Testament encourage or support violence among those calling themselves Christians?
• How could a mother allow a man -- whether the father of the child or not -- to hit her child so forcefully, possibly striking the little girl in the face?
• Was the woman also a victim of abuse? Was her staring into space a sign of trying to distance herself from what she couldn't stop?
• How does Christianity that encourages male dominance and female submission -- in which women are not allowed to have leadership roles in church -- factor into dysfunctional, violent family systems?
• Were these two young adults brought up in families in which children were disciplined in this way? Is this their norm?
• What in the world is going to become of this little girl? Will she grow up to expect abuse from the men in her lives, as though she is such a "bad girl" she deserves being beaten?
• How many young women find themselves in similar situations, either tacitly agreeing that corporal punishment with a belt is justified for a toddler or unable to stop the violence without incurring wrath themselves?
• Why was I so quick to judge, but so slow to act?
• What does "honor your father and mother" entail? What if parents aren't honorable?
• What is a good way to calmly and caringly interrupt violence in public spaces, when the violence itself is condoned by law?
Here it is Mothers' Day weekend, when we honor our mothers. Internally and externally, each of us celebrate our own mothers -- as we will do our fathers on Fathers' Day. I have been blessed with a good mother -- and was blessed with a good father. More and more, I am thankful to God for that blessing. But more and more I am frustrated -- perhaps with God -- that all children are not equally blessed. I am also frustrated with myself when I squander opportunities to halt -- if only for a few moments -- violence inflicted by a parent or parents on a small child.
Thank you to Peace at Home and the Northwest Arkansas Women's Shelter for providing homes for mothers who have had the courage to take the first step toward protecting themselves and their children. Thank you to school counselors and pastors who report abuse, knowing the incurring anger of parents that will follow. Thank you to foster home parents, to social workers and attorneys in social services, to CASA, and to so many addressing the complexity of abuse against women and children.
Praying for peace isn't just praying for an end to war between nations. The world needs God's shalom between individuals and within individuals. May it be so.
NAN Religion on 05/13/2017