UUC: Rev. Christine Brownlie: Betrayal and Recovery

I want to begin this sermon with the confession of a “guilty pleasure” that I’ve taken up this past year or so. I have added the “John Boy and Billy” radio show to my morning routine as an alternative to my usual fare of news, news analysis, and more news.

Some of the skits and the humor that John Boy and Bill offer up are just flat out dumb, even offensive. But I love the “dumb crook” reports. This can be so hilarious and get me laughing so hard that I have to pull off the road until I calm down and wipe the tears from my eyes.

My favorite “dumb crook story” was about a guy who bought some pricey items using a stolen credit card. As the clerk was ringing up the sale the man suddenly pulled out his own personal “frequent buyer’s card” and gave it to the clerk. Apparently he wanted to save a few bucks. Of course, that card included his name, address, etc., and he was quickly arrested. “John Boy” wondered why this thief was trying to save a few bucks when he was stealing from someone else to pay for what he’d bought. Maybe he was feeling guilty and wanted to soften the blow for his victim.

Over the past few months, as I’ve observed the drama of our unfolding economic woes, some of the things that have been done by the various financial institutions and their borrowers have similarities to the follies of stupid crooks. But I’m not laughing. I’m angry, frustrated, worried, and bewildered by the power of greed to make people forget common sense and basic ethics. I feel betrayed, and I don’t like it.

Betrayal — even by a total stranger — is upsetting and confusing. My emotions have bounced around from day to day to day. I felt outraged that lenders would make loans to people who lacked the resources to repay a mortgage. I was shocked at the brazen behavior of financial advisors and bankers and others who simply bilked people out of their money — in some cases for years! I tried to understand the mindset of someone who makes a living by developing a trusting relationship with another person for the sole purpose of stealing his or her money, and I’m relieved to say that I couldn’t do it. But I could easily crawl into the head of someone who has experienced betrayal. Like most of you, I know the churning mass of emotions that comes with the pain of discovering that I’ve been betrayed.

Betrayal takes many forms, from the broken promise to embezzlement to a set-up that leads to murder, but in the end, it is simply a violation of trust and commonly accepted values, through treachery or fraud. The universality of this experience and the predictable reaction to betrayal has made this “dastardly deed” a common theme in stories from what some call “time before time.” What does the story of Adam and Eve, the first story of the Jewish and Christian Bible, turn on? Betrayal. God provides two people with a paradise as a home and asks only that they not eat of the fruit of one tree. What do they do? They betray God’s trust and then lie about it. And so it goes, story after story, through all of the great religious myths, literature, and art of the world. Betrayal is universal and archetypal.

The most common form of betrayal is sexual infidelity within a committed relationship. But any relationship can suffer the pangs of betrayal. A friend repeats something that was said in strict confidence, a co-worker steals an idea and claims it as his or her own during a meeting. A pharmacist shorts the number of pills in the prescriptions she dispenses, a contractor charges a premium price for lower-grade materials, a teacher lures a child into a sexual relationship. A politician takes bribes or misuses funds. The stories are all too common. ^¹

Why is betrayal so painful? There are many reasons, and I think it’s worth looking at them one at a time; for in this painful list, there are some clues that may help us ease the pain and heal the heart.

We all hold expectations about how the people in our lives are supposed to behave. These expectations are the foundation of our relationships, both personal and professional. Most Americans expect that the man or woman who profess to love us should be loyal and faithful, even in the face of temptation. We believe that our friends should respect us, care for us, and keep the promises that they make — despite the thrill of divulging a juicy piece of gossip.

Office ethics demand that co-workers not steal from one another, whether it’s the lunch left overnight in the refrigerator or the brilliant idea that came during our morning commute. We expect that adults, especially those who are charged with the care and education of children, will nurture and protect them. The politicians that we elect are to serve the people, not their own desires for power and wealth. We hold these expectations, despite mountains of evidence that men and women often fail to meet them.

When these expectations are shattered by a betrayal, we suffer a loss of confidence, not just in the person who betrayed us, but in ourselves as well. We may doubt our ability to protect ourselves and the people we care about. We question our ability to judge the character and actions of others. We may feel deep shame that we were so gullible and naïve, especially if the acts of betrayal have been going on for years, right under our proverbial noses.

If the betrayal involves someone in a position of political power, our assumptions and beliefs about our government or the values held by our fellow countrymen and women can be damaged to the point that we lose faith in the political process. We feel deep anger at being mistreated at such a fundamental level, and we want to avoid being played for a fool again.

When betrayal occurs in an intimate relationship, we may question our own judgment and spend time reviewing the past, looking for words and actions that were signals that things were not really what they appeared to be. We have been fooled, and we feel foolish and deeply wounded.

It can take a very long time to heal from betrayal. Years after the event, we may have difficulty forming a healthy relationship with anyone who makes an overture of friendship or love. Anyone who claims authority or a special place because of power or wealth or special ability is greeted with cynicism. Our experience of betrayal has taught us that people and even institutions are not what they claim to be or what we thought they were.

If we experience a betrayal by someone who is an important figure in our daily life, the experience can be devastating — even if we don’t actually know that person. The discovery that someone who has been admired and trusted and held up as an example is involved in some form of wrong-doing is naturally devastating to those who know him or her, but it can also be hurtful to those who regarded this person as a hero. The scandals around the use of steroids and other drugs by athletes can be devastating to their young fans.

Recovery from betrayal isn’t easy, but the work of healing can make us stronger and wiser! As I said earlier, betrayal is a universal experience. When I think of some of my own early experiences of betrayal, I recognize that while they were confusing and distressing, they also pushed me into a more mature understanding of human nature and the hard realities of life.

When I learned that there was no Santa Claus, I was stunned and felt deeply betrayed because my parents made such a big deal about him. After a few years, I discovered that it was human love and care that was the magic of Christmas, and I learned to create that magic for others — including people I would never meet.

Another Christmas betrayal took place just a year or two later. This time, I was the culprit. I accidentally discovered my mother’s hiding place for the presents and told my younger sisters what they would find under the tree. My mother was angry. That year, the thrill of finding the gifts under the tree was hard to find.

Most of us have had painful experiences of betrayal on both sides of the equation. I’ve had my share. The drama and heart-breaks of teen-aged romances and friendships, the hundreds of promises made and broken, the end of a marriage, helping my sons deal with their own feelings of betrayal, the occasional announcements of the loss of fellowship by colleagues who were found guilty of “inappropriate behavior.” Betrayal hurts!

Some of these experiences were like a rap-on-the-knuckles or maybe a slap-on-the-shoulder by a Zen master. Wake up! Pay attention. Don’t live a life based on unquestioned assumptions. Wake up! Look in this mirror, and see the reality of who you are. Not so lovely and clean are you? Don’t sneer and be cynical. We’re all fallible human beings: subject to temptations, poor judgment, and stupidity. You might trade in some of that “holier than thou” attitude for a little compassion.

I’ve learned that while expectations and standards matter a great deal, the reality is that we all sin and fall short — maybe not in the eyes of the Lord, but in the eyes of the people who know us and depend on us. Thomas Moore, the author of a number of books on the soul, says that the lesson of betrayal is that we need to give up our black-and-white understanding of betrayal and develop a “more complex emotional position” about the experience of betrayal. To the victim he says, “Realize that you, too, could betray someone one day because of your passion or plans or because you can’t see any other way.” We too, may one day need to ask for forgiveness.

The realization that we too have betrayed and will betray others doesn’t mean that we should give up our values, ideals, or the right to protect ourselves from hurt. Dr. Beth Hedva warns that falling into a pattern of cynicism will only add to our misery. It erodes our sense of self-trust, and can lead us to give up our most cherished dreams and ideals, which is tantamount to the betrayal of oneself — perhaps the most painful form of betrayal of all. She writes,

“Self-betrayal is the denial of your essential Self as it is expressed through your personal values, gifts, and resources. Spiraling into the abyss of self-betrayal, you feel cut off from yourself, out of touch with who you are, and what matters most to you. You stop listening to yourself and acting on your own behalf.”

Both Moore and Hadva counsel that the work of recovery from betrayal calls for courage and creativity. Rather than turning away from life and relationships, we need to prepare ourselves to enter into life with a fuller understanding of our own humanity and our own potential for both goodness and self-centered acts of betrayal.

As we face the reality of life and our relationships, we must hold fast to our values, speak our truth, and take a stand that upholds our dreams. Hadva says that we begin to heal when we live out our deepest values and dreams for the world, and we use our own unique gift and abilities in service of the community and the world. By taking a path of action and hope, we can develop a renewed sense of strength and purpose. We can acknowledge that betrayal and failure will still be a part of the picture, but we also know that we are not powerless to address hurts and needs that we find. Maintaining our values and hopes gives us the strength to deal with betrayal without destructive anger or becoming cynical about relationships and people — or ourselves.

You might be wondering how this advice would help anyone who feels that they’ve been betrayed by an institution such as a mortgage company that doled out money to unqualified borrowers, or a bank president who misused funds for bonuses and trips, or any of the other people whose greed and — I say it — stupidity have led us to the mess that just keeps on getting bigger by the day.

I don’t think that we’re going to be getting letters of apology from Citi Bank or the managers of Countrywide saying how sorry they are for our losses. I don’t even expect words of apology from my own financial advisor who encouraged me to continue to “stay the course ” — which seems like questionable advice at this moment in time. Who knows, I may thank her in a few years! All I can do at this point is to remember the warnings that every investment carries risk and that I made my own choices. I hope that there is some true accountability somewhere down the road, but holding on to anger and anxiety doesn’t seem to be very useful or healthy. I remind myself that I’m in a better position than many people, and I think about how I can make things better for folks who are struggling to take care of the basics.

I suspect that there are some in the room this morning who have suffered painful and even traumatic betrayals that haunt them still. I hope that if your life includes this painful issue, that you will make the choice to seek healing. My heart and my door is open to you, and while I’m not probably not qualified to provide the kind of professional care that is needed, I can offer to be an ally as you seek that care and begin the journey to healing and wholeness. May we all seek the good and the true in the days to come as we face these difficult times. May we not drink too deeply of the bitter dregs of betrayal.

1 Someone in the Congregation pointed out that often there is a double betrayal. The obvious victim is the person who has suffered directly. But in the case of a betrayal by a person in a professional relationship, the betrayer has also betrayed his or her colleagues.