
Ancient Jewish bath for ritual immersion (“mikveh”), Author Arie Darzi to memorialize the Jewish communities in Spain, Source http://yavan.org.il/pws/gallery!82 (CC BY-SA 3.0 Unported)
WARNING: Graphic Images
“We have been made as the filth of the world, the offscouring of all things…” (1 Cor. 4: 13).
Filth pours out of the wall. It may look like water, cool clear water, but it is filth.
In fact, the entire bathroom is contaminated. God knows when it was last cleaned. The room reeks of the sweat of prior occupants, is covered in a fine white powder from the predator’s own ablutions.
The door cannot be locked; the predator has seen to that.
You take your clothes off preparing to shower, but cannot find a place to lay down the cotton pajamas into which you plan to change. Perhaps the toilet seat will suffice, if the clothes do not touch the floor, do not touch the wall, do not touch the tank.
You stand naked on the throw rug, an old shag which is, also, filthy, and prepare to step into the tub. You grit your teeth, avoid looking at yourself in the small mirror that hangs over the sink. The tub, too, is contaminated. You know this must be done, so you step over the edge, cringing, toes curled under.
In the shower, you scrub your skin till it is raw.
You dread having to use the only towels available, stiff and worn, rough and faded towels. You pull one down onto the floor, in order to be able to step out of the tub. You carefully avoid touching the walls, touching the toilet tank.
You dry yourself awkwardly, as if drying off a stranger, avoid making eye contact with your image in the mirror. Then you dress, step into slippers, gather your clothes and the used towels in a bundle for the hamper, and step over the threshold, out of the room.
You can never really get clean. The bathroom may be contaminated by the predator. But the dirt, the sin, is inside you.
No Escape
“…and though the…young woman cried for help there was no one to rescue her” (Deut. 22: 27).
This is how a victim of sexual abuse feels. We despise ourselves, loathe our bodies, would shed them if we could [1]. This flesh is what he wants. His hands have been all over it, taking possession of what is no longer ours.
Desperation alternates with hopelessness. But there is no sign of rescue and no escape. Continue reading