4 min read
The fictional town of Ambridge and the country folk in Radio 4's soap opera may seem very different from the heimische mishpochas of North West London. But in reality the issues they face - domestic chores, family squabbles, problems at work, falling in and out of love - are not that far removed.
This applies just as much to the storyline that has dominated episodes for the last two years: the appalling abuse that Helen Titchener suffered from her husband Rob. It involved mental denigration, emotional blackmail, physical assault and rape. Helen has just been released from prison for stabbing Rob, but the couple are now locked in conflict over their baby son.
Sadly, this happens in Jewish homes too, and not necessarily in ones where husbands are uncouth or irreligious, but where he is regarded as the pillar of the community or regularly serenades his wife with Eshet Chayil every Friday night.
It is the nature of such situations - and the cover-up in which both perpetrator and victims engage - that when the abuse finally emerges, as it did in Ambridge, relatives and friends are shocked not only by what has occurred, but how it could have happened in such a "respectable" family.
This disbelief frequently exacerbates the problem, as the wife often feels that she cannot tell anyone, fearing no one would believe her. She also wants to avoid the shame that may greet her and any children they have once it is revealed.
Should I warn a woman about a man's violent past?
There are often three time-lags: the first is between the woman being hit periodically and accepting that these are not one-offs but part of a pattern. The second is the gap between thinking it is her own fault for being negligent in some way and realising that the blame is with her husband. And last, she must acknowledge that she is living in an unacceptable situation and summon the courage to leave.
In the case of "Jenny", who had long been attacked, the abuse continued until she fell pregnant and "Paul" hit her in the stomach, potentially injuring the foetus. Then "Jenny" woke up to the fact that if an unborn child did not deserve to be punched, then neither did she. She left the following day while he was at work, obtaining a court order that ensured he never saw his daughter once she was born.
Britain at large was also in denial until recently, taking a painfully long time to realise that such maltreatment occurred in so-called civilised society. The Jewish community was even more reluctant to admit that it happened, thinking that we had a few miscreants who committed 'white-collar' crimes and tax evasion, but nothing physical and certainly not wife-beating.
When Jewish Women's Aid first started in the 1980s, it was greeted with incredulity in some quarters, and blamed for spreading false rumours, instead of being praised for protecting victims. Even those synagogues that did stick up leaflets took time to work out that they needed to be placed, not on the public noticeboard, but in ladies' toilet cubicles where numbers could be noted in private.
The growing awareness of the issue also led to new interpretations of the Ten Commandments and that puzzling line about "burdening the children down to the third and fourth generation with their fathers' guilt". Surely, people ask, it is totally unfair to punish children for the faults of their fathers?
Now there is more understanding that it may mean that children who grow up in violent homes may hate the experience but become conditioned to it and regard it as normal behaviour. Many abusers were abused when they were children and thus the malign influence cascades across the generations.
It is not only the men who are perpetrators, but wives who attack their husbands. However, there is much less public awareness and those husbands do not know where to turn for help. In addition, there is the stigma of admitting that, in those relationships, the so-called "weaker sex" is apparently much stronger than they are. When "Gavin" told me that he was experiencing problems at home, I assumed he was going to say it was to do with the usual problems of either arguments or non-communication. It took him a while to blurt out: "She keeps on hitting me."
After counselling, initially separately and then getting back together, the irony emerged that she was angry that he was not the strong character she wanted him to be and therefore bullied him. His inability to stand up to her enraged her even more and violence became a regular occurrence. Whereas many such husbands would have left their wives, Gavin chose to take a course in self-assertion, and the marriage, although not wonderfully happy, survived.
For rabbis there is not only the pastoral task of helping those in abusive relationships, but moral dilemmas can arise as to what happens next.
I knew that "Bob" had abused his wife, leading to a divorce. He began dating a strong-minded woman, also divorced, who was looking for a permanent partner. From what I could tell about both of them, it seemed a good match. But should I tell her about his past conduct?
It might be that the nature of the new relationship was such that he would not dream of treating her the way he treated his former wife. Would it be wrong of me to prejudice what might be a good second marriage for both of them? Or was it irresponsible to withhold information about a serious character defect that she might only discover once it was too late? People could change, but often they did not do so, and a man who abused one woman was likely to abuse another.
I decided that the greater harm would come from silence. It is not easy telling someone that the person with whom they are besotted and pinning great hopes for the future is not all he seems. It can lead to them either collapsing in floods of tears, distraught at the truth they never suspected, or angrily denying the information and haranguing the messenger for daring to spread such hurtful lies.
In the event, she took it very calmly, and said she was aware he had a past. I felt there was an element of denial in her reaction, as if she reckoned she could change him. Still, I had given her the facts and she had the right as to how to interpret them.
The story of Rob and Helen Titchener traumatised millions of listeners because it was so distressing to witness the increasingly painful descent from happiness to hatefulness. It was a powerful reminder of what can happen in our own backyard and the need to help those equally trapped.
Jonathan Romain is rabbi of Maidenhead Synagogue. Jewish Womens' Aid: www.jwa.org.uk; Free helpline: 0808 801 0500
