To Nourish a Viper in One’s Bosom

There is an old fable from Aesop called The Farmer and the Viper. A farmer finds a snake frozen in the snow. It looks weak. Helpless. Harmless. So the farmer takes pity on the creature. He presses it against his chest to warm it back to life.

The viper revives. Then immediately bites him. The farmer dies. Dead. End of story.

The moral is brutal. Kindness alone does not make dangerous things safe.

Some things do not become harmless because they are loved, defended, protected, platformed, rehabilitated, or given another chance. Some vipers simply recover their strength, then bite the hand holding them. This is the part many institutions refuse to confront.

In my experience, church safeguarding repeatedly fails because institutions keep trying to warm vipers.

They confuse empathy with discernment, compassion with wisdom, and kindness with safety. The result is that dangerous behaviour is tolerated far longer than it should be.

The abusive priest is “wounded.” The manipulative leader is “under pressure.” Boundary violations become “misunderstandings.” Whistleblowers are “divisive.” Survivors are “angry.” Safeguarding concerns become “gossip.”

The language softens long before the behaviour changes.

Soon the institution becomes more concerned with appearing compassionate than protecting vulnerable people. This is suicidal empathy: the compulsive need to appear compassionate, forgiving, and gracious even when that misplaced grace actively enables harm and exposes other people to danger.

Predators thrive in these environments because they often know how to imitate vulnerability more effectively than healthy people know how to recognise manipulation. They cry publicly, repent theatrically, quote scripture, and frame accountability as persecution. Churches fall for it constantly because once someone becomes charismatic enough, useful enough, spiritually admired enough, or financially valuable enough, people stop responding to evidence and start responding to attachment.

So the Church keeps warming the viper. Defending it. Platforming it. Shielding it from scrutiny.

Then acting shocked when the snake finally sinks its teeth in.

But the real tragedy is not that the viper behaved like a viper.

The tragedy is that people watched the warning signs unfold in real time and still chose emotional comfort over reality. They mistook denial for compassion. Avoidance for grace. Cowardice for mercy.

And while the institution was busy protecting its self-image as “kind,” people paid the price.

~ Michelle Burns

Guarding the Flock

Writing this blog takes time, care, and a lot of tea. If it’s been helpful to you, you’re very welcome to buy me a cuppa as a small way of supporting it. No pressure at all – I’m just glad you’re here - Michelle