Speaking Truth to Power

Have you heard of Brazen Careerist: The New Rules for Success? I hadn’t until today. But I just ran across a book review and it mentioned some of Penelope Trunk’s advice: “They say report sexual harassment. I say don’t.”

Reading this was one of those moments for me – a domino effect happening in my head. It boils down to….

If you are a victim of UU clergy misconduct, don’t report it.

Of course, there’s more nuance than that, and a ton of information behind it. It’s not as if I’m saying this out of the blue. Hopefully, you’ve gotten a sense of that from reading this blog. If you have, you know I wouldn’t have said this six months ago. I’ve evolved to this point after interacting with both recent victims of UU misconduct and some of the people who have the power to change the way it’s handled. If you’ve read this blog, you also know I’m not casting blame.

I’m simply saying, don’t do it. “They say report. I say don’t.” I gather her premise is it’s not smart. That’s certainly my premise. There is a trail of tears, which, like the original trail, seems to matter to very few. But it matters to me, and it should matter to you if you are a victim. Chances are you’ve gone through hell. Don’t make it worse.

Think…. Whose problem is a misconducting UU minister really? The MFC’s? You bet. The UUMA’s? Absolutely. The UUA’s. Of course. The minister’s church? No question. The victim’s? Absolutely not.

To be clear, by “don’t report it,” I mostly mean don’t file a formal complaint. I don’t mean you shouldn’t tell anyone. It’s even okay in my opinion to tell the UUA, as long as you make it clear they do not have your permission to share your name or to consider you a complainant. Just do what feels safest. And be very careful. One good option is contacting Marie Fortune’s Institute. [8/18 update: the Institute can no longer assist individuals. Please see the Postscript for more information.]

If you’re like other victim/survivors I know, you’re worried the minister is going to hurt others the same way s/he hurt you. That was the biggest hook for me. And it’s a very real issue. People will tell you that if you don’t say something, then the powers-that-be can’t do anything. There’s merit to this argument. What it overlooks is that if you do say something, the powers-that-be still won’t do anything to take care of the real problem. Not now. In the past they tried to do the right thing, and came closer to succeeding. Instead as things currently stand, they will put you through an ill-defined and anything-but-transparent process and the case will appear to you to go into a black hole. To the best of my knowledge, it’s a universally horrific ordeal. You will be treated as if you are the problem, and your life (which is probably already quite difficult) will be made much more difficult by the UUA. In the end, you won’t even know if or when it’s resolved.

There are also the twin seductresses of ministry and justice. It’s quite normal to assume that, since this is a religious association and grievous damage has been done to you in its name, the response to you will be ministerial in some measure. Chances are that some of the individuals actually will treat you in a ministerial fashion. But it’s not part of the process and in the end doesn’t begin to balance out the harm done. In fact, it can be confusing. If X is ministerial toward you, but still lets Y happen, what does that mean about you, ministry, etc., etc. It’s a rocky course for a person whose trust in ministry has already been broken.

As for justice, clergy misconduct is not generally understood as a justice issue by the UUA. Its process therefore has nothing to do with it. At best, you will end up feeling cynical about UUA leaders. They talk wonderful justice talk, but in this area where you know what they could do, they fail to walk their talk.

What you are responsible for is your own life. I know it can be very hard – not unlike ending a marriage. I’ve had to walk away from church and faith at times, sometimes believing and accepting that it was forever. I’d invested much of my life into my church and the UUA, and it was anything but easy. But it was the smart thing to do.

One day, perhaps soon, there may come a time when it’s all right to report clergy misconduct. But the UUA has a long way to go. They’ve lost a lot of ground in recent years. Just remember, though… that’s not my problem and it’s not yours either. Take good care of yourself. Read smart books, find another church, love those who love you, blog, play, write bad poetry, sing bawdy songs, climb Mt. Everest, whatever. Sometimes a life well lived is simply the best.

The last few weeks I’ve noticed that some of the main triggers for me – things that send me back to the terrible memories associated with filing a complaint of misconduct – are, of all things, hymns. It’s not the melody; it’s the words and who wrote them. I yearn to be part of not just a whole and healthy church, but a whole and healthy faith – and I’ve been around long enough that I know (either directly or indirectly) quite a number of the authors in both of our hymn books.

Today it was a beautiful piece by Shelley Jackson Dunham. And today it was a good memory, though as is usually the case, good means bittersweet.

I strongly associate Shelley with The Mountain. When I think of The Mountain, I remember two things. The first is my initial visit there. It was maybe five years after the year from hell. My family basically dragged me there. I didn’t want to go, but I love my family and I went. I figured it would be beautiful, and it was. But what I hadn’t in my wildest dreams imagined was that I would feel accepted – by Unitarian Universalists. That was a time at my church when I wasn’t as totally marginalized as I had been, but I wasn’t all that accepted either. I was in some grey area, and grey is how it felt.

One of the reasons I hadn’t wanted to go was figuring that the Mountain staff would know about what had happened, know about me, and accidentally-on-purpose shun me. That was the way things worked back then. Or maybe they wouldn’t know about my role, but I wouldn’t matter to them. As much as I thought about – which wasn’t a lot.

To my amazement, they were to a person kind, attentive and appropriate with everyone in my family, including me. Just to be that way with my family speaks volumes. We’re probably a typical UU family – too smart for our own good, highly opinionated, the younger ones edgy, the older ones sometimes cantankerous, scattered around the country, and many of us no longer UU. Larry Wheeler, in particular, took us all in with great good humor and grace.

The second memory that came to me in that instant of singing Shelley’s hymn was when I returned to The Mountain several years later for Leadership School. If you’re going to get anything out of Leadership School, you have to be who you are. I still didn’t know if The Mountain staff knew I was an infamous complainant, and as luck would have it, one of them, Robert E., was my small group leader.

I’m not a swearing sort, but as we were sent on our way to small group, I thought, “Oh s#*$&, I’m going to have to talk about the misconduct – with Robert E. The jig is up. Now the staff will know.” I couldn’t have been more wrong. For one thing, as I found out the last hour of that week-long amazing experience, Helen Bishop, the head of the school, knew about my history and had alerted the whole staff before any of us students ever arrived.

And everyone, Robert E., Helen and an amazing cast of others, were accepting of me. If you know Helen, you know accepting doesn’t mean molly-coddling. There were moments that week when I thought I’d never stop crying – and, really, I don’t cry that much about this stuff. But not that week. Especially towards the end. But everyone was fine with that. Some knew. Those who had to know did, and that was good. Some didn’t, and that was good too.

I’m particularly grateful not everyone knew, because that meant acceptance for who I really am. While I was a victim of misconduct, I struggle to minimize that reality as part of my identity. But I guess it will always be pretty close to the surface, if even hymns evoke it.

I think I found two more tools today in my quest for letting go of anger over the injustices of clergy misconduct. The first came over lunch today, with one of the officers of our church. We’re lucky to have this woman on the Board. She’s knowledgeable, kind, hard-working and very experienced with the UUA. She wasn’t around during our worst years, yet she doesn’t say the thing many do: “I wasn’t there, so I can’t understand.” Instead, when it’s needed she jumps right in and tries to understand – and I think she does.

As our conversation unfolded, we both agreed strongly that it’s likely that one of the core problems with the UUA leadership right now is not understanding that a few of their colleagues have serious personality disorders. We sympathize with them for not getting this. Neither of us has a background in psychology. I’ve had to learn the hard way how different an abusive personality is. I didn’t understand what was going on nearly as quickly as the mental health professionals did. I was used to a model of people not being perfect, but basically decent. I was projecting myself on them. And that’s what we think many UU leaders are doing with clergy who have abused congregants. They think it was just a misstep – that the accused minister is basically decent. They project themselves on to their colleagues. Most of the time this would probably be just fine. But not with clergy who have sexually abused others and never repented it.

This is a thought I’ve had a lot in recent months, and generally as happened today, others agree. The difference is that today I realized I could recall this piece as a way to calm down and let go. It doesn’t matter that I’m not certain that’s what’s going on. It’s a reasonable hypothesis, gives me sympathy for them, and helps me let go.

The second came on the heels of this validation. Again I’ve known for a while that the anger is in fact a mask covering fear – that it’s a biologic response having to do with self-preservation. What I was missing is that the fear is well founded. My fear is that UUA leadership will harshly mistreat me again. This is, in fact, extremely likely.

I had a fifth grade teacher who called the adrenalin of fear “fight or flight juice.” As I keep saying – I want to walk away. That’s the flight. But things keep tugging me back – even as directly as people asking me to talk to UUA leaders – when I don’t want to fight. I don’t want the anger.

So here’s the second tool. I don’t have to engage any more with UUA leaders. If they come and ask respectfully, then talking with them probably would be worth the cost of the pain of remembering all of the degradation, isolation, and so forth. But that’s unlikely to happen and that’s okay. There’s the key; I’m okay with that. It’s not revenge. It’s not acceptance. It’s just letting go.

Lately I keep running into articles and posts about forgiveness. For the most part they have to do with minor grievances and petty annoyances – certainly nothing as serious as abuse. Nevertheless, I’ve found these writings helpful. If nothing else, they offer a different way to frame my response – which is a respite.

It’s a bit ironic, because back in the worst days, people would tell me in very black and white terms that either I must or I must not forgive the offending minister. There seemed to be no middle ground. Those who said I mustn’t believed he had to apologize first. Typically these were the people who supported and cared about victims. If I had to pick a side (if it really was so black and white), I would definitely pick theirs. Those who said I must forgive him invariably minimized the damage done, and had little or no understanding of possible misinterpretations. Essentially it made their lives easier.

Gradually I came to see that a personal, quiet forgiveness was possible. If you were to ask me if I forgave him and if I trusted you to understand, I would say yes, but that didn’t mean I thought he was fit for ministry – that it was more like letting go.

Now, as I read these snippets on forgiveness, once again, I wonder what place it has in the picture? If I were to tell those who have recently hurt victims of clergy misconduct (including me) that I forgave them, they would think me presumptuous. As best I can tell, they don’t think they’ve done anything wrong. Since I don’t wish to appear (much less to be) presumptuous, this has the net effect, once again, of silencing me. So how do I do forgive now? I don’t have the answer yet. The closest I can come is letting go of the anger I feel as often as needed. I keep having to drag out that thing I learned a number of years ago. It doesn’t matter if the anger is righteous. I’m still the one most hurt by it.

On days like today – a Sunday, when church is more a part of my life – it seems as if I have to let go dozens of time. I see the author of a hymn I’m singing, recognize the name, and wonder, where is he on this issue now? I have to let go. Talk of GA is all around me, and I don’t feel safe going. I have to let go. I attend a meeting where talk of the MFC is central, and I have to let go. That was just today.

It’s interesting. The ones whose faces I know I have an easier time forgiving. The ones who are just names and harsh written words, I have to give them a pretend face. And then forgive. And let go.

The most helpful piece of all I ran into was about the Dalai Lama. “He also made a distinction between forgiveness and forgetting. Actual forgiveness means that you no longer keep any feeling of revenge. ‘Forgiveness does not mean you accept whatever has been done.’”

I don’t accept what has been done. But I certainly have no desire for revenge. I guess, therefore, I am in some measure succeeding at forgiveness. Now I just have to succeed at sleep. That too is much more possible without anger.

The trees and flowers are starting to recover from a nasty cold snap in our part of the world, and we had a lovely Flower Communion, honoring the difficulties of the past few weeks. To my amazement, the minister in some of her words honored this very blog. Typing this, I start to cry. It was so unexpected, and even though it was only for a second and something almost the entire congregation missed, that’s clearly what it was.

She said I ministered with this work. Can you believe it? I hardly can. These last few weeks I have withdrawn, struggling with how to deal with my anger over the way victims of UU clergy misconduct, including me, have been treated recently by those with power

The best solution seemed to be to walk away. Truly, that may still be the best solution. I don’t know. But for the first time since the worst blow of recent weeks, I am trying to be open to other possibilities.

I don’t know what that might look like. So let me talk instead about what I think the most serious problem is at the moment. I believe it is that the UUA’s leadership is profoundly ignorant about clergy misconduct.

I say profoundly because I observe that those who take the lead in this arena don’t realize just how little they understand. I don’t mean to be insulting. It’s just that the more I know of what’s happening at 25 Beacon St., the more obvious this is to me. And it’s more serious than simple ignorance. They not only make poor decisions and do great damage in the way they interact with victims, they have the potential to misinform others in leadership who are simply ignorant. I think, for example, of our moderator. As far as I know she doesn’t know much about misconduct and would be the first to tell you that. What is the MFC telling her? I wonder.

Victims of clergy misconduct are every bit as much the UUA as “they” are. In fact, I expect some of “them” are victims of sexual abuse, if not clergy misconduct. An even uglier possibility is that there are still a few perpetrators or those who have colluded with perpetrators in our leadership.

Every way I look at it I see people who haven’t and don’t deal well with clergy misconduct running the show. Of course, very few people do since there aren’t good mechanisms in place. It’s a bleak no-man’s land out there when it comes to recovering from misconduct. Unfortunately, “they” are the ones who have the power to change this landscape at the associational level. But how can they do it right if they repeatedly hurt those who know first-hand about the harm done? I can assure you I’m not eager to talk after having been hurt one too many times. And I know others who feel the same way. I suspect the fastest and easiest way out of this nasty mess is for them to quite simply say that they are sorry for the mistakes they have made. And to mean it. It comes back to apology.

I don’t know much about alcoholism and AA, but I suspect it’s like that. The first step is to accept the ugly truth. I’m almost certain it’s not what “they” fear – and there’s a good chance it’s not as bad as they fear. But by trying to blockade it, whatever the reasons and however they do it, “they” make it much worse.

I keep putting this third person talk in quotes because I’m so sad about the polarization that has happened. It should not be “us” the victims vs. “them” the leadership. I think we have the same goal – a healthy, flourishing ministry. But unfortunately that’s the framework “they” have set up. By undermining people like me, they divide us even further. Everyone loses, but our faith and the credibility of Unitarian Universalism lose most of all.

Dan Harper recently blogged about conflict and the Alban Institute. (See A Word About Conflict.) This brings up a host of difficult memories for me. Because of the Alban Institute model, back in our worst days my congregation was told we had a Level 5 conflict. We were also told that Level 6 was war.

In retrospect, many in our congregation came to the conclusion that it was a misdiagnosis, doing more damage than good. It wasn’t that we didn’t have conflict. We did. And it wasn’t that the Alban Institute model is bad. I expect it’s very helpful when conflict really is the issue. It was more like telling someone with stomach cancer that the problem is the pain in his back. The “experts” missed the real problem. It was abuse of power.

Perhaps the Alban Institute has improved their model, or perhaps it was applied incorrectly with our congregation. I don’t know. But I do know that when used with us, the model not only sidestepped the whole issue of clergy misconduct, it presumed relatively equal power.

In the end, what turned us around was having grief counselors. They came and talked with anyone in the congregation who wanted to talk to them. They put in hundreds of hours all told.

There was, as it turned out, tremendous pain experienced by many people, and that was what was behind the anger and seeming conflict. It wasn’t just the victims that experienced this pain, and the pain wasn’t all the same. I suppose if there was a recurring theme it was a loss of innocence — coming to terms with learning that someone once deeply trusted was, in fact, not what he seemed. This in turn meant coming to terms with one’s own imperfect judgment, and struggling to learn how to trust again. But we did it, and I hope others have learned from us.

“Leading a life of spiritual integrity is not easy.”

Today’s was one of those sermons that cut to the bone. Perhaps it was because it was based in the Beatitudes. Or perhaps it’s because it was delivered from the heart, with great depth of spirit and thought. No matter what, it was the kind of Sunday that lets me know, despite it all, church is one of the three best things in my life.

Two of the takeaways….

First, the minister talked of the mental balance sheet he’d kept in a previous religious life. Bingo. That’s what I’m doing all the time when I consider UU clergy misconduct and how poorly our denomination handles it. I wish I could escape the two-dimensional viewpoint. The stakes are very high for me. Fortunately, unlike many others who have suffered from misconduct, the positive balance is significant. But that’s based on the local level. When the national level is weighed in, it’s not so good.

Second, the Beatitudes themselves offer solace. Simply the beauty of the words and the soul behind them might be enough. But when the minister spoke of mercy and forgiveness, it occurred to me perhaps this is the dimension beyond my balance sheet perspective? People often ask me if I’ve forgiven the perpetrator in my case. I usually find this question offensive, but more than that, it’s puzzling. I’m not sure what they mean. If they asked instead if I forgave those who bungled the case, it would be so much easier to answer. The answer is basically yes. I have to work at it – particularly of late, when the same mistakes are being repeated. But because I think the errors are caused more by ignorance than malice, even now it’s possible to forgive. Not easy. But possible. I suppose if I couldn’t, I wouldn’t be able to remain UU.

“We are face to face with our destiny, and we must meet it with a high and resolute courage. For us is the life of action, of strenuous performance of duty; let us live in the harness, striving mightily; let us rather run the risk of wearing out than rusting out.”

– Theodore Roosevelt

I subscribe to the most delightful daily quote service — Creative Idleness by Martha Carrer Cruz Gabriel, a Brazilian artist. This was today’s quote, and it seemed related to where my thoughts have been about this blog.

I am wearing out, but I refuse to rust out. I was going at the blog full-speed, hope high, when I was blind-sided by an email from a UU minister. I had trusted this minister and told them about myself and my blog. It’s hard to describe this email they sent. The best I can come up with is mean-spirited and inaccurate, attacking me because of the blog. If there were an antonym for ministry, that would be the best descriptor. I expect it came from fear, which devolved to anger. I don’t think this person meant to be as hurtful as they were. I think they don’t understand their power, especially with people like me.

Since that day (maybe six weeks ago), it has been much harder to write the blog. It’s the only thing like it I’ve received, and I’ve gotten quite a bit of positive feedback, often from UU ministers. So I ask myself why has this had such an impact on me?

The answer is still not entirely clear to me, but I can tell you pieces. The biggest one I suspect is that it’s a shortcut back to the bad-old-days. For me the worst wasn’t what I filed the complaint about. It was the aftermath — the way the minister reacted and the support he received, particularly from congregants and (here’s the key piece) other ministers.

In my eyes, ministers lined up against me. Rank by rank they stood with whom? At that time, I didn’t have any UU minister willing to stand with me, even though many knew that what he had done was wrong. He even had a Good Offices person — official ministerial support — or so it looked to me. About the best I had was silence, and silence is typically a vote in favor of a perpetrator.

Years later I found out that in fact some UU ministers were telling him that what he had done was wrong and that he should resign. But I didn’t know that at the time. They certainly weren’t telling me.

Fast forward to 2007. The minister who attacked me said they forwarded this hurtful email to various UU leaders. They didn’t copy me when they did this, so I’m unclear exactly whom they sent it to and what else they might have said. Only one of these recipients has reached out to me, and that was when I requested it.

So, to oversimplify, the crux is that I experience this as revictimization. I don’t use this word lightly. Far from it. And to be clear, it’s like dipping my hand back into old experiences. It’s nowhere near as bad as it once was. I could, and will in time, reach out and heal from this particular blow. I even know whom I will go to, my minister being one.

But what about the next time? As long as I write this blog, with a lack of good leadership around ministerial misconduct in the highest UU echelons, won’t it always be the same for me? I’m not about being a victim. I aim to strive mightily, but constructively. I’m not interested in using my energy to fight. If my help is wanted, I’m there — willing to give it my best. If I get slapped, the best choice is not to turn the other cheek. Nor is it to fight back. It’s to walk away, which maybe is pretty close to turning the other cheek. There are plenty of other constructive things I can and will do.

The way the UUA is handling misconduct is wrong. Period. I’m glad to help untangle what the problems really are, and am very sympathetic with the extremely difficult roadblocks the leadership faces. But if there is one thing I learned as a victim of misconduct, it’s to trust my gut, and get away if that’s the best option. I’m not willing to do this work at the expense of respect and right relations.

So that’s the worst of it. Other pieces have to do with the reality that this is ultimately not my problem. It is, of course, the UUA’s. And there is good news on this front. I’ve heard that the Board has requested that Rev. Fred Muir attend their next meeting. I don’t know in what capacity, but I have no doubt if the Board is willing to hear what he has to say, it will help — maybe even set things back on a good path.

Also, I’ve heard of a local UU ministers’ chapter that is working on these issues. That may only be local (and not even in my locale), but still it is heartening for me to hear.

As another former victim put it to me, we do seem to have a network growing. A network is much more needed than my particular voice. It’s UUs living our seventh principle. I will take that any day over feeling safe in writing this blog.

For those interested in Buddhism or sexual ethics, this essay by Thich Nhat Hanh is well worth the read. It’s different from what I usually see on the subject. While Thich Nhat Hanh has long been one of my heroes (a key figure in my 20 or so years of Buddhist practice), I didn’t find his writings particularly helpful in the immediate wake of misconduct. But now, the misconduct is more distant and it’s helpful to happen upon this.

Here are some sections that seem particularly insightful to me.

“‘Responsibility’ is the key word in the Third Precept. In a community of practice, if there is no sexual misconduct, if the community practices this precept well, there will be stability and peace. This precept should be practiced by everyone…. If you don’t practice this precept, you may become irresponsible and create trouble in the community at large. We have all seen this. If a teacher cannot refrain from sleeping with one of his or her students, he or she will destroy everything, possibly for several generations.

Amen to that.

“Adults who were molested as children continue to suffer very much. Everything they think, do, and say bears the mark of that wound. They want to transform themselves and heal their wound, and the best way to do this is to observe the Third Precept. Because of their own experience, they can say, ‘As a victim of sexual abuse, I undertake to protect all children and adults from sexual abuse.’”

I once read of a Zen survivor of abuse who made the abuse her koan. It seemed a perfect fit to me. Perhaps this is why I still care about this subject so many years later.

“We have to restore the meaning of the word ‘love.’ We have been using it in a careless way. When we say, “I love hamburgers,” we are not talking about love. We are talking about our appetite, our desire for hamburgers…. Love is maitri, the capacity to bring joy and happiness, and karuna, the capacity to transform pain and suffering. This kind of love can only be good for people.”

This quote touches and helps heal what can be one of the most profound hurts of sexual misconduct — the abuse of the word love. It’s deeply confusing to have an abusive mininster tell you that s/he loves you. It both does and doesn’t feel like love. And this makes sense. The victim is more like a hamburger.