Speaking Truth to Power

Reading Aaron Lazare’s On Apology has spurred quite a series of posts. It’s such a thought-provoking book, and I simply can’t say enough good things about it. Apology has not typically been a central focus in Unitarian Universalist response to misconduct, but I hope it will be in the future.

Pulling together my various posts on this topic, they are:

• Apologies: Part 1
• Apologies Part 2: the Minister and the MFC
• Apologies Part 3: The Association
• Apologies Part 4: The Congregation

A couple of weeks ago it struck me that my congregation has never apologized for the misconduct. This is in marked contrast to my awareness of the minister and the association. I am keenly aware of the status of apology in both of those cases, and have been for a very long time. The reason the congregation finally came to mind was a combination of reading On Apology and reflecting on it in the context of UU misconduct.

More significant, however, is why this hadn’t occurred to me before. That’s because the church has done so much other good work in this area, that I haven’t felt a need for an apology. They have walked the walk, so perhaps there is no need to talk the talk. The Association, on the other hand, may only have talked the talk.

I’ve only mentioned this fact to a couple of people in my congregation. The risk of talking about it is that someone may interpret this as a request from me or as a necessary next step. I don’t know if that’s the case. If it is, I believe it would be to help the church (as opposed to victims) heal.

Individual Apologies

Over the years, individuals in the congregation have apologized to me for various reasons. All of the apologies have been moving, and many represent ties that bind me to the church now.

The one that struck deepest came after I had spoken about my experience. I’ve only talked twice in public about what I went through. In this case (at a General Assembly years ago), I mentioned how helpful apologies were. To my amazement, a woman from my congregation came up afterwards, grabbed my hands, and with tears pouring out told me how sorry she was. I know this woman well, and she’s not the emotive sort. She’s more of a stalwart humanist UU. To this day, I don’t know what she had to apologize to me about, but I could tell it lifted a huge weight from her heart. For me, even though I didn’t think she owed me one, it was a powerful affirmation that what had happened was not my fault.

Would It Help the Congregation?

Because of being part of apologies like this, I wonder if a congregation’s apologizing would help it? And what of congregations that have not fared as well as mine? Even many years later in a congregation that has healed as much as any, when you talk to older members it’s clear that some still carry shame from those bad days. Usually it’s because the minister duped them into believing that people like me were the problem. It’s painful to realize not just that your minister is untrustworthy, but also that your own judgment of others can be seriously flawed. How can you trust again? What does in mean about congregations and being part of them? Is it all a sham? I know. I had to go through the same learning curve.

I’ve never heard of a UU congregation that’s apologized for misconduct. My bet is not one ever has. But please – prove me wrong. Please write if you know of such and tell the story.

While seeking happiness is a major theme in my life, I hadn’t intended for it to be part of this blog. As much as I’d thought about it (not much), I’d assumed I would blog, and then go off and do what it took to recover from reliving the pain of misconduct.

Well, guess what. That wasn’t working. So, to fold happiness into the blog is primarily a way to keep on blogging about misconduct at all.

My biggest hesitation in doing this was concern about other victims and survivors. I know all too well the sticks that are shaken at victims. Get over it. Move on. Basically, don’t bother me.

And I really, really don’t want this blog to be a stick shaken at victims. It’s all too easy for me to imagine others saying to a victim, “See—she’s over it. Why don’t you just do what she did?” Or worse yet, and actually more likely, a victim might do this to herself. We all have those voices going off in our head, comparing ourselves to others.

When things were at their worst for me, there wasn’t anything much published about happiness, and so I don’t have direct experience of trying to use this as a tool when circumstances are horrific. When I try to imagine, the mind boggles.

I do, remember, though, silver linings in even my darkest days. I particularly recall making fun of the situation with trusted others. There’s an absurd side to misconduct and it’s easy to parody. It’s not something to share beyond the very most trustworthy, but still I do remember those moments as happy and offering much-needed respite.

That’s actually my best guess for victims at the nadir of facing misconduct. There will always be moments of happiness (black humor, a nice walk, a lovely vase of flowers), so just to enjoy them however brief and fleeting. I think it’s essential to honor the pain, to dive into it, really see it for what it is, and emerge for respite as often as necessary and possible.

Much of what keeps me engaged with happiness is the explosive growth in publications about it. For me, to read about happiness is to move in that direction. I don’t buy the set-point theory of personality. That’s the one that posits that a person is basically a certain degree of pessimistic or optimistic, and on average that’s where they will be their whole life.

I was deeply unhappy — with good cause — many years ago. I took that experience, learned from it, and have been moving ever since into places I never dreamed possible. Perhaps the ferocious winds of misconduct blew me out of a set-point?

I have different tools to keep the momentum going, but (being UU) my favorite is reading. And oh my heavens. There has been an onslaught of publications in this area the last few years. It seems a floodgate has opened.

Converging Disciplines

The opening floodgates seem to be a convergence of three areas: neuroscience, psychology and religion (particularly Buddhism). The last is my best window, since I’ve been practicing and reading about Buddhism for years, but I jump into the other two when I can understand them.

My favorites are the highly reputable publications, such as Scientific American and the New York Times, plus blogs. The publications I give wide-berth to are the self-help variety – the overly simplistic, this-is-the-panacea books and now blogs too of this ilk. One must learn how to distinguish blogs.

Here’s a good recent example of the kind of publication I am talking about:

Craig Lambert, “The Science of Happiness: Psychology explores humans at their best.” Harvard Magazine

And here is a favorite blog, vetted by a reputable publisher, in this case O’Reilly:

Mind Hacks

Happy reading.

And now for a complete change of pace….

I like to think I am a sane person (just a garden variety neurotic, as one of my good buddies put it – making me think I must look something like a petunia). Over the years my favorite technique for not plunging full-tilt into despair when dealing with the ugliness of misconduct is astonishingly simple. I focus on happiness.

Good Books to the Rescue

This began in 1998. I’d been a Buddhist for many years, and had been following the Dalai Lama’s doings for a couple of decades. That year I discovered a pre-publication announcement for The Art of Happiness and ordered it on the spot from amazon.com. It was even better than I had hoped. It remains my all-time favorite of the many books by the Dalai Lama, and one of my top five Buddhist books.

Just listen to its first sentence.

“I believe that the very purpose of our life is to seek happiness”

And consider its source.

Next on this new reading list of mine came Destructive Emotions: A Scientific Dialogue with the Dalai Lama. It took me over a year to wade through it. In retrospect I wonder if its taking so long wasn’t actually even more helpful – increasing my opportunities to apply its insights in real life.

Righteous Anger is Still Anger

One those pivotal moments happened in my life when I was walking home after an absolutely dreadful day. I knew I was angry and that I had good cause, but all of a sudden it hit me right between the eyes. The person who was suffering most from this anger was me. It really didn’t matter that it was justified. So right then and there, with no further ado, I just let it go. I did an about-face into happiness.

The same model goes for the kind of anger I’ve experienced over the injustices done by the UUA. In the end, getting angry hurts me most. Not to say there is no place for anger, especially the righteous variety. At times it can be a clean-burning fuel that gets me from Point A to Point B faster than anything. Or it can magically melt away parts of the self-hatred and depression that are so much a part of recovering from abuse.

There are no simple answers. The closest I can get to simple on anger is:

1. Be aware of it when it’s happening. Don’t let it govern you.
2. Be exquisitely careful with what you do with the energy it generates.
3. If there is any doubt, do what you can to let it go.
4. If letting it go sounds best but impossible or close to it, just do what you can. Baby steps. Me – I try to focus on nature at such moments. What does the sky look like? Are there buds? How does the air smell?

Perhaps it seems paradoxical to look at misconduct and happiness side-by-side. But to me it makes perfect sense. And a blog being a blog, hopefully I will have time to convince you of this in upcoming posts. Or perhaps you are already. In either case, I hope you share in this quest for happiness.

At the 2000 General Assembly, Kay Montgomery, Vice President of the Unitarian Universalist Association, apologized to victims and survivors of clergy misconduct. I was in that assembly, and was profoundly moved. It was one of those rare moments when I could literally feel a weight coming off of me. It was so clear to me that she was sincere. And I believed her. Completely.

But something has gone wrong since then. I don’t know what has caused this, but there’s enough evidence that I’m sure this is so. The momentum in her words has disappeared and the direction appears to have been lost.

I could guess as to why. Perhaps there would be some point to that. The better the diagnosis, the more likely one is to treat an illness. But I’m too far removed, and so it would be only that – a guess.

The crux of why I say something has gone wrong is in the final words: “The Association has largely failed the people most hurt by sexual misconduct, the victims and survivors. Other denominations have done better. These brave and bruised people have, more often than not I suspect, been left lonely, confused, afraid, angry and betrayed. Un-ministered to…. I am profoundly sorry. And I pledge that this gap, this failure, will be remedied.” She went on to say, “This past year we experimented with a nascent advocacy program. Inspired by the Panel’s report, we will change and learn and in this untended area, we will bend toward justice.”

For five years after hearing those words I simply trusted, without questioning, that the association was tending to this area. I didn’t expect overnight miracles. Then in the fall of 2005 I became a support person to a current complainant. I was both shocked and dismayed to discover how little progress had been made. Early on, I would tell the complainant how much better things would be now. Mind you, I never told her it would be easy. In my opinion there isn’t any way anyone can make speaking up about abuse easy or painless. Nonetheless I had little doubt that the process had to be better, that “the mission of service” would now reach people like her.

In some ways the process actually had improved markedly. While the advocates Ms. Montgomery had spoken of had been diluted to liaisons, nonetheless this was an enormous improvement. In other ways, however, the process had become, if anything worse. There was less evidence of compassion than had been there before and there was a dangerous inclination to minimize. Most telling of all, the complainant was still not given a copy of the findings.

And yet, I hesitate to say this was a failed or empty apology. I want to give the association a few more years. Is it possible that by 2010 the leadership will get serious about fulfilling their promise of 2000, and maybe even reaffirm their apology to more recent complainants? I think it is possible. Not easy, mind you, but easier than being a complainant.

For now, I want to remember the sincerity I heard in Ms. Montgomery’s voice and the healing I felt when rereading her words. I don’t know what the barriers are that the UUA faces, but I hope and believe that I am not alone in doing what I can to pull these barriers down and truly bend the association towards justice.

I’ve been asked about the physical marks I mentioned yesterday. Sorry. I didn’t mean to be mysterious. They actually aren’t that big a deal other than that they exist at all — my body’s reminders of trauma past. In fact, one I’m ridiculously proud of.

Typically it’s things doctors can spot, while others wouldn’t notice. For example, my dentist asked me recently what serious illness I had had a number of years ago. It beats me what he’s seeing. Actually, it reminds me of reading Antarctic ice samples to tell the history of carbon dioxide in the atmosphere.

The victims of misconduct that I know have all had major weight issues at least in the immediate wake of the misconduct. Most got way too thin, but one I know had the opposite reaction, and became obese. I gather both are common reactions. I’m also glad to say that most of us have healed and our weight is now in normal range (whatever that means in our society — but that’s a different issue).

My most apparent change (and the one I’m proud of, though I have no right to be) is that my hair changed color. The year after filing the complaint it looked as if I had a bad hair dye job growing out, though I never dyed my hair — ever. But then it emerged this lovely silver color (“prematurely gray”), which was much nicer than my original color. I wouldn’t recommend this as a beauty tip, though. Forget it.

Personally I think happiness is the most attractive. I hope one day to look like the Dalai Lama (my beauty role model?), but have a long way to go. And I’ll never look good in maroon, let alone maroon and gold.

I’m getting feedback that it’s a bit difficult to reach me. I know and I wish it could be otherwise. My basic reason is fear. Specifically it’s fear of spam and retribution – not a pretty combination.

Unfortunately these are realistic fears for someone like me. For example, several inflammatory mailings about me were sent to much of my congregation back in the year that we all agree was the worst in our history. I’ve always thought that adage “Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me” was crazy. The cruel words from that era hurt to the core. They were the worst kind of character assassination, and they came from people I had never done anything to. What I had done was to file a complaint that had nothing to do with them. Their cruelty left me unable to eat or sleep for long periods of time, and gave me physical marks I will have for the rest of my life.

When I met another complainant a few years ago, it was eerie how similar her story was. She too couldn’t eat or sleep. She said she thought of herself as “the walking dead.” She talked about how she would be walking down the sidewalk when other UUs would see her, point fingers at her, whisper to each other and even laugh. She won her case in court. And she is no longer UU.

Actually such malice is just another form of silencing. And it’s very effective. I have no wish to have my reputation dragged through the mud again. On the other hand, I think its important to share what I know so it’s less likely that others will have to go through the same hell. Thus to be able to blog feels like a miracle to me. It gives my so frequently arrested voice an arena to speak in. And so far, it feels relatively safe.

To remain safe, I’ve been quite cautious. I have set the comments on Blogger’s most restrictive setting (short of turning them off altogether). If any of you more familiar with Blogger have advice on how best to set commenting, I’d appreciate it.

I thought I’d made it possible to find my email address, but apparently I haven’t. If you are having trouble using the comments or would prefer to email me, my address is uugrrl at mac dot com. I will, by the way, take this down if I start being harassed of spammed. But here’s hoping that those of you who wish in good faith to reach me find this, and that all the nasty spammers don’t.

Marie Fortune has an illuminating skit she does with survivors of clergy misconduct. She sits in a chair and says the sort of things victims of clergy abuse say. “He ruined my life.” “They didn’t believe me.” Etc. With each statement someone throws a cloth over her, at first muffling her and then making her impossible to hear. Then the cloths gradually come off with each act of justice and mercy. “It’s a travesty that this happened to you.” “What can we do to help?” And so on.

For me, the single act that would have made the most difference – cut fastest through those layers – would have been the abusive minister apologizing sincerely to me. In fact, I have no doubt it would still help today, many years later. And so, I believe, apology should play a central role in responding to clergy misconduct. It’s important enough that I think it needs to be written into the policies and procedures for addressing misconduct.

Not surprisingly the issue of sexual abuse, particularly clergy misconduct, is mentioned with some frequency in Aaron Lazare’s On Apology. Lazare particularly stresses the need such victims have for an apology to validate them and affirm that what happened was not their fault. I agree. That’s critical. But in the cases I know of, the perpetrators have gone to great lengths to do the exact opposite. These abusive ministers, even though there is no question that they have violated their code of conduct multiple times, tried to portray themselves as the victims (in essence saying the people they abused deserved it). Unfortunately, this strategy often worked for them. A significant number of people, including various people in leadership, believed them. A particularly troubling dynamic is that some other ministers (incorrectly) identified with them.

To me what this says is that a negotiated apology, in the absence of a sincere, self-motivated one, should be a, if not the, pivotal part of the process of an adjudicating body like the UUA’s Ministerial Fellowship Committee (MFC). In such instances, the MFC can’t simply require an apology. They need to make sure it is to the victims (not the MFC or someone else) and that it is real — that the minister as clearly and as often as is needed accepts the responsibility, and that they include adequate reparations. The MFC also needs to structure in consequences if minister does not apologize adequately. In my experience, a lack of remorse in a minister is even more disturbing than the original abusive behavior. What kind of minister isn’t sorry for causing grave damage?

Unlike victims, credentialing bodies like the MFC are in a position to force abusive ministers to prove themselves. They can call the question. It’s easy for a minister to wiggle out of an apology when a victim asks for it. Not so if the MFC does. Not only can the MFC require an apology to the victims, they can monitor it – using it as a tool to measure whether or not the perpetrator really is fit to remain a minister.

Another compelling reason to structure apologies into the MFC process is that they can help with false accusations as well. One of the most moving stories in On Apology (pages 237-8) is of Steven Cook, who accused Cardinal Joseph Bernadin of sexually abusing him. “The cardinal denied the charges while making it clear how humiliated, hurt, and deeply wounded he felt. After … Mr. Cook dropped the charges, the cardinal arranged a meeting with Cook…. Cook then apologized for the embarrassment and hurt he had caused. The cardinal found the apology ‘simple, direct, and deeply moving.’ He gave a Bible and a chalice to Cook, who received these objects with tears in his eyes. The cardinal later commented, ‘Never in my 43 years as a priest have I witnessed a more profound reconciliation.’”

One last reason to emphasize apology is that unlike other forms of justice such as monetary damages or defellowshipping, it can easily be seen as a religious act in itself.