9/5 Alyssa E

The text below was read aloud to the First Unitarian Church of Portland’s Board of Trustees and Executive Team on Thursday, September 5, 2024.

I have a story to share about Hannah Ordaglia, with her blessing.

On every Sunday in July, congregants dressed in white offered flyers to people entering the church. On July 21, Hannah was at the side door. An usher was there as well. On previous Sundays, the same usher had reacted to us with rude remarks and intimidating body language. On the 21st, he looked right at Hannah and then backed into her, knocking her off balance and forcing her to stumble out of his way. She kept her cool and even tried to speak cordially with him. He did not apologize.

Hannah reported it to another usher and then followed up with an email to the Executive Team. She received no response. On July 28, she asked Rev. Tom, who said he hadn’t replied because he didn’t know what the “outcome” would be. Hannah said she still would have appreciated an acknowledgment. Rev. Tom said he understood.

But, instead of following up, it seems that the Executive Team was busy dealing with a different complaint: from the ushers, who were mad about us. On August 1, the Executive Team’s new protest ban included “Blocking our entry doors, or making it difficult for ushers and greeters to welcome people…”

We were shocked. We had been careful not to get in the way, and to be friendly and respectful with everyone. But, the usher who assaulted Hannah seemed to perceive that she was in his way—to the point that he felt justified in pushing her.

It seemed like the Executive Team was validating the usher’s perception while leaving Hannah in the dark about whether her safety mattered much to anyone.

The next day, we met with Rev. Alison, [Board member], and [Board member]. We said we were concerned that they were policing our behavior, instead of addressing the verbal and physical abuse enacted on us, as dissenters. Rev. Alison said she knew about Hannah’s report, and there was already an “investigation” with “witnesses”... which didn’t make sense because Hannah’s assault wasn’t witnessed by other congregants. Hannah tried to explain, again, how hurt she was by the lack of communication. But, Rev. Alison interrupted more than once, to correct Hannah and to defend herself. Hannah could not stop crying. She excused herself from the meeting.

To this day, no minister or Board member has ever followed up with her.

Rev. Alison, on 8/25, you told the congregation about “saying yes to the call of healing.” Danielle even praised you for it on 9/1. I’m confused. A young woman left your office crying because of how you handled her report of physical assault by one of your ushers, and you never followed up. That was the most obvious, vulnerable display of a need for healing that I’ve seen all summer. And you missed it.

To me, “answering the call of healing” means that you care for everyone you serve, including the people who you don’t like. It means responding to criticism with curiosity, as an opportunity to understand the unmet needs of your staff or congregants. It means reckoning with the fact that staff are leaving this church and saying it’s because of your choices. It means saying you’re sorry, and skipping the excuses even though there’s someone else you could blame. It means putting your responsibilities ahead of your emotional reactions to a difficult job.

It means using the pulpit to take the lead on de-escalation… not to perpetuate a dishonest smear campaign about congregants who have been hurt by you repeatedly and yet still think that there’s something here worth fighting for.

I hurt for Hannah, who probably will come to “Homecoming Sunday” unsure whether the man who assaulted her is remorseful, vengeful, or uninformed of his wrongdoing. I hurt for all the congregants who are so disillusioned that they don’t come anymore—and I would estimate at least 70 of them. I hurt for the staff who resigned after years or decades and barely received a nod from you. I hurt for myself, too, but I’m tired of making myself vulnerable only to be disregarded or humiliated later.

I can see that you’re invested in healing the congregants who have unwavering faith in your leadership. Honestly, I wish I were still naive enough to be one of them.