Dear UCG, 

If you’ve attended Sunday services over the last few weeks, or read the online bulletin, you may have heard me report on a new practice for our gatherings. After the service has started, we have locked the doors into the sanctuary, and asked a Grusher to stand near the doors to open them and greet any late-comers. This is not to shame anyone for showing up late, nor an attempt to be any less welcoming; rather it is a first effort in a renewed conversation about safety and security here at UCG.

This particular practice of locking the doors started around the time that the Supreme Court overturned Roe v. Wade, and your ministers continued to speak vocally about our opposition to that decision, and as the nation was still freshly mourning the massacre in Uvalde, TX. One Sunday around that time, a person unknown to us rode into the courtyard, walked into the sanctuary, and did a loop before leaving again, without speaking to anyone. No harm was done, but it was unnerving. Even though that person has not returned over the last few months, that experience prompted us to reflect on other common practices for security used by congregations like ours. The UCC in Winter Park locks its doors during services, too. The synagogue on 8th avenue has a police presence outside each week. Both our denomination and the Washington Post have recently tackled the topic. When I worked in Illinois, the staff and ushers had active shooter training and then kept a panic button on a lanyard on them whenever leading worship, that would call police in the case of an emergency. Those panic buttons were never used, it should be noted, and the biggest anxiety the staff had with them was remembering where we’d stored them from week to week.

I was working at that UCC in Hinsdale when my book about faith and sexuality came out in 2016, and it was the first time in my memory that the church and I had become targets for harassment. I anticipated most of the terrible comments on my public facebook page and a few published articles denigrating me and my work, but the emails and phone calls at work took me by surprise. The senior pastor I was working for fielded more than one phone call from folks insisting that he fire me, for being a blaspheming woman, a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Despite all that, I was never really scared; rather I was more annoyed by the folks who couldn’t give my work the benefit of the doubt, and yet demanded that I justify myself to them at length, that I give them my attention.

That harassment was not the reason our leadership team did an active shooter training; that came, I think, after a church shooting in Texas. Neither did I have any reason to believe that the harassment we experienced would escalate, and yet, it was the first time I felt that by speaking freely of my faith commitments, I’d somehow earned a target on my back.

In the written announcements last week, I wrote, “We are bold in declaring our commitments to love and justice in a world where such commitments are not always popular, and sometimes even threatened.”  I didn’t intend to be vague, but I want to be clear now that we have not received any threats of violence. But we have been victimized routinely in some very particular ways. Our “Black Lives Matter” sign is routinely stolen (once a week, usually) or marked with “WLM”; you’ll recall earlier this spring someone stole our “We Say Gay and Trans” sign. Just this week, someone stole the BLM sign again, and pulled down our Pride flag (and then spit on it, it appears from our security video). When we put out a replacement sign, someone different ripped it from the ground the very next night.

These kinds of crimes have happened regularly enough, for long enough, that I am not particularly afraid that they will escalate in severity.  And yet, they are a good reminder that just because we seem to have adapted to navigating the dangers of the pandemic in our gatherings (thanks to the very good and faithful work of the COVID team), it is important for us to consider other issues of safety and security. Our children’s and youth staff regularly go through CPR and first aid training; should other leaders, too?  Would we benefit from having defibrillators on campus as a measure of preparedness, should a member have a cardiac event while here?  Our children and youth regularly have all manner of drills to practice what to do in an unexpected or dangerous situation in school; having a plan, ostensibly, helps them to feel less anxiety and improves outcomes. Should we be exploring such drills to help prepare us for quick responses? Are we certain that the pathways to all the sanctuary exits are clear in the event of a fire?

We are a community that has strived to protect the health and well-being of, and to be a safe space for, our people. We’ve masked for over a year, after being mostly online for just about a year. It’s no one’s favorite practice, but it is worth it to us, to help ensure that we can gather safely.  We have policies and procedures in place to protect children and other vulnerable persons from harm, and even stay away from language in our worship services that has been historically harmful to people. What is new, then, is our desire to look more formally at all our safety and security systems, prompted in some ways by our awareness of the world, but moreover by our desire to be a safe and welcoming, accessible and nurturing place.  

Several UCGers with experience in risk management and public safety met this week with some of the staff to hear our concerns and share some context and local data; Council Exec will then likely consider if a new group needs to be formed to conduct a safety audit or offer some other type of recommendations at their next meeting. If you have experience with this type of work, feel free to volunteer your expertise! And don’t hesitate to reach out if you have further questions or concerns.  We’ll continue this conversation together.  

Grace, Peace, and Love, 

Bromleigh