FB Reflection: Resistance!

Good Monday morning, comrades who struggle for truth, and justice, and to stay on The Way.

I've been thinking of ways that I can be part of the Great Resistance we're going to need to get through the next 2-4 years (two years to flip at least one House of Congress in the midterms, four years to flip the White House).

Not all of us can be like Nancy Pelosi and stand up and point our finger at The Oppressor in a room full of His Men (see that famous picture posted below), but we can do what she did and take a picture he posted because he thought he was making fun of her and turn it around as a picture of the triumph and strength of The Good when it stands up to The Evil.

The first is that I am going to work really hard at being kind to myself so my first impulse will be to be kind to others.

That's a slightly different slant from The Prayer of St. Francis. I know this is going to sound like heresy to some, but I think there is a slight flaw in that most beloved prayer.

See? I don't think you can give away what you don't have. You can't sow love in the face of hatred if you don't love yourself. You can't sow faith if your mind and heart are filled with doubt.

You can't sow kindness if you are not, first, kind to yourself.

At least, I can't. If you can, well, you're a much better person than I, which is not hard to imagine.

So, yes, when I see someone with a Red MAGA Hat, I will take a deep breath, smile, and say, "Good morning."

But, I can not do that unless I am, gracious and kind to myself.

That does not mean, however, that I am not ready to protest and march and perform acts of civil disobedience and go to jail. It does mean that I am not willing to surrender my basic humanity to the representation of a force for cruelty and evil.

What's that old saying? Ah yes, "Smile. It makes some people wonder what you're up to."

Think of it: A smile as an act of subversion. Makes it easier to smile, doesn't it?

So yes, I will be kind to myself so that I can be kind to others. I think self-kindness can be a superpower when you - and the other people to whom you are kind - need to rise up and face the hatred that will be coming our way.

Or, the hatred coming the way of people we love.

And, make no mistake. It is coming. In fact, in some places, it is already here. Some people of color, some Hispanics, some LGBTQ+ people, including some adolescents, are getting text messages telling them that they have been selected for deportation, or to report to a re-education camp.

It is now law in Texas, by executive order of the governor, that you must show evidence of citizenship before being treated in the Emergency Room. It's not that they won't treat you. The Govn'r says it's to have a running count on how much it costs to treat "illegals". Right.

A friend who is a social worker said that the same thing happened in a hospital on the Eastern Shore. I understand that the ER person was fired.

And, of course, you know of the demonstration that happened at the campus of Texas State where men carried signs that said, "Women are Property" and "Homo Sex is Sin." This happened the day after the election.

This is just the beginning. (If you are one of the people who has gotten a text, please report this to the FBI (1-800-CALL-FBI (1-800-225-5324) or online at tips.fbi.gov.)

So, I am going to make a regular, searing inventory of myself. I'm going to work very hard at improving my strengths and equally hard on discovering why it is I have a tendency to do some of the things I do and say, and pray for the wisdom and courage to change the things I need to change.

This is very important. It's like Lent only more intense because now, the stakes are high. As one 80-year-old woman said to me in church yesterday, "I'm willing to die protesting in the streets if I have to because at least I'll die for what it is I believe."

If I'm going to die for what I believe, I'm going to be damn straight clear about what it is I believe and what I stand for, and who I am. Otherwise, it will be a waste of a perfectly good life.

I don't know about you, but some people are so clear about who they are and why they were put on this earth that all they have to do is stand up in a room filled with adversity and point their finger, and even though we don't know what was said, everyone knows.

Everyone knows. Everyone is perfectly clear.

I can't be Nancy Pelosi but I want to be more like Nancy Pelosi. And, Hillary Clinton. And, Kamala Harris. And, Maize Hirono. And, Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez. And, Pramila Jayapal. And, Elizabeth Warren. Oh, and, Meryl Streep.

I'm willing to bet good money that those women have gotten their superpowers because they regularly do a searching inventory of themselves - of their strengths and weaknesses;

the places in their souls where there is darkness and those places where there is light;

the places they need to be consoled so they can console others;

the goodness they can receive so they can give to others;

the places in their soul that need pardoning so that they can forgive and pardon others.

the places in their soul that need to die so they can help to call into creation new ways of being, new ways of helping people in need, and new ways of respecting (and restoring) the dignity of every human being.

I've learned that I can't magically pray myself into those things. It takes work. Hard work. Painful work.

Saying The Prayer of St. Francis doesn't make it happen, but with hard work and a little Divine assistance, we can be the kind of person we want to be, the person we know in our bones that God created us to be, and do our part in the Resistance we will need.

That will take a lot of self-care. And self-care, for many of us, especially women, is hard work. But, as Kamala says, hard work is good work.

Self-care is important if you are a member of the 'target demographic' of the incoming administration - immigrants, LGBTQ+ people - especially trans people - Hispanics, people of color, "fertile" women - but it is especially important for those of us who are deeply committed to making sure no harm comes to them.

For me, it's personal. For me, that means getting ready to protect and defend the hard-working, amazing Brazilian couple who clean our home every two weeks. It means the fabulous waiter at our favorite diner who has amazed us with his mastery of the English language from his native Turkish. The Columbian men who tend to our yard with great care, and the Guatemalan men who painted the inside of our home several years ago and are now thriving entrepreneurs with a working permit and a visa. The trans daughter whom I love of a dear friend of my heart. The transwoman I only know on FB but with whom I've had transformative conversations.

Good thing Advent is right around the corner. It will give me four dedicated weeks of work, four dedicated weeks of birth pangs, and four weeks to strengthen this beloved creature of God so that may better love myself and be kind to myself so I can better love and be kind to others.

I'm ready to do the work.

I hope something good happens to you today.

FB Reflection: Holy anger

Good Sunday morning, comrades in the struggle to stay on The Way. It's a lovely morning here but it is only 43 degrees. My mood, however, is a closer match to the cold than the bright sunshine that Mother Nature is providing.

I know. It's Sunday. I'm headed off to church. I should really get my act together. But, I'm frustrated. I feel like Jesus in this morning's gospel. The disciples are busy oohing and aahing over the large stones and Jesus is trying to get them to focus on what is and what is to come.

My heart is breaking after yet another conversation with another gay or trans friend who is planning to leave the country because they are so afraid of what will happen. This is especially so for my trans friends who fear that they will not be able to get their medication, but are more afraid of the violence that will soon increase, putting their very lives in danger.

I am angry about those friends of mine who caution me about my anger, who are made uncomfortable by it, who want me to "calm down" and "spend some time in quiet".

As if I haven't.

I think I'm most upset by the very noble posts on FB, made mostly by white men and some women of privilege, who post memes about being kind and having empathy or write lofty prayers about having our will bent to the will of God.

I always get a bit nudgy when the language of "my will bending to God's will" gets trotted out. In my experience, it's never about God's will but the writer's understanding or expectation about what God's will is which he seems to know precisely what that is for me, which is pretty much that I "behave" in a way that stops making him nudgy.

So, in my morning meditation, I searched for a few minutes to find Audre Lorde's book. I always find great comfort and affirmation and inspiration in "Sister Outsider". I've posted three of my favorite quotes, but I think the one that speaks most clearly to me this morning is:

"I can not hide my anger to spare your guilt, nor hurt feelings, nor answering anger; for to do so trivializes all our efforts."

An image keeps returning to me of an old woman I met in the Cardiac Unit at Mass General Hospital when I was doing my second unit of CPE in seminary.

She was Roman Catholic and, in Boston, we were not allowed by hospital policy, to see any Roman Catholic patients. So, I was talking to the patient in the bed next to her when her priest came in. He was a fairly corpulent cleric, all full of cheer and "joy in the Lord."

"Hey, Mary," he called. "How are we doing?"

"Well, Father," she said, "I'm going to have open heart surgery. They tell me they are going to crack my chest and that I'll be in a fair amount of pain after. So, you know, I'm pretty scared."

"Scared?" the good Father roared, "no need to be scared. Have a little faith, Mary! God will be with you. Here, now I'll say a prayer and give you communion."

And, he did and then left in the same swirl of "joy in the Lord" in which he arrived.

The woman sat in her bed, weeping softly. My patient looked at me and said, "Go to her."

I knew I was breaking the rule. I knew I could have been "written up" for my "behavior". I knew the incident could be reported to my bishop and the Commission on Ministry.

My head knew all that but my heart informed my feet to move and I found myself over at Mary's bedside. "Well, that was quite something, wasn't it?" I asked qently. "You okay?"

She smiled and looked deep into my eyes and said, "Well, the good news is that, as afraid as I am, I'm not half as afraid as him."

"Ah," said I, "let's talk about being afraid."

And, for the next half hour, we did, my Protestant patient joining in the conversation with Mary and me so I wouldn't be in so much trouble.

Mary's words give me a bit of an insight into my siblings’ intense need to tell us about "quiet" and "calm" and "bending our will to God's will" and "empathy".

They're talking to themselves. They're saying what they need to hear for themselves. Understanding that, I can find empathy. For them. Not for those who delight in oppressing me, or sticking their finger in my wound, or shrug their shoulders about the obscenity of the incoming administration's cabinet because, well, you know, "the economy will be better".

I have empathy for the oppressors because I know, as James Baldwin taught, that prejudice, bigotry and race hatred may harm the body of its targets, it also rots the soul of the oppressor.

So, I'm just going to take my pissed-off self to church this morning and ask God to bless my anger and help me to find a channel for it to "make some noise" and "make some good trouble, some necessary trouble".

I'm going to pray for the wisdom and courage to follow The Way of Jesus, especially as I see him respond to the disciples' "Idolatry of the Stones" by not backing down and not giving up on his vision of what is and what will be.

He stays focused. God help me stay focused and not be deterred, even by my own anger and frustration.

Help me to discern and listen more closely to your voice rather than the well-intentioned voices that ask me to listen to them.

Help me to know that my anger is a holy gift.

It is the divine spark to challenge evil.

It is the energy to bring about change.

It is the vehicle to find hope.

In other words, I'm going to take care of myself in the best way I know how: To bring my whole self before the altar of God and ask God to bless me and my integrity and my authenticity and help me be more of myself and more of the person God created me to be.

I hope something good happens to you today.

Bom dia.

Good trouble, necessary trouble

Good Saturday morning, dear companions in the long, ongoing struggle for truth, justice, and the will and the courage to stay on The Way.

I've been looking at the lectionary lessons for tomorrow, Sunday, the 26th Sunday after Pentecost. The Sunday before the Sunday of The Sovereignty of Christ. Two Sundays before the first Sunday of Advent. (Can you believe it????)

Here's what I'm looking at:

Track 1
1 Samuel 1:4-20
1 Samuel 2:1-10
Hebrews 10:11-14 (15-18) 19-25
Mark 13:1-8

They're all here https://www.lectionarypage.net/YearB_RCL/Pentecost/BProp28_RCL.html

G'won over and peruse them. It'll help you understand what it is I'm talking about. I'll wait. Promise.

Hi, welcome back. So, I don't know what popped out at you but after about the third time through, my eyes were opened to see four very different models of spiritual leadership, four different ways of being a priest, ordained or baptized member of the Priesthood of All Believers.

The first is Eli. To be fair and honest, a man of his time: A real misogynist. He uses his power and authority in arrogance and judgment. He can't hear Hannah's fervent prayer. He thinks Hannah is drunk. He's wrong. To his credit, his heart does soften to her the perils of her state and offers her hope and assurance.

The second is Hannah. Oh, just listen to the power of her song! She has suffered and been relieved. She has dared to hope and dream and her hopes and dreams have been fulfilled. And from that place of deep gratitude, she invites everyone into the song. She asks everyone to pick up their timbrel, clap their hands, and rejoice in the small and large victories of life.

A thought: You know that Mary had learned the songs of Miriam, Deborah, and Hannah which shaped and formed her own song of praise. And, you just know that, from the earliest times of his hearing, Jesus listened to all of these songs. It shaped and formed him, too. His "Lord's Prayer" echoes the notes of the songs of all of these women.

Anyway, onto the author of Hebrews - whoever he was or she who influenced his writing. What a great model of priesthood. Listen to some of the words of pastoral encouragement:

+ hold fast to the confession of our hope without wavering
+ consider how to provoke one another to love and good deeds
+ not neglecting to meet together
+ encouraging one another

I don't know about you, but in these very dark days of uncertainty and the intentional provocation of fear, I need to hear these words.

I hear the words of John Lewes, who also asked us not to be afraid but to provoke each other into "good trouble, necessary trouble." I'm feeling that call very deeply right now. I don't know about you, but even as I grieve, I feel I am being "provoked" to tough love and hope and community and encouragement of myself and others.

I also hear the words of Blessed George Regas, one-time rector of All Saints, Pasadena, and Giant of Justice, who encouraged us by saying, "The way we get where we're going is to set audacious goals and celebrate incremental victories."

And then, of course, there's Jesus, our great high priest, who is out with his disciples who are dazzled by the Very Big Stones in the Very Big Buildings. It's what one commentator called "The Idolatry of The Stones." (PS He wasn't talking about The Rolling Stones. Or, the other stones, either.)

Jesus is telling his disciples not to be distracted but to stay focused. Stay the course. He says,

"Many will come in my name and say, ‘I am he!’ and they will lead many astray. When you hear of wars and rumors of wars, do not be alarmed; this must take place, but the end is still to come. For nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom; there will be earthquakes in various places; there will be famines. This is but the beginning of the birthpangs.”

The disciples can't see it. They won't be able to see it for a long time. We can't see it either. Not with tears in our eyes and anxiety in our hearts. We won't be able to see it for a long time. But we will. We will.

The leadership we see of Jesus in this passage is that of the Prophet - the ability to see ahead and offer hope and consolation and teaching and guidance NOW.

Four different ways of leadership in tough times.

One way is that of reexamining your assumptions, softening your heart, changing your mind, and offering comfort and hope.

One way is subverting the dominant paradigm of power and walking through suffering and oppression with your head held high, not taking on anyone else's definition of who you are. Indeed, inviting others into gratitude and celebration.

One way is being a provocateur of love and good trouble; to be part of a community of love and encouragement, even if it's you who has to call that community together.

And finally, the way of being prophetic, calling people away from the idolatry of the now and the big and the shiny, and guiding them to remember who they are and whose they are and to hold fast to their values and beliefs.

One way or all four ways. Choose one. Or, two. Or, all. Whatever your choice, whether you are ordained or laity, know that you have ancient models of how to be baptized members of The Priesthood of All Believers.

I'm going to leave you with some words from someone I thing embodies all four models of Priestly, Prophetic Leadership. Bishop Steve Charleston wrote these words in 2018. Listen:

"No task is too great when you have the Spirit beside you, no call to leadership beyond what you can do. No challenge is too difficult, no goal too distant, no hope too much of a long shot. You have the sacred up your sleeve. You have the wisdom, patience, and vision you need to gather others to support the work at hand. Even time can be bent for you. Plans can be changed. Do not wring your hands before the demands of your situation, but raise them in prayer. Get the holy alliance of hope and determination going and see for yourself what is possible when faith leads the way."

I hope something good happens to you today. (How could it not? Remember, "You have the sacred up your sleeve," and "Even time can be bent for you.")

Bom dia!

A Lament

This reflection is about lament. It's a little long, so if your tolerance is short, best to scroll on by right now.

Before I begin, I want to tell you briefly about my understanding of a biblical lament. A lament is understood as a form of prayer that involves expressing sorrow, regret, or unhappiness, and then calling out to God. It's a way to process pain and find hope.

Far from being a 'pity party' or a time of self-indulgence, a lament is a way to reconstruct meaning in the very midst of suffering. It is a way to shape faith after it has been shattered.

A lament is a transformative way to understand God's character and actions. It is decidedly NOT passive but its power lies in its raw authenticity and deep integrity.

Classic biblical laments, like Psalm 13 and the Book of Job end with a decision to trust in God, which allows the psalmist to even sing God's praise.

This is a lament. These days, I am feeling a little like Hannah on the steps of the Temple. We're going to read a wee bit of her story this Sunday. (1 Samuel 1:4-20) Well, if you follow Track I in the lectionary.

Hannah had a good husband, one who loved and cherished
her, but she was unable to bear a child - a son - which was a woman's only insurance in antiquity.

So she went to the Temple and, in her despair, cried out to God, begging to deliver her from her fragile and vulnerable situation, promising God that the male child she would have would be dedicated solely to God.

In her despair, she was praying but not aloud. Her lips were moving but she made no sound. She didn't need to. Her lament was addressed directly to God.

Eli, the Temple priest, saw her there, on the Temple steps. He couldn't hear what she was saying so, of course, thought the worst. He thought she was drunk.

So, he yelled at her. Chastized her. Shamed her. Told her she was disgracing herself and to put away the wine.

Sound familiar? Anyone? I'm betting lots of women know similar stories and have been in similar places and spaces like Hannah.

We know about this kind of misogyny as well as the everyday, run-of-the-mill "micro-oppression." The side-glances. The dismissive tone they are unable to hear as such because they are really, seriously, honestly, being sincere. Bless their hearts.

I am so tired - so sick and bloody tired of being sick and bloody tired - of being told to be still, be quiet and listen - especially "listen to/for" The Spirit.

Here's the thing: I HAVE been listening. The problem is that Episcopalians have been carefully taught - lulled into believing - that The Spirit sounds "like the murmur of the dove's song." And, don't we just love to clap our hands and sway to "The Sweet, Sweet, Spirit in this place"?

Of course, we do, and this is not to deny that the Holy Spirit can sound like both of those things. But, if you've not met Shekinah Spirit, let me introduce you.

Shekinah is a Hebrew word that refers to the divine presence of God, or the visible manifestation of God's presence among Her people. The word is a transliteration of a Hebrew word that means "the one who dwells" or "that which dwells".

Shekinah is known as "the divine feminine spirit," but don't ever confuse her for a lady with an apron, pearls, and proper pumps who serves tea from a silver tea set.

Shekinah is a badass woman. You do not want to mess with her.

Ah, think I've lost it? Think I've gone over the edge? Think my anger has driven me a bit mad? Well, I have sisters who know better. Sisters - mostly of color - who have taught me about her.

Kristen Johnson Ingram describes her this way: "Shekinah takes other names. She is Shabbat, she is Presence and she is Spirit, the Hebrew Ruach.

In the beginning, Breath or Spirit or Wind rippled over the face of the womb of creation, brooded over and within the womb, stirred the waters to break and gush out and let God give birth to everything."

"She has come as Wind, a passionate intuition, as a blinding light, and a breath-sucking presence. This ain't no handmaiden but a queen, not whispering but crying out like a hoyden in the streets, bringing no consolation but urgency of motion."

I've been listening to her, Shekinah. Hers is no dove murmuring a song. She is howling like a wounded animal for all of her children who have been and will be harmed and injured. She is roaring like a lion because Her pride is threatened by predators, frauds, and thieves who are now in the highest positions of power.

This is my lament to her, as I sit outside the Temple, on the steps. It is based on Psalm 13 and the writings of Kristen Johnson Ingram and inspired by our sister Hannah.

How long, O Presence of God, will you hide your face?
How long must I wrestle with my thoughts?
How long will I be mocked and derided?
How long will all that I abhor triumph over me?

Help me not to run from the fire of Divine Love
Let me not settle for warmth but to burn with passion.
Help me live up to your demand to be w/holy as you are.
Consume me - swallow me alive - so I can be more of myself
than I ever dreamed I could be

Help me to eat, yes, a little of this bread,
Help me to drink, yes, a little of this wine.
just to wash it down so I'll grow strong.
Breathe on me until I am filled with your Holy Spirit
Make me fit for the Realm of God.

I sing your praise because you are badass.
You will not let your daughters suffer
nor your sons commit abominations.
I will sing your praise as a song for the journey
As I turn my passion into compassion
and work to bring your justice, your peace
into a world that is broken and dark and
in need of your Light.

This is my lament. Amen.


NOTE: "Hannah on the Temple Steps." Image by Carrie Kleinberger, an "imaginative realist" from Minnesota, she retired from a 21-year career as a public defender for Juvenile and Family Court in Ramsey and Washington Counties in 2001 and works in oil on canvas and on wood panels.