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There is no vaccine for this.

5 March 2017 at 21:30


I had the flu this month, in spite of having had a flu shot. It was miserable, and I was a little bit resentful at my flu shot for not working. But I had so many hours to lie about, listen and read to the unfolding political drama, and contemplate my over-arching question, that in some respects, it was helpful to be sidelined.

I thought a great deal, as I always do, about how far removed I am from the dangers and threats faced by the people who are directly affected right now. Yes, cuts to health care and medicare would surely affect me and people around me. But I am white, I live in a nearly crime-free rural area, I can grow and raise my own food, and I don't face deportation or homelessness.

Nonetheless, I am filled with anxiety and dread because the people of the world and the world itself, that is, the earth itself, are my community.

I am shocked every day when I wake up, to realize that a significant portion of the people I know, or thought I knew, and love or thought I loved, are actually heartless, racist, biased, and cruelly indifferent to the plight of their fellow beings.

Here's why I make such a harsh statement: Because, even if they didn't vote for or support Trump, even if they disapprove of the racist and discriminatory agenda that he has unleashed, they are, it appears, going about their daily lives unperturbed, or, if they are perturbed, it's about some personal inconvenience. My symbol for this is the suburban white woman who is so obsessed with getting her bathtub replaced until she finds a company that can put a liner in and make it like new... it's as if all of her troubles have been washed away! Imagine being a person of color today, or an immigrant, documented or not, and this is how you see most white people.

I'm not suggesting that we spend all day, every day wringing our hands over the travesty that has been racism for centuries, but is now being brought clearly to the surface. But I do think, if we call ourselves Christians, people of faith, people of conscience, or even human beings with hearts, we must, each day, be learning, listening, and witnessing, to our participation in white privilege and white supremacy.

I can hardly believe that Trump and his "Kremlin Klan," as I love to hear Maxine Waters call them, are being permitted to get away with this desecration of our systems of education, environmental protection, energy, health care, and so much more. Nothing is as painful to me as the heartless and brusque way they rolled into office and signed off on the Dakota pipeline, then crowed and bragged about it as a big accomplishment, with nary an acknowledgment that we literally stole this land by virtue of genocide from the native people, and this was one time that they had all come together to ask to be honored.



But as James Baldwin says, in the important documentary, I Am Not Your Negro, we cannot change what we will not face. In Buddhist practice this is known as sustaining the gaze. I believe that our schools must take the lead in educating young people for anti-racism, and go far beyond the niceties of MLK holiday and Black History month, to a more nuanced understanding of the history of racism. They (and churches) have a moral obligation to augment what parents are evidently not doing at home. Children aren't born racist. They have to learn it, and I'm afraid they are learning it from their own parents and relatives.

The thing that heartens and delights me day after day is the courage of those who are taking risks to protest and fight, to organize, call and rally, for others who are marginalized or who may be facing threats of deportation or other discrimination. It seems that apathy and silence has finally come to an end. The immunity to the sickness may not have worked. A virus too hateful, too horrible, came along. So we, the people, had to raise our own defenses, and we've found that we have, collectively, a heart and a will.



In the strangest way imaginable, Trump really has brought us together. To fight for our country. And to stand for those who, even though we acknowledge we have sinned against them, we have not truthfully and without fear acknowledged our own privilege over them, we still finally do care, we do love them, our hearts can be broken open by their suffering and their pain. We will fight for our brothers and sisters of color and of all statuses that render them marginalized. I can feel that this is true.

Next: Reparations.
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Ordo de Diservo fixed

22 March 2017 at 21:20

Thanks to Richard Hurst for noting that encoding rot made the “Ordo de Diservo” — Order of Worship — unreadable, even for those who do read Esperanto.

Should be all fixed, here and at RevScottWells.com, where I write slighly more frequently.

An Open Letter to UUA President Morales

29 March 2017 at 23:21

Dear President Morales,

I too, am deeply saddened.  This is the season of Lent, a time when we are called to look inward and examine ourselves, to prepare for Easter, a time of rebirth. So let us turn inward and examine ourselves individually and in the UUA, shall we?

I think it’s important in this work to be open and honest.  I am a cis-gendered, straight white woman. I am a fellowshipped minister serving a parish, and I serve on a District board, so I am quite familiar with governance and regionalization. The opinions here are my own.  Our current system privileges me over ministers of color, and often over LGBTQ ministers.  If I don’t recognize that and face it, I will never be in a place to change it.

My womb is not wandering, and my response to this crisis (and I do believe it is a crisis) regarding UUA hiring practices is not related in any way to the condition of my uterus. I therefore resent your characterization of peoples’ responses as “hysterical.”  Those of us who identify as women are far too familiar with this type of dismissive language.

According to your own biography on the Unitarian Universalist Association (UUA) website, you served on the Unitarian Universalist Ministers Association (UUMA) Executive Committee “as the first person to carry its anti-racism, anti-oppression, multiculturalism portfolio.”  Given this credential, I would expect a more culturally sensitive response.

In fact, when looking outward, you have often given thoughtful and sensitive responses.  In February of 2010 you wrote a moving letter to the Unitarian Universalists of Uganda, praising them for their, “…courageous stand on behalf of gay and lesbian citizens…”.  In November of 2015, you urged us as Unitarian Universalists to learn to follow rather than insisting on taking the lead,  and to learn to respond, as we worked as allies with Black Lives matter (read here). In December, 2014, following the horrible decision in the Eric Garner case, you said, “…Eric Garner is dead. Michael Brown is dead. And we must raise our voices, again and again, to proclaim that black lives matter.” (read the whole statement here). You made a similar statement in August of 2014 following the Michael Brown decision.

Even when talking about the UUA, at least in general terms, and when talking about the state of ministry in congregations, you have been aware of the numbers for some time.  In the summer 2010 issue of the UU World, you wrote in “The New America“:

Yet during this time the number of minority ministers has changed hardly at all. What is even more troubling, ministers from historic minorities have had great difficulty finding and keeping positions. Why is it that in a generation the situation of women and lesbians and gays in our ministry has changed dramatically while the situation of ethnic and racial minorities has changed hardly at all?

I know that the hardest work is the work we have to do in ourselves.  The time is overdue for the UUA to do this work.  It is not enough to rest on the laurels of the 2016 Ends Monitoring Report.  It is a monitoring report.  It doesn’t say “mission accomplished.”  It will not do to “whitesplain” or “mansplain” anymore.  When those among us who have been historically marginalized are telling us that they are once again being marginalized, we cannot simply tell them they are being “hysterical.”  We must pay attention.  A good starting place will be the statement from Black Lives of UUs here and The Reflection on White Supremacy in Our UUA from the staff of Youth and Young Adult Ministries here.

The UUA, and in particular, the American Unitarian Association, has a long and ugly history of racism.  We must face it, own it, and repair it.  In 1903, the AUA published The Blood of The Nation, a horrid treatise promoting eugenics and warning against the dangers of defiling the pure white blood of Americans with inferior races.  One hundred and fourteen years on, it’s time that we stop assuming that white is default or superior.  It’s time to examine our excuses.  It’s time to do the real work.

That’s my mite. It’s all I’ve got.

Update:  30 March, 2017

Dear President Morales,

I have just read your letter to the UUA Board of Trustees in which you announced your intention to step down as President effective 1 April.  I commend you for this difficult decision. Your letter is eloquent and thoughtful, and an example of the best of ministry.  In doing this difficult thing you are setting an example for all of us in that you are putting the needs of the UUA before your own.  I share your prayer that we will come together, listen deeply to one another, and reaffirm our commitment to one another.  After all, we are a covenantal faith — what have we got if we don’t have our covenant?

Yours in faith,

The Mite-y Widow

National Weekend of Prayer for Transgender Justice

1 April 2017 at 19:12

The Transforming Hearts Collective is proud to have collaborated with the Religious Institute in creating and resourcing the National Weekend of Prayer for Transgender Justice, March 24-26, 2017. The weekend of prayer was originally envisioned as a way for people of faith to lend support to Gavin Grimm and his court case against a Virginia county school board for not allowing him to use the boy's bathroom in his high school, which the Supreme Court was planning to hear in late March.

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When the Court decided it would no longer hear the case—in response to the executive branch's decision to remove Title IX guidance clarifying protection for transgender students—it became clear that a weekend of prayer was needed even more than before. Day in and day out, the suffering of transgender people, particularly those who are women and femmes, people of color, youth, elders, disabled, and undocumented, goes unnoticed by the mainstream.

So we broadened the focus of the weekend and helped create resources for faith communities to understand the moral imperative of transgender justice, practice guiding principles around working for transgender justice, engage in religious education related to transgender justice, and commit to next steps as faith communities to foster transgender justice both within and outside their congregational walls. Close to thirty different LGBTQ and religious organizations signed on as co-sponsors.

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Listen to Us!

26 April 2017 at 19:30
Cindy Davidson

Prof. Stephen Sipersteine, a climate change educator at the University of Oregon, reads and writes poetry as part of his difficult work. His poem:
Notes for a Lecture on Climate Change

Striding across campus
to an afternoon lecture, thinking
that I can change the world —

no, not the world, but maybe
adjust the lens so students will see
a little more clearly

the inner workings
of capitalism, colonialism,
power and climate –

then pausing beneath
cedars hundreds of years old
I begin to worry:

If only I were more prepared, more
patient, more compassionate, more
like someone I once believed

I would grow into.
When I arrive at class
I am afraid –

being stranded with nothing
in front of students who expect
answers to a wicked problem.

“But it can’t be solved!”
I want to scream.
“Let me tell you how

we have already lost
so many days not seeing
the weather change.”

Yet their faces do not say
Give us answers, or
Tell us the way.

They say, We are scared.
We are sad. See us
for who we are, here,

here on this day, in this
room, in this place.
Listen to us –

We will wait.
Can you imagine hearing yourself say these words or identify with these students?

I’ve been scared. I’ve been sad. I still am. Perhaps like me, you grieve the loss of how you’ve understood your place in the world in your lifetime. Or, perhaps you grieve the failings of the environmental movement of the ‘60’s and ‘70’s to adequately address climate change, and how we have continued to fail, as a society, to take timely action.

Joanna Macy, the Buddhist eco-philosopher, reminds us that we must honor our grief and not dismiss it. Only by experiencing our grief fully can we then begin, again, with gratitude for the gift of life itself to work towards viable solutions. Honoring our responsibility to alleviate the especially heavy burden climate change places on our kids, our young people and future generations requires we listen well.

Listen to the “climate kids” -- the 21 youth, ages 9 to 20 -- who filed a constitutional climate lawsuit against our federal government to secure the legal right to a stable climate. The US District Court judge has ordered that the case proceed to trial, denying the U.S. government and fossil fuel industry’s motions to dismiss the case. Similar cases have been filed in all 50 states and around the globe.

Listen to these “kids” – see them for who they are and what they face. Let us grant them generational justice and a livable climate.

Listen to young adult direct-action climate activists. I find Elizabeth Mount’s story particularly inspiring. Elizabeth, whose preferred pronouns are they, them and their, was one of the thirteen Greenpeace activists who hung from the St John’s bridge in Portland, Oregon in July 2015. These “danglers” effectively created a human drawbridge that blocked and delayed the passage of the icebreaker Fennica, which carried a critical piece of safety hardware to the Arctic where it was needed by Shell Oil in order to drill.

Elizabeth hung on ropes from the bridge for 40 hours and afterwards reflected:
The reality is that the climate has already begun to change noticeably and that we are going to be dealing with the storms, the refugees, and agricultural issues that come with those changes over the next few decades no matter what. That can be immensely frightening, or it can be a chance to really ponder what matters to us and what is most important.

Do I need all the personal items that make my footprint so big on this planet, or could I use networks of personal connection and mutual support that would mean material goods needn’t be as relevant in my life? What does it mean to substitute trust in human communities for personally having everything that I need to be comfortable independently? What would interdependence really look like?

No single day or single action is going to win this movement and nobody is going to be perfect. I know that I be can’t be inspiring all the time, but if each of us can be an inspiration sometimes, it might be enough to change everything. Because, as it turns out, in that time on the bridge, we did help change everything.

Shell pulled out of the Arctic Circle entirely by September. (Spiritual Lessons from St. John's Bridge)
Listen to our young adults, see them for who they are and what they face. Let us support them and work collaboratively in their fight for generational justice.

Listen well and then use your voice to amplify others’ voices, break climate silence, and echo environmental Bill McKibben’s voice us not to stand alone, but to join the climate movement.

Research tells us “only one in five Americans hear people they know talk about global warming at least once a month” – one in five! – “and seven in ten Americans rarely or never discuss global warming with family and friends.” Having more conversations about climate change and its solutions with everyone we know is critical! Keeping those conversations focused on the immorality of inaction is a successful tactic to bring about change – the change we need in the future our kids, college students and young adults face.

As people of faith, our challenge is to listen well and use our voices to become keepers of a new hopeful story our young people envision, climate change educators, and climate justice activists.

After his last class, Prof. Siperstine wrote this poem:
On the Final Day
When the room emptied of your voices
I sat in the back row to read again
what you’d left behind -- visions, futures
scrawled across the blackboard:

Less consumption, less disease.
Trains of light connecting everywhere
to everywhere else. Justice and good food
for all creatures, a tiny house for each

to make its home. Lives of peace.
No war, no cages, no razor wire, no prisons
no corporate money, no student debt.
Instead more forgiveness, more love

more conversation, more compassion
more things powered by the sun.
Better education, interplanetary government,
spaces for wildness, for wonderment.

I wanted to leave your words
to instruct passerbys that what they think
can’t be, you choose to see, and offered free
unknowing the value of your gift.

Yet for some easy routine,
and thought that if not me
someone else surely would
I erased the board and walked out

into the long shadows of the late afternoon.
But your words stayed with me
in the gathering darkness, stayed then
and still do, and all this is just to say
thank you.

(Finding Hope and Gratitude in the Climate Change Classroom)

Adapted from Earth Day 2017 worship service, CUUC

There Is No God, and She Is Always With You

5 May 2017 at 23:02
Rev. Meredith Garmon

Something called “Spiritual Atheism” is a growing phenomenon. An internet search will turn up lots of material, and recent books by Chris Stedman (Faitheist: How an Atheist Found Common Ground with the Religious) and Alain de Botton (Religion for Atheists: A Non-believers Guide to the Uses of Religion) also support religion and spirituality without endorsing a traditionally theist, personal God. De Botton argues that atheists, instead of deriding religion should steal from it because
“the world’s religions are packed with good ideas on how we might live and arrange our societies.”
A decade ago, a spate of books appeared that were grouped together as “The New Atheism.” The new atheists included Sam Harris (The End of Faith, 2004), Richard Dawkins (The God Delusion, 2006), Daniel Dennett (Breaking the Spell, 2006), Christopher Hitchens (God is Not Great, 2007). These books derided belief in God and also despised faith, spirituality, religion, and religious institutions. What we’re now seeing is a New New Atheism that doesn’t want to deride anything. While still disbelieving in God, this New New Atheism values faith, spirituality, and religion.

The idea that there is no God is actually a staple of Christian Theology going back centuries. The 9th-century Christian theologian John Scotus Eriugena, for example, wrote:
“We do not know what God is. God himself doesn’t know what he is because he is not anything. Literally, God is not, because he transcends being.”
Got that? This is a Christian theologian saying that God does not exist. Eriugena also says God isn't nonexistent in the way that, say, unicorns or good mass-market American beer are nonexistent. Rather God transcends the categories of existence and nonexistence, being and nonbeing.

To get a handle on Eriugena’s point, consider the commandment in Exodus and Leviticus prohibiting idolatry. The prohibition may have begun as a practice of tribal identity: “We’re the people who don’t do statues.” It may have started that way, but the ban on idols ended up pointing the Hebrew people toward something important. As a statue is fixed and static and unchanging, a person might also have certain ideas, beliefs, concepts that become fixed and static. The commandment against idols came to be understood as not just about statues but about any concept or thought-pattern that has become fixed and rigid. By abjuring graven images, the Hebrew people were subtly reoriented toward a conception of God as dynamic, unfolding, and always beyond whatever you can imagine, always other than anything you think.

The divine creative movement of the universe is dynamic, changing. Human understanding is ever unfolding. Idolatry means clinging to a fixed, static conception; closing ourselves to new learning. This, I think, is what John Scotus Eriugena was on about. Any time someone says God exists, she has some idea of what this God is that exists. This is problematic because any concept at all, if you’re stuck on it, is an idol. As soon as you have an idea of God – any idea – smash that idol and return to a stance of total openness to whatever the world might present to you without forcing it into one or another of your preconceived conceptual categories.

If you were to sincerely practice living this way, you would find yourself saying a lot of things that contradict other things you’ve said. Congratulations. That means you’re not making idols of your past statements.

“God” might mean community-forming power; love; the greatest source of beauty, mystery, or creativity; the widest or deepest inspiration to gratitude, humility, wonder, and awe; origin; any ultimate context and basis for meaning, value, ethics, or commitment; the widest reality to which our loyalty is owed; or the cosmos. These, too, are concepts that could become idols. By saying “God” we are also saying more than all of these definitions. Or rather, maybe, less.

We’re saying X – while at the same time whispering “but remember, also not X.” By saying “God,” we are invoking a tradition which, for all its abuses and its nonsense, also includes the reminder that all our ideas are inadequate, a tradition which calls us to smash our idols, a tradition that says there is more there than our words can say – so much more that even our truest words are also false to the fullness of the mystery within which we live and breathe and have our being.

There is no God – that is, there is no possible concept that can encapsulate all of the wonder and the paradox that is this dear life – the wonder and the paradox that is directly staring us in the face every moment, saying, “hey you, knock over the idols of what you think you know and wake up.”

Whatever you think you know, this moment has something new and fresh to teach you. Are you listening? Are you looking? Always. For there is no God, and she is always with you -- whispering: “Pay attention.”

Things Happen for a Reason?

29 May 2017 at 20:01
Rev. Meredith Garmon

You’ve probably heard – and maybe you yourself have said – things happen for a reason. Do you believe that? I mean, obviously SOME things happen for a reason, but is there a reason – not just a cause, but a reason – for every important thing that happens to you? Or are some things just coincidence?

Maybe some of us have brains that are inclined to interpret events as the unfolding of a grand purpose. Others of us have brains that are more comfortable with coincidence: sometimes life-changing events happen for no reason at all -- flukes happen. Maybe this is a genetic thing: a predisposition toward placing events in the context of some kind of intentionality or prior narrative may be normally distributed through the population based on DNA. I don’t know.

I am, myself, by nature or by nurture, more on the "a coincidence is just a coincidence" end of the spectrum. But what I’ve learned is that we can choose to make meaning out of the coincidences of our lives. Whether or not there’s a prior narrative, we can connect events with a post facto narrative. Doing so is kinda fun. It has a playful quality.

The concept of meaningful coincidences was first introduced to me about forty years ago – in a bar. I was eighteen-years-old, an undergraduate at Atlanta’s Emory University. I was in that bar with a woman a couple years older, Madeleine, a fellow student whom I’d met in British Lit class. She had a deck of Tarot cards, and she looked like she knew how to use it. I eyed the cards skeptically.

“It’s not,” she explained, “that I believe that your psyche, or the world, or anything exerts some force upon the cards as they are shuffled, causing them to turn up the way they do in an order which your personality uniquely determines. I don’t believe that. I believe some things are random, that quite a lot happens that has no reason for happening. By random chance it just happens to happen. Some things do have a reason for happening – a lot of things don’t. The shuffling of the cards creates randomness. The cards I’m about to turn up for you will have the same probability of being turned up for anybody else. The fact that your Tarot reading produces, say, the Page of Cups here and the Seven of Pentacles there is simple coincidence.”

She was apparently conceding everything to the skeptical debunkers – except that the debunkers infer from the randomness of the way the cards come up to a conclusion that Tarot readings are useless. Madeleine didn't draw that inference. She set about to present me with a layout of thirteen cards – thirteen little mere coincidences, and she suggested ways that the cards in the different positions interrelated into an overall story. It was then up to me to choose whether to make this coincidence meaningful to me. I could decide to make it part of my identity that I’m the guy that the Tarot cards just happened on that particular day to produce that particular story and lift up that particular set of interwoven reminders.

I know that after that build-up, you would like to know what those cards said on that day, but I don't remember that. The point that I’ve carried with me is the idea that the way we make sense of our lives is largely a matter of deciding to give or see meaning in certain of the coincidences of life. Something like Tarot or palm reading or astrology or the I Ching affords an opportunity to think a little more about who you are, to exercise your faculty of deciding what meaning to make of chance events.

Consider, for instance, the year you were born. Certainly, we are made who we are by the world we were born into. Yet the exact specific events that happened to happen in the year of your birth are just a coincidence – available for each of us to creatively play with and fabricate stories of who we are. I happened to have been born in Richmond, Virginia in 1959 – a child of Yankee parents born in the capital of the confederacy, coming into the world the same year that the last surviving civil war veteran left it. That mixture in some ways identifies me. I grew up in Dixie – in small towns in North Carolina, Alabama, and Georgia – but with the more Northern sensibility of my parents: not a northerner, but never quite at home among the pick-up trucks, the rebel flags, and the segregation either.

In 1959, Castro came to power, and the Dalai Lama went into exile: Cuba gained a dictator that many Cubans didn’t want, and Tibet lost a spiritual leader that many Tibetans dearly loved. That mixture also points to something about me: I’m suspicious of political revolution, while yearning for spiritual revolution.

An interplanetary future was dawning. 1959 saw the first moon landing, Russia’s Lunik II. The US sent up a couple of monkeys into outer space and brought them back alive. Also that year, jazz musician Ornette Coleman introduced free improvisation – a musical style of making it up as you go along. I remember these last two bits when I find myself feeling rather like a monkey in orbit, making it up as I go along.

Each of us arrived where we are today through some strange and winding series of accidents -- an unlikely and elaborate chain of happenstances. Yet here we are -- a unique and improbable agglomeration of personalities. What an amazing, glorious fluke! We come together to care for each other, affirm and strengthen our common values, work out a way to engage the wider world. We gather to make community, a home of what is of ultimate worth, and to awaken to everything included in this grand fluke.

The Clearing Grows Through Community Conversations

1 June 2017 at 22:11

The Clearing is growing! In the past year, this emerging spiritual community centering the voices, experiences, and liberation of queer and trans people of color and open to all, has been deepening its work in Durham, NC.

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Transforming Hearts Collective co-leaders LeLaina Romero and Rev. Mykal Slack, along with a group of close friends and chosen family in Durham, connected around a common vision for spiritual community that none of them had found in the area, but were longing for. We co-created spaces for rest, renewal, and uplift in the midst of HB2 repeal efforts, facilitated honest and pain-filled dialogue in the aftermath of the 2016 presidential election, and held visioning sessions to lay the groundwork for a series of community conversations to help identify leaders and continue to cultivate and curate what this new spiritual adventure can and should be.

The first two community conversations took place this spring—the first at the LGBTQ Resource Center at North Carolina Central University and the second at the LGBTQ Center of Durham—to explore people’s hopes for spiritual community. More than thirty people participated—people of color, queer folks, and trans/non-binary folks, ranging in age from 9 months old to 60+. Our time together was filled with the sounds and feels of babies playing and elders sharing; bread being cut, salads getting dressed, soup heating up; gratitude for the openness and the willingness to share what’s real, what’s hard, and what’s good, among new friends.

We learned that, for folks to show up fully, they wanted a multigenerational, nonjudgmental space to share meals and music, be outdoors together, hear cool sermons, learn from sacred texts, and make art. We also learned that, because of past pain in spiritual spaces, understanding how to show up as an anti-oppressive, multi-faith, multi-vocal space will take time and intention.

We visioned and dreamed together, and made a plan for sharing monthly dinners, finding the joy and release of dance and moving our bodies, embracing the power of ritual, and reclaiming public space out in the world, as well as building an evolving team of visionaries and organizers that will continue to breathe life and love and meaning into this community. And we continue to dream about engaging trans/non-binary communities in altar-building in places where we gather and connecting with local artists and musicians about creating art spaces and dance parties as places for healing. Ashe!

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The Bouquet

4 June 2017 at 21:30
Cindy Davidson

In recognition of the 95th Anniversary of the original Flower Communion service

Have you noticed the beautiful flowers at your feet lately? Listen carefully, and you may hear the flowers speaking in this ancient story, “The Best Flower in the Garden.”

Throughout the church garden, the flowers were in a tizzy! They saw the gardener strolling the pathway with her snippers and basket collecting flowers, and began to argue. Who would be selected to grace the Sanctuary table this Sunday? Who was the most beautiful flower in the garden?

The fragrant lilies of the valley, with their white coral bells upon their slender stalks, exclaimed with joy, “We are the ones who ring when the angels sing! What more fitting flowers for the Sanctuary?”

The gardener noticed, snipping just a few. “Ah! So beautiful and fragrant!” she said, adding them to the basket and continuing on.

The Virginia Bluebells called out, “We are much taller and more regal! Our bells bring the beauty of the blue sky to the shady forest floor. Surely, this gardener appreciates a splash of blue!”

The gardener noticed, snipping just a few. “Ah! Such a beautiful color!” she said, adding them to the basket and continuing on.

In the meadow and near the stream, the delicate Cuckoo Flowers waved in the breeze and whispered, “Over here! Over here! We are the wisest flower of all, for our blooms signal the arrival of the cuckoo birds each spring!”

The gardener noticed, snipping just a few. “Cuc-koo! to you, too!” she said, adding them to the basket and continuing on.

Meanwhile, the May Apple spread its broad leaves and spoke softly. “Just you wait! I guard the most beautiful flower of all! When the time is right you will see my blossom dangling beneath my leaves.”

The gardener noticed. “Ah! What beautiful, glossy foliage!” She kneeled to have a look underneath the leaves and said, “Ah, the time is not yet here. Your flower will come – I must be patient.”

Her basket filled, the gardener returned to the pathway to make her way indoors. Looking from ground to sky, she gave thanks for the abundant beauty of the flowering ground covers, shrubs and trees. As her eyes swept the landscape, she couldn’t help but notice the hillside covered by masses of a delicate-looking flowering white plant.

She gasped. More garlic mustard! European settlers brought it here in the late 1800s for its food and medicinal qualities. Since then, this innocent looking plant has spread so aggressively it overpowers the native plants and robs them of the nutrients they need to flourish.

The gardener wept inwardly and vowed to do everything she could to help remove those plants, so that life in its fullest diversity might once again flourish on the grounds.

She returned indoors, placing the flowers into vases of cool water to prepare them for the bouquet. She rested and reflected on the importance of finding beauty in a world that holds both joy and sorrow.

Refreshed, the gardener entered the Sanctuary to create the bouquet for the annual flower celebration service. She gathered her supplies, and in gratitude first blessed the flowers.

She began to select and arrange the flowers in combinations she found pleasing, balancing color, height, shape and texture, placing the most fragrant where their scents would not compete or clash with one another.

At times, she clustered like flowers and colors with like, for there can be a sense of belonging, strength and impact in unity. Sometimes, she intermingled the flowers with wild abandon, appreciating the energy each gave to another in the contrasting of their qualities. Mindful of the tension between unity and diversity, she favored no one flower over another. “How much better and more beautiful we are together,” she thought.

She remembered learning about the first flower ceremony years ago conducted by Rev. Norbert Capek, minister to the Unitarian church in Prague, Czechoslovakia. In 1923, inspired by a springtime stroll through the city full of blossoms, he asked all the people in the church to bring a flower, a budding branch, or even a twig with them the following week.

“What color? What size? What kinds?’ they asked. “You choose,” he said. “Each of you choose what you like.”

And so, the next Sunday people came with flowers of all sorts. There was excitement in the air as they filled all the vases. Together, they had created something greater and more beautiful than any one blossom.

That day, Rev. Capek preached: “These flowers are like ourselves. Different colors ... different shapes … different sizes, each needing different kinds of care -- But each [is] beautiful ... important and special, in its own way.” He invited the people to choose a different flower from the vases to take when they left that day.

As the gardener finished arranging the flowers, she wondered who in her congregation had chosen and brought each one. Who would take home which flower?

She reflected on the importance of biodiversity and wondered how she could be a good steward and Place Keeper of the land on the church grounds, in her own backyard, her neighborhood and all through the world. She pondered in her heart the importance of preserving a similar diversity in our own communities, one that values and includes all expressions of humankind. Why do we not appreciate different sizes, shapes and colors of people the way we do flowers? What would it take to remove those practices and institutions interfering, like the garlic mustard, with the full flourishing of all life?

She noted the proper conditions for the flowers’ growth -- fertile soil, nutrients, sunshine, rain, mulch -- and the important roles of pollinators and gardeners.

So, too, she thought, must we tend to the proper conditions for growth and vitality in human communities. So, too, must we use the right tools for different kinds of care. If we keep at it, inch by inch, adding our prayers and songs, so might the bouquet of life and the communal garden of our dreams flourish.

(Adapted from the May 7, 2017 flower celebration multi-generational service, CUUC, White Plains)

Forty-eight Letters

16 June 2017 at 02:01

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When was the last time you got an actual letter in the mail? A hand-written, personal letter?  When I was younger, and there was no such thing as e-mail, I used to be very good at writing to people, and as a result, I got a fair number of letters in return.  There were the summer camp letters.  I know from personal experience that children still eagerly await mail call at summer camp — but now it’s possible to send e-mails to your children at summer camp (these are still generally delivered at mail call). But I used to write to people even when I wasn’t away at summer camp.  And I kept this up through college.  But at some point, this art seemed to give way to modern technology.

So I decided to reclaim it.  For Lent this year, I took up the spiritual practice of letter writing.  I wrote a letter every day — forty-six letters (and then two more) to all sorts of people, and it was a wonderful gift — to myself.

I wrote to family. I wrote a letter to my mother. And to my brother.  I wrote to friends.  Close friends whom I talk to all the time, but who are far away.  Friends whom I haven’t talked to in a while. I wrote a fan letter or two.  And then I got bolder.

I started searching out people I hadn’t seen or heard from in years.  Like, 40 years.  In the Bible, 40 is code for “a really long time.” I know I wrote to at least two people I hadn’t seen in 40 years or more.  I wrote to a girl I remembered from the second grade.  We met in the second grade, but to be fair, I knew her through elementary school. I’ve wondered about her since then.  And I found her.  And she wrote back!

I wrote to a cousin I haven’t seen since my teens.  Not only did she write back, but when I was in New York in May, we got together.  Catching up on 40 years is hard to do over brunch, but now we’re connected on social media, and connected in real life.

I wrote to someone I know who’s in jail.  This was a hard letter to write, because I’m angry at this person.  But sometimes it’s important to say that.  They wrote back.  It was a difficult letter to get, too.  But if I’m to be true to my faith, true to the idea of God’s universal love, then I can’t shy away from the difficult spiritual work.

I found that, as I continued to write, it became easier to write, even to people who seemed more distant to me.  I started with the closer people, but I got braver.  I wrote with no expectations.  But I did get letters in return, and that was wonderful.  What a gift to catch up with people, to go the slow path, and dig in a bit.

One letter was returned as undeliverable.  Many went out with no word back at all.  But I said what I need to or wanted to say.

Since Lent, I have continued to write letters, albeit not daily.  But once awakened, it’s been easier to keep the practice fresh.  And I’ve found that it’s enriched the way I write to people in more formal e-mails, as well.

I like technology. I do.  I feel almost lost without my cell phone.  But I also think it’s important to unplug from time to time.  Nothing can be a replacement for face-to-face interactions,  and there is still something special about the slow route of hand-written snail mail.

That’s my mite.  It’s all I’ve got.

Radical Welcome Pilot Program

1 August 2017 at 19:00

The Transforming Hearts Collective is thrilled to announce the beginning of plans to launch a pilot program for congregations that want to take their “welcome” to the next level—with the support of a grant from the Unitarian Universalist Funding Program!

Growing out of a call to support congregations in becoming places where queer and trans people of all races/ethnicities, abilities, classes, and ages can fully get their spiritual needs met and bring their gifts forward, we are working to create a pilot program that will help faith communities transform their congregational culture around “welcome,” difference, the purpose of spiritual community, marginalized experiences (particularly sexuality, gender, race/ethnicity, class, and ability), and social justice. We plan to create a program that is:

  1. Intersectional. 
    No faith community can claim to be LGBTQ-welcoming if that welcome only extends to LGBTQ people of particular races, classes, abilities, and ages. Rather than treating different aspects of identity and experience separately, we plan to create a program that fully integrates sexuality, gender, race/ethnicity, ability, class, age, and more, and is grounded in the experiences and needs of people who have multiple marginalized identities.
     
  2. Heart-centered.
    We believe that in order for transformation to happen, we need to reach people’s hearts, not just their minds. A lot of LGBTQ inclusion work focuses on intellectual understandings of what it means to be trans, or what the experiences of gay people are, rather than deeply engaging on a heart level with how oppression keeps us all from being our full authentic selves when it comes to gender and sexuality. We plan to create a program that centers compassion, care, and love.
     
  3. Spiritually grounded.
    Practicing radical welcome is a way of practicing Beloved Community. There are deep, spiritual roots to our call to engage with difference differently. We plan to create a program that grounds participants in their faith and gives them concrete tools and spiritual practices for the work of welcome.
     
  4. Up-to-date with respect to LGBTQ identity.
    Language and understandings around gender, sexuality, relationships, and families have been shifting and evolving at breathtaking speeds, and many faith communities are decades behind. We plan to create a program that pushes participants to engage with modern understandings of gender and sexuality and stays perpetually up-to-date rather than becoming quickly obsolete.
     
  5. Flexible and custom-fit.
    One of the key flaws of curriculum-based programs for faith communities is that they don’t work the same way in congregations of varying sizes, resources, demographics, and geographic locations. We plan to create a program that allows each congregation that engages with it to have a custom-fit experience.
     
  6. Transformational.
    Transformation requires much more than a curriculum, which is why we plan to create a program that engages a congregation’s full membership and leadership, as well as engaging every area of congregational life, including worship, religious education, social justice, and more. We also plan to create a program that establishes practices for continued growth in this area, rather than a “one-and-done” approach.

We plan to utilize a grounded and accountable method of creating this program, starting with creating an advisory committee of people representing a diversity of sexualities, genders, races, classes, abilities, ages, congregational experience, leadership roles, etc., then working as a collective to create a pilot program, identifying initial congregations to participate in the pilot, and working closely with those congregations to improve the program before launching it in full.

Ultimately our goal is to help faith communities transform and live into their full potential as places of radical inclusion and forces for justice in the world. We can’t wait to share more as this program develops!

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I HAVE WORDS.

13 August 2017 at 13:29



It's a newish saying, this "I have no words." Never a problem for me. But at present I have words, and no pulpit. It also intrigues me when people say, I have no words. No words=silence, and that's the last thing we need. If we ever needed speaking up and out, it's now.

In the wake of Charlottesville, what will you do?

Carry on, perhaps shake your head or shed a tear for the young woman who was murdered standing up against Fascism and bigotry, then get back to your Sunday routine?

Or will you add a new dimension to your thoughts and prayers, your wondering about the future, whether you will be here or not? Will you spend some time reading up on the history that was referred to yesterday, Kristallnacht, Fascism, the KKK, David Duke, Robert E. Lee, and even the racist legacy of Thomas Jefferson? Most important, will you seek out the persons of color (POC) that you know and check to see how they are doing? Most are feeling eviscerated as these events unfold, and especially as they see the President seem to sanction police violence and other forms of extreme bigotry with a wink and a nod. Will you go to church today? Will you confront your pastor if she doesn't mention Charlottesville? Will you counter words posted on Facebook that in any way support Trump's "many sides" narrative?

If not: don't wonder what you would have done if you'd live in Nazi Germany. This is how it begins. No, I don't think it will happen here. Because I still think Americans are too kind, compassionate and courageous to allow it. But it's way past time to show that conviction.

I was more troubled than anything by the youth of the white supremacists: most were in their twenties. My daughter's age. I am beyond touched by my adult children's anti-racism. No, they are not just "not racist." They would all go to the mat to fight racism and bigotry. My eldest son is particularly big and strong. He's also busy and doesn't follow all the news. Half joking, I texted him early Saturday, and said, I just want to send you to VA to beat up these Nazis! He says, definitely. Then, I have no idea what you are talking about, but I'm always ready to beat up a Nazi (again, kidding, but no hesitation.) His life long best friend is Black, and unlike people's "I have a Black friend," he just lives his beliefs.



My daughter posted a most beautiful statement. She works now and has worked against oppression for many years:

I stand with those in Charlottesville putting their bodies on the line for justice. I name the demonstration in Charlottesville as as domestic terrorism, radical, violent racism, as a hate crime. I stand against white supremacy, though I have and will continue to benefit from it. I am on my knees in prayer.

My youngest child, who is Autistic and would have been destroyed by the Nazis, came to me the other day and said, "I got a new avatar (in Pokemon) and I named her Pansy (a friend from the local Black community) and made her brown, to fight against racism."

This touched me, because I started to think about my kids and how they all four have fought for justice and fairness in a lot of ways, not perfectly, but because they saw a living example of service and involvement. Also, far from perfect. But they see that I never stopped trying.

So, finally, I ask parents to look inward and examine their own behaviors and their own lives, choices, and commitments. This mother of the terrorist who murdered someone with his car was shocked. Really? He even TOLD her he was going to this rally. It's not enough to tell your kids, "Don't be racist." You have to actively teach them, not just with words, but with your choices, your actions, and most important your sacrifice, what that means.



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In Big Daddy's Garden

18 August 2017 at 13:58


Walk with me in Big Daddy's garden.

The abandoned shovel, trowel, and rake. Amongst the rows of neatly organized, pruned and tended fruits and vegetables, not a thing out of place, it was clear that someone had hastily departed. Dozens of cantaloupe lay ripe and warm, already detached from their stems. Tomatoes hung heavily from stems that were trained onto carefully constructed supports. Clearly, the gardener was missing.



What are these huge green things?


I was there because I'd offered to help weed the garden and pick the veggies. The garden's owner is a man who has been a part of our community for eleven years, and he's the husband of a good friend, a friend who probably saved my son's life with a phone call. She is very dear to me, and we are currently working together to start a Black History Society in the county we live in. Her husband, Benjamin Valdez, is from Mexico, and despite the fact that his paperwork for a green card is almost complete... he is in custody after being picked up by ICE over a week ago.
I don't know what the sharpened wooden posts are, either!

He's being held in Boone County, several hours away, so Pansy, who doesn't drive out of Springfield, and their foster daughter, who is devoted to Benjamin, and has been through desertion and trauma too many times to count, can't visit him, and he doesn't have his asthma medication.


The tidy and immaculate arrangement of everything was reminiscent of my father.

My initial reaction was envy. How could someone have so few weeds and bugs after a week's absence? Then I realized that no doubt Big Daddy (which is the name everyone uses for Benjamin, and I'll use from now on..) doesn't have an organic garden. I took one of the melons home, and ate it, still warm. It was nirvana. I have to admit that I began to wonder whether organic farming is worth it! I've spent the entire summer battling weeds and pests.

Even the debris is perfectly ordered!

But soon, as I tried to find a weed or two, and then resorted to picking what was ripe, and taking pictures, my mind wandered to Big Daddy. I don't know him well. I don't know a lot about the adult children he has in Mexico. I know he is a devoted church-goer and a hard worker, a foreman in the tobacco fields and an agriculture worker during other seasons. Last time I saw him, we talked about gardens and tomatoes, and he asked about my son... who no longer lives in the county. After I told him how well he is doing, he asked me if he goes to church. His English is heavily accented, and I couldn't understand church until he said iglesia. When my son was struggling with addiction and alcoholism, there were so many people who loved him, cared for him, and prayed for him. I will never forget that. And I am praying for Big Daddy, Pansy, and Pupcake (the daughter's nickname, and I have one, too. So does my son, and everybody in the Black community.)





These are strawberries.

Grapes. I ate one, and it tasted exactly like the grapes on my father's grapevines, of which he too was very proud. I started to think about how much he'd approve of Big Daddy's garden. And yet, and yet: to my father, born in 1909, Mexicans were the people who came around in the summer and worked in the farms. I'm sure he never met one otherwise. African Americans were inferior. While I never heard racist slurs from him, there is no doubt I learned and lived White Privilege.


The garden is terraced, and from the top down we have grapes, strawberries, watermelons, cantaloupes, eggplant, tomatoes, squash & more. As you ascend, a breeze stirs and lifts around you, even on the hottest day. I try to feel what it must be like for Big Daddy, especially compared with grueling, numbing work of tobacco fields in Kentucky heat.

Nonetheless, my father hated Nazis. He lived through two World Wars. He actually instilled a dislike of  Germans as strongly as that of Jews, Catholics and people of color. I had to look at my knee-jerk aversion to Germans! I don't know how he'd react to all of this. But in Big Daddy's garden, I saw the evidence of a man who must have found order, calm, peace and joy in his contact with the earth, his ability to grow something from nothing, his assurance of filling his family with good food. Much like my father.

I think they shared this.

My father, also an inheritor and (I would say) victim of white privilege, worked for the now-closed Frankford Arsenal during the Vietnam War, and until the mid-seventies. I think this troubled him. I think many things did. His garden, I am sure, gave him solace.

At this time during which we are being asked to stand up and take sides, I know that my father's daughters and all of my children are already standing with people of color, with Jewish people, with immigrants, and with the disenfranchised and the disempowered people of this land.




Everything was stacked and tidied to perfection. 

Pansy is optimistic. She feels certain that Big Daddy will not be deported because he has a lawyer and his paperwork is in order. He's one step away from his green card. I share this walk with you because you may not know a person who has been picked up by ICE and is being held prisoner in a country in which they've been a productive and peaceful citizen for more than a decade. A person who is going through all the steps to become a legal immigrant. 

So when you hear Trump or Jeff Sessions or others talk about "illegals" who bring drugs and rape people and who are criminals, think about Big Daddy. A person who plants, strawberries, takes his foster daughter to the pool, worries about my son, is loved by his community, is a man of faith and integrity.

I know Pansy and Big Daddy would welcome prayers and thoughts. Thank you for taking this walk with me. Please share.
Rake, left behind.




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Generation to Generation

16 September 2017 at 15:34

Generation to Generation by Madelyn Campbell

 

If you’re a year older than someone,

you can be friends. You can even be

Best Friends.

Or, if you’re not friends,

you can lord it over them like a

perpetual sophomore. You

know better. You’ve been there before.

You know the ropes.

 

If you’re three years older than someone,

you can be wiser. You can nod your head

knowingly, because the younger ones are so much

smaller and younger. And they have no idea what they’re in for.

But you know. And they will look up to you.

Because you are on top of the world now.

And you can, for a while, forget that the ones who are

three years older than you

look at you the same way.

 

If you’re ten years older than someone,

you can babysit for them. They might be adorable,

or perhaps they are a pest.

But you will be the caretaker. And you will remember things that

they do not. You were there, and they weren’t. Or else,

they were just little babies, and they cannot possibly

remember.

And even when you are old, this will still be true.

 

If you’re a generation older than someone,

you can shake your head and say,

“These kids today!”

In the Bible, 40 years is a generation. A long time.

Styles will change. You can say that you had it tougher.

You can say they’re ruining everything.

And you can look to the generation before you,

and you can shake your head, because you know that

they just don’t get it. They never did get it and they never will.

You know that your generation is the right one.

And you can forget, if you want to, that you are

connected

to the generation before you

and the generation after you.

And that every generation, dor v’dor, has said the same things

about your generation, and every generation

that has ever gone before.

How are you, Beloved?

25 September 2017 at 22:49



Swing built by Big Daddy for Pupcake. I loved sitting in it and thinking about how strong and sturdy he made it, of her day dreams as she watched him at work... and I loved the drink holder her made for their pop! All little girls should have a dad like this. It's at the top of the hill where there's a cool breeze no matter how hot the day.



First, allow me to check in regarding Big Daddy (Benjamin) for those who read my August post. He is still in custody, and has been moved around the country numerous times. From KY to Indiana, to Chicago, to Jena, LA (remember the Jena Six?) to a facility in Texas right on the Mexico border and now back to Chicago.

Protesting Jena Six arrest 2006
With UK students


Imagine that you are his wife, Pansy Valdez, a forty-something Black woman from Springfield, KY who has rarely left the county... and who depends upon "Big Daddy" for her livelihood and that of their foster daughter, Pupcake. You're going to have to roll with me on the nicknames. So far every person I've met has one, including me. I'm "Casey's mama," and almost never Cynthia.

Pansy is beside herself. Benjamin is not a criminal nor a felon and he has been here for eleven years, they are married, and his paperwork for staying is almost complete. But he is being treated like a criminal, or worse, like an animal. Moved from place to place, indiscriminately, denied contact with his family, and proper care and attention. I'm also disturbed by the way Pansy, a Black woman, is treated by the system. In this case, Black Lives and Brown lives do NOT matter.
Legal papers


Since I wrote about their plight, I've become friends (on Facebook) with a young woman at Transylvania University who is a DACA recipient and who was the victim of a racist and hate-filled campaign by another student. He has since withdrawn, but the issue gives off the scent of having been swept under the proverbial carpet.

I heard from a young man I know here in Washington County, a college student who has also been covered by DACA. The latest earthquake in Mexico struck his home city, and he would love to go there to provide aid, but he can't because he realizes he may not be allowed to return to this country.

Knowing individuals affected by these policies is something I highly recommend. It brings a humanity and a reality to the brutal and disruptive lack of sensitivity with which families and communities are being wrenched apart. Immigrants, both legal and undocumented, have been tolerated and even encouraged in this country for decades largely because they worked hard for low wages. Blaming them for coming here to escape dangerous situations and take those jobs is worse than disingenuous. It's dishonorable. In fact, if you think long and hard about it, people from South and Central America who are primarily indigenuous people have a closer link to the people who actually once owned this country than most of us (white Europeans) do.

Ladder.


I detest the rhetoric of exclusion and expulsion. It goes against every instinct that I have.


But, as I started by asking, how are you? Because I think those of us who have a softer heart toward the disenfranchised, the dispossessed, the disinherited of the world are also suffering at this time. All around us walls of security and promise are crumbling, and barriers, real and metaphorical, of hate and fear are rising. We are absolutely seeing the worst of our own colleagues, friends, families, and sometimes, ourselves.

Just last week, I brought up an issue at a local meeting of Democratic Women and found myself facing an angry and defensive response. I was talking about how our small county seat had no Black teachers even though there is a significant Black population (22%). They immediately disagreed, and some of the answers were: You are wrong, the Catholic school has a Black teacher; Well, there used to be a Black teacher; and they don't put themselves out for positions.

A few days later when I spoke to my son's 7th grade teacher about the notion of using Teaching Tolerance in the classroom, he proceeded to tell me he had issues with the Democratic party and Southern Poverty Law Center (which produces the Curriculum.)

And these are the liberal and progressive members of the community!

Our friends and acquaintances of color tell us that it's been this way for them all along. "Welcome to the party. We've always known how bad it is. You finally woke up and got a whiff of the Starbucks, soccer lady." Even those of us who've spent decades contemplating and reading, writing and preaching about racism and racial justice feel hopeless and answer-less.

We feel as if we are on a ladder to nowhere or a crazy amusement park ride that the carnival barker won't stop.

I don't like football. I didn't even like it when my son played 20 years ago, but he did, and my current husband watches it, even though the jury is no longer out about CTE. It's a barbaric sport and the mostly Black players, to me. trade their health, sanity, and years of their lives for money. Fans who watch it, well... I just can't understand that. It's like gladiators. But when someone says, regarding the current controversy about athletes kneeling during the national anthem to protest killings of Black men, it's a very week argument to say, "they are paid to play.It's their job. Do that on your own time." I cringe. Indeed, they are paid to do a lot more than play.

But IMO, many of the teams came up with a reasonably creative solution on Sunday: locking arms, showing solidarity, kneeling or standing together. It was not enough for some, and too much for others. A point was made.

So, I hope your answer was, Not fine. I am not fine at all. I think it's a most important time to be not fine. I think it's ok to go on Facebook if you live way out in the hinterlands as I do, to touch base, to converse, to connect. I think we have no choice but to stay engaged and figure out, individually and collectively, with as much courage and creativity as we can muster, what is ours to do to stop this menace that grows daily and to win back our country and its place in the world.

I have put a great deal of thought into how we are much like a huge addictive, alcoholic system at this time...which, for some of us, feels almost "normal...," which is why we must keep saying to ourselves and one another, This is not normal.


To be continued...




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There But for the Grace....

3 October 2017 at 19:26

Days like this, it is so good to go to the local Amish store and chat with Alfred and his daughters. It's not that the Amish are perfect or exempt from the challenges of living; in fact some things, like health care, impact them directly. They self-insure as a community, and Alfred's one son Michael (out of 8 kids) just broke his foot and had four pins put in... he told me each pin cost $700. (All things considered, I wondered if they did it without anesthesia, because it sounded pretty cheap.) But they are, in spite of their vastly increased contact with the English (only about 10% earn their living by farming now) still detached and serenely unconcerned with the turmoil and distress of modern life. It's their faith, and even if you find it absurd, you must admit that they are joyful, uncomplicated, and successful people.

Today, though, after having made that visit, and feeling I had stepped away from the ranting and speculation and finger-pointing after yet another mass shooting, a torrent of words and phrases I don't even want to get into... because it leads nowhere... and because I dispute the premises upon which it begins... something happened that left me far more disturbed, in some ways.


We live in a very small town (pop. about 200) and on my way home from the Amish store, where I bought fresh bread, nuts, kombucha made locally, chips, soap, and some items for my bnb, I stopped at the Dollar General to get something the Amish did not have. Heading to the register, I became aware of a woman with three small children ahead of me, trying to deter one of them (all girls) from fingering some candy. "Mommy can't buy that today. She doesn't have her food card.." The children were filthy, not a common sight in our rural town. People here are poor -- we have free lunches for all at our school --( and in fact, we are "poor" by common standards), but proud. We get by with loaning and borrowing, canning and freezing, stretching and scrimping. It doesn't look like a place of poverty. Yards and roadsides are clean and tidy. And kids have clean clothes and decent haircuts. So this woman, and her kids, stood out.


I glanced at her. And saw what I didn't want to. Her shoulder length hair was matted, her face as dirty as you'd ever imagine. Her stretch pants hung below her pregnant belly (the oldest of the three girls could not have been more than four) and also revealed a few inches of her buttocks. She had two residual black eyes and her nose was flat. Too flat for a white woman. Her front teeth, when she spoke a moment later, were gone.

Another woman, well dressed, with highlighted hair, swooped in and did what I'd briefly considered: Let me buy some candy for them. My treat, she said. 

It's just the money... the mom said.

Really, it's no problem at all, the lady stooped down and made sure each had two of the same, Mentos, and a round pop, so they wouldn't fight. You go on now. 

And on they went.

I was shaking as I paid my bill. This woman, a tiny saint, who knelt down to those children and said, in gestures, someone is out here who is kind and will care about you, was paying at another register, and I heard her say, That could have been me one day.

It was one of those idioms that I couldn't quite decipher; did she mean in the past, or in the future, if she hadn't escaped some situation?

That's right, I said, meaning me. Meaning, people I know, now and in the past, and people I am related to, meaning, it's not an either/or. It's just a matter of degree. There were four women in the Dollar General then. Two clerks and two customers. But a moment of understanding fell upon us that I think I have never experienced.

I had to stop three times on the four mile drive home. 

Yes, I know that there are men of color and women who are abusive. But the vast number of abusers are white men, from whoever is beating that woman so senseless that she doesn't even care if her butt is showing to the white man who just murdered and injured hundreds in Las Vegas, to our so-called President who spent days insulting and assaulting the Mayor of San Juan as she struggled to get a call for help out of her strangled throat.

God: what will it take for you to hear this prayer?

I tried to raise sons who would never demean or diminish women. I tried to raise a daughter who'd never sit still for one word of gesture that belittled or in any way impugned her.

Yet. Yet. The face and body of this poor, battered woman and her three daughters has nearly broken me, because I feel her within me. I think she lives within all of us, in the shadows, triggered so easily by the words of a domineering, narcissistic, dismissive, male (or female) and hiding there, in the shadows, where she was born. She wasn't born with us. We came into this world whole, proud, lusty, and worthy. And, just because you look "okay" doean't mean you're not on the continuum. With her.

The broken, beaten woman was born as the abused child, by stern fathers, mothers, teachers, abusive step-brothers, ex-husbands who cheated, demeaned, controlled, accused, bosses, and the shame that followed, and mocked by all the other women who I saw needed help and didn't know how to reach.

When I see her, in the flesh, it's like a ghost. I'm haunted. Pray with me.



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On Statues and Statutes, Part 1

12 October 2017 at 04:47
Cindy Davidson


Columbus Day – Indigenous Peoples' Day. What’s all the fuss about? What’s up with the round-the-clock police presence at Columbus Circle in New York City and the guarding of the 70-foot granite column and statue of Christopher Columbus that stands there?

As debate and the toppling of Confederate monuments has filled our news, so too has a reassessment of Columbus’ place of honor in American history. Meanwhile, the fate of the more than 100 statues of Columbus across the country hangs in the balance.

As the Denver Post reports, statues from California to Minnesota have recently faced vandalism or removal. In New York last month, the Columbus Circle monument was vandalized with pink nail polish, symbolizing the blood on Columbus’s hands. And, not far away in Central Park, a seven-foot tall statue of Columbus was spray-painted with the words “Hate will not be tolerated.” The hands were covered in red ink. (http://www.denverpost.com/2017/10/07/christopher-columbus-statue-police-guard)

Geez, I grew up knowing Columbus as a hero, the explorer who first discovered America! I remember celebrating Columbus Day, a federal holiday since 1937, in elementary school. We recounted the tales of his voyages to the New World … the three Spanish ships a-sailing in 1492 … the Pinta, the Santa Maria, and the Santa Clara, nicknamed the Niña.

And today … well, today we assail that tale, as we deconstruct a history that’s been told impartially and through the lens of white superiority and the so-called “Age of Exploration” and colonialism. Today, we hear a more complete history of discovered lands and people – but, just who discovered whom? It depends on who you ask! There are two points of view, at least, in every meeting and border crossing.

Now, thanks to historical records, scholars, and the lived experiences of our Indigenous Peoples, we have an opportunity to face uncomfortable truths about how our country was so-called “founded” and “settled.” We have an opportunity, for those of us of European heritage, to acknowledge where we have been complicit in or benefited from centuries of wrongdoing.

We know Christopher Columbus was an Italian explorer who set out to reach the East Indies by a western route. His voyages to the Americas were financed by the Spanish Crown, which was eager to enter and profit from the spice trade. We don’t always remember – at least I wasn’t taught – that Columbus had been a slave-trader for twelve years before his first voyage to the Americas when he landed in what is now Haiti and the Dominican Republic. During a time of economic competition, his real search was for gold but the bounty he claimed was in the number of Arawak people he “discovered,” captured and enslaved.

Scholar Roxanne Dunbar-Ortiz and journalist Dina Gilio-Whitaker report Columbus took ten to twenty-five captives to Europe from his first voyage, with only seven to eight surviving the trip (Dunbar-Ortiz, Gilio-Whitaker. “All the real Indians died off”: and 20 other myths about Native Americans. Boston: Beacon Press, 2016. p 26). In his second voyage, he returned with “seventeen heavily armed ships, attack dogs and more than twelve hundred men (26),” capturing fifteen hundred men, women and children. Of those, five hundred were sent back to Europe, though only three hundred survived. All told, over four voyages, “Columbus is thought to have enslaved five thousand Indigenous Peoples throughout his voyaging career (26)” – he holds a record for any one individual. Something else I never learned in school!

Columbus set up large estates on the islands and enslaved the Arawaks to extract gold; when gold was not found, he systematically killed them, and many were driven to “mass suicide and infanticide to escape the cruelty of the Spaniards (Dunbar-Ortiz 27).” Historian Howard Zinn writes, “In two years, through murder, mutilation and suicide, half of the two-hundred-fifty thousand Indians on Haiti were dead. By 1515, there were perhaps fifty thousand left…. By the year 1550, there were five hundred. A report of the year 1650 shows none of the original Arawaks or their descendants left on the island (27).”

That’s a pretty gruesome and savage account, in my opinion.
Hmmm…. I didn’t learn this in school either! This man’s a hero?
Just who wrote my history text-books?

Columbus wasn’t the only explorer of his times to venture forth and capture lands and peoples for European monarchs. He and others had the Catholic Church’s urging, if not blessing, to declare religious wars on nonbelievers and to seize their lands. The Church issued legally binding edicts, called “papal bulls,” that justified such practices and set forth specific orders. Three of the edicts from the 1400’s form what we know as the “Doctrine of Discovery.”
 
The first edict issued, in 1452, gave Portugal the authority to “reduce Muslims, pagans, and other nonbelievers to perpetual slavery and to seize their property, and … facilitated the Portuguese slave trade from West Africa (Dunbar-Ortiz 29).” A second, in 1454, granted Portugal a monopoly on the African slave trade. A third, issued in 1493 after Columbus’s first voyage, granted the newly “discovered” lands to Spain.

The Doctrine of Discovery reflects beliefs in manifest destiny and Christian imperialism that hark back to the mindset, language, and practices of the Crusades between the eleventh and thirteenth centuries. It is steeped in Christian superiority, especially of European white Christians, and is an early overtly racist document.

Now, hundreds of years later, we might consider this a closed case --- Columbus and other explorers have come and gone; and our churches don’t carry out Crusades of this type anymore, at least not to my knowledge. We can’t undo the past, we can’t bring back the lives that have been lost, we can’t undo most of the atrocities our Indigenous kin have suffered since Columbus’ days. We can agree that what’s past is past, right?

On Statues and Statutes, Part 2
On Statues and Statutes, Part 3

On Statues and Statutes, Part 2

12 October 2017 at 04:50
Cindy Davidson

We can’t quite concur that what’s past is past with Columbus and the Doctrine of Discovery. That’s because the Doctrine of Discovery has been articulated and used in US courts and become part of a body of federal Indian law and that has been used to deny tribal sovereignty and land rights for almost two hundred years and continues to be used in case law. It has also been a key tenet in statutes that infringe upon the freedoms, rights and thriving of African Americans.

In 1823, US Supreme Court chief justice John Marshall used it to argue “that ‘superior genius of Europe’ claimed an ascendancy over the Indigenous peoples and that the bestowal of civilization and Christianity was ample compensation to the inhabitants (Dunbar-Ortiz 29).” He also argued that “discovery” of a land equaled conquest and the Doctrine “becomes the law of the land, and cannot be questioned (46).”

Later, beginning in 1887, the Doctrine was used in the Dawes Act, the General Allotment Act in effect until 1934 which divided treaty lands into privately held lots meant to undermine tribal communal life. This was also “a massive land grab by the United States, with a loss of two-thirds of Indian treaty lands by an act of legislation (55).”

Lastly, as recently as 2005, the US Supreme Court has cited the doctrine in a decision concerning the Oneida Indian Nation of New York (doctrineofdiscovery.org).

Cherokee anthropologist Russell Thornton estimates a pre-contact Indigenous population in North American of seven million plus. “By 1890, 228,000 American Indians were counted in the US, … a population decline of roughly 97 percent (Dunbar-Ortiz 28).” A complete litany of the genocide, cultural genocide, and other mistreatments of our Indigenous Peoples perpetuated by the Doctrine of Discovery and its way of shaping thinking, behavior and legal decisions, is best summarized and revealed, I think, by this confession, apology and pledge from the Bureau of Indian Affairs.

In September 2000, Kevin Gover, Assistant Secretary of Indian Affairs at the Department of the Interior, offered these remarks at a ceremony marking the 175th Anniversary of the establishment of the Bureau of Indian Affairs. I share here excerpts that resonate with me, inspire my reflection and engender a similar humility as a white person benefiting from settler colonialism at the expense of our kin of color. Gover writes:


… this is no occasion for celebration; rather it is time for reflection and contemplation, a time for sorrowful truths to be spoken, a time for contrition. 

From the very beginning, the Office of Indian Affairs was an instrument by which the United States enforced its ambition against the Indian nations and Indian people who stood in its path, … to execute the removal of the southeastern tribal nations, …. and to participate in the ethnic cleansing that befell the western tribes. … The deliberate spread of disease, the decimation of the mighty bison herds, the use of the poison alcohol to destroy mind and body, and the cowardly killing of women and children made for tragedy on a (ghastly) scale. This agency and the good people in it failed in the mission to prevent the devastation. And so, great nations of patriot warriors fell.

After the devastation of tribal economies and the deliberate creation of tribal dependence on the services provided by this agency, this agency set out to destroy all things Indian … (it) forbade the speaking of Indian languages, prohibited the conduct of traditional religious activities, outlawed traditional government, and made Indian people ashamed of who they were. Worst of all, the Bureau of Indian Affairs committed these acts against the children entrusted to its boarding schools, brutalizing them emotionally, psychologically, physically, and spiritually.

The legacy of these misdeeds haunts us. ... These wrongs must be acknowledged if the healing is to begin.

Let us begin by expressing our profound sorrow for what this agency has done in the past. ... On behalf of the Bureau of Indian Affairs, I extend this formal apology to Indian people for the historical conduct of this agency.

We accept this inheritance, this legacy of racism and inhumanity. And by accepting this legacy, we accept also the moral responsibility of putting things right.

Never again will this agency stand silent when hate and violence are committed against Indians. Never again will we allow policy to proceed from the assumption that Indians possess less human genius than the other races. Never again will we be complicit in the theft of Indian property. Never again will be appoint false leaders who serve purposed other than those of the tribes.

Never again will we allow unflattering and stereotypical images of   Indian people to deface the halls of government or lead the American people to shallow and ignorant beliefs about Indians. Never again will we attack your religions, your languages, your rituals, or any of your tribal ways. Never again will we seize your children, nor teach them to be ashamed of who they are. Never again.

Together, we must wipe the tears of seven generations. Together, we must allow our broken hearts to mend. Together, we will face a challenging world with confidence and trust. Together, let us resolve that when our future leaders gather to discuss the history of this institution, it will be time to celebrate the rebirth of joy, freedom, and progress for the Indian Nations. (Complete remarks at https://www.indianaffairs.gov/sites/bia.gov/files/assets/public/pdf/idc1-032248.pdf)

May we as a country be up to that formidable task.

On Statues and Statutes, Part 3
On Statues and Statutes, Part 1

On Statues and Statutes, Part 3

12 October 2017 at 04:53
Cindy Davidson

As Unitarian Universalists, we affirm the inherent worth and dignity of every person. We are called to bear witness to those whose worth, dignity and rights are denied. We are called to answer the call to love and defend those rights. Knowing this, delegates of the 2012 General Assembly of the Unitarian Universalist Associations, our annual large gathering, passed a responsive resolution repudiating the Doctrine of Discovery. Delegates called it “a relic of colonialism, feudalism, and religious, cultural, and racial biases having no place in the modern-day treatment of indigenous peoples.” (See https://www.uua.org/action/statements/doctrine-discovery)


The resolution called “upon our Association to invite indigenous peoples into a process of Honor and Healing (often called Truth and Reconciliation) and to consider Unitarian, Universalist and Unitarian Universalist complicity in the structures and policies that oppress indigenous peoples and the earth.”

The work of truth and reconciliation, the work of justice-making and being good allies to Indigenous Peoples today rests not solely with our Association’s leaders. We, too, play an important role.

We can cultivate relationships with the Indigenous Peoples in our own area and learn more how they would like us to follow their lead in addressing their current challenges. For us, that would be the Ramapough Tribe in Mahwah, New Jersey which maintains the SplitRock Sweetwater Prayer Camp, working to educate citizens and protect sacred lands and waters from the environmental threats of proposed pipelines. The Westch­­­ester Indigenous Collaboration is in development in a neighboring UU congregation to offer support and partnership to the prayer camp. Stay tuned for ways to become involved.

UU minister Colin Bossen, in his award-winning sermon, “This Land is Your Land?” picks up on how the Doctrine of Discovery, which he describes as a “product of human imagination,” “is one of those hidden sources of human suffering that needs to be revealed [not only because of the atrocities][but also because] it remains present ….. within the way most European Americans think about our relationship to the land.”

He urges those of us who are primarily of European descent “to enter into right relationship with the land and her original inhabitants, our indigenous” kin, that is “to reconcile ourselves to our mother earth and all of her peoples who our ancestors harmed, and who we continue to harm, through the ongoing process of colonialism.” (http://colinbossen.com/the-latest-form-of-infidelity/13604898)
           
Neither we, nor any peoples, are owners of the land, of this earth, though we may “own” a sense of discovery as we encounter new lands, landscapes and people on our life journeys or legally own a title or rights to specified land.       
           
Rather, we are of this earth… waters, fire, atmosphere, sun, moon, the stars.
“Earth forms us,” we sang earlier. “Then, let us with justice, willing and aware, give to earth, and all things – [all peoples] – ­­­­living liturgies of care.” (“We are Not Our Own.” Singing the Living Tradition Hymnal, #317. UUA, 1992)

Let us “create a new inheritance for the future, … recognize and abandon the familiar attitudes and practices that do not serve the whole, … and assist in dismantling paradigms of oppression and suffering.” (Spoken Invocation: “Being Human Means We Are of This Earth” by Sweethome Teacup: https://www.uua.org/worship/words/invocation/being-human-means-we-are-earth)

Let us build the way to a future that “honors the gifts of the people who were here before … that heals wounds, makes amends, and honors the holiness of all humanity.” (Reading: “Call to Worship for Indigenous People’s Day” by Rev. Jason Cook. Minister, Unitarian Universalist Congregation in Fullerton, CA. October 5, 2017.)

Let us lift up, honor and celebrate Indigenous Peoples this day and every day.

Steadfast in the Craziness

19 October 2017 at 19:11
Rev. Meredith Garmon, Oct 3

Hurricane Maria brought suffering to millions in Puerto Rico. Water is in short supply, the power is out on much of the island, communications are down, and temperatures are hitting 44 degrees C -- which is 112 F. It's a deadly dangerous situation for critically ill hospital patients. The San Juan airport is packed with people there to get a one-way ticket off the island.

In Las Vegas, Steven Paddock fired from a hotel into a concert crowd, killing 59 and injuring about 500 more.

Our distress at these two disasters is compounded by our country's tepid response. In the one case, thankfully, aid is arriving in Puerto Rico. Getting it distributed to the places it is most needed remains a huge challenge which we could do more to help address. In the other case, the most needed response is reasonable gun control legislation -- which our legislature is incapable of passing.

Other calamities of recent months include the Transgender Military Ban, the rescinding of Deferred Action for Childhood Arrivals (DACA), violence and white supremacy in Charlottesville.

The world may seem to be getting crazier, harsher, crueler. Our task remains what it always is: to love, to connect in empathy and kindness, to seek understanding, to give help where we can, to keep doing the work of peace and justice. There are many so committed. We are not alone. As the poet Adrienne Rich put it:
My heart is moved by all I cannot save:
so much has been destroyed
I have to cast my lot with those
who age after age, perversely, with no extraordinary power
reconstitute the world.

"We Can't Thrive If We Don't Survive"

1 November 2017 at 19:22
Thriving Together.png

Last week Transforming Hearts Collective co-leader Teo Drake delivered a keynote address at the annual South Carolina HIV, STD and Viral Hepatitis Conference, held October 25–26 in Columbia, South Carolina. The theme of this year’s conference was “Thriving Together for Tomorrow.”

Teo’s keynote was titled “We Can’t Thrive If We Don’t Survive: Addressing Disparities in Access to Care for Transgender People,” and covered the current landscape faced by transgender people living with HIV, the particular barriers that HIV-positive trans people face in accessing competent care, the strengths and resilience that trans people bring forward to get their needs met, and the ways in which race, class, ability, sexuality, and gender intersect within HIV-positive trans communities and how these intersections affect disparities, access, and health outcomes.

Teo also teamed up with fellow Positively Trans National Advisory Board member Kiara St. James to deliver two workshops: “Transgender 101” and “Fighting for Survival: The Call to Center the Needs and Expertise of Transgender Women of Color.”

Attached media: https://web.archive.org/web/20211108152925/https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/589767cae58c62ed8ac20bc5/1533065166545-TZ4854KF34UKB3CDOV9L/Thriving+Together.png?content-type=image%2Fpng

Happy Thanks-taking Day!

23 November 2017 at 16:15


I enjoy the traditions of this day! The third Thursday in November is a national holiday that is secular and all-American (except for the original "Americans.") But the myth of the first Thanksgiving is dangerous. I've taught all my children the truth: the story of the Pilgrims and the Indians was made up to whitewash genocide. Just yesterday, I told Seth, who is now twelve, a version of this, and since he's autistic, we never know how he'll react. He did reportedly, say, "Happy Thanks-taking Day" to a few people, but he also, when put in a group to make as many words as possible out of "Happy Thanksgiving," added in s--t, a prank that has more to do with his fascination with cuss words than with his newfound understanding of Thanks ("giving.") 

My son(right) in first grade, 1988


I think schools are far less likely to teach the old pilgrim and Indian story now. I know our national parks and museums have begun to include truthful accounts of the invasion and genocide we prosper from. You could say: that's the past, so get over it, because we can't change it.

But Native American communities are suffering today. They are suffering from poverty, early death, and addiction at higher rates than the general population. And the opioid crisis has hit them even more intensely.



My great grandfather, J.D. Self, and three daughters. My grandmother, Agnes Self Patton, is the eldest.



My great-grandmother was a Cherokee Indian who married a white man. She died in childbirth, and the baby, a boy named after his father, died a few months later. This was in the late 1800s. He was left to raise three girls, my grandmother, and her sisters. I found the graves of my great-grandparents and the baby in the tiny town of Telford, TN, some years ago. My grandmother married an alcoholic, my grandfather, also from Telford, and the disease has run rampant through my family. 
Great-grandmother Mora Lake Self

Family systems are remarkable. Without even knowing the patterns, we repeat them. My mother died when I was five, and my father raised three children, albeit with a stepmother. I married an alcoholic, and my own sons suffered from the disease. All of this is to say that holidays are fraught with memories and sadness and pain that may be invisible to others, and incomprehensible, even to oneself. You can repress them, but grief unacknowledged will surface.

Alice Miller:

“The truth about our childhood is stored up in our body, and although we can repress it, we can never alter it. Our intellect can be deceived, our feelings manipulated, and conceptions confused, and our body tricked with medication. But someday our body will present its bill, for it is as incorruptible as a child, who, still whole in spirit, will accept no compromises or excuses, and it will not stop tormenting us until we stop evading the truth.” 


My first child, 1982.


My mother died on December 10, 1960. It took me a very long time to acknowledge that Thanksgiving and Christmas, and especially the time in-between, would never be uncomplicated. My father's only brother, a beloved uncle who played a magical role in my childhood, came to our house for Thanksgiving when I was 13 and died in his sleep that night. My father's grief was bottomless. He drank even more than he had before. He and his brother had been best friends, and had both been bachelors and sportsmen into their forties.


The Thanksgiving before we separated, my then-husband told me he wouldn't cook and he wouldn't be there, after I'd invited my family. I can't even remember why. I know he thought I'd beg him to stay home. But I went forward, and just decided I'd cook the food myself. He ended up being there, and cooking, after all. It was a cruel trick.

Because of divorce, I spent many Thanksgivings alone, or without my kids.

After I remarried, and our daughter came along, the bad holidays continued. Once, we drove to New Jersey, and brought all the makings for Thanksgiving dinner, to find that my half-sister and stepmother had decided to go elsewhere, and my sons had to eat with their father, so my husband, our daughter and I ate alone in my family home. This sort of disregard is typical in my family.

My brother lives in Connecticut, and I haven't seen him for about ten years. My half-sister in New Jersey isn't speaking to me. To be fair, I confronted her angrily in April for what I perceived as her lack of hospitality to my kids (and me.) I may not have any meals, far less Thanksgiving, at the home I grew up in. It belongs to her now.

One thought I had when I heard David Cassidy died was, "Well, he and his family will be spared another hellacious Thanksgiving." Cynical, I know. But having alcoholics in the family is worst on holidays. The apprehension about whether they will show up, and in what condition, is bested only by cumulative fear and anxiety when they don't. Texts and phone calls, excuses and late arrivals, slurred speech and bleary eyes: these are on the menu in an alcoholic family. Just recently, one of my sons told me that the holidays caused him intense anxiety. I'd never taken the time to see it from his point of view. Now, I can. I am so grateful to him for telling me.

I could go on, but you get it. And I know I'm not special. Or unique.

Last Thanksgiving at home? 2014


I actually love this day: my favorite part is the food preparation. This year, we are using lots of things we grew ourselves. I'm grateful for so much! My sons are years into recovery. One of them is in Oregon, working on a fishing boat, because he can now follow his dreams. The other one will be at our family gathering. He's a vegan, and so is my daughter. I'm healthy, and have time to write, garden, and do research.

I focus and raise up the problems of the world, because we cannot ever forget those who suffer, who are impoverished, addicted, oppressed, or disenfranchised.The world, like the body, will present its bill, already has, and we can no loner afford to evade the truth. At the same time, I can be profoundly grateful for what remains. You wouldn't fight for a world you didn't love.

I would be happy to have it called "Gratitude Day." And in our gratitude, remember all of those who came before, those who didn't make it, those who aren't here, and those who writhe in pain today:

If you are here to read this,
think of those who aren't.
Pray for them: good thoughts for those
who lost their minds, love and years
to compulsion, addiction and fears.
Think of their great sacrifice.
We recover on the bones of others.
Wrap your loving thoughts around them:
alone no more.
If you are here and recovering
your original shining true self,
a moment of silence for those driven mad
by the voices and screams of disease-
driven dreams. We walk from night to day
on a path made of the bones of others.
Hold them tightly in the warm arms of your spirit:
cold no more.
If you are here and attaining freedom,
a thousand bows for those who didn't
reach this shore and drowned in a
sea of despair: suffering no more.
We walk in freedom past cages made
of the bones of others.
They hand us the keys of desperation.
Quench their burning thirst
with the tears of your soul.
Calm their cravings. Still their minds.
Grant them peace in the dark and
lonely places below and above the ground.
Fill the gaping holes left by their deaths
with the immensity of your love.
Remember them as you sleep;
remember them as you wake.
Only a thought is the difference
between you and the bones of others.

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A Revival of Renewal & Resistance

1 December 2017 at 23:26

Last month Transforming Hearts Collective co-leader Rev. Mykal Slack joined with other trans spiritual leaders and clergy during the weekend leading up to the International Transgender Day of Remembrance to organize and offer "TRANS-forming Proclamation," an inaugural trans-led, trans-voiced, trans-envisioned revival of renewal and resistance hosted by Peace United Church of Christ in Hickory, North Carolina.

TRANS-forming proclamation.png

For the first time, trans clergy from across North Carolina came together to offer words of celebration, encouragement, hope, healing, and call to community-building to the whole of our communities of faith—trans people of faith, LGBTQIA people of faith, and allies and accomplices in the hope-filled work for unity, common ground, and healing the breeches for deeper connection in the work ahead. The group put together three evenings of worship that included music, responsive readings, and preaching, followed by community-building and dessert, culminating with words of remembrance, resistance, and hope on Trans Day of Remembrance, Monday November 20th.

It was a powerful moment in our lives as trans clergy and in the lives of trans folks who came from all over the state to be with us. Over the course of the three nights, there were close to sixty people in attendance altogether. It was such a rich and inspiring time that we are planning to move beyond the context of Trans Day of Remembrance and into having two to four town hall meetings in 2018 to engage in some real talk about what we all need to get free in North Carolina and around the country.

Attached media: https://web.archive.org/web/20211108163915/https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/589767cae58c62ed8ac20bc5/1531164644638-FHX5R1ANJPTPFYZST176/Trans-forming+Proclamation+graphic.png?content-type=image%2Fpng

Celebrating Winter Solstice with the Clearing

1 January 2018 at 23:44

Fittingly, the Clearing’s first collectively-planned service/ritual was a powerful Winter Solstice ritual and gathering, held at The Vault, a black-owned community event space that showcases the art and culture of Durham and is particularly supportive of local organizing efforts among queer and trans people of color. It was a beautiful and heart-opening moment for the community!

The Clearing’s core team, a group of leaders that grew out of the Clearing’s initial community conversations, planned and held the ritual and gathering on Thursday, December 21. Close to fifty people came together to celebrate the longest night of the year and the power and brilliance of darkness—and, afterwards, a delicious meal.

The Clearing solstice altar.jpg

Folks were invited to bring an object for the altar that represented something sacred to them, something they wanted to honor about the solstice, and/or someone they wanted to bring into the space. We shared reflections and poetry primarily from Black and Brown people. We offered time and space for folks to reflect on what they needed to let go of and put in the earth, as well as what they were invested in holding onto to give them what they needed for the new season. And then we shared a wonderful meal. It was magic, not just because it was a really meaningful moment for folks, but because it helped set the tone for more opportunities to gather in worship together in the future.

The Clearing has evolved into a space that encourages folks to show up, be present, share their struggles, successes, challenges, and desires in a safe, supportive environment. We are cultivating and co-creating loving and sustainable spiritual spaces that are anti-racist, anti-capitalist, queer, womanist, feminist, and de-colonized, offering all the folks coming together to move the Clearing from dream to reality something we didn’t anticipate—a chance to make the impossible possible!

Currently, as we share monthly dinners, co-create spaces for ritual, celebration, and healing, and build an evolving team of visionaries and organizers that will continue to breathe life and love and meaning into this community, we are also building beautiful relationships in the community. The Durham Co-op Market, that provides our monthly meals, the LGBTQ Center of Durham, the Vault, and the Radical Healing Collective are all community gathering spaces where queer/trans POC folks have deep roots. We’re excited to keep building and growing and healing together.

Attached media: https://web.archive.org/web/20211108175536/https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/589767cae58c62ed8ac20bc5/1530830619275-4TZOQD1I0M9NH9XM2YY8/The+Clearing+solstice+altar.jpg?content-type=image%2Fjpeg

Centering 1: Darrick Jackson, "Othering and Belonging"

6 January 2018 at 23:08
Rev. Meredith Garmon

A reflection on Darrick Jackson's "Othering and Belonging." Jackson's essay appears in Mitra Rahnema, editor, Centering: Navigating Race, Authenticity, and Power in Ministry (Skinner House, 2017).

The Stress of Being Black

Shortly before I began reading Centering, I heard a story on NPR's Morning Edition that brought home in a particularly poignant way one of the myriad effects of US racial prejudice. The Center for Disease Control has reported on the infant mortality rate per 1,000 live births in 2015. For white nonhispanic Americans, the rate was 4.8%. For Hispanics, it was 5.2%. For black nonhispanic Americans, it was 11.7% -- more than twice the rate for whites. OK, that's appalling. But why is it happening? Is it poverty? Is it genetics? NPR's Rhitu Chaterjee and Rebecca Davis reported:
"Scientists and doctors have spent decades trying to understand what makes African-American women so vulnerable to losing their babies. Now, there is growing consensus that racial discrimination experienced by black mothers during their lifetime makes them less likely to carry their babies to full term." ("How Racism May Cause Black Mothers To Suffer The Death Of Their Infants," Morning Edition, 2017 Dec 20)
The essence of the matter is stress on the mother. Stress causes early labor, thus premature births, thus higher infant mortality. This gives us a very concrete manifestation of the stress of being black in America.
"Even educated, middle-class African-American women were at a higher risk of having smaller, premature babies with a lower chance of survival....Black and white teenage mothers growing up in poor neighborhoods both have a higher risk of having smaller, premature babies. 'They both have something like a 13 percent chance of having a low birth weight baby.'...But in higher-income neighborhoods where women are likely to be slightly older and more educated, 'among white women, the risk of low birth weight drops dramatically to about half of that, whereas for African-American women, it only drops a little bit.' In fact, today, a college-educated black woman is more likely to give birth prematurely than a white woman with a high school degree....Some people suggested that the root cause may be genetics. But if genes are at play, then women from Africa would also have the same risks...[But] babies of immigrant women from West Africa...were more like white babies — they were bigger and more likely to be full term. So, it clearly isn't genetics....[Moreover,] the grandchildren of African immigrant women were born smaller than their mothers had been at birth. In other words, the grandchildren were more likely to be premature, like African-American babies....Meanwhile, the grandchildren of white European immigrant women were bigger than their mothers when they were born....'So, there was something about growing up black in the United States and then bearing a child that was associated with lower birth weight.'...What is different about growing up black in America is discrimination....'It's hard to find any aspect of life that's not impacted by racial discrimination, whether you're talking about applying for a job, or purchasing a new car, finding housing, getting education....' Higher education and income did not necessarily mean people experienced less discrimination....In 2004, David and Collins published a study...in which they reported the connection between a mother's experience of racism and preterm birth. They asked women about their housing, income, health habits and discrimination. 'It turned out that as a predictor of a very low birth weight outcome, these racial discrimination questions were more powerful than asking a woman whether or not she smoked cigarettes.'...Other studies have shown the same results. ("How Racism May Cause Black Mothers To Suffer The Death Of Their Infants," Morning Edition, 2017 Dec 20)
In what does this extra race-based stress consist? For some details, I looked at J.B.W. Tucker's "The Ultimate White Privilege Statistics and Data Post"." A few lowlights:

The stress of being black in America comes from the fact that Blacks are less than 13% of the populations, yet, as best we can tell since many police departments do not report, blacks are 31% of all fatal police shooting victims, and 39% of those killed by police when not attacking. Yes, it's worth remembering that 61% of the "killed by police when not attacking" category are not blacks. Still, the number that are is disproportionate.

The stress of being black in America comes from the fact that young black males, ages 15-19, are 21 times more likely to be to be shot and killed by the police than young white males. Between 2005 and 2008, 80% of NYPD stop-and-frisks were of blacks and Latinos. Only 10% of stops were of whites. 85% of those frisked were black; only 8% were white. Only 2.6% of all stops (1.6 million stops over 3.5 years) resulted in the discovery of contraband or a weapon. Whites were more likely to be found with contraband or a weapon.

The stress of being black in America comes from the fact that blacks (remember, 13% of the U.S. population) are 14% of regular drug users, but are 37% of those arrested for drug offenses, and 56% of those in state prisons for drug offenses.

The stress of being black in America comes from the fact that one in every 15 black men are currently incarcerated, while for white men the statistic is 1 in 106. Prison sentences of black men were nearly 20% longer than those of white men for similar crimes in recent years.

The stress of being black in America comes from the fact that whites are 78% more likely to be accepted to the same university as equally qualified people of color -- and that a black college student has the same chances of getting a job as a white high school dropout. For every dollar a white man makes, white women make 78¢, black men make 72¢, black women make 64¢.

The stress of being black in America comes from Voter ID laws, which do not prevent voter fraud, but do disenfranchise millions of young people, minorities, and elderly, who disproportionately lack the necessary government IDs.

The stress of being black in America comes from news reporting that regards black lives as less significant. African American children comprise 33.2% of missing children cases, but only 19.5% of cases reported in the media.

The stress of being black in America comes from knowing that financial institutions expect to be able to exploit you and take advantage of you. In 2009, bailed-out banks such as Wells Fargo and others were found to have pushed minority borrowers who qualified for prime loans into subprime loans, which can add more than $100,000 in interest payments to a mortgage over the life of the loan. Among high-income borrowers in 2006, African Americans were three times as likely as whites to pay higher prices for mortgages: 32.1% compared to 10.5%. Black car buyers are charged $700 more on average than white car buyers of the same car.

The stress of being black in America comes from consciously or unconsciously racist real estate agents. When looking for a home, black clients looking to buy are shown 17.7% fewer houses for sale, and black renters learn about 11 percent fewer rental units.

The stress of being black in America comes from facing hiring discrimination. In one study thousands of identical resumes were mailed to prospective employers -- identical except only for the name. A black sounding name – say, Daunte Williams instead of David Williams – was 50% less likely to be called back. Fifty percent.

The stress of being black in America comes from a medical establishment and a political establishment that doesn't care about you as much as it does for white folks. Doctors did not inform black patients as often as white ones about the option of an important heart catheterization procedure. White legislators – in both political parties -- did not respond as frequently to constituents with black sounding names.

"The Ultimate White Privilege Statistics and Data Post" has a lot more data . If you don't know it, take a look.

Darrick's Dilemma

It's a good idea to have this reality clearly in mind as one begins reading Centering. Were it not for this reality, then Rev. Derrick Jackson's essay, "Othering and Belonging," which opens the book might seem to be merely Rev. Jackson's statement that his preferences in worship style differ from most other UUs.

Rev. Jackson was raised in the AME Church. When he says, "I often ache for the music that makes my heart soar," he means the kind of music he was used to growing up. Whether Jackson also thinks that this music is objectively better, more heart-soaring, regardless of one's upbringing, isn't entirely clear. That is, is typical UU worship music different from AME worship music because UUs find a different style of music makes their hearts soar, or because UUs prefer not to have their hearts soar in worship? I don't know what Jackson would say, but sometimes he seems to imply the latter:
"Music can evoke a deep spiritual strength in me that helps me transcend the issues and concerns in my life. In worship, it can help me connect with the theme for the service in a visceral way. But most UU hymns feel like vehicles for the words, not for an experience of the holy." (4-5)
The point seems to be more than just that Jackson personally doesn't experience the holy in UU hymns, but that UUs have opted for hymns in which human beings generally will not experience the holy.

The same goes for sermons. UUs "look for sermons that make them think and find sermons that stir the heart lacking" (5). Again: is it that other UUs find their hearts stirred by a different kind of sermon from the kind that stirs Jackson's heart? Or do UUs prefer sermons that don't stir their hearts? Jackson's implication seems to be the latter. When he says "I want to touch the heart, to nurture the soul," he implies that "the intellectual sermon" typical of UUs doesn't do those things.

I suspect Jackson is mostly right about that, but that that's not the whole story. Suppose we grant that  typical UU sermons touch UU worshipers' hearts less than AME sermons touch AME worshipers' hearts. Even so, those UU sermons do touch the hearts and nurture the souls of many listeners more than they do Jackson's -- and a more AME-styled sermon would touch their hearts less than it would  Jackson's.

It's possible, I think, to be both intellectual and heart-stirring. A. Powell Davies' sermons made worshipers think and also quickened their pulses, fortified their spirits, and expanded their souls. Granted, even Davies wasn't universally appealing -- even in his time, and even among worshipers theologically aligned with Davies, some worshipers found the thinking getting in the way of the feeling and would have preferred more feeling. For the great bulk of preachers less gifted than Rev. Davies, the either/or of mind OR emotion/body/spirit is transcended less far and less often. The practical reality is that one side or the other will be emphasized. Sunday after Sunday, the average UU minister leans more to the intellectual than the average AME minister, and the average UU worshiper is less heart-stirred and more mind-stimulated than the average AME worshiper. Is that a bad thing? Or are both groups pretty much getting what they want and what feeds them?

Here's why it's a problem. At the first level, people want both their theological preferences and their worship-style preferences satisfied. If worship-style preferences were the only dividing line among US congregations then having different congregations with different worship styles would be all we needed. But Americans also fall into different theological groupings. People who, like Jackson, have a theology that is liberal but a worship-style preference that is body-experiential and emotive currently have no very satisfactory home. I do believe that Unitarian Universalism must make itself into a more satisfactory home for people like Jackson -- or Unitarian Universalism will (and will deserve to) whither and die.

At the second and deeper level, my phrase "worship-style preference" must now be exposed as misleading. There are worship needs at stake that are not mere preferences. And Jackson's experience cannot be reduced (as, so far, I have been doing -- in order to now expose its reductiveness) to the experience of finding UU worship different from the worship to which he happened to have grown up accustomed. What's at issue isn't just (as it might initially appear) a fond nostalgia for childhood church experiences.

Race is fundamental to all our experience (though whites find this easier to ignore -- that's part of our privilege), and Jackson's experience as a black American is fundamental to his. This is why I began this post with an extended account of the stresses of being black in America. The music and preaching of AME worship is not accidental. Such worship emerged and was sustained because it responded to the needs (not "preferences") of a community under tremendous stress.

Nor is the music and preaching of historically-typical UU worship accidental. It is a response to the needs of people whose bodies are not at risk, who have sufficient physical security to indulge the luxury of philosophical exploration. They -- let me say, we -- may, indeed, find our hearts stirred and souls cultivated (interestingly distinct from "nurtured," isn't it?) by these explorations because we can take for granted a certain basic belongingness. Our experience of alienation and partiality (i.e., not feeling whole) is based more in ideas than in direct threats to our bodies, so our path of healing depends more on engaging with ideas. It's not that the ideas we explore in worship don't touch our hearts and lift our spirits -- for our predominantly white, middle-class congregations, they often do. But (a) they don't do much to touch Darrick Jackson's heart or lift his spirit, and (b) folks like Jackson won't find their hearts much touched or spirits much lifted in worship unless that worship addresses the fundamental stresses to which their lives are subjected.

How Can This Change?

If belongingness is the, or at least a, fundamental psychospiritual need of corporate worship, the belongingness that UU worship has tended to provide for its predominantly white, well-educated congregations is reassurance of a place within the structures of white privilege. Our community-building provides networking for mostly whites. Our pastoral sermons have often assured congregants "you're OK" within a system of unjust privilege.  Our social action has flowed at least partly from an attempt to conscientiously deploy our privileges to "do good" -- and thereby make ourselves feel that we deserve to have these privileges, and are "at home" with them. In short, the belongingness our worship and our congregations have offered is belongingness within white power. (Yes, we have occasionally been able to extend that belongingness to a few people of color -- but this is because the structures of white power themselves admit a few exceptional people of color.)

The challenge is to proffer a different kind of belongingness. At first, we would offer it mostly to white people because those are currently most of the people in our congregations. The new ground of belongingness that I have in mind depends on identifying with -- not just sympathizing or even empathizing with -- the sufferings and stresses of all people. Their suffering is apprehended as my suffering; their stress is understood as my stress.
"All the pains, the joys, the sufferings, the cries of everyone in the universe are as such my own pain, my joy, my suffering, my cry....A straightforward look at our present world as it is will manifest the state of suffering of countless living beings, those suffering in the midst of dehumanizing poverty, where malnourished babies die every minute, and where many continue to die victims of violence both individual and structural. All this is my very own suffering, and my body is racked with pain from all sides. And I cannot remain complacent and unconcerned; I am literally inspired by an inner dynamism to be involved in the alleviation of this pain and suffering, in whatever capacity I am able." (Ruben Habito)
Darrick Jackson observes that UUs tend to find "sermons that stir the heart lacking." Even if we are allowed the qualification that we love sermons that stir our hearts, it's true that we haven't much cared for the kind of worship that is healing for people who live under much greater social stresses than middle-class whites. If we are to become a people who appreciate, who yearn for, who need the kind of worship that theologically liberal American blacks like Rev. Jackson appreciate, yearn for, and need, then we need a theology that takes on the stresses blacks face as our very own. Care, of course, must be taken not to do this appropriatively, and not to claim any of the moral high ground that comes from being a voice of the oppressed. We can't speak or act or judge as, for, or on behalf of the oppressed. We can simply take in the pain and grasp it as our own.

We can revise one of our hymns -- Sarah Dan Jones' "Meditation on Breathing," which goes:
When I breathe in, I breathe in peace.
When I breathe out, I breathe out love
We can replace this with something more like tonglen practice, in which we take in the suffering of ourselves and others on the in-breath, and on the out-breath send back compassion to ourselves and all who suffer. A single word change yields:
When I breathe in, I breathe in pain.
When I breath out, I breathe out love.
After about 10 minutes of chanting that, even white UUs with PhDs might be ready and eager for the most joyful, emotive, embodied, lively, shouting and dancing worship that Darrick Jackson could imagine.

And if not, well, it would still be a start.

Centering for Freedom

20 January 2018 at 23:20
Rev. LoraKim Joyner, DVM

I was born into a racist culture and family – specifically in Atlanta, Georgia. We moved to Northern Virginia in 1968, only a few months before Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. was assassinated. My parents enrolled me in Louise Archer Elementary School an all African American school, founded in a black neighborhood mostly fenced off from white suburbs. I started only a few months after the school had been desegregated and I was in the first batch of white children to attend.

I found myself making friends quickly Thea, who I invited home so that we could practice a school play. She lived nearby, but on that the other side of that fence, which we climbed to get to my house. My mother came home from work and saw us playing in the living room and told me to get Thea to leave. As soon as she left my mother slapped my face and said, "Don’t you ever bring another _______ into this house again.

My family has a lot of work to do and so do I to combat that training of seeing more worth in some than others, undoing the fear that I would be loved less if I thought any differently. Though my example is more extreme than many, none of us escape this enculturation.

My family is not just my biologic nuclear family, but it is my cultural family anchored here in the USA. I didn't know how that family had trained me into a dominating colonizing culture until I started to work in Latin America. I consulted with the Puerto Rican Parrot Recovery project. Once a million of these lived on the island precolonization, but by 1973, only 14 remained

The indigenous people were long gone due to European colonization, and the parrot nearly went extinct due to the large deforestation of the island after the USA invasion and colonization in 1898. The USA collapsed the Puerto Rican economy and put sugar cane all over the island. Due to extreme efforts the parrot numbers somewhat rebounded. But the recent hurricanes this late summer, Irma and Maria, devastated the people and the parrots there, vulnerable due to past and ongoing extraction economies, and instutionalized racist business, taxation, and aid practices.

My human, USA family has a lot of work to do, and so do I because I benefited and continue to do so at the cost of the many. None of us escapes the work to stop this extraction and domination economy that marginalizes and colonizes.

I responded to the work my human family and I had to do by taking up the call to UU Ministry. My sense of family grew to incorporate Unitarian Universalism. While preparing for the ministry I learned the long, hard, and painful history of how Unitarian Universalists had made many mistakes in how people of color were treated in our movement, as evidenced by this book, multiple painful episodes since, and ongoing ones as evidences in this book.

My UU family has a lot of work to do. I know this because I am at the forefront of a UU movement to understand how what harms animals, also harms humans. We ask how extending our sense of the inherent worth and dignity to individuals of all species helps humans too. This work brings up the pain and loss of how deficient UUs have been with people, as well as other species. This is uncomfortable, painful, and stressful, and it seems that none of us can say or do the right thing. Sound like fun? It is hard, but there is a tang of freedom in the air. You are invited to join us as various possible denominational change, votes, and study groups are coming in the future, including reading this book. My family is doing the work, and we need to do more, for we have not won freedom yet

Our work for freedom means addressing intersectionality. Intersectionality means that oppression is experienced differently based on our various identities. Women experience oppression differently than men, and blacks different from whites, and hence black women experience oppression from being both black and female. The corollary is also true - we benefit from a system that oppressed others based on our identities and locations of privilege. I am white human North American from the lower middle class -this gives me privileges that others have, and oppressions that others don’t have.

Intersectionality also means that there are core oppressions that intersect all identities. Some call this core oppression patriarchy, which isn't really about men, so relax guys. It is a culture based on seeing different others as less than, which is tied to dominance, power over, white supremacy, and inequality, all of which catch each of us in a sticky web of harm and benefit.

What does the work of intersectionality look like?

First off, it is not shame or blame or pointing fingers at who oppresses more or is oppressed more. We all are enculturated to be oppressors and oppressed. We are not to blame, but we are responsible. All of us.

The world has lived with 500 years of modernity and colonization to hide the reality that we are inextricably tied to one another and all life in beauty, tragedy, and death. "Wishing for life at any price continuously calls forth death - the death of other people, other beings, the extinguishing of languages, ideas cultures, and worst of all, possibilities and degrees of freedom" (Andrea Weber). We all are trapped. Our work for freedom is undoing the core oppression for our co-liberation. For this liberation we must learn to live without fear and to die courageously.

This is a death of individualism so that all are centered. In the circle of life, the suffering of another is also ours. In the countries I work in Latin America there is constant evidence of the devastation of colonialism and USA foreign policy. The people I work with, descendants of disappeared indigenous cultures and slaves, and the dearth of wildlife, do not let me forget it. But I am so alive there for it takes everything I’ve got to show up and be vulnerable. What began as a wound ends in a caressing touch. I’m undone and then made whole.

The work for freedom means we center the marginalized voices. Our individualism dies every time we allow another to speak. And we are born again.

We must center what we marginalize within ourselves. Miki Kashton, a leader in Nonviolent Communication, told me a few weeks ago to not believe a thing you grew up thinking or doing, for it was all based on core oppressions. We need to lay aside the armor that doesn't protect us, but fetters us. Let us lay that burden down.

We must center ourselves in history, ecology, and biology. We must look at past societal practices and how we have been harmed and benefited. Thanks goodness for our neuroplastic brains which are ready to believe that power over is the only way to meet our needs, but can also learn that cooperation and co-liberation brings flourishing to many lives. We must accept that we will die and no level of control will stop that. We must embrace t reality - to accept all that is now and also, paradoxically, do everything in our power to change it. We are so powerful in freedoms return embrace.

I am glad that this month's theme for our journey groups is resilience because we tread a fragile path of feeling shame, separation, and oppression, but there is joy lurking in that journey. We can take a beginning step by sharing our social location when we meet with others, without shame or blame, being honest of our privilege and oppression. We confess. Here is an example.

My name is LoraKim Joyner. I identify as a white human heterosexual female of European descent raised in the southern USA in the lower middle class, 2 generations from Alabama sharecroppers, currently living outside of NY City. My childhood was full of experiences and hard lessons taught from family, friends, the surrounding society, and a dominant oppressive culture that acculturated within me the trappings of privilege, white domination, human domination, as well as victimhood. I am also a mother and grandmother of people who identify as of European/indigenous descent from Honduras. My work in the world is as conservationist throughout Latin America, wildlife veterinarian, Unitarian Universalist minister, and a Compassionate Communication trainer and practitioner.

All of this history and categories of oppression and oppressor cannot be unwoven from my relationships. They form me but they do not bind me. We can help each other loose these chains of bondage by sharing how my message and this congregation intersect with your identities, experiences, and locations of oppression and privilege.

I am held rapt by the power and hope of freedom won together, for none are free until all are free. My father in his older years nearly died of heart failure, but miraculously a heart match was found for him quickly. He was a small man so the heart of an African descent girl who had died in a car accident became his. My parents were grateful, and softened.

Let us not let death, or the fear of death, keep us from giving our hearts to one another.

Deportation: One Man's Tragedy in the Age of Trump

28 January 2018 at 15:39
Pansy Valdez
©Steve Pavey, Hope in Focus



When I returned from the hotel breakfast buffet, Keeland and Pansy were still sleeping on the bedroom side of the suite, but Eric was awake, looking at the news on his phone, and looking uncomfortable on the skinny sofa bed mattress we’d finally pulled off the broken springs and laid on the floor the night before. Benjamin’s asylum hearing, the reason we four had journeyed to cold and, now, snowy Chicago wasn’t until one p.m., so I suggested to my husband that he and I go somewhere for the morning.



          He got dressed and met me in the lobby, where I sat looking out at the still-festooned wrought iron railings and the shops across the way being dusted with a feathery snow. It was so evocative of Christmas, although we were now several days into January. But nothing about this was in any way festive. From the visit to the Valdez’ lawyer back in Kentucky with Pansy, to the time I’d spent reading the English version of the Documentos para Detenidos, I had a feeling that the odds were not good that Big Daddy (the name by which everyone in our town of Springfield knew Benjamin) would be released today.



          Indeed, even if by some miracle he prevailed with his plea for asylum, the Immigration and Customs Enforcement (ICE) attorney could appeal, and was likely to, so the chances of him leaving seemed nil.



          Earlier, over coffee and generic omelet at the Marriot buffet, I’d skimmed the things to doofferings, and discovered the Garfield Park Conservatory. It wasn’t close, but it was free, so if we took an Uber, we’d be able to stroll there awhile and get some warmth and color on this bleak and foreboding morning.





          We both love plants and flowers. A major in Natural Resources, Eric knows much more about the scientific and botanical angle, but I appreciate the aesthetic and poetic properties of flowers, trees, and grasses. On this early January day, the Christmas display remained in a large hall, a massive creation of red and a smaller number of yellow poinsettias, interspersed with carefully chosen and placed charred wooden stalks, aptly titled Fire and Ice. I contemplated the destructive yet wondrous beauty of flames; Eric marveled that each of those limbs had to be charred painstakingly by hand. Perhaps meant to evoke the destruction and awesomeness of the recent conflagrations in the West, it filled a room with red and almost enveloped the viewer. In Buddhist thought, we might call this the jewel in the lotus.



          But it was our stroll through the desert plants that pricked my heart. We passed one plant after another: the allspice, the white zinnia, the Thompson’s yucca, all native to Mexico. I studied their leaves and spines, their colors, vibrant yellows and greens that must be a balm in Central America’s desert regions. All these plants, while indigenous to Mexico, can also be found in Texas, other South western states, and in Central America. No wall or border guard stops them from entering another country. In fact, here they are, in frigid downtown Chicago, being coddled and celebrated, in a museum. People admire and remark upon their qualities and unique abilities to adapt and thrive.



About a week after the hearings, I attended the AME Zion Church in Springfield, and this was the text. The sermon's title was What Are You Worried About?"

And why take ye thought for raiment? Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they toil not, neither do they spin:
And yet I say unto you, That even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like one of these.

Wherefore, if God so clothe the grass of the field, which today is and tomorrow is cast into the oven, shall he not much more clothe you, o ye of little faith?


Therefore take no thought,saying, What shall we eat? Or what shall we drink? or Wherewithal shall we be clothed?
..... for your Heavenly Father knoweth that ye have need of all these things.
But seek ye first the kingdom of God, and his righteousness, and all these things shall be added unto you.
Take therefore no thought for the morrow for the morrow shall take thought for the things of itself. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof. Mt 6:28-34

I've always loved this passage, and when I heard it after Benjamin's trial, it resonated with my witness of his profound and unwavering faith.


When we returned to the hotel, Pansy and Pupcake (Keeland's nickname) were ready to go to the hearing. Pupcake came out of the bedroom wearing a sweet black and white dress with leotards and a hair bow in her pony tail. “I got dressed up for my dad,” she said proudly.



I didn’t know what Pansy had told her about the hearing, or if she knew that Benjamin was in jail. That is, in the general population, not in a special detention for undocumented immigrants or any such thing. But she probably did. Her birth mother had been in and out of jail, so even though she was immature in many ways, she knew a lot more than many twelve-year-olds. The thought of her being dressed up and excited and then seeing him coming in wearing an orange jumpsuit and handcuffs upset me. Still, I knew that being upset visibly would not help anyone. I tried to keep a playful, non-anxious attitude throughout the trip. Part of me still felt a foreboding about Big Daddy’s chances. O ye of little faith.



We took an Uber to the Immigration Detention Courthouse. Pansy had offered to cover the costs of the trip, and when I told her we’d pay for our expenses, she insisted. Hence, I tried to keep everything as inexpensive as I could. Neither she nor Eric quite understood how Uber worked, so when I explained that the fee went to my credit card, she offered to my pay me, but I told her not to worry. We’d settle later.



I’ve been in jails and detention centers, prisons and courtrooms before, as a minister, as a mother. I know that once you pass through the revolving doors or enter the lobby of the facility, your own freedom is circumscribed. You obey commands, you give up your rights, you will be submissive, or you’ll be ejected or imprisoned yourself. Pupcake didn’t seem distressed about this round of metal detectors and searches. I guessed she’d visited Adrianne, her birth mother, in jail.Even though she presented as much younger than her eleven years, she'd seen a lot. Adrianne had died of a drug overdose just a few months earlier. I am certain she never went through an airport. Everything about being in the city was new and astounding to her.



Led to the small room where Benjamin’s testimony would be heard, we took our seats. I sat next to Pansy, in view of the far door from which Benjamin would emerge. She wore a jewel green top which crossed at the bodice, and her usual assortment of rings and bracelets. Like Pupcake, she’d dressed up for her husband. In minutes, we saw orange, and Big Daddy was at the glass window of the door. For the first time in six months, husband and wife saw one another. I saw only the love and delight on Benjamin’s face. “Oh my, he’s so thin,” Pansy whispered, and I saw that she was holding back tears. She called Pupcake over from the right side of the room, where she had started to work on homework with Eric, and I moved then. I recall being relieved that Benjamin was wearing a sweatshirt-type hoodie which, while still orange, looked less prisoner-like than the jumpsuit alone. It took about three or four minutes’ preparation; Benjamin’s lawyer was sitting in place as was the translator, a young woman who seemed to know the guards, the judge, and the lawyer. We'd been told the judge might be on CCTV rather than in person, but I was surprised that the back of the TV was to us, and he faced only Benjamin, the lawyer, and the translator. The guard brought Benjamin in. He was being detained at Kankakee, IL, so he’d been brought here from about one hour away.



The testimony lasted for about an hour and a half to two hours. I lost track of time. The judge asked Benjamin a litany of questions, followed by cross-examination from the Immigration attorney. From where we were seated, we could only see Benjamin, the lawyer, the translator and the back of the marshal, who I assumed came from Kankakee. He wore street clothes, did not appear to have a weapon, and sat slouched the entire time, chewing and picking at his fingernails. This habit distracted me on several occasions. I wondered if he was anxious or if this was just a tic or habit he resorted to when bored. The viciousness with which he bit and tore at them made me wonder what shape they were in. But most of all, I thought about how tedious this was for him. 



Meanwhile, Benjamin was given ample time to tell his story. He endeavored to explain to the judge why he should be granted asylum. Asylum is not an easy plea. The plaintiff must show that he or she is in imminent danger of being killed or tortured if returned to their country of origin.



Here is Benjamin’s story:

Benjamin Valdez-Gonzalez was born in Veracruz, Mexico in March of 1960. He is 57 years old. He first entered the US in the 1990s but has been deported once, in 2007. He has lived and worked in the US almost continuously for more than twelve years. He’s never been arrested or convicted of a crime in Mexico, the US, or any other country. He’s been married to a US citizen, Pansy Coleman Valdez, for over eleven years. Pansy and her family have lived in the same town in Kentucky for generations dating back to slavery.

When Benjamin was living in Veracruz, he was shot through the chest by police in a case of mistaken identity. He was hospitalized for eight days, and he nearly died. This is important to understanding his primary fear of return, because the police in Vera Cruz are corrupt, as is the entire government. One only needs to read/watch the news to find out about this. His home town, Panuco, sitting as it does on the border, is one of the most dangerous. Veracruz is currently the most deadly and dangerous state ruled by the cartels, namely the Zetas. The legitimate fear Benjamin has is that he would be killed or kidnapped for ransom because he has lived and worked in the US for so long, and it is known that he has money, or has access to money, since he has a wife and other family members here.

He cannot depend upon the police for protection. They are corrupt. He cannot just live somewhere else. “It is the same everywhere,” are his words.


After listening to Benjamin tell his story, I felt briefly that the judge might have mercy. It was clear to me that he showed legitimate reasons to be fearful. Still, in the back of my mind, I thought about the guidelines I had read, and I knew that the threat had to be something more imminent.



And the cross examination verified this. The ICE attorney pressed Benjamin on several small discrepancies between his interview and this testimony he just gave. She then went on to hammer home the point that being shot mistakenly twenty-some years ago did not constitute or could not be the basis for an immediate threat. She pointed out that he could live and work elsewhere in Mexico.



And so we had our ruling. The judge never saw Pansy, who sat tall and focused upon her husband throughout the hearing. She was behind the camera. He never saw Pupcake, who moved back and forth from her seat near Eric and me to a seat next to her mom, wearing her pretty dress she’d chosen for her Big Daddy. He never saw my husband and me, and he certainly didn’t see Big Daddy’s community, his church, the way he has mentored and taught men in the jail with hymns and Bible lessons, his garden at home in Springfield, the tobacco farms on which he labored in the summer swelter or the fine work he has done as a foreman. He didn’t see how harrowing this is for Benjamin’s small family, especially for Pupcake, who will have no one to take her to the pool like he did, to run to when she’s hurt, or to call her “Princess.”



He just saw another name, another number, and he did his job. He did say he found Benjamin "credible."


After the hearing, Pansy and Pupcake were able to visit Big Daddy through glass in a room equipped with phones and cubicles. They couldn’t hug or touch, but they had a long time to talk and made the decision to file an appeal. Benjamin told Pansy he was happy, he was fine, and if he had to leave he would be okay. It was for her he was fighting the deportation. I think what he was saying is that if it was God’s plan, he would accept it. He’d find a way back.




A few weeks later, I was at my Thursday night meditation group. Our teacher, who is both Christian/Catholic and Buddhist, was talking with us about the head/heart metaphor. He said that the Buddhist monk Thich Nhat Hanh’s first impression of Americans was that we are too full of thoughts. He talked about the Buddhist chant om mane pame hum, and how, while it is translated “the jewel in the lotus,” it is also referring to the heart, to the place that can only be reached by the journey of introspection and contemplative practice.



In the room in which we sit are many icons and representations from various religions and schools of thought, from a beaded curtain of the Mona Lisa to a print of the Lord’s Prayer in Aramaic. New to me was a bust of the Christ with his finger pointing to the sacred heart. It was much like those you can see in South America or on kitschy candles in Mexican groceries. The robes of Christ are open, and the wounded heart is revealed.



My thoughts went immediately to Benjamin. In his testimony, as he talked about the gunshot wound he received long ago, he added in (and the translator told us) “But I knew that God wanted me to stay alive.” The judge didn’t ask him how he knew that or what it meant. Just the facts.



The marshal chewed at his cuticles. Pansy sat stoically, still and erect, never taking her eyes from her beloved Big Daddy.



Nonetheless, he continued, “the reason I know that I wasn’t meant to die that day is because the police shot me through the left side of my chest where the heart is supposed to be. Do you want me to show you?” And he raised his hands toward his heart, and for the first time we could see clearly that they were manacled.



The judge indicated that he didn’t need to see the scar, and Benjamin continued: “You see, my heart is not on the left. My heart is on the right side of my chest. So God wanted me to live.”








PLEASE Share Links Below TO A PETITION FOR BENJAMIN's APPEAL & A YOUCARING FUNDRAISER FOR THE VALDEZ FAMILY..

FUNDRAISER CLICK HERE!

SIGN THE PETITION CLICK HERE!


FOLLOWING ARE LINKS TO STORIES ABOUT KIDNAPPING OF MIGRANTS WHO RETURN, the ZETAS in VERACRUZ, and the POLICE CORRUPTION IN MEXICO:

KIDNAPPING THREAT

THE MISSING and the MASS GRAVES

HUMAN RIGHTS WATCH

VERACRUZ UNDER COMPLETE CONTROL OF ZETAS

WHERE ARE THE CHILDREN

          

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What You Don't Want to Know....

19 February 2018 at 15:33
Seth and Pupcake after his birthday dinner

Keeland, whose nickname is "Pupcake," couldn't come to Seth's party at Chuck-e-Cheese because she's terrified of Chuckie. She's twelve, like Seth was before his birthday, and she's not autistic, but she has lots of learning disabilities and delays.So, she texted him and invited him to dinner a few days later at the Mexican restaurant. He was so excited!

They're alike in so many ways. The biggest one is that they are both "younger" than their numerical age. Some of her favorite Christmas presents, besides baby dolls, were some huge squeaky toys shaped like doughnuts, bagels, and other goodies. They were like anxiety-easing tools for her. She brought them over once, and when I peeked in to see how she and Seth were doing in the study, they were chatting away and both were playing with the giant pastries. 

Seth asked her to marry him, but we've had to explain that it would be much better to have a good friend than to try to have a girlfriend and scare her away! 

She loves school, even though the work is a challenge. I could see, when we stopped by at lunch time, so that Steve, our photographer on our Black History Project (see his work at Photos for Springfield Project ) could get a portrait of her, that she had a group of friends and was having fun.


c. Steve Pavey, Hope in Focu

It is understandable that Pupcake would have fears and anxieties. Her early years, before Pansy and Benjamin took her as a foster child, were chaotic and traumatic. I do not know all of the details, but I know she suffered neglect, abuse, and abandonment. Her biological mother was in and out of jail for drug-related issues and died just a few months ago from a drug overdose. I heard a man testify that he drove the mother to an assignation with a client and sat in the car with Keeland while the mother went in and served as a prostitute. The man who her mother was living with had been charged several times with domestic violence. This is why Pansy and Benjamin fought so desperately to have sole custody of her.

Pizza in Chicago!

When Pupcake, Pansy, Eric and I traveled to Chicago for Benjamin's hearing on asylum, I got to know Pupcake a little better. She'd never really traveled or been to a big city. Even though she understood the situation with her Dad, which is how she thinks of Benjamin, was difficult, she  hoped, as did Pansy, that he would prevail this time and Benjamin would be released. But it was not to be. She dressed up and fixed her hair with a pretty headband and was delighted when she saw him. She sat through the hours long hearing. She sat in the cubbyhole with Pansy where they were permitted to talk face-to-face (through a glass) with him. But I never saw her break down and cry or show despair. Either she didn't understand the impact of the setback, or she just had a numbness to the pain, or some of each.


Later, we were talking, and Pansy shared with me that among other diagnoses, Keeland/Pupcake had been diagnosed with Radical Attachment Disorder (RAD). It made sense that she would have this disorder, given what I knew about her early years. 

Still, she has a strong, albeit anxious, attachment to Pansy. She panics if Pansy is out of sight, and gets very worried about her is she doesn't feel well or if she is upset. 

Benjamin was a strong, steadying influence on Pupcake. He took her swimming and to other activities. She loves to be outdoors and he was out with her, working in his garden and in the yard. He's protective of her. Or, I should say, he was.

Because, by all indications, Benjamin will not be coming back to Pansy and Pupcake.

Like thousands of other immigrants, he's on the verge of being deported.

I know it would be easier for you to think that he must have committed crimes, or that he should have expected this, or that they shouldn't have gotten married. But the reality is that American farmers and companies created work for and hired people like Benjamin for decades because they are good, hard workers. The reality is that they came here and came back because they face danger or kidnapping at home. The reality is that Benjamin has no criminal record. Until this administration gave ICE the current orders, he would never have been deported.Stories Like Benjamin's

Have you ever put yourself in the shoes of a Mexican citizen living in a dangerous state? Have you ever wondered whether you'd try to go north to do better, live more safely, find a better way? The only "crime" Benjamin committed was trying to better himself. He's a great worker, community member, and church-going Christian. And our government, yours and mine, is spending tens of thousands to keep him in prison for months.  What is okay about this?



Another reality is that most Americans (who seems to have empathy for DACA recipients but not for people like Pansy... or as Benjamin told her, "No one cares about us. You're Black and I'm Mexican.") are going about their business without a thought for the inhumane and unjust treatment of families.


You can help Pansy, Pupcake and Benjamin. He's been incarcerated for six months. His health is failing. The appeals and legal challenges have cost thousands. Bills have mounted as Benjamin was the sole support for the family.  Even a small donation will help! They want you to know how grateful they are. CLICK HERE TO DONATE.

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WHAT WE MEAN WHEN WE SAY "LOVE"

3 March 2018 at 14:41
Sign at the Sisters of Loretto Motherhouse in Nerinx, Kentucky



My first reaction when I saw the sign at the Motherhouse, a sign that has stood for years, well before the current crisis for immigrants and DACA recipients, was to marvel at how it resembled the Black Lives Matter sign my congregation in New Jersey had posted, repaired, and reposted, numerous times, after it was defiled, run over, painted over, and destroyed. Each time, we chose to leave it up for a good while as an uncomfortable witness: this is how far people will go with hate.

In this deeply Catholic community, even the words of Christ can't be protected from vandals when it comes to hate.







Earlier this week, the Sisters of Loretto and the Dominican sisters of St. Catharine held a vigil in solidarity with DACA recipients and other victims of the mass deportations. Pansy and Pupcake and  I were encouraged to come. Then on Saturday night, they organized a dinner, at which the Lantinx community and allies were invited, and spread amongst the tables, where we were able to tell our stories while we were deeply listened to. Above is Sister Elaine des Rosiers, a special friend of mine, whom I met about five years ago at a Buddhist group I attend, chatting with Pupcake.




Pansy tells her story to the Sisters

It was one of the most lovely evenings I've had in quite some time. Have you ever been deeply listened to? If so, you know what it means. The gift of love, acceptance, community, prayers, camaraderie, hope and shared empathy has boosted Pansy's spirits immeasurably. Working together with the Dreamers has helped her feel less isolated.

I think she'd feel more encouraged by 500 gifts of $1 than by one gift of $500. She's well aware that people "love" the Dreamers, but for some reason don't "love" her or Big Daddy (Benjamin.) Why?


Members of the Democratic Women's Club at the Vigil



One of the Dreamers from our community speaks to the Press.



Pansy and Keeland (Pupcake) at the Vigil


Vigil at the St. Catharine Motherhouse.

One of the things we've talked about a great deal is how much the current situation is like the Holocaust, the Internment of the Japanese, or the Trail of Tears and forced imprisonment of Native Americans on reservations. If you think, "No, it's not as bad" ... please examine your thoughts. Just like in slavery, families will be torn apart. Just like in the Holocaust, people will be killed. No, not as dramatically, but in many ways, slowly and sporadically, as they are targeted by the cartels who prey on those who have been in the US for long periods. 

Our country has lured immigrants from Central America (and elsewhere) here with low-paying jobs, and have taken advantage of their work ethic, their desperation to feed their families back home, and their terror of returning to places that are overrun with deadly gangs and cartels. And yet, we turn our backs on them when our government decides to treat them worse than animals. Benjamin has been IN PRISON for seven months, although he has no criminal record. 

So, you are not in favor of this? You love all people the same? Even Black and Brown people?

Nine people have contributed to help Pansy's family in this crisis. It may not be as harsh as the hole in the sign, but it speaks volumes. What do we mean when we say, "love"?

Another way to help is to donate to Dollars for the Dream via United We Dream on Facebook. It will be so deeply appreciated. Even if you can't or won't, pause and think with gratitude on the freedoms you have every day.

Words
by John Keene

When you said people did you mean punish?
         When you said friend did you mean fraud?
When you said thought did you mean terror?
         When you said connection did you mean con?
When you said God did you mean greed?
         When you said faith did you mean fanatic?
When you said hope did you mean hype?
         When you said unity did you mean enmity?
When you said freedom did you mean forfeit?
         When you said law did you mean lie?
When you said truth did you mean treason?
         When you said feeling did you mean fool?
When you said together did you mean token?
         When you said desire did you mean desert?
When you said sex did you mean savagery?
         When you said need did you mean nought?
When you said blood did you mean bought?
         When you said heart did you you hard?
When you said head did you mean hide?
         When you said health did you mean hurt?
When you said love did you mean loss?
         When you said fate did you mean fight?
When you said destiny did you mean decimate?
         When you said honor did you mean hunger?
When you said bread did you mean broke?
         When you said feast did you mean fast?
When you said first did you mean forgotten?
         When you said last did you mean least?
When you said woman did you mean wither?
         When you said man did you mean master?
When you said mother did you mean smother?
         When you said father did you mean fatal?
When you said sister did you mean surrender?
         When you said brother did you mean brutal?
When you said fellow did you mean follow?
         When you said couple did you mean capital?
When you said family did you mean failure?
         When you said mankind did you mean market?
When you said society did you mean sickness?
         When you said democracy did you mean indignity?
When you said equality did you mean empty?
         When you said politics did you mean power?
When you said left did you mean lost?
         When you said right did you mean might?
When you said republic did you mean rich?
         When you said wealthy did you mean wall?
When you said poor did you mean prison?
         When you said justice did you mean just us?
When you said immigrant did you mean enemy?
         When you said refugee did you mean refusal?
When you said earth did you mean ownership?
         When you said soil did you mean oil?
When you said community did you mean conflict?
         When you said safety did you mean suspicion?
When you said security did you mean sabotage?
         When you said army did you mean Armageddon?
When you said white did you mean welcome?
         When you said black did you mean back?
When you said yellow did you mean yield?
         When you said brown did you mean down?
When you said we did you mean war?
         When you said you did you mean useless?
When you said she did you mean suffer?
         When you said he did you mean horror?
When you said they did you mean threat?
         When you said I did you mean island?
When you said tribe did you mean trouble?
         When you said name did you mean nobody?
When you said news did you mean nonsense?
         When you said media did you mean miasma?
When you said success did you mean sucker?
         When you said fame did you mean game?
When you said ideal did you mean idol?
         When you said yesterday did you mean travesty?
When you said today did you mean doomsday?
         When you said tomorrow did you mean never?
When you said hear did you mean hush?
         When you said listen did you mean limit?
When you said write did you mean wound?
         When you said read did you mean retreat?
When you said literacy did you mean apathy?
         When you said fiction did you mean forget?
When you said poetry did you mean passivity?
            When you say art do you mean act?




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A three-choice question that explains America

5 March 2018 at 19:23
By: jimfoti

Being an assistant minister puts me in a small, unusual club. It’s a bit like being vice president — a high-visibility job with a not-always-clear role. Most second-chair clergy I know are content to be there, rather than itching for the top dog to get out of the way. Still, there’s plenty to talk about when we get together.

At one recent gathering, a fellow No. 2, the Rev. Erin Gingrich, captured our situation with a question: How does your supervisor view you — object, resource, or equal?

This incisive question could apply to any number of situations; the answer determines how much you’re going to thrive. And I realized that it’s a question that can help explain the history and present reality of the United States of America.

Object, resource, or equal: How have you and your ancestors been treated? Are you seen as equally human? To what extent have your people thrived?

When Europeans began to invade this land — many of them persecuted themselves — they viewed Native Americans primarily as objects to be removed, like so many boulders or stumps in a farm field. This was brutal practice for centuries, with racist theology and political viewpoints backing it up. Occasionally, native peoples were considered resources, as helpers, for knowing how to survive on this continent. But mostly they were, and in many minds still are, seen as savages, heathens, not fully human, certainly not equals.

Africans brought over in the hulls of ships were also treated as objects, tools to extract wealth from those fields cleared of trees, stones, and other humans. When slavery ended, African Americans were objects to be ghettoized, terrorized, incarcerated, and killed. As the grim numbers remind us, equality has never come close to being achieved.

If you’ve had a relatively pleasant American life, it can be unsettling to accept that we live in a country built on domination, on hierarchies, on people acting on each other rather than with each other. But “one nation” is an unfulfilled imagining.

Umair Haque boldly suggests that we are a country of people who punch down and have always done so, passing on the persecution that wave after wave of European emigrants suffered. Hurt people hurt people — the abused become abusers. True egalitarianism is not believed in, or even desired. Those people are not my equals. Why share, when you think you have a chance to conquer?

Individual good behavior or piety is not the solution to the longstanding pattern of American objectification. The whole system subverts human flourishing and has, among other things, comforted poor whites for centuries with the idea that at least they’re not black. The hierarchies of race and racism were invented to support predatory capitalism.

And the strategy is still working, every day.

The black president’s every achievement must be negated or undone, to restore the hierarchy, for the upending made too many whites uneasy. We are encouraged to fear and look down upon our neighbors — to buy guns, turn to authoritarian leaders for false security, to surrender liberties, to avert our eyes when Gestapo-like raids take the immigrants next door.

Racism is the demon child of greed, and there is so much money to be made, in profit and in political donations, by the fostering of inequality, in the fueling of fear.

It’s news to some and deadly obvious to others that the United States has never functioned any other way — that, as Langston Hughes put it, “America never was America to me.” I’ve seen people of good conscience become overwhelmed when learning the histories they were never taught.

But “there is no prize for meaning well,” as the Rev. Theresa Soto says. There is no end in sight for the empathy shortage for people of color — witness the disparity in public support for Black Lives Matter vs. the white, more privileged teen survivors in Florida.

Empathy is a great personal attribute to have, but as Bree Newsome explains, empathy is not actually the answer to eliminating the ways that our country is structured to benefit white people. Empathy never has been the main driver of justice. If simply living in proximity and getting to know each other led to liberation, slavery would have lasted a week, and men would have regarded women as equals millennia ago.

Electoral change is crucial and must be a focus this year. The systems in place are capable of some level of reform. But they are largely self-perpetuating in their hierarchies (see: the race/gender/wealth composition of Congress). So we should expect some continued nonviolent disruption to force a shifting in, and sharing of, power.

Elevating America’s oppressed peoples out of object status and toward true equality is the work of generations. That the newest generation of young activists understands the connectedness of the work is a bright spot in our nation’s swirling storm.

 

THOUGHTS ON "DISMANTLING RACISM" in 2018

10 March 2018 at 15:27

A colleague, whom I consider a front-line soldier in the fight for racial justice, asked a question on Facebook and tagged me. I needed a minute to contemplate her important question. Here it is:


"Looking for helpful, compelling descriptions of what it means to "do the work" of dismantling racism. Who's got one?"


Dear Barbara,


This may be neither helpful nor compelling! 







  I live in a very rural, agrarian, poor county in Kentucky. The county seat, however, is almost one-quarter people of color (primarily Black, descendants of the original slaves). What makes this place unusual is that, because of its isolation, virtually every Black family could trace its ancestry (if there were resources to do so) back to slaves owned by almost every White family.

I've written, with the community, a book/project about this, and invite you to read the original draft. It will change considerably over the coming years, as we add more photos, and incorporate more interviews, including audio from those folks we've talked with. www.thespringfieldproject.blogspot.com


(I don't have a space for comments on the blog. If you read the book, you may contact me at cyncain@gmail.com)


The phrase "work" troubles me a bit. I've asked myself why. I know we talk about doing "dreamwork" or "spiritual work" or "working on ourselves." For me, this process of confronting and addressing, of acknowledging racism within ourselves as well as within nearly every system and organization in this society is demanding, yes; it is painful, yes; it can be overwhelming. But is more than work. Calling it "doing the Work" somehow implies that we know the steps, how to do them, what comes, next, what succeeds. I submit that Anti-racism is a life-long calling for which some are summoned, and we may never know why. It is a passion, a heartbreak, an art, and a joy. This has never been more clear to me than when, after being employed to do social justice, including anti-racism, as well as pastoral ministry, I continued to do everything I had before, write, read, pray, listen, speak,  dream, contemplate, and much more with no salary at all after I left the church. 


It may be that when we no longer know what to do, we have come to our real work and when we no longer know which way to go, we have begun our real journeyWendell Berry, Kentucky Farmer




The word dismantling has some important connotations, and I can see why it has been widely employed by white folks who endeavor to systematically end racism. It implies that something will be taken apart step-by-step, with a methodical coolness. Certainly racism is structural, so there is something to be said for an analysis that acknowledges looking at the deep underlying pillars and beams that uphold it. A thorough understanding of the history of racism, the ways it has been woven into the cultural and institutional as well as the psychological fabric of our society, is crucial. 


But racism, as pernicious and pervasive as it has proven to be, will not last forever. As much as (some) millennial and Gen X folk would like to kick us Boomers to the side (I've experienced this!) and get on with their own wisdom, we may know a thing or two. It was, after all, we who birthed and raised them to be as accepting, open-minded, and in many cases, anti-racist as they are. No, we didn't fix racism (or much of anything else). But we have some good ideas, and some of us have money, connections, and other assets and talents that we could share if you'd welcome us to the work/joy.


I disagree with the gentleman who said you can't do this alone. This spiritual battle for the souls of the world is being fought in many places: the arts, small, isolated communities where a group of liberal white people would be shunned and get nowhere, one-on-one in Bible studies, coffee houses, construction sites, the streets of Baltimore, in Congress, and even in classrooms. It's not likely to be systematic. It can best be understood by reading about chaos theory and also Joanna Macy's Coming Back to Life:   read her rendering of the shambhala warrior prophecy



I also recommend the work (there's that word!) of Michael Eric Dyson, especially Tears We Cannot Stop: A Sermon to White America, who writes about "individual reparations." This has been a powerful incentive for me of recent years. Dyson on individual reparations

More important, to me, than whether one acts alone or with a group is whether one has a spiritual practice. As in Buddhism it is expected that the adherent have a sangha and a teacher, and in recovery a sponsor, one ought in anti-racist activities, have a church, spiritual director, and/devotional practice.  Especially for white people, to whom I am speaking here, always de-centering one self and one's ego and motivations are extremely important.


What I see most challenging today, Barbara, is that good people are afraid. I learned a long time ago that everything we do comes either from fear or from love.  Once you get straight on that, and you come to know people of color well, and love them, not just the idea of them, you will act from love, and it will require enormous courage. You will make enemies. You will have to do and say things that will shock and offend all sorts of people. You will speak truth to power. 


Some of us will, as Cornell West predicted in that great Ware Lecture, "go down swinging like Muhammad Ali." I count you and me in that bunch.


I think the barn I've been using as an illustration works well. It was once a tobacco barn; we don't need those barns, and we don't need tobacco. Much of the wood, however, is salvageable, and they've withstood the strongest tornadoes. Still, not all are dismantled. Some are brought down by acts of God: wind and weather; some burn; some are demolished. Some rot away slowly, dissolving into earth from which they came. 

Frederick Douglass:

Let me give you a word on the philosophy of reform. The whole history of the progress of human liberty shows that all concessions yet made to her august claims have been born of earnest struggle. The conflict has been exciting, agitating, all absorbing, and for the time being putting all other tumults to silence. It must do this or it does nothing. If there is no struggle there is no progress. Those who profess to favor freedom, and yet depreciate agitation, are men who want crops without plowing up the ground. They want rain without thunder and lightning. They want the ocean without the awful roar of its many waters. This struggle may be a moral one; or it may be a physical one; or it may be both moral and physical; but it must be a struggle. 


Power concedes nothing without a demand. It never did and it never will. Find out just what people will submit to, and you have found the exact amount of injustice and wrong which will be imposed upon them; and these will continue until they are resisted with either words or blows, or with both. The limits of tyrants are prescribed by the endurance of those whom they oppress.
Frederick Douglass
​in a letter to an abolitionist associate, 1948



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My Own Private Oregon

21 March 2018 at 15:51


Crazy Guru or gifted Saint?

I just finished watching Wild Wild West on Netflix. It's probably not what you'd think. It's a documentary about the Rajneesh Bhagwan aka OSHO who had a commune or community in Oregon for four years, and all of the mayhem, legal and interpersonal, that went along with it. This all happened on a tract of land that was adjacent to a small town in Oregon called Antelope. How these people coped with the influx of thousands of international migrants, formerly homeless individuals (whom the Rajneeshis dumped out when they no longer needed them) and the outside invasions I wonder... but it absolutely fits the definition of a cult. And, it still exists (back in India)and still has adherents almost thirty years after the Bhagwan died. I've been fascinated with cults for as long as I can recall. Just lately, I watched the entire Patty Hearst saga. I've preached and read about them throughout my ministry. I think the fact that humans can be so willingly misled and so easily convinced to follow an evil leader is theologically very significant. Short version here

Surely, we see this now in our own national political mess.

Map shows town of Antelope & John Day Fossil Beds

But I also thought: Darn, I didn't know about this when I went through Oregon. I could have checked it out.

But, it's too late now. The former Rajneeshpuram has been made in a Christian Camp for Young Life, a campus evangelical organization with a world-wide following who, as a townsperson says (Really, I've never seen anyone as mellow as these townspeople!) "...is a kind of sect, too, but at least they're not running around naked and poisoning people and carrying AK-47s"

some of the ten restaurants where over 750 people were poisoned in an attempt to suppress to vote and sway the county election by the Rajneeshis

I have a fuzzy memory of my original yoga teacher in NJ talking about this guru with all these fancy cars (Bhagwan had ninety Rolls Royces) but I don't think he was someone she had admired or followed. From 1980-84 I had three pregnancies and two children, so I have almost no recollection of these events.

Bill & Louise Shellabarger


I heard about Oregon from the time I was young. Oregon was the place one of my aunts, my mother's sister Louise, the "baby" in the family of seven children, had gone off to after she'd married a soldier. They met either during or after WWII (Aunt Louise was in the WACS, an acronym no one bothered to explain to me, and which, like so many things, I didn't feel emboldened to ask about).When she was spoken of, quite often, it was with a sense of awe and reverence, as one might speak of the departed.

This because in those days, few people could afford to fly across country, and the one or two road trips people made in their life times became legendary. In fact, my own parents had made such a trip with my mother's parents (and Louise's) and there were photos to prove it, my granny and Pop-Pop standing side by side in front of an old roadster, arms at their sides, my grandfather in a suit and felt hat, Granny in her go-to flowered shirtwaist and clunky oxford shoes. It may have been my parents' honeymoon, in-laws included.
Louise, front right. Back row: Marjorie (my mother), Mary Ruth (Aunt Ruthie), Mora (died young), Aunt Adele (wife of Uncle Wade who died of alcoholism), Front: Joyce, (died of alcoholism).


I'm told the Shellabargers came east and saw us as infants, but after that, the only visits were made by my Aunt Ruthie, who survived all her brothers and sisters, and lived to be 86. Louise died suddenly of a heart attack (as did my mother, my uncle J.D., and those others who did not die of alcoholism or die tragically young.)

Shortly after my divorce, I did what almost everyone thought was a foolhardy thing, and took my two young and very active sons on a road trip. We traveled in a great arc around the country, hitting 21 states and a multitude of National Parks. After that trip, I entered seminary, to pursue my (also deemed foolhardy)  notion of becoming a Unitarian Universalist minister, and turmoil ensued: a custody battle, which most of all damaged my sons, years of upheaval, and later, challenges they would both take years to resolve. I am so glad we had that summer, that trip, that foolhardy journey.

Casey, me, Colin, Buckaroo

Naturally, Oregon was a goal. (I also recall that we all said AH-regahn, just like we said FLAH-rida, and AH-range. A NJ thing.) Sometimes, you hear certain family myths all your life, and you start to think they aren't true... they're just stories, completely false or partly made up. I recall that Aunt Ruthie did fly out to see Louise several times during my childhood, and it wasn't Ruthie but maybe my dad or uncle who I can remember saying about Bill and Louise that they let the cat walk around on the table and eat the butter. Clearly they were appalled by this. And they, in turn, must have left an inverse impression on them (which got passed along) because when I finally met my cousin Nelson, she said she always imagined us living in a city where there was no grass, only concrete (we lived in South Jersey on 4 acres, very rural) and that we drank our coffee with our pinkies in the air.

But I am getting ahead of myself! What intrigued me the most about stopping in Oregon to meet these people (it was 1991 and Louise had died by then some years earlier) were their names. I'd always been fascinated with the name "Nelson" for a girl, but Aunt Ruthie had been telling me that Nelson now had a son named Buckaroo. How could that be? And this of course intrigued my sons, ages 6 and 9, as well. Who would saddle (pun intended) their kid with a name like Buckaroo?

John Day Fossil Beds NM

The first stop we made in Oregon was at John Day Fossil Beds. What a cool place! First, let me say this trip was pretty much un-planned. We stuck a big map on the wall of our living room for several months before we went and charted out a route based upon things people suggested or things we really wanted to see. But about three days in, near Johnstown, PA, we (or really I) made a decision that we would 1) stick to National Parks and monuments because I suddenly realized they were virtually free, tons better than anything you could pay for, and unique hidden treasures. (Back then, there were fully-funded Ranger Talks and programs.) Now, over 35 years later, I have my Senior Pass.... and 2) take as many random suggestions and invitations as we realistically could along the way. Yes, I now realize this sound extremely dangerous. I still think I'd do it again. But, I digress. I've written an entire book about that trip. 

For what ever reason (I know mine, just not his) Colin and I agreed we would come back to live in the Ranch House at John Day when he grew up. Like, somehow, just he and I were going to get the house from the National Parks and live in it with nobody else. That never happened.


Ranch House, John Day, Oregon

 But guess what did happen? Colin lived in Oregon this winter, near the coast, where he worked on a crabbing boat. Nelson and her family aren't in Oregon anymore. Or he'd have visited them. He gets his wanderlust and spontaneity from me, I'd say.

Colin (left) with crab haul

We then went to see Crater Lake, also a National Park, but a much more well-known one, because so many people had recommended it. I was pretty determined to get to the places I wanted to get to throughout the trip, so I just forged ahead, but I recall seeing more and more and more snow as we ascended, and the road was pretty treacherous. We set up our tent after dark, in the snow, but ended up sleeping in the car. It was pretty, but we headed back to the Visitor Center by noon.

From there I called my cousin. I didn't bring a phone number with me. I called information. The only reason I was able to find her is that Shellabarger is an uncommon name. If I'm not mistaken, I reached my cousin Bill, her brother, and he gave me her number. She was delighted to hear from us, and told us where to meet her, at a bar up the road from the ranch they live and worked on, so that was that. We had a great visit. The kids went fishing, and Buckaroo was everything his name could have made you dream of. He swaggered out in boots and a big ten gallon hat, and they ended up trading the hat and boots to the kids for tapes and Patagonia shorts.She had a box of old pictures in her mobile home, and we poured over them. What family does. At a certain point she looked down and said, look. We have the same hands. I wish I'd taken a picture.

What amazes me most about that trip through Oregon, finding my cousin, and having my kids meet their cousins Buckaroo and John how easy it all seemed, with no GPS, just maps, no cell phones, just phone booths, and no way to even know if where we were going or staying along the way was safe. I was truly indomitable at that point on my life. I was 36.



I returned to Oregon  (Portland) a few years ago, as a minister, when our denomination held its annual assembly there. My full-time professional ministry was winding down, and I was half way through a two-year interim ministry in NJ. It was a joy to attend the sessions and the workshops this time. I could treasure the things I knew I'd not see but perhaps a time or two again. I stayed at an Airbnb some distance from the convention center, and took a bus to the gatherings. It was in a funky, eclectic neighborhood, and I enjoyed checking out the cafes and bistros and one day, accepted the gift of a bicycle tour from my airbnb host (who was also a tour guide). It's a hilly city, but I was riding a brand-new electric bike, and we were offered legal marijuana at stops along the way. I didn't partake, since I didn't own the bike.. but the views and company were fabulous, even un-enhanced.


That was an entirely different Oregon. So was the Japanese garden and tea house I found nestled right in the middle of a busy city block, walled off, peaceful, elegant, utterly restful and serene. At that particular General Assembly, we'd just heard about the Charleston shootings, and I recall sitting with a dear colleague, watching as President Obama broke in to "Amazing Grace" at the Reverend's funeral. I needed space and time to process this, and so much more. It seemed fitting that the ministry I was about to launch on my first visit was ending there in Oregon. So much heartbreak. loss, and disappointment had come between those two visits and yet there I was. I had enormous gratitude for what remained.



As I became more engaged in anti-racism writing and reading, it came across my radar that Oregon had been intended as an all-white state. So, this same place, of majestic and serene beauty, of kooks and ranchers and hippies, tree-huggers and foresters and tea houses and crabbing boats, is all one place. It's the same place where the Bundy brothers took over the bird sanctuary. It's the place where my daughter's best friend from Smith College comes from, even though I imagined she'd have have some upper crust friends from the Cape, you know, it was Prina, whose parents had emigrated from India, and owned a hotel/motel in the small community of Redmond, with whom she bonded. Oregon!

In that same way, each of us is at once one and yet many different persons.Whitman: I am large. I contain multitudes. It's so hard for me to remember this when I look at others... so hard! But it's also hard to remember about myself. I'm not the person everyone wants me to be or expects me to be or that even I expect myself to be. I have hidden tea houses in me and I also have crimes against humanity. Don't you? Sometimes, I can see Mt. Olympia and sometimes I am trying to call someone, and I am calling, but they aren't there, and no one is there, and who I need to call is gone forever. The best lesson for me is that if I had never traveled with my sons, or taken the chance to meet my cousin, or find that tea house, if Colin hadn't jumped onto that crab boat, we wouldn't know a thing. That's what Oregon's taught me. So far.



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Dismantling Racism. Part 2

22 March 2018 at 22:39




After writing about Dismantling Racism  and continuing to think about the topic, all the while driving by this barn, which has been slowly deteriorating over the ten years I've owned my farm, but which took a sudden lean after some tornadoes came through, I realized I had more to say.

The word dismantle  implies linguistically that there was a mantle in the first place. A mantle is a cloak, a covering, a veil or shawl, but it can also be protective covering. We all recall learning about the earth's mantle. And it can be a symbol of responsibility and power.

When I saw that almost all the siding had been stripped away from the skeleton of the barn, I began to wonder whether it was going to be rebuilt. I stopped on a morning when I thought I might catch the sunlight, to take some pictures and snoop around. I was intrigued by the seeming fragility of the structure's frame. It wasn't even made with lumber, just trees.


Some of the vertical beams had rotted, I assume, and been sawed off and propped up with other very precariously propped logs. You can see some of this detail in the large picture below. I almost felt as if it might fall on me if I touched anything. 
Racism is like this,  because it's built on such an intricately interwoven and yet fallible set of assumptions, myths and stereotypes. Its mantle, its power and its veneer are what keep (most white) people feeling safe and invulnerable. It hides their flimsy and worthless skeleton. I think our job, as anti-racists, is to strip away that veneer.

When I do the work of anti-racism I can do it with love and genuine empathy if I see how it is a protection and a vestige of power or worth for some white people.

I saw a Facebook post lately that stated that Unitarian Universalists who are dismantling racism must "sit back, be quiet, and take direction from people of color, listen to their stories, and follow their lead." I disagree. I don't think there is any one way to dismantle racism. There are people of color who would agree with that and also POC who would say, "I need your help. I need your voice. I welcome your leadership." I think white people must have a spiritual practice and be spiritually mature enough to trust themselves to discern when it is time to speak and when it is time to be quiet.



I had an idea. But then, I'm always having ideas, and some of them do not turn out as planned! I went home from looking at the barn, and I was still puzzling about how I will ever get started building our home out on our farm so we can move from the small double wide we live in. (It's fine, but we want to have a passive solar home and I do think the chemicals in this place contribute to my migraines.) We just can't afford it as long as we own the B&B in town. It hit me that we could dismantle our almost -finished (by the former owner) log cabin and reconstruct it out on the ridge where we want to live! My husband hated the idea, probably because the cabin is filled with his troves of hoarded stuff, but I've not given up!

That may be TMI for you, but this is why I tell it. There are so many thorny and seemingly insoluble problems in our world. Each of us has one we are called to (well, some people just want to get manicures and watch Zombies and eat fast food, but they probably aren't reading this!) ...it may be environment, or women's rights, or addiction, or cancer, or, like me, racism. And there are probably more ways into and around that issue than we may even have dreamed. Just sitting back and being quiet is not  an option for me. I am listening, learning, praying, waiting, and studying the people and the history of one small community, and as long as they welcome me, I will use the skills I have, writing, speaking, and motivating, to dismantle racism, even a little. 

Silence is not an option.




Silent Spring 2018 snow on the lettuce ...... 


Silence Innisfree first day of Spring

SCROLL DOWN FOR PARTS ONE OF DISMANTLING RACISM & A LINK TO OUR BOOK IN PROGRESS

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When are we all Stormy Daniels???

27 March 2018 at 14:36
our daffodils!

Of course we'd never be a porn star or have sex with Donald Trump. PTL!

Nor am I planning to share any further photos here, at least none of Stormy with or without Donald. Maybe some kittens or puppies or flowers.

But one can not escape her unless you avoid all TV and radio and print news. What is it really all about? Some, maybe most are intrigued by the cheating, the salacious details, the weird little comments such as, "you remind me of my daughter," when she was around the same age (!) but there has to be more. 

The commentators (and her lawyer) insist that the real significance is the evidence this whole thing affords that Trump lies (we knew that), cheats (knew that decades ago), bullies (REALLY?!), and most important, has committed criminal acts of campaign finance fraud. Fine.

coming soon!

It's the age-old tale of a dozen people looking at an elephant, each seeing a very different thing. Here's mine. In the interview (Yes, I watched it!) I saw a woman who was moderately attractive, who looked very tired, stressed, and careworn for someone who is only thirty-eight. I saw someone who, legal or no, made a decision along the way to use her body as a tool to get the things she wants and needs. Talk about her being "intelligent and well spoken" aside, I saw a woman. By the way, who's to say that lots of porn stars and strippers aren't intelligent or well-spoken? Not me!

The extent to which we, as women, have traded our dignity, our bodies, our looks, and our lives, the only lives we have, to get security, money, adulation, or what we mistook for "love" is only a matter of degree but not of kind. The day we give our power and our integrity away, we begin to be a victim. And this culture mediates against women and leads them down this path in a multitude of ways. It's aided and abetted by women, who will take their sisters down, and mothers who raise daughters to play this role and  raise sons who perpetuate this whole scenario.

So, there's that.




But, maybe even more pointed: I also saw in this woman's face and posture and demeanor, and heard in her voice, someone who has been disbelieved, threatened, controlled, bamboozled, attacked, and gas-lighted, now and perhaps every time she has stood up for herself. Is she strong and tough? no doubt. Is she scrappy and maybe even mendacious? Possibly. Is she scheming and possibly dissembling? Could very well be! And.. all of these things are defense mechanisms employed by women who are discounted and disbelieved.

Here's what I want to say: I have been disbelieved and discounted. I have a chronic illness. I have migraine headaches about 25 days per month I can tell  people think I am exaggerating or making them up! I have had people in my own family, denominational "officials," and people in close relationships look at me and take a few steps back as if they think I am "crazy" or maybe too loud or too angry, because they don't want to hear the truth, and never apologize when the truth comes out weeks, month, or years, later. That's gas-lighting. Pure and simple. It happens to women. All the time. It happens because we know things. We're intuitive. Like witches.

It happens to victims of sexual assault. It happens to people of color, and marginalized people everywhere. It happens to children. 

That's what I'd imagine is happening to Stormy aka Stephanie right now. That's what I felt as I watched her in that interview. The one image that I can't un-see is the photo of her slumped in the chair, strapped up to the lie detector, her ample breasts still the most notable feature. I feel like women, and disenfranchised people of all stripes, and men too, often, go around like this, strapped up to a lie detector, always feeling like we have to haul a briefcase of proof around or produce witnesses to validate what we say or that what we assert is true.

But some of us (of all genders as well) but I can only speak for myself, keep coming back with the truth. We are like the daffodils in Kentucky. Damn things won't die! They've popped back up after three (or four?) big snowstorms, many overnight freezes, and wind and heavy rain. Resilient and determined, our mantra is "What doesn't kill us makes us stronger."

That's why we are all (maybe not all, but most, at some time) Stormy Daniels. Some of us aren't. If you keep your mouth shut, let "them" have their way, go by the script, you'll get by. But the truth will still be true.


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Tapping Transformation

4 April 2018 at 15:05
By: Karen
Forty to one. That’s the ratio of sap to maple syrup in the long, slow process of creating the amber sweetness my family used to boil and bottle every spring. It’s a ratio that tells you something about the time and determination required to make syrup, but gives no hint of the longer arc of […]

Sympathy for the Devil

10 April 2018 at 00:43


Am I crazy? I can't believe I'm away from network and cable TV, and I'm going to watch a four-part series on Netflix called Trump: An American Dream. I'll just give it a try, I think, as I download the first part. But I end up watching all four, bizarrely intrigued. I'll be the first to admit that my husband and I are among those who start our day with Morning Joe and end it with Rachel Maddow or Chris Hayes, watching what Trump calls "fake news" and what we call a link to sanity.

But unlike lots of my liberal and progressive friends (and even my own husband), I have a hard time hating Donald Trump as a human being, or believing that if we just get rid of him, all will be well. I sometimes feel sorry for Trump, in a weird way. He seems so unbelievably angry and sad, for someone who has everything that anyone could possibly dream of.

The documentary helps explain this. Born into a wealthy family, with demanding parents and all sorts of childhood issues that would predispose anyone to neurosis, Trump also channels what became a fatal addiction issue with his brother into a lust for power, sex, and fame, since, although he doesn't drink and disparages drugs, he has to fill the deep inner emptiness with something.

One line in the documentary rings more true than any other: Donald Trump is deeply insecure. 

With that in mind, it's easy to see through his bluster, his destructive demands and decisions, his tiresome tirades, and the callous way he has dangled our democracy over the cliff for more than a year. He's not just a sociopath; he's actually an over-indulged, petulant, self-aggrandizing infantile being. He is who he is. It is we, the voters who did and didn't vote, the citizens who coasted along while our democracy languished, who allowed him to have control of western civilization.

We don't want to acknowledge this, our laziness, our indifference, how little we've done to maintain our freedom, our environment, how little we've done to reach out to conservatives and Republicans and people who are economically or educationally disparate from us, so we project all of it onto Donald Trump.




In the past few weeks, a story has come to prominence about a family who were killed when their van went off a cliff in Northern California. As the facts rolled out, (and much remains unknown), two things happened. It became clear that the parents, a white married female couple, had been investigated more than once for child abuse and neglect of the six children, all of whom were Black. It also appeared that the crash seems likely to have been deliberate, a murder/suicide, not an accident. An article published by the Washington Post pointed out numerous questions and complexities raised by this set of facts. Article:  Can't ignore race

Just as it is easy for Democrats and liberals to project all of our frustrations with the current situation on to one person, it might be easy for folks to look at this family and blame the mothers, since they were gay, or liberal, or adopted too many kids, or were white women adopting Black kids, or because they home schooled. That is projection, too.

Likewise, it's projection to make heroes out of people who adopt kids, who take on kids with special needs, who adopt cross-racially. Because this happens, people like these women, who clearly were not ready to parent at this level and intensity (if at all) may have masked their problems, taken on more kids, or adopted in the first place, or adopted because of their own needs for affirmation or love, the worst reason of all to adopt. I know something about this, since I took on a special needs child  nine years ago, and I still startle when I tell people and they express sympathy, or express how wonderful they think we are.

But, in this situation, there are some actual fingers to be pointed. Our Family and Child Services systems are broken. This horrendous story is one of probably tens if not hundreds of thousands of examples where the cries of kids and the reports of adults go unmet. I have experience with this too. My eldest stepbrother, who repeatedly raped two of my siblings, has custody of his two young sons, and despite everything I have done to alert and beg the State of NJ to intervene, they have done nothing after the one cursory visit.

As a minister, I look back, and wonder about some of the families I observed at my church. Do we always ask, listen, and pay attention to children? Besides teaching kids to tell someone about abuse, it might be good to teach all adults what to look for and what to do when they see and hear certain signals. They are common: kids who don't go out, too skinny, under-developed, don't do normal "kid" things, seem scared or anxious, act perfect or too good to be true.

Finally, I've seen lots of online conversation about the Hart family, because one of my Facebook contacts knew them, and wrote about her shock, but mentioned her empathy for the mothers. She was skewered. From every possible direction, (white) women let her know in no uncertain terms how full of white supremacy her remarks were, since she was mentioning the women (white, murderers) and hadn't named the children (Black, victims). Their comments to her were vicious. Whenever I see anyone react with such vitriol (including myself), I think "projection". White supremacy and white privilege are deeply embedded in the psyches of white people. We hate them and want to push them away. Hence,  many (usually young) progressives, seeing these anywhere, become valiantly self-righteous in what they see as defense of  all People of Color.

Sometimes, it is good to turn the projector off, to look within, and see what is there that we might improve. I know that is certainly true for me.


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Dismantling Racism Part 3: Pray Don't Prey

15 April 2018 at 23:52


I'm pretty sure this was not meant to happen, because when I stopped to take the pictures, there was a place behind the skeleton of the barn where some new construction had begun. Later, I saw some men there, but I was in a hurry, so next time, I will ask them'

Either way, it fell.

I'd been standing inside it a week earlier taking pictures and wondering about what it meant to "dismantle" racism. 

You can see in the picture below the new lumber to the left..again, maybe that was part of the process of deconstruction, and perhaps they were harvesting all the wood they could harvest before pulling it down. It reminded me of stories I'd always heard growing up of "the old barn" that was on our property and which my dad, with some other men and a few tractors, pulled down so that we, his three kids, wouldn't be endangered playing in it.

He used the good barn wood to make a desk, tables, and some other beautiful things that remain in our family. They are treasures today.


So, dismantling racism. As we pass the 50th anniversary of MLK's death, I think it's fair to say that no one has the answer, or we would not be in the place we are in today. There are all kinds of people who think they have the answer(s) and who are very loud, boisterous, and insistent about them.

Last week, the denomination I've served for 23 years published a report written by a Commission appointed to look into what they call the "Hiring Practices Controversy". Feel free to read if you like dirty laundry, but long story short, our President resigned, our Moderator died, and two or three white male staff members also quit after accusations of unfairness and white supremacy in hiring of a regional staff member. 

Our denomination is in turmoil. People are talking past each other, accusations are flying, and, worst of all, there seems to be no safe space to discuss anything without being shamed or shouted down. There is, it seems, an "official" position which shall not be questioned. So why even have a commission? The Commission has been funded at almost $500,000.  More on all of that here.I hope for and expect some great results.

I struggle with this, not because I mistrust the sincerity and good will of the Commission members, but because I do not understand how to explain half a million dollars allocated to this study when I was turned away by every UUA official I requested help from in my work with a local rural African American woman whose husband has been incarcerated for almost a year waiting to be deported to Mexico. (Their story is in the fundraiser on this blog). I didn't ask for money; only for help sharing the plea. How do I face this family when my denomination claims to support undocumented immigrants and poor Black families and tell her they could do nothing? (By the way, the UUSC did provide resources and connections for us). This is exactly what conservatives talk about when they criticize liberal hypocrisy. This is why Black communities trust white liberals the least of all! 

I may be wrong, since I've been disconnected from denominational activities for the past year or so, but I know how we do things. If I weren't already a Unitarian Universalist, I would run, not walk, away from them as quickly as I could. They sound and look like a group of people trying to use will, intellect and ego to force results. Rather than going out into the world with prayerful reflection and open hearts, we've chosen to look inward and point fingers at one another with accusations of white supremacy.

This all brings to mind the Serenity Prayer, which might be a good start. (God) grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, the courage to change the things I can, and the wisdom to know the difference.

I guess what I'm suggesting is that it might be helpful for us to do more praying and less preying (on one another).

And, as Carl Jung brilliantly told the founder of AA, lasting sobriety would never be possible without a spiritual conversion. And I think this is the true problem that my denomination is not addressing. Racism is not just a structural problem, it is a soul sickness that requires a deep spiritual reckoning and repentance, something many liberal religionists have no language nor ritual for.


This week I heard some talk about how what's missing from the movement against racism is a "leader like MLK." I disagree with that. One has only to look at the success of the gay marriage lobby or what appears to be the burgeoning movement by young people for sensible gun legislation to see that movements today can be spontaneous, organic and can reach a point of saturation and success without charismatic leaders.

This is the science of Appreciative Inquiry.

I don't understand why we (UUs) aren't using AI (Appreciative Inquiry)in this process.It involves raising up what is best, innovation and creativity which evolve based upon the positive core value. It has its scientific basis in quantum theory. I know it is hard to sustain in organizations, because I have tried it with one church, that reverted back continually to Newtonian thinking*. But at another congregation, which grasped AI, change and innovation were welcomed.


When I think of places where oppression and discrimination have been effectively addressed, I can see that it happened because diligent, positive, dedicated and creative work came to a tipping point. It's how things like recycling, smoke-free buildings, breastfeeding, and so many more major developments and shifts in cultural awareness have come about.

Racism has a grip on our culture, and white privilege is real. It's endemic. We have to relearn everything we thought we knew. We can do it! We've done things as hard as this before. We have poets, teachers, brilliant writers, and so many good people who can unlearn white privilege. It may happen slowly at first, but just like we saw with the Stoneman Douglas rallies, there may come a sudden cataclysmic moment when the last vestiges of it crash to the ground. I believe this can happen. Not by shaming or blaming one another, but by loving and believing in the goodness of each other, the God-ness in one another.

And from the remnants, some thing beautiful and precious may be created.

Newtonian World View
  • Universe as Great Machine
  • Focus on Parts
  • One Right Answer
  • Predictable
  • Linear
  • Duality (This or That)
  • Objective
  • Value Things
  • Competition
  • Doing Creates
  • Single Reality
  • Material Focus
  • Separation
  • Autonomy
  • Make It Happen
  • Resist Change
  • Matter is made up of “Things”
  • Scientific World View
  • Study of Physical Matter
  • Control
  • Particles of Atoms
  • Finite


Quantum World View
  • Universe as Great Thought
  • Focus on Whole
  • Many Paths
  • Random
  • Non-Linear
  • Wholism (This and That)
  • Subjective
  • Value Relationships
  • Cooperation
  • Consciousness Creates
  • Multiple Realities
  • Spiritual Focus
  • Interconnection
  • Synergy
  • Allow It to Happen
  • Embrace Change
  • Matter is “Bundles of Energy in Relationship”
  • Consciousness World View
  • Study of Consciousness
  • Participation
  • Fields of Energy
  • Infinite

SCROLL DOWN FOR PARTS ONE & TWO OF DISMANTLING RACISM & A LINK TO OUR BOOK IN PROGRESS
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The New Face of Hope

11 May 2018 at 14:08
By: Karen
Finally, spring has arrived. Even so, I hear many folks growing weary of the political storms blowing about every day. The blustery posturing that hawks fear like a street peddler desperate to make a sale. On many a day, I find it hard to believe in the seasonal rising of hope that typically blooms in […]

Feeding the Future

30 June 2018 at 14:30
By: Karen
Two downy woodpeckers visit the deck in the morning. The female fat with eggs sits on the railing. The male flits between feeder and mate, feeder and mate, seed by seed feeding a future not yet nested. It is coded within whether we’re winged or flat-footed, this care across time. How much we humans have […]

Leaving Home

29 July 2018 at 16:42


For the Traveler

Every time you leave home,
Another road takes you
Into a world you were never in.

New strangers on other paths await.
New places that have never seen you
Will startle a little at your entry.
Old places that know you well
Will pretend nothing
Changed since your last visit.

When you travel, you find yourself
Alone in a different way,
More attentive now
To the self you bring along,
Your more subtle eye watching
You abroad; and how what meets you
Touches that part of the heart
That lies low at home:

How you unexpectedly attune
To the timbre in some voice,
Opening in conversation
You want to take in
To where your longing
Has pressed hard enough
Inward, on some unsaid dark,
To create a crystal of insight
You could not have known
You needed
To illuminate
Your way.

When you travel,
A new silence
Goes with you,
And if you listen,
You will hear
What your heart would
Love to say.

A journey can become a sacred thing:
Make sure, before you go,
To take the time
To bless your going forth,
To free your heart of ballast
So that the compass of your soul
Might direct you toward
The territories of spirit
Where you will discover
More of your hidden life,
And the urgencies
That deserve to claim you.

May you travel in an awakened way,
Gathered wisely into your inner ground;
That you may not waste the invitations
Which wait along the way to transform you.

May you travel safely, arrive refreshed,
And live your time away to its fullest;
Return home more enriched, and free
To balance the gift of days which call you.

~John O' Donohue~





Seth asked me, Mom, do you know the 5 stages of grief?

And as he rattled them off: denial, anger, bargaining, depression, and acceptance, I blurted out, Of course I do! It was my job. Remember? But how do you know them? 

Seth regularly astonishes me with the nuggets of wisdom and information he gleans from his "studies" on YouTube and the Internet (yes, we have restricted mode one & locked. Do you?) Still, since we were driving to a big going-away celebration (maybe that's the wrong word) for my middle son, who is headed off to work on his PhD in New Mexico, a 4-5 year venture, and who, if he stays on trajectory and decides to teach, may not move back to Kentucky... it was a timely topic. My son's friends are legion, and loyal. He makes friends easily everywhere he goes. They all know how gregarious he is, and how he's the one with ideas and inspiration, who calls people up, makes plans and makes stuff happen. He's also pretty much always upbeat, and he's generous of time and spirit. He's as loyal to them as they are to him. Sometimes, when I'm being introduced as his mom, I feel as if I'm a celebrity of sorts. He's that beloved.

The rest of us in the family are introverts. We have friends, but for me, I'd rather have 2 or 3 genuine friends that I can trust and who are authentic and with whom I share basic outlooks and interests. I need to leave my time together feeling better about myself and the world, not sucked dry or wondering, what did that mean?

I'd rather read a book. Or be on my farm. And I think my other kids and my husband are pretty much the same. So at this party, I had some time to see many of my son's friends I'd not seen for months or years, and to meet some I'd never met. A common theme was how sad we'd all be without him. There really was an undercurrent of grief. I have to say that I haven't been feeling that way. I am so happy for my son; I know he'll stay in touch and visit, wherever he lives; I know that we can't plan or control the future; and I know how lucky I am to have had him around for 33 years (except for a year and a half when I was studying for ministry and he was staying with his dad). He didn't even go away to college!

But... there's something else. I've been musing about it. Wondering: am I just in denial? For sure, I'm slow to recognize and feel the impact of major losses. Because there was no acknowledgement of the pain associated with losing my mother when I was five (we were expected to soldier on), I developed a sort of frozen first response around sadness. It actually came in handy in ministry, when I had to be strong for families who'd lost someone, especially tragically. I can go numb for days or years, and then something will trigger my well of sorrow and deep melancholy. I'm sure this has been at the root of many or perhaps most of my bouts with depression.

But as I looked at the group picture I took right before leaving the party, I felt this sense of unmitigated joy. Some (not all) of the people are in recovery. A few have been sponsored or been sponsors to one of my sons. Many are friends from 5Ks, biking, coffee drinking, and other loves.


It kept reminding me of this other, precious photograph I have of my grandfather Patton, about 80 years ago, in one of the early AA groups in Philadelphia. I was reminded that evening that while addiction and alcoholism is still rampant, there is a path to sanity. Through God and the 12 Steps of AA millions of people have restored their lives and gained success and happiness they never dreamed of. In my own family, people have died from alcohol and drug abuse, at least three in the past two generations. However, people have also found recovery and led others to recovery and better lives.

The Patton Family


Sometimes people say, I can't believe how much he's changed!  about my son's recovery. But what I think is that actually, he just returned to the self he always was. He changed when he was under the influence of and imprisoned by substances. No one who has not gone through this can imagine how excruciating it is to stand by while the child you loved and nurtured from infancy leaves you and virtually disappears.




I've described it as a grief that never ends, because you are burying the person over and over. You just keep running through those five stages again and again and again.

You go for years, unable to look at a baby picture or album, unable to laugh at a memory, terrified someone will ask you how your kid is doing, feeling their judgment in their "well meaning" questions (I still feel this 7 and 4 years on) and not even daring to imagine a future.The feeling of shame you have when others talk about their kids' proms, college exams, marriages, and visits is profound. At some point, they stop even asking. And you absolutely feel alone. Yes, there is Al Anon. And sometimes, it helps.



And maybe you are one of the lucky ones. Because so many  do not find recovery before death finds them, and while we do not comprehend this mystery, it seems manifest that those who do must live even more gratefully, and more fully, for those who do not.
My saddest thought was not that my sons would die young; it was that they would live a life of ever-increasing dissolution, never going anywhere, always in debt, spiraling from disaster to disaster, a life that slowly destroyed not only them but all who loved them.

So here's my answer: No, I'm not sad/angry/worried or in denial because my son is moving away (for now). I'm quietly joyful. I'm joyful because I actually did lose him before. He left for years and I came to believe I would never see him again. I was wrong. I am so grateful for his freedom that I could never feel remorse about anything he chooses to do with it. 












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Announcing Our First Online Course!

31 July 2018 at 23:26

The Transforming Hearts Collective is excited to announce our first online course: "Transgender Inclusion in Congregations," taught by trans faith leaders Rev. Mykal Slack and Zr. Alex Kapitan.

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This course asks the question: what does it really take to create faith communities where people of all gender identities can get our spiritual needs met and bring our gifts forward? When it comes to trans communities, "welcome" requires more than an open door or a rainbow flag. This course is for individuals, groups, and congregational teams who are serious about dismantling gender-based oppression and want to explore the personal and collective transformation that we are called to engage in as people of faith. 

Over six sessions, participants deeply explore the intersections of trans identity, spirituality, and faith community, and gain the grounding, context, and skills to transform themselves and their congregation. Each session includes a 45- to 60-minute pre-recorded lecture, reflection questions, and resources that take the conversation deeper. In addition, Mykal and Alex will be holding regular live video chats for all current and past course participants.

The course is for everyone from novices on trans identity to those with decades of life experience. Rather than offering a “trans 101,” this class pushes participants to the next level of congregational welcome, relationship-building, and skills-building. Congregational teams are particularly encouraged to sign up. 

Full Details

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Taking a break

8 August 2018 at 21:19
By: Karen
I took a break from presenting this summer to work on a new book. Then, having turned in my manuscript to my publisher, I took a break from writing with daily word-count goals. Going off-line and on the road, I took the advice of a friend and left my hefty journal behind. Get something fresh […]

When Welcome Fails: Conversations on the Margins

5 September 2018 at 17:55
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Have you ever attended a Unitarian Universalist congregation because you heard or hoped it would be welcoming to people like you, and then had a profoundly unwelcoming experience? Us too. Do you want to be in conversation with others like us about what real, radical welcome requires?

Let’s talk. The Transforming Hearts Collective is working on a pilot program for congregations that truly want to transform their culture into one where queer, trans, black and brown, disabled, poor and working class, and otherwise marginalized folks aren’t just welcome but are centered. Where no one has to leave any piece of themselves at the door. Where the goal isn’t inclusion, it's liberation.

We want to have soul-deep conversations with others who have struggled to feel welcome/belonging in UU spaces about where congregations fall short in their welcome of people who fall outside of what’s considered the normative UU experience (white, cis, moneyed, etc.) and what a radical vision of Unitarian Universalist community looks like to those of us on the margins. Join us! RSVP here.

Details

Each conversation will be 2-3 hours long and there are four different date/time options (one is for people of color only; the others are open to all):

  • Monday September 17, 8pm Eastern / 5pm Pacific

  • Saturday October 6, 11am Eastern / 8am Pacific

  • Monday October 22, 8pm Eastern / 5pm Pacific (PEOPLE OF COLOR ONLY)

  • Friday November 16, 3pm Eastern / noon Pacific

On each video call we’ll spend time getting to know one another, talk about our experiences of how “welcome” has failed us, discuss together what real, radical welcome would be like for us, and also talk about what we need in order to heal from our unwelcoming experiences.

Participants will join the Transforming Hearts Collective learning community and get free access to all current and future Collective webinars and courses for a year.

RSVP NOW

Facilitators

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Rev. Mykal Slack has been working in congregations and other faith settings for more than a decade, helping to develop anti-racist, anti-oppressive, and LGBTQ-affirming frameworks for church life and to foster community life practices that embody radical welcome and connection. Mykal serves as the Community Minister for Worship & Spiritual Care for Black Lives of Unitarian Universalism (BLUU) and is on the visioning team for the Clearing, an emerging POC, queer, and trans-centered spiritual community. He lives in Durham, NC.

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Zr. Alex Kapitan is a trainer, speaker, consultant, editor, and anti-oppression activist and lifelong Unitarian Universalist who grounds radical social justice work in a place of faith and love. Alex worked for eight years at the national headquarters of the Unitarian Universalist Association, supporting anti-racism and Welcoming Congregation programming and large-scale social justice organizing efforts, and is currently on the steering committee for TRUUsT, an organization of trans UU religious professionals. Alex lives in Greenfield, MA.

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Finding the Right Words

13 September 2018 at 16:36
By: Karen
We’d driven almost 3,000 miles, from the northern Midwest to the southwestern tip of the U.S. and were making our way home last month before I confessed that I hadn’t yet found the right words to describe the extraordinary landscape we were passing through. Expansive wasn’t big enough. Astonishing wasn’t specific enough. Thrilling didn’t do […]

Entitled

17 September 2018 at 21:38

Fifteen.


I haven't been blogging as much lately.

Unless I have something to say that is likely to add to the general conversation, I think it makes more sense to wait and listen. When I feel compelled to speak/write, I will. I have so many projects underway, both writing projects and gardening ones, that my blog doesn't call to me quite as often. I've turned off comments for a very specific reason, but if we are connected through other social media, I welcome your feedback.

So, the allegations against Brett Kavanaugh. I can't imagine that this isn't raising some issues for every woman (and probably many men), no matter their age. Did that happen to me, ever? Did I do something like that? For not a few, the answer will be yes. How much should that "yes" continue to impact the rest of our lives, if it happens as early as this was alleged to have happened.. high school?

I went to plenty of parties in high school where there were no parents, and there was drinking. I remember going into bedrooms. I'm pretty sure that boys laid either on top of or next to me, but there the comparison ends. Although they (and sometimes I) were drinking, and probably drunk, I wasn't forced into a bedroom, pushed onto a bed, held down, nearly suffocated, nor were my clothes nearly torn off. I didn't have to flee to a bathroom and wait, terrified, until the offender left. And there was never  a second boy in the room. That's just so upsetting, for a number of reasons.

I didn't feel then, and I don't feel now, that I was ever forced to do anything against my will. I'm a good ten years older than the accuser and the accused here, so I bring my own experience to the conversation, because it may be more relevant than someone who is that age today, or was that age ten years ago. As a girl, I felt more powerful than powerless, because I knew that I had something (even if I was insecure about it) boys liked, and I could either give or withhold my affection. The boys with whom I spent this kind of time were inexperienced, usually awkward, and endearing. So I write this not to say #notallmen because that has become anathema, but to say that what is alleged to have happened was not normal, not okay, and not just a case of "boys will be boys".

15.


I was also sexually abused. This happened at a much younger age, around nine or ten, when the oldest stepbrother of four moved into our home after our mother died when I was five. Because I was a bit of a goody-two-shoes, he backed off after making numerous attempts to groom and grope me, and I spent the next year or two, until he moved away, hiding from him. Tragically, he did succeed with my brother and sister, and their trauma has been far worse than mine. But even with what happened to me, I've been affected in ways that continue to have repercussions decades later. So, it's easy for me to believe that the accuser is still affected, as well as to believe she did not tell many people. Neither did I.

sixteen.


Here's why I think what happened to her happened, and why so many women signed a letter supporting her attacker:

His actions were those of an entitled, pampered, male from the upper classes of American society. Much like Trump, he believed that if he wanted something, he could just take it. Of course, he kept that sort of behavior in check over the remainder of his adult life, because what he wanted would be undermined by allegations like the one that has arisen. There is a class of people who are making decisions for us, who are running our institutions, and who are taking our money, who have never experienced the day-to-day life of American people. This is epitomized as much by Brett Kavanaugh throwing a 15 year old girl on a bed at a party as it is by Donald Trump throwing paper towels at Puerto Ricans after Hurricane Maria.

Strangest of all is that those who are enabling this triumph of entitled imposters are the poor and uneducated who have never seen the inside of a prep school, and who might think what Kavanaugh did is no big deal, yet sit back and ignore the rape of the environment, the stifling of peace accords, the undressing of trade economies. Who are being assaulted themselves, and don't even know when they're getting groomed.

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Pointing Fingers & the Kavanaugh Debate

19 September 2018 at 13:39


Every man is some woman's son.

Although he may not have been raised by his mother, someone raised him, and how boys were raised has a bearing on what sort of men they become.

As I contemplate the allegations against Brett Kavanaugh, and especially as I read the extensive discussions on my social media (most of them among liberal and progressive "friends"), it's impossible to do so without the knowledge of a mother of adult sons, a sister, and a wife. When I hear colleagues ask: Where are the men? Why aren't they speaking up? I think, what can they say right now? When I read words like this is male privilege. This is what men do... I know I can't say anything along the lines of "Not all men," because that is verboten. I write this because I think the divisive rhetoric will get us nowhere and I want us to be able to get somewhere.

I pray that my sons, my husband, my brothers never did anything like this. I will probably never know. I know that raising boys has been a challenge over the past 36 years. I have felt that my own influence has been offset by the lyrics in the music they listen to (at times incessantly), the TV shows and movies they've watched, and the general culture: books like Fifty Shades of Gray, video games like Grand Theft Auto. I remember being overjoyed when it became clear they'd not join the military, when I realized they would never pledge a fraternity, when the women they had relationships with were clearly treated with respect. But there is much I don't know. Because they suffered from years of addiction, I was not always a part of their lives. Men don't usually tell their mothers the intimate details about their liaisons. And, since their father and I divorced when they were young, my influence was supplemented by his. What I know is that I expected to be treated with respect. I didn't tolerate sexist and misogynist behavior and comments. I hoped that by seeing me leave a demeaning and verbally abusive relationship, they'd understand the worth of women. But was that enough?


Since I have a young son, my sister's grandchild, I get to spend time around people with children his age. I can observe current day mothering as well as I could observe mothers and sons thirty years ago. Here's what I see that troubles me: women routinely allowing boys to boss them around. Women condoning and permitting behavior from boys they wouldn't tolerate from girls. Women letting men dominate conversations, make subtly aggressive remarks, and shuffle all the child-related responsibilities onto them. Boys learn from what they see.

And so do girls. I have a daughter, too. From the beginning, I felt the importance of teaching her that she must never allow herself to be objectified or demeaned by men. And it was clear to me that the best way I could teach her was not to tell her but to show her by my own life. But things are complex. This did not succeed in every regard. Most of the interpersonal negativity in her experiences have been caused by women... as they have in mine. Raising girls not to trust men is not the answer.

I'm convinced that growing up with misogyny unaddressed is how boys become entitled, arrogant, and dismissive of women's needs. If what boys observe is that women routinely set aside their own passions, health, creativity, and even their opinions in order to please the men around them, why would boys expect the world to be different when they become men? Why wouldn't they expect women to be available and even eager to please them sexually?

Men, here's a query you can reply to! Your HS experience?

I can see how this might sound as if it may be an attempt to excuse the behavior of men who do things like Kavanaugh is accused of doing. It is not! Nor do I have any patience for those who say women that are assaulted asked for it, or are somehow to blame. My point is that as bad as things seem to be today, as egregious as this type of behavior is, there are a multitude of things that need to change:

* How boys are raised by men and women
* The influence of culture: music, literature, and film/TV
* Sex education
* Fraternity culture and the culture of violence


Those of us who are mothers of sons can take an unflinching look at how we influenced our sons' attitudes. For me, there were things I did well, and things I could have done better. Rather than pointing fingers at the men on my Facebook timeline (the vast majority of whom are decent, respectful, and beyond laudable in how they treat women), it feels more productive to do some self-examination. Even now, with sons in their thirties and a boy in his teens, I can look at ways I allow people to treat me. I can demand respect and decency. I can believe that I deserve to be treated well. Those are things I can influence, and they matter.
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Faith and Sexual Misconduct

23 September 2018 at 17:27




Women are raging.

And women who've been abused sexually are feeling traumatized all over again, not merely by the description of the alleged assault against Dr. Ford, but by the behavior of the GOP, the President and some of their apologists. To say "boys will be boys" or to say "all guys do this" is to open wounds so deep that it seems as if blood is flowing throughout our society.

The rage spills over into social media. Women (and some men, because men are victims too) report that they feel physically ill, and have had exacerbation of chronic conditions.

It's important to remember that so often the initial trauma is bad, but that it could have been far less had there been a vehicle for healing available. Instead, most victims face shame, repression, silence, denial, and disbelief if they do tell. Those who report are scorned by the perpetrator's allies and humiliated by attorneys and sometimes law enforcement. I believe that most perpetrators of sexual violence get away with their crimes, usually for their entire lives. Hence the hashtag #whyididntreport

This column by Maureen Dowd covers the extent of the fury. Read the column.

In my own family, this has happened.

My mother died when I was 5. Soon after, my father remarried, a woman with 4 sons, the oldest of whom sexually abused my sister, my brother and me. In my case, he backed off. I think he knew my father and stepmother would believe me if I told. But the others suffered severely, and their trauma has destroyed our family, our relationships, and taken a toll on several generations. So much of my own life has been devastated by the actions of this person that I am keenly aware of not only the first hand but second, third, and fourth hand effects of sexual trauma. A few years ago, I went back to my home place to live and work, and made an effort to unmask the perpetrator, now in his sixties, who has two young sons in his care. It was more out of concern for their safety than for revenge that I went to extreme measures to alert authorities to his crimes. Although I was listened to (probably because I am a minister), and I had a chance to meet with individuals in law enforcement up to the County Judge Executive, and there was a home visit made by Child Protective Services, nothing could be done. The person involved, Roger Tees of Atlantic County, NJ, was not yet 18 at the time the actions took place in our home. There's no statute of limitations, but he wasn't an adult. So.

Soon after, he and his wife and their young children came to the church I was serving as an interim. They only stayed for about 20 minutes, then got up and left. I suspect they came in an attempt to intimidate me. They did not. I tell you this not to claim a victim stance or a moral high ground but to say that I speak with knowledge of someone whose life was permanently altered by sexual assault and who has yet had a productive life, who refuses to stop trusting men, or people in general.

Roger Tees and his sons

The faith tradition I serve, Unitarian Universalism, is historically Christian but has evolved to embrace many paths to God and truth. We do agree on a number of tenets, not a creed. Topmost among them is The inherent worth and dignity of every person.

There have been times when I've questioned that. Times when I've felt that, although every person is born with innocence and free of sin (where Universalists fall away from Calvinists), there are those who immerse themselves so egregiously in evil that they eliminate any trace of worth and dignity. Nonetheless, my Christian foundation cautions me, as do my experiences, that there is always hope, that salvation is possible, and that even the most unrepentant may yet do good.



This stepbrother claims to be Christian and wears a big cross. To me, if he were even slightly serious, he would have made amends to those he hurt, and he'd be attempting to right his wrongs. He'd have gotten treatment for what was a classic example of pedophilia. If not, his "Christianity" is a cover for what I fear may be continued abuse that I can do nothing about, and what no one else, neither family, friends, nor the state, will do. You only hear these stories in retrospect, and by then the next round of abusers has already been created. 

Back to my own faith.




I'm disconcerted by the number of Unitarians and especially of Unitarian ministers who are making statements that, if I were a male, would make me feel as if I'd somehow been in the room with Kavanaugh and Ford. If you say #notallmen, you're toast, yet some posts I've seen look an awful lot like it's okay to say #allmen and that just doesn't go along with my personal beliefs. How can you believe in the inherent worth and dignity  of every human, yet somehow deny that to 50% of humanity? It's one of many problems I have with my own faith tradition right now.



Brett Kavanaugh is a conservative and a person with whom I likely disagree on many things. He's not a monster. What he allegedly did at 17 sounds pretty bad. I don't know what he's done to repent or repair the damage. He didn't apologize to the victim. Nor did he go on to a life of sexual assault (both conjecture).* Nonetheless, even though, as a liberal, I don't want to see him on the Supreme Court, I think he has inherent worth and dignity.  I think he probably did it. It's going to outweigh all good he's done since, in many minds. What if he'd gone to her then, begged forgiveness, stopped drinking? I am assuming he was and is Catholic. Did he tell his Priest? I agree with one wise commentator this week: He should step down. That would be the ethical, moral, and even politically correct thing for him to do. It's what appears to be his lying about it now, as well as his lying and dissembling about numerous other issues, that to me is completely disqualifying.

*Clearly, since, I wrote this, further allegations and details have emerged. It is now evident that unless the GOP and Trump are correct and all of this is a huge "con job", BK has a litany of behaviors that are appalling and disqualifying. Furthermore, perhaps even more distressing, it would seem he has chosen to lie about it all.

I conducted an unofficial poll of mostly ministers from my own faith tradition. I just asked them to respond to the question, Does Brett Kav have inherent worth and dignity? Yes or No. I also added the comment, And not "yes, but.." This should be an easy "yes" since it is first among our Principles, and many answered "yes". Others felt compelled to say "but" without using the word by explaining to me that even though he has it, he is still responsible for his actions, etc. Some explained that while it is inherent, it can be diminished by one's behavior and choices. One asked me if I was applying a litmus test for UUs (very funny for anyone who knows me).

My true goal was to see what people would say. Although it's true (as many reminded me) that our principles are not beliefs, or a creed, for me they have been a foundation to my 25 year ministry. They explain why we exist as a people, historically, and theologically, and they call us to service and justice. We have welcomed and embraced individuals in our midst that others would shun. We ordained LGBTQ individuals when other faiths banned them. We affirm people of all faiths and of none. We have even striven to make room for sex offenders to return to society. So whence comes this Puritanical hellfire toward Brett Kavanaugh? No way am I suggesting he be put on the Supreme Court. He's suffering humiliation and it sounds like it is well-deserved and long overdue. But him being drawn and quartered will not move us any closer to the real solutions we need to seek.

Every human being deserves forgiveness and Grace. That is my faith. I'm sticking with it. 

For the rest of us? I'm not telling anyone else what to do right now. I'm going to go on believing that most people are basically good. It's worked for me so far. And it's what my faith tells me.

Kids. Innocent & Safe.
Inherently Good.

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Introducing the Radical Welcome Advisory Team

24 September 2018 at 15:00

Last year the Transforming Hearts Collective was excited to announce the beginnings of plans to create a pilot program for congregations that want to take their “welcome” to the next level. We are thrilled to share that these plans are progressing and, because it matters that this work be engaged in an accountable way and not in isolation, we are now supported by an Advisory Team that will be lending their expertise, gifts, and perspectives to this effort!

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Minister Candace Simpson is a sister, preacher and educator. It is Candace's philosophy that Heaven is a Revolution that can happen right here on Earth.

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Rev. Theresa I. Soto is a Unitarian Universalist minister and liberation worker. They live in Ashland, Oregon, and aspire to building new futures of unprecedented equity. They like kale and gummi bears, but probably not together. They strongly dislike mayonnaise from jars.

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I’m Rev. Dr. Marni Harmony. I’m now retired after 40 years in Unitarian Universalist ministry, which was mostly parish ministry but I have also served as a hospital chaplain and then a couple of interim ministry positions after my last settled ministry.

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I'm Kim Sweeney, queer mother of two teenagers with a background in education, faith formation, and organizational change. I live in western Massachusetts and I'm excited to work with this rockstar group of people.

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I’m Dani Henri and I live in Portland, Oregon. I am a musician and songwriter. I am also a disabled trans gay man. I also do work at the intersection of queerness, sex, and disability. I work in retail and social media in the adult industry. Samples of my work on queerness and disability can be found here.

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Rev. Dr. Jonipher Kwong is a gay cis-male in his 40s living the LA life after a stint in Honolulu and currently serves the UUA as Congregational Life Staff in the Pacific Western Region. Originally ordained with the Metropolitan Community Church, he’s done parish, community, and now institutional ministry. Here’s his website if you want to know more!

Building on the successes and failures of the UUA’s Welcoming Congregation Program, which three-quarters of Unitarian Universalist congregations have used over the last 28 years to expand their understanding and welcome of LGBTQ people and which became a model for similar programs in other denominations, our goal is to create a program that will help faith communities truly take things to the next level (within and beyond Unitarian Universalism).

We want to help congregations believe in the possibility of transforming their culture around “welcome,” difference, the purpose of spiritual community, marginalized experiences (particularly sexuality, gender, race/ethnicity, class, and ability), and social justice. We plan to create a program that is intersectional, heart-centered, spiritually grounded, up-to-date with respect to LGBTQ identity, flexible and custom-fit, and transformational.

If you’re interested in staying tuned in about our progress, sign up to stay in touch below, in the footer of the website. And if your congregation is dedicated to transformation and interested in being a part of the pilot program, please contact us!

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For All the Men I Love

26 September 2018 at 00:34


I hate what's happening right now, because the men in my life aren't pigs.

That's what Michele Goldberg calls (some) men in an op-ed in today's NYT: Pigs All the Way Down

I have a husband that's a good man, who never did anything remotely like the actions being reviewed nightly on MSNBC, and I see the pain as he listens to the descriptions. I know he's thinking about his daughter, about me, and about the victims' accounts, but he's also suffering some trauma of his own. As a painfully shy, very thin, teenager who was viewed as a stoner in the eighties, and who was teased and even beat up by the very same entitled and arrogant jock types we've all seen or heard about, who are being featured in the Brett Kavanaugh accusations, I can only imagine he is reliving some of that humiliation. I know it still affects him. I'm just glad he doesn't go on Facebook and see all the accusatory posts from women saying, Where all all the passive men?

I have two adult sons. They are super respectful to me, and when they have been in relationships, to the women they are with. At least, as far as I know. I've done my best to show them a woman who is self-determined and who does not make her life around another person. I do see that the women they have chosen as partners have that quality. No doormats!



I have had lots of men friends. As a minister, there have been times when most of my good friends were other clergy, and almost all of them were men. Some of the kindest, most caring, loving, and thoughtful people I have ever encountered have been my clergy friends from other denominations and faiths. They've been there for me, and taught me, confronted me and guided me.

Some of my best teachers have been men.

I have had two Buddhist meditation teachers, several writing mentors in my MFA studies, as well as group leaders in recovery groups, family studies groups, my Spiritual Direction training, and preparation for ministry, all of whom are on my Jewel Tree. I count them with gratitude among my most beloved friends.

There have been men in the congregations I have served who have taught me so much, just by being vulnerable and by their willingness to grow and be changed and who've empowered and encouraged me. I've always been amazed that such highly educated and accomplished men (and women, but in my experience, men were better) were willing to take direction and to trust my leadership and skills.

So I'm writing this to say, yes, damnit, there are some really entitled, privileged, prigs as well as plain old pigs of men out there. Some aren't even privileged. There are other environments than prep school that lead to misogyny.

But the vast majority of men that I have met (and maybe this is because of the choices I have made and keep making) are not jerks. This is for you. I see you. I believe that all of this might be painful for you as well. Your sister, daughter, or mom or even you have been assaulted. You are angry but you don't know what to say or do. But what you are doing matters. My husband? He's been the dad to my sister's grandson, a 13 year old with Autism, for ten years. Some days it's a challenge. But I've never heard him complain. When I hear him say, "Son," as he teaches Seth the same thing for the 100th time, I am so impressed at his patience.

  It is each one of you who is making the men of tomorrow a new breed. Keep going.

Thank you.



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Women, Girls, & Cats: Be a Vashti

28 September 2018 at 13:42


This is what happened during the time of Xerxes,[a] the Xerxes who ruled over 127 provinces stretching from India to Cush[b]: At that time King Xerxes reigned from his royal throne in the citadel of Susa, and in the third year of his reign he gave a banquet for all his nobles and officials. The military leaders of Persia and Media, the princes, and the nobles of the provinces were present.
For a full 180 days he displayed the vast wealth of his kingdom and the splendor and glory of his majesty. When these days were over, the king gave a banquet, lasting seven days, in the enclosed garden of the king’s palace, for all the people from the least to the greatest who were in the citadel of Susa. The garden had hangings of white and blue linen, fastened with cords of white linen and purple material to silver rings on marble pillars. There were couches of gold and silver on a mosaic pavement of porphyry, marble, mother-of-pearl and other costly stones.Wine was served in goblets of gold, each one different from the other, and the royal wine was abundant, in keeping with the king’s liberality.By the king’s command each guest was allowed to drink with no restrictions, for the king instructed all the wine stewards to serve each man what he wished.
Queen Vashti also gave a banquet for the women in the royal palace of King Xerxes.

10 On the seventh day, when King Xerxes was in high spirits from wine,he commanded the seven eunuchs who served him—Mehuman, Biztha, Harbona, Bigtha, Abagtha, Zethar and Karkas— 11 to bring before him Queen Vashti, wearing her royal crown, in order to display her beauty to the people and nobles, for she was lovely to look at. 12 But when the attendants delivered the king’s command, Queen Vashti refused to come. Then the king became furious and burned with anger.
13 Since it was customary for the king to consult experts in matters of law and justice, he spoke with the wise men who understood the times14 and were closest to the king—Karshena, Shethar, Admatha, Tarshish, Meres, Marsena and Memukan, the seven nobles of Persia and Media who had special access to the king and were highest in the kingdom.
15 “According to law, what must be done to Queen Vashti?” he asked. “She has not obeyed the command of King Xerxes that the eunuchs have taken to her.”
16 Then Memukan replied in the presence of the king and the nobles, “Queen Vashti has done wrong, not only against the king but also against all the nobles and the peoples of all the provinces of King Xerxes. 17 For the queen’s conduct will become known to all the women, and so they will despise their husbands and say, ‘King Xerxes commanded Queen Vashti to be brought before him, but she would not come.’ 18 This very day the Persian and Median women of the nobility who have heard about the queen’s conduct will respond to all the king’s nobles in the same way. There will be no end of disrespect and discord.
19 “Therefore, if it pleases the king, let him issue a royal decree and let it be written in the laws of Persia and Media, which cannot be repealed,that Vashti is never again to enter the presence of King Xerxes. Also let the king give her royal position to someone else who is better than she.20 Then when the king’s edict is proclaimed throughout all his vast realm, all the women will respect their husbands, from the least to the greatest.”
21 The king and his nobles were pleased with this advice, so the king did as Memukan proposed. 22 He sent dispatches to all parts of the kingdom, to each province in its own script and to each people in their own language, proclaiming that every man should be ruler over his own household, using his native tongue.

Usually, the part of the Book of Esther that gets the most attention, by scholars of the Hebrew or First testament, is the story of Purim, and Esther's heroic actions. Many people have never heard of Vashti. Banished when she defied her husband who ordered her to dance before his friends wearing (nothing but) her crown, she is an early example of feminine self-determination in the Scriptures.
This week, the real horror has not been the high school assault made by a 17-year old Brett Kavanaugh. The horror has been the continued assault on social media, in the hearing room, and on TV, on women who dare question the status quo. Who speak up to the culture of rape and violence so clearly elucidated in Kavanaugh's yearbook. (which he lied about)
I have a cat named Vashti. I would probably have a daughter with the name if I'd had one after I studied this text. For women, the decision not to obey the patriarchy, whatever form it takes in your life, is monumental. The refusal to dance. The absolute refusal to be judged by others' standards. The courage of self-determination. 
And make no mistake.  It is not only men who enforce the patriarchy. Women can be the willing emissaries of its rules and restrictions. This has certainly been true in my life. We saw it played out in yesterday's Senate hearing as Rachel Mitchell grilled Dr. Ford in lieu of the white male Senators, with a smile on her matronly face.

My cat Vashti is an indoor cat. She hasn't faced coyotes, hawks, owls, foxes, and the many other predators on our farm. But she's been through four dogs, all much larger than she. All have ultimately backed down from her claws and her snarls. Most have taken some real wallops on the nose to get the message. Nevertheless, she persisted. She's about 13 now, and slowing down. But she's lived up to her name.
I was so excited when I learned that Vashti McCollum was elected the first female Bishop of the AME Church! She lived up to her auspicious name as well.


This is 2018. No human being is entitled to bully, berate, intimidate, demean, or diminish another because they are bigger, richer, whiter, or happen to be male. Or because they give the most money to the church, or they are an adult. 
But this is something women need to do themselves, and with one another.  I love the idea of her banquet. Let's have those! Support and empowerment. Not whining and blaming.
Be Vashtis.



more on the Hebrew Scriptures:

From the New York Jewish Times:
Vashti is attacked by commentators on the Megillah. The Talmud explains that she was the great-granddaughter of Nebuchadnezzar, a Babylonian king who conquered most of the known world and exiled the Jews from Israel for 70 years. (The Purim story takes places during that exile.) Nebuchadnezzar’s grandson, Belshazzar, was king while the Persians destroyed Babylon. When the Persians ransacked the castle, they found Belshazzar’s toddler daughter, Vashti. Cyrus, the king of Persia at the time, decided to marry her to his son Ahasuerus. He thought the Persian monarchy would benefit from her prestigious pedigree.
There are still many Vashtis today, women who are punished because they say no, women who are stuck in abusive relationships. It is imperative that we learn from the Megillah and work to change the culture we live in today.
Support friends who are survivors of rape and domestic violence. Counter rape myths when you hear them. Patronize charities and organizations that help women escape domestic abuse, such as Shalom Bayit, the Shalom Task Force and Stop the Violence. Ensure that women have the courage to say no like Vashti did, but make certain that they will not suffer her end.
Your name reveals the essence of your soul, according to Jewish teaching. In Persian, the name Vashti means goodness. A commentary explains that Vashti comes from the Hebrew word “shtei” meaning two. While Esther is considered the only hero of the Purim story perhaps Vashti can now be counted as the second.
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Believe Survivors. Me Too.

3 October 2018 at 03:49

It’s been a long time since I’ve posted anything. Perhaps the world has been just a bit too overwhelming to be able to congeal my thoughts into something intelligible.  But as I watched the Republican men on the Senate Judiciary Committee put Dr. Christine Blasey Ford on trial last week, while falling over themselves to apologize to her alleged attacker, Brett Kavanaugh, I’ve decided it’s time to speak out again.

So often survivors of sexual assault don’t report, and so often when we do report, we are not believed or treated with suspicion ourselves.  This has been going on for millennia.  It’s really about time that we believe the survivors.

The first time I was violated I was 12 years old. The creepy neighbor who lived next door was a handyman, and he was doing some work in our house. My parents had at some point told me not to go over to his house alone, but they never said why. And they allowed him to come to our house to do work.  It was only a hug, but it was an uninvited and very uncomfortable hug.  I remember that I had a new t-shirt.  He had dirty, greasy hands, and he put his hands on my neck, and then my t-shirt forever had black grease marks from his hands on the back of the neck.

I can tell you exactly where I was standing in the house. I remember where he was standing. I remember what the hug felt like. It was 1974.

Then there was the time when I was 16, and I was walking down Main St. on my way home. A man pulled up along the curb and offered me a ride. I knew I shouldn’t get in a car with someone I didn’t know, but I did anyway.  He was trying to see if he could get me to make some porn for him (he never came out and said that, but it became clear that’s what he meant), and then he groped me. I was terrified. I got out of the car and went home.  And I was convinced it was my own fault, because I knew I shouldn’t have gotten in a car with someone I didn’t know.

I can still see the inside of his car. I can smell it. I can see his hands on me. I can hear his smarmy voice.

When I was 17 I was standing on a subway platform on 168th St.  The platform was empty except for me and a man with big glasses and a trench coat. He exposed himself to me, and then he stood right behind me and began to masturbate. If I moved, he followed. Again, I was terrified.  There were no cell phones in those days.  I didn’t know what to do. When the train arrived, I ran on. I was shaking.  I never reported this to anyone.  I just wanted to get somewhere where I felt safer.  That was in about 1978. I can still see his face.

The summer before I began college, when I was 18, another counselor at the camp where I worked assaulted me.  He grabbed my hand and forced me to touch his genitals. Again, I did not report this to anyone.  It was 1980. I was away from home. Whom would I tell? I remember what it felt like. I remember his face. I remember his voice. I’d prefer not to.

On October 31, 1980, also when I was 18, I was date-raped.  I’d gone out on a Halloween date with a complete loser (I realized that not very long into the date). We’d gone back to his dorm room where I’d felt trapped and where he kept feeding me the line that I “owed him” because he’d bought me dinner. I did what he wanted so that I could leave. Even if I had reported that, in 1980 there was no way it would have been considered an assault. I’d “consented.” No matter that he’d coerced me.

I can see his room. I remember that he was playing “Another One Bites The Dust” (amazingly, I still like the song). I can see him prancing around his room in his stupid cowboy hat.

In 1986, an ex-boyfriend somehow gained access to my apartment building and then knocked on my apartment door.  I wasn’t expecting him, hand’t invited him, but there he was, so I did allow him in.  After a while, he started trashing things in my apartment. First he went into my bathroom and slashed my birth control (I found that out later), and then he came out and picked up a photo of my new boyfriend and smashed it. He’d become violent, and I didn’t know what to do, so I hit him. Which was a mistake, because then he came after me.  I got to the door, and started screaming for my neighbors, and screaming for him to leave.  He started to leave, and I started to close the door, but then he pushed his way back in again, and punched me in the jaw.  Then he finally left, and I called the police.  When the asshole white man cop arrived, he looked at me, and asked me what I’d done to provoke him.

I took creepy ex-boyfriend to court.  The judge asked us to go to a mediator.  He had to pay my medical expenses and reimburse me the damages, and he also agreed to stay away from me. In perpetuity (I also agreed to stay away from him, but frankly, that’s no hardship).

A few years after that, after I’d moved out of that city, I got a card from him. I think he genuinely meant it as a gesture of good will. But it terrified me. It terrified me to think that he knew where I was.  It’s possible that he wrote it out and gave it to someone else to mail — the address was written in different ink than the name. That was 30 years ago, and I still remember getting the note and being terrified that he’d discovered where I lived.

Here’s the thing about my story. It’s not extraordinary. Most of the women I know have stories like these.  Not a few of the women I know. MOST of the women I know. And a few of the men.

And this doesn’t even begin to touch on the harassment.

We have stories like this, and we remember the details.  Even from long ago. What things looked like, smelled like, felt like. We remember.

Believe us.

We will continue to remember. Election day is November 6. We will continue to remember then, as well. Believe us.

That’s all I’ve got. That’s my mite.

Listen up: Women are telling the truth, and a new world is coming

3 October 2018 at 17:38
By: jimfoti

Even before I was a journalist or a minister, friends and strangers have been comfortable telling me just about everything. All I’ve had to do to learn is listen.

I listened when a college friend told me that she had been sexually assaulted by a relative. I listened when another close friend told me that he had been sexually assaulted by one of his relatives, and that his best friend had been assaulted by one of her relatives. I believed their stories, which shifted my perception of the world.

(If you’re a man and no one’s ever told you about a sexual assault, you may want to read this.)

My record of believing victims isn’t perfect. Along the way, I mistakenly doubted a few stories, mostly because I was naive and couldn’t fathom such cruelty. But no one person’s experiences are a universal barometer for what humans are capable of doing to each other.

Sexually abusive behavior is rampant. I see its effects in the faces of the women at the congregation I serve. I hear it in the conversations with every female-identified person in my life. As a gay man, I’m familiar with the exhausting vigilance required to try to stay safe. And for many women and girls, vigilance is not enough to thwart the forces of domination and entitlement that so many men embody.

Domination and entitlement are old habits in this country — European conquest, entitlement to stolen land and to the labor of slaves, wives as property. Such destructive and dehumanizing habits are hard to dislodge when they favor those in power.

As America continues to be roiled by just how bad things have been for women and girls, those whose voices have been silenced or on the margins hold the key to our country’s salvation. They must be at the center of our national discourse, and their suffering, grief, anger, and stories must be heard and believed.

There’s also plenty of speaking up to do for more privileged people like me. I’m male-identified and comfortable in a male body, but traditionally male values like competition and subjugation have never interested me. In elementary school, I was the boy who was fine with standing next to the girls in the lunch line. (They were kinder, more talkative, and would give me their leftover food.) I am not free of sexism, but the idea that women and girls were somehow “other,” or some kind of opposing team, never took root.

The “war between the sexes” is a culturally manufactured conflict that helps men by implying a false equivalency;  in this lopsided “war,” we know which side most often loses. The good news about a culturally manufactured conflict is that it can be culturally dismantled over the long haul.

For women, the cost of sharing their stories – the cost of simply being female – is still far too high. But there are glimmers of hope in all the truth-telling that is pouring forth, and big cultural shifts in the offing. The elementary kids in my daily life don’t self-segregate by gender when they line up for lunch. And a 17-year-old young man I’ve known since birth decries toxic masculinity in ways that we could only dream of hearing from men in Congress — men who should be very afraid indeed.

In the words of Arundhati Roy, “Another world is not only possible, she is on her way.”

The younger generations are poised to do better on gender than the generations currently in power. We need to ensure that there’s a democracy left for them to inherit.

Failure

9 October 2018 at 12:57



 Son #2, BMX


Failure

When my sons were adolescents, and devoted to skateboards and BMX bikes, we visited a skateboard shop called "Failure". I can only guess that the young adults owners' parents told them it would be a failure, or they would, so they embraced the name. I got a bumper sticker, and it lived on my Toyota Camry for about 400,000 miles. That was about 25 years ago, and I'm still learning to embrace the idea. It's one of the most valuable disciplines I can practice.

Seen in D.C.



Kavanope

Last week, as the Senate moved toward confirmation of Brett Kavanaugh in spite of numerous accusations of sexual assault and his own partisan display, not to mention his erratic and unseemly behavior, my family and I were in Washington, DC. Seth knew some things about the story, having heard the news, asked questions, and listened to our conversations. Had we not left on Thursday morning. I might have taken him to see the protests as the Supreme Court, which were starting to accelerate. I can't think of a better way for him to have understood democracy--what's left of it.

Mood.


I didn't believe from the beginning that the Democrats would succeed in keeping Kavanaugh off the bench. Even if, by some miracle, they had, Trump would have come up with another pick, just as far right, equally political, and the GOP would have been so angry and incensed that they may have fared worse in the midterm elections.

Furthermore, in spite of being a victim of sexual assault at a young age, I didn't share the outrage that I heard and saw from my (mostly white) women (mostly colleagues. In fact, it began to trouble me somewhat. Here's why:

* To dwell too heavily upon this insult to our sensibilities in which, yes, once again, women have been been devalued, disbelieved, and discounted, to the point where it brings out more rage than many other things which have happened of late raises the question: Is this white privilege?

* It's tone deaf. Knowing that these very assaults and insults have been the life story of women of color for generations, the alarm and horror, the outrage,  of white women, must look almost comical to women across the globe. Imagine a woman who has endured systematic rape and abuse with no recourse watching a smart, well-off, successful white woman testify that someone almost raped her in high school. Yes, I know myself that this can cause lifetime trauma. I don't question her testimony or her distress. I question our response, as white women.


The People of Failure and Hope

Back to failure. My Buddhist practice and study has taught me that impermanence is the only sure thing. All human endeavor will fail. None of us will conquer death, illness, or loss. Acknowledging the inevitability of failure is a spiritual process and practice that is not easy, but can bring equanimity.

On our trip to D.C., we visited the new African American Museum of Culture and History. It is a celebration of triumph and a mourning of loss and horror. The history of Black people in the U.S. is one of suffering, and also one of triumph.

cafe at National Museum of African American History and Culture.


The next day, Seth asked to go to the Holocaust museum. He said he knew about the Holocaust, and the museum exhibits were presented in a way that was less alarming than I might have expected. But he had not known that disabled people were the first to be destroyed. Many exhibits emphasized this, so it was impossible to downplay. He knew this would have included him. We skipped quite a bit of the latter part, but at the end, we had a chance to talk with a Holocaust survivor. I explained to her that Seth had Autism, and she talked with him at length, telling him that people could be mean, be bullies, but there were kind and good people too, and we must always be kind. He listened intently, and after, he cried and hugged me.


The Jews understood, and African Americans understand, after unfathomable loss, and total failure, something remains. Love, humanity, and goodness. Therein lies our faith. Some call it God.




Acceptance

I had so many dreams last week. I didn't recall all of the details, but I know they moved me forward. The failures and losses in my life have been so many of late that It has felt overwhelming. I've reached a point with all my siblings that to both be honest with them and continue a relationship seems impossible. I've had problems communicating with my grown children. I wrote years ago on this blog about how ministry is failure. The home our family has owned for 70 years is being sold in a manner that is duplicitous and hurtful. My chronic migraines have worsened in a way that has prevented me moving forward with writing and other projects. And, on this trip, we realized once again how limiting life with an Autistic child is. Seth really can't endure much in the way of travel, or sight-seeing, his interests are very narrow, and his anxiety is overpowering. All normal, but our expectations were far too high. Each of these things separately can be managed, but each is really beyond my control, and with the help of my dreams, the contemplation I had some time for, and some intervention from God, I came at last to a place I can be a peace with. I made decisions. I accepted finitude, loss, impermanence, and failure again.

Failure. Some call it surrender. Or, life.









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FAULT LINES

9 October 2018 at 23:35







8/5/2012


POEM, “Fault Line”
California is so many things, but it’s hard to think about California without thinking of earthquakes. The San Andreas Fault and its handiwork is plainly visible. Research has shown that the Southern segment, which stretches from Monterey  all the way down to the Salton Sea, is capable of a Richter scale 8.1 earthquake. An earthquake of that size on the Southern segment (which, at its closest, is 40 miles away from Los Angeles) would kill thousands of people in Los Angeles, San Bernandino, Riverside, and other areas, and cause hundreds of billions of dollars in property and economic damage.
Isn’t is great to live in such a safe part of the country?
Maybe..……in November 2008, The U.S. Federal Emergency Management Agency warned that a serious earthquake in the New Madrid Seismic Zone could result in "the highest economic losses due to a natural disaster in the United States," further predicting "widespread and catastrophic" damage across Alabama, Arkansas, Illinois, Indiana, Kansas, Kentucky, Mississippi, Missouri, Oklahoma, Texas, and particularly Tennessee, where a 7.7 magnitude quake or greater would cause damage to tens of thousands of structures affecting water distribution, transportation systems, and other vital infrastructure.[22] The earthquake is expected to also result in many thousands of fatalities.
Maybe, we all live on the edge, but Californians just can’t deny it.
As writer Alice Gregory notes upon moving East:
In California, you know when you’re burning. The brightness hurts, and when you close your eyes, you see red. The cliffs are high and jagged, the ocean smashes the shoreline, and landslides really can bring you down. There you are dwarfed and powerless. There are earthquakes; and mudslides; and for about three months of the year, entire regions of the state threaten to spontaneously combust. You wouldn’t dare sleep naked in California—you might need to run outside in the middle of the night, awakened to a rattling house and a mile-deep fissure in your front lawn.

We love to watch the Olympics for many reasons, not the least of which is that moment of suspense and the drama of the competitors’ expressions of joy or defeat. Vicariously, we relive our own near-triumphs and empathize, or imagine the glorious moment of victory and feel envy or admiration.  I love the synchronized diving and the moment the divers poise on the edge of the board. Every muscle of their bodies must be perfectly attuned, and to my way of thinking there must be a spiritual as well as a visual/mechanical connection in order for these dives to be so perfectly harmonized, almost poetic.
But there, as they pause on the edge, everything is potential: victory, defeat, even danger, and yet they voluntarily do this over and over again! So, of course, do we. (CIM)
Each day we arise is a journey to the edge.
We have only to acknowledge our own vulnerability to understand how close we really come.
And I am not just referring to our physical risk, although that is greater than we acknowledge, given the way we hurtle down the freeways at enormous speeds, live, eat, and move in ways that are contraindicated for longevity and comfort; and all of the many toxic and violent threats of modern life. I am also referring to what I am just going to call our own theological fault lines. Those potential rifts and separations that we pretend not to observe, that we neglect at our own expense. You can only live deceptively and selfishly for so long before it begins to consume you. You can see these upheavals in peoples bodies and faces.
When our USA men’s diving team was waiting to see whether they would win a Bronze medal or no medal at all, their reactions were so different. The younger man (age 17) was fraught with anxiety. The older of the two, who was actually more on the edge in this case, since he is 34 and would not have another chance to ever win a medal, was smiling. He looked okay to me. He stayed with the younger guy even though he preferred to not watch the other results.  I actually have no idea but I would like to think he was at peace because he had done his best. If you watched TV at all this week, you probably know, they did win the bronze medal.
Here is my point.
Whether we acknowledge it, live in denial, glimpse it from time to time, we are all living on the edge. There is really so little separating us from huge loss and disaster. (mention Colo, 4th anniversary of Knoxville, etc…) When we know this, we have a choice. We can  figuratively grasp and compete and consume one another, acting as if nothing but our own survival, winning, getting through,  surviving , the  “bottom line,” how things come out, and fixing everything that is wrong is really what it’s all about. You may have guessed by now that this is not what I would recommend theologically.
However, I see people acting this way every day, as if the product were more important than the person. Yes, even Unitarian Universalists. Sometimes, even myself.
But when I meditate upon the edge, the fault line of my own existence, spend some time in that land where we all live theologically, where no one finally survives, then I know the answer is love, respect and decency for every human I encounter, and I can return to other humans, regardless of how hungrily they may be licking their chops, with kindness and regard.
C.S. Lewis talks with one of his college students about
why we love if losing hurts so much, Lewis who lost his mother as a
child and his wife as an adult, responds, “I have no answers anymore,
only the life I have lived. Twice in that life...  I've been given
the choice: As a boy... and as a man. The boy chose safety. The man
chooses suffering. The pain now is part of the happiness then. That's
the deal.”

Taking this to a universal level we can look to Joanna Macy, Buddhist teacher and eco-feminist. Macy states that feeling that one
must always be hopeful can wear a person out, but if we just show
up, and be present, do not pull down the blinds, the possibilities
exist that the world will heal. She believes there is a new paradigm
occurring that is known as “The Great Turning.” The Great Turning
is a concept she helped coin and define. Macy calls The Great
Turning “the essential adventure of our time: the shift from the
industrial growth society to a life-sustaining civilization.” She
says it is a time of transition from a bankrupt political society,
which measures success by growth and profit and is being replaced
by moral strength, courage and creativity. The generations alive
today may not see a drastic change in their lives or environment
but the choices we make for profit today will effect the beings in
the next hundreds and thousands of years and determine whether
they will be born of sound mind and body.

So when we feel ourselves in those places of fear and anxiety, let us turn toward one another with love as the first principle, and we will find our way.
The shifting plates, the restive earth, your room, your precious life, they all proceed from love, the ground on which we walk, together.

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Cruelty: The Worst Thing We Do

10 October 2018 at 17:00
Rev. Meredith Garmon

Dear Unitarian Universalists,

I just want to say: thanks! Thank you for siding with love. And against cruelty.

Isn't everyone against cruelty? As someone raised UU, I grew up assuming that was the case.

In January 2007, LoraKim and I were living in Gainesville, Florida, so of course we watched the NCAA football championship game that month, and of course we rooted for the home team Florida Gators against the Ohio State Buckeyes. When Florida, slight underdogs going into the game, won 41-14, I was glad. All around me the town was celebrating.

I was in a celebratory mood myself, and left the TV on for post-game reporting. Post-game shows seem to like to include fan reaction segments -- don't ask me why. They cut to a scene in Columbus, Ohio and showed a woman bedecked in OSU red and white. She was dejected, of course. In fact, she was crying. The broadcast cut back to a Gainesville bar, and two young men who had been watching the bar TV and had just seen the shot of the Ohio woman crying. The young men gleefully jeered and mocked her.

That was the moment I lost interest in college football. I'd been a football fan all my life, and I understood that jeering and mocking the opposition before the game -- and a certain amount of gloating afterward from partisans of the victor -- were to be expected. Yet I was unprepared for the delight I saw being taken in another's pain: the evident pleasure in cruelty for its own sake. The brief shot of those celebrating Gator fans haunted me. As I processed my horror, a more extreme example of the same phenomenon rose to mind: the photos I'd seen from the 1920s of smiling, celebratory white faces at the lynching of a black person.

All of this came back to me this week as I read Adam Serwer's article, "The Cruelty is the Point," and Lili Loofbourow's "Brett Kavanaugh and the Cruelty of Male Bonding." Cruelty, directed toward women, apparently functions as a bonding mechanism for some men, a means "for intimacy through contempt." Oh, dear God.

Political theorist Judith Shklar is credited with saying "liberals are the people who think cruelty is the worst thing we do." I am quick to distinguish a religious liberal and a political liberal, recognizing that many people are religiously liberal and politically conservative. I don't know if viewing cruelty as "the worst thing we do" is actually any less prominent among political conservatives than political liberals, but Shklar's point resonates with me as a characterization of religious liberals. Moreover, I have always appreciated that Shklar's way of putting it avoids claiming that liberals actually are less cruel -- just that, when we are, or discover that we have been, we think of it as "being at our worst."

My life as a Unitarian Universalist has kept me in the company of people with an intuitive revulsion to cruelty -- people who see cruelty as, indeed, worse than, say, betrayal, dishonor, subversion, cowardice, or desecration -- which, of course, can also be devastating human failings. I'm so grateful to all of you who keep UU congregations going, who give your lives to sustaining liberal religious communities, who see cruelty as the worst thing we do and therefore see care and kindness as the best, and who keep lit the flame of care and kindness as the supreme value. During these times when the celebration of cruelty -- seems to be ascendant, the only hope I see is . . . you -- the people who side with love. Thank you. You're lifesavers!

Gratefully, so gratefully yours,
Meredith

Belonging to Our Longings

12 October 2018 at 13:55
By: Karen
I’ve been doing a lot of longing lately. Every morning’s headlines shouting something I wish were otherwise, I long for the world to be different than it is. Not for the way things were (which has never been that great). But longing for the shared wellbeing and right relationship of Beloved Community, which points me […]

From Capture to Criminal -- Juneteenth 2018

16 October 2018 at 18:22
Petra Thombs

June 19th was the 153rd commemoration of Juneteenth, an acknowledgement of the end of slavery in the US for African Americans. June 18, was the 566th, anniversary of the signing of the papal bull from 1452, Dum Diversas, which began the process of the enslavement of Africans by Europeans. The effects of these edicts have been far reaching. Consider now that in two days, we will acknowledge the four-year anniversary of the death of Eric Garner. This is in memorial to him:

In a matter of minutes, he was on the ground, the officers arm wrapped around his neck in a choke-hold. He had just said, “please don’t touch me.” And all for supposedly selling loose cigarettes. (Did he actually have any product on him?) Officers had crowded around him, and as he was a large man, it took several of them to force him to the ground. As he lay there, the one who choked him had his hand pressed on Mr. Garner's head. He whispers, “I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe, I can’t breathe. The coroner’s report labeled Eric Garner's death a murder by asphyxiation. The officer was not indicted, yet the one who claimed Eric Garner was a criminal, was himself one. He was guilty of over policing, invading Mr. Garner’s space, capturing him, subduing him by use of an illegal choke-hold and vanquishing him on the sidewalk of a Staten Island street. What gave him the right to create such harm, such destruction to a Black body? Trayvon Martin was pursued by a neighborhood watch man who was off duty and was told by the police in his 911 call, not to pursue the teen. Sandra Bland was stopped for not signaling while making a turn, Freddie Grey was pursued for not making eye contact, Tamir Rice was killed in one minute of police arriving for holding a toy gun in a public park, something white children do every day without fear. Orlando Castile was shot and bled to death for identifying that he had a weapon and a carry permit, during a traffic stop. Most recently, Antwon Rose II, an unarmed seventeen-year-old, was shot three times in the back by a rookie officer, who was only sworn in that same morning. Those who protest this unjust treatment are also demonized, such as Collin Kaepernick, football players who take a knee and the Black Lives Matter movement. To invade, capture, subdue and vanquish, these are the directives of the papal bulls of the fifteenth century, living prominently in our modern day, causing terror in communities of color.

We see this terrorizing at our southern borders as well, with children, babies, being captured and subdued as their parents are vanquished for the supposed crime of seeking asylum. This is only taking place with Black and Brown families. The use of scripture, specifically Romans 13, is a favorite for those looking to enforce enslavement, or subjugation of any kind. The completed verse is as follows:
“Be in debt to no one -- the only debt you should have is to love one another…all of the commandments are summed up into one command, 'Love your neighbor as yourself.' To love, then, is to obey the whole law.” (Romans 13:8-10)
When the Japanese were captured during WWII, and placed in internment camps, their property was seized. Many owned businesses such as retail shops. Many owned farms which were thriving and were strong competition for American farmers, particularly in California. Their farm lands were seized by the government and auctioned off. When the detention period was over, they never regained their property. The very late reparations given to them would not come close to compensating for their losses.

Former Federal prosecutor, Paul Butler clearly articulates the facts in his book Chokehold stating,
“Cops routinely hurt and humiliate Black people because that is what they are paid to do. Virtually every objective investigation of a U. S. law enforcement agency finds that the police treat African Americans with contempt...the official practices of police departments include violating the(ir) rights...The police kill, wound, pepper spray, beat up, detain, frisk, handcuff, and use dogs against blacks in circumstances in which they do not do the same to white people.”
So, indeed, Mr. Garner’s cop assailant, engaged in a criminal act against him. Our moral obligation to these horrendous situations is to ask why? Why does this happen (Butler, 2-3)?

These Papal Bulls operate in our culture today, because we are historically tied to our past, we are tied to the mindset, culture and actions of criminalizing the Other. The world view of ancient Greece and Rome lived on through the church over the ages. Nativism leeched into the policies of the papal bulls after the defeat of the Moors on the Iberian Peninsula, bringing about the inquisition and the horrors of that period. Good Christian people tortured fleeing Moors and Jews, in order to cleanse their land of these so-called infidels. This justification is revenge and a sense of righteousness. What created this historical mindset begins at an even earlier age, in 98 CE, with Tacitus, a Roman historian, who authored the influential writing known as Germania. This was considered to be one of the most dangerous books ever written -- perhaps not for what he said but for how it was perceived. Author Kelly Brown Douglass explains this theory in her book Stand Your Ground; superiority has precedence to take on a righteous cause.
“In the brief space of thirty pages, Tacitus offered an ethnological perspective that would play a significant role in the Nazi’s monstrous program of racial purity. Subsequently, it became the racial specter behind the stand-your-ground culture that robbed Trayvon Martin of his life.”
Tacitus’ writings created a construct for white supremacy, insisting that only a certain people of ancient German ancestry possessed superior attributes in character, intellect, in their systems of governance, in their religious institutions and in their society as a whole. The myth further evolved to focus on the blood of the people, emphasizing its purity and the belief in a characterization of white Anglo-Saxon superiority. Its chauvinism made its way across the Atlantic with our founding fathers, to be instilled into our culture. This is the justification of enslavement that Thomas Jefferson wrote of in his Notes on the State of Virginia, that Benjamin Franklin promoted and that George Washington enforced. The Anglo-Saxon language deified by the English has created a belief in our national language -- our mandate for English only, which serves as our country’s internal border wall against any other language, especially those spoken by people of color.

In these two writings, these subjugating entities, that of Tacitus and the papal bulls, specifically the right of superiority and the right to use it to subjugate non-European Christian peoples, our western culture is armed and fueled with the fire of patriarchy to go forth and conquer the world.

And so, it began. Columbus, by all standards, was lost, but he knew his rights as a European Christian when he encountered the Indigenous people on the island he named San Salvador. According to his diary, “They would make fine servants...with fifty men, we could subjugate them and make them do whatever we want.”

Although the church at the time and the nobility as well, professed that these people were to be converted to the faith, they would none the less remain Barbarians. They could never be equal to Christians, even if they were baptized, they were no more than “baptized beasts” (Doctrine of Discovery, Stephen Newcomb). The edicts allow for righteous Christians to do the work of the church and handle these difficulties for God. These individuals are deemed to be enemies of Christ. Over time, the identity of white becomes synonymous with Christians. This is no longer the work of the church, this is the work of the imperial state. Often times, it’s hard to tell difference. These newly baptized beasts are not equal, but they have a place in this society. They are to do the work. They will do the work that we won’t do. This justifies placing them into perpetual slavery.

The Emancipation Proclamation creates a dilemma for this nation: if these “beasts” are not here to do the work for us, then we have a problem. If they are claiming to be equal to us, that defies what we have believed about them for all the ages. The Thirteenth Amendment provides the answer. They are free, unless they commit a felony, at which time we can then re-enslave them, bring them back into balance with our beliefs with the “laws of humanity” (Doctrine of Discovery). Michelle Alexander points out in The New Jim Crow, that the Thirteenth Amendment was finalized during Southern Redemption, and leaves the estate of the felon (and the felon himself) to essentially be “that of a dead man” (Alexander, 31).

Given that, Eric Garner, a large, heavy set, dark-skinned Black man, had to be put down. He did not appear subdued and dared to speak up in his own defense and assert his rights. He had to be taught a lesson. (“Professor Luban describes) the torturer’s work is inflicting ‘pain one-on-one, deliberately, up close and personal, in order to break the spirit of the victim’- in other words, to tyrannize and dominate the victim” (Butler, 113). “Stop and frisk demonstrates who is in charge, and the consequences of dissent” (113). Apparently, Mr. Garner, paid a high price for his statement of protest. He did not have the right to say, “do not touch me.”

(In the case known as Terry, sets the scene and) Our legal system empowers law enforcement to do whatever they need to do to invade. Author Andrea Richie, describes the indignities of being searched by police. When she objected to him searching through her purse and taking out her identification photo, he said, “I can do whatever I want, because you are my prisoner” (Invisible No More, Richie, 86-7). Butler states,} this makes “law abiding citizens outsiders to democracy.” This happens because certain court cases have set the precedent. Statistics presented in McCleskey v. Kemp indicate that Blacks are far more likely to receive the death penalty for killing whites, than white people convicted of killing Blacks would ever get for the same crime. A Black person killing a white person was twenty-two times more likely to get the death penalty. Despite this data, the court ruling was actually worse than in Plessey v, Ferguson. This case was allowed, in what Butler calls a, “good enough for black people, kind of justice” (122-3).

I had said that this was an act of state, but the church has it way of staying involved in these matters. On July 14, 2015, an Interfaith Prayer service took place at Mount Sinai United Christian Church on Staten Island, blocks away from where Eric Garner was killed. The service marked the one-year anniversary, although an article in The Catholic paper, did not indicate that a crime had taken place in regard to his death. Cardinal Dolan presided over the service and inquired about healing and reconciliation.
“Could the grief that began a year ago just down the street from here and seemed to ooze like a toxic oil spill to places like Ferguson, Baltimore, Charleston, and Brooklyn and beyond…be an occasion of repentance and renewal?”
Cardinal Dolan asked. Could this year-long trial transform us? From death to life? From winter to spring? He then suggested it could, “but that we must first acknowledge the supremacy of God.”

I find the use of the word supremacy, rather triggering in any context in which Blacks have been made to suffer. Mrs. Garner’s husband was killed and yet there is no word of sympathy or effort to console. Is she not worthy of receiving compassion as a grieving widow? I understand that His Eminence is looking to contain and socially control the outrage of the community through the widow of Eric Garner. But how can that be, since he refuses to name the issue at heart, which is the dehumanizing treatment and criminalization of Black people? How can we heal if the sin is not named and the actions associated with it are not addressed? How can we reconcile if the society perpetuates an unequal and unjust dynamic, authorizing the continual subjugation of its citizenry? Why does this widow need repentance? When will the police be held accountable? Scripture demands justice for widows and orphans, the poor and disenfranchised. What actions have been taken to address this situation? Dr. King spoke of the appalling silence of the good people, particularly of his fellow clergy. The late James Cone, father of Black Liberation theology, railed against mainstream theologians for refusing to address race and racism. He was particularly critical of Reinhold Niebuhr. In his book The Cross and the Lynching Tree, Cone wrote,
“During Niebuhr’s lifetime, lynching was the most brutal manifestation of white supremacy. He said and did very little about it. Should we be surprised that other white theologians, ministers and churches followed suit?"
Our Unitarian Universalist principles are based on a covenant -- to love and to serve, acknowledging the inherent dignity and worth of all. We know that standing with disenfranchised communities means taking on political, even alienating positions. We cannot risk supporting the deception of the state, creating an illusion of justice knowing full well justice is not in the offing. So many churches are orchestrating a criminal enterprise in order to maintain a seat of power aligned to the state. What reconciliation can be made, when the only connection that is sought is not the “supremacy of God” but the supremacy of the empire, whose ultimate goal is the vanquishing of a people? It’s clear that the cardinal refused to acknowledge the issue at hand. The human connection that was needed in this moment was not given; the disconnect and absence of respect was palpable. It is not only sometimes that we experience this, it is day to day, and moment to moment. This is one of many aspects of the legacy of the Papal Bulls -- continually leaking into our current reality, wreaking havoc in communities of color; we must be mindful of its existence.

In our Unitarian Universalist racial justice circles we continually ask ourselves why are we not making more progress? In order to be able to combat these entities which prevent us from creating the beloved community, we need to know the history; that these entities operate continually, claiming to be on our behalf, in order to preserve this society's structure and power dynamic. Know that it keeps all of us hostage, it is social control, hampering our humanity, making it difficult for any of us to breathe.

Bibliography

Michelle Alexander, The New Jim Crow (New York, NY: The New Press, 2012)

Paul Butler, Chokehold: Policing Black Men (New York, NY: The New Press, 2017)

Kelly Brown Douglas, Stand your Ground: Black Bodies and the Justice of God (Maryknoll, NY: Orbis Books, 2015)

Andrea Ritchie, Invisible No More: Police Violence Against Black Women and Women of Color (Boston, MA: Beacon Press, 2011)

Prayers for Transgender Justice

23 October 2018 at 14:25

In March 2016, the Transforming Hearts Collective partnered with the Religious Institute for a National Weekend of Prayer for Transgender Justice. To kick things off, we wrote a prayer and reached out to some of our fellow trans faith leaders from many spiritual traditions to offer prayers from their traditions. We share them here in love and gratitude.

GENERAL PRAYER

Offered by the Transforming Hearts Collective

Spirit of life and love that resides within and among us, we enter this moment with all that we are, with an open heart, and with a love for justice.

We hold in love and prayer all transgender people, so many of whom live under the weight of violence, fear, and intolerance. We hold in love and prayer all the ways that transgender people have survived and thrived in a hostile world. We hold in love and prayer all who recognize the significance of gender justice for all people.

We who believe in freedom will not rest until it comes. We pray for the dawn of a new day when the very humanity of trans people is no longer called into question or ignored. We pray that physical, emotional, and spiritual violence will come to an end. We pray that a spirit of compassion and care will fill us to overflowing, that we may have the capacity to listen, learn, and grow not only in our awareness but also in our willingness to act. We pray for teachers, spiritual leaders, social workers, lawyers, and all people who heed the call to support trans liberation, trans leadership, and trans visibility. May they ultimately lean into the Light of truth and justice, offering hope to Trans and gender nonconforming youth and adults.

On this day, we commit and recommit to creating a world where people of all genders know peace, love, and justice. We commit and recommit to living lives of compassion and care for all of humanity. We commit and recommit to the healing work of relationship-building that will help every person know, no matter their gender or sexuality, that they are loved and valued.

BUDDHIST/ANCESTRY PRAYER

Offered by Fresh! White, Minister of Love, mindfulness practitioner, student of Buddhist philosophy and spirituality

Dear Ancestor Spirits: Please hear our prayer.

Remind us to breathe deep in each moment, touching our lives from within, as we honor you there.

Remind us to reach back to you who were here long before we began counting time, or needing labels to describe ourselves as human beings.

You goddesses, warriors, and kings; healers, priests, shamans, two-spirit; family and friends; share with us your wisdom, that we may know the power of community, and understand we are already ONE, we need only self-love and compassion so that we can truly let each other in!

Dear Spirit/Creator/Higher Power/Goddess/God/Universe/Mother Earth…You who are calling us forward: Remind us that we are deserving and there is enough! Enough space in this world, in the hearts of this world, and in our communities, for All of Us to be, do, and have All our heart’s “true” desires: To be safe, Loved and happy as our authentic spiritual selves!

Dear Spirits, Collectively: We call on All of you at this time, to come and breathe with and through us, as we walk our paths towards equity and freedom. Remind us that each breath is not just for this moment (the most important one), it’s also for our future! With you, we remember that no matter where we are, when we can be truly present, we can and do create our future.

We give thanks to you Dear Spirits for bringing us this far; for calling forth our authenticity so that we can be free to clear the hurdles in our paths for our own taking, and also for our youth, and seniors, those of us at higher risk of inner and outer harm, the lonely. With your guidance, we can work together to create a more just and equitable; safe, strong and healthy life experience for those within, and beyond the transgender spectrum; for all beings.

In remembrance of our sisters, brothers and others lost to violence in all forms, Please Hear Our Prayers! Ashe! Aho! Amen! Blessed Be!

CHRISTIAN PRAYER

Offered by Rev. Debra J. Hopkins, Black trans woman, minister at Sacred Souls Community Church, Charlotte, NC

Loving Creator, Let the rain come and wash away the ancient grudges, the bitter hatreds held and nurtured over generations. Let the rain wash away the memory of the heart, and neglect. Then Oh God, let the sun come out and fill the sky with beautiful rainbows.

Let the warmth of the Sun heal us wherever we are broken. Let It burn away the fog so that each of us sees each other clearly. So that we can move beyond labels, beyond accents, gender, sexual orientation, or skin color. Let the warmth and brightness of the sun melt our selfishness. So that we can share the joy and sorrow of our neighbors. And let the light of the sun be so strong that we will see all people as our neighbors.

Let the Earth, nourished by rain, bring forth flowers to surround us with your beauty, and let the mountains teach our hearts to reach upward to heaven. Then, Dear God, grant us comfort, give us peace, and allow us strength to enable us to Stand up, Fight for, and be a Voice for Equality. In Jesus’ name, Amen!

JEWISH PRAYER 

Offered by Rabbi Emily Aviva Kapor-Mater, radical transfeminist rabbi, author, and activist, Seattle, WA

אלהינו ואלהי אבותינו ואמותינו, ברך את קהילתינו הטרנס הקדושה, את כל עדת הטרנס, ואת כל העוברים על גבולי החיים. תן לנו חיים ושמחה מאת אוצר ברכותך, ופרוש עלינו סוכת שלומך. יהי בכוחינו לברוא ולהתברא, ליצור ולהתיצר, ולקיים רצונך לאהוב את הבריאות ולרדוף את השלום. למדנו אמת וצדק, כי אתה הוא מגן לכל הדכופים. שלח הצלה וצדקה לכל עדתינו, ויהי חסדך עמנו כאשר היה עם אבותינו ואמותינו. ברוך אתה, האל העושה צדקה ושלום לכל העוברים על גבולי החיים.

Our God and God of our ancestors, we ask your blessing upon our community, the holy assembly of all transgender people, and upon all who cross over the boundaries of life. Grant us life and happiness from your abundance of blessings, and spread over us the shelter of Your peace. Grant us the strength to create and to be created, to form and to be formed, and to fulfill Your will to love all creation and to pursue peace. Teach us truth and justice, for You are a shield for all the oppressed. Send relief and righteousness to all our community, and may Your goodness be with us as it was with our ancestors. Blessed are You, God who makes justice and peace for all who cross over the boundaries of life.

MUSLIM PRAYER

Offered by Qasima Wideman, Queer Black Muslim, Durham, NC

In the name of Allah, the Lover, the Gentle, the Kind, grant us in our souls a temple, a shrine, a mosque, a church, where we may kneel before an altar where no walls and no names exist. Unite our hearts together and guide us out of darkness into freedom and light. Grant us the power of our ancestors who protected one another from oppression, and who helped one another to stand in your light. Anoint us with patience, strengthen our footsteps and grant us victory over those who reject us. Break our kindred in prisons free of their shackles and reunite our families. Cleanse and heal the souls of our fallen trans kindred with water, ice and snow; and expand their entry into your Garden. Open a path for us to freedom that leaves no one behind.

NATIVE TRADITIONALIST PRAYER

Offered by Pastor Lynn Young, Two Spirit of Lakota heritage, Seminarian at Chicago Theological Seminary

Great Mystery, We lift up our prayers in the ancient ways of our people. Lead us to the path of wisdom and understanding; let all of us live together in sacred kinship.

We hold in love and sacredness all transgender people as sacred children of your creation, who all too often live in fear under the weight of violence and close-mindedness. We hold in love and prayer all of the ways in which transgender people have survived and thrived in this world designed by you for peace, but that exists now in hostility. We hold in love and prayer all who have ever felt the crushing weight of oppression, the invisibility of disregard, or the searing pain that results from denials of their very humanity.

We pray for trans people everywhere, your sacred children. Remind them, and remind us all, that when we gaze at our reflection in a still pond or a mirror’s surface a manifestation of your divine spirit gazes back at us. We pray that the energy of the four winds, and the power of our ancestors bring the spirit of wisdom and compassion to leaders, advocates, and trans people.

As we walk the path of sacredness each day, guide our feet to what is good, wise, and right; help us walk in a good way. May we all be agents of wisdom and compassion, offering hope to trans and gender nonconforming youth that is too often hard to come by.

Great Spirit, fill us with light, warm us with your teachings. Help us to walk the soft Earth with clear sight, as loving relatives to all creation. Aho.

UNITARIAN UNIVERSALIST PRAYER

Offered by Rev. Theresa I. Soto, non-binary queer Latinx Unitarian Universalist minister

Spirit of Life, In these difficult times, we ask for connection, to You, to ourselves, to one another, and to our greater purpose. We turn toward you, like a swift breeze, able to bring refreshment and life to our hearts that are burdened. We know that you know that transness is life and that You accept us and all the ways that we are, not as part of being human but as a multiplicity of expressions of love.

We call on you for strength, as the way before is long, and we have so far to travel. We travel toward Justice. Keep us focused on that. And to make that journey, we need safety and courage in equal measure. Give us both.

Soften the hearts of those who are causing their own suffering by clutching their transphobia so tightly. Show them the way back to their own humanity.

But above all, we ask for more love, around us, among us, between us. We give thanks and say amen.

Attached media: https://web.archive.org/web/20211109035408/https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/589767cae58c62ed8ac20bc5/1540304634361-XPA2OXMUJ8KLMKE7X66H/prayers+for+trans+justice.jpg?format=1500w&content-type=image%2Fjpeg

Leaves. Branches, Trunk, and Roots

24 October 2018 at 15:00
This is the text of the reflections I offered at the congregation I serve in Charlottesville, Virginia on Sunday, October 21, 2018 You can find it in the myths and folklore of pretty much all Mesoamerican cultures; it shows up in lot's of other cultures, too.  Hungarians called it, “égig érő fa,” the Sky-High Tree, and “életfa,” the Tree of Life.  To the Norse it was, “Yggdrasil,”

What is lifted rises

5 November 2018 at 14:10
By: Karen
The horrific news of recent weeks feels impossible to bear. Like many others, I have cried, raged, railed, lamented, sought community and sat in desolate silence. This week’s elections may bring what some will call victory, but no matter which winners are declared, we will remain a country dangerously divided. It is important to ask […]

What Grounds Us?

5 November 2018 at 20:35
This is the text of the reflections I offered on Sunday, November 4, 2018, to the congregation I serve in Charlottesville, Virginia.  Sort of.  I preached from notes, so this is my best reconstruction of what I'd said.  (In places I'm sure this reflects more what I wish I'd said!) In Yarmouth, Maine the area clergy would get together once a month for lunch.  At least they did while I was there.

When Gratitude Travels

20 November 2018 at 17:11
By: Karen
This Thanksgiving, I am thinking about travelers. Not just the 54 million of us in the U.S. who will travel to a holiday gathering this week, but especially the thousands traveling in the migrant caravan now arriving on the U.S. border. In a news video of their arrival, I have seen the gratitude in their […]

Peace on Earth -- and Justice

2 December 2018 at 00:07
Meredith Garmon

During this holiday season, we will frequently see, hear, and perhaps say the words, "Peace on Earth." Unitarians have been noticing that the words do not match the reality at least since Unitarian poet Henry Wadsworth Longfellow wrote the carol, "I Heard the Bells on Christmas Day" in 1863: "For hate is strong and mocks the song of peace on earth, good will to men," wrote Longfellow. The challenge to us is to take the words, "Peace on Earth," to heart, reflect on what we've done in the past year to build peace, and what we will commit to do in 2019.

Let us attend, as well, to Justice on Earth, for peace and justice are intricately interconnected. There will be no peace without justice (for human beings systemically denied justice will agitate for it, including turning to violence when there is no other recourse) -- and, too, no justice without peace (for human beings under attack focus on defending themselves, not fairness to others). I take this not as a chicken-and-egg insoluble dilemma, but as indicating the need to gradually build both at the same time. On the "Justice on Earth" side, I recommend a book of that title.

Our Unitarian Universalist Association selects a Common Read every year, which all UUs are urged to read. The Common Read for 2018-19 is: Manish Mishra-Marzetti and Jennifer Nordstrom, Eds., Justice on Earth: People of Faith Working at the Intersections of Race, Class, and Environment (Skinner House Books, 2018). Here's what UUA says about it:
"At a time when racial justice, environmental justice, and economic justice are seen as issues competing for time, attention, and resources, Justice on Earth explores the ways in which the three are intertwined. Those on the margins are invariably those most affected by climate disaster and environmental toxins. The book asks us to recognize that our faith calls us to long-haul work for justice for our human kin, for the Earth and for all life. It invites us to look at our current challenges through a variety of different perspectives, offers tools to equip us for sustained engagement, and proposes multiple pathways for follow-up action."
The book is available from the UUA bookstore (HERE), or Amazon (HERE). Let's read it, talk about it, engage with these ideas, and learn how we can more skillfully contribute to the building of a world of justice and peace.

Hope that Breathes

3 December 2018 at 16:10

Reading from Vaclav Havel 

Hope is a state of mind, not of the world. Either we have hope or we don’t.  It is not essentially dependent on some particular observation of the world or estimate of the situation. Hope is not prognostication. It is an orientation of the spirit, an orientation of the heart; it transcends the world that is immediately experienced, and is anchored somewhere beyond its horizons….

Hope, in this deep and powerful sense, is not the same as joy that things are going well, or willingness to invest in enterprises that are obviously heading for success, but rather an ability to work for something because it is good, not just because it stands a chance to succeed.

Hope is definitely not the same thing as optimism. It is not the conviction that something will turn out well, but the faith that something makes sense, regardless of how it turns out.  

Sermon – Hope that Breathes

Right this moment, there are thousands of people –mothers, children, fathers, grandparents, young adults – all sorts of people, walking together, across thousands of miles, walking north, towards the US southern border.

Some news reports have said there are four or five thousand of them walking together. Try to imagine it. 

Four or five thousand people walking through an area all at once, like four or five thousand people just walking up I-25.  

It’s incredible.

I think about how hard it was last weekend to get my family of four to walk across the mall parking lot and into the movie theatre.

It’s hard to believe there is not something or someone organizing this massive group across such a tremendous distance.   

Which is maybe why some of the conspiracy theories on the political right have gotten some traction.

“It didn’t just happen,” President Trump said at a campaign rally in mid-October, speaking about the caravan. He was implying they were funded and organized as a political strategy.

Last week – on a video call with over 150 folks from across the country – I realized that in some ways, the President is right –  It didn’t “just happen.”  

It was a call with activists and aid workers working at the border.  They were trying to break through the news cycles and into the realities experienced by the people who are actually on the ground.  

People who have been there for months, in actual relationship with the thousands who are reaching our borders – Which it turns out are not just coming in one caravan, as the news reports and sound bites seem to indicate, but multiple, with new ones forming all the time.  At last count, there were 8 caravans traveling together across central America and Mexico, with at least 17,000 people making this journey north.

This is the new face of migration, as people have come to realize that it is safer when they travel together. One of the aid workers on the call told us she had asked the people she’s working with directly – what had organized them, and what was keeping them going….

“What’s organizing us?” one responded.  “Misery, and Poverty.”

Another added, “and courage.”

Misery, and poverty, and courage.

In a certain way, the President and others are wrong –this caravan actually did “just happen.”  It is an organic, emergent force. And at the same time….it didn’t.  There is clearly a connecting, driving force, inspiring these thousands of people across thousands of miles.   A driving force called hope.

“Hope has two beautiful daughters.”  St Augustine said. their names are Anger and Courage. Anger at the way things are, and Courage to see that they do not remain as they are.”

These beautiful daughters of hope: anger – characterized by them as misery – at the poverty of the way things are.  And the Courage to act.

These are the organizers of these caravans.  They did not just happen

The migrants are calling themselves the Exodus, as in the stories of the enslaved Israelites escaping the oppressive Pharaoh to get to the promised land.  We – in the US – are the promised land. “Once people see us,” one of the migrants told the aid workers, “once Americans know we are just regular people escaping for our lives, they will let us in.  Because they are the promised land.”

Did your heart sink like mine did, when you heard that? The hope fueling these thousands is so terribly vast, and so impossibly doomed.  

It’s like watching a horror movie in slow motion – like you can see the end coming, and you just want to turn away because there is no way that this is going to end well.

After escaping misery, poverty, threats to their life, and then walking with courage thousands of miles to reach the so-called promised land, these people will likely be greeted with tear gas or worse, and/or have their child taken from them, maybe forever, and/or be placed in indefinite detention. Which, by the way, is a new way of saying prison, without any clear right to due process.

They are escaping Pharaoh in their own countries, only to encounter the Pharaoh in ours. Which is why our hearts sink at their hope.  Their hope seems foolish, and even, dangerous. It’s one reason my seminary professor Miguel de la Torre has advocated against hope as a goal.  

Because it can become empty, and a tool of the privileged to weigh costs and benefits before deciding to act.  Worse, as he says, “hope [can] serve to soothe the conscience of those complicit with oppressive structures, lulling them to do nothing except look forward to a salvific future where every wrong will be righted.”

We are often taught to think about hope like this – like it’s an act of “prognostication.” Where we take in and analyze information in the present only so that we can see how it might (or might not) point towards something in the future.  

For something to be “hopeful,” it needs to reassure us that everything will be ok at some point.  Even if that point isn’t immediate, hope indicates we can see it coming.   Religious liberals are especially prone to this prognosticating-orientation to hope.   

It’s like the well-known words from Unitarian great Theodore Parker about the moral arc of the universe bending towards justice – as progressives, we learn to ask ourselves, and each other – is it bending?

And when we can say yes, we call that hope. 

But then the day comes, when the news is filled with stories of children being tear gassed, and life expectancy shrinking, and whales dying, despite the fact that you and everyone you know has been working hard, and doing your part; and all the while, your kids (grown or otherwise) won’t listen to you; you’re still not over the grief you thought by now you’d be able to shake; the debt won’t seem to get paid off; and then the doctor calls and confirms, the cancer has come back. 

On days like these, hope that’s “dependent on observation of the world” does feel dangerous.  But not because of its potential to lull us into inaction in the way Miguel de la Torre fears, but even more because of its inevitable relationship with despair.

As Margaret Wheatley has said, “Motivated by hope, [we are eventually] confronted by failure, [and] we become depressed and demoralized. Life becomes meaningless; we despair of changing things for the better. At such a time, we learn the price of hope. Rather than inspiring and motivating us, hope [becomes] a burden made heavy by its companion, fear of failing.  Which is why thinking about hope as something related to external factors, something “dependent on some particular observation of the world,” or something you can just go searching for and acquire – like, One click and it’ll show up  with free 2-day shipping on your door step – all wrapped up and ready for Christmas.

This has never never been the way that I’ve found hope works, in my own life, and when I talk to others. And by work I mean – when hope is something that is sustaining, connective, inspiring, clarifying….something that provides meaning and purpose for our lives in a bigger sense, something that reminds us – in a way that reaches into our smallness, of our greatness.   

That’s what hope should do.  For hope to work – in real life today, it can’t be anchored in some far-off future. It must live in the here and now, and in us. 

Hope needs to move through us, like breath. And like breath, it has to become a habit so regular that we don’t even think about it, a commitment we connect to our bones, our pulse, our whole lives.    

Rob Hardies, the minister at All Souls Church in Washington DC, says it this way:

“in order to be hopeful, we must make hope a lifelong spiritual discipline. An intentional practice. In this way, hope is like love. It’s not a once-and-for-all cure, it’s one of the most important ongoing spiritual projects of our lives. Hope is a journey. A difficult path through a beautiful and broken world.”

When we started to plan this series on the habits of hope, and the question of how to cultivate hope in challenging times I started to think about other times where people successfully manifested hope even in the darkest days.

I immediately thought about these stories from the early days of the AIDS epidemic. Which was not because I realized then that we’d be kicking off this series the day after World AIDS Day. That was just an amazing coincidence.

But more, because I think these stories have so much to teach us about hope, and the habits of hope, especially in times like these, when the idea of hope feels confusing and challenging to many of us.  Which is when I thought about my friend, Nori. And a story she told once about her early work in the earliest days of the AIDS Epidemic.  

She’s now the minister at All Souls in Colorado Springs, but she started her ministry in California, where she and many others from the lesbian community became the primary caregivers for their brothers who were one after another being diagnosed, and then often within months, dying.  

They had no one else, really. Our government had mostly decided to ignore the reports of this plague, and family members often decided that it was what these mostly gay men deserved.

Without their sisters stepping up, in many cases they would have died alone. As Nori has written:

“I had such grand plans. I was going to march in demonstrations and I was going to be involved at the political level and the newspapers would quote me in their hard-hitting articles on the AIDS rights movement. I was going to be quite the radical revolutionary.”

But instead, she found herself at bedsides, caring for the wounded, tending to their bodies, broken and frail, massaging their feet in the quiet dark where no lights were necessary because they’d long ago lost their sight.  

33 friends lost, countless other memorials.

The Rev. Kim Crawford Harvey, who was around that same time, the minister in Provincetown where many were infected talks about how she realized “At a certain point, we just couldn’t grieve.  First of all, it was too painful for the guys who were dying to only have all this sadness around them, and not be reminded of the beauty. But also, it was just too exhausting and so devastating for all of us.  So, Provincetown has always been good at a good party, and man we had some amazing parties.”

I know it may not seem like the most obvious choice – to think of these stories as stories of hope.  But again, I think that’s only if hope is based in an assurance of some future positive outcome. But if instead, hope is an orientation of the heart that calls us to respond to what is right in front of us, and if hope is a habit where the fear of the unknown – I mean, they didn’t know how infection was even happening) –  if hope is where this sort of fear leads not to isolation, but to a reflex of compassion, and connection.

And if hope a habit where even in the middle of chaos and grief and pain, we are compelled to choose joy.  Regardless of the outcome. Where we choose life again and again, even in the presence of death. Then these stories and this time offers us an incredible example of hope, and how we can cultivate hope for today.

Especially when you consider the fact that the ripple effects of the networks and activism that happened during that time – the demand for real treatment, the attention to health care as a right, the creation of a more comprehensive notion of the “gay” community – While most of these saw no immediately positive “results” – they are very much still playing out today.

As one small example…now I know this is a long shot, but I wonder if any of you watch the TV show Empire? It’s a pretty soapy show about a hip hop dynasty, which I know usually Unitarians flock to that sort of show….but really, the first season was really good, and then because I am stupidly loyal after I start a show, even as it’s gone downhill, I’ve kept watching.

But sometimes there are sparks of what it was that first season – including a new storyline this season about one of the main characters, Jamal, falling in love with a man who is HIV positive. It’s a little mind blowing to watch it play out….Wasn’t it just a few years ago that two men kissing on TV was considered too graphic? Let alone two black men, let alone one who is HIV positive.

That their relationship is unfolding with joy and honesty and passion is an image of hope for me.  It reminds me of how surprising life is, and how history is – like Rebecca Solnit says – not like an army marching forward, but more like a “crab scuttling sideways, a drip of soft water wearing away stone, an earthquake breaking centuries of tension.”

Actually one of the habits of hope is the practice of paying attention to the ways hope is alive – right here and now, alive in the people around us, which in turn allows us to be hope for each other, in real life when we stay awake to these moments that stir our hearts and signal in an almost-magical way, the shifting sands, the widening of life’s welcome – that is not somewhere else, but here.  When we let these moment sink in. Like breath. And carry them with us then we can keep remembering, and reminding each other as Rebecca Solnit also says, this awareness that it is “always too soon to go home.”

Activist Margaret Wheatley tells about a time when she and her colleagues were feeling incredibly depressed about the state of the world, and their ineffectiveness in making real change.  

They were blessed to receive counsel from the Dalai Lama.  He told them:

“Do not despair,” he said. “Your work will bear fruit in 700 years or so.” 

It’s always too soon to go home.

This is what the migrants know.  Fueled by the daughters of hope, the great Exodus knows that hope can never guarantee an outcome for themselves, or even for their children. 

They are organized instead by a hope that is about the journey itself.  Because it is traveling together, in a community that is already a powerful form of resistance, and a hope that is about choosing joy in the middle of it all.  They showed us, on the call, videos of the camps, where there was art, and music, and playfulness.  Life, even in the presence of death.  

In the Christian tradition, today marks the first Sunday in advent.  Advent is a season set aside to practice waiting. Which is not the usual way that we think about these times we are in, as a country, as a people. So much feels urgent, and the pace of life today is hectic, and over-done.

But this understanding of hope that permeates the stories of those early days responding to the AIDS crisis, and that is organizing the migrants today invites us to imagine instead the slow work of life, the long, long arc – and to join together in that great mystery, to let hope breathe through us in a deep and abiding surrender.  To all that is yet to be born, if we are only willing to take the chance in these dark days of winter and worry, to give ourselves over to that much Life.

Justice on Earth: Chapter 1

21 December 2018 at 23:52
Rev. Meredith Garmon
Let's talk about the Common Read!
Manish Mishra-Marzetti and Jennifer Nordstrom, eds., Justice on Earth: People of Faith Working at the Intersections of Race, Class and the Environment.
Available from UUA Bookstore HERE; from Amazon HERE.

This week, chapter 1: Jennifer Nordstrom, "Intersectionality, Faith, and Environmental Justice."

The word "intersectional" is big these days among people thinking about social justice. The word calls attention to how interrelated the various justice issues are. Nordstrom opens with mention of a 10-day "direct action and permaculture training camp" she attended in New Mexico to simultaneously learn sustainability and "build resistance to white supremacy and militarism." Growing food and growing cross-cultural relationships of equality and respect at the same time is one manifestation of "intersectionality."

The overlap of issues calls attention to the commonalities, but also the differences:
"For example, women will experience sexism differently depending on their race, class, gender identity, and sexuality. People of color will experience racism differently based on their class, gender, gender identity, and sexuality."
In particular, Justice on Earth looks at Environmental Justice through the lens of intersectionality -- this is, in light of interconnecting systems. Nordstrom shares her experience learning that
"communities of color were exploited and poisoned through the entire nuclear fuel cycle: from uranium mining on Indigenous lands to nuclear weapons production on Indigenous land and the contamination of surrounding Indigenous, Chicano, and Latinx communities to nuclear waste storage in communities of color."
Thus, militarism, colonialism, racism, and the environment interrelate.

We are thus lead to see that "the environment" "is not simply natural wilderness in need of saving" -- as UUs are prone to view it. It is also roads, industries, urban trees, other people -- everything around us, and all of it shaped by patterns of power.
"There is not a single experience of the environment divorced from other relationships, or a single experience of humanity divorced from the environment."
For too long UUs have done "justice work in silos" -- an approach that "is not true to our whole lives, or to the wholeness of other people." When we ignore intersectionality, our work "usually caters to the dominant identities within the issue."

Yet, Nordstrom argues, as important as intersectionality is, equally powerful for us is faith. Our faith as UUs "can ground and nurture our work for environmental justice." Our situatedness in the interdependent web is our "call of the deep to the well of" our souls.

Related and Recommended: Kimberle Crenshaw's Keynote address to the Women of the World Festival 2016.(30 mins) HERE.



Questions:
  • What overlapping patterns of power and oppression have you experienced in your own life?
  • How have they manifested in the institutions in which you live and work?
  • How have they affected your experience of you own identity?
  • What do you know of environmental justice organizations active in Westchester?
This week, read chapter 1. Consider and talk about the questions, and any other questions that come up for you. Feel free to click "Comment" below and share your thoughts here. Thank you!

Justice on Earth: Chapter 2

29 December 2018 at 03:15
The 2018-19 UUA Common Read:
Manish Mishra-Marzetti and Jennifer Nordstrom, eds., Justice on Earth: People of Faith Working at the Intersections of Race, Class and the Environment. Available from UUA Bookstore HERE; from Amazon HERE.
This week, chapter 2: Paula Cole Jones, "The Formation of the Environmental Justice Movement."

In 2014, UUs from around the country assembled in Detroit for a "collaboratory" to learn and reflect on our denomination's environmental work. Detroit was a good example of the intersection of environmental issues and urban issues. As local environmental activists showed the UUs around the city, they saw a city
"dominated by abandoned homes, crumbling industrial plants, and sparsely traveled streets."
They met people
"fighting for access to municipal water services and the enforcement of clean air stands at recycling plants,"
and saw the work to develop "urban agriculture to meet the city's goal of food sovereignty." They witnessed commitment to the principle, "No one is expendable. Everyone matters."

When waste sites and polluting industries are located in poorer and darker communities, this may appear to be following the path of least resistance. But this explanation
"takes the focus off of the systemic nature of oppression; specifically, who gets to make the decisions."
It leaves out the role of
"racial and ethnic segregation, income inequality, and limited access to resources and policy makers."
The environmental justice movement, still relatively young, corrects this lack. How did this movement emerge?

The post-WWII boom substantially increased both prosperity and industrial waste and pollution. These two factors led to the modern environmental movement, landmarked by the first Earth Day in 1970. The movement was slow, however, to attend to ways entrenched racial inequality affected environmental decisions. Research by African American sociologist Robert Bullard, published in 1983, found that
"African Americans making $50,000 to $60,000 per year are much more likely to live in a polluted environment than poor white families making just $10,000 per year."
In 1982, the environmental justice movement broke through to national recognition in a case from Warren County, North Carolina. The sending of PCB-contaminated oil to a landfill in Warren County's poorest and most heavily African American community was resisted by activists seeking to protect their groundwater.
"More than five hundred people were arrested, including Congressman Walter Fauntroy and pastors Benjamin Chavis and Joseph Lowery."
A citizen class action suit was filed.
"They did not win the case or stop the landfill, but they successfully launched the environmental justice movement."
In 1991, three hundred people of color gathered for the First National People of Color Environmental Leadership Summit. The Summit adopted seventeen “Principles of Environmental Justice” which continue to frame and guide the movement.

Paula Cole Jones concludes:
“As Unitarian Universalists continue to work on environmentalism and climate change, we must operate with the knowledge of structured racial and economic inequality so that we are truly confronting oppression and doing our part in building the Beloved Community.”
Also read:
  • The Seventeen Principles of Environmental Justice adopted at the 1991 Summit: HERE.
  • The Environmental Protection Agency’s Eco-Justice 2020 Action Agenda (2016), 66pp.: HERE.
Questions:
  • How well do you know the history of the environmental justice movement? What will you do to become more familiar with this history?
  • What do you know about federal and state government actions that ameliorate or exacerbate environmental injustices?
  • Are environmental decisions in Westchester County fair and equitable?
  • Which communities are at risk? Where do Westchester community officials stand on local environmental justice issues?
  • What local organizations have been formed by and for people of color and working-class communities to address environmental racism and classism?
  • How can CUUC partner with people of color in our community?
  • Who could be invited to speak here about environmental justice?
  • What can you do to build relationships, trust, and partnerships that make a difference?
This week, read chapter 2. Consider and talk about the questions, and any other questions that come up for you. Feel free to click "Comment" below and share your thoughts here. Thank you!

Hymns of the Spirit site updated

30 December 2018 at 00:26

About five years ago, I stood up a site about the joint 1937 Unitarian-Universalist hymnal and service book, The Hymns of the Spirit. It was built on WordPress and for some reason attracted a lot of bot traffic. The last thing I needed was for it to be taken over. So I moved it over to a simpler Jekyll site. It’s clean and quick to load; I’ll be fixing some gremlins but it’s ready to use. But there’s no place to leave a comment: comment through this site or email me about it at wells@universalistchristian.org.

A Year of Wonder

1 January 2019 at 19:29
I’m pondering the new year as the bells in the church behind my home tell me it is noon with the canned recording of “O little town of Bethlehem.” Sometimes I wonder what makes New Year’s Day such a thing to celebrate any more than the start of any other day. My friend Hannah posted a […]

Justice on Earth: Chapter 3

6 January 2019 at 02:03
The 2018-19 UUA Common Read: Manish Mishra-Marzetti and Jennifer Nordstrom, eds., Justice on Earth: People of Faith Working at the Intersections of Race, Class and the Environment. Available from UUA Bookstore HERE; from Amazon HERE.

This week, chapter 3: Sheri Prud'homme, "Ecotheology."
“A prevalent theme in ecotheology is the radical interdependence of all existence and the accompanying mandate to view humankind as embedded in a complex web of relationships with other organisms that have intrinsic value.”
With these echoes of the UU 7th principle – and the 1st – ecotheology is substantially connected to UU theology. Significant ecotheologians include Thomas Berry, Brian Swimme, John Cobb, Joanna Macy, Sallie McFague, Rosemary Radford Ruether, Catherine Keller.
“All that exists in in relationship with everything. As Ivone Gebara writes in Longing for Running Water, it ‘is not a mechanical interdependence but a living one: a sacred interdependence that is vibrant and visceral’.”
Ecology becomes ecotheology when it encounters a sense of mystery, when the study of the relations of life forms to one another and their environment evokes awe and wonder. Theology, historically and currently, may serve the interests of dominance and empire by coopting God into a story that underwrites the social inequities of its time. Mindfulness of mystery can help protect against such cooptation. African-American writers such as theologian James Cone and Shamara Shantu Riley express the connections between oppression of people, exploitation of animals, and ravaging of nature.

For many ecotheologians, God does not precede the cosmos, but arose and unfolds with the cosmos. Ecotheology lends itself to pantheism (God and the universe are the same thing), or to panentheism (God and creation are inextricably intertwined, but not identical, as they participate together in creation’s unfolding).
“As McFague explains in The Body of God, ‘Everything that is, is in God and God is in all things and yet God is not identical to the universe, for the universe is dependent on God in a way that God is not dependent on the Universe’.”
Unitarians and Universalists of the 19th-century foreshadowed many of ecotheology’s concerns. UUs today
“are increasingly able to participate powerfully in ecumenical and multi-faith efforts when we draw on God language and images that are inclusive, expansive, immanent, and intermingled with the unfolding of creation.”
The writings of ecotheologians provides us a language for connecting with people of other traditions yet one UUs can use with integrity.

Ecotheology’s ethic emerges from seeing that the source of evil always lies in a good and necessary need taken to excess. Virtue is skill in balancing all needs.

Questions
  • What seems to you attractive about ecotheology? Are there aspects that give you pause?
  • How does the power of beauty affect your work for justice?
  • Ecotheologians are apt to say “God (the holy, the sacred) is in all of the created universe,” or that “God (the holy, the sacred) is the universe,” or that “God (the holy, the sacred) is creativity itself.” How might these thoughts support the work for environmental justice?

The Chaos We Make

8 January 2019 at 18:16
This is my view this morning. From right to left, the beginnings of a sock, tucked into a variegated skein of yarn; my blue mug of coffee; Ursula K. LeGuin’s final book of poetry, So Far So Good; TV remotes buried under the book and on top of the printed instructions for that sock; and […]

Justice on Earth: Chapter 4

11 January 2019 at 21:20
This week I'm reflecting on Sofia Betancourt's essay, "Ethical Implications of Environmental Justice" -- Chapter 4 of the 2018-19 UUA Common Read, Justice on Earth: People of Faith Working at the Intersections of Race, Class and the Environment.

Betancourt got me thinking about the whiteness of the American environmental movement. Searching around, I learned that a survey released 2018 Oct
“found that about one-third of African-Americans, half of whites, and two-thirds of Latinos and Asians consider themselves to be environmentalists.” (Anthropocene, 2018 Oct 30)
OK, so environmentalism is not just a white people’s thing. But it is perceived that way. The survey also found that
“across racial and ethnic groups, people tended to underestimate how concerned people of color are about the environment, and overestimate how concerned white people are.” (Anthropocene, 2018 Oct 30)
Indeed, mainstream environmentalist organizations – groups like the Sierra Club, the National Resources Defense Council (NRDC), and the Nature Conservancy – have, through their long history, consisted largely of upper- and middle-class whites focused on protecting wilderness areas. These groups have made the face of US environmentalism disproportionately white. More to the point, their focus -- protecting wilderness areas – has racial justice implications.

Consider the question of where to put waste facilities, landfills, dumps, and the most polluting industries. We clearly aren’t going to put them in wealthy, white neighborhoods. So (until we find a way to eliminate such pollution sources), that leaves two options: put them in poorer and darker-skinned neighborhoods, or put them out in an area away from human habitation. The historically predominantly-white environmental organizations (Sierra Club, NRDC, etc) work to keep industries, landfills, etc. from encroaching on our uninhabited areas -- thereby unwittingly pushing toxic pollution into poorer, black or Latino neighborhoods.

Betancourt cautions against
“a perilous tendency to sacrifice entire populations of our human family in the name of acting quickly.”
Black and brown folks’
“experiences of environmental racism and injustice are erased by a movement born out of an imagined pristine wilderness empty of humanity.”
She cites Aldo Leopold’s ethic –
“A thing is right when it tends to preserve the integrity, stability, and beauty of the biotic community. It is wrong when it tends otherwise.”
This influential principle, however, says nothing about environmental justice. It tends to treat “humanity” as a monolith – something to rein in for the sake of the planet. Instead -- or, rather, in addition -- we must attend to how consequences and risks of environmental destruction are unequally distributed within the human population.

Questions
  • Our first principle commits us to the worth and dignity of all – and thus to combat racism. Our seventh principle commits us respect the interdependent web – and thus to combat environmental harm. How do you balance and honor both of these imperatives in your spiritual life?
  • American individualism weakens the ethic of mutual care and engagement necessary for honoring the dignity of all. What are your relationships with communities of color? How might you reach out and deepen those relationships, from an ethic of care and mutuality?

An Airstream and a Dream: An Invitation

15 January 2019 at 22:24
You can support Fresh in any way you find possible, but here’s one more thing to consider: part of the dream Fresh has is to create a system that starts with growing fresh food (especially mushrooms) on some land in Michigan while living frugally in the Airstream, but then connects people to the land and the food with healing retreats, and then spins out means of sharing the food (and its healing powers) with people in marginalized communities. If farming isn’t the thing that gets your debit card out, how about economic development? How about job training and skill-building development? Fresh wants to help people do nourishing work that involves all of this. You can read more on Fresher Together at the GoFundMe page.

Moon Wonders

22 January 2019 at 04:46

Last night my mind was so full of wonders and joys I almost missed another. After a week of immersion in the lives and writings of Frances Ellen Watkins Harper and the Reverend Doctor Martin Luther King Junior., the weekend was full of joy. A wonderful ordination on Saturday, great worship on Sunday, all three granddaughters on Sunday afternoon.

Around 9 PM I took my dog up for a walk atop my daughter’s apartment building. The air was crisp and clear. I looked up, and there above and toward the east was a crescent moon. It seemed that it had been full just a day or so before. But I had been busy. Then I realized that it was in the wrong part of the sky for a crescent. At that time of night, if it was a waning, crescent it would not be in the sky. A waxing crescent would be low in the west.

Finally, I struggled with why it was at such an odd angle. Long ago, I learned a little cross-language and theological mnomic. A waxing crescent looks like a “D” for Dios because God is first. A waning crescent should look like a “C” since Christo comes second. But, this crescent looked more like a bowl. And the dark part glowed strangely.

It seemed utterly mysterious. I was going to ask Google when I got back to the apartment. However, I stopped wondering when I got back to the grand-babies.

It was not until this afternoon that I remembered all those notifications about a lunar eclipse!

Often wonders unfold unnoticed all around. Yet there they remain forever wondrous.

Love when it's hard to find

24 January 2019 at 14:47
There is a cat standing on my legs, posing like a ram on a mountain ledge. Another one (cat, not ram), is snuggled into the blanket at the end of the couch, giving me side-eye as I move my feet to more comfortably accommodate the ram. We are jostling each other, these cats and I. […]

Preaching this Sunday at Universalist National Memorial Church

26 January 2019 at 00:33

Come hear me preach this Sunday at the 11 am service at Universalist National Memorial Church, Washington D.C. Since the church website is down for repairs, I’m putting the details here.

The Law Dwelling Within

I’ll be drawing from passages from Nehemiah and Luke will question whether ordained ministers — indeed, even churches themselves — are necessary or even desirable as society changes. And if not these, what will take their place?

My thanks to Connor Cosenza, who will be liturgist.

Universalist National Memorial Church is a liberal Christian Universalist church.

It is at 1810 16th Street, N.W., within walking distance of Dupont Circle Metro (Q Street exit) and U Street Metro (13th Street exit.) The S2 and S4 buses stop in front of the church. There is parking behind the Masonic House of the Temple, catty-corner from the church; drive down the alley for access.

I look forward to seeing you.

Bird dog puppy finds a friend

30 January 2019 at 05:16
By: Heather

My ADHD brain is like an enthusiastic, yellow Lab puppy. All bounce and smiles and cuddles and distractability. Oh, wouldn’t this be fun! And look at that! Can we try it? Now?

I will always have that mind. But now the puppy has a friend—an older, better-trained friend. Pills and skills, working together, are giving me some executive function.

It’s not perfect. The new dog seems to get tired real easy. She doesn’t show up if I haven’t had a good enough night’s sleep.

I’ve only just noticed her in the past few days, but I’m betting if I take good care of her, she’ll take good care of me, too.

 

 

The post Bird dog puppy finds a friend appeared first on Rev. Heather Lou.

Use the good knives

30 January 2019 at 22:58
By: Heather

Just over a year ago, Liesl gave me a set of really good knives for Christmas.

Sometimes when you’ve been together for a long time, presents become part of the narrative. Our story about knives is that Liesl always complains that our knives are as dull as spoons. I know that they’re dull—and I know why they’re dull. I hate handwashing dishes, so our knives go in the dishwasher, where they get dull.

When I opened the knives, I gave her a look, and said, “You’ll handwash these, right?” She assured me that she would—and she hasn’t. Mostly because the kitchen sink is too damn high for her.

We’re still bickering about dull knives and broken dishwashing promises, but one thing has begun to change: I’m using the good knives.

They’re a pain in the ass to handwash—and a pleasure to cut, slice, and chop with.

I’ve been overhauling the kitchen—the whole house, really—and I moved the knives as part of that process. The good knives are out front, and the cheap knives are tucked behind them, making it easier to reach for the right knife for the job.

American consumer culture lures us into more, more, more, before we enjoy the good things we really have. It convinces us of lack, of not enough. It works by promising us that the next thing we buy will make us happier. When that doesn’t happen, well, there must be something else we can buy.

It’s difficult to push back against that tremendous pressure, but it helps if we can slow down and notice what we already have.

Tonight I’m cooking a flank steak that’s been in my freezer for almost a year, part of the quarter share of beef we split with friends. I’ve been avoiding it because I’ve never cooked flank steak before. But we’re making a concerted effort to make our way through the food we have, so tonight it’s flank steak.

I’ll slice it with one of those beautiful knives.

 

The post Use the good knives appeared first on Rev. Heather Lou.

The mother of all preacher's dreams

3 February 2019 at 18:00
By: Heather
Photo by Francesco Ungaro from Pexels

This morning before waking I had a preacher’s dream. Ministers each have their own type of preaching-anxiety dreams, and mine are usually endless variations on not having my sermon manuscript with me.

This was a different kind of dream.

It began as a crime drama. While investigating an arson, I met a charming, angry young man and knew he was the arsonist. From what he told me, I guessed that Nutella was the mysterious accelerant we hadn’t been able to identify. Then he and his father showed up at our house—not our house, not my waking-life family. I knew he planned to burn the house down.

Then the dream shifted. Preparing to guest preach, I used the Nutella arsonist story as the heart of my sermon.

I arrived at the church and I was surprised to see many of my colleagues. The congregation’s minister delightedly showed us to our seats, and gave us instructions to read the slips of paper on our chairs, but not talk about what was written on them.

The papers said that each of the ministers present had been invited to preach about Unitarian Universalism. I turned to the colleague sitting next to me—someone with whom I’ve had conflict, who looked strangely faded and diminished—and said that I’d prepared a normal-length sermon, and if we all had, we’d be there all day.

They had prepared just as much, they said, though in the form of notes rather than a manuscript.

In this dream, I was pregnant. During the service, I kept getting up and exiting through a side door into a hallway that was a hospital. After a while, there was a baby in the hallway and newborn cries from several of the rooms. I was confused, then discovered that I had given birth during the service. I didn’t remember it because they had given me Ambien. “Don’t ever do that to anyone again,” I told the nurse. “Being aware during birth, if medically possible, is such an important experience.”

I finally got to see my baby, who somehow didn’t seem like mine. Liesl wanted to name her Sage, which I vetoed because I didn’t want to name my kid after an herb mostly associated with Thanksgiving stuffing.

Returning to the sanctuary, I decided that I would preach extemporaneously about this amazing birth, and how glad I was to raise my children as Unitarian Universalists, treasured and celebrated for their inherent worth and dignity.

I waited my turn, and one of my colleagues stood up to pray—with the usual UU disclaimers and throat-clearing.

With that, I woke up.

I lay in bed, coming back to this reality, and remembered: Sage also means wisdom. In the middle of a church service, I gave birth to wisdom.

Now, writing this, I remember, too: Sage is used to clear a space, to make a home ready for new experiences.

What a dream. The mother of all preacher’s dreams.

 

The post The mother of all preacher’s dreams appeared first on Rev. Heather Lou.

Emergency Measures

4 February 2019 at 16:19

No Money shall be drawn from the Treasury, but in Consequence of Appropriations made by Law.

US Constitution, Article I, Section 9

QUESTION: So you don’t need congressional approval to build the wall?

TRUMP: No, we can use — absolutely. We can call a national emergency because of the security of our country, absolutely. No, we can do it. I haven’t done it. I may do it. I may do it, but we could call a national emergency and build it very quickly.

press conference January 4

This week’s featured posts are “Another Week in the Post-Truth Administration” and “Ralph Northam and the Limits of Forgiveness“.

This week everybody was talking about the budget negotiations

But nobody was saying anything terribly insightful about them. The government is funded through February 15, so the conference committee has until then to make a deal. Maybe they’ll succeed and maybe they won’t. But whatever deal does or doesn’t happen, it won’t be negotiated in public. The way these things usually go is that there appears to be no deal until suddenly there is one. Speculation is always titillating, but we’re in a phase where we just have to wait and see.

and the weather

How cold was it? In Chicago, transit crews were setting the train tracks on fire to keep them from freezing over.

Of course, people who don’t understand the science raised the usual question: How can there be global warming if it’s so cold out?

The answer (from Science Alert) is that there’s been a weird airflow pattern, not that the planet as a whole is actually colder than usual. The North Pole was having a heat wave, relatively speaking, after sending much of its cold air south. (It’s like when you stand in front of an open refrigerator door. You’re not eliminating warmth, you’re just reshuffling it.)

A condensed version of Science Alert’s explanation: Melting ice in the Arctic is causing it to reflect less sunlight and absorb more heat. This lowers the temperature differential between the Pole and lower latitudes. Ordinarily, the polar vortex is a high-altitude “river of wind” that is more-or-less circular around the Pole. But the lower temperature differential slows that river down and makes its course more erratic. So occasionally it dips south, carrying polar cold into lower latitudes.

So yes, strange as it sounds, this week’s record cold across the northern and eastern US was in fact evidence of global warming. (This kind of weather will probably happen more often as climate change continues.) And even as the weather was far colder than usual where I live, it was still warmer than usual when you look at the whole Earth.

and Governor Northam

One of this week’s featured posts compares Northam to past Democratic figures like Robert Byrd and George Wallace, both of whom were allowed a measure of redemption.

But a second issue concerns double standards for Democrats and Republicans. Florida Secretary of State Michael Ertel had to resign last week because of blackface photos: He wore blackface to make fun of victims of Hurricane Katrina in 2005. That case didn’t arouse my sympathy. So am I applying different standards to Republicans?

The answer is: Yes I am, and I don’t apologize for it.

Here’s why: Questions of racism get raised by standard Republican positions on issues that come up every day. When you denounce “amnesty” for the undocumented, are you concerned about the rule of law, or are you really thinking that there are already too many brown people in the US? (I mean, why can’t we have more immigration from Norway?) Is it an unfortunate coincidence that your anti-voter-fraud measures suppress the black and Hispanic vote, or is that the point? Are you really supporting your local police, or do you just not care when officers kill young black men? Do you think the government spends too much, or just that it spends too much on people who don’t look like you?

When a politician’s positions on current issues already raise questions about racism, then evidence of racism in his or her past ought to have increased significance.

and national emergencies

The concept of a national emergency is simple: Congress moves more slowly than the Executive Branch. Recognizing that, Congress pre-authorizes the President to take timely actions in situations that are moving too fast for a congressional response.

A national emergency formalizes what President Lincoln did at the beginning of the Civil War: take immediate necessary actions and ask Congress for its approval some other time. (From Lincoln’s message to a special session of Congress assembled on July 4, 1861: “It was with the deepest regret that the Executive found the duty of employing the war power in defense of the Government forced upon him. He could but perform this duty or surrender the existence of the Government.”)

I haven’t read the national emergency laws, so I can’t say for sure what they do or don’t allow. But I do know this: What Trump is proposing (to declare a national emergency so that he can build his Wall without the approval of Congress) invalidates the whole justification of national emergencies.

The situation at the border is largely unchanged since Trump took office, except for humanitarian problems he has caused himself by mistreating refugees. (He could solve those problems without declaring an emergency, just by reversing his own policies.) Events are not moving too fast for Congress to react. In fact, Congress has acted; it just hasn’t done what Trump wanted.

To declare an emergency under these circumstances would be an authoritarian act, an abuse of power that could well be impeachable. The President would not be getting out in front of Congress, he would be circumventing Congress.

He would also be defying the will of the American people. Trump is a minority president, elected with 46% of the vote, nearly 3 million fewer votes than his main opponent. He has remained unpopular throughout his administration; his approval rating has never hit 50%. More recently, Democrats won a majority in the House of Representatives with 53% of the vote. It is Pelosi, not Trump, who has a popular mandate.

and Venezuela

I confess to not paying a lot of attention to South America over the years, so I’ve been looking for background articles that can help me make sense of the current crisis. The BBC has a fairly good one, which I’ll summarize:

Venezuela has a lot of oil, and the potential to be a fairly prosperous country. But in the 1990s it had massive inequality. It sounds like the usual Latin American thing, but moreso: A few families controlled everything and a lot of people were desperate. The new oil wealth just made that worse.

Democracy and inequality on this scale can only coexist for so long, and so Hugo Chávez got elected president as a socialist in 1999. A lot of his reforms were poorly thought out and backfired on the general economy. (The BBC article mentions his price controls, which pushed a lot of the controlled items onto the black market.) But he also spent oil money on programs that improved health care, literacy, and quality of life among the poor. He remained popular for most of his era in power — he died as president in 2013 — but at the same time had very powerful enemies among the upper classes. He consolidated power and became a virtual dictator.

Things started to get really bad late in his administration, when the global price of oil collapsed. The oil revenues had put a blanket over a lot of unsustainable policies, which started to unravel. By now, the country is a mess. About 3 million of the country’s 32 million people have left. US intelligence services estimate that another 2 million refugees will leave soon.

Chávez was succeeded by the current president, Nicolás Maduro, who has not managed to turn things around. He was re-elected last May to a 6-year term that started a few weeks ago. His re-election, though, was rigged, so the opposition says the presidency is vacant now. The Venezuelan Constitution says that when the presidency is vacant, it falls to the head of the Assembly, who is Juan Guaidó. Guaidó has declared himself acting president, which Maduro disputes.

The United States, the EU, and most of Latin America recognizes Guaidó as president. Maduro has the support of Russia, China, and a few other countries. So far the Venezuelan military is sticking with Maduro.

The immediate problem is that legitimacy has broken down. Nobody has a clear claim to be in charge. The Maduro government is clearly not good for the country, but would a Guaidó government be better? A Venezuelan might wish for things to go back to normal, but when was that exactly? In Latin America, “normal” is often a desperate condition for the lower classes.

That’s why the suggestion that American troops might get involved is so worrisome. It’s not that the Maduro government deserves to survive, but that we could easily wind up fighting to help plutocrats keep the common people down. In Tuesday’s Senate Intelligence Committee hearings, Senator Marco Rubio listed the misdeeds of the Venezuelan government and raised the question:

Is it not in the national interest of the United States of America that the Maduro regime fall?

Senator Angus King of Maine responded with caution:

[Senator Rubio] listed refugee flows, human rights abuses, and corruption. There are lots of countries in the world that meet that description, and our right or responsibility to generate regime change in a situation like that, I think, is a slippery slope. I have some real caution about what our vital interests are, and whether it’s our right or responsibility to take action to try to change the government of another sovereign country. That same description would have led us into a much more active involvement in Syria, for example, five or six years ago.


An additional problem from the US perspective is that Venezuela has taken on symbolic meaning for American conservatives: It’s a cautionary tale illustrating why you should never elect socialists. Whenever an American progressive proposes Medicare for All, a conservative will start talking about Venezuela, as if no other country in the world had universal health care, and as if American progressives look to Venezuela as a model rather than Denmark or Sweden or Canada, which were the top three countries in US News’ 2018 best-quality-of-life ratings.

Venezuela’s symbolic significance makes it harder to see what is actually happening there.

but maybe we shouldn’t have been talking about Howard Schultz

OK, he’s rich and he wants to be president. But so far, as best I can tell, he doesn’t have a base or a signature issue or a poll showing that any measurable number of people would vote for him. So I can’t figure out why his potential candidacy is worth all this attention. Why is he getting so much free media?

The Schultz media rollout has been eye-popping, with the billionaire sitting down for interviews with not only 60 Minutes, but CBS This Morning, CNBC, Goop, the New York Times, ABC’s The View, MSNBC’s Morning Joe, and NPR’s Morning Edition.

and you also might be interested in …

Cory Booker has joined the 2020 race.


Last Monday, a Trump tweet endorsed the “Biblical Literacy” legislation that has been proposed in a number of states, including Missouri, North Dakota, Virginia, and West Virginia. Arizona, Arkansas, Georgia, Kentucky, Oklahoma, Tennessee and Texas already have such laws. The point is to require public schools to offer elective courses that teach about the Bible.

Americans United for the Separation of Church and State comments on its blog:

To be clear, the classes are not per se unconstitutional. But Bible classes must be taught in accordance with constitutional requirements set out by courts. These courses must be taught in a nondevotional manner with no attempt made to indoctrinate students as to either the truth or falsity of biblical accounts. The courses should not be taught from the perspective that the Bible is a literal historical record, and such courses must expose students to critical perspectives on the Bible and a diversity of scholarly interpretations.

In other words, you can teach that the Gospel of John says Jesus rose from the dead. But you can’t teach “Jesus rose from the dead” as a historical fact, citing John as your authority. The same thing applies to any other religion. Students should learn what Muslims believe about the origin of the Quran: The Archangel Gabriel recited it to Muhammad. But that’s different from teaching them that this recitation actually happened.

Similarly, there’s nothing wrong with a high school class reading the Book of Job or the Song of Solomon and discussing them the same way they would discuss The Odyssey or any other ancient text. (Though probably most high schools would consider Song of Solomon too racy.)

It’s not that hard a distinction to understand, if you want to understand it. Unfortunately, a lot of Christian fundamentalists would rather not understand it or observe it.

Texas passed one of these bills in 2009, and the resulting classes offered in many districts have been very problematic. Six years ago, Mark Chancey, a religious studies professor at Southern Methodist University, surveyed courses in 60 districts around the state. Only 11 districts, Chancey found, were “especially successful in displaying academic rigor and a constitutionally sound” approach. The other 49, he found, “were a mixed bag, some were terrible.” Chancey singled out 21 districts as offering “especially egregious” instruction. According to Chancey’s research, public school students in these courses were taught that “the Bible is written under God’s direction and inspiration,” Christians will at some point be “raptured,” and that the Founding Fathers formed our country on the principles of the Holy Bible. (Kentucky passed one of these laws as well and has had similar problems.)

In fact, a properly taught Biblical Literacy course would probably horrify the very people who are pushing to create such courses, because it would teach students that over the centuries the Bible has been read and interpreted many different ways. Whatever your pastor told you is not the only way to think about it.

What Project Blitz and other backers of Biblical Literacy courses want instead is to have the government endorse their particular theology, and to force non-believers to pay taxes that promote fundamentalist Christian views. That has been illegal at least since my friend Ellery Schempp (he’s still alive and belongs to my church) won his Supreme Court case in 1963.


The first priority of House Democrats, H.R. 1, is a bill to curb corruption and make it easier to vote. Among other things, it would make Election Day a national holiday, so that workers would have an easier time making it to the polls. It would also expand early voting, require the president and vice president to publish the last 10 years of their tax returns, force SuperPACs to reveal where their money comes from, make government contractors report their political contributions, provide federal matching funds to encourage small donations to political campaigns, make voter registration an opt-out system rather than an opt-in system, reduce gerrymandering, and do many other things to make elections a truer gauge of the will of the People.

Mitch McConnell, of course, is against it and will not bring it to the floor of the Senate after it passes the House. The bill, he says, is a “power grab“. And he’s right, it is. It is an attempt to grab power for the American people. McConnell’s GOP, which represents a minority of the American people but a majority of the super-rich, would have some of its power taken away. GQ’s Luke Darby has it right:

What McConnell calls a “power grab” is common practice in most functioning democracies. But building and maintaining a functioning democracy has never been his priority.

Meanwhile, Texas is steaming ahead on suppressing the votes of non-whites.


Trevor Noah: The black community has been saying for years that the police have too much power to wreck people’s lives, and Trump has paid no attention. But now the President is outraged when that power is used against his henchmen, as when Roger Stone was hauled to jail in a predawn raid on his home.

These guys are genuinely shocked when the police use the same force on them that they’ve been using on so many other people in the country, unchecked.


I put off writing this article for so long that now David Brin has written it. Adam Smith and F. A. Hayek don’t have anything to do with present-day conservatism. The current free-market-worship really has no philosophy behind it. It’s pure superstition.


Gizmodo’s Kashmir Hill is cutting the big internet companies out of her life and chronicling what changes. This week it’s Google, and it affects a lot more things than you’d think.


Texas Secretary of State David Whitley has been circulating “a list of 95,000 registered voters who were matched with people flagged by the Texas Department of Public Safety as being noncitizens … 58,000 of whom have voted in TX elections”. The Atlantic explains why you shouldn’t take this claim seriously, even if Trump does.

Several years ago I looked at a similar claim about dead people voting in South Carolina. The state attorney general was claiming that his computer search showed that 900 dead people had voted. His claim fit the right-wing narrative, so he made the talk-radio circuit and got interviewed on Fox News.

As soon as the election boards started investigating his list, though, the whole thing unraveled. It turned out there were a bunch of legitimate ways a name might end up on that list, from mistaken identity to clerical error to having a heart attack two seconds after you dropped your absentee ballot into the mailbox. Eventually the state police got pulled into the investigation, and when they were done the number of unexplained cases was down to three, with no clear evidence of election fraud even for those three.

Something similar will happen here.


Here’s a dam good metaphor.


Last Monday, Sarah Sanders held the first White House briefing in more than a month, and CNN decided not to cover it live. MSNBC stopped routinely airing live White House briefings in November. Both networks send reporters and camera, but then let their editors decide what was newsworthy.

This is part of the media’s evolving strategy for dealing with a White House whose communications include more disinformation than information. Finally, news networks are realizing that they are not obligated to give the White House a open channel to lie to the American people. That doesn’t serve the country and doesn’t serve their viewers.

That gradual evolution started early on, when a lot of news hosts stopped inviting Kellyanne Conway for interviews, since it is virtually impossible to get any useful information out of her. A few weeks ago, CNN’s Chris Cuomo had Conway on, and Don Lemon shook his head sadly as he and Cuomo had their nightly handoff conversation. I agreed with Lemon: The Cuomo/Conway fencing match was entertaining for people who are into that kind of thing, but no one learned anything from it.

The people who parrot Trump’s fake-news denunciations of CNN saw hypocrisy here: CNN criticized the White House for not have briefings, and then didn’t cover the one they had. But I don’t buy it. What journalists are asking for is the kind of news briefings they got during every other administration of the television era: A chance to ask the press secretary questions and get answers that may be slanted, but were mostly reliable. Previous press secretaries often didn’t know answers to questions, but made a good-faith effort to get them. Sanders offers fake briefings that are full of outright lies, and if she doesn’t know the answer to a question, that’s the end of it; she’s not going to put any effort into finding out.


Meanwhile, I’m trying not to get too excited about Sarah Sanders saying that God wanted Trump to be president. Her interview with CBN is one of those shiny objects that is supposed to distract us from Trump’s disastrous shutdown and the increasing likelihood that he’s a Russian asset. But I do have to point out that God denied Sanders’ claim on Facebook.

What? You don’t think that’s the real God? Maybe not, but I think whoever owns that Facebook page has as much right to speak for God as Sarah Sanders does.

and let’s close with something for the birds

About 10,000 people in a mountainous part of Turkey speak “bird language“, a whistle-based system of communication.

Fear Never Fixed Anything

4 February 2019 at 17:27
This is the text of the reflection I offered on February 3, 2019, to the congregation I serve  in Charlottesville, Virginia. Sam Keen is, as I said during the Story time, a fairly well-known author within a certain niche of readers.  He’s written books like, Your Mythic Journey, Fire in the Belly, Inward Bound (exploring the geography of your emotions), To a Dancing God, and The

First Rules

5 February 2019 at 22:09
I forgot the first rule of woodworking: ventilation. It was too cold to go to the garage to stain the board I’ve been laboring over for at least a month, but I really wanted to do it. So I set up a makeshift staining stand in the basement and everything was going along nicely until […]

Large list of non-contributing churches

6 February 2019 at 00:44

I wasn’t going to write about the certification of UUA congregations because I didn’t think it would do any good. But one thing stuck out when I looked at the certification list — which closed on February 1 — so a few words.

I was struck by how many congregations gave no money to the UUA.

There are always some: very small or fragile ones, for instance, and I’ve noticed that Christian and Pagan congregations are over-represented. I read that as alienation, discontent with services provided or not provided and perhaps more. Non-contributing is one of the things that keeps you from having voting representation at General Assembly (big deal) so, the UUA isn’t truly being punitive for publishing this list. But I’m sure peer pressure plays into the calculus (good luck with that) — and besides, showing displeasure goes both ways.

What makes this year different is the number of non-fragile, non-tiny, middle-of-the-road congregations on the list. More than I’ve ever seen before. Not that the UUA has been the easiest to defend lately, at least on financial grounds. I can imagine the calculus of giving nothing to the UUA as opposed to planning for strategic spending or making up for losses. The UUA is a hard sell, especially as it becomes harder and harder to identify what one gets for the money. Who might be emboldened by that list, rather than embarrassed?

Many people I know have fallen for Marie Kondo’s method of de-cluttering, and her signal question, “Does it spark joy?” The list suggests that, for some at least, the UUA doesn’t.

Justice on Earth: Chapter 5

8 February 2019 at 05:08
This week I'm reflecting on Adam Robersmith's essay, "Cherishing Our World: Avoiding Despair in Environmental Justice Work" -- Chapter 5 of the 2018-19 UUA Common Read, Justice on Earth: People of Faith Working at the Intersections of Race, Class and the Environment.

The situation is dire, Robersmith reminds us:
“We are affecting our climate and ecosystem in ways that are detrimental to life on the planet and to how we live….We should have changed as a nation long ago, yet we have not….Research shows that our acts disproportionately affect the poor and oppressed all over the world, yet we continue to use harmful technologies and resources.”
Trying to scare people into changing behaviors and policies hasn’t worked terribly well. Robersmith is reminded of our Universalist ancestors. When the predominant theology used fear (of hell) to induce righteousness, our ancestors pointed out:
“The preaching of future rewards and punishments, for the purpose of inducing people to love God and moral virtue, is not only useless, but pernicious.” (Hosea Ballou, 1834)
Rather than extrinsic punishments or rewards, argued Ballou, we ought to preach that God and moral virtue are intrinsically worthy and lovely.

Along similar lines, Robersmith urges that the value of the environment lies not in financial measures or apocalypse prevention. Rather, it is intrinsically worthy and lovely.
“If we, as a nation, a people, or a species, loved this planet as our Universalist ancestors understood loving God, we would have already made so many different choices about how we live on this Earth and with each other.”
In particular, by turning away from fear-based arguments about economies and catastrophes threatening all humanity, we can, instead, attend to localized effects on marginalized populations: mountaintop removal and strip mining degrade environments of poor communities; water poisoned with pollutants flows disproportionately into poorer communities of color; for example.

What Robersmith doesn’t mention is nonattachment to results. Of course, we should as lovingly and as rationally as possible discern strategies most likely to succeed, but sometimes we’ll guess wrong, and other times, even when our strategy has the best odds of success, we will still fail. Plan carefully for success, then let go of attachment to whether success happens. “The victory is in the doing,” as Gandhi said – not in the outcome.

“Turning off the water while brushing our teeth,” says Robersmith, “makes a difference and is a necessary next act.” But this is either hyperbole or fantasy. If it’s necessary, then one person failing to turn off the water one time means the planet is doomed. In fact, one person saving one quart of water per brush does not, in itself, make any measurable difference to the Earth – especially here in New York where water is plentiful. But it makes a difference to the one who does it. Practices of care change us even if they don’t change the planet. And if we are changed, we are more likely to influence others and do things that do make a difference. The victory, to repeat, is in the doing.

In leaving out the role of nonattachment to results, the risk is that we may disavow fear-mongering only to find ourselves mongering shame.

For my reflection/summary on previous chapters, click the title:
  1. Jennifer Nordstrom, "Intersectionality, Faith, and Environmental Justice"
  2. Paula Cole Jones, "The Formation of the Environmental Justice Movement"
  3. Sheri Prud'homme, "Ecotheology"
  4. Sofia Betancourt, "Ethical Implications of Environmental Justice"
Yours in faith,
Meredith

Justice on Earth: Chapter 6

8 February 2019 at 05:13
This week I'm reflecting on Peggy Clarke and Matthew McHale’s essay, "Becoming Resilient: Community Life for a New Age” – Chapter 6 of the 2018-19 UUA Common Read, Justice on Earth: People of Faith Working at the Intersections of Race, Class and the Environment.

The prophetic task, the authors note, is not merely to decry injustice. It’s more broadly about nurturing, nourishing, and evoking, an alternative community. The essay then develops in two parts:

1. Resilience-based organizing. Here we learn about Movement Generation, which offers trainings, resources, and support to social movements led by communities of color or low income. Movement Generation’s organizing approach is rooted in community “in a way that reorients power to be more local and democratic.”

The approach is inspired by such examples as the Black Panthers and MST (Brazil’s Landless Workers Movement -- Movimento dos Trabalhadores Rurais Sem Terra). The Black Panthers’ less famous programs provided services such as free breakfast for school children, free medical clinics and drug rehab, clothing distribution, and classes on politics and economics. In Brazil, MST peacefully occupies unused land, securing it for the dispossessed. MST sets up cooperative farms, constructs houses, schools, and clinics while working for environmental sustainability and promoting Indigenous culture and gender equality.

2. Congregations as centers for community resilience. “Houses of worship will need to become centers of hope and resilience.” Doing this will entail congregational engagement with the communities around us -- offering meeting places and shelter, learning centers for reskilling, among other things. “We can start by identifying local ‘front-line communities’ – low-income communities and communities of color who bear the brunt of the devastation of the modern industrial system and who are leaders in the struggle to shift toward a more just and sustainable future.” Once such a prospective community is identified, the congregation’s task is solidarity, listening, relationship-building, humility, and a willingness to take on a support role when asked – NOT to expect to swoop in as the savior or the experts.

The authors conclude: “Without authentic partnership and without clearly understanding the systemic transformation required, our response to the current climate crisis will be insufficient. . . . Building resilient communities is the transformative response these times demand.”

Questions
What communities around CUUC are most directly affected by issues in which environment and race come together? How might CUUC develop a relationship of solidarity with those communities?

One response to the essay might be: “I’m convinced that we need to commit ourselves to supporting and nurturing communities of resilience. But I don’t see any need for congregations. Congregations should simply fold – transferring their land, buildings, and members’ energy to organizations like Movement Generation.” How would you respond to this suggestion? The members of a support network for resilient community would share a kind of “secular faith” – is that faith enough?

Yours in faith,
Meredith

Justice on Earth: Chapter 7

8 February 2019 at 05:15
This week I'm reflecting on Kathleen McTigue’s essay, "Drawing on the Deep Waters: Contemplative Practice in Justice-Making” – Chapter 7 of the 2018-19 UUA Common Read, Justice on Earth: People of Faith Working at the Intersections of Race, Class and the Environment.

UUs, notes McTigue, “agree broadly that any religion worth the name should help shift our behaviors and actions toward the greater good.” This, she says, “is necessary and laudable, but insufficient.” McTigue explains five reasons we need to do the inner as well as the outer work.

1. Spiritual practices ground us in something bigger than ourselves. “We are connected to and are part of a vast unfolding that we cannot entirely grasp.” Living is not a private affair of the individual – we belong to each other and the universe. When we waste time, we are squandering the universe’s opportunity. This spiritual awareness also helps us attend to care for our fragile planet.

2. Spiritual practices help us stay in the present moment. Incessant stories play out in our heads. If you pay attention to it, you’ll be appalled at your “monkey mind” – the repetitive, boring, and judgmental running commentary going through our heads virtually every waking moment. “Spiritual practices help quiet the noise in our own heads.” This reduces our reactivity and thus reduces internal conflict within a justice movement that occurs when we trigger each other’s unexamined emotional reactions.

3. Spiritual practices cultivate the qualities we most want to bring forward. “Despite what we aim for in our moments of high aspiration, we get caught up in the small stuff. Spiritual practices help tilt us back toward our aspirations.”

4. Spiritual practices remind us that the things we most want to change in the world also exist in ourselves. “If deep inside us we are seething with anger, how shall we be peacemakers? If deep inside us there are the seeds of greed, how will we shift the grotesque chasm between the rich and the poor? Spiritual practices keep us hones, mindful of the fact that the change we want to work for in our world need to be undertaken with a willingness to be changed ourselves.”

5. Spiritual practices help sustain us through confusion and despair. “Despair, discouragement, helplessness, and confusion may all still go parading through our hearts – but spiritual practices help us hold them within a larger context. . . . In the long arc toward justice, our best efforts are just one small part. This allows us to hold even our despair within the larger frame of this lifetime work. Grounded again in hope, we can then bring that hope back out with us, to all the others who are struggling to find their way in this beautiful, fragile, difficult world.”

Questions
1. What’s your spiritual practice, and how does it integrate with your justice work?
2. Have you had experiences in your justice work where you later wished you’d been more spiritually grounded?

Yours in faith,
Meredith

Michael Pollan had a pig

9 February 2019 at 05:37
By: Heather

I’m daunted by the necessary discipline that lies between me and the writing life I want.

I look at writers I admire and sigh, wondering, “Will I ever get there?”

When I am most discouraged, sometimes it helps me to remember that we do not all start at the same place.

Michael Pollan, I tell myself, had a pig.

What does that reminder mean?

In his Netflix show, Cooked, and in the book it’s based on, Pollen tells a story.

While they were summering on Martha’s Vineyard in 1971, Pollen’s father thought it would be funny to buy his son a pig. The pig, whom Michael named Kosher, grew and grew and grew, and as the end of the summer neared, Pollen realized he couldn’t take a huge pig back to his Park Avenue apartment. The co-op board would not approve.

Then he had an idea. He had met James Taylor earlier in the summer, and Taylor had a pig. Maybe Kosher could live with Mona, Taylor’s pig. They gave it a try, and Mona—much older and larger—literally scared Kosher to death.

That last bit is shocking, but it’s not the part of the story that interests me. Do you know what catches my attention?

Summering in Martha’s vineyard.

Park Avenue apartment.

Meeting James Taylor.

When I was a six-month-old baby living in a small house in Avenel, New Jersey, Michael Pollan was summering in Martha’s Vineyard, getting rescued by James Taylor, before returning to his Park Avenue apartment. I grew up with privilege, but not at that level.

We do not all start out in the same place. Life is not a board game where all the pieces gather on a square marked “Start.” We cannot measure our progress, our success in life, by looking at other people.

So the next time you notice yourself comparing yourself to someone else, and coming up short, just tell yourself, “Michael Pollan had a pig.”

Laugh at the absurdity of the story, and keep doing your own work, at your own pace. It is enough.

The post Michael Pollan had a pig appeared first on Rev. Heather Lou.

Trust: a sermon dialogue between Julia and Nathan

9 February 2019 at 15:26
Preached at High Plains Church, UU February 2019 ©

Julia:
So, Nathan, we've been asked to preach during a month focused on TRUST. This could go so many directions I can't even begin to summarize! (smile) What's one way you think TRUST has developed or changed between us in the 23 years we've been together?

Nathan:
I think the primary way trust has changed over those years is the complexity of what trust entails.  Early on, trust was about our growing romantic love and friendship.  Could I trust this new feeling?  Where would it go?  Could I trust you enough to really be myself and would you still like and love me once you really knew me? And I don't even mean the initial couple of weeks or months where that early flush of hormones and potential carries a lot of the weight, but the first several years when the charm can wear thin and you start to really see who this person is.  But even then it was still pretty easy--we were in our twenties and our problems seem simple by comparison.  Now, a couple of decades later, we've been through a variety of surgeries, deaths of parents, the purchase and sale of several houses, the agony of infertility, the challenges and fun of parenting, the demands of our careers.  Now, as we settle into the homey joy and homely challenges of middle age, I guess the question of trust has transformed into, well, whether you’ll still like and love me. 

Julia:
I do... quite a lot at times... but it’s not linear. That’s been a big learning for me over the past twenty-some years: that there can be times -- sometimes it’s a couple hours but sometimes it’s uncomfortably long, like months in a row -- where we’re less connected, less fond of each other, less in-sync, but that those times can and will end. At least, so far they have. And that’s a REALLY uncomfortable awareness, I know, the fact that -- despite what people promise at weddings, all innocent and well-intentioned -- no one can PROMISE another person that they will feel just as besotted about them in ten, twenty, thirty years as they do at the beginning. You and I feel like it’s just acknowledging reality to say that. So sticking together when it’s less emotionally rewarding is all about trust. It’s trusting that I made a good-enough choice in the first place... and when I say “good enough,” it’s not minimizing you. I’m using the phrase as it gets used in parenting, when we can’t figure out how to be “good” parents in any given situation so we just aim for “good enough.” If we can get our marriage to be “good enough” -- with excursions into “terrific” and “dreadful” -- we’re probably doing pretty well.

Nathan:

I like the “good enough” bit -- an idea from pediatrician and psychoanalyst Donald Winnicott.  He thought it was not only OK, but actually necessary for parents to fail in acceptable ways--not abuse or neglect--but in ways that slowly help a child learn to live with the imperfections and disappointments of this world.  We have to learn, as one writer put it, that “good enough” is not the same as “not enough.”  And here’s that trust--that we’ve made a good enough choice because we never actually know who we’re marrying or even, to some extent, who we’re married to.  I’m thinking here of the wonderful essay by philosopher Alain DeBotton titled, “Why you’ll marry the wrong person.”  To sum up:  we inevitably marry the “wrong” person because we have no idea of the future, are seeking to replicate barely recognized patterns from our childhood, and are blinded by conceptions of romance-based unions that seek to bottle momentary joys.  He winds up praising a certain pessimism in our marriages as an antidote to the destructively optimistic myths that we’ve been sold.  When we stop looking for one person to meet all our needs, an all but impossible demand, we can work on trying to negotiate the inevitable frustrations and challenges with grace, kindness, and forgiveness—and appreciate the good times more. 
So let me ask you a question and one that is more basic.  What does it mean to trust?

Julia:

“Trust” was talked about a lot when I was growing up American Baptist... “trusting God” was a common phrase ... but I haven’t spent much time thinking about trust in the 30 years since I stopped attending my childhood church. With God in the equation, “trust” was about relinquishing troublesome things -- fear, anxiety, even responsibility in some ways. But without God ... strangely enough, I’m thinking trust has to do with relinquishing EGO. There’s a line in the marvelous Leonard Cohen song, “Hallelujah” -- “Maybe there’s a God above / but all I’ve ever learned from love / is how to shoot somebody who outdrew you.” Too often in conversation with you -- my nearest and dearest, literally -- unless I’m really attentive, really feeling safe and open -- too often there’s an aspect of defensiveness. And I think ego is the thing that underlies that, as in “But I DID that already” -- “that’s not what I MEANT” -- “you SAID you were going to...” -- as if we have to prove our worth, our rightness, to each other over and over again. A huge part of trust within marriage, or any close partnership, feels to me like reining in my ego enough to acknowledge that you’re just living your life, experiencing things from your own completely different perspective... you’re almost certainly not TRYING to belittle or annoy me at any given moment. Ego gets in the way of this trust, for some reason. Why does that happen?

Nathan:
I think that reflects my initial question.  Am I actually lovable as I am--can I just be myself and is that ok?  It’s the fear of rejection that I think drives a lot of those ego-driven tensions.  And, coming back to DeBotton, if we can accept that we aren’t the “right” person, then maybe we ourselves can let go of struggling to be someone else.  The inadvertent offenses while still needing to be apologized for and addressed become less caustic because they are unintended.  The brilliant couples’ therapist, Esther Perel, observes that marriage, indeed all long-term relationships:  romantic, platonic, parental—entails being recruited for a role in a play we didn’t audition for.  We are playing a part in the other person’s internal drama.  If we can acknowledge this and work to let it go, perhaps we can settle into a sense of trust that allows us just to be ourselves.  I am not your image of me, but I am fundamentally always on your side--even when I’m annoyed or annoying, hurt or hurting, scared or scary--I am always going to choose your side.  Not because you’re my “soulmate,” but because I fundamentally like and love who you are —and I feel committed to you and our marriage.  In a somewhat meta-moment, I am writing this at 2:30 in the morning in early January, awake partially because I had too much caffeine and partly, mostly, because you said something that hurt my feelings last night in a argument that we’ve had repeatedly over twenty years.  And I feel hurt and defensive and pissed off ... and yet I know these feelings will pass.  It’s scary though—and here the small ego, full of fear, arises again. There is always that worry that I will at some point exhaust your good graces, that the burden of being with me will outweigh the benefits.  You’d think after all these years, that we could simply trust in ourselves and our relationship, but I still find it hard.  I desperately want security—and I’m hearing this in your reflections as well.  It’s funny because we come from such different backgrounds.  You grew up in a very stable, loving home and I was raised in an deeply unstable house where love couldn’t be trusted and was always conditional and, more often than not, weaponized.  And yet both of us struggle with these simple issues:  can I trust you to love me as I am?

And so what do we do?  Perhaps this is where we come back to the Buddhism that appeals to us both.  Buddhism encourages us not to ask for permanency, but to just rest in this moment and have compassion.  Right now, we are together.  Can I truly promise anything about the future?  That sounds realistic, but it doesn’t feel comforting at all.  Back to Perel, I know you weren’t going out for the role I often ask you to play, and I don’t want to constantly be auditioning for the role of your husband.  I can’t tell if we’re displaying the deep dysfunction of our marriage or bravely stating human truths involved in most marriages.  I’m thinking of a line from As You Like It:  “Thou seest we are not all alone unhappy. This wide and universal theater presents more woeful pageants than the scene Wherein we play.”

Julia: Those theatre metaphors are powerful, aren’t they? I’m writing this a few days later in January and, though we are back to peace in the household, I know as surely as I’m standing here that we will have that argument again. We will play that scene over and over, tired as we are of it. My appreciation of the Buddhist approach comes from the fact that, when I acknowledge my feelings rather than denying them, I’m telling MYSELF the truth. And when I’m telling myself the truth, I’m in a much better position to tell you the truth. And when that happens, uncomfortable as it can be, there’s the potential for us to step outside of the drama, go off-script, and create a shared reality. Awareness, mindfulness, helps me trust myself.

So, yes. We can’t, in good conscience, make promises about the future. But if look at where we’ve been so far in 23 years, it seems pretty likely that we’ll go on choosing each other. After all, everyone ELSE we might be with would be the wrong person to be married too, also.

Nathan:
But that’s a central problem within marriage and back to the trust issue again, of course.  How do we trust in what we DO have when what we MIGHT have is so seductive?  As Don Henley sang, “What are those voices outside love's open door, Make us throw off our contentment, And beg for something more?” I think we’re both increasingly feeling the often damaging artificiality of the modern construct of marriage.  Marriage for most of human history was a business contract and a way of addressing inheritance:  who was going to be a hard worker and who was going to get the goats or the castle after I die.  It wasn’t until the age of Jane Austen that ideas of romantic love as a central element in marriage began to take hold.  Then around the 1960s the stakes got upped again when marriage started being seen as a path to self-actualization — our spouse is supposed to help us become our highest, truest self. So we’ve gone from a sense that marriage was for creating children, sharing work, and passing on wealth to finding a single person to be my lifelong soul-mate, house-mate, co-parent, lover, best friend, business partner, secretary (to be fair about the mental load most women carry in relationships) and, of course, completely self-actualized herself through my own perfections and wisdom.  It sounds funny and excessive, but I’ve done a lot of weddings, and I always listen to the painfully exhaustive promises couples make in their vows.  You will fulfill all my needs, physical, spiritual, intellectual, sexual, and so on.  I see the tremendous pressure this puts on relationships in some of the folks I counsel---and that pressure leads to questions about what’s out there that might be better since the poor benighted fool I’m married to isn’t fulfilling it all.  Some marriages absolutely need to end, but many die because of unrealistic expectations for what is an incredibly fraught project to begin with.

And I think escaping the incredible pressure this puts on a couple requires a further nuance on the trust we’ve been talking about.  I have to trust that I don’t have to be everything, indeed I can’t be.  And the trust in our friendship, our partnership, and, yes, our love, is what allows us to encourage each other to have adventures separately.  That we can and should meet needs outside ourselves.   I am grateful that you have an intimate group of friends with whom you can share the challenges of your life.  I am proud of you for heading off by yourself to Fiji to track down what you needed to learn twenty years after living there the first time.  I wander off into the woods for solo adventures and other trips.  Both of us go walk-about, push boundaries, challenge ourselves, and then come home gratefully to our life partner.

Julia: And if we can both allow the other to wander off the beaten track, to explore a bit, that can take some pressure off our relationship. We don’t have to be everything. We can just be ourselves, imperfect but wonderful, and trust that that is enough, that we are enough. These broader nets of people and experiences take so much pressure off our relationship; I’m no longer asking you to meet every need. And it’s important to note that these issues don’t, of course, only apply to marriages or long term partnerships.  They apply to friends, family, parents, kids. We ALL need communities, villages, adventures, to make these intense relationships thrive.

Nathan: Yes, and, as I’m seeing after my latest, very intense round of therapy, they also apply to myself.  I, as you know, struggle with trust. There was practically none of it in my family of origin. I saw nothing of healthy relationships to another or oneself.  This has created in me, I’m starting to see, a real struggle to trust myself.  And without those early models, it becomes very hard to know what is trustworthy within me—and, then, what is trustworthy in others.  Trust is what allows for healthy boundaries in relationships.  I could go on, but learning to trust oneself is the precursor to being able to love both self and other.  And here, the more I can embrace imperfection, the better off I am.  Perfection is neither necessary nor possible.  Trust that acknowledges imperfection holds space for the ebb and flow of a living, growing relationship with myself and with you.

So the last question is to you.  Where do you want our trust to take us?

Julia:
The most honest answer is, “I don’t know.” It feels like we’re trying to invent something... like we can’t just traipse along in the groove of our grandparents’ or parents’ marriages, or any other partnership in history... as if the times we’re living in, the deep gender equality we idealize (whether or not we attain it), the changing conception of what marriage can and should be leave us in a confusingly wide-open space, without a map. I could be over-thinking... doubtless I AM over-thinking; I always do. But what do I want, really want?

The poet Adrienne Rich wrote: “An honorable human relationship — that is, one in which two people have the right to use the word ‘love’ — is a process, delicate, violent, often terrifying to both persons involved, a process of refining the truths they can tell each other.” Philosopher Maria Popova, commenting on Rich’s words, says, “Among the dualities that lend love both its electricity and its exasperation — the interplay of thrill and terror, desire and disappointment, longing and anticipatory loss — is also the fact that our pathway to this mutually refining truth must pass through a necessary fiction: We fall in love not just with a person wholly external to us but with a fantasy of how that person can fill what is missing from our interior lives.” End quote.

When we don’t RECOGNIZE that fantasy for what it is -- pure hopeful invention on each of our parts -- we invite disappointment over and over: we keep waiting for the other person to figure out the script, to be who we want and expect. But they’re acting out a different drama, from their own script.

I want a partnership that allows meaningful freedoms to both of us -- that allows us to explore areas of interest on our own at times -- but I also crave the safety and serenity that our life together, for the most part, provides. That sense of home as refuge, as the place where our unit of two -- or three -- is together against the craziness. So perhaps the best I can say is that I want us to be able to trust in the “beautiful imperfect”... to internalize a sense that even when things don't feel perfect that it’s okay, that the imperfect is good enough -- is, in fact, as good as it gets.

Where do YOU want our trust to take us?

Nathan:
No, no, we’re not going to end this with the man having the last word.  Let’s both offer a final sentence summary of what we’re thinking about trust in long term relationships.  And YOU get the final word.

Ok, here’s mine: Our relationship is an opportunity to let go of past models of marriage as business proposition or all-inclusive path to self-realization, and I trust in us to accept this beautiful imperfect in ways that create love, security, and connection for us both and for Ben. 

Julia: I’ll just expand your sentence to include ALL relationships. Being a true friend, a colleague, a child of aging parents -- being in relationship in any way gives us a chance to let go of fantasies of how it might be done perfectly and just DO it, beautifully and imperfectly, because relationships are worth the work.




Focus on my what?

10 February 2019 at 17:10
By: Heather
Photo by Trinity Kubassek from Pexels

When we lived in Alaska, our dog and I took weekly herding lessons. We weren’t very good at it. Herding dogs require a firm hand and a focused mind, and I have neither of those.

But I learned enough that shepherding’s metaphors shape the way I think.

Shepherds and sheepdogs move sheep by applying pressure to the flock, moving from one side to the other, nudging the sheep in the direction they want them to go. No straight lines, just persistent movement toward the goal.

It’s a good metaphor for living with my ADHD brain. It doesn’t do straight lines. Left to its own devices, it wanders and meanders, its attention drawn to the next shiny green mouthful.

I have felt unfocused lately, vaguely going in a direction I like, but with much more distraction. Much less able to choose a healthy habit and stick to it.

My flock of thoughts need the pressure of a trained predator—one that will nip and drive, but not devour.

 

 

 

The post Focus on my what? appeared first on Rev. Heather Lou.

Paradise and Plenty

10 February 2019 at 21:36
By: Karen
It’s full-fledged winter here in the upper Midwest. Over the past two weeks we’ve seen minus 24 degrees one day and minus 29 the next. The windows frosted. The furnace began to whine. The car stayed put for days – as did we. Then came the snow. And a thaw. Freezing rain. More snow, more […]

Justice on Earth: Chapter 8

11 February 2019 at 03:06
The 2018-19 UUA Common Read is:

This week, I'm looking at Chapter 8: Pamela Sparr’s essay, "Transforming Unitarian Universalist Culture: Stepping Out of Our Silos and Selves.” Sparr relates that when she taught about climate justice at a summer institute, she had been warned that participants didn’t want to be “bummed out.” Anyone who speaks about environmental issues faces that question: how to be inspiring rather than paralyzing or depressing. This is what I have said and firmly believe: reality is never depressing. Depression comes from attempts to block out reality. When those attempts fail and awareness seeps in, mixing and conflicting with our desire for denial, depression is the result. Embrace of reality – with no desire to deny any of it – is many things: fascinating, challenging, invigorating, even oddly peaceful. Reality may be beautiful, dangerous, or both. But reality can never be depressing. It's denial that's depressing.

Still, embracing reality is no easy thing. I’m not always great at that myself. But when I’m bummed out or just bored, I ask myself, “what is the reality here that I’m resisting rather than embracing?”

Sparr’s approach is to call for:

(1) a bolder prophetic imagination. We need to speak, among ourselves and to others, in visionary ways, showing humanity a better version of itself, offering moral clarity, and an unflinching insistence on justice.

(2) the courage and capacity to talk religiously. UUs are disproportionately involved in environmental organizations, yet when we show up for this work, our UUism is often invisible. “Our challenge is to move out of our secular skin and to wear our UU skin all the time” (83) – to claim our identity and authority as religious persons. Grounded in our faith, a moral language of hope and justice takes the center – and proposed technical solutions move to the periphery. This means UUs must get comfortable and articulate in about our profound sense of the sacredness of all life, the dignity and worth of every person and every threatened species, our wonder and awe and the interconnected mystery of existence. Faith-rooted solidarity is based on knowing that “my well-being is totally and irrevocably tied up with yours. My liberation is dependent on yours” (84). Acting religiously means that the opposition is never demonized, never “othered,” always loved.

(3) getting out of our silos. Racial injustice, climate change, sexual harassment and abuse, LGBTQ discrimination, environmental degradation and species extinction are all interconnected and all have the same solution: building a world of justice and equality. We can’t let ourselves get into a “single issue” silo.

(4) radical relationship building. “We are going to have to stretch ourselves to befriend and collaborate with many different types of people and movements, including those with whom some of us may feel theologically uncomfortable” (90).

(5) becoming more countercultural. Current culture is characterized by a disconnect from nature and a casual acceptance of power hierarchies (and thus of the injustice and inequality that necessarily inheres in institutionalized hierarchy). Our denomination must transform itself into one that is thoroughly counter to these characteristics.

Sounds to me like a five-fold approach for embracing reality.

Questions.
Do you know how to go about doing any of these five? Which ones? How?

For my reflection/summary on previous chapters, click the title:
  1. Jennifer Nordstrom, "Intersectionality, Faith, and Environmental Justice"
  2. Paula Cole Jones, "The Formation of the Environmental Justice Movement"
  3. Sheri Prud'homme, "Ecotheology"
  4. Sofia Betancourt, "Ethical Implications of Environmental Justice"
  5. Adam Robersmith, "Cherishing Our World: Avoiding Despair in Environmental Justice Work"
  6. Peggy Clarke, Matthew McHale, "Becoming Resilient: Community Life for a New Age
  7. Kathleen McTigue, "Drawing on the Deep Waters: Contemplative Practice in Justice-Making

The Monday Morning Teaser

11 February 2019 at 12:21

This week had a number of stories that need a few paragraphs of explanation, but which didn’t inspire me to write a longer piece. So my current plan is not to have a featured post this week. Instead, the weekly summary will be extra long. It’s possible some note from the summary will grow in the telling, so that I’ll pull it out into its own article, but so far that’s not happening.

Anyway, I project the summary coming out about 11 EST.

Rice Balls, Noodles, Fireworks, and Dragons

11 February 2019 at 16:02
This is the text of the Reflections I offered on Sunday, February 10, 2019 to the congregation I serve in Charlottesville, Virginia. Whether we call it “Chinese New Year,” the “Spring Festival,” or the “Lunar Festival,” this major Chinese celebration (which began this past Tuesday and will continue on through a week from this coming Wednesday) is a really, really big deal.  It’s celebrated

Fictions

11 February 2019 at 16:18

The lawless state of our southern border is a threat to the safety, security and financial well-being of all Americans.

– Donald Trump, 2019 State of the Union

The politics of eternity requires and produces problems that are insoluble because they are fictional.

– Timothy Snyder, The Road to Unfreedom

Every day he designs a false threat, steps in to the nonexistent battlefield, and declares himself victorious to a group of now emotionally dependent human beings, whose internal story and well-being depends on him winning. That’s the only way their world makes sense anymore, it is the only outcome they can conceive of.

– John Pavlovitz, “The Cult of Trump

There was no featured post this week.

This week everybody was talking about Virginia

Last week’s featured post “Ralph Northam and the Limits of Forgiveness” looks better now than it did at the time. When I wrote

I don’t think we’re ever going to find enough pure people to form a majority.

I didn’t know that the entire Democratic leadership of Virginia state government would soon find itself embroiled in scandal and facing calls to resign. (Also some Republicans. And then the virus spread to Mississippi.) Forget about forming a majority. In Virginia, it may not be possible to find enough pure people to staff a government.

My point (that Democrats need to define a forgiveness process for past incidents of racism, sexism, and homophobia) was improved on by Rev. William Barber (famous for leading the Moral Monday protests in North Carolina): Forgiveness has to begin with repentance. Repentance, for Barber, means more than just a verbal apology; it means taking action to restore the balance.

Whether we are talking about Northam or President Trump — Democrats or Republicans — restitution that addresses systemic harm must be the fruit of true repentance.

If Northam, or any politician who has worn blackface, used the n-word or voted for the agenda of white supremacy, wants to repent, the first question they must ask is “How are the people who have been harmed by my actions asking to change the policies and practices of our society?” In political life, this means committing to expand voting rights, stand with immigrant neighbors, and provide health care and living wages for all people. In Virginia, it means stopping the environmental racism of the pipeline and natural gas compressor station Dominion Energy intends to build in Union Hill, a neighborhood founded by emancipated slaves and other free African Americans.

Barber made one important point very clearly: It does no good to force out people who did racist things years ago, if their power will then pass to people who are sponsoring racist policies today.

we cannot allow political enemies of Virginia’s governor to call for his resignation over a photo when they continue themselves to vote for the policies of white supremacy. If anyone wants to call for the governor’s resignation, they should also call for the resignation of anyone who has supported racist voter suppression or policies that have a disparate impact on communities of color.

Barber’s article doesn’t revisit the 2017 gubernatorial election, but it’s worth thinking about. Northam was a candidate with a decades-old racist secret. But the Republican candidate in the race (Ed Gillespie) ran a race-baiting campaign, focused on raising fears about “sanctuary cities” (of which Virginia has none) and defending Confederate monuments (of which it has many).


While we’re talking about Confederate monuments, Smithsonian Magazine has an excellent long article “The Costs of the Confederacy“.

A century and a half after the Civil War, American taxpayers are still helping to sustain the defeated Rebels’ racist doctrine, the Lost Cause. First advanced in 1866 by a Confederate partisan named Edward Pollard, it maintains that the Confederacy was based on a noble ideal, the Civil War was not about slavery, and slavery was benign.

The authors traveled all over the South, and found lots of tax-supported Lost Cause propaganda.

We went on many tours of the homes of the Confederacy’s staunchest ideologues, and without exception we were told that the owners were good and the slaves were happy.

At the home of Confederate Secretary of State Robert Toombs, a question about his slaves (otherwise barely mentioned) elicited a quote (from a Depression-era oral history of slavery) from a slave about how proud he was to work for “Marse Robert Toombs”.

A more revealing, well-documented story is that of Garland H. White, an enslaved man who escaped Toombs’ ownership just before the Civil War and fled to Ontario. After the war erupted he heroically risked his freedom to join the United States Colored Troops. He served as an Army chaplain and traveled to recruit African-American soldiers. We found no mention at the Toombs memorial of White’s experience. In fact, we know of no monument to White in all of Georgia.

And that’s a point I wish got more attention: In addition to well-celebrated figures like Robert E. Lee and Stonewall Jackson, the South had real Civil War heroes like White, people who risked their lives for freedom rather than for slavery. Their monuments are nowhere.

and the possibility of another government shutdown

The deadline is Friday. This weekend the negotiators started sounding pessimistic. But a lot can happen in a week.

and Jeff Bezos vs. the National Enquirer

I’m wondering who at the National Enquirer said: “Let’s threaten the richest man in the world. That always works out well.”

At the moment, the Bezos/AMI story is great gossip, with nude selfies and claims of extortion and so on. It could turn into much more if some of Bezos’ accusations and implications turn out to be true.

Because deep down, we’re all still in middle school.

Let’s recap: The Enquirer ran a story on January 9 about Bezos’ extramarital affair, the day after Bezos and his wife MacKezie announced that they were getting a divorce. I haven’t heard whether the prospect of the story played any role in the timing or the fact of the divorce. The Enquirer story included “intimate texts” between Bezos and his mistress.

Bezos decided he wanted to know how the Enquirer got those texts, and what motivated them to go after him to begin with, so he hired investigators. You can hire a lot of investigators if you’re worth $100 billion.

In particular, Bezos wanted know if the motive was political. He owns The Washington Post, which makes him an enemy of AMI CEO David Pecker’s friend Donald Trump, and of the Saudi government, with whom AMI is seeking a lucrative alliance. The Post has been relentless about exposing Trump’s lying and corruption, and it refuses to let the Saudi government get away with murdering one of its journalists, Jamaal Khashoggi.

That implication of a political motive apparently unhinged Pecker. According to Bezos’ blog post on the subject, Pecker’s people made Bezos “an offer I couldn’t refuse”. (This is a Godfather reference.) Bezos should stop investigating and instead release a statement that his people “have no knowledge or basis for suggesting that AMI’s coverage was politically motivated or influenced by political forces.” And in exchange, AMI wouldn’t release the texts and photos they had of him, including a naked selfie and revealing photos of his mistress.

Bezos instead decided to make the whole email exchange public and dare AMI to do its worst. (As Bobby Axelrod says on the TV show Billions: “What’s the use of having fuck-you money if you never say ‘Fuck you.’?”) Since going public, Bezos has picked up support from other people who claim to have been threatened by AMI.

And there’s another problem:

Federal prosecutors on Friday began looking into the accusation to see if American Media’s alleged conduct might violate the company’s agreement to cooperate with a government investigation of Trump, according to people familiar with the matter. If so, it could expose American Media and Enquirer Publisher David J. Pecker to prosecution for campaign-finance violations related to the McDougal payoff.

So it’s Amazon’s founder vs. the National Enquirer, with the possibility that the story might spill over and implicate Trump or the Saudi government. Pass the popcorn.

and the State of the Union

Usually, I treat the State of the Union as major news. For presidents of both parties, I’ve been known to do a featured article attempting to read between the lines. But this is another way in which this administration is different: Trump’s speeches are just not that serious, not even the SOTU. (Stacey Abrams’ Democratic response is here.) He says things that he thinks will sound good, but there is unlikely to be any follow-through.

Like all Trump speeches, this one was full of lies and misleading statements. It slandered undocumented immigrants, using the same propaganda techniques Hitler pioneered on the Jews. (Specifically: Highlighting crimes by the targeted group as if they were somehow different than other crimes. I’m sure someone could compile an list of crimes by German-Americans — people like Trump and me — that is just as horrifying as Trump’s litany of crimes by undocumented immigrants.) He segued directly from Iranian threats against Israel to the 11 Jews murdered at the Tree of Life Synagogue in Pittsburgh, as if the murderer had been a Muslim motivated by Iranian propaganda rather than a white supremacist who blamed Jews for the migrant caravans that Trump had been rabble-rousing about.

To the extent that the speech laid out an agenda, it’s hard to take that agenda seriously. Once again, for example, he called for an infrastructure plan.

I am eager to work with you on legislation to deliver new and important infrastructure investment, including investments in the cutting edge industries of the future.

He said something similar last year (“Tonight, I am calling on the Congress to produce a bill that generates at least $1.5 trillion for the new infrastructure investment we need.”), and delivered a poorly-thought-out proposal that his own party shelved.

The next major priority for me, and for all of us, should be to lower the cost of healthcare and prescription drugs — and to protect patients with pre-existing conditions.

But of course, the main threat to people with pre-existing conditions has been Trump himself, and his eagerness to undo ObamaCare without caring what replaces it.

I am asking the Congress to pass legislation that finally takes on the problem of global freeloading and delivers fairness and price transparency for American patients. We should also require drug companies, insurance companies, and hospitals to disclose real prices to foster competition and bring costs down.

In any previous administration, that would mean that he had a piece of legislation drafted and ready to go. I sincerely doubt that Trump does. He has stated his good intentions, so now it’s up to somebody else to craft a plan that manifests them, which he will feel no obligation to support.

I want people to come into our country in the largest numbers ever, but they have to come in legally.

So far, his policy has been the exact opposite: Not only has he demanded substantial reductions in legal immigration, but he has also tried to expel people who came here legally under the Temporary Protected Status program, and has been violating American laws and treaties by refusing to let refugees legally request asylum at the border. So is this new love of legal immigration an about-face, or did he just say something that sounded good in the moment, which we’ll never hear about again? I’ll bet on the latter.

The one statement in the speech I take seriously is this one:

If there is going to be peace and legislation, there cannot be war and investigation. It just doesn’t work that way!

In other words, if Congress starts getting serious about oversight on this historically corrupt administration, Trump is going to take it personally. Unlike, say, Bill Clinton, who continued to work with Newt Gingrich’s House Republicans while they investigated him constantly — because that was his job — Trump intends to hold the country hostage. If Congress passes legislation that would benefit America, Trump reserves the right not to sign it out of personal pique.


Democrats immediately called his bluff on that. A variety of House committees are gearing up for investigations of Trump’s foreign business activities, possible violations of the Constitution’s emolument clause, family separations at the Mexican border, and other issues. But Democrats are planning to proceed methodically.

“We’re going to do our homework first,” said House Oversight Committee Chairman Elijah E. Cummings (D-Md.), whose panel is scheduled to receive testimony from Commerce Secretary Wilbur Ross next month. “What [Republicans] would do is, they would go out and make headlines a week or two before the hearing and then look for some facts to prove the headlines. We’re not doing that.”

The difference, IMO, is that Republicans investigating the Obama administration suspected there was nothing to find, so their biggest bang would be in the insinuations they could make as hearings were looming. But Democrats investigating Trump believe the corruption and illegal activity is really there. The payoff will come when they find it.


That said, I watched a small amount of Acting Attorney General Matt Whitaker’s six hours of testimony to the House Judiciary Committee, and saw clips of the “highlights” of the rest it. I don’t think the hearing reflected well on anybody. Whitaker was needlessly rude and argumentative, and the members of the committee were needlessly aggressive and accusatory.

The main thing was to ask Whitaker a small list of questions and get his answers on the record. So here’s the content of the whole six hours: He denies telling Trump or other “senior White House officials” anything he learned about the Mueller investigation. He says he hasn’t interfered in Mueller’s investigation. He refused to say whether or not he thinks the Mueller investigation is a “witch hunt”.

I think it’s important that investigating House Democrats project an image of calm determination: They won’t be stopped, but they’re in this for the good of the nation rather than to get on TV. Trump needs to tell his base a story of Us Against Them, while Democrats need the story to be Truth Will Out. The Whitaker hearing turned into Us Against Them, so in that sense I don’t think it was a good start.

and abortion

So Louisiana has passed an anti-abortion law that requires doctors in clinics that provide abortions to get admitting privileges in a local hospital. That may look reasonable at first glance, but I explained why it’s not when Alabama had a similar law challenged in 2014.

The history of violence against abortionists in Alabama, and the continuing harassment and intimidation of doctors and their patients, makes it unsafe for an abortion-clinic doctor to live in large parts of Alabama. In the three clinics likely to close, most doctors have their primary practice and residence elsewhere. (One doctor drives to the clinic from another state, using a diverse series of rentals cars rather than his own car, in hopes that he won’t be spotted by potential assassins.) That lack of local presence makes them ineligible for admitting privileges at local hospitals. The clinics could stay open if they could recruit new doctors who live and practice nearby, but that is impossible because they would not be safe.

So in passing this provision, the Alabama legislature was, in essence, conspiring with violent terrorists. Clinics would be shut down by the confluence between the law and predictable outside-the-law violence. That wasn’t some unfortunate but unforeseen side effect; that was the point.

Eventually, a Texas version of the law reached the Supreme Court, where it was struck down. (Justice Breyer wrote the 5-4 majority opinion. The provision did not confer “medical benefits sufficient to justify the burdens upon access”.) Courts are supposed to respect precedent rather than continuing to re-examine the same arguments, so that should have been the end of such laws.

It wasn’t. Louisiana passed its own admitting-privileges law, which is expected to make two of the three abortion clinics in Louisiana close. Anti-abortion activist judges refused to cite the binding precedent and illegitimately pushed the case up the line, figuring that with Kavanaugh replacing Kennedy, maybe the balance of power on the Court had changed. They were right about Kavanaugh, but Chief Justice Roberts cast the deciding vote to block enforcement of the Louisiana law until the Court can rule on its constitutionality.

When Susan Collins blessed Kavanaugh’s appointment to the Court, she took at face value his pledge to respect precedents like Roe v Wade. Charles Pierce explains how that is playing out.

[Kavanaugh’s] dissent relies on, along other things, the transparently phony notion that Louisiana officials will be judicious in using the law they’ve already passed. He writes:

…the State’s regulation provides that there will be a 45-day regulatory transition period before the new law is applied. The State represents, moreover, that Louisiana “will not move aggressively to enforce the challenged law” during the transition period.

You’d have to be as big a sap as Susan Collins is to believe that one. It’s impossible that even Kavanaugh believes it. What the defenders of the right to choose feared—and of which they still remain wary—is that upholding the Louisiana law will send a clear message to state judges that the federal system will not defend its own rulings. Thus would Roe v. Wade essentially die from a thousand cuts.

I’ll pull out another piece of Kavanaugh’s dissent.

during the 45-day transition period, both the doctors and the relevant hospitals could act expeditiously and in good faith to reach a definitive conclusion about whether those three doctors can obtain admitting privileges.

Kavanaugh trusts the good faith of anti-abortion forces, when bad faith is the whole point of this law. That’s what we can expect from Kavanaugh. Maybe he won’t seek to reverse Roe immediately, but in every case that comes before him, he will concoct some reason not to enforce it quite yet.

but ultimately, the Green New Deal might turn out to be the most important thing that happened this week

Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez and Senator Ed Markey released a proposed nonbinding congressional resolution calling for a Green New Deal.

It’s hard to know how to think about this. On the one hand, no one expects this plan for a “ten-year national mobilization” to be carried out as written. It may not even be possible, even if the country and its government had the political will to do so. (For example: “to achieve net-zero greenhouse gas emissions through a fair and just transition for all communities and workers” in ten years.)

In addition to the call for massive infrastructure spending to create an environmentally sustainable economy (that anything calling itself a “Green New Deal” would have to have), it also includes (in the words of New York magazine’s Eric Levitz) “damn near every item on progressives’ policy wish list”: national health care, union rights, racial justice, and so on.

So if your definition of a “serious proposal” includes an expectation that it might become law sometime soon and succeed in achieving its stated goals, this is not a serious proposal. There’s no negotiation with Mitch McConnell that starts here and winds up anywhere. (Mitch wouldn’t even agree to massive infrastructure spending on roads and bridges when the leader of his own party called for it.) And even if Democrats win all the open Senate seats on 2020, it’s still not going to happen, because there’s the whole question of possibility.

Maybe that bothers you, or maybe see the Green New Deal serving another purpose. Slate’s Mike Pesca is bothered.

Well, call me a tired old watchdog, or fuddy-duddy fact finder—I do not assess policies through the lens of the charismatic and compelling Ocasio-Cortez, who has become the perfect distillation of the Trumpian, big swing, mega-MAGA hashtag, nonconstrained by literalism, post–reality-to-accuracy politics age. I tend to judge ideas by considering the opinions of experts who know more than I do. And when it comes to the Green New Deal, almost none of these people think that the United States can achieve its goal of 100 percent renewable energy by 2030.

… Perhaps I am naïve when it comes to the way the world works, and I should realize that knowingly unrealistic, which is to say dishonest, goals and proposals that will not work are the best ways to steer us to a better future. Instead, I worry that having impossible goals might dissuade the public and discredit those proposing them.

Levitz, though, sees something else, “so long as you take the Green New Deal seriously, but not literally.”

AOC’s decision to append a wide variety of progressive goals — each with its own influential constituency — to her climate plan is tactically sound: If the entire Democratic agenda is rebranded as the “Green New Deal,” a future Democratic government will be less likely to ignore the central importance of climate sustainability to all of its other policy goals; which is to say, a future Democratic government will be less likely to de-prioritize preventing ecological catastrophe.

… As a mechanism for raising expectations for what qualifies as a progressive climate policy — and increasing the probability that Congress passes such a policy within the next decade — the Green New Deal is politically realistic. As a blueprint for a climate bill that is both legislatively viable, and commensurate with the scale of the ecological threat humanity faces, it is not.

But neither is anything else. … There is simply no way to mount a realistic response to climate change without changing political reality. And for now, the Green New Deal is the most realistic plan we’ve got for doing the latter.


Whether you’re a fan of AOC or think she gets too much attention already, her lightning-round exploration of government ethics limits is brilliant and deserves wider distribution.

and you also might be interested in …

If you ever doubted that the conservative version of “religious freedom” only applies to Christians, the conservative majority on the Supreme Court just made it clear. Thursday, the Court voted 5-4 (on party lines, a phrase we didn’t used to use for Supreme Court votes) to allow Alabama to execute a Muslim prisoner without honoring his request to have an imam present. The prison employs a Christian chaplain.

The chaplain kneels and prays with inmates who seek pastoral care, the officials said. After considering Mr. Ray’s request, prison officials agreed to exclude the chaplain. But they said allowing the imam to be present raised unacceptable safety concerns.

Justice Kagan’s dissent summarizes the problem:

Under that policy, a Christian prisoner may have a minister of his own faith accompany him into the execution chamber to say his last rites. But if an inmate practices a different religion—whether Islam,Judaism, or any other—he may not die with a minister of his own faith by his side. That treatment goes against the Establishment Clause’s core principle of denominational neutrality.


While we’re talking about religion and the law, the Masterpiece Cakeshop case (where the Supreme Court sided with the baker against the gay couple that wanted a wedding cake) was decided on such narrow grounds that it didn’t really settle the underlying issues: How do anti-discrimination laws interface with a business-owner’s freedoms of speech and religion? So now new cases are rising through the system.


Two completely different views of what’s going on in Venezuela: It’s about restoring democracy. It’s about preserving white supremacy.


As people start completing their tax returns, many of them are realizing that the Trump Tax Cut didn’t do much for them. Some are actually paying more tax, due to changes in deductions. And even people who are paying less tax in total are being surprised that they owe money rather than have a refund coming. That’s because withholding guidelines were changed, possibly with the intent to make the tax cut temporarily look bigger than it actually was.


Finland ran an experiment in giving people a guaranteed basic income. The government picked 2,000 unemployed Finns at random and promised them $635 a month for two years, no strings attached. Find a job, don’t find a job, you get to keep the money.

How you view the results depends on whether you’re a glass-half-full person or not. The GBI turned out to have no effect on whether or not people got jobs. So it didn’t turn their lives around, but it also didn’t encourage idleness. The recipients became slightly more entrepreneurial, and they reported feeling much less stressed.


OK, I admit that “Trump supporter says something stupid” isn’t news any more. I think we see way too much coverage of stuff like that already. But this

Candace Owens … is one of the president’s best-known black supporters. The 29-year-old activist and social media aficionado regularly appears on Fox News imploring black Americans to leave the Democratic Party. … At a December event in London, Owens said:

“I actually don’t have any problems at all with the word ‘nationalism.’ I think that the definition gets poisoned by elitists that actually want globalism. Globalism is what I don’t want, so when you think about whenever we say nationalism, the first thing people think about, at least in America, is Hitler. … He was a national socialist. But if Hitler just wanted to make Germany great and have things run well, okay, fine. The problem is that he wanted, he had dreams outside of Germany. He wanted to globalize.”

So basically, as long as Hitler just wanted to annihilate the Jews in Germany, that was “okay, fine”. He didn’t get out of line until he started to go after the Jews in Poland and Holland. National death camps good; international death camps bad.

Back in May, Trump tweeted:

Candace Owens of Turning Point USA is having a big impact on politics in our Country. She represents an ever expanding group of very smart “thinkers,” and it is wonderful to watch and hear the dialogue going on…so good for our Country!


And “Trump is a hypocrite” isn’t exactly news either, but this story similarly takes things to a new level. The Washington Post describes “a long-running pipeline of illegal workers” between Trump National Golf Club in Bedminster, New Jersey and the village of Santa Teresa de Cajon in Costa Rica.

Over the years, the network from Costa Rica to Bedminster expanded as workers recruited friends and relatives, some flying to the United States on tourist visas and others paying smugglers thousands of dollars to help them cross the U.S.-Mexico border, former employees said. New hires needed little more than a crudely printed phony green card and a fake Social Security number to land a job, they said.

Why did the Trump Organization do this? In a word, money.

There was also seeding, watering, mowing, building the sand traps and driving bulldozers, mini-excavators and loaders — all while they earned about $10 an hour or less, they said. Around that time, a licensed heavy equipment operator in central New Jersey would have received an average of $51 to $55 per hour in wages and benefits, according to union officials at the International Union of Operating Engineers Local 825 in the nearby town of Springfield.


In The Atlantic, Richard Parker explains why Trump’s wall will never be built: The people who own that land now have enough clout to protect it from being taken by the federal government.

There will be no “concrete structure from sea to sea,” as the president once pledged. Taking this land would constitute an assault on private property and require a veritable army of lawyers, who, I can assure you, are no match for the state’s powerful border barons.


Elizabeth Warren officially announced her candidacy, during a week when the Native American issue refused to die. I’m sad about that. To me, Warren is the most authentic candidate in the race. She went into politics because she felt that the big banks and corporations were rigging the system against ordinary people, so that the path she had taken from the working class to the professional class was now much, much harder to travel. That’s what her career has been about ever since.

I have to agree with Matt Yglesias’ take:

Warren would like to have a debate about economic policy with Trump. Trump would like everyone to fall back on racial identity instead. You, as a citizen or a journalist or whatever else you are, are allowed to choose whether or not to take the bait on his provocations.


Amy Klobuchar is in the race. My impression is that Klobuchar is the Democrats’ most likeable candidate other than maybe Biden. She’s also the candidate I would feel most confident of in a race against Trump. She radiates a Midwestern decency that I think Trump would have a hard time countering.

But I recall another Minnesota candidate, Republican Tim Pawlenty. It’s hard to remember now, but at the beginning of the 2012 cycle, a lot of pundits were projecting Pawlenty as the candidate the party would ultimately settle on, because he was the one who would be most acceptable to all the major Republican factions.

The problem with that strategy was that Pawlenty turned out to be nobody’s first choice, so he was out of the race before a single vote was cast. That’s going to be Klobuchar’s challenge: How is she going to become people’s first choice, rather than just somebody they like?

If you’re mad as hell and you’re not going to take it any more, other candidates will express that anger better for you. But if you’re tired of being angry all the time and you long for a politics that’s more than the Outrage of the Day, you might want to look at Amy. (Or Cory Booker.)

and let’s close with something topical

The Dunning-Kruger song from The Incompetence Opera.

The voluntary dive

12 February 2019 at 18:26
By: Heather
Photo by Pexels

The second task Harry Potter faces in the Triwizard Tournament takes place at the Great Lake of Hogwarts. Harry, who does not know how to swim, has to rescue his best friend Ron Weasley, held captive under the water by the merpeople who live in the lake.

At the last minute, Harry acquires a handful of gillyweed—which promises to help him swim, and breathe underwater. Desperate to save his friend, Harry stuffs the gillyweed in his mouth—and immediately struggles to breathe air, as gills form in his neck. He looks down, and his feet have become flippers. Delighted, he leaps into the lake, shooting through the dark water with ease.

Harry rescues Ron, then lingers when another champion doesn’t arrive to save her sister. He struggles to the surface, dragging Ron and the young girl with him. By the time his head breaks through the surface of the water, his gills and fins are gone, replaced by lungs and human feet. Helped out of the water, he collapses onto the dock, cold and gasping for air.

——————————

This morning Facebook showed me a picture from six years ago—a night photo I took with my phone from the balcony of our hotel in Kauai. I was pregnant—just a few weeks into the second trimester, reveling in the release from all-day-sickness.

Everything about that first pregnancy was an adventure, a new experience. It was a deep, voluntary dive into the mysteries of parenthood. “Mother” was becoming my new identity, and it was so interesting that I didn’t notice, or didn’t mind, that I was losing track of my non-parental self. “Mama” felt like an addition, rather than something that obscured.

Even after Dub, the novelty of parenting, the never-ending flow of new challenges, new things to learn, kept me from noticing just how much of myself I was losing in this new life of caretaking.

I loved being pregnant with Tea. But we were also trying to sell our house, and I was wrapping up a parish ministry position, and we were trying to find a house.

After he was born, he was a new little being to get to know, and I loved him so much. But I had already learned how to take care of a baby. It was not new. It was not enough to distract me from the fact that I cannot breathe underwater.

Slowly, necessity has driven me persistently toward the surface, my lungs longing for air.

——————————

Mothers and other nurturers of tiny children dive voluntarily into murky waters. We ensure the continuity of our species, at tremendous cost to our bodies, our minds, our career and earning potential.

As our faces break the surface of the water, we need hands to reach down and drag us onto the dock. As we emerge from the early years of parenting, we need towels wrapped around our shivering bodies. We need to hear you celebrate our valor. We need warm beverages and a hearty snack so that we can begin to regain our strength and remember who we are.

——————————

I am not a fish. I am not a whale or a dolphin. I am not even a frog or a duck. I am a human being, and my favorite way of being in the water is a warm bath.

The kids call me Mommy, but my name is Heather Louise. Caring for my family is so much of what I do these days, but it is not who I am.

I have not drowned. I am alive.

Breathing air, I remember myself. Feeling the ground beneath my feet, I remember who I am. With each milestone of the kids’ independence, I reclaim and celebrate myself, forever changed, but still me.

 

 

The post The voluntary dive appeared first on Rev. Heather Lou.

Light

15 February 2019 at 12:04
This time of year depresses me -- literally -- with its dark mornings and uniform bleakness of the terrain. It's not the deep despair of my bipolar depression, but a constant sense of flatness, of anhedonia, of just wanting to stay in bed. The festivities of Christmas that buoyed up my spirits have long passed; all now is grey.

My psychiatrist has prescribed 1 hour a day in my grow room for light therapy. There's plenty of light in the small basement room, supplied by eight fluorescent light fixtures. And, although it's a small room, there's a table and chair where I can sit and even an old iPad I use to maintain my plant records.

And then there's the plants. Right now, I have starts of herbs like hyssop and calamint, celery leaf and Asian celery, and my tomatoes and peppers popping out of the ground. For the most part, they're tiny seedlings with their seed leaves no bigger than a baby mouse's ear. But they're alive, and I almost believe I can feel the light of their lives brightening my day.

In the gloom of this season, I will take all the light I can get.

My Sanctum

16 February 2019 at 15:18
As I have mentioned before, one of the things that saves me from severe winter blahs (aka Seasonal Affective Disorder) is my planning for the spring garden. 

I should explain that my garden has rules: everything I plant in it should be, at least in part, edible*. This means that I landscape with edible flowers, herbs, and plants that have been gathered and eaten in American or other cultures. Most of these can't be found in nurseries or are rather expensive if bought as plants, so I grow them from seed myself in my grow room.**

 Here is a view of my grow room, which is a small basement room that used to be the coal room back when my 100-year-old house was a youngster: 
Not very impressive, is it?


The wires are for all the fluorescent fixtures and the heat pads -- and the ancient iPad repurposed for record keeping that you see at your left.  The wall that you can't see is lined with reflective material that was meant to insulate a garage door. Peel and stick -- excellent for increasing the light in this room.

The flats you see are for two sets of items I'm growing -- the edible nightshades (tomatoes, peppers, eggplant) and a handful of herbs (celery, lovage, yarrow, calamint, perilla, hyssop, alpine basil herb).


Closeup of my first herb flat



I have more to plant -- I'm waiting on seeds for my moon garden and more herbs and for some flowers (and for lots of things that will get planted directly in the garden. By the time I'm done, I will have six to eight flats of seedlings to nurture.

Not all of them will survive. Past seedlings have succumbed to damping off disease (which I fight heroically with cinnamon water spray) and watering malfunctions. Some seeds never come up. On the other hand, sometimes they grow faster than I expected, which is why I'm setting the top shelf (that you don't see) for taller seedlings to reside. I will save the best of the plants that come up for planting come spring.***

Spring comes to me sooner than to most because of my grow room, with its ugly cement floor and worn shelves. Today I sat with my seedlings, thinning them out so that they could grow strong, and feeling, if not happy, a bit less out-of-sorts.








* This year's exception is the moon garden, which is comprised of white, night-scented flowers, most of which are toxic to deadly if eaten.

** When I say "grow room", people think I've got one of these high-tech setups advertised on eBay where people grow -- well, plants that are illegal to possess or use in this state. Mine is not nearly so exciting.


*** This doesn't count the direct-seeded vegetables. I have to admit that I'm not as good with these because it gets too hot to weed and there are so many weeds. I'm working on using more mulching and earlier morning weeding.

Another round of killing my darlings

17 February 2019 at 12:33
This morning, I'm editing a story for a short story contest. When I first wrote the story, I wrote it as an origin story for one of my characters and an exploration into cross-cultural relationships. For the contest, I knew I would have to edit out about 500 words to meet the word count.

But then, in the middle of editing words out, I realized several things. First, that the story could and should stand alone from its original purpose, so I edited out references to the magical realism world it came from. Next, embarrassingly, that there wasn't enough tension in the story to make it memorable. I want to place the biggest part of the tension internally, not externally, even though there's tension in the relationship between the two characters as well.

Writing is this process in which getting the ideas down on paper is only the first part. Refining the story into something that's not just readable but skillful becomes the harder part. The hardest part is looking at what you've written with a critical eye, carving away parts of the story that do not serve their purpose, no matter how much one loved them when they were written. This is why the rule of editing is "Kill your darlings," because in effect that is what the writer does in polishing.

 I'm off now to kill my darlings.

Expectations

18 February 2019 at 12:14
I'm down to twenty readers, but I am assured that all of you are real people instead of bots or that the CIA is no longer reading this for hidden messages -- just kidding. I think. Thank you for following me.

I'm at a loss as to how to get more readers. This is my big worry about embarking in self-publishing as well. In a world where everything is screaming for attention, how does one actually get attention? Quality is not enough, as is evidenced by many industries -- music, books, movies -- where the hyped gets more interest than the small shining gem of a creation.

What's enough? I've never stopped to consider this.

Expectations have a way of expanding. At the beginning of this journey, I didn't know if I could write 50,000 words. Then, as I reached that point, I expected to be able to write whole novels which grew to 80,000 words or more. Then I expected to get published, which hasn't happened yet but could happen if I self-published. Yet now I expect to have more than twenty people read my blog. And I expect them to comment occasionally.  

 Maybe I should scale my expectations down. Maybe twenty faithful readers are enough. Maybe self-publishing, with its potential of only a handful of readers, is enough.  


The Monday Morning Teaser

18 February 2019 at 12:49

The long-awaited constitutional crisis looks like it might finally be here. Trump’s specious declaration of a national emergency threatens to reverse Congress’ decision not to fund his wall. If this stands, the Republic will be fundamentally changed.

Power has been gradually shifting from the legislative to the executive branch of government since the New Deal, but the one power Congress has retained is the power of the purse. If presidents can now declare a national emergency on any pretext, and redirect money Congress has appropriated for other purposes, then the power of the purse is now a shared power, and Congress has been greatly diminished.

I’ll discuss this in more detail in “One Fishy Emergency”, which should be out soon. That will be followed by a less timely piece, “I See Color”, which is my response to Howard Schultz’ claim that “I didn’t see color as a young boy and I honestly don’t see color now.” That should be out around 10 EST.

The weekly summary will collect some further odds and ends around Trump’s bizarre national-emergency speech, then discuss Rep. Omar’s apology for raising an old anti-Semitic trope (and the bad-faith denunciations of her from people who routinely do far worse), a first-person account of a late-term abortion, Mark Kelly’s amazing campaign-rollout video, Amazon backing out of New York, and a few other things, before closing with a story about one of the most poorly conceived crimes ever. Probably that’s out before noon.

โŒ