So, I am all annoyed and feminista on the asses of girls who call their friends "whores" or "dressing promiscuously," or maybe they are just really "asking for it?" I mean really. I must be getting old, because I'm really starting to identify with those women who get pissed at my generation for not being feminist enough. Raising teenage daughters has me convinced, OK? Women are still getting the short end of the stick - but too often, from each other.
What is up with girls participating in this crazymaking behavior? Why are women of any age, who are comfortable with their sexuality, a threat? Why does it make other women crazy? Why do men feel they have to stomp out this behavior (unless it benefits them?) OK, I know I'm making some generalizations here. I apologize. But it seems to me as if society is moving awfully slowly in treating women as equals, and as more than their body parts, or their assumed sexuality, or sexual behavior (often incorrectly assumed, btw).
And why is it that women are uncomfortable confronting this behavior?
Yes, I have become a raging feminist. Sue me.
Showing posts with label values. Show all posts
Showing posts with label values. Show all posts
Wednesday, May 18, 2011
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
On becoming
I remember when I first went to visit a spiritual director as part of small group ministry that I was involved in two years ago, and I told her, "I have done so much growing already...it's sometimes frustrating when I get glimpses of how much more I have to do." Chaplaincy training is another place where you face that realization just about every day.
Another conversation that ended up being very true was when the student chaplain at Meadville Lombard told my triad group (my triad met weekly for course work, and met with the chaplain monthly) that seminary was in a lot of ways a way of breaking us down into small pieces so we could put them all back together again - theologically, emotionally, sometimes even physically, due to the intense need for self care.
When I was a child, I was Catholic, and I had transcendent experiences of God. I had faith in a supernatural Father, and I prayed to Him, and felt His presence in my life. At some point though, existential questions of suffering in my life, and perhaps even a biology of atheism, took away that personal relationship with a Christian God (and it was always a relationship with God, not with Jesus, or even Mary, which is perhaps why it was so natural to become a Unitarian Universalist).
I continued to have transcendental experiences in my life - moments of becoming, of growing, of mystical connection with other people, with nature, with something more - and those experiences are what keep me an agnostic, that make me a person who is aware of the unknown, and of possibility, while still subscribing to Occam's Razor. In a recent post about prayer, I explored some of my thoughts about prayer as a person of non-traditional faith, and I refound this quote that spoke to me. As a religious humanist, I am a cosmic theist, in that I believe in the transcendent immanence of God, which some might call panentheism. However, I have not felt that personal transcendent experience of God (and I realize that is a loaded word) very often as an adult.
I remember being about 10, during the Cold War, and thinking about how infinitely stupid adults were, as a I lay awake, fearful of bombs falling on my house or my school. And I remember an image of physically tucking that thought away into the back of my 10 year old mind, and telling myself that I would never forget to realize that adults were stupid. That we complicate things unnecessarily for ourselves, which results in all sorts of negative consequences in our lives, our social networks, our world. More on this later.
This morning, when I was meditating, I felt God (again, that loaded word, especially for me, as an agnostic) as a presence. I believe in connections, in something greater than the sum our our living, aware parts. And that not only showed up for me this morning but has been with me, as a presence, in the room, all day. It's kind of frightening actually - I mean, I actually thought, perhaps I am having a mental breakdown of some sort ;).But, I am a levelheaded kind of gal, and I am pretty sure I know how this actual feeling of presence has come back into my life.
For some time now, I have been wrestling with prayer, my love of Catholic tradition from my childhood, and with how to make my daily spiritual practice more meaningful, which I have, through ritualistic meditation each day. But it hasn't been until the last 4 weeks of chaplaincy that I have prayed, really prayed with people. And the part where being as a child (as Jesus himself would remind us) comes in, is that it doesn't have to be complicated. I don't have to get caught up in the words God, or Jesus, or Christ, or heaven, or sin. My role as a chaplain is to be present with people, to help them be, to serve with humility. It doesn't really matter what I believe in that moment - it matters that I can connect with that person, and that we create something through our relationship in that moment. If I can let go of my baggage about semantics (and as a writer and editor for many years, many that know me well will know that's a difficult task), and just be in the moment of wonder and (God) and creation, then that has the potential to become transcendent.
This prayer that I have been engaged in and wrestled with, and felt awkward in and powerful in - that has changed my spiritual practice. Again:
"When I pray, the humanist in me is patient but nonplussed, asking who I think I am talking to, and I reply that I don't know, but I do it anyway, my breath casting words into the seemingly unanswering air. Perhaps it is only my need to make the universe personal and intimate. I know myself to be a personal and intimate being, and it seems not totally impossible that the powers which cast me with these qualities, which enables me to be both rational and poetic, may be the same as I, writ large." -- Frances E. West
Humanism is a based on reason and compassion - but that religious piece of humanism does not have to exclude God (or at least I take the liberty as a UU to say so).
And the question is so what? Why do I do this ministry? Now that I can catch my breath in week four, when I can think again about congregational work, community work, and chaplaincy, it becomes very clear that my moral authority as a minister is in not only becoming more authentically myself, but in journeying with others in their own journey of becoming. It's about right relation as a position of moral authority, and about radical hospitality. As a ministry, radical hospitality is breaking down that sin of disconnection that is the root of so much human pain and suffering. Ministry is about finding a theology that makes sense of that sin - not in the sense of predestination, or bargaining with some higher power, or even understanding it - but making sense of it and figuring out how to live our lives that we have the best we can.
One day, I dropped my son off at his Waldorf program and one of the church staff (where we meet) was being (in my mind) quite rude to a new mom who had parked in the wrong place. I was pretty ticked off about his behavior, and my son's teacher, Lynne, who is just a gentle saint of a woman, put her hand on my arm and gently said, "He's doing the best he can." In the moment, that answer didn't feel like enough, but now it does. Ministry is about helping people do the best they can, without judgment and with humility. And that includes me. Sometimes the best I can do doesn't feel like very much, but that's OK sometimes.
Another conversation that ended up being very true was when the student chaplain at Meadville Lombard told my triad group (my triad met weekly for course work, and met with the chaplain monthly) that seminary was in a lot of ways a way of breaking us down into small pieces so we could put them all back together again - theologically, emotionally, sometimes even physically, due to the intense need for self care.
When I was a child, I was Catholic, and I had transcendent experiences of God. I had faith in a supernatural Father, and I prayed to Him, and felt His presence in my life. At some point though, existential questions of suffering in my life, and perhaps even a biology of atheism, took away that personal relationship with a Christian God (and it was always a relationship with God, not with Jesus, or even Mary, which is perhaps why it was so natural to become a Unitarian Universalist).
I continued to have transcendental experiences in my life - moments of becoming, of growing, of mystical connection with other people, with nature, with something more - and those experiences are what keep me an agnostic, that make me a person who is aware of the unknown, and of possibility, while still subscribing to Occam's Razor. In a recent post about prayer, I explored some of my thoughts about prayer as a person of non-traditional faith, and I refound this quote that spoke to me. As a religious humanist, I am a cosmic theist, in that I believe in the transcendent immanence of God, which some might call panentheism. However, I have not felt that personal transcendent experience of God (and I realize that is a loaded word) very often as an adult.
I remember being about 10, during the Cold War, and thinking about how infinitely stupid adults were, as a I lay awake, fearful of bombs falling on my house or my school. And I remember an image of physically tucking that thought away into the back of my 10 year old mind, and telling myself that I would never forget to realize that adults were stupid. That we complicate things unnecessarily for ourselves, which results in all sorts of negative consequences in our lives, our social networks, our world. More on this later.
This morning, when I was meditating, I felt God (again, that loaded word, especially for me, as an agnostic) as a presence. I believe in connections, in something greater than the sum our our living, aware parts. And that not only showed up for me this morning but has been with me, as a presence, in the room, all day. It's kind of frightening actually - I mean, I actually thought, perhaps I am having a mental breakdown of some sort ;).But, I am a levelheaded kind of gal, and I am pretty sure I know how this actual feeling of presence has come back into my life.
For some time now, I have been wrestling with prayer, my love of Catholic tradition from my childhood, and with how to make my daily spiritual practice more meaningful, which I have, through ritualistic meditation each day. But it hasn't been until the last 4 weeks of chaplaincy that I have prayed, really prayed with people. And the part where being as a child (as Jesus himself would remind us) comes in, is that it doesn't have to be complicated. I don't have to get caught up in the words God, or Jesus, or Christ, or heaven, or sin. My role as a chaplain is to be present with people, to help them be, to serve with humility. It doesn't really matter what I believe in that moment - it matters that I can connect with that person, and that we create something through our relationship in that moment. If I can let go of my baggage about semantics (and as a writer and editor for many years, many that know me well will know that's a difficult task), and just be in the moment of wonder and (God) and creation, then that has the potential to become transcendent.
This prayer that I have been engaged in and wrestled with, and felt awkward in and powerful in - that has changed my spiritual practice. Again:
"When I pray, the humanist in me is patient but nonplussed, asking who I think I am talking to, and I reply that I don't know, but I do it anyway, my breath casting words into the seemingly unanswering air. Perhaps it is only my need to make the universe personal and intimate. I know myself to be a personal and intimate being, and it seems not totally impossible that the powers which cast me with these qualities, which enables me to be both rational and poetic, may be the same as I, writ large." -- Frances E. West
Humanism is a based on reason and compassion - but that religious piece of humanism does not have to exclude God (or at least I take the liberty as a UU to say so).
And the question is so what? Why do I do this ministry? Now that I can catch my breath in week four, when I can think again about congregational work, community work, and chaplaincy, it becomes very clear that my moral authority as a minister is in not only becoming more authentically myself, but in journeying with others in their own journey of becoming. It's about right relation as a position of moral authority, and about radical hospitality. As a ministry, radical hospitality is breaking down that sin of disconnection that is the root of so much human pain and suffering. Ministry is about finding a theology that makes sense of that sin - not in the sense of predestination, or bargaining with some higher power, or even understanding it - but making sense of it and figuring out how to live our lives that we have the best we can.
One day, I dropped my son off at his Waldorf program and one of the church staff (where we meet) was being (in my mind) quite rude to a new mom who had parked in the wrong place. I was pretty ticked off about his behavior, and my son's teacher, Lynne, who is just a gentle saint of a woman, put her hand on my arm and gently said, "He's doing the best he can." In the moment, that answer didn't feel like enough, but now it does. Ministry is about helping people do the best they can, without judgment and with humility. And that includes me. Sometimes the best I can do doesn't feel like very much, but that's OK sometimes.
Wednesday, January 13, 2010
Seething humanism
Really, after 3 days of immersion in the world of UU humanism, amongst thoughtful, passionate, and inspirational discussion about the issues of theism/non-theism, humanism, God-language and more, I wish that I had enough brain power left to write a stunning piece of cohesive brilliance on the topic, but my mind is aswirl with ideas, papers to write, challenge, and gratitude.
I will say that the opportunity to be in class with minds who are not afraid to challenge the status quo has me all fired up (again, as usual) about diversity in race, class, and belief in our denomination. I also have come to perhaps a bit more of an understanding about why people call UUism a movement rather than religion, but I still disagree. However, the word movement does imply progress over time, and humanism is an evolutionary (in more than one sense of the word) additive to our faith tradition.
One thing that did cause me to spout out some passionate verbiage today was the reminder from Rev. Jen Crow's sermon( that I will link to as soon as she reminds me which sermon it WAS, that was probably inspired somewhat by the work of Dr. Sharon Welch), on lowering our expectations. Although I can see the interconnectedness of systems of oppression, I cannot begin to fix them all. And since I am passionate about all kinds of diversity, I am interested in part of my ministry being ways of discovering challenges, solutions and sitting down at the table to problem-solve.
My lack of experience in diversity work (I have lots of theory; not so much hands-on work) is an opportunity for me to be an ally in the great work that is already being done, and I am anxious to go home and start figuring out how to begin building those bridges now. It's like everything in life, you can do it all, but you can't do it all at once.
I will say that the opportunity to be in class with minds who are not afraid to challenge the status quo has me all fired up (again, as usual) about diversity in race, class, and belief in our denomination. I also have come to perhaps a bit more of an understanding about why people call UUism a movement rather than religion, but I still disagree. However, the word movement does imply progress over time, and humanism is an evolutionary (in more than one sense of the word) additive to our faith tradition.
One thing that did cause me to spout out some passionate verbiage today was the reminder from Rev. Jen Crow's sermon( that I will link to as soon as she reminds me which sermon it WAS, that was probably inspired somewhat by the work of Dr. Sharon Welch), on lowering our expectations. Although I can see the interconnectedness of systems of oppression, I cannot begin to fix them all. And since I am passionate about all kinds of diversity, I am interested in part of my ministry being ways of discovering challenges, solutions and sitting down at the table to problem-solve.
My lack of experience in diversity work (I have lots of theory; not so much hands-on work) is an opportunity for me to be an ally in the great work that is already being done, and I am anxious to go home and start figuring out how to begin building those bridges now. It's like everything in life, you can do it all, but you can't do it all at once.
Saturday, January 2, 2010
Doing enough?
I was driving my daughter somewhere yesterday, and I saw a car coming toward me, driving erratically. It was starting and braking suddenly, swerving to the side, and as I got closer, I saw a woman walking on the side of the road. The man driving the car was trying to stop her with the car. As I pulled up parallel, I stopped and asked her if I could help her, if she needed a ride.
She was clearly embarrassed, and in denial, and kept telling me, "No, he's OK," which was not true. He was not OK, and neither was she. She continued walking, and he got out of the car and grabbed her roughly. I shouted at him, "take your hands off her RIGHT NOW, or I am calling 911!" I was already dialing and trying to remember his license plate. Cars were piling up a bit behind him and I, even on a rural country road. I got part of the plate #, and felt that I had to move my car, so I drove up the road a bit, reporting the incident as I went, and turned around to come back so that I could give better directions to the police, and get the full license plate. He meanwhile let go of her and got back in his car.
They were gone. All the cars were gone. I looked down driveways, down side streets...nothing. Upset, I went on to my destination, and a trooper called me. She couldn't find them either, but assured me that someone else would call. I was very shaken. I remembered the feeling of being trapped by someone stronger than me - horrible when a child, worse as an adult woman, of having no way to call for help, of feeling helpless and terrified, embarrassed at the stupidity of it all. Of shaky voice, trembling hands, adrenalin pumping to flee, but shaking legs and tears of impotent rage and fear making it impossible.
When I got to my destination, one of the people who has caused that feeling in me was there. I couldn't look them in the eye. I thought I might throw up. I had no idea that my body memory would be so intense.Thought I had forgiven, and moved on. That I was healed. Something hidden, something brought to light, to come to terms with, to understand and encompass, so I can help others without falling apart internally myself. I worked in a battered woman's shelter both before and after being hurt myself, but the training doesn't stop the fear.
I went back and drove around, trying to find the car for awhile. No luck. I wish I had been smarter - pulled over, pulled my car into the middle of the road, gotten the full license. Asked for the other drivers to help too. I pray that she is OK. That she gets help. That he gets help.
I could have done more, but I was so confused in the moment and had my daughter with me - I was afraid he could be violent towards us. I hope that the police found them. They were still looking when I went back - I saw the trooper that I had spoken to on the phone.
I should have done more, but am grateful I was able to do something. Next time, I'll be better prepared. At least my daughter saw me stop someone from getting hurt. From confronting abuse and intimidation, and call the police. She saw me and she'll remember.
She was clearly embarrassed, and in denial, and kept telling me, "No, he's OK," which was not true. He was not OK, and neither was she. She continued walking, and he got out of the car and grabbed her roughly. I shouted at him, "take your hands off her RIGHT NOW, or I am calling 911!" I was already dialing and trying to remember his license plate. Cars were piling up a bit behind him and I, even on a rural country road. I got part of the plate #, and felt that I had to move my car, so I drove up the road a bit, reporting the incident as I went, and turned around to come back so that I could give better directions to the police, and get the full license plate. He meanwhile let go of her and got back in his car.
They were gone. All the cars were gone. I looked down driveways, down side streets...nothing. Upset, I went on to my destination, and a trooper called me. She couldn't find them either, but assured me that someone else would call. I was very shaken. I remembered the feeling of being trapped by someone stronger than me - horrible when a child, worse as an adult woman, of having no way to call for help, of feeling helpless and terrified, embarrassed at the stupidity of it all. Of shaky voice, trembling hands, adrenalin pumping to flee, but shaking legs and tears of impotent rage and fear making it impossible.
When I got to my destination, one of the people who has caused that feeling in me was there. I couldn't look them in the eye. I thought I might throw up. I had no idea that my body memory would be so intense.Thought I had forgiven, and moved on. That I was healed. Something hidden, something brought to light, to come to terms with, to understand and encompass, so I can help others without falling apart internally myself. I worked in a battered woman's shelter both before and after being hurt myself, but the training doesn't stop the fear.
I went back and drove around, trying to find the car for awhile. No luck. I wish I had been smarter - pulled over, pulled my car into the middle of the road, gotten the full license. Asked for the other drivers to help too. I pray that she is OK. That she gets help. That he gets help.
I could have done more, but I was so confused in the moment and had my daughter with me - I was afraid he could be violent towards us. I hope that the police found them. They were still looking when I went back - I saw the trooper that I had spoken to on the phone.
I should have done more, but am grateful I was able to do something. Next time, I'll be better prepared. At least my daughter saw me stop someone from getting hurt. From confronting abuse and intimidation, and call the police. She saw me and she'll remember.
Monday, November 23, 2009
uuworld.org : ten-year-old refuses to stand for pledge of allegiance
uuworld.org : ten-year-old refuses to stand for pledge of allegiance
Emma's (my 13 yo daughter) been refusing to say the Pledge since she was 5. Looks like she has some company!
Posted using ShareThis
Emma's (my 13 yo daughter) been refusing to say the Pledge since she was 5. Looks like she has some company!
Posted using ShareThis
Saturday, November 14, 2009
Getting Old
OK, I know I'm not old. Every year I get older, there's some old fart telling me how young I still am ;).
But I started out as a sassy teenager in a runaway shelter for months, was a bratty street smart kid, got my shit together, grew up, managed a transitional living program for teens, had my own kids, blah, blah, blah.
Now through my ministry work I'm back in a teen shelter. I love it. Adore it. But I come home and cry sometimes. That didn't used to happen. Sure, there were kids that I was especially attached to, but I love all these kids. And they are different than the ones I am used to.
For the young teen tonight who ended up leaving, who kept telling me "Not even my mom cares." (and of course neither must you, because if my own mother doesn't care, how could you? is implied) I cried tonight. And I am angry at the police office who wouldn't take a missing person's report because, well...he didn't really have a good reason, except that he was young and white and privileged and in a position of power...and this kid is young and black and poor and has nothing. So what's one more kid on the street on a cold November night?
I didn't used to cry. But I came home and looked at my own beautiful 13 year old daughter and thought, for the grace of God...
These kids are my kids. I don't care who their mama is. And they are breaking my heart.
But I started out as a sassy teenager in a runaway shelter for months, was a bratty street smart kid, got my shit together, grew up, managed a transitional living program for teens, had my own kids, blah, blah, blah.
Now through my ministry work I'm back in a teen shelter. I love it. Adore it. But I come home and cry sometimes. That didn't used to happen. Sure, there were kids that I was especially attached to, but I love all these kids. And they are different than the ones I am used to.
For the young teen tonight who ended up leaving, who kept telling me "Not even my mom cares." (and of course neither must you, because if my own mother doesn't care, how could you? is implied) I cried tonight. And I am angry at the police office who wouldn't take a missing person's report because, well...he didn't really have a good reason, except that he was young and white and privileged and in a position of power...and this kid is young and black and poor and has nothing. So what's one more kid on the street on a cold November night?
I didn't used to cry. But I came home and looked at my own beautiful 13 year old daughter and thought, for the grace of God...
These kids are my kids. I don't care who their mama is. And they are breaking my heart.
Monday, October 12, 2009
Ministerial Formation
Mondays are always a challenge, and seem to be more so now that I work on Saturdays and Sundays. Plus I'm doing this gymnastics booster club volunteer thing that I *swore* last year I wouldn't do again...but it's been easier this year! Thank the heavens for email.
Today has been surprisingly productive though. The girls got up on time, did their chores and we got to spend a whole hour on Spanish vocab and conversation today. It was SO fun! What was ironic was that we were learning "classroom" words - chalk, chalkboard, flag, desk, etc. As we sat in front of the woodstove and snuggled and did flashcards ;).
Even Jude and Lucy learned the alphabet in Spanish! Fun times, peeps.
I am very much looking forward to reading week at school. Excel spreadsheet or no, I am having a hard time carving out enough reading time. My husband is now resentful of both spiritual practice time AND reading time. Wheee! My pastoral care class starts this week too, so I expect the reading to practically double, because it's a condensed, half-semester, full credit class. Sleep is totally overrated, I know. But complaining aside (was I complaining?), I *love* all the readings I'm doing, even the Old Testament, which is finally becoming an accessible narrative to me personally, and helping me to put a lot of cultural/religious things in perspective.
My site work at the Center for Youth is awesome, people. I adore my site supervisor. She has a good sense of humor, and is excellent about putting up with all my questions. I imagine there will be new kids there next week, so new opportunities and challenges and stories to learn about. I really need to start looking at my learning contract and figuring it out. It's challenging to think about what I need to learn here as part of formation, because I did this work professionally. I am trying to think of different angles, and how to best serve there, while at the same time, allowing them to use my skills and resources that I come there with.
Every day, I find new pieces of ministerial formation that I am facing - spiritual, family, academic, sociological, relational, community, political. It's awe-inspiring how this program is forcing us to face all of life and transform into someone totally different (again). I also am amazed at how thoughtful the program is at different levels in engaging me to face the big and little questions of life. I am really anxious to meet with my covenant group next week - I am having a hard time being geographically isolated from most of my classmates.
Today has been surprisingly productive though. The girls got up on time, did their chores and we got to spend a whole hour on Spanish vocab and conversation today. It was SO fun! What was ironic was that we were learning "classroom" words - chalk, chalkboard, flag, desk, etc. As we sat in front of the woodstove and snuggled and did flashcards ;).
Even Jude and Lucy learned the alphabet in Spanish! Fun times, peeps.
I am very much looking forward to reading week at school. Excel spreadsheet or no, I am having a hard time carving out enough reading time. My husband is now resentful of both spiritual practice time AND reading time. Wheee! My pastoral care class starts this week too, so I expect the reading to practically double, because it's a condensed, half-semester, full credit class. Sleep is totally overrated, I know. But complaining aside (was I complaining?), I *love* all the readings I'm doing, even the Old Testament, which is finally becoming an accessible narrative to me personally, and helping me to put a lot of cultural/religious things in perspective.
My site work at the Center for Youth is awesome, people. I adore my site supervisor. She has a good sense of humor, and is excellent about putting up with all my questions. I imagine there will be new kids there next week, so new opportunities and challenges and stories to learn about. I really need to start looking at my learning contract and figuring it out. It's challenging to think about what I need to learn here as part of formation, because I did this work professionally. I am trying to think of different angles, and how to best serve there, while at the same time, allowing them to use my skills and resources that I come there with.
Every day, I find new pieces of ministerial formation that I am facing - spiritual, family, academic, sociological, relational, community, political. It's awe-inspiring how this program is forcing us to face all of life and transform into someone totally different (again). I also am amazed at how thoughtful the program is at different levels in engaging me to face the big and little questions of life. I am really anxious to meet with my covenant group next week - I am having a hard time being geographically isolated from most of my classmates.
Friday, August 21, 2009
Authority ambivalence
One of the unsurprising things about my psychological testing is that I have a historical ambivalence towards authority. This makes perfect sense, since I was alternately protected and betrayed by police officers (both those that worked with my family during my teens, when I was in foster care, and my former step-father, a state trooper), and other people in authority (school, social service agencies, hospitals, etc.).
Today, I came up against that ambivalence when my husband discovered that someone had egged our cars overnight. Kids, on their last summer fling before school, I'm sure. Not a big deal.
But I was torn about whether to call the police and report it - our small town officers are wonderful. One is a neighbor. Our other neighbor is an officer in Rochester, but he is one of the most anti-social people I know, and I don't really trust him as a person, let alone a police officer. Still, there are benefits to having the law living in your neighborhood. I ended up calling because I thought we might not be the only victims, and wanted the local police to have as much info as possible. The officer was sweet, and I'm glad I called, but it was interesting to think through my hesitation given the clarification I achieved this week about parts of my upbringing, my current "m.o." about my values, and the direction my personal growth is headed in.
I think that having some ambivalence can be a good thing, as long as I'm aware of it, and make informed decisions based on that self-knowledge. And the good news is that it's raining, so I don't even have to take the car to the carwash!
Today, I came up against that ambivalence when my husband discovered that someone had egged our cars overnight. Kids, on their last summer fling before school, I'm sure. Not a big deal.
But I was torn about whether to call the police and report it - our small town officers are wonderful. One is a neighbor. Our other neighbor is an officer in Rochester, but he is one of the most anti-social people I know, and I don't really trust him as a person, let alone a police officer. Still, there are benefits to having the law living in your neighborhood. I ended up calling because I thought we might not be the only victims, and wanted the local police to have as much info as possible. The officer was sweet, and I'm glad I called, but it was interesting to think through my hesitation given the clarification I achieved this week about parts of my upbringing, my current "m.o." about my values, and the direction my personal growth is headed in.
I think that having some ambivalence can be a good thing, as long as I'm aware of it, and make informed decisions based on that self-knowledge. And the good news is that it's raining, so I don't even have to take the car to the carwash!
Monday, August 3, 2009
Soulful Radical Hospitality
I read two blog posts tonight that really spoke to what I currently feel defines my emerging ministerial formation.
One is from UU A Way of Life and the other is from Ministrare. One church (not necessarily UU) member says, according to David Marhkam, that "If this church has a soul, I don't see it or feel it."
When I first found UUism, I was in rejection. Not necessarily even of my childhood Catholic faith, although I am happy to reflect and laugh about my cultural hangover from those days, but of religion in general. As I've grown spiritually, and been lucky enough to be a member of a dynamic, growing church, with fabulous ministers who are creative, atheist, and also soulful, I have moved into journey of discovery. Not rejection, but embracing the soul, the mystery, and the power of our faith. That is something that as a minister, I want to bring to others. I am even evangelical in what is hopefully a respectful way about that faith. I have rediscovered God. I have rediscovered prayer. And in ways that make sense for me and others, I have been able to define my faith in our Judeo-Christian culture.
Secondly, they say that every minister has their hot button. For Forrest Church, it's death and dying. For me, it's radical hospitality. Today I sat in a (not church) board meeting where someone suggested that we not bother following up with someone who came to visit our organization, because it was really their responsibility to decide if we were right for them and make the moves. I mean, yeah, in the end, but if they have no idea that we care about them being there, or finding out more about them and if they are a good fit, or asking if they have questions...why would they bother? It's the same for church, and for life!
Radical hospitality has become a prophetic issue for me. I cannot live my life without being hospitable to those around me. And it's something I love about my church. We may not do it perfect, but we do it pretty well. And it's one reason we're growing. And we don't DO hospitality for growth. We do it because it's the right thing to do. It makes sense. It's kind, compassionate, welcoming, loving. Ministrare's list of why people don't come back after visiting is clearly because there is a lack of hospitality. That is a crime.
If and when I ever become a minister and find a position in a parish, my ideal is to offer soul and hospitality. There are lots of details underneath all of that, but to me, that is the heart of what UUism has to offer. It's a UU Way of Life, as the title of David Markham's blog suggests. And if people get soul and welcome, I have to believe they will find a home with us.
One is from UU A Way of Life and the other is from Ministrare. One church (not necessarily UU) member says, according to David Marhkam, that "If this church has a soul, I don't see it or feel it."
When I first found UUism, I was in rejection. Not necessarily even of my childhood Catholic faith, although I am happy to reflect and laugh about my cultural hangover from those days, but of religion in general. As I've grown spiritually, and been lucky enough to be a member of a dynamic, growing church, with fabulous ministers who are creative, atheist, and also soulful, I have moved into journey of discovery. Not rejection, but embracing the soul, the mystery, and the power of our faith. That is something that as a minister, I want to bring to others. I am even evangelical in what is hopefully a respectful way about that faith. I have rediscovered God. I have rediscovered prayer. And in ways that make sense for me and others, I have been able to define my faith in our Judeo-Christian culture.
Secondly, they say that every minister has their hot button. For Forrest Church, it's death and dying. For me, it's radical hospitality. Today I sat in a (not church) board meeting where someone suggested that we not bother following up with someone who came to visit our organization, because it was really their responsibility to decide if we were right for them and make the moves. I mean, yeah, in the end, but if they have no idea that we care about them being there, or finding out more about them and if they are a good fit, or asking if they have questions...why would they bother? It's the same for church, and for life!
Radical hospitality has become a prophetic issue for me. I cannot live my life without being hospitable to those around me. And it's something I love about my church. We may not do it perfect, but we do it pretty well. And it's one reason we're growing. And we don't DO hospitality for growth. We do it because it's the right thing to do. It makes sense. It's kind, compassionate, welcoming, loving. Ministrare's list of why people don't come back after visiting is clearly because there is a lack of hospitality. That is a crime.
If and when I ever become a minister and find a position in a parish, my ideal is to offer soul and hospitality. There are lots of details underneath all of that, but to me, that is the heart of what UUism has to offer. It's a UU Way of Life, as the title of David Markham's blog suggests. And if people get soul and welcome, I have to believe they will find a home with us.
Thursday, July 9, 2009
Living our values
ETA: Comments are now open.
I am frustrated. I have been on an email list for about 13 years, that's for parents who chose to stay home and parent with intention and connection with their children and families. Now that some of our children are into their teens, we are talking about re-entering the work force. (Caveat: even though many of us were stay at home moms, just as many of us have worked part- or full-time over the years, trying to balance work and family).
This conversation coincides with a visit with my mom and sister. And I'm frustrated about money and values and they are warring frustrations.
This is not a new argument. There is a faction of the email list who says you can't have it all - you can't work, or have a career and be a present and connected parent. But it seems to me that what they mean by "career" is lots of money. To me, it is all about choice. I have been parenting and working part time - with my kids at work with me, or from home, or while my spouse/partner was home with them - since the beginning of this parenting journey. So for me, it's a choice about what kind of work meshes with my values around family and parenting. These were intentional work choices that I made in order to prioritize parenting AND my career (which admittedly, was not a high-end corporate whatever, but was a stressful, busy, human services career).
This has meant that we are poor. As in, below the poverty level for a family of 6 (probably even for a family of 3 or 4). As in, never making the bills on time, never able to buy new stuff for myself, not able to replace the lawnmower, or put new tires on my car, and having a lot of credit card debt. I can't even use our credit cards anymore because they are maxed out and we're trying to pay the off. I don't have family support financially, and never have.
And these conversations on my email list, and the fact that my mother just put about 30 pairs of almost or brand new shoes in a bag for Goodwill is painful for me watch. One, because of course I would like to just be able to buy something w/o having to think about it, but two, because people just take that ability for granted. My sister was hanging my mom's very nice shirts and they were talking about how to care for their high-end clothes and how to hang them...and I'm thinking. Wow. I don't even own anything like that. All my shirts get folded (barely) and stuffed in a drawer. I have a few suits from my short time in corporate, but that's it. Our daily lives are worlds apart.
Choosing to be a full time (or mostly full time) parent is something that is not respected or recognized in our culture. Women (and men) who take themselves out of certain parts of the work force to parent for years, have a very difficult time re-entering their fields if they leave for several years. It is viewed as suspect. That time off is not valued for what it was - taking responsibility for children brought into this world - not turning them over to others to raise.
They say you can't have it all - and I guess that's true, depending on your definition of "all." I don't have any money, but I do have some work, and lots of family, and a strong marriage and wonderful friendships, and am fulfilled and doing work that meshes with my values. When I worked in corporate, it sucked out my soul, even though we had more money.
I don't know, I'm just thinking out loud about values and culture and the wild disconnect between how we are told we must live our lives to be "successful" and how often that living does not reflect the values that we actually hold. And how I can't buy my kids new shoes this week because I value raising them more than working full time in a job that I tolerate, just to be considered "successful."
I'm not trying to be judgmental - I just really don't get it. Sure, some people are fulfilled by jobs that I wouldn't do for all the tea in China, but at what cost to our culture and our families and our values? If we keep buying into this model of economics that doesn't honor families and parenting and values, it's just going to perpetuate itself. But things don't seem to have gotten more tolerant or flexible in the last 10 years - less so, since the dot.com bust in 2001. Telecommuting jobs are few and far between and part time jobs the same.
I'm frustrated. And this post will certainly piss off any number of people, and that's OK as it's a difficult, cultural, classist, racial issue.
I am frustrated. I have been on an email list for about 13 years, that's for parents who chose to stay home and parent with intention and connection with their children and families. Now that some of our children are into their teens, we are talking about re-entering the work force. (Caveat: even though many of us were stay at home moms, just as many of us have worked part- or full-time over the years, trying to balance work and family).
This conversation coincides with a visit with my mom and sister. And I'm frustrated about money and values and they are warring frustrations.
This is not a new argument. There is a faction of the email list who says you can't have it all - you can't work, or have a career and be a present and connected parent. But it seems to me that what they mean by "career" is lots of money. To me, it is all about choice. I have been parenting and working part time - with my kids at work with me, or from home, or while my spouse/partner was home with them - since the beginning of this parenting journey. So for me, it's a choice about what kind of work meshes with my values around family and parenting. These were intentional work choices that I made in order to prioritize parenting AND my career (which admittedly, was not a high-end corporate whatever, but was a stressful, busy, human services career).
This has meant that we are poor. As in, below the poverty level for a family of 6 (probably even for a family of 3 or 4). As in, never making the bills on time, never able to buy new stuff for myself, not able to replace the lawnmower, or put new tires on my car, and having a lot of credit card debt. I can't even use our credit cards anymore because they are maxed out and we're trying to pay the off. I don't have family support financially, and never have.
And these conversations on my email list, and the fact that my mother just put about 30 pairs of almost or brand new shoes in a bag for Goodwill is painful for me watch. One, because of course I would like to just be able to buy something w/o having to think about it, but two, because people just take that ability for granted. My sister was hanging my mom's very nice shirts and they were talking about how to care for their high-end clothes and how to hang them...and I'm thinking. Wow. I don't even own anything like that. All my shirts get folded (barely) and stuffed in a drawer. I have a few suits from my short time in corporate, but that's it. Our daily lives are worlds apart.
Choosing to be a full time (or mostly full time) parent is something that is not respected or recognized in our culture. Women (and men) who take themselves out of certain parts of the work force to parent for years, have a very difficult time re-entering their fields if they leave for several years. It is viewed as suspect. That time off is not valued for what it was - taking responsibility for children brought into this world - not turning them over to others to raise.
They say you can't have it all - and I guess that's true, depending on your definition of "all." I don't have any money, but I do have some work, and lots of family, and a strong marriage and wonderful friendships, and am fulfilled and doing work that meshes with my values. When I worked in corporate, it sucked out my soul, even though we had more money.
I don't know, I'm just thinking out loud about values and culture and the wild disconnect between how we are told we must live our lives to be "successful" and how often that living does not reflect the values that we actually hold. And how I can't buy my kids new shoes this week because I value raising them more than working full time in a job that I tolerate, just to be considered "successful."
I'm not trying to be judgmental - I just really don't get it. Sure, some people are fulfilled by jobs that I wouldn't do for all the tea in China, but at what cost to our culture and our families and our values? If we keep buying into this model of economics that doesn't honor families and parenting and values, it's just going to perpetuate itself. But things don't seem to have gotten more tolerant or flexible in the last 10 years - less so, since the dot.com bust in 2001. Telecommuting jobs are few and far between and part time jobs the same.
I'm frustrated. And this post will certainly piss off any number of people, and that's OK as it's a difficult, cultural, classist, racial issue.
Friday, June 26, 2009
Class in UU
YES! I so wish I could have been there for this. This is one my biggest hot buttons and one that affects my own family in ways that are hard to navigate.
It's much larger than racism, the cultural problems that are faith is trying to address. It's across the board - classism, racism, feminism, and on and on. And I agree that we have an image problem and set unattainable goals - but we shouldn't stop trying!
I have a sneaking suspicion that this is rooted in our need to focus more heavily on our Universalist roots of Radical Hospitality. No, our faith isn't for everyone, but avoiding alienation at the door might keep people coming back.
It's much larger than racism, the cultural problems that are faith is trying to address. It's across the board - classism, racism, feminism, and on and on. And I agree that we have an image problem and set unattainable goals - but we shouldn't stop trying!
I have a sneaking suspicion that this is rooted in our need to focus more heavily on our Universalist roots of Radical Hospitality. No, our faith isn't for everyone, but avoiding alienation at the door might keep people coming back.
Tuesday, June 23, 2009
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
California Supreme Court Upholds Ban on Same-Sex Marriage - NYTimes.com
California Supreme Court Upholds Ban on Same-Sex Marriage - NYTimes.com
This is so very depressing on many levels. I guess the upside is that civil unions are still permitted, but how can we continue to be so backwards?
Posted using ShareThis
This is so very depressing on many levels. I guess the upside is that civil unions are still permitted, but how can we continue to be so backwards?
Posted using ShareThis
Monday, May 18, 2009
Stem Cell Research
Neil Gaiman's Journal: The #StemCellResearch Post and Her Majesty's Armoured Novelists
If you're not a Neil Gaiman fan (and if you're not, you should be), just read the first part of this post, and then go share your opinion.
I think this is an important topic.
Posted using ShareThis
If you're not a Neil Gaiman fan (and if you're not, you should be), just read the first part of this post, and then go share your opinion.
I think this is an important topic.
Posted using ShareThis
Friday, April 17, 2009
Redeeming
I have not been thrilled with NY Gov. Patterson since he stepped into office, but today he redeemed himself at least a little!
Boy, was I pissed off at the quote that no faith support gay marriage! I wasn't very impressed with this church to begin with; now my feelings are further corroborated.
Boy, was I pissed off at the quote that no faith support gay marriage! I wasn't very impressed with this church to begin with; now my feelings are further corroborated.
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
At sea
I am having yet another shift in perception, approach, intention. The way my minister put it in a phone conversation this week as experiencing parallel processes. Man, this is one of those weeks where I want to go back to life before feeling called to the ministry; where I want to put my fingers in my ears and say, "lalalala, I can't hear you!"
And yet, as LE puts it so eloquently today:
I am overwhelmed with gratitude. And that is a cross I'm willing to bear. Total strangers, demonstrating love. I am surrounded by teachers. And so I may not have answers to all the rest of my questions, and my feelings of guilt, and my guilt at feeling guilt, because it's not about me, and all the swirling inside as my brain tries to process too much information. But I can commit myself to learning. I can commit myself to learning how to love with big open arms. Limitless undying love. And I can commit myself to being the one to give the love, when it's my turn.
I am feeling part of, yet separate from things; a participant, yet an observer of life, and it's disconcerting and exhausting and I feel like crying today (well, impending PMS probably doesn't help, but still).
At church, I sit through the sermons and experience them and learn from them; yet I also am taking mental note of things that work well, that I enjoy, that people mention moved them.
I sit in small group, and am grateful for the skillful facilitation and expansion of my soul; yet I am observing, learning how to be a better listener, to be a better facilitator; I take mental notes for future reference.
I am having serious angst over a close relationship right now; as I follow my path, becoming more aware of my inability to know intention other than my own, becoming a more intentional listener, growing in my ability to open my arms and love; I find myself torn between screaming frustration and judgment at my friend's interruptions, attempts to pick apart the intention of everyone in every interaction, ego, and hurtful things they say AND my higher self's observation of the love they have within them, the respect for their own journey and where they've been and what experiences have formed who they are, and overwhelming love and gratitude for the closeness we've had but that seems to be slipping away as I walk a different line in my spirituality, my parenting, my intention toward the greater world.
I am humbled and pained by my struggle to avoid judgment and by how being transformed makes everything both clearer and murkier.
I am filled with joy and gratitude; and loss and sorrow of my more (innocent?) ignorant and egotistical self!
I am filled with anger and forgiveness; I am filled with humility and ego; I am in the moment and observing it at the same time; I am filled with judgement and love; I am struggling with boundaries and inclusion; all of this taking up the same head and heart space.
Yeah, some days I just want to pull the blankets back over my head. It's hard work.
And yet, as LE puts it so eloquently today:
I am overwhelmed with gratitude. And that is a cross I'm willing to bear. Total strangers, demonstrating love. I am surrounded by teachers. And so I may not have answers to all the rest of my questions, and my feelings of guilt, and my guilt at feeling guilt, because it's not about me, and all the swirling inside as my brain tries to process too much information. But I can commit myself to learning. I can commit myself to learning how to love with big open arms. Limitless undying love. And I can commit myself to being the one to give the love, when it's my turn.
I am feeling part of, yet separate from things; a participant, yet an observer of life, and it's disconcerting and exhausting and I feel like crying today (well, impending PMS probably doesn't help, but still).
At church, I sit through the sermons and experience them and learn from them; yet I also am taking mental note of things that work well, that I enjoy, that people mention moved them.
I sit in small group, and am grateful for the skillful facilitation and expansion of my soul; yet I am observing, learning how to be a better listener, to be a better facilitator; I take mental notes for future reference.
I am having serious angst over a close relationship right now; as I follow my path, becoming more aware of my inability to know intention other than my own, becoming a more intentional listener, growing in my ability to open my arms and love; I find myself torn between screaming frustration and judgment at my friend's interruptions, attempts to pick apart the intention of everyone in every interaction, ego, and hurtful things they say AND my higher self's observation of the love they have within them, the respect for their own journey and where they've been and what experiences have formed who they are, and overwhelming love and gratitude for the closeness we've had but that seems to be slipping away as I walk a different line in my spirituality, my parenting, my intention toward the greater world.
I am humbled and pained by my struggle to avoid judgment and by how being transformed makes everything both clearer and murkier.
I am filled with joy and gratitude; and loss and sorrow of my more (innocent?) ignorant and egotistical self!
I am filled with anger and forgiveness; I am filled with humility and ego; I am in the moment and observing it at the same time; I am filled with judgement and love; I am struggling with boundaries and inclusion; all of this taking up the same head and heart space.
Yeah, some days I just want to pull the blankets back over my head. It's hard work.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Just like Jo March
...my mind is rumpled today. I had an argument (a Real Live (tm) Argument) with one of my best friends today, and walked away feeling like I am a Rotten Parent (tm) for daring to make choices that don't put my teenager's social needs first on my list of priorities. And not to mention that I'm blaming everyone else for my daughter's feelings and I should take full responsibility for them and go even further beyond the call of duty to make her social life perfect.
That's probably not exactly what she said, but mind, that's how I said I felt at the end of the conversation. Looking back on it honestly, she had some good feedback mixed in there, but (Karen, are you listening?), about 30 minutes into the conversation, in which I kept getting more and more frustrated because she wasn't getting what I was saying at all, for a variety of reason, I yelled, "I don't want to hear your solutions! I don't want to hear your scenarios! What I need from you as a friend is for you listen to my pain and to the fact that my kid is hurting and to just validate that!"
And then she didn't. She said some other things that really hurt my feelings even more and were totally off target IMO, and I hugged her and said I loved her, and we moved on. Man, I'm sorry for ever doing that to my own friends. It sucks. As I get better at really listening, it is really hard when I'm not listened to. Understandable, but harder.
This all has to do with inclusion, this argument. We move in a small homeschooling community, with small circles that often intersect and shift and move, and my daughter is in between circles right now, because there has been a shift from all-age activities that are family-inclusive, to "teen" activities with age cut-offs (that are a year older than she is) and she feeling intentionally excluded and is hurt. There are a bunch of reasons I can think of (that are all UNintentional) why this is happening, but it doesn't matter. It hurts.
And I'm in a place with big kids and little kids, where I stretch myself and my littles very thin at times in order to make sure my olders get to have fun and participate in enriching activities. I feel like my friend told me that I wasn't stretching enough and it hit every button for me in terms of how mothers of young children are not well supported. It also felt like she felt like we were being excluded because we choose to live 45 minutes away in order to be away from the city and work toward more sustainable living (the only other place we could afford to buy a house is IN the city, an environment that sucked the soul out of me).
It's like she was holding on to resentments about some of my choices about parenting, homeschooling, inclusion and lifestyle, and dumped them all on me in one fell swoop.
So my mind is rumpled. And my daughter is still hurting. I'm sad and don't understand why this shift has happened in the kids' friendships. What I really don't understand is that it seems to be spearheaded by the parents, not by the kids, who seem to be just fine with including everyone for most things. Everyone always raves about how likable, fun, sweet and polite my daughter is - so why can't the adults involved see how their hangups about ageism are hurting her (and others)?
At least E doesn't seem to think I'm the culprit ;). She loves where we live - and she loves her friends. She loves visiting - and she would love to have more visitors. She loves her siblings - and she loves some big kid time. She loves kids of all ages - and she loves adults of all ages. She is as stymied as I am.
Anyway, enough. I'm just trying to find some order in all these questions, but I think I'll just have to wait and think, and plan more one one one get togethers rather than the group events we usually attend (for family unity and sanity sake). I can't wait till summer. We're going to hunker down and garden and swim and read and be together. So there.
And I'm going to work really hard at being a better listener, and to forgive my friend for not getting me, and to try to understand her intentions, and to just try to be more inclusive myself and maybe it will be a fad that will catch on!
That's probably not exactly what she said, but mind, that's how I said I felt at the end of the conversation. Looking back on it honestly, she had some good feedback mixed in there, but (Karen, are you listening?), about 30 minutes into the conversation, in which I kept getting more and more frustrated because she wasn't getting what I was saying at all, for a variety of reason, I yelled, "I don't want to hear your solutions! I don't want to hear your scenarios! What I need from you as a friend is for you listen to my pain and to the fact that my kid is hurting and to just validate that!"
And then she didn't. She said some other things that really hurt my feelings even more and were totally off target IMO, and I hugged her and said I loved her, and we moved on. Man, I'm sorry for ever doing that to my own friends. It sucks. As I get better at really listening, it is really hard when I'm not listened to. Understandable, but harder.
This all has to do with inclusion, this argument. We move in a small homeschooling community, with small circles that often intersect and shift and move, and my daughter is in between circles right now, because there has been a shift from all-age activities that are family-inclusive, to "teen" activities with age cut-offs (that are a year older than she is) and she feeling intentionally excluded and is hurt. There are a bunch of reasons I can think of (that are all UNintentional) why this is happening, but it doesn't matter. It hurts.
And I'm in a place with big kids and little kids, where I stretch myself and my littles very thin at times in order to make sure my olders get to have fun and participate in enriching activities. I feel like my friend told me that I wasn't stretching enough and it hit every button for me in terms of how mothers of young children are not well supported. It also felt like she felt like we were being excluded because we choose to live 45 minutes away in order to be away from the city and work toward more sustainable living (the only other place we could afford to buy a house is IN the city, an environment that sucked the soul out of me).
It's like she was holding on to resentments about some of my choices about parenting, homeschooling, inclusion and lifestyle, and dumped them all on me in one fell swoop.
So my mind is rumpled. And my daughter is still hurting. I'm sad and don't understand why this shift has happened in the kids' friendships. What I really don't understand is that it seems to be spearheaded by the parents, not by the kids, who seem to be just fine with including everyone for most things. Everyone always raves about how likable, fun, sweet and polite my daughter is - so why can't the adults involved see how their hangups about ageism are hurting her (and others)?
At least E doesn't seem to think I'm the culprit ;). She loves where we live - and she loves her friends. She loves visiting - and she would love to have more visitors. She loves her siblings - and she loves some big kid time. She loves kids of all ages - and she loves adults of all ages. She is as stymied as I am.
Anyway, enough. I'm just trying to find some order in all these questions, but I think I'll just have to wait and think, and plan more one one one get togethers rather than the group events we usually attend (for family unity and sanity sake). I can't wait till summer. We're going to hunker down and garden and swim and read and be together. So there.
And I'm going to work really hard at being a better listener, and to forgive my friend for not getting me, and to try to understand her intentions, and to just try to be more inclusive myself and maybe it will be a fad that will catch on!
Friday, March 20, 2009
Forgiveness
I've been thinking about forgiveness a lot lately because it's what we're talking about at Wellspring next week. I've always thought a lot about it though, because I had a childhood memorable for many rotten things, and I spent a lot of years angry.
I think that forgiveness has always been a rather undefinable word for me - I've never been quite sure what it means to me, but as I did one of the assigned readings (which I had a lot of issues with, by the way), it occurred to me that it's really a mindset. Forgiveness has a lot to do with:
1. Assumption. If we assume we know someone else's intention, we're already setting ourselves up for a future problem. Even if someone is horrible to us, we don't have any idea what in their history has led them to make the choices they are making in their relationship to us. That doesn't negate their responsibility for making those choices, but it does give one pause for thought about compassion and the idea that we can only really know such a small part of any story - our part of it.
2. The way that we self-identify as part of our moment by moment stories has a huge part to play in how, or whether we "forgive" someone. Let me pause for a moment to say that I think that for me, forgiveness is really about letting go, moving on - it doesn't have to absolve anyone of guilt, it doesn't require the other person to apologie - it's all about how we identify ourselves in the story. If we're a victim, if we're angry, if we are hurt - those are all valid reactions in the moment of a story, but we don't have to hold on to those roles forever. We can move past who we were in that moment, and refuse to identify ourselves in ways that continue to hurt us.
Outside of thinking about forgiveness in the context of Wellspring, I've been struck by the stories about AIG employees who are the focus of a lot of (justifiable, in some cases) anger.
It frightens me to think that these people need security to protect themselves against potential death threats. They are being targeted by neighbors and strangers alike. Then again, I share Jay Leno's fear about the tax that Congress is imposing on those bonuses - does this mean that the government can just target someone and do something like that? It sounded to me like Obama didn't really approve, but he didn't make a strong statement one way or the other.
Remember, we only know what the media tells us about these people - that is even less than a little part of the story - and for those making death threats, they're not even in the AIG story.
A lot to think about.
I think that forgiveness has always been a rather undefinable word for me - I've never been quite sure what it means to me, but as I did one of the assigned readings (which I had a lot of issues with, by the way), it occurred to me that it's really a mindset. Forgiveness has a lot to do with:
1. Assumption. If we assume we know someone else's intention, we're already setting ourselves up for a future problem. Even if someone is horrible to us, we don't have any idea what in their history has led them to make the choices they are making in their relationship to us. That doesn't negate their responsibility for making those choices, but it does give one pause for thought about compassion and the idea that we can only really know such a small part of any story - our part of it.
2. The way that we self-identify as part of our moment by moment stories has a huge part to play in how, or whether we "forgive" someone. Let me pause for a moment to say that I think that for me, forgiveness is really about letting go, moving on - it doesn't have to absolve anyone of guilt, it doesn't require the other person to apologie - it's all about how we identify ourselves in the story. If we're a victim, if we're angry, if we are hurt - those are all valid reactions in the moment of a story, but we don't have to hold on to those roles forever. We can move past who we were in that moment, and refuse to identify ourselves in ways that continue to hurt us.
Outside of thinking about forgiveness in the context of Wellspring, I've been struck by the stories about AIG employees who are the focus of a lot of (justifiable, in some cases) anger.
It frightens me to think that these people need security to protect themselves against potential death threats. They are being targeted by neighbors and strangers alike. Then again, I share Jay Leno's fear about the tax that Congress is imposing on those bonuses - does this mean that the government can just target someone and do something like that? It sounded to me like Obama didn't really approve, but he didn't make a strong statement one way or the other.
Remember, we only know what the media tells us about these people - that is even less than a little part of the story - and for those making death threats, they're not even in the AIG story.
A lot to think about.
Monday, March 9, 2009
Being poor is draining my spiritual bank
Because my husband is self-employed, and my ex-husband works out of state, the kids (and my husband and I) have qualified for state-funded insurance for a number of years.
Even when I worked at Xerox as a contractor, the insurance was so expensive through the agency that Tom and I went without for over a year. Going through the process is a soul-sucking experience. In the last county we lived in, the social workers were in a very urban area, and were impossible to work with. I ended up working with the Commissioner's Office after I was unable to get my caseworker switched. She always had a full voicemail, the voicemail system said it would route you to an operator but didn't, and was an infinite loop of bullshit. When I did manage to get her on the phone, she was extraordinarily rude, demeaning and treated me like trash.
I was never actually able to get her supervisor on the phone, despite leaving many, many messages. The paperwork was confusing (seemingly on purpose), and I honestly don't know how people with literacy problems or lacking in education were able to navigate the system at all (maybe they don't).
When we moved to our new house, we were in a different county, and it was a night and day experience. The people at social services are nice, causing me to break down in cry (I used to cry out of frustration, not anymore).
This year we made so little that all the kids qualified for Medicaid. I had to go to a facilitated enrollment center to do the paperwork. Lori was nice enough, but not really personable. She didn't offer to shake my hand, didn't offer me a seat, and didn't introduce me to the woman she was training. She was polite, but it was clear that I was a just a number, just an appointment to get through. I'm well-organized, so these things go smoothly, but when they tell me that, it seems patronizing - they often make comments that put down the other people who come in, who aren't so organized.
On my drive home, I found myself wondering why people like Lori are doing the job they are in. There are certainly jobs that I've had that I haven't been passionate about, but I have a really strong work ethic, and always go beyond the call of duty (or move on, if it's that crappy of a job!). Any job or volunteer position that I've had where I was in human services, or working directly with people in a support role has been something I would not define as ministry. Not the religious kind, but work that I had a personal passion for and could focus on each individual person as just that - a real person, with real needs, a real story. They were never just a number to me. There were people that were difficult to work with, but often, that was why they were there -because they were lacking tools and resources to navigate our complicated world.
Our US culture is so very classist - it's hard to even admit to being poor. My church community really has no idea how close to the bone we live. And it's not for lack of trying or hard work. When I go to the social services office, it depletes my spirit. People are sad, and brisk and sometimes say hurtful things. There are people that are lazy or take advantage, but there are also a lot of people who just need help because of circumstances created by our culture.
I just have to wonder how people end up in these jobs if it's not for caring about helping those who are struggling. I can't imagine any other reason for doing it; it can't be an easy job to do.
This train of thought is connected to the conversation over at The Journey. (see comments there for more). I know that I have a hard time admitting that I'm no longer middle class. We have a good life. We have more than most of the world; but in this culture, in our country, we are barely making ends meet (and aren't, most months). Despite all that, I intend to go to seminary this fall, because I believe that my calling is part of the big picture. We will never be wealthy (unless we win the Lotto!) but we will be OK in the long run.
The downturning economy is going to make a lot of people look at their preconceptions about wealth and what they prioritize in their lives. I wonder if that will help the climate around classism change at all? Because I grew up in a college town, I have a lot of educational privilege that serves me well as a UU; my husband not so much. He's on a church strike right now and has been before, often because he feels that as a faith, we look like rich surburbanites "empowering" poor urban dwellers. The WAY we walk the walk is still hurtful in the same way that those burnt out social workers can be hurtful to the shy soul within.
I come back again to radical hospitality. Do we really make all seekers feel welcome? No. Are all seekers going to find what they want at a UU church? No. But just because they don't fit our normal expectations for "class" or politics, we shouldn't be making them feel unwelcome. We spend a lot of time watching our language in LGBT issues and race issues. We need to broaden that hospitality to class issues.
And a personal annoyance; our ushers, parking lot attendants, and greeters are all getting extraordinarily lazy about being hospitable. I haven't had one greeter or usher actually greet me in weeks unless I make a point of making eye contact and greeting them first. And many of them *know* me! How does this feel to the newcomer? It is to make me bang my head against the wall.
Even when I worked at Xerox as a contractor, the insurance was so expensive through the agency that Tom and I went without for over a year. Going through the process is a soul-sucking experience. In the last county we lived in, the social workers were in a very urban area, and were impossible to work with. I ended up working with the Commissioner's Office after I was unable to get my caseworker switched. She always had a full voicemail, the voicemail system said it would route you to an operator but didn't, and was an infinite loop of bullshit. When I did manage to get her on the phone, she was extraordinarily rude, demeaning and treated me like trash.
I was never actually able to get her supervisor on the phone, despite leaving many, many messages. The paperwork was confusing (seemingly on purpose), and I honestly don't know how people with literacy problems or lacking in education were able to navigate the system at all (maybe they don't).
When we moved to our new house, we were in a different county, and it was a night and day experience. The people at social services are nice, causing me to break down in cry (I used to cry out of frustration, not anymore).
This year we made so little that all the kids qualified for Medicaid. I had to go to a facilitated enrollment center to do the paperwork. Lori was nice enough, but not really personable. She didn't offer to shake my hand, didn't offer me a seat, and didn't introduce me to the woman she was training. She was polite, but it was clear that I was a just a number, just an appointment to get through. I'm well-organized, so these things go smoothly, but when they tell me that, it seems patronizing - they often make comments that put down the other people who come in, who aren't so organized.
On my drive home, I found myself wondering why people like Lori are doing the job they are in. There are certainly jobs that I've had that I haven't been passionate about, but I have a really strong work ethic, and always go beyond the call of duty (or move on, if it's that crappy of a job!). Any job or volunteer position that I've had where I was in human services, or working directly with people in a support role has been something I would not define as ministry. Not the religious kind, but work that I had a personal passion for and could focus on each individual person as just that - a real person, with real needs, a real story. They were never just a number to me. There were people that were difficult to work with, but often, that was why they were there -because they were lacking tools and resources to navigate our complicated world.
Our US culture is so very classist - it's hard to even admit to being poor. My church community really has no idea how close to the bone we live. And it's not for lack of trying or hard work. When I go to the social services office, it depletes my spirit. People are sad, and brisk and sometimes say hurtful things. There are people that are lazy or take advantage, but there are also a lot of people who just need help because of circumstances created by our culture.
I just have to wonder how people end up in these jobs if it's not for caring about helping those who are struggling. I can't imagine any other reason for doing it; it can't be an easy job to do.
This train of thought is connected to the conversation over at The Journey. (see comments there for more). I know that I have a hard time admitting that I'm no longer middle class. We have a good life. We have more than most of the world; but in this culture, in our country, we are barely making ends meet (and aren't, most months). Despite all that, I intend to go to seminary this fall, because I believe that my calling is part of the big picture. We will never be wealthy (unless we win the Lotto!) but we will be OK in the long run.
The downturning economy is going to make a lot of people look at their preconceptions about wealth and what they prioritize in their lives. I wonder if that will help the climate around classism change at all? Because I grew up in a college town, I have a lot of educational privilege that serves me well as a UU; my husband not so much. He's on a church strike right now and has been before, often because he feels that as a faith, we look like rich surburbanites "empowering" poor urban dwellers. The WAY we walk the walk is still hurtful in the same way that those burnt out social workers can be hurtful to the shy soul within.
I come back again to radical hospitality. Do we really make all seekers feel welcome? No. Are all seekers going to find what they want at a UU church? No. But just because they don't fit our normal expectations for "class" or politics, we shouldn't be making them feel unwelcome. We spend a lot of time watching our language in LGBT issues and race issues. We need to broaden that hospitality to class issues.
And a personal annoyance; our ushers, parking lot attendants, and greeters are all getting extraordinarily lazy about being hospitable. I haven't had one greeter or usher actually greet me in weeks unless I make a point of making eye contact and greeting them first. And many of them *know* me! How does this feel to the newcomer? It is to make me bang my head against the wall.
Wednesday, February 18, 2009
Moral dilemmas
I was doing some research and came across this recent article on Israel and Gaza.
It says much of what I have been feeling about the issue, and also about feeling tongue-tied about speaking up about this particular violence. How do religious leaders speak out about violence, even religious violence, and still respect the global religious plurality that is growing?
The author says:
The choice for progressive Christian leaders today is not between guilt-ridden silence and full-throated denunciation of Israeli policy and Israeli aggression. It is certainly not a choice between keeping silent and presuming to lecture Jews on Judaic ethics. Rather, the choice lies between the kind of craven irresponsibility that continued silence represents and a public moral stance that accords well with Obamian aspiration: What kind of country do we want to be?
I think we need to broaden this question beyond our national borders and this particular issue. What kind of humans do we want to be? Supporting through silence, violence of any kind, is a kind of action in and of itself, is it not? Omission can be a sin.
It says much of what I have been feeling about the issue, and also about feeling tongue-tied about speaking up about this particular violence. How do religious leaders speak out about violence, even religious violence, and still respect the global religious plurality that is growing?
The author says:
The choice for progressive Christian leaders today is not between guilt-ridden silence and full-throated denunciation of Israeli policy and Israeli aggression. It is certainly not a choice between keeping silent and presuming to lecture Jews on Judaic ethics. Rather, the choice lies between the kind of craven irresponsibility that continued silence represents and a public moral stance that accords well with Obamian aspiration: What kind of country do we want to be?
I think we need to broaden this question beyond our national borders and this particular issue. What kind of humans do we want to be? Supporting through silence, violence of any kind, is a kind of action in and of itself, is it not? Omission can be a sin.
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