Remember the Holy ‘Yeses’

Let us celebrate those who are our ‘firsts’.

I posted about the sculpture of Shirley Chisholm
to be  placed in Brooklyn by the state of New York.
The first African-American woman in congress.
The first African-American woman to run for President.
I remember those days and the times.
I remember the joy and the power that surged through me
singing a holy “Yes!”

So I posted today about the sculpture
and a facebook friend said, “Finally.”
That ‘finally’ tasted like bitterness
and judgment
and dismissal.
Those things I understand. I truly do.

But perhaps ‘Yes’ serves us better.
How much more important is it for us to remember
the Yes of her life
the Yes of her witness
the Yes of a first to break barriers and
move the arc closer to justice
than it had ever been.

Even Moses, who led the Israelites out of Egypt,
never made it to the promised land.
He only glimpsed it.
His ‘Yes’ was passing through the waters
HIs “Yes” was making a way out of no way
HIs ‘Yes” was trusting Godde’s dream of the future.
His view from the mountain top
does not diminish his ‘Yes’
It invites us to our ‘Yeses’

Today I am grateful for Shirley Chisholm and all her ‘Yeses’
How amazing that the State of New York
recognizes her life and witness.
Today I am going to be glad for all her ‘Yeses’
and grateful that the state celebrates the holy Yes of her life.

Should we focus on Moses’ inability to reach the promised land?
Or Shirley not becoming president?
Let us never diminish the ‘Yes’ of any life.
The Yes of persisting
the Yes that challenges the injustice of every no
the Yes of dreaming justice into existence
the Yes that invites all the ‘Yeses’
of  those who are to come.

 

Comfort in Uncomfortable Times

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

If you awoke to a clench in your gut
a shiver in your chest
an ache in your heart
trust me, those feelings belong there.
Every day the assault on our ideals continues.
We question who we are
grieve who we have been
and anguish over
who we are becoming.

The day of Trump is upon us
because we, as a  people,
have been willfully ignorant
unconsciously arrogant
and unable to concede our complicity.
The consequences are upon us.

But let me speak tenderly to you this day:
This wilderness
this political wasteland
will come to an end.

We will not be purified
but we will be released
to try again
to begin again
to make the circuitous
ongoing
journey toward freedom.

Let today be the day of our dreaming
and let our dreams
be our guideposts
Make way for hope,
make way for justice
make way for Godde
to come again

 

 

Isaiah 40:1, 3-5
Comfort, O comfort my people,

    says your Godde.

A voice cries out:
“In the wilderness prepare the way of the Lord,
 make straight in the desert a highway for our God.
Every valley shall be lifted up,
 and every mountain and hill be made low;
the uneven ground shall become level,
 and the rough places a plain.
Then the glory of Godde shall be revealed,
   and all people shall see it together,

Enough Time to Grieve

I am grateful to have lived long enough
to grieve organically.
To survive days with the gash in my heart
bleeding out,
agony insinuated into every conversation –
even when draped in a flat affect
and the pretense of normality.

I am grateful I have had time enough
to explore all the dark corners.
The patience to meander through loss,
to pick up shattered pieces,
and reorder the reality
I feared I would not survive.

Godde requires my honesty,
insists I disrobe my soul,
and open to something
beyond my ability to imagine.
Godde companions me in the shadowlands.
Takes my hand when I am blinded by pain
or self involvement.
Invites me to new ways of seeing,
even when I refuse to open my eyes.

It is good to have lived long enough
to reach the unknown other side.
To discover Godde’s grace
tangled in my memories,
and the promise of Godde’s hope
reflected in my tears.

 

To Our Lawmakers: I’m Not Looking for Perfection

 

I am not looking for perfection from my leaders –
representatives,
senators,
judges –
you do not have to agree with me on every policy point.
You can play poker or golf with people I find reprehensible.
I don’t care.

You don’t have to be a person without flaws,
or who has never made a mistake.
You can be someone like me
who has sometimes made choices
you are ashamed of.
I don’t care.

What I care about is that you are a decent human being.
I care that you don’t judge others while hiding your own perversions.
I care that  you  pit  “we the people”
against one another for your personal gain or ideology.
That’s what I care about.

I want you to share a larger vision of who we can be.
I want you to stop cheating.
Stop gerrymandering
Stop suppressing voters
Stop impeding voting rights.

I want you to be outraged when the President
invites foreign adversaries to interfere
with our elections.

I want you to be decent enough to stand up
to a man who is destroying the fabric of our nation,
who invites division,
encourages hate,
despises diversity,
worships money.

I just want you to be decent.
To put the nation before your self interests.
To be someone your mom would be proud of.
To be a person  of integrity.
I don’t need you to be perfect.
But I really need you to just  be decent .

We all do.

de·​cent | \ ˈdē-sᵊnt \

Definition of decent

1: marked by moral integrity, kindness, and goodwill.    

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Tales from an Elephant Orphanage

 

Well, folks, I’ve begun working on the sequel to my memoir (A Gracious Heresy: the Queer Calling of an Unlikely Prophet).  The working title of the new project is Circling Grace: Tales from an Elephant Orphanage. It’s my telling of the story of Circle of Grace, a Christian, feminist, ecumenical, progressive church of which I am the founding pastor.

I am telling my part of the story though, as with all stories and especially a story about a group of people, mine is only a part. It is exciting to remember the early days, the challenges and discussions as we worked to birth this idea of a Christian feminist worshipping community. I hope, in the end, you will find the tale engaging, challenging, and, most of all, truthful.

The title comes form a conversation I once had with my spiritual director who said, “Connie, Circle of Grace is like an elephant orphanage. Wounded or sick or disabled baby elephants that have have been rejected or abandoned by their herd are taken in, healed, and taught how to be elephants.”

Check out this 60 Minutes story: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hErfU4gb1GQ

In somewhat the same way, people come to Circle of Grace because their spiritual communities have rejected them. They come in need of respite and healing, starved for spiritual food and the unconditional love. She continued, “Some are able to return to their herd  (the churches they were raised in) and some, whose wounding has been too severe, remain and form a new tribe.” Her insight helps me ponder the implications and pray for and with the community I pastor.

Today I am doing what pastors do: reflecting on the story  theologically.  Immersed in telling the challenges and reliving the excitement of our early days, I was able to distill it down to a sentence:  “Creating safe spiritual space must take an uncomfortable front seat to theological differences.”

I am excited to be telling my part of the story, even while I agonize over my many and varied inadequacies. I am reminded again how important it Is that we tell our stories. Something important happens when we examine our pasts. We discover more deeply who we are. We see more clearly the challenges we face. And, Godde willing, we stumble toward redemption.

 

Are There No Facts?

You know those dreams you have or movies you’ve watched where the protagonist is running through the forest, whipped by low-hanging branches, and stumbling through the underbrush? That’s how I feel right now as we try to engage from differing perspectives in our political discourse.

My sister told me a story the other day: she asked some ladies  with whom she was playing bridge how, as Christians, they could support a president who (here she listed any number of his immoral behaviors including adultery, lying, racism, caging children…) and the response was, “I don’t believe it.”

How on earth do we converse with one another when facts are considered malleable?
I’m willing to discuss policy with anyone on any part of the political spectrum from right to left, but if we do not share the same reality, how can we talk about anything?

This is the slope we have careened down when science is disputed and reality is dismissed.
Sometime near the beginning of Trump’s presidency Kelly Ann Conway uttered the phrase “alternative facts”? I assumed that was the beginning of the end. In reality, that was the beginning of the beginning.

I remember when Richard Nixon’s actions came to light. Once the facts were established, both sides of the aisle insisted he step down. This time, this scandal, is horrifically different because our Republican leaders are treating the facts as optional interpretations of reality.

Facts are not something we can choose to believe or not. And if our policies are not based on facts then they will not truly address our problems. Then there is the unspoken truth  that conservatives  fail to critique how their policies underpin racism, sexism, and homophobia. They are unable or unwilling to confront and condemn the prejudice that powers their current movement because that would require admitting and responding to facts.

Where do we go from here? I am uncertain. But I must believe that there are more people who are willing to acknowledge and deal with the facts of climate change, racism, sexism, homophobia and how our lives are diminished – even endangered – than there are who aren’t.  More of us who are willing to be challenged than there are people who insist on believing only what is comfortable or that confirms their prejudices.

Today, let us embrace facts. Let us be challenged and informed by them. Let us offer them to our conservative friends. Over and over again. Open handed, like palming a cube of sugar for a horse. At some point, like the horse, they may come to realize that facts are palatable, even sweet.  They can be tentative as they like, but we must not withdraw our hand.

 

 

 

Will You Do One Right Thing Each Day?


If you are overwhelmed by the events of the day
or the tweet of the hour
or the horror of the tragedies crossing your TV screen
or the past three years…

Do not let it freeze your heart into inaction
because when despair wins
humanity loses,
when despair wins
the people suffer
when despair wins
our beautiful, necessary voices
are silenced.

The Talmud teaches us :
Do not be daunted by the enormity of the world’s grief.
Do justly, now.
Love mercy, now.
Walk humbly now.
You are not obligated to complete the work,
but neither are you free to abandon it” (PIvot).

Today and each day remember
that you are not alone
you are not required do it all.
that others are doing the work
in times and places you may not see.
Remember that every one right thing you do each day
joins with the one right thing that thousands
and hundreds of thousands are doing each day
to create a tsunami of change.

So what one right thing will you do?
Will you register voters?
work for a campaign?
write letters?
march in the streets?
Will you pray and will you give your prayers feet?

Will you do one right thing each day
so that together
we turn the ship of history
and point its bow
away
from the evil that threatens to consume us
and toward
the promise of justice?

Will you do one right thing each day
so that I do not feel alone
and your neighbor does not feel alone
and YOU do not feel alone
so that none of us feel powerless
and all of us can lean into the hope
we are growing together
for our shared future ?

Will you do one right thing each day?

 

Should We Be Afraid?

 

This week I boosted an ad on Facebook for my book. In the past I sent it out to the 25-45 age group. This time, I thought , “I’ll send it out to my age peers, 45-65.”  That choice unleashed a fury of responses that took my breath away. I was called names, quoted scriptures at, and somehow invited a level of hate that astonished me. It scared me. I have been aware of the growing anger and hatred in public discourse. I’ve experienced it as a woman. But I’ve never experienced a virtual mob of verbal pitchforks and torches.

Are some of them bots? Most of them? Are there really people out there who feel entitled and justified in threatening people who believe or live differently? It’s scary folks, made more real by nearly daily mass killings. The relatively small way I experienced the vitriol of the religious right shook me. I started worrying about public appearances – readings, speaking engagements, things I would naturally post to facebook and invite my friends to join me. So far I haven’t shared ‘upcoming events’. I am allowing my fear to silence me.

Women,  African-Americans, people of color, queer folk of every sort, know what it’s like to be afraid. To cower behind silence. It is how the oppressed are controlled.

Howard Thurman who, in Jesus and the Disinherited, taught  how fear silences and disenfranchises the oppressed:

“A man’s conviction that he is God’s child automatically tends to shift the basis of  his  relationship with all his fellows. He recognizes at once that to fear a man, whatever may be that man’s power over him, is a basic denial of the integrity of his very life.”  Thurman, Jesus and the Disinherited, pg 51

There are hundreds of times that scripture urges us to “be not afraid”. Most likely for the same reason. Here’s my point: in this time when domestic terrorists are empowered by the current president, we must choose not to be afraid. We cannot allow fear to strip us of our basic identity  as children of Godde.  We must choose to live as if we are free, as if our lives matter, We must not allow fear to silence us. Otherwise we are enslaved by hate and lies.

Look, I’m still afraid. But I don’t want let  fear control me. Are there very real things going on in our world today of which to be afraid? Absolutely. But I want to be brave enough to not let fear control me.  If the best I can do is to choose to act like I’m  not afraid then I want to make that choice.

We do not live in comfortable times. The danger of the hate  unleashed by current leadership is real. It’s reasonable to be afraid. But hate wins when we allow it to silence us.  Maybe the question isn’t, “Should we be afraid” but “Can we have the courage to live our truth out loud?”

I’m trying. I hope you will join me.

 

Thinking about Racism and Wild Goose

Let’s talk about racism.
We don’t have to be perfect.
But, friends, we must do better than this.

If a critique of Wild Goose is that not enough people of color are involved, then let’s talk about why. I’m not going to say anything that hasn’t been said before, but it bears repeating. And repeating. And repeating. Until we get it a whole lot better than we have.

First of all, kudos for the speakers and presenters of color who were invited and did come.
Thank you to Otis Moss,II, William Barber, Yvette Flunder, and others for bringing your voices and visions.

But that is not enough.

Here is the least of what needs to happen next:
50% of the planning committee needs to be people of color
50% of all presenters need to be people of color
Every panel on any topic needs to include people of color
50% of the conversations in the convo hall need to be moderated by people of color.
We need to ask people of color what they need.
There need to be safe spaces for people of color to gather without including white people.

As I reflect on my time at Wild Goose, where I was a co-creator, my intent is not to disparage  the event, but to continue the important conversation that needs to happen as Wild Goose moves forward. I believe that those involved with this festival are beginning to understand the importance of confronting racism in our nation, our culture, churches, synagogues, and mosques.

Moving forward, into the kin-dom that is here, now, within and between each of us means doing the difficult work of dismantling privilege.

As Trump launches his upcoming campaign fueled by racism run rampant, we cannot pat ourselves on the back for ‘making an effort’.  The stakes are too high and the cost too great.

One of the best things I heard at Wild Goose was a presenter telling us that we can’t claim innocence, as in  ‘I don’t do that’ or ‘my church is not like that’ to  give us a pass. Let us instead talk about the impact of racism on all of us. And those of us who are white and benefit by the unmerited color of our skin, need to realize the impact and privilege we benefit from to the horrible denigration of people of color. If white people cannot even acknowledge how we benefit from a racist  religious, social, and political culture and find it to be abhorrent, then we are lost.

If the people who come to Wild Goose with hearts and minds open cannot wrap their minds around the urgency of this matter,  who will? If we can’t dismantle racism in this community how will we do it in our broader world?   This is my clarion call.

 

 

Hang On to the Dream

Years ago I had the pleasure of seeing Richard Harris in the role of Arthur in the musical Camelot.
It was sweeping in scope. Epic. The story of a vision of justice that they tried to live in to in spite of their short-comings.
They were a flawed lot. Betrayers. Dreamers. Power grabbing. In the play things happen too fast and parts of the story that would explain the downfall are hidden and the audience can  only guess. I wanted to shout “Look there, behind you!”  But I didn’t know what to point to.

In the end   Arthur walks through the rubble of the dream of a time and place built of great ideas of  justice and good  when he stumbles on a young squire  who still believes and wants to be a knight of the Round Table. Arthur sings his final song to him:

Each evening, from December to December,
Before you drift to sleep upon your cot,
Think back on all the tales that you remember
Of Camelot.
Ask ev’ry person if he’s heard the story,
And tell it strong and clear if he has not,
That once there was a fleeting wisp of glory
Called Camelot.
(take a listen at link below)

https://youtu.be/_lhduy0Em74

When I left the theatre I sat in my car and sobbed uncontrollably for  half an hour.

The United States of America is our Camelot, built on amazing, brilliant, beautiful ideas and ideals to be lived out  by a flawed and imperfect people. Historically, we have worked to live into the  dream of  a nation of laws and justice, of common heritage not dependent on geographic origins,  a work in progress pointed toward the perfection of universal suffrage and rights.  We judged ourselves against our aspirations not our reality.
          Today we stand in the rubble of what could have been. Things are coming too fast and parts of the story are hidden and untold that would explain our downfall.  But most of us, like the audience of Camelot, can only guess at what is happening behind the curtain.
I want our ending to be different. I want the next generation to hold on to the dream but I want more than that. I want to win this battle for our souls. 
This is the moment we rise, we stand, we march, we confront the would-be killers of the dream.  Our  future pivots on every action we take. How grand it would be to find a leader to lead us out but we’ve set it up so that we are the leaders.
So lead, friends, lead.
Be tactical in decision making,  be willing to confront those who would rip the dream to shreds, and hold tight to the dream that is our heritage with every ounce of passion and commitment  you can muster.
At the very least,  go down fighting for what is worth fighting for. At best, the dream lives. It’s up to us.