Category Archives: progressive politics

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.

 

Herding Non-Doctrinal Cats

My writing group friend ,who is also a pastor, asserted this morning that people don’t come to church because of doctrine. “If you stood outside the doors of the church on Sunday morning and asked people if they believed what they had just heard, if they were honest they, would say, “No.”

I found that astounding. She went on the say that most people aren’t interested in doctrine. They come because it is a place of welcome, a place they belong, where they have a sense of family. My daughter responded that she doesn’t go to a church because of doctrine but there are churches she won’t go to because of doctrine.

One would think then that being a non-doctrinal church would be easier to establish among the young, but the truth is it takes a certain amount of spiritual maturity, a certain amount of personal history that challenges everything you thought were certainties.

When Circle of Grace started I insisted that we be non-doctrinal. It’s easier said than done because one of the first things someone asks of a church is, “What do you believe?”.  Our covenant is one not based on belief but on relationship. We wrestle with the questions, “How do we relate to Godde?” and “How do we relate to one another and to the created world.” In 1993 we wrote our covenant:
We, the Circle of Grace Community Church, as Christians, covenant with Godde and with one another to:
– Live with compassion and seek justice
– Continually discern that to which Godde calls us
– Build spiritual community that is inclusive of race, gender, sexuality, ability, class,      culture, age, and religious backgrounds.
– Provide safe haven
– Worship together using language about Godde and humanity that is inclusive.
– Live in right relationship with Godde and one another
– Speak truth to power

Our covenant is a pointer and directional marker, challenging us to a different kind of faithfulness and a beacon in the wilderness times. And, yes, it was hard making space for  passionately pro-life and pro-choice people, for those who needed substitutionary atonement and those who found the crucifixion to be a judgment on humanity.  We even discussed whether or not to put “as Christians” in our covenant because of what people assume it means when you say that. But we ended up saying we were reclaiming the word in the same way lesbians reclaimed the word “dyke”.  We would define what it means to be a Christian and, for us, we could agree it meant to follow in the Way of Jesus.

The beauty and the challenge of herding non-doctrinal cats is how much we can learn from one another. I confess that, as a pastor, I was often filled with anxiety. The question uppermost in my mind was, “How can we make room for one another?” – though, truthfully, sometime it was, “Will everyone be able to tolerate this?’. It’s different when you say out loud that a church is non-doctrinal than it is silently living with the reality of it.

I like to think it is some of the important work we do, re-imagining what spiritual community can be in all its unsettled and unsettling differences, making expansive statements that call us to live into a way of being, every gathering and worship service an exercise in herding non-doctrinal cats. Circle of Grace’s commitment and experience is a necessary beacon of a different possibility, a different way of being in the world while still being authentic.

As the world churns with uncertainty and fear for the future, it is seductive to reach for doctrines that give us absolute sureties . But doing that only perpetuates the current miasma. We need a different vision of how to live in the world with all our differences.

Our world desperately needs to become a herd of non-doctrinal cats who choose  to make home together.

 

Waiting for Godde

I’m no Samuel Beckett (Waiting for Godot) and would never pretend to be but I feel like I’m in the middle of his play only it’s happening in real life. I’m in that  in-between-place, having conversations of the meaning of our current reality and  waiting for Godde ,who never seems to show up.

When Trump was first elected the mantra was we mustn’t become inured to the absurdities and atrocities- of language, attitudes, and policies. We must not let it become the ‘new normal.’ Somewhere along the line I had to detach enough to keep my sanity and to keep from sinking into the depressive, palpable miasma of every day news. All this in spite of the fact that I am involved in activism from fighting voter suppression, working on the campaigns of good candidates, writing letters, making phone calls, marching… and struggling not to burn out from all those absolutely important activities.

But the train is bearing down and we are in a struggle for the track switch.    Whoever controls it will determine  the outcome that  will define for generations who were are now and the legacy we leave behind. Will we continue to do the flawed and messy work of expanding freedom and justice? Or will fear and ignorance transform us into yet another authoritarian travesty? Will we make room for our glorious bouquet of differences or will we become absurdly invested in a kind of sameness that destroys our humanity?

These are questions I ask myself every day. And sometimes I wonder, where is Godde in the midst of this?  I am not the first to ask nor will I be the last. In prayer and even when I cannot pray my answer comes. Godde shares our desire for justice, walks with us in our fears, and shares our grief and anger.

And I know this, too: I know that I and we are Godde embodied in the world.  My arms and hands and legs, your arms and hands and legs are Godde’s. A miracle isn’t going to drop out of the sky. I am the miracle. You are the miracle. We are the miracle. We will find a way to pull the switch that will change the tracks.
And even if we cannot throw the switch in time, hate and fear are never the final word. The Christian story tells it this way: death, itself, does not have the final word.
Love is the final word.

Waiting for Godde means waiting for myself and each other.
Waiting for Godde means showing up as the embodiment of Godde.
Waiting for Godde means acting  Love and justice.
Waiting for Godde means speaking truth to power.
Waiting for Godde  means living our truth without fear,  that Love is the first word and the last word.  

 

Change and Healing


I actually prayed today before I began writing. Something like, “Is there a word for me to speak?” And then my mind took off on it’s own about how little difference it would make and the problems of our time are too large and it what I might have to say doesn’t matter anyway. You know. All that self doubt, self-negation, self-flagellation. The sin of women.

And then a whisper came. Not what you say, sweetie. Not how loud or large your words. It’s how you live.

So maybe that’s what I want to say. We make a difference by how we live our lives. We make systemic change when we engage with our whole selves – especially one-on-one. Change happens on the world stage when laws and policy are changed. Healing happens when we are changed by one another.

What heals us is contact, connection, shared experiences, and maybe most of all, listening to the voices of those whose life journeys are different from our own.
Holding the pain of others, imagining what they endured and still endure, is hard. And it can be even more difficult to feel powerless to make change.

Healing is mutually transformative work. It is important for us to be authentic as we engage with one another. A caveat here: often those who are traumatized by our system don’t necessarily feel safe enough to be authentic back. And it’s got to be okay. Until… there has been enough listening, enough ‘standing under with’, enough staying,  to earn mutual authenticity.

The real change I can make, that all of us can make is to do the work of healing relationships in community and to be connected in a disconnected world. We must take time to sit, to reach out, and to listen. To care when it is not easy. To act when we aren’t sure of what the right or best action is. To be willing to be confronted and even to be wrong sometimes.

How we live heals the world into making change.
Don’t stop marching, writing or voting – but don’t stop there.
Live ways that demand something of you.
Live in ways that call you to your best, highest, brightest being.
This is what heals us.
It’s not how large or loud your words are, sweetie, it’s how you live.
And I got that from a very good source.

 

Do What You Can

Today I will make a call.
I will call my senators and ask them to vote to open the government.
Today I will write an email.
I will email my senators and ask them to vote to open the government.
Today I will write a letter.
I will write to my senators and ask them to vote to open the government.

It is the very least I can do.
If I do not do at least this much
then I have not begun to do enough.

Danger lurks in our inaction
as much as it lurks
in the inaction
of our elected officials.

Today make a call.
Send an email.
Write a letter.
Begin here.
Do what you can.
Together, our seemingly insignificant drops
could become a wave.

Do Not Be Afraid: Are You F***ing Kidding Me

 

Someone once told me that the phrase “Do not be afraid” or “Fear not” is in the Bible 365 times. Once for each day of the year, I guess.  I don’t know if the count is correct but it does seem to be a biblical theme of some importance.

In my life I’ve been afraid (and often overcome the fear) of:
dying
giving birth
coming out
sharks
mad cow disease
being in a wreck
having a terminal illness
losing someone I love
flying
failing
… the list goes on, but you get the gist.

These days I’m afraid in ways I’ve never been before. The constants in our lives are no longer certainties. Not longer can I assume that:
-our governing bodies ultimately put the nation over self-interest
-our president is not the pawn of a foreign and hostile nation
-our structure as a nation of laws will survive
-our people stand on common ground amidst disagreements
-our nation is bending the arc of history toward justice.

Those are things I believed, that grounded my way of being in the world. Yes, I know there was much evidence to the contrary, but my experience was that our deeper values of freedom and justice would prevail because I have seen and been a part of years of radical change – albeit slow – of civil rights for African-Americans, women’s rights, gay rights, immigrant rights… We are not there yet but our trajectory was on course.

Now I am deathly afraid of this slow-motion dive. If our nation was a jumbo jet I feel like I’m watching it break apart in v-e-r-y slow motion while diving at the speed of sound. We see it. It’s happening. Solutions are sluggish when  we need immediate and desperate measures. Many of our leaders appear to be wearing blinders at best or are colluding with a hostile power at worst. It is not a paranoid statement when  I’m referring to Senators and Representatives who are funded by Russian money siphoned through the NRA.

So how the hell do we not be afraid? Is the Bible selling us a bill of goods or could it be inviting us into a way of living when fear overwhelms us?  Maybe it’s an invitation to ‘feel the fear and do it anyway’. Do what, you might well ask.

So far this is what I can imagine doing  while terrified:
-fighting for the ideals on which this nation was founded
-speaking out, speaking up, making noise,
-living as if we will emerge from this horror.

When my daughter was in high school I took her to see Richard Harris in Camelot. The closing scene is of Arthur telling a young squire to remember what Camelot was: a place where majestic dreaming commenced. He sings this song in the midst of the smoky ruins of battle. Before the curtain dropped I began to cry. I cried all the way to the parking lot and sat in our car with my head pressed against the steering wheel until my wrenching sobs quieted. The loss of hope, of a time of justice, of seeking the good, was too much for me to bear. I’m feeling like that now but I and we cannot afford the luxury of letting our fears and grief overwhelm us.

I believe a pastor’s most important task is to see and offer hope. Here is what I can offer today:
– when others count on our fear to paralyze us, we discover our courage
-when the plane is plunging into destruction, we pull up
-when fear isolates us, we come together to make change

Is the Bible selling us a bill of goods when it repeatedly encourages us not to be afraid? I think not, though sometimes I feel like it is. ‘Don’t be afraid’ means to me that we live into our truths, that we don’t allow fear to control us. It means we can pull up. As afraid as I am, I have another vision of our crashing plane and it’s this:

We can make it through these times if we hang together.
Hold me up and I will hold you up.
I am less afraid when you are with me.

 

Healing the Divide

I’m not alone in thinking about the horrific divide in our nation. The chasm seems so great that we cannot imagine reaching across – or that if we try we would tumble into the abyss.

I have several thoughts I’d like to share that may be a way back to one another. Let’s start with the premise that we need one another. Stretch with me. Even if you have to say ‘I need the Trump supporter who manufactures washing machines’ or ‘I need the liberal who produces my favorite TV show.’ Let’s start here.

Now let’s take what we know from science: different people are wired differently. We can see that in things as simple as cilantro tasting like soap to some and like heavenly elixir to others. Science has also shown us that there are differing ways brains are wired and differing motivations. Conservatives tend to be motivated more by fear and liberals more by compassion. Here’s a great link to an NPR segment from Hidden Brain entitled Red Brain/Blue Brain:

https://www.npr.org/2018/10/03/654127241/nature-nurture-and-your-politics

Then I think about the great American historian, Joseph Ellis, who wrote the ground-breaking work, Founding Brothers. His research is stellar and his premise (and I’m boiling it down with impunity) is that the reason our political revolution was a success is  because, though the political arguments then were nearly identical to the political arguments today, it is the  relationships between our fore brothers  that made for a third way. They respected one another and though they disagreed profoundly were able to create a third way making use of the strengths of each.

As a liberal or progressive raised as a military brat I have a bird’s eye view to both sides. What I have discovered is that neither side is absolutely right nor is either side absolutely wrong. I was a pacifist at an early age. No war. No way. No how.
Then I was exposed to the Nazi history of the holocaust and to KKK lynchings in the South.
Like Bonhoeffer, my absolutes were challenged. Not by another absolute but by the idea that maybe absolutes are chilling and unwieldy in themselves.

So where does that leave us? I have lots of thoughts about this. First, we have to stop fear-mongering and call out those who do. Our president is the worst in this category. He whips conservative fears into a frenzy then offers solutions that cannot be met. Then we have to listen to the concerns born of fear and find reasonable ways of responding to real concerns. Next, let those of us motivated by compassion acknowledge that some fears are reasonable. Then let the same compassion work to find ways forward that are respectful of the fears: reasonable vetting, for one.

The elephant in the room that must be addressed is truth. Or more important: lying. We must accept factual information backed by science, research, observation, and data. Lying and the rise of ‘alternative facts’ is the slimy slope that both demeans and abuses our conservative neighbors. I’m not sure how to address this but I am sure I will write about it again. We must be able as a nation, a world, and family members to distinguish between fact and opinion.

Finally, and most important, we have to start seeing and treating one another as important team-mates. When we propose policies let us be informed by one another and stop seeking absolutes. The foundation of this nation is based on finding a third way. Period. So, my friends, this is an invitation to complex thinking, to nuanced thinking, and to the possibility that we are all wrong sometimes.

 

The Trouble With Needing People to Be Perfect

I ‘m on a tear today. First, because I was woken up by my car mechanic with bad news about the OUTRAGEOUS cost of a car repair that is absolutely necessary. It wasn’t the start of my mood, but it didn’t help.

This whole week, since the death of President George H. Walker Bush, I’ve listen to remembrances, eulogies, and critiques of the man. Depending on the opiner, he was either  a saint or a demon. Not much of what I have heard is nuanced. So here’s my two cents worth.

I didn’t like his domestic policies, by and large. But then, I often disagree with Republicans over domestic policy. His were no worse than other Republican presidents and better than some  others. But it never occurred to me that he didn’t have the interests of the nation at heart, no matter how misguided or tone-deaf he was. I didn’t always agree with him about international policies but, in retrospect, I see how important the way he handled the collapse of the Soviet Union contributed to world peace. It takes a decent man not to gloat.

As a man, and not a political figure, I admire his love for his wife and children, his kindness to people with whom he disagreed, his love of baseball, and his genuine humanity. He was not perfect. He was a good man who could make bad decisions that affected millions of people – even the entire world. But I get that his desire was to do good, to work for the betterment of the country.

I can’t be bothered to hate a man who tried to live an ethical life; who, like my own father, lived a life in service to the nation. I can’t hate a man because we disagreed or because he wasn’t perfect.

What I do hate is the judgment and intolerance of others. I hate it with a passion. To those who are intent on a harsh and final judgment of George H. W. Bush,  I would like to say, you are going to hate it when someone holds you to an impossible standard. You may hate yourself right now. I humbly suggest that we critique ourselves and others by a standard other than perfection, one that allows for our humanity.

We live in a time where our current president can be distinguished by his lack of humanity. Let’s save our judgment for that.

 

We Are Herod

 

I woke up to images of children being tear gassed.
Babies in agony.
Mother’s with no power to protect.
Men in protective gear at war
with the most vulnerable among us.

Is it only two thousand eighteen years ago
that a baby threatened an empire?
That children were slaughtered in the name of fear?
Are we really going to do this again?
and again?
and again?
and again?

This is who we are:
We are Herod
We are Rome
We are  empire perpetrating itself
on the backs of the powerless
whose only sin is hope.

We are no longer a shining city on a hill.
We are soldiers following orders
marching again to Nuremberg

If there is any redemption
we will find it in the tent cities
where children have no place to lay their heads
we will find it in the desert
where families are fleeing violence and oppression
we will only find it where others refuse to look.

And if we do not find the Sacred in
the weary travelers at our border
may we, like Herod
be overthrown by our arrogance.