Category Archives: musings

Finding Your Rhythm

February 20, 2017everyday theology, musings, progressive politics, resistance, spiritual practice, UncategorizedConnie Tuttle

Last week I, my sister, and my beloved Harry-the-dog went to the beach. Harry and I took some alone time on an isolated beach near Santa Rosa, Florida. When we reached the shore I let him off the leash and he pounded along the white sands before turning and leaping into the crystal green ocean. He swam out a few feet to catch a small wave that would push him gently back to shore. And then he would do it again. Over and over and over with unremitting joy. We spent the entire afternoon like this, the only exception when he chased shore birds keening overhead with his full-throated bark, tail lashing in delight. The beauty of the sand, the crystal ocean, the keening of birds, the hiss of waves, the warmth of the sun, the joy of my dog friend. It doesn’t get better than this.

But it could be gone too soon. The ocean polluted by plastic and toxic waste. The beaches overtaken by big-money developers paving paradise, the endangered species protected near the shore could become extinct, and only the wealthy could have access to our nation’s natural treasures – if they choose to leave them untouched, if oil rigs don’t malfunction and turn the pristine waters of the Gulf into yet another deadly slick.

These are but a few reasons I will take in all the goodness of my down time to energize my commitment to work for a better America and against the self-serving, irrational policies of the current administration.

If I should get tired of marching, I’ll remember Harry romping on the beach.

If I should get tired of making phone calls, writing letters, emails, and postcards, I will recall the public lands that are a part of our legacy as a nation.

If I should get tired of showing up at my representative’s offices to demand representation, I’ll plug into the energy of knowing who we can be, who we have tried to be, and refuse to let go.

I posted on facebook last week that I was a little tired and overwhelmed (already!!) and reminded myself and others of the importance of self-care. I am here to testify today that self-care renews us for the fight. It gives us a rhythm, like the ceaseless rhythm of the waves. The rhythm we need so that we can keep on keeping on for as long as it takes. This is not an either/or proposition. This is how we sustain our actions until we turn the tide. This is how we reset the buttons of our public discourse not only during this challenge to our very institutions of freedom, but for all the years to come. As citizens, we must be vigilant and involved on levels our generation has not seen.

So find your rhythm. Connect with your source. Prepare for the long-haul. We cannot afford to burn out.

For Those Who Are Afraid of Freedom

February 13, 2017musings, progressive politics, resistance, UncategorizedConnie Tuttle

“We must be free not because we claim freedom, but because we practice it.” ― William Faulkner, Essays, Speeches & Public Letters

Freedom is scary. We always say we want it but I’m not so sure we do. Why? Because freedom takes hard work. It requires training and practice and commitment. Freedom challenges our most dearly held assumptions- sometimes about things we didn’t even know could be challenged. The most recent challenges are to our evolving understanding of gender identity, refugees, and differing faiths. How our republic responds to this stretching will be a tribute to our commitment to freedom or a disastrous erosion of our principles. We are sliding backward at an alarming rate.

Healthy freedom means you have to be a grown up and take responsibility for yourself, your community, your state, and nation, and finally, for the global human family. One must be brave to be free. Freedom is not for the timid even though a free society must protect the timid and guarantee their freedoms. We must be courageous enough to connect with people of different faiths, classes, races, religions or abilities and see us all as citizens. We must allow our assumptions of ‘the other’ to be challenged, and we must be open to change. Most of all, we need free flowing, correct information to function as a republic. And finally, we must enter the fray, be involved in our civic lives, and have pitched battles with those who think very differently from ourselves, all the while holding fast to the greater truth that we are one people.

And if I am being completely truthful, I must tell you that freedom is not safe. I bow to our fore brother, Benjamin Franklin, for this wisdom, who first said: “They who can give up essential liberty to obtain a little temporary safety deserve neither liberty nor safety.” ― Benjamin Franklin, Memoirs of the life & writings of Benjamin Franklin

Freedom is the product of those of us who are willing to face our fears, who so believe in its principles that we are willing to risk its survival.

Authoritarianism, on the other hand, is the fall back for the faint at heart, who want easy answers, and personal safety. The seduction of authoritarianism is that it will provide those things for you, even if it is at the expense of others. If you are afraid of freedom, I beg you to find your courage. Risk for what is good and right. Find cohorts who are committing to freedom in the face of fear.

The current administration wants us to be afraid, they want to control information, justice, and even our personal lives. They can do that if we let our fear control us. It is okay to be afraid but we cannot let fear rule us if we are to be the torchbearers of freedom.

Here’s What We Can’t Do

February 9, 2017everyday theology, musings, progressive politics, resistance, spiritual practice, UncategorizedConnie Tuttle

Do you, like me, wake up every morning wondering what fresh new hell has occurred while you were asleep? Silencing women. Confirming the unqualified and the racist to two important positions in government. Nudging us to the brink of nuclear war. Climbing in bed with Putin. Refuting the supremacy of law. The catalogue is longer than I have either the time or interest to list. Suffice it to say that in a short three weeks we have been subjected to seemingly unending ‘series of unfortunate events’.

Many of us are calling our senators and representatives. Keep it up.

Many of us are writing letters, postcards, and emails. Don’t stop.

Many of us are going to town hall meetings. Show up. Speak up.

Many of us keep marching. Rest those pups and keep on walking.

Many of us are meeting together, making connections, and multiplying our energy. Keep on keeping on.

There are times when we may become overwhelmed, fearful, or exhausted but we can’t lose hope or give up.

We can’t give up because:

we believe that our beauty and power are expressed in many ways

we believe in sharing power and in each one having a voice

we stand with those who cannot stand for themselves

we speak for those with no voice

we care about the powerless, the homeless, the ill, the impoverished, the marginalized

we care about our planet and its future

all those things are worth standing for whether or not we prevail

There is no failure when we live into what we believe.

The Power of Small Acts of Resistance

February 2, 2017musings, progressive politics, resistance, spiritual practice, UncategorizedConnie Tuttle

In Chaos Theory there is something called ‘the butterfly effect’. The most popular example is of a monsoon in China caused a butterfly flapping its wings in New Mexico. It may take a very long time, but the connection is real. If the butterfly had not flapped its wings at just the right point in space/time, the hurricane would not have happened.

Here’s our takeaway: Small acts make a big difference.

Do you think your phone call to a Senator’s or Representative’s office doesn’t make a difference? Think again. What will a postcard matter? More than we can imagine. Showing up at a town hall meeting? Ten thousand butterfly wings flutter.

We are not corporations. We are not the power elite. We are teachers, preachers, plumbers, administrative assistants, veterans and veterinarians, dog-walkers and retirees, hair dressers and waitresses. We are moms and dads, grandparents, sisters and brothers. Our individual and collective actions, however small, will change the climate in Washington.

So flap away my fellow butterflies.

“Are You Ready? Come Go With Me”

January 19, 2017everyday theology, feminism, LGBT theology, memoir, musings, progressive christianity, spiritual practice, UncategorizedConnie Tuttle

Today we pack our belongings – enough to last for three days. Not so much meager as essential. Take only what you need. Underwear, shirts, a pair of jeans, portable phone charger, black sharpie, metro pass, ID, gas money.

In the morning we load up the car. We will wipe the sleep from our eyes and suck down coffee as we face early traffic. It will be a long drive. And we will laugh and sing, pray and cry. Mostly we will feel both our connections and our shared fears.

I am not afraid of dying so much. And perhaps I am being over-dramatic but a friend called this morning and asked if I were sure I wanted to go. There could be violence, he warned. And this, too, is new for a seasoned marcher like me. This march may be more like Montgomery and Selma than the peaceful marches for women’s rights, against the war, for civil rights, for gay rights that I have been a part of… this might be different.

I am not so much afraid of dying but it doesn’t mean I do not want to live. The Way in which I follow, the one whose life is my roadmap lets me know there are things worse than dying. Not standing for the disenfranchised, whether or not I am one of that number, is worse than keeping ‘safe’. And what is ‘keeping safe’ any way if I abandon my core principles.

My dad was a soldier. He put his life on the line many days for many years. He, too, taught me that it is important to live in service to something greater than yourself. And he taught me that being brave and being afraid are intricately entwined. He even went so far as to tell me that if I wasn’t afraid then I would not proceed with caution and that was just plain stupid.

No matter the outcome of this testament to the values we hold sacred, the standing together matters. I will stand with you, my friends, and I will stand for you.

There is a song from my younger days that the Staple Singers sang. It keeps running through my head and it is important for our time as well. I’ve posted the lyrics here. It is my invitation to the nation: come go with me. Go to Washington. Go to your local march. We cannot wait to stand and be counted.

If you’re ready come go with me

No hatred

Will be tolerated

Peace love all between the races

Love is the only transportation

To where there’s communications

If you’re ready come go with me

The boat is after

The ever here to there

No wars will ever be declared

No economical exploitation

No political domination

Take your evil

Come go with me

Genocide

Get ready

Troublemaker

You better get ready now

Liars

I’m waiting on ya

Songwriters

BANKS, HOMER / HAMPTON, CARL MITCHELL / JACKSON, RAYMOND E.

Bread of Life

January 5, 2017everyday theology, memoir, musings, spiritual practice, UncategorizedConnie Tuttle

Can I tell you a story about what happened the other day? On December 20^th a new friend came by with a large bag and handed it to me saying, ‘Merry Christmas’. I opened it and the yeasty fragrance of freshly baked bread wafted into the air. It was a loaf of homemade bread that she made in a bread machine.

“Can I tell you a story?” I asked.

“Sure.” She replied.

“My mom baked bread every week in her bread machine. When someone moved into the neighborhood she took a loaf of homemade bread and welcomed them. Every week she took a fresh loaf to her hairdresser as her ‘tip’. She often baked bread for communion at Circle of Grace. What you don’t know is that today is the second anniversary of my mother’s passing. This loaf of bread must be coming from her through you. It is the most special gift I will receive.”

This is my Christmas story.

We Need A Little Christmas…

December 22, 2016A Gracious Heresy, Circle of Grace, everyday theology, LGBT theology, musings, progressive christianity, progressive politics, UncategorizedConnie Tuttle

Not here we said.

Never here.

But it is here

and it is now.

Wealth so repulsive, unethical, self-serving

Built on the backs of the hungry, the hurting, the oppressed,

the left out and left behind.

Power so arrogant as to despise kindness and human dignity.

We need a little Christmas right this very minute

We need a vision of the beauty in creation

the ethic of vulnerability

the power of love.

We need a story that emerges in the midst of

an oppressive state

corrupt power

religious factions.

We need a story of perseverance

Right over might

Love over hate

Goodness over evil

Truth over lies.

America is built on ideas that are important to hold on to and that many have forgotten. We are built on ideas that require a strong commitment to diversity, to a free press and undiluted truth. Assumed in our constitution, in all our founding documents is the idea that we will remain in dialogue. That respect for one another grounds us in a way of being. That relationship is necessary and disagreement is always in context of relationship. The concept of the ‘loyal opposition’ assumes we all seek the greater good for the nation.

We have lost that relationship. Lost it because, in no small part, the right is now so radicalized (see: Tea Party, white supremacists) that finding ‘a third way’ is no longer the goal. All or nothing is the goal. It has rent us in two.

So when I, as a pastor, say ‘we need a little Christmas’ I mean we need to remember the source of our faith journey. It begins in poverty, it values the outsider (moral, cultural, racial, etc) and it overcomes oppression, hate, and fear with love. Our story invites us to a kind of love that infuses a deep sense of self worth, the courage to resist, and the willingness to sacrifice.

Now the rubber meets the road. We must live into ideas greater than ourselves and our own self-interest. For my fellow Christians, this season I urge us to embrace our story of hope, power, and promise. And let us honor faith traditions other than our own who journey beside us as they uniquely express the love of God.

The story of this nation isn’t over.

The story of the incarnation isn’t over.

It is just beginning.

Our hope is being born in the muck,

in the stench of poverty

in the belly of the oppressive beast.

We must allow hope to be born in us

with power and passion

for the facing of this hour.

What Gives Us Hope

December 1, 2016everyday theology, musings, progressive politicsConnie Tuttle

This post election season is so filled with hate that it makes me wonder who we are. We said it was a referendum on which America we would be… and then Donald Trump ‘won’. He won and the anti-Semites, racists, woman demeaners, LGBT bashers came pouring out of their swamps into the light of day.

Where did they all come from and where are their breeding grounds? As I see Trump’s cabinet fleshing out and filling up it is becoming clear that the breeding grounds are greed, self-interest, privilege, and fear of change. The rich are now in positions of power and leading the charge. They got the votes of people who will, no doubt, suffer from their decisions. Inspiring hate and an ‘us versus them’ mindset will continue to deflect their followers from the more ‘bigly’ truth.

If we were to base our vision for the future of our nation and who we are becoming on those facts it would be easy to despair. We are in trouble, no doubt about it. The coming weeks, months, and years will try us as we have never been tried. I have held dear ones who sobbed in my arms crying, “How do we go on from here?” I have heard from many who fear for their lives. The coming administration is setting us against one another and we all know that will foster distrust, fear, and hate. I wish we were immune but we are not. Don’t think this can’t happen to you or you will not recognize the message when it begins insinuating itself into your life.

In light of all that, what gives hope? And by hope I do not mean optimism. Rather, how do we move forward in the midst of all this in a way that is life-giving?

we can refuse to divide ourselves from the ‘other’ and find our common ground
we can speak out and stand up in situations where someone (even ourselves) are treated like ‘the other’
we can intentionally build interlinked communities of support and action
we can refuse to buy into the idea that there is only one right way to do things and make room for different gifts and skills that individuals and communities bring
we can take back our country one issue at a time and one election at a time.
we can continue to be who we believe we are even when we are afraid.

Fear decimates trust. We can’t afford to be afraid of one another. We are a patchwork of different communities whose borders don’t always touch. We do things differently for different reasons. We have different abilities and different perspectives. Now is the time to utilize all of our resources, to know deeply that there are many ‘right’ ways. Now is when we celebrate what each one, each community, each faith or non-faith brings to the table. Let our kaleidoscope of possibilities give us hope.

We’re All in This Together

November 17, 2016everyday theology, feminism, musings, progressive christianity, progressive politicsConnie Tuttle

There is one thing we can’t afford to do. We cannot afford to say there is only one right way to respond to growing hatred and fear in our nation. If we do we will lose the gifts, the energy, the voices of many of our allies.

We are an aggregate of women, men, non-binary folk, African-American, white, Mexican, Middle Eastern, straight, LGBTQ, young and old, with differing abilities. And if you don’t feel included in the list above, my apologies – because you belong on that list and we are in this together with you, too.

We have a lot to learn about one another. About races other than our own, other faiths than our own – or people who are outside any religious tradition –genders other than our own, sexual identities other than our own, experiences other than our own… you get my drift. All of us are valuable and have something important to contribute.

It may small daily acts, it might be phone calls, it might be marching in the streets, it might be attending anti-racism workshops, it might be offering a safe space for others to speak or grieve, it might be standing up for others even when you, yourself are terrified. It might be becoming politically educated and politically involved. It might even be wearing a safety pin to let people know you are a safe person and that you will stand with them.

We need to empower one another to speak with the voices we have, however disparate. We may need to educate others who stand with us now who not have been visible before.

Are micro-aggressions real? Absolutely.

Does misogyny need to be recognized and addressed cross-culturally? Without a doubt.

Is now the time to confront our own internalized homophobia? Of course.

Do we need to recognize and allow ourselves to be challenged by our different beliefs, cultures, and experiences? For sure.

But if we forget that what binds us is a passion for justice and freedom, if we don’t affirm the humanity of each one, if we refuse one another’s gifts, then we are not nourishing a sustained commitment to one another for this fight.

So here’s my point: we are all in this together. Let us make room. Let us encourage one another to stand and to work in the ways we are able. Let us honor the different abilities we have to do different kinds of work. We have to listen through the things that that trigger us and engage where necessary but we cannot let our differences stop us.

What we share is a commitment. If they fracture us, then they win.

That Time A Man Grabbed My Pussy

October 13, 2016feminism, memoir, musings, progressive politics, UncategorizedConnie Tuttle

A storm of memories hit when I heard Donald Trump bragging about being able to grab a woman’s ‘pussy’ without repercussion.

Like most, if not all, women I have been subject to unwanted advances, sexual innuendoes, lecherous remarks, and crude invitations. I have been and felt threatened to be by myself at night. I know the drill. We learn to navigate it. Our awareness becomes second nature and, eventually, not even consciously recognized. As a woman who embraces my sexuality I encounter men who think I ‘deserve’ the unwanted attention, however sordid.

I was twenty-one or so and worked in a bar around the corner from the Springer Opera House in Columbus, Georgia where I volunteered backstage for their theatre productions. One evening, after the opening of a play, members of the audience crowded in for a nightcap before going home. It was a crush. I placed a slew of drink orders at the bar and carefully placed over ten mixed drinks on my serving tray. Lifting it over my head and pushing my way through the throng I smiled and joked with the customers as I passed.

Then it happened. I gently pushed through a group congregated in the middle of my path. These folks were dressed to the nines. Women in evening clothes, men in suits. The crème de la crème of Columbus society. As I made my way I felt a hand reach between my legs from behind and grab my pussy.

As if he had a right.

I pivoted on a dime in the tight space, wrenching myself from his trespass and smashed my tray full of drinks into his face.

“Get your hands off me!” I screamed, shaking with outrage.

I couldn’t believe anyone would be so arrogant as to grab me like that, in public, with his wife standing nearby. Without my permission.

He told the bar owner that he hadn’t done a thing. I insisted he had. The owner told me that as his employee I was considered his ‘ property’ and I should have come to him. Then he did something the Donald would love, he sneered at me and said, “You’re Fired!”

So when I heard Donald Trump bragging about what he is able to do (in his mind) without permission I was forced to remember the time I was powerless to defend myself. Did I mention I was a single mom supporting my daughter? The man with the money and the power and the arrogance to assault me like that suffered a little embarrassment and the enjoyment of having me fired. I suffered both assault on my most intimate self and financial insecurity.

So thanks, Donald, for helping me remember what it is like to have a rich and powerful man assault you with impunity. Thank you for reminding me how the women who have come forward are brave and righteous. And, finally, thank you for revealing yourself as an arrogant, entitled, misogynist who has no idea how your actions of a moment affect the women you manhandle for a lifetime.