I recently found an old draft of this post and decided to share it. - sm
Where do I even start this story?
It was last July (2010). I was standing in the entryway to the airplane, watching my soon-to-be seatmate in the first class cabin put lotion on her hands, and I had a bad feeling about this.
I was on my way back to NJ from Spokane, WA and North Pacific Yearly Meeting in Missoula, MT. I’d accepted a voluntary bump that re-routed me through Portland on a twin-prop plane, instead of going through Salt Lake City on a commuter jet.
Happily, coming into Portland, it was a calm evening, and the view of mountains and rivers was gorgeous. (Gorges, for the Columbia River Gorge?)
Powell’s Books in PDX was an unexpected respite and delight. I’d been upgraded to first class for the second, red-eye part of my journey, an ambiguous delight. (Paying for real, unsweetened oatmeal for breakfast at JFK the next morning with an airline voucher was deeply satisfying.)
I was feeling ambiguous about being in first class. I’d been thinking about class a lot lately, talking about it a fair bit, and been writing about it some. And hoo boy, had I been feeling in touch with my working class roots and self.
So that night, on one hand, I welcomed the extra space on a flight where I would really, really need to get some sleep; Beloved Wife was overseas on a research trip, and I was going to need to get myself to central NJ on public transit from JFK when my body thought it was 3 am and I was under the weather. But I felt somehow like I was reinforcing the class system. And I also felt somehow like I wasn’t presenting as “good enough” for first class. Conversely, with our family's scruffy travel backpack, no makeup, my faded Guatemalan print pants and my hiking shirt, traveling first class on a mitzvah, I also felt like I was subverting the class system. (And representing well, too...)
So I sat down next to my seatmate. And oh, my, was that lotion strong. I can’t even tell you what it smelled like, except it was very spicy somehow.
Because first class boards early, I had a lot of time to contemplate what to do. Or not to do. I had a lot of time to argue with myself that that lotion wasn’t actually making me sick. It wasn’t giving me a migraine, so it was easy to argue that it wasn’t really making me nauseated – that was just how warm the airplane was.
I’d already had a bad asthma attack this trip because of totally unexpected mold exposure; both the asthma attack and the meds to treat it had left me feeling pretty vulnerable. The next day I’d had an ADA accessibility problem and a chemical exposure problem within the same ten-minute time frame, both of which also left me feeling tender and vulnerable. I’d been wrestling with these kinds of issues for a good chunk of my trip, with Friends who love and respect me, and even with that love and support it was hard – so let me tell you exactly how much Ms. Scruffy Itinerant Minister Bumped Up to First Class felt like telling a total stranger her hand lotion was a problem.
I got up to pull my cell phone out of my bag in the overhead and turn it off. Standing in the aisle, I instantly felt much better.
Shit, I thought. I have to say something. What do I say? How do I ask this total stranger in first class to go wash her hands?
I sat back down. Lotion. My head pounded and my stomach rebelled.
“Excuse me,” I finally said. “I need your help with something…”
And it worked.
My seatmate was quite startled, but very responsive. I kept it short and sweet and talked about it in terms of allergies. She was sympathetic. She’s from Europe and her husband’s from the US, and they have very different allergy problems when they visit family in different countries. She obviously felt a little silly washing her hands, but then worried the fragrance in the soap would be a problem. It was fine, and I was deeply grateful.
She drank her wine and went to sleep.
Eventually, I went to sleep, too.
Showing posts with label grace. Show all posts
Showing posts with label grace. Show all posts
Monday, 8 August 2011
Monday, 28 March 2011
An Epistle from Friends for Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, and Queer Concerns, Midwinter Gathering 2011
An Epistle from Friends for Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, and Queer Concerns
Midwinter Gathering 2011
To All Friends Everywhere,
We send you love from Friends for Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender and Queer Concerns Midwinter Gathering, held from February 18-21st, 2011 in Browns Summit, North Carolina.
There was a time when we could not say our name. We dared not say our name -- even in the Religious Society of Friends. We were the Committee of Concern. This community has grown up around the concept of “radical inclusion” – the willingness to welcome new and different kinds of people into our community even when we had not expected them, recognizing the expansion of our understanding of who we are as a form of continuing revelation. Some of those who helped form this community continue to actively be a part of our community, for which we are blessed. Others have moved on. Still others have passed on. Yet all these Friends are still very much with us, standing in their own integrity, and calling us into our own.
We came together once again to witness to the power of radical love and radical inclusion to transform and sustain us spiritually – both individually and as a community and to discern how we are called to deepen our commitment to that call. Framed by our theme, “Reclaiming our Past; Proclaiming our Future,” we heard stories of what happens when we do this well. When we are faithful, we recognize that love is a practice, that in relationship we reveal and discover our true selves. We share the stories and truth emerging from our lives; when needed, we say to one another, “You’re standing on my foot! Please get off!” And then we talk about it. We experience the gifts of receiving and giving love that is shaped by the quirks and flavors of each of our individual essences; in so doing, we invite each other into wholeness, greater integrity, a fuller understanding of who we are as a community, and even greater integrity, and thus the cycle begins again.
As we shared our truths with one another in worship, Spirit revealed to and through us how wholeness, community, love, and integrity are intimately intertwined with each other. As one Friend said, “With Quakers, I cannot lie about who I am.” He spoke about how Friends from this community “kicked me out of the closet” – not through violence, but through holding him to a higher standard of integrity and by loving him for exactly who he is. Another Friend gazed into the eyes of each speaker on a panel of our elders, expressing how she could feel the flavor of each life moving through her, transforming her. A third urged that in an unsafe and sometimes hostile world, we must nevertheless go cheerfully where we are led, understanding that only as we bring our full selves forward can we make the world safer for those who will follow. A fourth speaker, an attender for whom this gathering was hir* first experience of Quakerism, spoke powerfully at the end of the gathering of how way had opened for hir* to be here, and a sense of how “I am supposed to be where I am right now. Life is overwhelming but I can do it.” Young and young adult Friends spoke deeply of the condition of a continuum of sexual and gender identities and the urgent necessity of a place of full and unconditional love and acceptance to call forth one’s true self. They spoke of the blessing of a safe space where they could be fully known, of the feeling that FLGBTQC was a place where there was no “card check,” where all were welcome, warts and all, where they could bring their whole selves forward.
We also know our own stories of the pain it inflicts when radical love and inclusion are absent – experienced within this community and others. We know that we have work to do to more faithfully practice radical love and inclusion with people of color and Young Adult Friends and Young Friends, and those who may yearn for but not be aware of or have access to our community.
We ask for the prayers of all Friends everywhere as we do our work, and we ask you, as way opens, to support us and join with us in our struggle. We offer you our unfolding witness and testimony to the power of radical love and inclusion in this community and an invitation to join in this experience at gatherings in the future. Co-clerks can be reached via telephone at 267-270-2315 or email at flgbtqc@gmail.com. Our website is http://flgbtqc.quaker.org/.
On behalf of Friends for Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender and Queer Concerns,
Deborah Fisch, Co-Clerk
Kody Hersh, Co-Clerk
* Many people who identify as neither men nor women prefer to be referred to by non-gendered pronouns, and this attender is among those people. The word "hir" in this case is grammatically equivalent to "her" as the possessive ("this is hir [item]") and object form ("I gave it to hir") but carries no connotation of a female or male gender.
Midwinter Gathering 2011
To All Friends Everywhere,
We send you love from Friends for Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender and Queer Concerns Midwinter Gathering, held from February 18-21st, 2011 in Browns Summit, North Carolina.
There was a time when we could not say our name. We dared not say our name -- even in the Religious Society of Friends. We were the Committee of Concern. This community has grown up around the concept of “radical inclusion” – the willingness to welcome new and different kinds of people into our community even when we had not expected them, recognizing the expansion of our understanding of who we are as a form of continuing revelation. Some of those who helped form this community continue to actively be a part of our community, for which we are blessed. Others have moved on. Still others have passed on. Yet all these Friends are still very much with us, standing in their own integrity, and calling us into our own.
We came together once again to witness to the power of radical love and radical inclusion to transform and sustain us spiritually – both individually and as a community and to discern how we are called to deepen our commitment to that call. Framed by our theme, “Reclaiming our Past; Proclaiming our Future,” we heard stories of what happens when we do this well. When we are faithful, we recognize that love is a practice, that in relationship we reveal and discover our true selves. We share the stories and truth emerging from our lives; when needed, we say to one another, “You’re standing on my foot! Please get off!” And then we talk about it. We experience the gifts of receiving and giving love that is shaped by the quirks and flavors of each of our individual essences; in so doing, we invite each other into wholeness, greater integrity, a fuller understanding of who we are as a community, and even greater integrity, and thus the cycle begins again.
As we shared our truths with one another in worship, Spirit revealed to and through us how wholeness, community, love, and integrity are intimately intertwined with each other. As one Friend said, “With Quakers, I cannot lie about who I am.” He spoke about how Friends from this community “kicked me out of the closet” – not through violence, but through holding him to a higher standard of integrity and by loving him for exactly who he is. Another Friend gazed into the eyes of each speaker on a panel of our elders, expressing how she could feel the flavor of each life moving through her, transforming her. A third urged that in an unsafe and sometimes hostile world, we must nevertheless go cheerfully where we are led, understanding that only as we bring our full selves forward can we make the world safer for those who will follow. A fourth speaker, an attender for whom this gathering was hir* first experience of Quakerism, spoke powerfully at the end of the gathering of how way had opened for hir* to be here, and a sense of how “I am supposed to be where I am right now. Life is overwhelming but I can do it.” Young and young adult Friends spoke deeply of the condition of a continuum of sexual and gender identities and the urgent necessity of a place of full and unconditional love and acceptance to call forth one’s true self. They spoke of the blessing of a safe space where they could be fully known, of the feeling that FLGBTQC was a place where there was no “card check,” where all were welcome, warts and all, where they could bring their whole selves forward.
We also know our own stories of the pain it inflicts when radical love and inclusion are absent – experienced within this community and others. We know that we have work to do to more faithfully practice radical love and inclusion with people of color and Young Adult Friends and Young Friends, and those who may yearn for but not be aware of or have access to our community.
We ask for the prayers of all Friends everywhere as we do our work, and we ask you, as way opens, to support us and join with us in our struggle. We offer you our unfolding witness and testimony to the power of radical love and inclusion in this community and an invitation to join in this experience at gatherings in the future. Co-clerks can be reached via telephone at 267-270-2315 or email at flgbtqc@gmail.com. Our website is http://flgbtqc.quaker.org/.
On behalf of Friends for Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender and Queer Concerns,
Deborah Fisch, Co-Clerk
Kody Hersh, Co-Clerk
* Many people who identify as neither men nor women prefer to be referred to by non-gendered pronouns, and this attender is among those people. The word "hir" in this case is grammatically equivalent to "her" as the possessive ("this is hir [item]") and object form ("I gave it to hir") but carries no connotation of a female or male gender.
Wednesday, 2 March 2011
Query on grief and support
How do we bear witness to, and support each other through, griefs which society doesn't usually recognize or honor?
What are some examples of these kinds of grief?
What are some examples of these kinds of grief?
Wednesday, 23 June 2010
American crows, Northwest crows, and ravens
On my recent trip to Seabeck, WA, at low tide on Seabeck Bay, I spent some time in Meeting for Worship with Attention to Shore Birds. More on that wonder later, with pictures, I hope.
Some of those birds were crows; and I commented on an email list recently about how much more gregarious crows are in the Pacific Northwest of the US than they are in the Mid-Atlantic. Someone asked, Might they have been ravens?
I was pretty sure they weren't -- they didn't look enough different from crows, for one -- but this did prompt me to go do some research, especially at U Mich's Animal Diversity Web. Which, among other things, often has great recordings of bird calls.
Yes, there's a difference between the American crows I grew up with in the East, and the Northwest crows I became friends with in Seattle and visited with there and on the Kitsap Peninsula this trip. And neither of them are ravens.
Here's what I found. Enjoy!
Northwest crow:
Here's how they sound, which caused me to say, "Yep! That's them!":
American crow:
_RWD.jpg)
Common raven:
Thursday, 12 November 2009
Veterans Day, Armistice Day
Thinking about my own attitudes towards and beliefs about war, the Peace Testimony, and how people have reacted to the support I've expressed today for Armed Forces service members... I thought I might re-post this piece about how I found an expression of the Peace Testimony through service to military families.
The Peace Testimony and Armed Forces Emergency Services
The Peace Testimony and Armed Forces Emergency Services
It’s 3:45 am when my pager wakes me. I speak to a man who is quite upset: his sister has just died – at the end of a long illness, but unexpectedly soon – and his sister’s son is on active duty in the military, stationed overseas. The caller needs to get a message to... (more)
Friday, 18 September 2009
My F/friend Jana, update 3
Jana continues to improve!
Highlights include: she is able to eat some on her own; her cognitive skills are improving; she has been able to hold somewhat longer conversations and use words and phrases from other languages in context.
So, she still has a long road, but she's well on her way, and I'm grateful.
Blessed be.
Highlights include: she is able to eat some on her own; her cognitive skills are improving; she has been able to hold somewhat longer conversations and use words and phrases from other languages in context.
So, she still has a long road, but she's well on her way, and I'm grateful.
Blessed be.
Thursday, 6 August 2009
Outward signs of inward grace (and truth, and transformation)
This weekend at Meeting for Worship with Attention to Business, my Monthly Meeting approved my membership, and later approved a revised letter of introduction and support for my ministry.
Wow.
I am still settling in to how this feels. Do I feel different? If so, how?
-----------
This has been, and continues to be, a powerful journey.
The experience of my entire membership process in this Meeting has been such a gift.
I feel known, loved, and respected in this Meeting, and yet the membership process has still been hard: challenging for me personally, and hard work for me, for my clearness committee, and for my Meeting.
But my Meeting has been right here with me, has met me with openness and grace, with openness to grace, with a commitment to Quaker process and to asking how we're led. With a commitment to talking about the elephants in the living room, about spiritual and thea/ological diversity, about the fact that I'm moving across the country soon. With a commitment to understanding, as much as another human being can, well enough to explain it to someone else: What do these words mean to you when you use them? What is your lived experience? How does the Spirit move in your life? With a commitment to asking, and seeking to answer, What other gifts that we don't know about yet do you bring to the Meeting? How can and does the Meeting support your spiritual life and spiritual growth? How might this work?
People keep telling me how much my openness, honesty, and forthrightness have helped this process, and that my membership request has been a gift for the Meeting. I have tried to help those who tell me that understand -- all my openness in the world would have meant nothing if the Meeting hadn't been able to meet me with its own openness. This is a gift, and a grace. It has sustained me and blessed me.
From the very beginning with my clearness committee, I felt their deep commitment to Quaker process and to coming to know me. I felt held. Over the course of our meetings, I was able to move to a place beyond fear of judgement -- not just here, but among other Friends. What a difference this has made in so many areas of my life!
When I read my clearness committee's report to the Oversight Committee, it was amazing. They got it. They understood.
And, they could explain it to other people.
That was powerful.
As the process continued to unfold, I moved from feeling held by my clearness committee, to feeling held by the Oversight Committee and the Clerk of the Meeting, to feeling held by my Meeting.
It was from this place that I went into my ministry at FGC Gathering. And the amazing and wonderful support from my Meeting -- the members of my ministry oversight committee, my elder for my ministry at Gathering, but also the way I felt held by my Meeting as a whole -- enabled me, first, to move beyond my previous limits as a workshop leader, and second, to meet a whole new slew of challenges I never could have anticipated. To be faithful and to stretch and grow beyond where I'd been before.
I was held.
I am reminded of something Ben Pink Dandelion said in his plenary talk at FGC Gathering: "How much have we changed, or allowed ourselves to be changed, by the Holy Spirit?"
To be engaged in a spiritual life means being open to transformation -- means being open to being changed by the Holy Spirit. To be engaged fully in a living Quakerism means being open to transformation and change.
To magic.
This year, I have been changed and transformed. It has not been an easy process, but it has been a joyful one -- each unfolding has brought greater expansion of my heart and spirit, deeper rootedness, more tenderness. Less contraction. More joy.
In my membership process, I have been transformed. In ways that have helped me be more faithfully myself.
In our Meeting, the proposed member stays in the room during the reading of their letter and the Oversight Committee's report. The second Meeting for Business, the proposed member then leaves the room during worship around their proposed membership.
It took a long time.
I understand that part of why is because a fair number of Friends stood and gave vocal ministry -- about their transformation and change, about faithfulness, about ways in which my proposed membership challenged them and why they now felt we had to approve it, about how issues around my membership are similar to other issues the Meeting has dealt with before with other memberships, about how issues around my membership are different than others the Meeting has dealt with... and, I think most of all, about the ways in which I've been as fully present as I could with the Meeting during my time here.
In the worship later in the day, around the revised letter of introduction and support for my ministry, there was some wordsmithing which made it a more powerful, more true letter.
One of the things that has kept coming back to me, in the days since Sunday, is the suggestion of one particular Friend. This is someone from whom I've never felt any disrespect or ill-feeling, and yet who has been completely open with me that my ministry and my language have made them uncomfortable.
At Yearly Meeting, which was between the first and second readings of my proposed membership, they sought me out to talk. And we had the kind of chewy conversation that feels like true community. It was wonderful.
In Business Meeting this weekend, when we were discussing the revisions to my letter, this Friend's suggestion -- that the word "faithfulness" be added to the description of me -- struck me right in the heart.
Home.
-----------
So, I'm a member of the Religious Society of Friends now. Do I feel different? If so, how?
I have been thinking about when Beloved Wife and I got married. We didn't feel much different at first, in part because it was true, our wedding was an outward sign of inward grace, of inward truth: our marriage.
But something did change pretty dramatically almost immediately: our relationship with our community. I still don't know quite how to put it all into words, but part of it is that now our relationship belonged to everyone who cares about us. We still bore primary responsibility, but our community -- our families, our spiritual communities, our friends, everyone who cares about us -- their own kind of responsibility was now explicit. Especially in the signing of our certificate.
Oversight's report recommending my membership spoke about my membership as an outward sign of an inward truth. If that's the case, how does the formal recognition change things?
I don't know entirely yet.
But I'm also reminded of something my F/friend Vonn said at FGC Gathering, during a long conversation about life and ministry. Vonn talked about how, when you get a minute of religious service from your Monthly and Yearly Meetings, it's amazing; your ministry no longer belongs just to you.
"Um, in a good way or a bad way?" I asked. (The thought made me nervous.)
"Oh, it's totally amazing," she breathed.
I feel owned. In a good way. Claimed. I belong to them. The ownership of this relationship definitely goes both ways.
In terms of ministry, they will help me, as they have all along, listen so that I may be faithful to the leadings of the Goddess.
This Meeting is home.
But I think I should ask that question again -- So, do I feel different? How? -- after my welcome dinner. :)
Wow.
I am still settling in to how this feels. Do I feel different? If so, how?
-----------
This has been, and continues to be, a powerful journey.
The experience of my entire membership process in this Meeting has been such a gift.
I feel known, loved, and respected in this Meeting, and yet the membership process has still been hard: challenging for me personally, and hard work for me, for my clearness committee, and for my Meeting.
But my Meeting has been right here with me, has met me with openness and grace, with openness to grace, with a commitment to Quaker process and to asking how we're led. With a commitment to talking about the elephants in the living room, about spiritual and thea/ological diversity, about the fact that I'm moving across the country soon. With a commitment to understanding, as much as another human being can, well enough to explain it to someone else: What do these words mean to you when you use them? What is your lived experience? How does the Spirit move in your life? With a commitment to asking, and seeking to answer, What other gifts that we don't know about yet do you bring to the Meeting? How can and does the Meeting support your spiritual life and spiritual growth? How might this work?
People keep telling me how much my openness, honesty, and forthrightness have helped this process, and that my membership request has been a gift for the Meeting. I have tried to help those who tell me that understand -- all my openness in the world would have meant nothing if the Meeting hadn't been able to meet me with its own openness. This is a gift, and a grace. It has sustained me and blessed me.
From the very beginning with my clearness committee, I felt their deep commitment to Quaker process and to coming to know me. I felt held. Over the course of our meetings, I was able to move to a place beyond fear of judgement -- not just here, but among other Friends. What a difference this has made in so many areas of my life!
When I read my clearness committee's report to the Oversight Committee, it was amazing. They got it. They understood.
And, they could explain it to other people.
That was powerful.
As the process continued to unfold, I moved from feeling held by my clearness committee, to feeling held by the Oversight Committee and the Clerk of the Meeting, to feeling held by my Meeting.
It was from this place that I went into my ministry at FGC Gathering. And the amazing and wonderful support from my Meeting -- the members of my ministry oversight committee, my elder for my ministry at Gathering, but also the way I felt held by my Meeting as a whole -- enabled me, first, to move beyond my previous limits as a workshop leader, and second, to meet a whole new slew of challenges I never could have anticipated. To be faithful and to stretch and grow beyond where I'd been before.
I was held.
I am reminded of something Ben Pink Dandelion said in his plenary talk at FGC Gathering: "How much have we changed, or allowed ourselves to be changed, by the Holy Spirit?"
To be engaged in a spiritual life means being open to transformation -- means being open to being changed by the Holy Spirit. To be engaged fully in a living Quakerism means being open to transformation and change.
To magic.
This year, I have been changed and transformed. It has not been an easy process, but it has been a joyful one -- each unfolding has brought greater expansion of my heart and spirit, deeper rootedness, more tenderness. Less contraction. More joy.
In my membership process, I have been transformed. In ways that have helped me be more faithfully myself.
In our Meeting, the proposed member stays in the room during the reading of their letter and the Oversight Committee's report. The second Meeting for Business, the proposed member then leaves the room during worship around their proposed membership.
It took a long time.
I understand that part of why is because a fair number of Friends stood and gave vocal ministry -- about their transformation and change, about faithfulness, about ways in which my proposed membership challenged them and why they now felt we had to approve it, about how issues around my membership are similar to other issues the Meeting has dealt with before with other memberships, about how issues around my membership are different than others the Meeting has dealt with... and, I think most of all, about the ways in which I've been as fully present as I could with the Meeting during my time here.
In the worship later in the day, around the revised letter of introduction and support for my ministry, there was some wordsmithing which made it a more powerful, more true letter.
One of the things that has kept coming back to me, in the days since Sunday, is the suggestion of one particular Friend. This is someone from whom I've never felt any disrespect or ill-feeling, and yet who has been completely open with me that my ministry and my language have made them uncomfortable.
At Yearly Meeting, which was between the first and second readings of my proposed membership, they sought me out to talk. And we had the kind of chewy conversation that feels like true community. It was wonderful.
In Business Meeting this weekend, when we were discussing the revisions to my letter, this Friend's suggestion -- that the word "faithfulness" be added to the description of me -- struck me right in the heart.
Home.
-----------
So, I'm a member of the Religious Society of Friends now. Do I feel different? If so, how?
I have been thinking about when Beloved Wife and I got married. We didn't feel much different at first, in part because it was true, our wedding was an outward sign of inward grace, of inward truth: our marriage.
But something did change pretty dramatically almost immediately: our relationship with our community. I still don't know quite how to put it all into words, but part of it is that now our relationship belonged to everyone who cares about us. We still bore primary responsibility, but our community -- our families, our spiritual communities, our friends, everyone who cares about us -- their own kind of responsibility was now explicit. Especially in the signing of our certificate.
Oversight's report recommending my membership spoke about my membership as an outward sign of an inward truth. If that's the case, how does the formal recognition change things?
I don't know entirely yet.
But I'm also reminded of something my F/friend Vonn said at FGC Gathering, during a long conversation about life and ministry. Vonn talked about how, when you get a minute of religious service from your Monthly and Yearly Meetings, it's amazing; your ministry no longer belongs just to you.
"Um, in a good way or a bad way?" I asked. (The thought made me nervous.)
"Oh, it's totally amazing," she breathed.
I feel owned. In a good way. Claimed. I belong to them. The ownership of this relationship definitely goes both ways.
In terms of ministry, they will help me, as they have all along, listen so that I may be faithful to the leadings of the Goddess.
This Meeting is home.
But I think I should ask that question again -- So, do I feel different? How? -- after my welcome dinner. :)
Friday, 19 June 2009
The growth of political violence in the United States
I have been working on this entry for several days. Today I learned of the murders of most of the members of the Flores family in a home invasion by members of an anti-immmigration vigilante group. - sm
When I was an undergraduate, in the late 80s and early 90s, I rather unexpectedly did a lot of research on terrorism.
At UMBC, I started to understand not only what a loaded word "terrorism" is, but how culturally programmed. The professors who team-taught my political science class in Third World Politics challenged us to pay attention whenever we heard or read the word "terrorism" being used -- to notice who was using it, and whom they were describing. In addition, they challenged us to replace the term "terrorism" with the term "political violence" whenever we read it or heard it, and see what that did to our thinking and perceptions.
When I got back to Bryn Mawr, I took social psychology with Clark McCauley, one of whose specialties is the study of terrorism/political violence. Also an eye-opening experience.
You have to understand, this was before September 11, 2001. The majority of what Americans called "terrorism" back then was divided into two kinds: "terrorism from above," or state-sponsored terrorism, and "terrorism from below," or guerilla warfare/terrorism. The places Americans talked about this happening in were in the "First World" and the "Third World" -- the Middle East, Africa, Europe, South and Central America. Not the US -- not yet.
But my point is that we talked about both kinds. The political violence of guerrilla groups in Lebanon, Nicaragua, Iran, El Salvador, and the Occupied Palestinian Territories populated the news, as terrorism-from-below. But state-sponsored political violence -- particularly from repressive regimes and military governments such as the Soviet Union, East Germany, and El Salvador -- was recognized as terrorism-from-above back then. The massacre in Tiananmen Square made huge news in the West. The terrorism of the Soviet Union was still active in the news through the late 80s. Even the shootings at Kent State were still understood as state-sponsored terrorism. I could go on.
Nowadays, when we talk about "terrorism," we talk primarily about violence-from-below, rather than about state-sponsored terrorism. And we very often talk about religious extremists. But they're usually people who are either far away or from far away, whose skin is not white, and who are not Christians.
We rarely talk about people right here in the US whose political violence should rightly be called terrorism -- especially not if they are are white, right-wing, or supposedly Christian.
In the summer of 1992, I worked with McCauley doing preliminary research that was part of a larger project of his, on the question of what helps prevent violence-from-below in political movements. Many political movements start out espousing non-violence, but many of them come to resort to violent tactics -- against first property, and then people. What makes that change acceptable to some groups but not others? What factors protect or insulate a movement against that change?
He wanted me to study a group that, unlike the New Left and the environmental movement, was still non-violent, and had an unprecedented paper trail -- the ecofeminist movement.
(I pretty much said to him: I'm a feminist, and I'm a Witch, and you want me to spend three months reading eco-feminism and related material, writing about it, and talking with you about it. Twist. My. Arm.)
So I read a lot of primary materials from the New Left, the anti-nuclear movement, different aspects of the environmental movement, the women's spirituality movement, and eco-feminism.
The ecofeminist movement, it turned out, didn't meet all of the requirements for McCauley's larger project -- for one thing, a great many of the movers and shakers of the ecofeminist movement had been previously involved in the New Left, and many ecofeminists were part of the anti-nuclear movement.
(Reading Robin Morgan's accounts of her time in the New Left was... illustrative. Interestingly, she also went on to write about terrorism and political violence.)
But, the ecofeminist movement did provide some useful insights. As, in a way, did the New Left, by contrast.
In all the material I read, one thing stood out over and over as a protective against the development of violence in a political movement:
Refusing to dehumanize the enemy.
Not only did the eco-feminist movement consistently refuse to demonize the enemy, its adherents insisted on finding ways to see opponents as human, as real people -- and even as an embodiment of the Divine. It could be something as simple as going around a circle at the end of the day in an action, each participant naming something that emphasized the human quality of someone with whom they'd come into conflict that day. It could be making sure to address a police officer or soldier by name, not merely title or rank. It could be making a practice of asking opponents about their families. It often included ritual and magic, and could be as intimate and formal as taking time in circle to name "enemies" and affirm, "Sergeant Jones, thou art God," "Jane Smith, thou art Goddess," as well as naming allies and those present, affirming, "Sara, thou art Goddess," "Tom, thou art God."
Why am I writing about this now?
A Friend of mine shared a link to an interview with David Neiwert about violence in political movements and about his new book, The Eliminationists: How Hate Talk Radicalized the American Right. (Click here for publisher's web site.)
Neiwert discusses recent terrorism in the United States: in the wake of the suppression of a Department of Homeland Security report warning about a potential upsurge of right-wing political violence, we have the assassination of an abortion provider, the uncovering of a plot to assassinate President Obama, and a killing at the Holocaust Museum. [And now, the murder of a family of Hispanic immigrants.]
And Neiwert also talks about the factors that encourage that political violence/terrorism, and some ways to resist it.
As I've been reading the interview, I've found myself saying to myself, Yes, yes, yes.
Some things that have stood out to me:
This is one reason I react strongly whenever I hear anyone refer to cops as "pigs." I grew up in a large city that had problems with police violence; it's not naivete on my part. I've also worked with amazing people in law enforcement during my humanitarian work. But calling cops "pigs" -- or calling union-busters, or even anti-choice murderers or anti-immigrant murderers "pigs" -- is not okay with me, because it's dehumanization. Seeing cops, even security guards, as "pigs" is part of what sent the New Left down the slippery slope from non-violence to violence. Dehumanization opens a door in the psyche to violence.
I am reminded of the collective response of the San Francisco gay community on the night of the murders of Harvey Milk and George Moscone, and of Holly Near's song "Gentle Angry People":
I am reminded of my peace witness trip to the Middle East. I am reminded of successful reconciliation work I've witnessed and learned of, in the US and abroad, between family members, political enemies, and survivors and perpetrators of violence.
Neiwert talks about the importance of engagement, of not demonizing the enemy -- and of not heroizing one's self:
The kind of engagement that Neiwert and other activists for peace, justice, and non-violence are talking about is hard work. It requires a particular combination, of an open heart and self-protection, and that does not necessarily come easily.
But it can be learned, it can be supported, it can be done -- and it can create change.
What are we going to do -- you, and I -- to contribute towards this kind of engagement, this kind of change?
How are we creating magic?
How are we nourishing openings to grace?
How are we nourishing That-of-God and That-of-the-Goddess in each other?
What are we doing to prevent violence?
When I was an undergraduate, in the late 80s and early 90s, I rather unexpectedly did a lot of research on terrorism.
At UMBC, I started to understand not only what a loaded word "terrorism" is, but how culturally programmed. The professors who team-taught my political science class in Third World Politics challenged us to pay attention whenever we heard or read the word "terrorism" being used -- to notice who was using it, and whom they were describing. In addition, they challenged us to replace the term "terrorism" with the term "political violence" whenever we read it or heard it, and see what that did to our thinking and perceptions.
When I got back to Bryn Mawr, I took social psychology with Clark McCauley, one of whose specialties is the study of terrorism/political violence. Also an eye-opening experience.
You have to understand, this was before September 11, 2001. The majority of what Americans called "terrorism" back then was divided into two kinds: "terrorism from above," or state-sponsored terrorism, and "terrorism from below," or guerilla warfare/terrorism. The places Americans talked about this happening in were in the "First World" and the "Third World" -- the Middle East, Africa, Europe, South and Central America. Not the US -- not yet.
But my point is that we talked about both kinds. The political violence of guerrilla groups in Lebanon, Nicaragua, Iran, El Salvador, and the Occupied Palestinian Territories populated the news, as terrorism-from-below. But state-sponsored political violence -- particularly from repressive regimes and military governments such as the Soviet Union, East Germany, and El Salvador -- was recognized as terrorism-from-above back then. The massacre in Tiananmen Square made huge news in the West. The terrorism of the Soviet Union was still active in the news through the late 80s. Even the shootings at Kent State were still understood as state-sponsored terrorism. I could go on.
Nowadays, when we talk about "terrorism," we talk primarily about violence-from-below, rather than about state-sponsored terrorism. And we very often talk about religious extremists. But they're usually people who are either far away or from far away, whose skin is not white, and who are not Christians.
We rarely talk about people right here in the US whose political violence should rightly be called terrorism -- especially not if they are are white, right-wing, or supposedly Christian.
In the summer of 1992, I worked with McCauley doing preliminary research that was part of a larger project of his, on the question of what helps prevent violence-from-below in political movements. Many political movements start out espousing non-violence, but many of them come to resort to violent tactics -- against first property, and then people. What makes that change acceptable to some groups but not others? What factors protect or insulate a movement against that change?
He wanted me to study a group that, unlike the New Left and the environmental movement, was still non-violent, and had an unprecedented paper trail -- the ecofeminist movement.
(I pretty much said to him: I'm a feminist, and I'm a Witch, and you want me to spend three months reading eco-feminism and related material, writing about it, and talking with you about it. Twist. My. Arm.)
So I read a lot of primary materials from the New Left, the anti-nuclear movement, different aspects of the environmental movement, the women's spirituality movement, and eco-feminism.
The ecofeminist movement, it turned out, didn't meet all of the requirements for McCauley's larger project -- for one thing, a great many of the movers and shakers of the ecofeminist movement had been previously involved in the New Left, and many ecofeminists were part of the anti-nuclear movement.
(Reading Robin Morgan's accounts of her time in the New Left was... illustrative. Interestingly, she also went on to write about terrorism and political violence.)
But, the ecofeminist movement did provide some useful insights. As, in a way, did the New Left, by contrast.
In all the material I read, one thing stood out over and over as a protective against the development of violence in a political movement:
Refusing to dehumanize the enemy.
Not only did the eco-feminist movement consistently refuse to demonize the enemy, its adherents insisted on finding ways to see opponents as human, as real people -- and even as an embodiment of the Divine. It could be something as simple as going around a circle at the end of the day in an action, each participant naming something that emphasized the human quality of someone with whom they'd come into conflict that day. It could be making sure to address a police officer or soldier by name, not merely title or rank. It could be making a practice of asking opponents about their families. It often included ritual and magic, and could be as intimate and formal as taking time in circle to name "enemies" and affirm, "Sergeant Jones, thou art God," "Jane Smith, thou art Goddess," as well as naming allies and those present, affirming, "Sara, thou art Goddess," "Tom, thou art God."
Why am I writing about this now?
A Friend of mine shared a link to an interview with David Neiwert about violence in political movements and about his new book, The Eliminationists: How Hate Talk Radicalized the American Right. (Click here for publisher's web site.)
Neiwert discusses recent terrorism in the United States: in the wake of the suppression of a Department of Homeland Security report warning about a potential upsurge of right-wing political violence, we have the assassination of an abortion provider, the uncovering of a plot to assassinate President Obama, and a killing at the Holocaust Museum. [And now, the murder of a family of Hispanic immigrants.]
And Neiwert also talks about the factors that encourage that political violence/terrorism, and some ways to resist it.
As I've been reading the interview, I've found myself saying to myself, Yes, yes, yes.
Some things that have stood out to me:
Joshua Holland: There is a lot of ugly discourse in this country, and there always has been. What makes eliminationist rhetoric different from the kind of run-of-the-mill nasty stuff that we see on all sides of the political spectrum?Something I saw over and over in my research for McCauley's project was that when groups start seeing opponents or members of other groups as not-human, that's when violence becomes acceptable. And starting to lump opponents together into groups, rather than seeing individuals, contributes to this.
David Neiwert: Right -- there is a lot of hateful rhetoric that floats around on both sides. What's unique about eliminationist rhetoric is that it talks about eliminating whole blocs of people from the body politic, whereas most of the hateful rhetoric, in the case of people on the left, is directed at an individual -- George Bush or Dick Cheney and various characters on the right. That's one of the key differences -- when right-wing people talk hatefully, it often is directed at entire groups of people: Latinos, African Americans, gays and lesbians or liberals.
JH: People they deem to be inferior.
DN: Deemed inferior, or not even human. That is a critical aspect of eliminationist rhetoric. It often depicts the opposition as subhuman -- comparing them with vermin, diseases or carriers of diseases. I think for me the classic historical expression of eliminationism in America was Col. [John] Chivington's remarks prior to the Sand Creek Massacre, where he urged the white Colorado militiamen to kill all the Indians they encountered, including women and children. He said, "nits make lice." That to me is pretty much a classic eliminationist statement.
This is one reason I react strongly whenever I hear anyone refer to cops as "pigs." I grew up in a large city that had problems with police violence; it's not naivete on my part. I've also worked with amazing people in law enforcement during my humanitarian work. But calling cops "pigs" -- or calling union-busters, or even anti-choice murderers or anti-immigrant murderers "pigs" -- is not okay with me, because it's dehumanization. Seeing cops, even security guards, as "pigs" is part of what sent the New Left down the slippery slope from non-violence to violence. Dehumanization opens a door in the psyche to violence.
One of the things that I learned while studying hate crimes is that the vast majority of hate crimes are committed by ordinary people, not by members of hate groups. Yet it's also the case that the vast majority of hate crimes are accompanied by hate-group rhetoric. So in a lot of ways hate crimes are a manifestation of the way right-wing extremism has permeated the broader culture. But more than that, these ordinary people also believe -- and I might add this includes the white supremacists -- that what they are doing reflects the secret desires, the unspoken wishes of the community that they believe they are defending.I am reminded of the power of collective action. I am reminded of a recent article in the New York Times, "At Last, Facing Down Bullies (And Their Enablers)," which talks about the pioneering and successful work of Dr. Dan Olweus in mobilizing bystanders to counteract and prevent bullying.
When you stand up to them, when you engage in the act of standing up to them, that knocks that plank right out from under them, because when the community stands up and says, "No, these are not our values, this is not what we believe in, what you are doing is wrong," that takes that belief away.
I am reminded of the collective response of the San Francisco gay community on the night of the murders of Harvey Milk and George Moscone, and of Holly Near's song "Gentle Angry People":
We are a gentle, angry people
And we are singing, singing for our lives...
I am reminded of my peace witness trip to the Middle East. I am reminded of successful reconciliation work I've witnessed and learned of, in the US and abroad, between family members, political enemies, and survivors and perpetrators of violence.
Neiwert talks about the importance of engagement, of not demonizing the enemy -- and of not heroizing one's self:
So when we engage them, I think it is fundamentally important that we try not to see ourselves as heroes, that we don't turn them into the enemy but rather people like us, human beings who have frailties and have flaws and engage them in a real way, because that is how we are going to pull them over.
We are not going to change people's minds by pointing at them and calling them bad people. We are going to change people's minds by taking care to honestly engage them as one human being to another. That is the only way I think that we really can succeed.
The kind of engagement that Neiwert and other activists for peace, justice, and non-violence are talking about is hard work. It requires a particular combination, of an open heart and self-protection, and that does not necessarily come easily.
But it can be learned, it can be supported, it can be done -- and it can create change.
What are we going to do -- you, and I -- to contribute towards this kind of engagement, this kind of change?
How are we creating magic?
How are we nourishing openings to grace?
How are we nourishing That-of-God and That-of-the-Goddess in each other?
What are we doing to prevent violence?
Friday, 12 June 2009
Held by my Meeting
In the last six weeks or so, I have been feeling incredibly held by my Meeting.
Some of it was being on the planning committee for Meeting for Grieving and Healing. Some of it has been another clearness process with which I've been engaged with the Meeting. Some of it has been my ministry oversight committee. Some of it has been my Faith and Practice study group. All of these have been opportunities for me to be in community; to nurture, develop, and be present with my connections with Friends and the Meeting as a whole; to minister; and to worship with Friends in deep ways.
This weekend at Meeting for Worship with Attention to Business, we are going to tackle two interesting and potentially challenging issues (that I know of), both of which I have strong feelings about. And I'm looking forward to it.
It's not that my Meeting is perfect. In the last ten months, I've witnessed some of the ways in which we've fallen down on our job of being in community with each other. But I've also witnessed some openings I've not seen in the other Monthly Meetings I've been part of. I've witnessed daring love and ministry. I've witnessed integrity. I've witnessed the Meeting as a whole being able to hold seemingly contradictory truths at the same time without diminishing either or denying the seeming contradiction. I've witnessed elephants in the living room (Meeting room?) being named and addressed with a minimum of drama.
Most of all, for me, I have come to feel known.
Writing that, it strikes me that my major complaint about our itinerant life has been that feeling of not being known. Not being seen, recognized, understood, and known for myself, for me, for who I am. That's something I've missed desperately from my life in Philadelphia. And yet, I was ready to leave Philadelphia for a short time, for many reasons -- one of which was that there were definitely ways in which I felt like people were seeing me through old lenses, and I thought leaving and coming back might help change that. As well as provide me some opportunities to grow. (But I sure thought my time away would be shorter! This has all been much different than what I expected.)
In Ann Arbor, particularly my last spring there, I started to feel known for myself in the context of a small handful of people, mostly related to Judaism, music, and dance. That was such a blessing.
But I have never felt as known, or as held, by a Meeting community as I do right now, or felt how much that can affect my life.
I don't know what's going to happen in Meeting for Worship with Attention to Business this First Day. I don't know what's going to happen in the workshop I'm leading at Gathering in two weeks. (How many people? How many taking it precisely because they're uncomfortable? Is my workshop going to merge with the high school women's Goddess workshop or not?) I don't know where Beloved Wife and I are looking for our next apartment, or what combination of things I'm going to be doing this fall.
But I am not afraid.
Because I can tell that I am held.
And it's powerful.
Some of it was being on the planning committee for Meeting for Grieving and Healing. Some of it has been another clearness process with which I've been engaged with the Meeting. Some of it has been my ministry oversight committee. Some of it has been my Faith and Practice study group. All of these have been opportunities for me to be in community; to nurture, develop, and be present with my connections with Friends and the Meeting as a whole; to minister; and to worship with Friends in deep ways.
This weekend at Meeting for Worship with Attention to Business, we are going to tackle two interesting and potentially challenging issues (that I know of), both of which I have strong feelings about. And I'm looking forward to it.
It's not that my Meeting is perfect. In the last ten months, I've witnessed some of the ways in which we've fallen down on our job of being in community with each other. But I've also witnessed some openings I've not seen in the other Monthly Meetings I've been part of. I've witnessed daring love and ministry. I've witnessed integrity. I've witnessed the Meeting as a whole being able to hold seemingly contradictory truths at the same time without diminishing either or denying the seeming contradiction. I've witnessed elephants in the living room (Meeting room?) being named and addressed with a minimum of drama.
Most of all, for me, I have come to feel known.
Writing that, it strikes me that my major complaint about our itinerant life has been that feeling of not being known. Not being seen, recognized, understood, and known for myself, for me, for who I am. That's something I've missed desperately from my life in Philadelphia. And yet, I was ready to leave Philadelphia for a short time, for many reasons -- one of which was that there were definitely ways in which I felt like people were seeing me through old lenses, and I thought leaving and coming back might help change that. As well as provide me some opportunities to grow. (But I sure thought my time away would be shorter! This has all been much different than what I expected.)
In Ann Arbor, particularly my last spring there, I started to feel known for myself in the context of a small handful of people, mostly related to Judaism, music, and dance. That was such a blessing.
But I have never felt as known, or as held, by a Meeting community as I do right now, or felt how much that can affect my life.
I don't know what's going to happen in Meeting for Worship with Attention to Business this First Day. I don't know what's going to happen in the workshop I'm leading at Gathering in two weeks. (How many people? How many taking it precisely because they're uncomfortable? Is my workshop going to merge with the high school women's Goddess workshop or not?) I don't know where Beloved Wife and I are looking for our next apartment, or what combination of things I'm going to be doing this fall.
But I am not afraid.
Because I can tell that I am held.
And it's powerful.
Monday, 25 May 2009
The Peace Testimony and Armed Forces Emergency Services
This article appeared in the July, 2008 issue of Friends Journal. An earlier version appeared here. I am re-posting it, in part, in honor of Memorial Day. - sm
Disclaimer: The opinions and beliefs stated in this article are those of the author only. They do not reflect the opinions, beliefs, or positions of the American Red Cross. This article is not endorsed by the American Red Cross.
------------------------------
It’s 3:45 am when my pager wakes me. I speak to a man who is quite upset: his sister has just died – at the end of a long illness, but unexpectedly soon – and his sister’s son is on active duty in the military, stationed overseas. The caller needs to get a message to the nephew through the Red Cross so the young man can get leave for his mother’s funeral. I walk the caller through giving me all the information I need – his sister’s information, the hospice information, his nephew’s name, social security number, and military address – and promise him I’ll get back to him just as soon as I can. I call the hospice agency and page the hospice nurse, who confirms the date, time, and cause of death. I send the message through the Red Cross system and call the man back to tell him the message has been sent and that we requested that his nephew call him as soon as he receives it. I explain that because his nephew is in Iraq and the activity level there is very high right now, it may take longer for the message to go through and he may not hear from his nephew for several days.*
I’m driving home from work when my pager goes off. I pull over and talk to a woman whose son was just in a motor vehicle accident and is near death. She is very calm. She wants her daughter to come home so the family can all decide together about taking him off life support. I talk to the charge nurse in the ICU and gather all the information that command will need to decide whether or not to grant leave, including the medical team’s recommendation for the service member’s presence. I send the message, then let the family know that it’s on its way, and that I requested that a chaplain be present when the sister is notified.
I’m eating dinner when the pager beeps. I speak to a woman who’s in active labor at a local hospital and is about to give birth. She gives me her husband’s information between contractions and then passes the phone to her father-in-law when she can no longer speak. I apologetically explain I can’t send the message until the baby’s born. Her father-in-law chuckles. “Don’t worry, they’re wheeling her into delivery now!” By the time I talk to someone on staff for the verification, the baby’s been born and I can send the notification. The delighted new grandpa answers the cell phone when I call back to say the message has been sent.
------------------------------
*To protect confidentiality, none of this information comes from actual cases. These situations are compiled from typical kinds of cases.
------------------------------
I volunteer with the American Red Cross, an organization which provides humanitarian relief and assistance under a variety of circumstances. I’m active in two areas: Disaster Relief, and Armed Forces Emergency Services (AFES). As an AFES volunteer, I mostly work with military families to get emergency messages to active-duty service members: an illness or accident, death, other emergency situation, birth.
As a Friend, I first got involved with the Red Cross through Disaster Services just after September 11, 2001. Like so many of us, I had a deep need to do something – something to help, and something that expressed the Peace Testimony. What I did was answer phones, all day, every day. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was needed, and it freed up experienced, trained volunteers to go out in the field.
After Hurricane Katrina, I again found myself raging at the news, and again felt that need to do something. So I thought I’d go answer phones again. But because I have experience as a pastoral counselor and case manager and the need was so great, the local Chapter asked me to go to the Gulf Coast instead.
Five weeks after the disaster, at just one service center, in just one town, my fellow volunteers and I saw and spoke with thousands of people every day. None of us could “fix” anything for them. True, we could help them apply for financial assistance. True, we could try to connect them with services. But we couldn’t repair their lives.
Mostly, what we could do was just be there with them.
It turned out our simple presence meant much more than financial assistance to many people. “You came from where? To be here with us?”
“But you’re not getting paid?!”
“What about your family?”
“Thank you for coming down here.”
“I haven’t told anybody what happened, and it’s been more than a month.”
“We thought nobody cared about us.”
I already knew what a difference it made for me to have someone simply be with me when I was going through hard times. In Mississippi, I learned yet again that bearing witness is sacred work.
When I returned from my deployment, I stayed involved with my local Red Cross Chapter, mostly responding to local disasters. I learned it also makes a big difference to people when they know they’re not alone just after a house fire, tornado, or flood. One elderly resident of an apartment house which had been completely evacuated in the middle of the night said, “Because you all were there, we weren’t afraid.”
But then my supervisor asked me to get involved with Armed Forces Emergency Services. Our department was short-staffed, and she said I had a good background for the work. I was a little dubious about this. As a Friend, as someone who doesn’t support this war, how would I feel talking to military families in crisis? And could I do so without offering them short shrift? (Integrity. Peace.) But as a volunteer, I was there to do whatever needed to be done, so I said I’d try.
I kept thinking of a F/friend whose brother is a Marine. I kept thinking of my own surrogate brother, who’s a Marine, too.
Over time, doing AFES casework became as much an expression of the Peace Testimony for me as Disaster Relief work. I don't know that I have good words to explain how being part of providing this service, providing this ministry of presence, is, for me, a way of walking the Peace Testimony in the world; but I will try.
Let me start with the seven Fundamental Principles of the International Red Cross/Red Crescent Movement: Humanity. Impartiality. Neutrality. Independence. Voluntary Service. Unity. Universality.
I know. They sound like a bunch of very dry words. And yet each one of those Principles is quite real. Each one provides concrete guidance to Red Crossers. Each one helps me put my Quaker beliefs and convictions into action as part of a larger, completely secular, organization, side-by-side with non-Friends. Each one lets me work closely with other people who have very strong convictions, and who in ordinary life might not think we have anything at all in common.
The Fundamental Principles help us do sacred work together.
I find one key, one link, to the Peace Testimony in the Fundamental Principles. Take, for example, Humanity. With each AFES case I work, I have several opportunities to recognize and honor the humanity in another human being; to recognize and honor That-Which-Is-Sacred in each person I speak with – the spouse or parent or sibling or cousin or friend who's initiating the case; the medical administrator, nurse, doctor, police officer, funeral director, or hospice nurse with whom I verify the case; the AFES Center worker who takes the case or gives one to me.
These are opportunities to bear witness.
I find additional keys in Red Cross history. The first-ever Nobel Peace Prize, awarded in 1901, was shared by Frédéric Passy, who founded the first French peace society, and Henri Dunant, who founded the International Red Cross and initiated the Geneva Convention. The International and the American Red Cross organizations were founded in the midst of two of the bloodiest wars Europe and America had known – the Battle of Solferino in the Second War of Italian Independence, and the American Civil War – springing from a desire to help the wounded on the battlefield, without consideration for which side of a conflict any of those wounded were part.
Humanity. Neutrality. Impartiality. Independence.
Several months ago, a local Friend asked me, “Don’t you feel conflicted when you do AFES casework? Because you’re making soldiers’ lives easier?”
That thought hadn't occurred to me. So, I thought about it.
And I realized, I haven't talked to one family or one soldier whose life is anything approaching “easy” right now.
The service I offer as an AFES caseworker is one where I work with people in a time of great stress, and touch them as embodiments of That-Which-Is-Sacred. As real people. Many of the families and professionals I speak with in the course of a case are struggling to make a difference in the world. Many of the them are struggling simply to get through each day.
For the families, having a loved one in the service right now is not easy. There's not one family I've worked with that hasn't been under enormous stress because they have someone in the service right now. When someone they love is ill or dying or giving birth or being born, it doesn't matter whether or not they support this war, or any war, or their relative’s military service: they are the same people as you and me.
I guess that's the real key, what it really comes down to. Working with military families has helped me see that women and men in uniform, and the families of those women and men in uniform, are not part of a monolith or even a monoculture. Working AFES cases has helped me recognize military members and families as people who are a lot like me.
And they are people who are suffering because of this war. Some of them believe in it, some of them don't. It actually doesn't matter: they are all suffering for it, in ways those of us back home who don't have a direct connection can't understand.
Humanity.
The Peace Testimony.
Each of us is sacred.
Disclaimer: The opinions and beliefs stated in this article are those of the author only. They do not reflect the opinions, beliefs, or positions of the American Red Cross. This article is not endorsed by the American Red Cross.
------------------------------
It’s 3:45 am when my pager wakes me. I speak to a man who is quite upset: his sister has just died – at the end of a long illness, but unexpectedly soon – and his sister’s son is on active duty in the military, stationed overseas. The caller needs to get a message to the nephew through the Red Cross so the young man can get leave for his mother’s funeral. I walk the caller through giving me all the information I need – his sister’s information, the hospice information, his nephew’s name, social security number, and military address – and promise him I’ll get back to him just as soon as I can. I call the hospice agency and page the hospice nurse, who confirms the date, time, and cause of death. I send the message through the Red Cross system and call the man back to tell him the message has been sent and that we requested that his nephew call him as soon as he receives it. I explain that because his nephew is in Iraq and the activity level there is very high right now, it may take longer for the message to go through and he may not hear from his nephew for several days.*
I’m driving home from work when my pager goes off. I pull over and talk to a woman whose son was just in a motor vehicle accident and is near death. She is very calm. She wants her daughter to come home so the family can all decide together about taking him off life support. I talk to the charge nurse in the ICU and gather all the information that command will need to decide whether or not to grant leave, including the medical team’s recommendation for the service member’s presence. I send the message, then let the family know that it’s on its way, and that I requested that a chaplain be present when the sister is notified.
I’m eating dinner when the pager beeps. I speak to a woman who’s in active labor at a local hospital and is about to give birth. She gives me her husband’s information between contractions and then passes the phone to her father-in-law when she can no longer speak. I apologetically explain I can’t send the message until the baby’s born. Her father-in-law chuckles. “Don’t worry, they’re wheeling her into delivery now!” By the time I talk to someone on staff for the verification, the baby’s been born and I can send the notification. The delighted new grandpa answers the cell phone when I call back to say the message has been sent.
------------------------------
*To protect confidentiality, none of this information comes from actual cases. These situations are compiled from typical kinds of cases.
------------------------------
I volunteer with the American Red Cross, an organization which provides humanitarian relief and assistance under a variety of circumstances. I’m active in two areas: Disaster Relief, and Armed Forces Emergency Services (AFES). As an AFES volunteer, I mostly work with military families to get emergency messages to active-duty service members: an illness or accident, death, other emergency situation, birth.
As a Friend, I first got involved with the Red Cross through Disaster Services just after September 11, 2001. Like so many of us, I had a deep need to do something – something to help, and something that expressed the Peace Testimony. What I did was answer phones, all day, every day. It wasn’t glamorous, but it was needed, and it freed up experienced, trained volunteers to go out in the field.
After Hurricane Katrina, I again found myself raging at the news, and again felt that need to do something. So I thought I’d go answer phones again. But because I have experience as a pastoral counselor and case manager and the need was so great, the local Chapter asked me to go to the Gulf Coast instead.
Five weeks after the disaster, at just one service center, in just one town, my fellow volunteers and I saw and spoke with thousands of people every day. None of us could “fix” anything for them. True, we could help them apply for financial assistance. True, we could try to connect them with services. But we couldn’t repair their lives.
Mostly, what we could do was just be there with them.
It turned out our simple presence meant much more than financial assistance to many people. “You came from where? To be here with us?”
“But you’re not getting paid?!”
“What about your family?”
“Thank you for coming down here.”
“I haven’t told anybody what happened, and it’s been more than a month.”
“We thought nobody cared about us.”
I already knew what a difference it made for me to have someone simply be with me when I was going through hard times. In Mississippi, I learned yet again that bearing witness is sacred work.
When I returned from my deployment, I stayed involved with my local Red Cross Chapter, mostly responding to local disasters. I learned it also makes a big difference to people when they know they’re not alone just after a house fire, tornado, or flood. One elderly resident of an apartment house which had been completely evacuated in the middle of the night said, “Because you all were there, we weren’t afraid.”
But then my supervisor asked me to get involved with Armed Forces Emergency Services. Our department was short-staffed, and she said I had a good background for the work. I was a little dubious about this. As a Friend, as someone who doesn’t support this war, how would I feel talking to military families in crisis? And could I do so without offering them short shrift? (Integrity. Peace.) But as a volunteer, I was there to do whatever needed to be done, so I said I’d try.
I kept thinking of a F/friend whose brother is a Marine. I kept thinking of my own surrogate brother, who’s a Marine, too.
Over time, doing AFES casework became as much an expression of the Peace Testimony for me as Disaster Relief work. I don't know that I have good words to explain how being part of providing this service, providing this ministry of presence, is, for me, a way of walking the Peace Testimony in the world; but I will try.
Let me start with the seven Fundamental Principles of the International Red Cross/Red Crescent Movement: Humanity. Impartiality. Neutrality. Independence. Voluntary Service. Unity. Universality.
I know. They sound like a bunch of very dry words. And yet each one of those Principles is quite real. Each one provides concrete guidance to Red Crossers. Each one helps me put my Quaker beliefs and convictions into action as part of a larger, completely secular, organization, side-by-side with non-Friends. Each one lets me work closely with other people who have very strong convictions, and who in ordinary life might not think we have anything at all in common.
The Fundamental Principles help us do sacred work together.
I find one key, one link, to the Peace Testimony in the Fundamental Principles. Take, for example, Humanity. With each AFES case I work, I have several opportunities to recognize and honor the humanity in another human being; to recognize and honor That-Which-Is-Sacred in each person I speak with – the spouse or parent or sibling or cousin or friend who's initiating the case; the medical administrator, nurse, doctor, police officer, funeral director, or hospice nurse with whom I verify the case; the AFES Center worker who takes the case or gives one to me.
These are opportunities to bear witness.
I find additional keys in Red Cross history. The first-ever Nobel Peace Prize, awarded in 1901, was shared by Frédéric Passy, who founded the first French peace society, and Henri Dunant, who founded the International Red Cross and initiated the Geneva Convention. The International and the American Red Cross organizations were founded in the midst of two of the bloodiest wars Europe and America had known – the Battle of Solferino in the Second War of Italian Independence, and the American Civil War – springing from a desire to help the wounded on the battlefield, without consideration for which side of a conflict any of those wounded were part.
Humanity. Neutrality. Impartiality. Independence.
Several months ago, a local Friend asked me, “Don’t you feel conflicted when you do AFES casework? Because you’re making soldiers’ lives easier?”
That thought hadn't occurred to me. So, I thought about it.
And I realized, I haven't talked to one family or one soldier whose life is anything approaching “easy” right now.
The service I offer as an AFES caseworker is one where I work with people in a time of great stress, and touch them as embodiments of That-Which-Is-Sacred. As real people. Many of the families and professionals I speak with in the course of a case are struggling to make a difference in the world. Many of the them are struggling simply to get through each day.
For the families, having a loved one in the service right now is not easy. There's not one family I've worked with that hasn't been under enormous stress because they have someone in the service right now. When someone they love is ill or dying or giving birth or being born, it doesn't matter whether or not they support this war, or any war, or their relative’s military service: they are the same people as you and me.
I guess that's the real key, what it really comes down to. Working with military families has helped me see that women and men in uniform, and the families of those women and men in uniform, are not part of a monolith or even a monoculture. Working AFES cases has helped me recognize military members and families as people who are a lot like me.
And they are people who are suffering because of this war. Some of them believe in it, some of them don't. It actually doesn't matter: they are all suffering for it, in ways those of us back home who don't have a direct connection can't understand.
"The Red Cross, born of a desire to bring assistance without discrimination to the wounded on the battlefield, endeavours... to relieve the suffering of individuals, being guided solely by their needs, and to give priority to the most urgent cases of distress."
Humanity.
The Peace Testimony.
Each of us is sacred.
Friday, 10 April 2009
New playlist: Passover 2009
Passover 2009: Songs from our Seder
12 songs, 36.5 minutes
Name Time Album Artist
- Would You Harbor Me, 1:49, Camaradas, Three Altos - Amy Bernstein, Paula Pederson & Sarah Thompson
- If Not Now, 1:47, Roots And Wings, Linda Hirschhorn with Vocolot
- Harmony, 2:14, The Earth Will Turn Over, SheWho
- Not By Might, 2:55, Roots And Wings, Linda Hirschhorn with Vocolot
- Lo Yisa Goy, 3:24, Fire Within, Libana
- Birkat Shalom/Blessing For Peace, 1:57, Full Glory/Songs Of Hope, Consolation, And Joy, Juliet Spitzer
- Esah Eiynai, 2:25, Full Glory/Songs Of Hope, Consolation, And Joy, Juliet Spitzer
Saturday, 14 March 2009
Mid-Winter Gathering 2009 Epistle from Friends for Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, and Queer Concerns
[note: this should soon appear on the relevant page of the FLGBTQC website.]
02/15/2009
Dear Friends General Conference and Friends Everywhere,
We send loving greetings to you with this letter, as well as an invitation.
We are gathered at Camp Adams near Molalla, OR for the 2009 annual Midwinter Gathering of Friends for Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender and Queer Concerns. During our time together, we have been exploring this year’s theme “Faith Calls for Justice on the Same Terms.” On our first evening together, we heard stories from and about our spiritual pioneers (both in modern and biblical times). We spent time in worship and worship sharing. We tended to the business of our beloved community. We participated in interest groups on a variety of offerings including trans and other queer concerns, Walt Whitman, Love Makes a Family, singing and others. On Saturday evening, we were blessed with a one-person play by a member of our community who has written about trans folk in the Hebrew and Christian scriptures. During all of these times, as well as in fellowship around meals, during walks in the woods surrounding the grounds, and in private conversations we found a blessed time to renew our spirits and support each other.
During our meeting for worship with attention to business a letter from the clerks of the 2009 FGC Gathering was read. While we were glad to learn of the work being done to help ensure the safety of our families who are planning to attend this year’s gathering in Virginia, we were also saddened that once again the Gathering is being held in a place where state laws and constitutions have been re-written to take away our civil rights, including freedom of religion and equality. It is with great sadness of heart that we realize how difficult it is becoming for FGC to find a site for the Gathering where this is not the case. More and more, our families fear that they will not be allowed to make medical decisions about their loved ones or they fear that authorities may not recognize their adoptions, civil unions, and legal marriages. We continue to face the nightmare that loved ones may find themselves alone, while we are prevented from being with them at the times they most need us!
We remembered with gratitude that FGC joined with us in creating opportunities for witnessing to the power of God’s Love in our lives and in our marriages the last time the Gathering was in Blacksburg, and that they stood with us and spoke out for us at that time. We also remember with gratitude the loving minute approved by the FGC Central Committee a few years ago affirming “Our experience has been that spiritual gifts are not distributed with regard to sexual orientation or gender identity. Our experience has been that our gatherings and Central Committee work have been immeasurably enriched over the years by the full participation and Spirit-guided leadership of gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender, and queer Friends. We will never go back to silencing those voices or suppressing those gifts. Our experience confirms that we are all equal before God, as God made us, and we feel blessed to be engaged in the work of FGC together."
We acknowledge and appreciate the many times FGC and our meetings have stood for us and with us by approving minutes of support and acknowledging and celebrating our unions and families. We still have work to do. We are now led to invite you to explore ways you, our meetings and faith communities can walk with us in witnessing to the World what we know experientially; that God’s love is indivisible and is not withheld from anyone or any couple seeking to live faithfully in holy union. Our silence and the silence of supportive faith communities make it easier for those claiming to speak with the authority of faith to insert their religious doctrine into the laws that govern our lives, as witnessed recently with the passing of Proposition 8 in California.
Today we are called to:
- Invite FGC and our meetings to join us in bringing Quakers together to help us all understand what is meant by “that which God joins together.” Many meetings struggle with the issues marriage raises. What are the differences between marriage as a civil institution and as a “God anointed” union? How can Friends help in the struggle for full marriage equality for same sex couples?
- Invite FGC to join with FLGBTQC to consider together how and when to bear witness to our experience as a faith community concerning queer marriage and civil rights in part because many sites (like in Virginia) will give us Opportunities to witness to the power of God’s love in our lives and in our families.
- Invite FGC to convene a Gathering or small conference whose theme would be “Who so ever God has joined together” which would address issues of marriage, family and relationships of all orientations and gender. We would suggest that Friends from all “sides” of the marriage question be invited to participate.
- Invite our meetings to provide support committees for LGBTQ members and their families when meetings are discerning whether they can or cannot take their marriages under the meeting’s care or when those Friends are made vulnerable because of faith-based witness around civil and constitutional rights in the wider community.
- Invite meetings to participate fully in civil discussions and legislative activism to help speak Truth of our experience of God’s Love for all. Our work can minister to others as we share our own ongoing process as models for other faith communities. We see this as an Opportunity for our meetings to speak publicly to our deeply rooted experience that God calls us to lives of Love and that Love takes many forms.
- We ask FGC, monthly meetings and yearly meetings to raise up the issues of equality and the ways in which our LGBTQ families are most in danger when they travel or seek help, whatever those meetings’ views on LGBTQ marriage.
We want to affirm to you all the power of the witness that our straight allies bring to our own lives and in the wider community. We do not experience this issue as simply a matter of marriage rights, but as a need to affirm and recognize that it is the richness of diversity that has strengthened and nurtured this country and our faith communities through the ages. Friends have long witnessed to a testimony of equality and we ask Friends to join with us in asking our government for equal protection and equal rights for all people.
God has been joining members of our LGBTQ community in loving marriages and relationships for long before these modern times. We are certain that some day civil laws will be enacted that legalize and recognize LGBTQ marriages and other civil rights. We have faith that God will continue to bless our lives. We have hope that civil rights will be in our life times. We know that Love, radical Love, will prevail.
With love and on behalf of Friends for Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender and Queer Concerns,
Karen Lightner and Neil Fullagar, co-clerks
Friends for Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, and Queer Concerns (FLGBTQC)
(contact info available here)
Thursday, 5 February 2009
This month's Friends Journal
There are two things I'd like to recommend from this month's Friends Journal:One is the cover. The combination of the photo and the poetry by Christopher Fowler prompted me to stop, breathe, and smile in delight as soon as I opened my mailbox.
The second is Merry Stanford's article, "I Am Who I Am," which addresses all sorts of issues I think readers of this blog are interested in.
I am grateful to Merry for her courage and faithfulness, and for forwarding a dialog that we desperately need to continue in the Religious Society of Friends. Thank you.
Monday, 2 February 2009
Poetry for Brigid, I: "random interview," pat lowther
For why I have a connection with this poem, see my blog entry "what i want" from November of 2007. - sm
RANDOM INTERVIEW
Pat Lowther
From: Time Capsule, Polestar 1996, p. 242.
Monday, 26 January 2009
Lillian's obituary
Lillian's obit from the Daily News. - sm
Lillian Willoughby, Quaker activist, dies at 93
LILLIAN WILLOUGHBY had a vision of a world at peace.She and her husband, George, dedicated Quakers, chased this impossible dream all over the world, conducting nonviolent protests against war and preparations for war for nearly 70 years.
They even refused to pay federal taxes that they deemed were going to pay for war. As a result of these activities, they often ran afoul of law-enforcement and judicial officials who did not share their passion for peace.
Lillian Willoughby died Thursday just shy of her 94th birthday. She lived on the Old Pine Farm Land Trust in Deptford, Gloucester County, part of the New Jersey Green Acres program.
In 2004, she and other activists spent seven days in the federal detention center in Philadelphia for blocking the entrance to the Federal Building in a protest against the Iraq war. They chose jail over $250 fines.
In a statement read in court, she summed up her philosophy of peace and justice.
"I am approaching my 90th year," she said. "I had high hopes of leaving this earth confident that the people on it knew more about nonviolence and conflict resolution.
"Even after 9/11 we had a window of opportunity to do just that. By working with the United Nations and the World Court we could have helped build a stronger world community, a community of fairness and justice for all, where compassion, understanding, forgiveness, imagination, sharing and courage are valued and practiced."
In 2006, she and other older activists, including the poet Sonia Sanchez, then 72, were charged with defiant trespass for refusing to leave a Center City military recruiting station after trying to enlist to serve in Iraq. A judge dismissed the charges.
They called themselves the "Granny Peace Brigade."
In 2003, she and other demonstrators had their heads shaved outside the Liberty Bell in the name of peace. They intended to send the shorn hair to senators from Pennsylvania and New Jersey to express their opposition to the war.
From 1971 to 1987, Lillian and her husband ran a commune in West Philadelphia devoted to helping the community. The site included 20 houses that made up the Movement for a New Society.
The Willoughbys lived in a small third-floor apartment where they practiced living simply. When a Daily News reporter encountered them there in June 1980, they were baking their own bread. The group started the first Take Back the Night rally, an idea that became an annual anti-crime event.
Taking on the simple life was also a way to keep any income away from the federal government. Even so, the IRS confiscated their red Volkswagen for back taxes. During the auction at the IRS headquarters in Chester in 1970, the Willoughbys and supporters served lemonade in the hallway before submitting the winning bid of $900 to buy the car back.
Lillian was brought up on a farm in West Branch, Iowa. She attended a Quaker boarding school and later graduated from the University of Iowa. She became a dietician by trade and worked at hospitals and nursing homes.
She met her husband in Iowa. He was a conscientious objector during World War II and helped find homes for Japanese-Americans who had been put in camps at the outbreak of the war.
"She was loving, honest and forthright," said longtime friend and fellow Quaker Lynne Shivers. "She had a deep belief in the Quaker ideal of creating a nonviolent world. She reached out to people who were down, and cared about them."
She also is survived by three daughters, Sally, Anita and Sharon Willoughby; a son, Alan Willoughby, and three grandchildren.
Services: A Quaker memorial meeting will be held at a future date. *
Tuesday, 20 January 2009
"Ella's Song / We Who Believe in Freedom"
My friend Andy mentioned that Sweet Honey in the Rock should have been there today, singing this. This is so much in the spirit of the day, and it's stuck in my head:
We who believe in freedom cannot rest
We who believe in freedom cannot rest until it comes
Until the killing of Black men
Black mothers' sons
Is as important as the killing of White men
White mothers' sons...
Link to a video here.
Link to lyrics here.
We who believe in freedom cannot rest
We who believe in freedom cannot rest until it comes
Until the killing of Black men
Black mothers' sons
Is as important as the killing of White men
White mothers' sons...
Link to a video here.
Link to lyrics here.
"Lift Every Voice"
The full text of "Lift Every Voice and Sing," also known as the Black National Anthem, which many of us recognized during Rev. Joseph Lowery's Benediction during today's inauguration of President Barack Obama. For me, Lowery's benediction was one of the most moving parts of the inauguration. - sm
Lift every voice and sing
Til earth and heaven ring
Ring with the harmonies of liberty
Let our rejoicing rise
Tigh as the listening skies
Let it resound loud as the rolling sea
Sing a song
Full of the faith that the dark past has taught us
Sing a song
Full of the hope that the present has brought us
Facing the rising sun of our new day begun
Let us march on til victory is won
Stony the road we trod
Bitter the chast'ning rod
Felt in the days when hope unborn had died
Yet with a steady beat
Have not our weary feet
Come to the place for which our parents sighed?
We have come
Over a way that with tears has been watered
We have come
Treading our path through the blood of the slaughtered
Out from the gloomy past
Til now we stand at last
Where the white gleam of our bright star is cast
God of weary years
God of our silent tears
Thou who hast brought us thus far on the way
Thou who hast by thy might
Led us into the light
Keep us forever in the path, we pray
Lest our feet
Stray from the places, our God, where we met thee
Lest our hearts
Drunk with the wine of the world, we forget thee
Shadowed beneath thy hand, may we forever stand
True to our God, true to our native land.
Lift every voice and sing
Til earth and heaven ring
Ring with the harmonies of liberty
Let our rejoicing rise
Tigh as the listening skies
Let it resound loud as the rolling sea
Sing a song
Full of the faith that the dark past has taught us
Sing a song
Full of the hope that the present has brought us
Facing the rising sun of our new day begun
Let us march on til victory is won
Stony the road we trod
Bitter the chast'ning rod
Felt in the days when hope unborn had died
Yet with a steady beat
Have not our weary feet
Come to the place for which our parents sighed?
We have come
Over a way that with tears has been watered
We have come
Treading our path through the blood of the slaughtered
Out from the gloomy past
Til now we stand at last
Where the white gleam of our bright star is cast
God of weary years
God of our silent tears
Thou who hast brought us thus far on the way
Thou who hast by thy might
Led us into the light
Keep us forever in the path, we pray
Lest our feet
Stray from the places, our God, where we met thee
Lest our hearts
Drunk with the wine of the world, we forget thee
Shadowed beneath thy hand, may we forever stand
True to our God, true to our native land.
- James Weldon Johnson
"This Land Is Your Land"
I needed my hanky during this. And I'm so thrilled they sang the "less popular" verses that usually get left out. - sm
Pete Seeger and Bruce Springsteen - "This Land Is Your Land" - the Obama Inaugural Celebration Concert
Pete Seeger and Bruce Springsteen - "This Land Is Your Land" - the Obama Inaugural Celebration Concert
Thursday, 8 January 2009
Holding the Willoughbys in the Light
from an email from George; if you'd like contact info, please let me know.
Lillian has been an amazing influence on me, as well as on Beloved Wife, and a loving presence in our lives.
- sm
Lillian has been an amazing influence on me, as well as on Beloved Wife, and a loving presence in our lives.
- sm
January 5, 2009
Dear Life Center/MNS friends,
Dear F/friends of Central Philadelphia Monthly Meeting,
It is with a heavy heart that I inform you that Lillian had a stroke on December 23 when we were visiting with our daughter, Anita, and her family and the rest of our family in New York City. Lillian has since been paralyzed on her right side. After a few days, we brought her back to Deptford in an ambulance and we brought a hospital bed for her. She remains at home. Some years ago, she decided that if such an event took place, she would prefer not to be admitted to a hospital since she did not want to live as an invalid. She has chosen not to eat but let nature take its course. She takes sips of water from time to time. She is in no physical pain and can speak short phrases. Our children, Sally (who lives with us), Anita, Alan and Sharon are sharing in her care. Lillian is also visited daily by a hospice worker.
She would like to receive cards or e-mails from her distant friends. Address is [snip]. E-mail to George is [snip] and phone is [snip]. If you are close enough to visit, please phone ahead, since sometimes many visitors come at once. Please spread this news to others who care about Lillian. You can also contact Lynne S [snip] or Nichole H [snip] for more information.
We have heard from many friends, and not surprisingly, some from India! We are
grateful for your caring and support.
With appreciation,
George
Monday, 5 January 2009
A bit of a limb
I'm going to go out on a bit of a limb, and share with you more of what I've been up to since moving to Seattle. Which, come to think of it, is spending a lot of time out on a limb.
Starting this fall, I've been making ministry the focus of my life.
That's such a simple statement. But there are so many things it doesn't say -- about faith and faithfulness, anxiety and fear, joy and peace and simplicity, and more.
This leading has been building for a while, and came to something of a crescendo almost a year ago, when Beloved Wife and I were struggling to discern our next steps.
She was completing her PhD in math, and had started to hear back from post-doctoral jobs she'd applied for. We were trying to figure things out -- not only what to do next, but how on earth to decide. None of what looked best for her was compatible with what I'd thought I was led to do next. We twisted ourselves into some pretty interesting and awkward pretzels trying to make it all work. (The pretzel-twisting didn't work.)
A couple of things helped. One was deciding we trusted that this leading to be in a marriage with each other would not be mutually-exclusive with our other leadings. Three other things that helped were my being willing to listen deeply, even daringly, to myself; my asking for a clearness committee; and Beloved Wife's willingness to trust this before I had good words to explain it.
Beloved Wife was in England for the semester, writing her dissertation in reach of her advisor, who was there on a visiting professorship. I was in Ann Arbor, working, taking a class, and doing intensive physical therapy for an old injury.
I had a series of experiences where discernment came in bright, heart-pounding flashes. Exam questions in my music theory class ("Describe your ideal lifestyle"). An email exchange with a dear friend/former professor and mentor ("I know exactly what kind of 'shop' you should set up!"). A clearness committee meeting with me at Mid-Winter Gathering, with deep worship, deep love, laughter, and tears ("No, you can't hide").
So, I gradually came to understand that my next step was to answer a leading to make ministry the main focus of my life, of my time and energy.
That didn't mean I knew what it would look like.
And I still don't!
I know some of what it looks like, or at least what it's looked like this fall: taking some classes, hosting events for building spiritual community, being available for counseling and spiritual direction, submitting a workshop proposal for FGC Gathering, participating in the life of the Meeting I'm attending here in Seattle, getting to know the local Pagan community a little, making sure I take time for things like dance (my version of "going to the gym") and for teaching dance... But sometimes I think I'm still figuring it out every day.
That's okay with me, for the most part. I don't need to have it all figured out. I don't necessarily need to know where I'm going to end up, just where the next few steps are.
A lot of this last year has felt like this song-and-picture combination:
I feel like I'm crossing a stream in the woods: I can see the rock I'm stepping on, and I can see the next; I can tell there's a mossy bank on the far side, but I can't see all the stepping stones in between. (Or the places where my feet will get wet.) But the woods are green and beautiful; the birds are calling; the sun is shining down through the trees; the breeze is dancing; the brook is singing.
Imani, faith, can come like a spirit
Spirit come like walking on air
Take a step, and trust in the path, and
Mother Imani meet you there.
Starting this fall, I've been making ministry the focus of my life.
That's such a simple statement. But there are so many things it doesn't say -- about faith and faithfulness, anxiety and fear, joy and peace and simplicity, and more.
This leading has been building for a while, and came to something of a crescendo almost a year ago, when Beloved Wife and I were struggling to discern our next steps.
She was completing her PhD in math, and had started to hear back from post-doctoral jobs she'd applied for. We were trying to figure things out -- not only what to do next, but how on earth to decide. None of what looked best for her was compatible with what I'd thought I was led to do next. We twisted ourselves into some pretty interesting and awkward pretzels trying to make it all work. (The pretzel-twisting didn't work.)
A couple of things helped. One was deciding we trusted that this leading to be in a marriage with each other would not be mutually-exclusive with our other leadings. Three other things that helped were my being willing to listen deeply, even daringly, to myself; my asking for a clearness committee; and Beloved Wife's willingness to trust this before I had good words to explain it.
Beloved Wife was in England for the semester, writing her dissertation in reach of her advisor, who was there on a visiting professorship. I was in Ann Arbor, working, taking a class, and doing intensive physical therapy for an old injury.
I had a series of experiences where discernment came in bright, heart-pounding flashes. Exam questions in my music theory class ("Describe your ideal lifestyle"). An email exchange with a dear friend/former professor and mentor ("I know exactly what kind of 'shop' you should set up!"). A clearness committee meeting with me at Mid-Winter Gathering, with deep worship, deep love, laughter, and tears ("No, you can't hide").
So, I gradually came to understand that my next step was to answer a leading to make ministry the main focus of my life, of my time and energy.
That didn't mean I knew what it would look like.
And I still don't!
I know some of what it looks like, or at least what it's looked like this fall: taking some classes, hosting events for building spiritual community, being available for counseling and spiritual direction, submitting a workshop proposal for FGC Gathering, participating in the life of the Meeting I'm attending here in Seattle, getting to know the local Pagan community a little, making sure I take time for things like dance (my version of "going to the gym") and for teaching dance... But sometimes I think I'm still figuring it out every day.
That's okay with me, for the most part. I don't need to have it all figured out. I don't necessarily need to know where I'm going to end up, just where the next few steps are.
A lot of this last year has felt like this song-and-picture combination:
I feel like I'm crossing a stream in the woods: I can see the rock I'm stepping on, and I can see the next; I can tell there's a mossy bank on the far side, but I can't see all the stepping stones in between. (Or the places where my feet will get wet.) But the woods are green and beautiful; the birds are calling; the sun is shining down through the trees; the breeze is dancing; the brook is singing.
Imani, faith, can come like a spirit
Spirit come like walking on air
Take a step, and trust in the path, and
Mother Imani meet you there.
- from "Imani," by Rachael AK Hazen
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