Stepping on the path of nonconformity

Her name is Everly Grace and she came into this world on December 1st; a water dragon baby like her grandmother.  Fire and water.  I hope she becomes a nonconformist.  As a white baby, she already has a privilege-lined path to walk upon. It’s so easy to lull oneself to sleep on such a path.  I know. I have done it. And while I have slept, others have lived tortured lives of oppression.

So, as my sleeping granddaughter lays in my arms, I whisper “challenge the status quo”  ”speak out against injustice”  ” change the system” and “be a radical prophet for love”

Yet, my words are not enough. I must show her by my actions that I refuse to conform to a path that privileges some at the expense of others.

I listen to the whispers of those who have gone before me and seek courage to step again and again on the path of nonconformity.

A pregnant pause; breathe, risk, go forth

My blog has been resting as I’ve been metaphorically pregnant in my soul.

The force of emergence is growing stronger, requiring deep breathing and trust in the process.

In three weeks, I will be traveling to Colombia for a 5-week Spanish language and cultural immersion courtesy of a Jesuit university partnership. Three weeks ago, I first heard of this possibility.  South America and me.  It wasn’t on the ultrasound picture.

The day before I leave for Colombia is a special day – my 60th birthday. There. I said it out loud.  In the face of cultural ageism that would have me think life is ending.  Yet, here I am pregnant with new beginnings.

Nine months ago the labor began in earnest. I was unexpectedly tapped to teach a social justice course for university graduate students – with less than 2 weeks notice and while working full-time at my “day job.”  Although I’ve facilitated learning experiences in a variety of settings; the college classroom was a new venue and I was anxious and thrilled.

Breathe, risk, go forth. It was an amazing and exhausting experience – similar to my memories of being a new parent. Taking advice, trusting the process, trusting myself. I’m teaching again this quarter and the labor is speeding up.

I’m reconsidering ministry in a different form. My aging parents may move in with us. My son and his wife will be giving birth to our first grandchild in December.

Meister Eckhart tells us, “From all eternity God lies on a maternity bed giving birth.  The essence of God is birthing.”

I am taking a pregnant pause from my blog. I will be back, perhaps greeting you in Spanish. I will be a different person; the birth more fully realized.

In the meantime, I hope you are experiencing a pregnancy, readying you for some new birth in your life.

Breathe, risk, go forth.

Anger and Joy

Anger and joy can co-exist; these are times that cry out for both. Not for superficial expressions, but deep down gut-wrenching anger that causes change and energetic heart-opening joy that sustains it.

I sometimes worry I will get caught in one to the exclusion of the other. What I want is an ongoing dance where the total engagement of one can leads to a full-fledged experience of the other. When I feel a total sense of the freeing nature of joy, I am more able to be in touch with my angst and anger about the fact that such experiences for others are often limited by the brunt of oppression in their lives.  When I let the full expression of anger burn in my heart, I am compelled to act to make a difference and joy comes from that connection to the greater humanity to which I am inextricably linked.

Anger and joy can provide a synergy that creates unexpected opportunities for birthing a new way of being, seeing, and acting.

I have begun a new daily practice of asking myself, “Where is my anger today? Where is my joy?”  To fully engage in activist work, I need both.

Kentucky church bans interracial couples

As we approach 2012, the  resistance to paradigm shifts continues to gasp for last breaths in shocking ways. A Kentucky church, to promote ‘greater unity’ recently passed a resolution banning interracial couples from being members and participating in parts of worship: Interracial Couple Banned From Kentucky Church.  ”Greater unity” appears to be code for “let’s just have white people here.”

The outcry against this action has led the church to reconsider their decision and overturn the ban. Unfortunately, it appears that serious soul searching and recognition of deep seated bigotry was not part of the process. The pastor declared the ban to be null and void because the bylaws can’t run contrary to local, state, or national laws that would judge this as discriminatory.  Church in Kentucky Overturns Ban After Outcry

Apparently, the legal issue has forced the hand of this church rather than giving priority to a moral imperative for justice and equity.  Have these people read their Bible lately?

When our soul is lost, where shall we find it?

I wore my clergy robes and joined my colleagues in a walk to Occupy Seattle this week. I went to listen and learn, in search of ways our nation might be trying to reclaim its soul.

I sometimes wonder if our soul even knows where to find us, smothered as we are by greed, fear, and cynicism. Yet, I hear a cry from under the buried parts of ourselves yearning for a miracle renewal of wholeness and decency towards one another. It is a dialogue that needs both the 1% and the 99% if we are to survive.

Theologian Leonardo Boff reminds us that even when life as we know it seems about to be extinguished, life beyond us has another agenda:

The Spirit is that little flicker of fire burning at the bottom of the woodpile. More rubbish is piled on, rain puts out the flame, wind blows the smoke away. But underneath everything an ember still burns on, unquenchable. The Spirit sustains the feeble breath of life in the empire of death.

What does it mean for an empire of death to die? It does not go easily into its grave. Perhaps we will find our soul when we are ready to go into those places we most deeply fear and bury the lies we have told ourselves. It will hurt. We will grieve for a life we’ve known even if it has been strangling us because we know how to play the roles we have been taught matter the most.

Now we wrestle with questions like who decides what matters the most? For whose benefit are institutions making their decisions? What voices are left out of the conversation? How can we make it different?

I praise the searching, as messy and confused and difficult as it may be. For to give up the search, is to assume our soul has died and can’t be found. I choose to believe differently. Join me in the search; your voice matters.

Blackface students at Montreal university “welcome” new frosh

Business students at a Montreal university recently welcomed first year students at an athletic week event by painting themselves in blackface to represent Jamaican sprinters, shouting “Smoke more weed,” with some wearing attire with monkey faces and a least one in the group holding up a stuffed monkey. Blackface stunt at Montreal University

 

Tongue tied with language

I was talking with a student the other day who was trying to decide whether to risk talking to someone in power.  He was worried about the impact of his actions and any repercussions that might occur. Several times I found myself ready to say something and had to pull myself back.