Charter for Compassion

This is one of the most beautiful video clips and projects I have ever encountered. Turns out to be the blossoming of an effort by Karen Armstrong. Reminds me that the next time I have several days/weeks off in a row, I ought to take the opportunity to stretch out in my chair and read all her writing from old to new.

Compassion. I think they're onto something.

[click on the title of this post to go to the website and view the video]

Making All Things New

It has felt good to flip the page on the calendar. I am ready to wipe the slate of my life clean and start fresh. And it's even o.k. that my slate has some grooves and markings on it that won't wipe off completely. Those markings add character! It's a new year, I have a new job and another chance to be the me I want to be. Of course, we are presented with this sort of "new" opportunity every morning--how cool that we wake up every day with another chance to begin life anew?! Though I must admit that I've needed something bigger--more of a jolt--to get that refreshed feeling. I've needed to begin a new Year and not just wake up to a new morning. One of my first tasks in this new year is to preach. It has been awhile since I have delivered a sermon and I feel a bit rusty. Searching for inspiration, I opened up one of the most important books I read in seminary. Anna Carter Florence's book Preaching as Testimony (Westminster John Knox Press, 2007) is brimming with wise counsel and insight--especially for the woman preacher. I was struck by a paragraph I had highlighted a couple of years ago. It speaks about an attitude of "freedom" which I wish to embody in this upcoming year (and the next 50 or so years for that matter). So a guidepost for 2010 and beyond:

"Proclamation, then, is a testimony of freedom...Yet the freedom women have seen and confessed is never for the sake of the present order, 'keeping things as they are.' If it were, our preaching would only be interested in trying to maintain the status quo. We would simply try to spread power around. We would try to help women become like men, blacks like whites, the poor like the rich--as if extending privileges through a heaping portion of patriarchal power were the answer to all our problems. But preaching, as Jesus taught us, is never for keeping the status quo. Instead, it is for the reordering of relations: for jubilee. It is for canceling debt and making all things new. It is for freedom." (p.97)

May the proclamation and expression I engage in this year be in service to this "reordering of relations", this freedom, this moving beyond the status quo.

Jesus and Gender

Humble Confidence--
Fearless Gentleness

These are qualities of character I would like to live more fully into. Humility, confidence, fearlessness and gentleness. Yet these each need to be tempered. Fearless-Confidence seems dangerous as does Humble-Gentleness. Though I sense these match-ups are more culturally in tune. Particularly along lines of gender formation. We want fearlessness and confidence in male leadership. We instinctively understand the importance of these qualities when worn by those in positions of power. And they seem unsuitable or dissonant when worn by women. A fearless, confident woman is still a bitch or a dyke or a ball-buster. Hmm...but just maybe there is one tiny piece of such mindless bigotry and critique which I can accept. No person whose dominant qualities are fearlessness and confidence appeals to me--regardless of sex. I think of dictators and hard-line rules (whether of countries or living rooms). The notion that so many find this sort of leadership acceptable (in males) is unacceptable!

Since we're just entering the waiting room again--another season of Advent--I will wait for these qualities of character to be born in me. But in balance. Fearlessness, Humility, Confidence, Gentleness. The incarnate Light--Jesus the person--wore these qualities well. Balanced. Neither hard-line ruler or meek pushover, this guy showed us a way beyond the binary.

Humble Confidence--

Fearless Gentleness

He probably wouldn't win our vote today, or make the best football coach for that matter. And though some of us feminists still wonder if anyone could have even recognized a woman-Savior, I'll let that angst rest for just this moment. For now I'll wait for that gentle little boy to be born--the one who fearlessly took on the great powers of his time and won. By losing.

It's time to post something here (I seem to be posting at the rate of an astounding once per month) so here's something for November. I have not been inspired to create, so this is a piece written for a class a couple of years ago. It's more for the ear than the eye--but it does fit the theme of this blog rather well. Onward/inward we go--beyond the binary!
* * * *
Duality Malady: Integration and Transformation

black – white
wrong –right
we’ve been sick, cosmic blight--
night – day
dark – light
left – right
stop this fight!
in – out
forward – back
walk the line or fall off track.
conservative – liberal
forgiving – vengeful
regurgitate or hold it back
meat – veggie
cat – dog
prince or princess, kiss the frog
rich – poor
urban – rural
backwoods – yuppie
privileged – hungry
ping to ping, ding or dong
the wicked witch or Cinderella’s song?
hot – cold
heavy – light
boy – girl
man – wife
How’d we get so trapped in strife?
orthodox – or just lost
right – wrong
mute – song
circle – square
I don’t care!
home – away
at work – at play
invisible – seen
awake – or dream?
Catholic Church – Candomble
searching for a middle way.
talk – or silence
peace – or violence
commercial – natural
vision – factual
left-brained – right-brained
sober mind – on cocaine
either or either or
walk on in and shut the door.
queer – straight
pink – blue
in – out
it’s up to you.
random – fate
guided – lost
apathetic – for a cause
good – bad
mom – dad
uncle – aunt
priest or lay
where the hell’s the middle way?
I’m so tired, I’m so scared…waking up and no one’s there.
Death – life
sun – moon
ground – air
fact – fiction
slur or diction
virgin – whore
peace or war.
fight fight day or night
donkey – elephant
red or blue
in a zoo.
local – universal
causative – reactive
intelligent – dumb
scratch my head or suck my thumb.
love – hate
early – late
ahead of time – procrastinate
project – reflect
pasty – tan
fat – thin
woman – man
head – heart
myself or just my body parts?
expand – contract
inflate – deflate
power – weakness
vital – drained
wet – dry
heaven – hell
cake or pie?
flow or block
sick or well?
sweet – sour
water – land
roll over – take a stand
repair – destroy
sorrow – joy
yell – whisper
my heart is blistered.
reaching out, reaching in
mother – child
born again.
flower – weed
tree or seed?
ocean – sand
gentle – command
the All is near, letting go of fear
wave – particle
quantum – liminal
resurrect – reflect
birth is death
death is life
beyond the sin
is the center of time
bridge the breach
stretch for peace
reach out your hands
heal the chasm of man
I get a sense, I get a taste
that we can make a different place
it’s through the tears, into the fear
with open ear and breath drawn near
we will see, we will shape
with our feelings we create
equilibrium from delirium
method in madness
order in chaos
the Christ reborn
orisha adorned.
possession progression
primal transformation
my heart can heal
not afraid to feel
my soul lifts
on the breath of your gifts.
We are each other. We are all One.
And it hurts and it burns but each day we learn.
There is no way out, there is only this way.
The answers are here
only hidden by fear.
One blink, one breath
one more moment of death
then new life will emerge
the cycle, the urge
for creation for change
is leading us into that place
we can not name.

Gentle Melt

This morning the first snow of the season melts as it hits the warm earth. I am reminded of catching and melting those flakes on my warm tongue as a child. The joy and pleasure in the small act seemed immeasurable. God, let me be as one flake of snow--existing for a moment of beauty and joy. Falling softly to melt in Your warm heart.

purpose and self-consciousness

I've thought of this blog a lot over the past few weeks and pondered my lack of posts. I think my posting-problem has to do with the fact that I am uncertain as to the "purpose" of this space. What is this exactly? A public journal? A place to rant, muse, spew, unload or reflect? And who is it for? Me or the two people who may end up reading it? Ah--like most things, purpose makes a difference. I like a couple of lectionary-based blogs I have stumbled across. So this might turn into something of that sort in the future. Or not. The purpose of this space is still working itself out.

I recently read something that made me think of this blog and my concerns. I'm hoping the author (a lovely and thoughtful priest) won't mind if I quote him: "The journey towards one's true self, and the journey towards God are the same journey. Not because the self is God, but because God, as our creator, redeemer, and sustainer, resides at the heart of every human soul. The quest to become one's true self does not require self consciousness. In fact, self preoccupation can mess up the whole venture. The self is a target best hit obliquely." (Eric Haarer, "Designed for Life" in Desert Call, Vol. 9 No. 3 Fall 2009, p. 18).

Eric's perspective on the spiritual quest speaks to my concern about the purpose of this blog. I do not wish for this blog-space to become a "self-preoccupation-space". I certainly don't need any more space for self-centeredness in my life. With that intention made explicit, time to do some blogging. (and the two of you who might read this, please do hold me accountable if this page descends into a self-centered muck of posts.)

For the Birds

I’m moved by birds—especially birds in plight. Birds are symbols of a sort of freedom I desire. To soar. To flit. To roam. To fly. Seeing any creature in pain is troubling, but particularly so for the birds. These winged-ones are specially equipped to escape danger. They can do what the rest of us can’t—just take off. So it shakes me to see them fall.

Turned the corner on the street today and walked into a dead pigeon. Freshly dead. He was soft and full looking and as yet unbothered by other creatures. So out of place, so wrong, this dead bird laid out on the sidewalk like a small pillow. The brick wall a couple feet away must have been the reason this snapshot of absurdity existed. Hitting brick walls in flight at break-neck speed will break your neck. Poor bird.

So many ways to go down—walls, deceptive glass, bigger birds, pellets and arrows, decoys, dogs, disease, a wind stronger then one’s wings…

Though flight has its advantages, I imagine, it seems to have its heartbreaks too. So here’s a little prayer for all the birds whose freedom is clipped, whose lives are short-lived, whose wings are damaged, who are ripped from the sky by outside forces—

Fly anyway
Fields and far-off branches beckon
Fly anyway
The predators pressure you and the weather threatens
Fly anyway
Barriers block the way
Fly anyway
Wings get tired
You’ve lost the nest
Fly anyway. Just fly, just fly today.