We'll see - or - Equanimity as a Lenten Discipline

In my previous post I celebrated a successful operation, reboot and mused about what kind of Lenten journey this reboot might provide.  I was excited about the prospects of Lent based in joy and gratitude and had so many ideas about where this spiritual journey might take me.

None of those ideas included coming down with a post-operative infection!  It started two weeks ago Friday when I noticed I felt a bit "off."  Then the next day I felt very sleepy and even more "off" - something was not right.  Then on Sunday I could see what was wrong as my belly became angry red and began to swell.  Post-op infection.  

I was fortunate to have great medical care - the kind you can easily access when you have the privilege (in our society) of medical insurance.  But even with great care and some slow and steady improvement, small surgical interventions were necessary to get ahead of the infection.  I felt so sick the first week that my memories are a blur.  By week two I was feeling just a little bit better.  Since the surgical interventions the pace of progress has accelerated.  The wound-v.a.c. is helping the antibiotics to get ahead of the infection.  I can feel the difference.  Phew!

What impact did this have on my Lenten observance?   I haven't opened my beloved devotionals in two weeks.  Prayer time became very basic and a bit primal - no strength for the daily offices.  A major problem has a way of stripping down a situation to its essentials - no room for anything extraneous.  I have discovered that this is one of the gifts that problems bring us.  They also help us to prioritize what really matters and get back to our bottom line.

But to clarify:  I do not believe God brings problems into our lives in order to help us simplify and prioritize.  I do, however, believe that God works with the "stuff" of life in whatever form it takes.  And unlike the miller's daughter, God regularly spins straw into gold.

The infection left me with feelings of being helpless and out of control.  No matter what I did (or agreed to do) it didn't seem to be making things that much better.  I have grown accustomed to living in a world where often medical interventions make an immediate positive difference.  Hearing that something is going to take time brings me no comfort at all - especially when I do not feel well.  It was at this point that I accepted that Lent was also out of my control.  It would take whatever form it took.

And so it did - very quietly.  While having a procedure in the Interventional Radiology Department, I found myself trying not to focus on my pain.  Very quietly my heart reminded me of the practice of Tonglen - that wonderful Tibetan meditation/prayer form that teaches you to take your personal pain and use it as a way to identify with all those in the world experiencing pain right now.  You draw in their pain with your inbreath, and exhale peace and relief to all who are suffering.  This was a practice I always wanted to explore in greater depth - and here was the perfect classroom.  Tonglen in Interventional Radiology.  Tonglen in the Procedure Room at my surgeon's office.  Tonglen for Lent.  Paul Knitter would smile and understand.

Recently while watching some political satire I remembered the United Worship Service we shared with our Buddhist neighbors on the eve of the Presidential Election in 2016.  We talked much that night about equanimity - and I reflected on how this virtue has received scant attention in popular Christian literature.  The Apostle Paul touches on it briefly and Jesus appears to have lived it.  But it is not a Top Tier Virtue in the Progressive Christian Lexicon.  And yet here I was living deeply into this notion of equanimity.  Aside from taking my antibiotics and following my surgeon's advice, there was little else I could do to move this forward.  It would take as long as it takes and much of that was outside of my control.  Can I lean into equanimity with this infection?  With the circumstances of life?  With my ministry?  Can I explore the virtue of equanimity and see how it fits for a follower of Jesus?  Can I live that Buddhist story of the Zen Master, the Boy and the Horse with an open mind and heart and see where this all of this takes me?  

We'll see...   : )

Kim

The Zen Master, the Boy and the Horse (this version is taken from the website The Buddhaful Tao):

In this village, a little boy is given a gift of a horse. The villagers all say, “Isn’t that fabulous? Isn’t that wonderful? What a wonderful gift.”

The Zen master says, “We’ll see.”

A couple years later the boy falls off the horse and breaks his leg. The villagers all say, “Isn’t that terrible? The horse is cursed! That’s horrible!”

The Zen master says, “We’ll see.”

A few years later the country goes to war and the government conscripts all the males into the army, but the boy’s leg is so screwed up, he doesn’t have to go. The villagers all say, “Isn’t that fabulous? Isn’t that wonderful?”

The Zen master says, “We’ll see.”

The Great Reboot

It is March 1st - I know this because since my operation a week ago Monday, I keep a note page for each day so I can track significant details.  March 1st is important because it is the anniversary of my beginning ministry with the church I currently serve.  That was back in 2009 - The First Sunday in Lent.  This year March 1st is the First Day of Lent - Ash Wednesday.

I have confessed in previous posts to leaning more toward Advent than Lent.  But this year I decided to give Lent my full attention - to see if I could be open to the spiritual lessons and growth for which this season is known.  Of course my equation did not include spending the first part of Lent recovering from surgery.

Surprise!

And yet here I am on Ash Wednesday - away from all the traditions and tasks that have brought such meaning to my soul in the past.  I love how the Sisters at St. Gertrude's taught me to fuse the reminder of mortality (Remember that you are dust, and to dust you shall return) with a reminder of the cosmos (From stardust you come, and to stardust you shall return).  Nice.  I will not be in church tonight fusing anything - another will lead worship.  

So instead of doing what I have done for decades, I spent Ash Wednesday outdoors.  I took myself for a gentle walk.  I watched hawks soar and neighborhood dogs protect their property (the two black labs barking frantically at their fence calmed right down when they were told that they were "such good puppies" for protecting their back yard).  I talked with several pets and smiled at a dozen strangers (all smiled back).  I have lived here since 2009 and have never walked in my neighborhood.  And when you take your time, there is much to see!

The sun felt so warm, reminding me that the origin of the word Lent is the word spring.  It has been a cold and dark winter for so long...but spring always returns.  Always.

My winter began in the summer of 2014.  In the midst of a perfect storm of circumstances I required emergency surgery.  It did not go well - either because the surgeon was minimally competent but  having a very bad day, or less charitable reasons that I prefer not to explore.  The aftermath was a quality of life that rated negative numbers on a ten point scale.  I have been working with an extremely competent surgeon since June of last year, taking steps to be as healthy as possible in order to get this mess fixed.  We had planned on doing the surgery possibly as early as Summer of '17.  But circumstances changed dramatically and she decided the time for intervention was NOW.

I went into the procedure terrified, using my experience from 2014 as the template for my expectations.  After scaring myself silly, I decided that the only thing I had control over was the lens through which I viewed this experience - and the fear lens was not getting me anywhere good.  Instead, I picked up the grace lens and took a deep breath.

My fears did not totally subside, but I was able to relax and notice the web of love that was holding me.  My team of doctors did an amazing job - fixing the unintended consequences of the previous surgery and giving me back my life.  Today, a short ten days after surgery, I feel better than I have felt in years:  Me 2.0

I plan to keep the grace lens in place for Lent - leaning into some of the spiritual disciplines that have always sustained me while actively looking through the lens of grace as I go through my day - and being open to the new that will emerge.  I suspect that this Lenten journey will be very different from any previous one:  Lent 2.0

I shared my vision of Me 2.0 with a dear colleague who had a very clever response:  Runs much smoother.  Fewer glitches and security breaches.  Additional power and memory capacity.  It will fly off the shelf!

...and if that is an accurate description of my reboot, I can't wait to see what Lent 2.0 is like!

With love, gratitude and grace for the journey,

Kim

Trials

The word itself sounds foreboding.  It does not evoke images of sunshine and bunny rabbits.  Instead, it conjures up unpleasant ideas of an adversarial courtroom drama or some specific set of circumstances that one finds to be - well, trying.

Trials are certainly not the subject of Epiphany - the day we would have celebrated at church yesterday had it not been for continued extreme weather.  So no choruses of We Three Kings and presentation of our gifts for the people of Honduras (two members of our community are leaving on Thursday for a medical mission to the poorest of the poor in Honduras and we planned on bringing specific needed items to offer as gifts - like the Magi - so they could take them on their mission trip).

No church - no chance to share our gifts (right now) - no leaving the house.  Sigh.

I have a bench near the big picture window in my breakfast nook - it is a cozy place for me to sit and read whilst looking out at the beauty of creation.  I often pray there.  Late Sunday morning I found my way to the bench (with devotionals in hand) to have a time of reading and prayer and gazing at the beauty of creation.  I watched the heavy snow - then rain - then sleet - then more snow - then torrential rain falling outside of my window.  For an area that sees little precipitation, we were certainly cracking any remaining records!

I was moved by the Epiphany reflection offered by Richard Gaillardtz (a professor at Boston College)  entitled The Great Manifestation (which is what the word Epiphany means).  He writes:

The feasts of Nativity (Christmas) and Epiphany are bound together.  Christmas invites our contemplation of the mystery of the Incarnation:  God became human in Jesus of Nazareth.  With the feast of Epiphany the camera view widens to take in a range of human responses to the Incarnation.  Perhaps these epiphanies led the wise men, the witnesses to Jesus' baptism, and the wedding guests at Cana to recognize that they need not escape the world to find God; God had come to them.  If Christmas celebrates the Incarnation, Epiphany calls forth the spiritual habits of recognition.  Do we have the spiritual vision to identify the humble and unexpected epiphanies occurring daily in our own lives?  Are we as driven as the wise men to seek out the presence of God in the embrace of our spouse or child, in the face of an annoying coworker, in the panhandler on the street corner?

What a great call to us for this Season of Epiphany - to seek out the presence of God who is always in our midst!  It is easy to experience God in those sunshine and bunny rabbit moments - with butterflies and rainbows rounding out the picture.  But what about seeking God in the harder places (like the annoying coworker or the challenging circumstances that sweep into our lives like a whirlwind - unbidden and unwelcome).  Can we seek God in the ordinary stuff of life - good or bad?  Is God always present - and when we are unaware of God's presence is that due to God's absence or our lack of perception?

After my prayer time I continued to ponder these ideas as I worked on some paperwork...until I heard the first loud drip...followed by another...until the drips quickly joined together to resemble a mini Niagara Falls coming from the ceiling above me (and above my computer)!  By the time I moved furniture and found my bucket, the one leak had grown into three main leaks - one of which was pouring through my overhead light.  Water was coming in everywhere!

Now I don't know about you, but I am a one bucket household.  The race was now on to find large enough bucket substitutes that I could lift and empty.  The next few hours were a blur as the rain kept falling inside and outside my house.  I was wet - cold (the heating was working just fine but I felt frozen) - and frustrated.  Having just put a new roof on the house last year, this was not in the plan!

There were moments of tears as well as moments of using my expanded vocabulary - the one I reserve for moments when I am only overheard by family or close friends.  To say I was feeling discouraged was an understatement.

Then I remembered the reading from earlier today - what would it be like to seek God even in the challenging circumstances of life?  This certainly was challenging - what if I changed my focus from my frustration to looking for God?

I would like to tell you that as I had this epiphany the heavens immediately closed the doors to the firmament and thus stopped the rain from falling - or that I heard the faint chorus of angels as the water stopped pouring from my ceiling.  Or (even better) - a legion of brooms and buckets appear a la the Sorcerer's Apprentice, but the water they fetch is inside my house and they carry it outside to be dumped down the storm drain (I can get quite imaginative when wet, cold and frustrated).  But of course none of those things happened.

What did happen is that my attitude changed - my stress level dropped - my sense of humor returned - as did my perspective.  The water was still coming in - but I was in a better place to deal with it.  By focusing on where God was present now I found myself supported - upheld - and just a little bit peaceful.  And God was present - just not how I expected...or wanted (with dancing brooms carrying buckets).

It is impossible to escape trying situations - trials come to us all and sometimes they require multiple buckets!  Often they come without invitation or explanation and are completely outside of our control.  Sometimes they are the direct results (or unintended consequences) of our decisions.  But whatever brings these trials into our lives, we can use them as opportunities to practice the spiritual disciplines that transform our hearts and world.  And that brings us to another definition of the word trial: To test something to assess its suitability or performance.  Trials give us a chance to test the values and behaviors we say we believe in.  We can then assess what is working or what needs to be discarded or rethought - or what just needs more practice.

Thoughts from a one bucket gal living through a three bucket situation -
Kim

Traveling to Bethlehem

I have fond holiday memories of helping my Grandmother set up her mother's creche (nativity set) on her mother's sewing cabinet.  Although Great Grandma's creche was lost in the confusion of Grandma's final years of life,  I can still set up my beloved creche on her mother's sewing cabinet - an old family tradition continued.

I remember being at Grandma's house and having to get up on a chair in order to set each piece where it was meant to go.  I loved hearing the story of that first night in Bethlehem and the birth of baby Jesus.  In my imagination I would ponder what it might be like to be present for that first Christmas night.  As a teen I longed to travel to the actual city of Bethlehem and pray at the spot where Jesus was born.  That dream was abandoned many years ago but the longing to go to Bethlehem revisits me each year as Christmas approaches.

Imagine my surprise when I discovered that I was spending the end of Advent and Christmas Eve in Bethlehem!

I first noticed my relocation on the Tuesday before Christmas.  I was visiting with a beloved member of this congregation when suddenly a choir of angels began to sing - filling that cold winter's day with warmth and love (and tears)!  I immediately recognized Bethlehem in their songs of love.  Then I thought back to the recent weeks and saw Mary and Joseph in the loving parents and grandparents who were nurturing our young ones - and in the little ones I saw the Christ child so clearly!  So many kind people step up to be helpful before Christmas - shepherds one and all!  On Christmas Eve the Magi visited us in the form of Jewish and Muslim neighbors who assisted in our nursery so our youngest ones were cared for on Christmas Eve.  As the electric lights dimmed and candlelight spread throughout the darkened church, I knew I was standing on sacred ground - the holy place where Christ was born...

...because Christ is born anew in each tender act of love and mercy.  And when we participate in them or witness them - we are in Bethlehem!  

I do not believe that traveling to Bethlehem need be limited to the time surrounding Christmas.  I have a hunch - and a hope - that each act of love and mercy will take us there.  Even now I feel the cold of the night warmed by the breath of the animals while a wee baby sleeps in their feed trough.  A bright star lights up the night sky - may we navigate by its light as we become God's peacemakers in this crazy and wonderful world.  And may we heed the voices of the angels who tell us to be not afraid!  

Let's go share some good tidings of great joy - God is with us - each and all of us!

A very Merry Christmas and Blessed New Year,

Kim

Advent Longings...Advent Peace

The hawk returned this Advent to hunt the birds that feed and shelter in my backyard.  She is a year older - no longer the awkward 'tween of last year who still hadn't mastered her landings.  The first telltale sign of her presence was a pile of quail feathers by the deck (now covered in snow).  Snow covers everything in my backyard today - it will be a white Christmas for sure.  White snow covering the feathers...white sky all the way to the horizon...white snow falling from the sky.  It is a peaceful scene - yet there she sits on a tree branch as still as can be - waiting for the smallest flap of a wing to show her the way to her next meal.  Death and beauty sitting outside my window - together.

This is a complicated world.  She is so beautiful.  As are the birds she hunts.  I root for the quail and the mourning doves and the little spurdies she feasts on.  And yet I confess that she has a place in my heart, too.  Those beautiful words from Isaiah that speak of the peaceable kingdom express my longings this Advent - O that the hawk and the quail would graze on seed together...O that those who are sharply divided in our nation would come together on common ground and throw a party where people laugh and tell stories and forget that they are enemies.  O that the never-ending-ever-evolving-always-present mess in the geopolitical area surrounding the cave where animals sheltered the newborn Jesus would know peace.  O that the families facing heartbreaking circumstances would experience healing and joy. O...O...O...

...O how I long for the peaceable kingdom!

This Advent has been an interesting journey - a departure, in so many ways, from my decades old routine.  I began Advent "early" on November 15th, choosing to be French - or Celtic - or Orthodox in my observance of a forty day period before Christmas.  Part of that choice was for self preservation - 2016 has been wickedly difficult in so many ways!!!!!  Since Advent is my favorite season, more seemed better.  I even hauled out the boxes of Christmas decorations thinking I would decorate early this year.  I dusted off my Advent devotionals and purchased a few new ones to try.  During the week of Thanksgiving I got my Advent wreath out and placed new pure beeswax candles in it - just so I was ready on the Eve of the 1st Sunday of Advent.  Normally I take my advent devotionals and put them near the wreath, using my devotional time each day to read them by the light of the purple and pink candles.  But this was no normal Advent - and more was not better.  Much to my surprise, more quickly became less as I followed that quiet inner prompting.  The decorations are still in their boxes (they may come out today).  The academic books I was reading got put away and the devotionals replaced them.  And the devotionals were read slowly - they were savored - read not like academic works, but like one reads the the sky - or the face of a dear friend.  And they were not read at the Advent wreath.

As for my time each day at the Advent wreath - that changed completely.  No longer distracted by reading devotionals, I instead lit the requisite candle(s) and then just sat in God's presence.  To keep myself honest I used my hour glass to set the time (actually it is a fifteen-minute-glass).  The first few days I was fidgety and my mind raced at breakneck pace.  But slowly my monkey mind and tense body began to relax and welcome this time with God.  No agenda - no list of petitions - no inspirational reading to keep me comfortably distracted - just candlelight and silence and the desire to be in God's presence.

I would like to tell you that because of these new practices circumstances magically changed and the world around me became the longed for peaceable kingdom...that the people I loved were miraculously healed and that suffering was ended.   But you know that isn't true.  Circumstances on December 23rd for citizens of this country and global village are as scary as they were when Advent began.  And dear loved ones still struggle with circumstances that would break mere mortals.  And yet...

...and yet I feel a peace deep within me that defies explanation.  Clearly this peace is not linked to circumstances.  I also feel a joy that again cannot be explained by anything external.  

Perhaps this peace and joy will be the foundation from which I can continue the work that slowly - one encounter at a time - births the peaceable kingdom into our world...the work that moves us away from dualistic thinking and embraces the both/and that leads to transformation.  The needs are so great - and my personal resources feel so damn inadequate.  And yet...somehow...the gifts that God has planted in my heart and the longing for the peaceable kingdom that God nurtures in my soul is enough to empower me to do my part.  It is enough.  I am enough.  God is enough.

Today I love both the hawk and the quail without turning away from either.  I watch the snow fall and warm my hands near the flame of a candle that has given both light and warmth for many hours.  And I smile as a warmth from deep within me overflows. 

With love and warmest wishes for a meaningful Advent and blessed Christmastide,

Kim

Waxwings, Lotion and a French Advent

During my years in Scotland I was blessed to live in a rural community with wise farmers who were willing to teach a toonser yankee quine (Translation: American woman from the city)  how to read the natural signs around me and plan accordingly.  Right now those who are in the know in rural Aberdeenshire are preparing for a long, deep winter (based on a bumper crop of Rowan berries and the arrival of large flocks of waxwings for whom yon berries are a delight).  Mind you, no one has ever done a double-blind study of the efficacy of using rowan berries and waxwings in predicting the severity of winter.  But if I were living in rural Aberdeenshire today, I would make sure the coal bunker was full and extra candles and matches were on hand for power cuts - signs read! 

We are almost to the Season of Advent - my favorite season in the church year.  Advent brings me a sense of joy and peace - of comfort - that right now I desperately need.  But it is also the season that calls us to pay attention - notice - read the signs!  In many ways it has been a bruising year, culminating in the November election trip through the looking glass.  Reading those signs gives me no peace, comfort or joy.  As a white, college educated middle class woman, my privilege will protect me from much of the tsunami of injustice that may be heading our way.  All I might face is an assault on my freedom to make choices about my body - and the ongoing pay inequity, discrimination and misogyny that all women face (especially those of us who work in vocations previously or currently dominated by men).  By comparison to many of my dear friends, colleagues, congregants and family members,  I will get off easy.  Privilege protects me.

Reading these signs deeply disturbs me.  How did we get here?  How did hate speech get normalized?  What can we do to understand the circumstances and choices that landed us here, and how can we use wisdom and insight to move us through this time of deep division?  Is there a way to heal the gaping wound that separates people in America and endangers so many?  

Healing and reconciliation have been parts of my ministry since Moses was a child.  I have worked with many conflicted churches over the years - and a few in which the chasm separating factions was like a ten mile wide flaming moat filled with hungry crocodiles and poison.  Those are hard swamps to drain.   In my ministry, all the churches but one said that they wanted to heal, but not all were willing or at a place where they could do the hard work needed to bring about deep and true healing (with one church wanting to continue the war until their opponents were beaten into submission or vanquished - sigh).   

My brother recently had back surgery and developed a post-operative infection.  In order for him to heal, it was not enough for the doctors to treat with lotion the redness and swelling of his back.  They instead needed to drain the infection that had developed around his spine and treat him with antibiotics for an extended period of time - getting to the root of the problem.   The redness and swelling were symptoms of the infection - treating them as the problem would ultimately prevent healing.  Churches that adopt the "lotion" strategy of soothing the symptoms without addressing the underlying causes rarely heal - usually they just wallpaper over the problem and glory on until it pops up (unexpectedly!) in another way.  Symptom relief is very seductive - especially when you are in pain.  But if chosen as the only response to a challenge, it will eventually fail and always disappoint.

Scholars wiser than I are providing insight into the dynamics that led to the rise of the alt-right and the election phenomenon that caught so many of us by surprise.  But we must not be seduced into thinking that hate speech and a Trump presidency are the issues - they are symptoms of a deeper problem that needs addressing.  These wise minds can point us toward the conversations needed to bring true healing to our nation.  But are we are willing to learn how to have hard conversations outside of the protective bubble or echo chamber in which most of us live?

The church can be a place where we can practice having hard conversations.  Perhaps if we practice within our bubble, we will gain confidence for having tough conversations outside our protective zone where they can facilitate healing and positive change.  Perhaps if we deliberately spend time associating with people who do not echo our thoughts and feelings, we will learn to see the people behind the labels and be reminded that they, too, are beloved of God and created in God's very image.

The day after the election, I found myself thinking that I needed to do a three or six month swap with a pastor in rural Indiana - I needed to be immersed in the experience of living with people whose viewpoint is the polar opposite of my own.   I had to break bread with them, listen to them, visit them and have the experience of standing in their shoes and seeing the world through their eyes.  Perhaps then I would understand their anger and fear.  I have a sabbatical coming up in two years - perhaps that would be a constructive way to spend that time.  But frankly I can think of seven thousand other ways I would rather spend my sabbatical (like watching waxwings eating Rowan berries)!  

And therein lies the rub - the kinds of conversations needed to heal our nation are not easy or comfortable.  Papering over them is much nicer to contemplate, as is going to war with those who disagree with me - especially when I make this a holy war to protect the vulnerable and marginalized.  I can beat my evil opponent fair and square and save the oppressed - marching into hell for a heavenly cause!  This kind of holy war has deep roots in Christianity, feels satisfying to contemplate and is the perfect way to perpetuate the problem.

I do not really want to go to war with anyone.  And I do not want to see the civil liberties of others denied through white christian male heterosexist nationalism.  How do I thread this needle?

I have no definitive answer to that question, but these steps might lead me in the right direction:  I can read and learn.  I can listen deeply to others who live outside of my protected echo chamber, and I can intentionally spend time with those who are not part of my tribe.  I can make sure I am maintaining balance in my life between self care (including tribe time) and service.  I can try to see others through God's eyes of love, and look for ways to follow the example of the angels and encourage others to not react from a place of fear.  And I can remember these wise words of Rumi:  Your task is not to seek for love, but merely to seek and find all the barriers within yourself that you have build against it.  A full time job, to be sure.

To foster self care I decided to be French for Advent.  Some churches in France maintain the tradition of celebrating Advent for the forty days before Christmas (a custom also found in some Celtic and Eastern Christian communities).  Since Advent is my very favorite season in the church year, I decided that this year early is definitely better.  I dusted off a beloved Advent devotional written by a French-American monk and was delighted to open its pages on November 15th.  Soon the Advent wreath will come out and new beeswax candles will scent the air with the fragrance I associate with Advent comfort and peace.  The television will be turned off and I will spend more time in silence.  I hope these rituals of spiritual self care will open me more deeply to God's presence and movement - helping me to dance more gracefully with God.  Perhaps that will fortify me to face the signs I see on the horizon and engage in responses that will foster honest conversations and healing.  

If only the only signs needing to be addressed were flocks of waxwings and their beloved berries!

Drawing strength and comfort from an early Advent fire,

Kim

Moving the Needle

I just finished my last doctoral class (not counting the post-class paper).  I usually take one class per year, but this year I felt compelled to finish the coursework in one summer.  Since the seminary was experimenting with 5 day intensive courses, I decided to take two classes and put this part of the DMin behind me.  The first class went very well, and as Multicultural Counseling is a good skill for any pastor to have, I signed up for that second course and started reading the very thick text book.  At the appointed time, I drove south and west, and spent the Fourth of July week in class.

Our class was composed of six students and one professor.  Of the seven of us, all were clergy of various flavors:  two were Roman Catholic Priests, one was a Reconstructionist Rabbi, one was a Mennonite Pastor, one was Presbyterian, and one was Christian Reformed - Korean.  I am UCC.  Among us we had three women and four men, and people from Ghana, Nigeria, Florida, North Carolina, Indiana, Idaho and California.  Of those living in America, three were first generation immigrants (from Argentina, Korea, and England).  Those from Africa were here on student visas.  We were mixed in terms of religions, countries of origin, race, ethnicity, culture, sexual orientation, marital status, economic status, political persuasion, and although everyone but the Rabbi was Christian, it was a highly diverse group of Christians (from far-right evangelical/conservative to far-left progressive).

For five days we sat around the table and talked about very hard topics, practicing active listening, problem-solving, and a variety of different counseling and group process strategies.  It was intense.  And it was not always easy.  Passions would flare, and the group would hold the energy until it could dissipate or redirect.  We stayed around the table while people of color were dying at the hands of the police, and police were dying at the hands of  - what shall we call him? A person of color?  A veteran?  A person with mental health challenges?  Someone in need of help?  We stayed around the table and brought our widely diverse perspectives to questions that seem almost too big to answer, and feelings that were hard to contain.

Seminary is a safe place to be during times of fear and uncertainty.  People spring into action and create spaces to pray, or talk, or grieve, or express anger and fear - loving arms go around the  seminary community so we can step into the larger community and minister to those who are also afraid and angry.  Some went to Oakland.  Some to local vigils.  Many will go to a large gathering in San Francisco tomorrow afternoon.  Seminary, like a local church, becomes the place people are equipped, supported, and "launched" into service.

What do we do in the face of this continuing violence that fractures along racial lines?  What do we do when communities of color are afraid of the police who are called to serve and protect them, and the police are afraid of violence from the communities they are sworn to serve and protect?

We gather.

We gather to comfort and support.  We gather to witness to the need for constructive, transformative conversation followed by action.  We listen and hear one another.  We talk honestly and deeply about the role systemic racism plays in our current reality, taking a long and hard look at how we are complicit (often unwittingly) with a racist system.  We have tough conversations about gun violence in America, and discuss creative and effective ways to curb gun violence.  We look at all aspects of our judicial system, from the police to the prisons and everything in between.  We refuse to engage in the politics of blame and shame that are such a part of this election cycle, and we hold our elected officials responsible for setting a tone of positive, cooperative leadership.

We meet one another, talk honestly and respectfully, solve difficult problems together and implement change.

The most important part of gathering around the table to talk is that the conversation is useless if those gathered around the table are just like "me."  Each of us can have conversations like that sitting in front of a mirror!  Instead, we need to gather and converse with people who are different from us - people who hold positions that are outside of our experience, and possibly hard for us to hear.  We must get out of our bubble of comfort and familiarity and listen. The conversation isn't going to be easy, and sometimes it will not uncomfortable.  But if it is honest, respectful and true, it will move the needle.  And the damn needle needs to move!

During my drive today I stopped in an obscure town in Nevada for gas and a break.  The young woman behind he counter welcomed some conversation.  I asked her about living in a town that, well, was a brief stopping place for people who needed gasoline, a bathroom break, or an impressive assortment of jerky.   She shared, with a big smile on her face, that she loved living in a city  (Winnemucca), but loved living here more.  "There is a creek behind the house, and I can go out back with my gun and shoot as much as I want.  I love being outdoors, and relaxing with my gun."   Well, we had some common ground on the outdoors part, but the gun is another story.  She was listening to a conservative radio talk show, and had a WWJD tattoo - a question that I think we might answer differently.   If we were to generate a quick list of things we have in common, it would be a very short list.  Except for the most important thing - we are both beloved of God, and created in God's very image.  And she is someone I need to get to know - because she sees a completely different world than I do.

I know what the world I see looks like.  I need to see the world through the eyes of those who see a very different world.  And have a very different experience.

This week has been shocking, and shame on any political leader who uses these tragedies to stoke fear and division!  Equally, shame on anyone who enters the situation with a big broom and desire to sweep these even bigger questions under the rug.  If you are white, you benefit directly from systemic racism - end of story.   You have privilege.  It is time to use that privilege in service of justice and transformation.

It's time to gather and have real, life-changing conversations - a process faith communities are uniquely positioned to facilitate. This must happen before this level of violence becomes our new normal, and we habituated to it, or become resigned.  Once resignation, despair or apathy settle in, it is harder to move the needle.  And the damn needle needs to move!

With love and prayers for transformative justice,
Kim