Come in! Come in!

"If you are a dreamer, come in. If you are a dreamer, a wisher, a liar, a Hope-er, a Pray-er, a Magic Bean buyer; if you're a pretender, come sit by my fire. For we have some flax-golden tales to spin. Come in! Come in!" -- Shel Silverstein

Friday, December 09, 2016

An Open Letter to Mr. Trump

 
Dear Mr. Trump,

No, I'm not addressing you as "President-Elect Trump".

You couldn't know this, but I'm actually demonstrating enormous restraint and practicing generosity of spirit in calling you "Mr. Trump."

My mama taught me well.  She was one of those first generation immigrant "dreamers" who worked hard and sacrificed to make America great.

So was my father. He was a purple-heart veteran of WWII - Pacific front, but, I must say, as generous as he could be, he'd never have given his purple heart to you. He got it the old fashioned way. He earned it.

Sometime, I'll tell you about the sleepless nights we all had as kids when my father would scream out from some war scene he was relieving. I can even tell you the name of one of the Japanese soldiers he killed. My brother still has his Japanese helmet with a picture of that soldier in uniform, standing proudly with his wife by his side. My father never met the man he killed when he was alive. Never spoke his name when he was alive. But, he certainly called it out enough times in the middle of the night, begging God for forgiveness.

Both my parents and my grandparents and aunts and uncles were all very active in the labor union organizing movement. They fought hard at the bargaining table and on the strike lines for things like safety in their work environment and fair wages and decent benefit packages.

Immigrants! We get the job done!

Well, you did try to tell us that "the system is rigged" but we thought you were just setting yourself up to be the sore loser (and, turns out, sore winner) you really are because we all thought there was no chance in hell that you'd win.

Even you. And, it's been said in not-fake-news sources, so did the Russians.

Turns out, you were right. But, you were talking about "voter fraud" - which is not really the accurate term.  It's really "voter suppression" which is when a political party practices voter fraud.

You were just "exaggerating the truth" again. One of your favorite things to do. 

The fact is that the GOP has long practiced voter suppression in all sort and manner of deception: purging voter lists, gerrymandering districts, and fear-mongering, chief among them.

Of course, this was done following the GOP principle of "little government" because we don't want the Government messing around in our private lives.

Oh, no, not that! Unless, of course, it has to do with the privacy of women's reproductive lives, but that's another story for another time.

I've been pinning desperate hopes here and there that you would forever remain "President-Elect" and not ever make it to the Oval Office. I've signed petitions for recount and hoped against hope that if there weren't enough miscounted ballots to turn the election, perhaps some voter fraud would be uncovered.

At the very least, it might prove to be embarrassing to you, and we all know how you HATE that. 

I've also been praying that there might be thirty-seven patriots - 37 "faithless electors" - in the Electoral College who would not caste their vote for you. Thirty-seven votes is all we'd need to bring the Electoral College vote to 269 and you would not have won the popular or electoral college vote.

Oh, the GOP would still be in control, but you're not really a Republican anyway. It would just serve to humiliate you in much the same way you have humiliated women and those who are disabled and those you say are not heroes because they were captured and those who are immigrants and those who are Muslim or Mexican or ..... anyone other than Caucasian, Christian, heterosexual and, of course, wealthy.

I know it won't happen, but the whiff of hope - the fumes of possibility - are enough to sustain me from now to December 19 when it will all be over but to watch you try to ruin this country with your fear-mongering and hate-speech and flat-out lies - most of it done in 140 character Tweets.

I know. I know. And, even YOU know - I think, though I'm quite sure you haven't read the Constitution or the Federalist Papers and even if you had you do not possess the intellect to understand them (Le sigh!) - that even if there were 37 patriots among the 538 members of the Electoral College they would ALL have to vote for Hillary Clinton.

They won't. They might vote for another Republican like Mitt Romney or Michael Bloomberg which would deny you the election, but it would also not be enough to elect Hillary Clinton. Which actually would be okay with me.

I know. I thought Mitt Romney would be the worst president ever. That's when he was running against President Obama. Now? Next to you? He looks great. What's your word? Terrific!

But, even 37 electoral votes would not be enough to elect Romney or anyone else President. But, you wouldn't have the Electoral College vote. 

If that happened - if neither you nor Madame Secretary Clinton didn't get the vote, or the vote were somehow a tie, the election would still go to the Republican Party.

Well, it would go to Congress and you know they would vote for you. Because they think they can control you. Because, right now, and at least for the next two years, they control Congress.

And, as we all know, they are the highest paid, best compensated jackasses in the world. Well, next to you. And, members of your cabinet. In fact, you're counting on that, aren't you?

So, while I don't think there is a "Hail Mary pass" to save us from you, I can promise you this:

You may become "the" President of the United States, but you will NEVER by "my" president.

First of all, you are an admitted sexual predator who has said horribly disgusting and repulsive things about women, the disabled, Mexicans, Muslims, veterans who were captured as prisoner of war, and even The Pope, for God's sake! And, and, AND....your closest advisors are White Supremacists.

You are the antithesis of a "statesman" who has absolutely no experience in government or governing and you seem neither to have the capacity to understand how government works nor the inclination to learn how to govern properly.

You spit on carefully constructed diplomatic protocol.

You claim you want to "drain the swamp" but your cabinet is filled with the very old billionaire cronies, Wall Street corporate giants and east coast elites you said you wanted to kick out of D.C.
 
And, just for good measure, they are just as inexperienced and incompetent as you are in terms of government and governing.

As it turns out, by refusing to set up your companies in a "blind trust" you are guilty of the same "pay for play" influence-peddling schemes you accused the Clinton Foundation of having.

The only hope in that is you will mess up badly in the next few years and be impeached and sent away from the Oval Office in disgrace, leaving your party in total disarray.

And, and, AND.... it turns out that "fake news" - which is the only "news" your base apparently trusts, thanks to your insistence that the media in this country is "dishonest" (as if you're the paragon of virtue) - was manufactured in Russia.

We have Intelligence that proves this. But, you won't read it, so you can continue to deny it. Which is important because it would mean that your election would have been influenced by a foreign power. Which would disqualify you for election.

In your case, ignorance is not only bliss, it's how you got elected.

It will be absolutely delicious to see your arrogance get you impeached.

But, even more important than all of that, especially my personal opinions of you, the thing is this:

You do not have a mandate from "we the people" of these United States.

Turns out, the polls WERE right.

Hillary Clinton maintains more than 2.6 million vote margin over you.

That's about 2% majority of the vote.  Aside from the obviously corrupt election of 1876, no winning candidate in the two-party era has ever done even remotely as dismally in the popular vote as you have.

Oh, and I just want to point this out, only because it's so obvious you'll probably miss it:

Hillary Clinton is the first woman to be nominated by a major party as their candidate for President of the United States of America.

That' makes this record-breaking, historic popular vote one that was attained by a WOMAN.

Suck on THAT lemon for a minute or two.

So, you won by a peculiarity of our electoral system. It was something akin to a political slight of hand, just the way you've won everything else in your life.

That said, we don't even really know your net worth because, unlike any other candidate for the highest office in the land, we have never seen your tax returns - something you yourself would insist on if anyone else were being hired for a position of this level of trust and responsibility.

I know. I know. You'll never read this letter. It doesn't matter. I still had to write it.

I want you and the whole damn world to know that you will never be MY president.

I want you to know that I have already been in touch with the Democratic Party in my state as well as the DNC. I have written both to promise my time and energy and talent to a Democratic victory in Congress in two years.

Then, two years after that, we'll work to take back the White House, which should not be difficult to do once you are impeached.

And, I have no doubt you'll be impeached.

Even Allan Lichtman, the professor of political history at American University in D.C., who accurately predicted your win has predicted your impeachment. With your refusal to set up a "blind trust" for your many companies, you seem to be walking right into his hands.

Honestly? I couldn't be more delighted.

I also commit to making sure to identify "fake news" when I see it on social media and to publicly support all those courageous men and women of the Fourth Estate when they call you out as a liar whenever you tweet out your "exaggerated truths" (Read: Lies)

I'll be in D.C. for the Women's March on Washington, making sure that the glow from your inauguration party doesn't last longer than 24 hours.

More importantly, we want to make absolutely certain that you know that you do NOT have a mandate from 'we the people" - especially women and our right to keep the government off our bodies and out of our uterus.

And, even though you say you believe in God and even go to church "sometimes to eat the little cookie but never drink the wine," I believe that  the God I know and love and serve has lessons for us to learn that we couldn't learn any other way.

It's a bit like that story in the Bible. I know you know about the "two Corinthians" but, before that, in the First Book of Samuel, there's a story in Chapter 8 that brings me hope.

Samuel had ruled Israel with justice and the nation prospered. But, he was old and his two sons, Joel and Abijah, were deemed by the people unsuitable and unable to follow in their father's ways.

So, the leaders gathered at Ramah and said to Samuel, "appoint us a king to govern us like all the nations"! And, scripture says,
But the thing displeased Samuel when they said, “Give us a king to govern us.” And Samuel prayed to the Lord And the Lord said to Samuel, “Hearken to the voice of the people in all that they say to you; for they have not rejected you, but they have rejected me from being king over them."
See, Mr. Trump (I almost wrote Donald. I have to remind myself to be polite to you.), it really isn't about you. That's the final insult, isn't it?

In this election, we didn't really elect you. The numbers show that clearly.

And, contrary to what your spin room is churning out, we did not reject President Obama. Neither did we reject Secretary Clinton.

Those who voted for you rejected God for the illusions of security you promised them after you scared them into believing your lies.

The people who voted for you chose their own sense of security, their own chance for prosperity over justice and truth, fairness and equality, liberty and freedom and the pursuit of happiness for ALL of God's children.

What really hurts me is knowing that there are women - 53% of white women - voted for you. The chances are pretty good that I know a white woman who voted for you. But, what hurts even more is that she'll never tell me she voted for you.

I'll work on forgiving her. I have to. I won't allow you to erode my trust. I have to believe she'll come to regret that vote for the rest of her life.

So, as God said to Samuel, "Let them have their king." (I Samuel 8:22).

See, here's something you don't know because you haven't read The Good Book - just the part about the Two Corinthians - and so you don't know how it ends.

Here's a hint: Love wins. That's how it begins. That's how it ends. Love wins.

It may not always look like it, but love always wins.

Even death can't destroy it. And, neither can you.

So, good luck, Mr. Trump.

History has its eyes on you. And, it will be as kind to you as you have to it. 

And, good luck, America.

I mean that. You - and we - will need it over the next two years. Until we take back Congress or you implode and are impeached - or both.

I and many millions of others will be working hard to blunt the damage you already have planned to "make American great again."

Those of us who know just how great America IS plan to provide you with undeniable, irrefutable, hard core evidence of that as we work with all the angels in heaven and all the saints - past, present and yet to come -  to make our government "of the people, by the people, for the people" work for "we the people".

All the people.

For, we are what makes America great. Right now.

Not you. 

Mr. Trump.

Saturday, November 12, 2016

Holela: A Certain Kind of Madness


Leonard Cohen, the nation's aged, craggy poet and raspy balladeer laureate, died this week at age 82.

He gave us thoughtful, poetic songs about religion and romance like "Suzanne" and "Bird on a Wire" and, of course, "Hallelujah". 

There is an irony, for me at least, about his death so soon after the death of everything so many of us thought we knew about ourselves,  each other and this country. 

Can there be many who don't know the haunting beauty of his song, "Hallelujah"? 

It's been covered so many times by so many artists in so many situations - from the movie Shrek to the Memorial at the Emmy Awards, to my personal favorite by K.D. Lang - that Cohen even agreed with a critic’s plea in 2009 for a moratorium on the song’s usage in movies and on TV.  

If you listen to Cohen's original recording of his song, on his 1984 album "Various Positions," you hear something different. Something darker. Something more ominous. Something about the death of dreams and the paradox of love and how taking the risk of living into either one can lead to the possibility of healing and/or hurt, devastation and/or inspiration.

You hear in his craggy, ragged voice something about mortality and the fragility of life. You hear something about how dreams and love can sometimes lead mere mortals to amazing foolishness and degradation as well as incredible achievements and miraculous nobility. 

He wrote the song in 1984. It's probably no coincidence that Ronald Regan was elected President of the United States in November of that same year. I remember hearing it played at the deathbeds and funerals of so many people who were dying of AIDS.

The story goes that it took Cohen two years and eighty verses - some of them written while sitting in his underwear on the floor of the Royalton Hotel in New York, banging his head on the floor. If you listen, you can hear that in his song, as well.

Which is about right for a song about which the author once said,  " . . . explains that many kinds of hallelujahs do exist, and all the perfect and broken hallelujahs have equal value."

Hallelujah - or Alleluia - is a word of no small significance in communities of faith. But it doesn't always mean what we think it means. 

Most linguistic and Hebrew scholars agree that it is an amalgam of two words, the last "jah" is derived from the Hebrew word for God YHWH.  The first part, "halal" is usually understood to be an imperative form - a command - of the word "praise", but that's the easy version of translation.

Halal is also what lamps and celestial bodies do: shine.  In Job (41:10) this verb is employed to state how the sneezes of Leviathan "flash forth light". 

The masculine noun (mahalel) means "praise" or "rejoicing" or "congratulations".  The feminine noun (tehilla), means praise, song of praise or thanksgiving or adoration; it can also denote praiseworthy deeds.

But, there are two other feminine nouns, holela and holelut, which derive from this root word for praise, but ones which denote a kind of madness. It is usually associated with a sort of inexplicable exuberance; a deep joy which defies understanding or explanation.

One of my professors, a very wise Rabbi from New York, a very long time ago, once said to me that 
"Holela is the sound that comes from the intersection of suffering and wisdom; it is the sound of prayer, the sound of faith, the sound of hope, the sound of trust in God, which suffering tells us is foolish and wisdom tells us is truth."
He may or may not have known that, explicitly, but I have a sense that that's exactly what Cohen was expressing when he wrote this song.  Holela. It's what lead him to sit on the floor in his underwear in the NY hotel, banging his head on the floor.

Holela haunts this song, dancing seductively over the words, teasing out the melody until there is a sad but merciful and creative intercourse of the two. That's why it all sounds so painful and beautiful, all at the same time. 

It's what makes the song so compelling. We know it, not so much with our minds but intuitively. It speaks with "flashes of light from the sneeze of the ancient Leviathan" to the things we keep hidden in the darkest corners of the heart and soul. Its creativity is sensual and sexual; it is deeply spiritual and hopelessly romantic.

Holela captures almost precisely what I'm feeling after the madness of this week. 

Something has died, but something new is stirring in my soul. A new clarity about my identity - our identity as a nation -  which leads me to a new resolve. An emerging but yet clearly unidentified determination. 

When I can get out of my own way - my own sense of defeat and disappointment - I find enormous waves of gratitude washing over me. For Hillary. For her courage. For her intelligence. For her years of experience and service. For her class. For her grace - especially under enormous, impossible pressure.

For her willingness to carry the dream and hold the dream and risk the dream for all of us; for love of her people and her country. 

There's a certain kind of madness to that. Especially right now, less than a week later. 

Especially after hate crimes are on the rise, immigrants and people of different skin color and religious expression - here in the 'home of the brave and the land of the free" - are living in fear and terror, and women are, once again, targets for spiritual and emotional and physical abuse.

Even so, I find myself whispering, "Holela." It is my prayer. It is my statement of faith. 

It's the last verse of Cohen's song that has gotten me through this dreadful week. 
I did my best, it wasn't much
I couldn't feel, so I tried to touch
I've told the truth, I didn't come to fool you
And even though
It all went wrong
I'll stand before the Lord of Song
With nothing on my tongue but Hallelujah
Here I stand, with nothing on my tongue but Holela.

Thank you for the inspiration and permission to do that, Leonard Cohen.

Thank you for the inspiration and courage to do that, Hillary Rodham Clinton.

It's a certain kind of madness, I know. But, at least I have gotten up from sitting on the floor in my underwear; I have stopped banging my head on the floor.

It may be different for you - no doubt, it is, and that's okay - but even though it all went wrong, standing upright before God, whispering and croaking "Holela" from the depths of my broken heart, seems absolutely the right place to be at this particular moment in time.

Call me crazy. You may be right. I stand in good company with women, ancient and modern, from all countries and cultures and creeds.

Holela!

Thursday, November 10, 2016

A Prayer for November 9, 2016

 Note: I got up early on the morning of November 9th - I hadn't been sleeping anyway - and realized that I had to change the meditation I had prepared for my Hospice Team. So, I wrote this prayer. I share it here in the hopes that it may speak to you, as well. 

Dear God,

This new day has dawned with this country more divided than it has been since the days of the Civil War. Half of your people are rejoicing while the other half are stunned and sore afraid.

What divided us then continues to tear at the seams of the fabric of this nation.

We are a United Divided States.

Help us to remember that the experiment called democracy is not over; it is still being tested. After 240 years of existence, the final results are not yet in. We still have work to do. It stretches out before us, across wheat fields and deserts, from the mountains to the prairies, from sea to shining sea.
 
In the midst of our sense of victory, help us to remember your call to us to love one another as you love us.

In the midst of our sense of defeat, help us to remember that you still reign; you alone are worshiped; you alone are God.

Help us to put aside our own feelings – jumbled and confused as they may be at the moment – in service of others, our families and friends and neighbors – here and around the world.

Help us remember your high calling to us to be agents of forgiveness and reconciliation, love and peace, healing and hope in a world made dark by fear and hatred and brokenness.

Help us to rebuild this nation by seeking out your image in the face of others, finding the best in us to serve those who are the least, the lost and the lonely.

Help us to remember the words of one of your servants of old who reminded us that ‘perfect love casts out fear’. Help us perfect our love.

We are your people. You know us by many names. You are our God. We know you by many names.
 
May we find strength in our diversity and seek the courage to live into what is written on every piece of currency in this nation: In God we Trust. In God. We Trust.

For only in you can we live in safety. Only in you will we find justice. Only in you will we know the peace that passes all human understanding.

Amen.

For God's sake, PREACH!!

I'm on a bit of a tear, here, so pull up a chair. Or, click delete and move along. Your call.

This is primarily for clergy but it's important that laity hear it as well. 
 
I've already heard from two clergy who assure me that they see "nothing to be gained and lots more to be lost" by preaching about the spiritual health and well being of our community, our nation and the world in the aftermath of Tuesday's election. 
 
"I'm just going to preach the gospel," said one to me.

I don't think he had yet gone over to the Lectionary Page. What is that Gospel for this Sunday? Oh, only a few little warnings from Luke (21:5-19), like
"When you hear of wars and insurrections, do not be terrified; for these things must take place first, but the end will not follow immediately." Then he said to them, "Nation will rise against nation, and kingdom against kingdom; there will be great earthquakes, and in various places famines and plagues; and there will be dreadful portents and great signs from heaven.

"But before all this occurs, they will arrest you and persecute you; they will hand you over to synagogues and prisons, and you will be brought before kings and governors because of my name. This will give you an opportunity to testify. So make up your minds not to prepare your defense in advance; for I will give you words and a wisdom that none of your opponents will be able to withstand or contradict. You will be betrayed even by parents and brothers, by relatives and friends; and they will put some of you to death. You will be hated by all because of my name. But not a hair of your head will perish. By your endurance you will gain your souls."
Go ahead. Just try and preach something about "Sweet Baby Jesus, meek and mild" after THAT Gospel is read in the midst of a people who feel like they've been kicked in the stomach. 

My God! We just elected a man to the highest office in the land who is a White supremacist, a sexual predator, a dishonest business man who calls himself "The King of Bankruptcy," and a man who doesn't see the need to ask forgiveness, even from God. 
 
He feels he gets that in church - the few times he goes - from "the little cookie" but not the wine. He never drinks wine. Or, any alcohol. Such a virtuous man - with really lousy Eucharistic theology.
 
On Wednesday, November 9th, in Rehoboth Beach, DE, a young Black woman named Ashley, a mother of three young children, was accosted at a gas station by three white men who threatened to kill her. 
 
This was in Rehoboth Beach. The "nation's vacation place".  Just 20 minutes from where I live.

Things like that are not supposed to happen here. And yet, it happened. Right after the election. 
 
And, let's be very, very clear: This is just the beginning. 

Soon and very soon, clergy and laity alike are going to learn - if they don't already know - why it is that we call the inside of the church a "sanctuary".  Or, why the ceilings of most churches look like the inside bottom of an upside down boat - an illusion to Noah to whom God promised never to destroy the earth. 
 
If the newly elected President's word is good and his promises sure, beginning January 21st people who are Muslims, people who are immigrants who did not follow the byzantine immigration laws and are therefore considered "illegal aliens" will be rounded up and deported. Families will be torn apart. Children born in this country will be left without their parents who were not born in this country. 
 
Already, black and brown bodies are considered less valuable than white bodies. Our law enforcement officials feel they can shoot and kill black men with impunity for crimes like selling "loosies" (Cigarettes, 10 cents a piece or four for $1), or for "not following orders" when they are being held on the ground in the midst of an asthma attack yelling "I can't breathe", or even when they are on the ground, on their knees with their hands up. 
 
Our health care system does not treat people of color with the same quality of medical care. Our educational system does not value their minds or their futures. Our prison systems in the United States of America now contain more black men than South Africa did at the height of Apartheid. 
 
These things are already happening. It will get worse.

All the gains the Queer community has made in the past eight years are in danger of erosion. Watch for hate crimes to increase in five, four, three . . . .. 

And, women? By next Tuesday, a week from the election, I predict that shelters for women who are victims of domestic violence will be filled beyond capacity.  There will also be an increase in the incidence of rape. 

This is not hyperbole or fear mongering. Sociologists tell us that these things happen when our nation is in the spiritual dis-ease of high anxiety. Indeed, that's exactly what happened after 9/11. It was explained as the result of PTSD and increased alcohol abuse. 
 
There are lots of similarities between the ways people are expressing their feelings now and what happened on September 11, 2001. "Sick." "What just happened?" "What will happen to us?"

When all these things come to pass, what will the church do? How will the church be the Body of Christ incarnate here and now? What risks will we take for the Gospel we profess? 

Will we open our churches and parish halls to provide sanctuary? Will we put our bodies where our mouths have been? Will we put our faith into action? Will we take stands against injustice? Will we demonstrate? Protest? Be willing, like St. Paul, to be jailed for our beliefs? Or, at least, stand in solidarity with those who do?

Personally? I think the priest who doesn't preach on the spiritual state of this nation in church on Sunday ought to have a little visit from his or her bishop about their ability to lead a community of faith. Well, that's if the bishop has any cajones or ovaries. 
 
I think clergy who avoid the high calling of a pastorally prophetic sermon this Sunday ought to have a little "sit down, come to Jesus" with their spiritual director and therapist about the nature of their vocation. 

Because my personal assessment is that we are in the state we are in today, at least in part, because clergy have been afraid to preach the Gospel. 
 
Indeed, we've been afraid to live the Gospel and inspire others to do the same. 
 
In so doing, we have lost our spiritual, religious and moral authority. And, rightly so. 

For some clergy their personal financial security - especially their pension or sabbatical or compensation package - is more important than putting the work into preaching and living the Gospel.
 
What often passes for a sermons is regurgitated platitudes all strung together with assurances and reassurances of God's love. That's on a good Sunday. Sometimes, we might get to hear about the rector's last vacation, or her love of a particular sport's team, or his personal prayer life - all humbly offered, of course, with interjection of a bad joke at the beginning or shaggy dog story in the midst of it all so as to illicit appropriate laughter as a way to discharge nervous energy or anxiety. 
 
It's as if the unofficial philosophy of modern preaching for some pastors is "The church family that laughs together . . . doesn't decrease its pledge." 
 
Here's the truth as I know it: People are hungry for the Word. Our people are spiritually starved and thirsty. Our souls are emaciated. Our hearts are malnourished.  

I see it in my work in Hospice. I hear it conversations in the grocery store and Post Office. 

This is real, people. And, it's serious. Very serious.

This is a call to my sister and brother clergy: For God's sake, PREACH!

This is not the time for "humility" or hide behind your sense of "spirituality" or make false equivalencies about "church and state" in order to avoid the high calling - the enormous privilege - of preaching the Gospel of Jesus Christ. 
 
No, you do not have to take sides. Indeed, you shouldn't. If nothing else, there is the little matter of our tax exempt status with the IRS. God forbid we should lose that! 
 
All sarcasm aside, it ISN'T the job of clergy to tell people how to vote or exercise their civic duties. It IS the job of clergy to preach the Gospel, even when that puts them at odds with cultural norms. 
 
Especially when that puts them at odds with cultural norms.

In the words of Rev. William Barber, our task in this election was to 
“shock this nation with the power of love. We must shock this nation with the power of mercy. We must shock this nation and fight for justice for all. We can’t give up on the heart of our democracy, not now, not ever!”
That remains our sacred task as religious leaders - laity and ordained - after this election. 
 
Our people are sore afraid.  Yes, the ones who lost but even the ones who are thumping their chests in victory and terrorizing young Black women at gas stations. They are only doing that because they are afraid. They think that by abusing power they are powerful. 

They are pathetic, but make no mistake: They are afraid.
 
One of the ancients of the church once said, "Perfect love casts out fear." 
 
This is the time to put the belief we so easily profess into the hard work of action. 
 
We are people of Word and Sacrament. We must feed our people on Love Incarnate, Love Divine in the bread and wine as well as the words we preach. 

A bold, courageous, prophetic sermon which comes authentically from the very middle of the middle of a pastor's heart is a work of perfect love. 
 
Let me say that again: 
A bold, courageous, prophetic sermon which comes authentically from the very middle of the middle of a pastor's heart is a work of perfect love. 
And, let me say this: I am planning to attend two different churches on Sunday: One at 8 AM and one at 10 AM. If the Gospel is not preached, expect to see me rise from my seat and leave.

I'll be quiet. God knows, I won't make a fuss - I am Anglican, after all - but rest assured, I will not stay. And, I probably won't be back any time soon.

Others may not be so bold, but don't be surprised to see a dip in church attendance after that.

You'll be able to find me in those rare places where the Gospel IS preached and lived. Authentically. Boldly. Some of them are even Episcopal churches. 

I will leave you with these words to consider.  My friend and colleague Rev Aaron Payson, lead minister at the United Universalist Church of Worcester, MA, sent this to his congregation yesterday.

I share it now with you now in the hope that it will nourish your soul and inspire your religious imagination and creativity.
The Work of Citizenship
By Rev. Aaron Payson
(with appreciation for Howard Thurman’s “The Work of Christmas”)
When the last campaign ad has aired;
When polling stations are closed and the count has been certified;
When pundits and politicians have turned in for the night
And pollsters and political operatives are turning their thoughts to the next big race
The work of citizenship remains:


To care more for the marginalized than for profit margins
To be mindful that quality education is far less expensive than mass incarceration
To insist that military intervention is a last resort,
Not the preemptive prerogative of the powerful
In short, to know that our true wealth is the welfare of all beings and the planet that we all call home.
I know it says, "citizenship" but if ever there was a clearer vocational call to the church - the Citizens of the Realm of God, the "New Jerusalem" - I never heard it.

This is an amazing time to be a Christian. It's an even more incredible time to have the privilege of ordination and take the responsibility of our ordination vows seriously.

Yes, I'm sad I'm not able to preach this particular Sunday. I sound like I'm chomping at the bit because I am and I know it.

So, g'won. For God's sake: PREACH! In the pulpit and with your lives.

This is one of those times when you do need words, but they need to flow from your life and into the work of your ministry and inspire the lives and work and ministry of others.

We've got a lot of work to do.  Two years to take back the legislative branches of government and four years to take back the presidency.

Let's get busy, church!

Tuesday, November 08, 2016

Calling All Saints


I am not superstitious. I am the granddaughter of Maria Lima Medeiros and the daughter of Lydia Medeiros Souza and they were superstitious. Except they called it being "religious".

They - like all the women in my family and neighborhood - had "pocket rosary beads" which they would whip out at the sound of the siren of an ambulance or a fire truck or police car and "shot arrow prayers" for anyone who might be ill or injured or in trouble.

They had a shelf in the pantry lined with votive candles - of various sizes and colors - which were taken out, in turn and as needed, and lit before a plethora of statues of various saints for various and sundry petitions of prayer. A slip of paper with the "special intention" scrawled on it could be found under the base of the saint.

Every night, before bed, my grandmother and/or mother would gather the children around the particular saint or saints to say the rosary - a decade (or 10 Hail Mary's) to each saint for each petition of prayer - preceded, of course, by the Apostle's Creed, the Our Father, the Glory Be and one of the Sacred Mysteries.We were to meditate on the Sacred Mystery while reciting the Hail Mary.

There was a ritual to these prayer sessions which had to be strictly followed. No joke. This was serious. If anyone messed up, you might piss off the saint and then he or she wouldn't grant the petition and it would be ALL YOUR FAULT.

Oh, and this was done kneeling. In front of the statue. Which was on the bureau in the bedroom.  On the hardwood floor. Which, when you're under 10 years old, is asking a whole lot. If you were lucky, you got the spot on the small carpet by the bed.

If we complained or got figgity, my grandmother would remind us of the "sacrifice" Jesus made for us on the cross, saying, "Oh, your knees hurt, do they? Just imagine how Jesus felt with his HANDS AND FEET NAILED INTO THE CROSS. He did that for YOU, remember. To save you from YOUR SINS, even though you didn't know you were a sinner and didn't even know to ask for it."

Nothing can hush a figgity child better than that image. 

We won't talk about the nightmares and neurosis it later produced. 
It worked in the moment and that's really all that mattered to women who were trying to change the world the best way they knew how.

And, if the prayer petition wasn't answered? Well, my grandmother would NOT be pleased. In fact, she would blow out the votive light and turn the statue of the saint to face the corner, admonishing him or her, "And, you will stay there until you answer my prayer."

That's the thing with saints and prayers. You gotta show 'em who's boss or they just walk all over you.

So, this morning, I lit a small votive candle when I said my prayers. I called on the spirit of my grandmother and those aunts and women who were born before women had the right to vote. 
I called on the spirit of my mother and aunts and those women who were the first in their family to vote. 
I called upon the spirit of the women who dressed in white and called themselves the Suffragettes who fought so hard and sacrificed so much for women to have the civil right to vote.

I called on the spirit of all of those women to be present to us today. 
I thanked them for all that has been, the spiritual gifts of those sacrifices and witnesses that have brought us to this day.  
I asked them to bestow upon us the spirit of reason and wisdom. 
I asked them to drop some knowledge and appreciation of our past - the struggles hard fought and well won - into our present awareness. 
I asked them to make us keenly aware of our identity as Americans so that we might put country over political party, faith before ideology, civility before entitlement, justice before righteousness.

And then, I got up, got washed and dressed, and put on the special pair of Hillary socks which I bought just for today.

I did not do any of this because I am superstitious. 
I did this because I am the granddaughter and daughter and niece and cousin of a whole long line of very religious women.

And, the apple did not fall far from the tree.

Now, go vote, everyone.
The saints are here. 
And, they are watching us and waiting to help us to do the right thing.

Don't let them down. 
It never goes well when you do. 
Just sayin'. 

Sunday, October 30, 2016

Remembering (Nasty) Women (Witches).

On this day in history, October 30, 1971, 60 women, clergy and laity, gathered at Virginia Theological Seminary,  just outside our national capital, to organize the effort at the 1973 General Convention to allow access to all three orders of ordination in the church - deacons, priests and bishops - to women. 

(NB: Women had been ordained deaconess since 1889 but not considered within the diaconte until 1968 and began being ordained deacons alongside men in 1971.) 
 

They crafted a letter to then Presiding Bishop Hines, stating their shock and distress over the latest meeting of the House of Bishops in the Pocono Mountains which voted to refer the "issue" to yet another commission to "study". 
 
Over the years, the good Bishops had commissioned, received and apparently forgotten a whole series of "studies" including a "blue ribbon" study done as recently as 1967.

The letter to Presiding Bishop Hines, signed by all 60 women present, expressed their shock and disappointment and informed him that none of them would serve on the commission if asked. They also told him that they would not encourage any other woman to serve on the commission, since the time for study had long past.

They also requested (and eventually received) money from the Board of Theological Education (BTE) to hold a series of regional conferences for women and men about the ordination of women.

In signing the letter, the group constituted itself as "The Episcopal Women's Caucus.
 

Let me press "pause" here for a moment, to let that sink in.

Forty-five years ago - today - sixty women of absolutely no standing or authority in the church wrote to the Presiding Bishop of The Episcopal Church and said 'Fie!" on your special commission. 
 
These sixty women of "low estate" proclaimed to the man who held the highest office in the institution that they were boycotting his special commission and encouraging every woman in the church to do the same.

Oh, they said, and we want you to give us money so WE the PEOPLE - you know, the ones we 'talk' about as "the priesthood of all believers" and refer to in the invitation to the Service of Ordination with the words, "God willing and the PEOPLE consenting"? - can bring "the issue" to the people for consideration.

What a perfectly uppity thing to do, right?

Or, in current parlance these were some "nasty women". 
 
Herstory notes that those uppity, nasty women were not successful, first time up at bat. Indeed, they were a colossal failure. The resolution they crafted to change the canons of the church to allow for women to be ordained deacons, priests and bishops, which they took to General Convention in Louisville, 1973, failed miserably. 

The vote in the House of Deputies was more profoundly anti-woman (in a vote-by-orders of the clergy) in 1973 than it was in 1970.  That seemed like prima facia evidence that bishops had been very busy ... um... "talking" with their clergy.

It was devastating, simply devastating. That was so because, in part, they were naive.

I recall Marge Christie, one of the founders of The Caucus,  saying, "You know, we really thought that if we just had the opportunity to allow women to tell their stories, people would see the strength of their call and do the right thing."
 
I think - I'm not absolutely 100% certain, but I think - this was the moment when merely "uppity women" became strong, bold, brave, convicted, focused - and otherwise "nasty" - women. 
 
It was time to use the rules to break the rules and bring about justice. 
 
If the theological argument was one of "ontology"; if the presumed presenting barrier to the ordination of women was that they did not possess "sufficient ontological matter to be an authentic bearer of a sacerdotal presence," then, by God, it was time for the incarnation.  

Or, as my dear friend Ed Bacon has said, "I'm so glad Mary didn't wait for the formulation of a Doctrine of the Incarnation before she said 'Yes" to God."
 
On July 10, 1974, seven women who were deacons met with four bishops to discuss a possible ordination. A date was set for July 29, 1974 - the Feast of Mary and Martha of Bethany - where, at 11 o'clock in the morning,  eleven women who were deacons were "irregularly" ordained to the priesthood at the Church of the Advocate in Philadelphia, PA. 
 
There were supposed to have been 12 and there's a backstory about "good deacons" and another strong letter from another strong woman to another bishop which I'll leave for another time.
I want to hit the "pause" button again and ask you to let that all sink in.  

The event we so easily refer to as "The Philadelphia Eleven" happened three (3) years after sixty (60) uppity women of little or no institutional standing sent a letter to the Presiding Bishop of The Episcopal Church, rejecting his offer to "study their issue" and asking for money for the "priesthood of all believers" to determine the issue of ordination for women. 

That ordination - and the ordination of women in the church - would not be "regularized" and the canons changed to allow for the ordination of women for another two (2) years

It was not until General Convention in Minneapolis, in September 1976, that the canons were changed. Women began to be ordained "regularly" on January 1, 1977 - six years after the founding of The Episcopal Women's Caucus.
 
Just pause for a moment and put yourself in their sacristy slippers. Imagine waiting two years after your ordination to be declared "legal" and "legitimate". 

Let that sink in.  
 
Now, add to that and understand that in those intervening two years the church absolutely erupted in turmoil. Churches flew their Episcopal flags upside down and at half-mast - a combination of the symbols of international distress and a significant death.  (I am not making this up.)
 
Male clergy who allowed the newly ordained to preside at Eucharist at the altar in their churches were brought up on ecclesiastical charges for "disturbing the peace and well being of the church". (Because, you know. prophetic action never disturbs the peace.)
 
On August 18, 1974, Dr. Charles Willie, the first African American to be Vice President of the House of Deputies, resigned his position in protest of a statement of the House of Bishops which called the ordinations in Philadelphia "invalid"; he referred to the statement as "a blatant exercise of male arrogance." (And, it was, but there was more to come. To wit - )

On October 27, 1974,  a special service was sponsored by the National Council of Churches and held at Riverside Church in NYC to honor and support the Philadelphia ordinations. A  collection was made and sent to Presiding Bishop Allin for the the Presiding Bishops Fund for World Relief. 

Bishop Allin returned the check because of its "tainted" genesis. (You can NOT make this stuff up.)

There's so much more of the story to tell. So much that makes me ashamed of my church. So much that gives me hope for the church.  
 
So much that is the stuff - the good, the bad and the ugly - of the Body of Christ.  
 
As Jack Spong has said, "The church will die of boredom long before it dies of controversy." 
 
But, here's the lesson learned: 'Incarnation beats Idea' any day of the week and twice on Sunday. 

Let me pause and let that sink in: "Incarnation beats Idea". 
Jane Holmes Dixon, Cynthia Black, Mary A.R. MacCloud

After July 29, 1974, ordained women were no longer an abstract idea. 
 
They were a reality. 
 
They were incarnate. 
 
Their "ontological matter" was, in fact, "sufficient" to be an "authentic sacerdotal bearer," because, well, there they were. 
 
Women. And, ordained priests. 

Whatcha gone do now, bro?

Or, as the astute, modern theologian, Woody Allen, once said, "Showing up is 80% of life."
 
I encourage you to read Marge's history of The Caucus. as well as all the many wonderful books that have been written, some by the Philadelphia Eleven themselves. 

I still strongly recommend as an excellent place to start Carter Heyward's, "A Priest Forever" and Alla Bozarth's "Womanpriest."
 
All these books on the ordination of women in The Episcopal Church provide study lessons in religious community organizing which, I think, honors the past and serves the future of this amazing church of ours. 

I write this not just to honor and celebrate The Episcopal Women's Caucus, an organization I was privileged to serve as President/Convener for over a decade, but also because I feel it is more and more imperative that we remember our herstory. 
 
I know. That's probably just the old woman who has quite suddenly (and, without invitation, I might add) taken up residence in my body, talking that mess again. But, I have to admit that I am especially alarmed when I listen to young, newly ordained women who have absolutely no idea about the struggles which allowed the privilege of their status of ordination. 
 
Indeed, as privilege is of't want to do, these women seem completely oblivious to the privilege which is theirs which was hard fought and well won by their sisters.
 
I watch them and I listen to them complain about the flagrant injustices in opportunities and compensation, the insensitivities demonstrated by their bishops and rectors - and the harsh judgements and incessant demands of some of their congregations -  as they try to juggle priesthood and parenthood. 
 
Oh,  hear me clearly: This is not to deny that the struggle is real. It is. Very real.  
 
They complain and seek solace from other clergy, and everyone is empathic and pastoral, but when someone raises the possibility of organizing to change diocesan policy around things like employment, compensation or parenting leave, it stops the conversation immediately. And then, a few months later, someone else posts a complaint and the cycle repeats itself. 
 
Some progress has been made in a few dioceses but the overwhelming status of women in the church is, on average, pretty dismal. Sexism and misogyny continue their powerful presence in our structures and attitudes.
 
I write that even as I celebrate that the church has elected two women to the episcopacy this year alone -  two diocesans, back to back (Spokane and Indianapolis). 

And, and, and... besides the first African American diocesan bishop to be a woman, this is the first time a woman diocesan has been followed by the election of another woman diocesan - the first time that's happened in the church since 1996. (That's 20 years but who's counting?)

That's progress at the top levels of the church.  Which is progress. Undeniably.
 
In my experience (see paragraph above), "trickle down theology" is no more effective than its cousin in economics. That said, I am "a very prisoner of hope" that, as we move past the novelty of "firsts" and even "seconds" and reach a "critical mass" of women in the House of Bishops, the status of women throughout the church will improve.

It's always astounding to me when, at the Booths at General Convention, at least two to three women a day look at the banner proclaiming, "The Episcopal Women's Caucus," and, befuddled and bewildered, ask, "What's that?" 
 
I didn't attend the last General Convention, but I'm told the same thing happened - to the same astonishment of the members of The Caucus. 
 
I actually, physically cringe - because it causes actual emotional, spiritual and physical pain - when I read what some women write in social media. This was posted just the other day about the first African American woman to be elected a Bishop Diocesan, "I just like to see qualified candidates. I don't look so much as to color and gender and race. Those things are divisive." 
 
Le sigh.  See also: The perils of being naive.

The Witch of Endor
I write this, on the occasion of the 45th anniversary of the founding of The Episcopal Women's Caucus to point us to another "nasty woman." 

Tomorrow, October 31st, is the lesser feast of All Hallow's Eve (BCP 106). 
 
In some circles - mostly inhabited by women, it is the even lesser feast of the Witch of Endor.  Indeed, her story (1 Samuel 28:3-25) is included as the first reading of All Hallow's Eve. 

What I love about this story is that it raises lots more than the ghost of Samuel.  Like?  Well, like the fact that misogyny in Endor is as old as the Garden of Eden.
 
Power that can't be controlled must be Evil and if the power of a woman can't be controlled, she must be the embodiment of Evil. The 'woman' of Endor is considered the 'witch' of Endor. 

Women who don't know their place are "uppity".

Women who know how to play political hardball with the big boys are "nasty" and have "so much hate in their heart" they should "lock her up" and any contribution she could make must be "tainted."
 
As we head into this sacred time of facing into what scares and frightens us as we prepare to remember the dead, I ask that you hit the 'pause' button in your life to remember the women.
Remember them and give thanks for all the women / witches in your life and our lives of faith: The Witch of Eden. The Witch of Endor. The Witch of Bethlehem (who had to become a Virgin for her story to be heard and believed!!!). The 60 Witches of The Caucus. The 11 Witches of Philadelphia. The four Witches of Washington. 

Remember that, without a woman named Mary of Bethlehem, God could not have achieved God's greatest creation in the sacrificial, salvific incarnation of Jesus.

And then, do something bold and brave and risky yourself.
 
Say 'no' to same-old-same-old.
 
Say 'yes' to possibility.
 
Be 'nasty' your very own badself and demand the financial resources which will  enable the people of God to remove walls of ignorance and intolerance and build bridges of knowledge and understanding.

Know that you are standing on a very firm foundation.
 
You are standing on the shoulders of giants who were the 'nasty' women of their day. 

You are held in the arms of some pretty amazing witches.

Now, just hit 'pause' for a moment and let all that sink in.