Grace is always good. Creating space for a pause is a healthy thing for a system to do. I believe more dissertations would be completed, for example, if the time constraints were removed. More art would be made if basic living needs were met first -it’s not about paint or clay. Counter-intuitive perhaps but nonetheless true.
I don’t know how much fear of that grief drives climate inaction -it’s a really messy and complicated topic. But honestly, I think many people don’t get more involved or more deeply active because they have no idea what’s happening around them. I don’t mean a general apathy or disengagement. I mean they simply do not get word, don’t know a group is cleaning up that creek, or have no idea that all you need for composting is to sign up. The planet needs a town crier staff.
One of my most profound learnings as a youth minister was the realization -the revelation really- that my ministry was with the parents of the youth as well as the youth themselves. I needed relationships with the whole family system -or at least more of it than I had previously understood- in order to function well.
It is the small connections that anchor us not only to each other, but to our own lives and selves. I’m a fan of the four-way stop as a traffic intervention because it forces interaction between drivers. But all the small exchanges matter. Nodding to the stranger we pass on the street, or the neighbor. Taking the extra minute for the next question. It’s more than giving up a parking place.
We must know ourselves more deeply than we do, that we might be less swayed away from our cores when challenged. We must know what truly motivates us, not just what we’re willing to do. And we must discover what motivates others -it probably isn’t what we thought. We must engage more critically and full-heartedly with our common and civic lives, even if only in increased communication with family or neighbors.
Restorative justice is hard, intimidating. We are used to a retributive model, wherein crimes are punished, criminals become marked as separate, and punishment is harsh. We have dallied in this country with some rehabilitative justice models, and those are of course more effective than the retributive, but less politically popular, rarely fully funded, and still missing the mark.
as I consider the Incarnation of the Divine this year, I’m struck not by that infant but by his parents, a couple on a journey -not one they’d planned nor would’ve chosen, the trip to Bethlehem for the Census, but also their broader journey. An unplanned child. Visions of justice proclaimed by Mary. The flight to a foreign land for their safety, perceived by the dreamer Joseph. The parents of Jesus of Nazareth were on their own journey of life, one full of danger and protection, vision and purpose.
my mom started getting up at five am, to give her extra time in the day for her. Only for her. She developed a ritual of prayer, scripture reading, journaling, and body movement that she did alone and in silence each morning until her death. When truly alone in the house, she added song to her routine.
I believe that worthwhile actions are those that unfold, evolve, and emerge. Very rarely, but sometimes, these include special events with an intended purpose such as a march or rally around a cause, a theme, an anniversary in time. I even gladly participate in these kinds of actions when called to them by those I follow, such as Indigenous voices, youth and children, or on-the-ground collaborative partners.
I have learned that a hand placed on my back, or any simple touch, with the reminder to breathe can re-focus me. I have learned that I can stop my own spirals into anxious patterns with slow and controlled movement, breath, and speech. I have learned that I can channel my despair and confusion into art, poetry, if I just slow down enough to let it change.
I mention these moments from my young life to highlight how impossible any of that would be today. Were I now living as a young adult in Kentucky, I would not have automatic unemployment if fired. I would not have access to full medical care just because I was a student. I would never be able to afford the $32,000 out-of-state price tag and wouldn’t make the $12,000 in-state any more easily no matter how many jobs I had or little sleep I got.
My wrist is tattooed with “Stoma kai Sophia”, a phrase in Greek from the Gospel of Luke. Jesus is telling his followers what life will be like after he’s gone. He says that if they are living out the Gospel, they’re going to get into some trouble, be hauled before judges and magistrates. Jesus advice is that we not plan ahead what we will say, for we will receive Stoma kai Sophia -wit and wisdom, courage and insight, fortitude and creativity.
I have been asked to speak at a Climate Justice retreat about the potential before us in regards to living with Climate Change, and I suppose that syntax itself reveals my first point. We are living with it now. It isn’t stoppable. What IS stoppable are the worst effects of inaction, and for that we need only begin.
As a Southerner, church is expected. Synagogue or mosque is of course an acceptable substitute, and my hometown of Memphis has a vibrant and robust Jewish and Muslim community. ‘Where one goes to church’ is an introductory question, and even those who don’t really claim any faith often have an answer ready for that query.
But we still have the same separations along the wide spectrum of faith traditions that you’ll find in any American city. The left leaning Houses of Worship communicate, the right leaning ones collaborate, but little common interaction happens. So we grow up in silos as tight as any country church in many ways.
As a teenager, I broke into some of the conservative christian communities when I was ‘outed’ as a Christian. I think act I fascinated the conservative church goers I knew, because I was a theatre person and known to be political. They started asking me questions and inviting me to things but it didn’t quite go as they’d planned. I got kicked out of a bible study (a great story I’ll tell another time), was asked not to return to a church that hosted monthly lock-ins, and occasionally got into shouting matches with friends in the halls.
The biggest distinctions and the thing that seemed to truly raise their ire, was some iteration of this conversation:
Them: But that sounds like a social justice Gospel.
Me: I don’t know any other kind of Gospel.
Them: We are saved by grace, not works.
Me: Faith without works is dead.
Them: People have to believe in Jesus.
Me: If they don’t do what he said to do, why bother?
In many ways, I dove into theological education in order to be better equipped for those conversations. But I now realize what an opportunity I missed timing wise! This was the 1980s, and I was receiving fruits from the first wave of our modern christian political complex. Little did I know then that the term “Social Justice Gospel” was coined by a Baptist theologian over 100 years ago. It isn’t new, leftie, or radical -it’s just the Gospel and it’s solid Christian tradition. Who knows how much of that tenuous ground I could have shaken up, kept from setting, if I’d just realized I was seeing glimpses of a coordinated, strategic attack on Gospel Truth.
Maybe ‘Gospel Truth’ isn’t a commonly used phrase in your life, but I grew up in the American South. Faith-based language permeates everything, and swearing something is the gospel truth is a promise of truth-telling. Unless said with a wink and a “Bless their hearts” and then you know there’s no truth anywhere ‘round at all. And so culturally, the meaning of Gospel Truth is fungible, movable.
Elected officials swear oaths of office most typically on a bible, as most elected officials claim to be Christians, but any text sacred to you is acceptable, which is interesting in and of itself. What exactly is being vowed here? The words spoken have to do with upholding the jurisdictional Constitution or Charter, and being accountable to constituencies. But there are never explicit moral or religious promises made. So why swear on a bible?
I grew up in the 1970’s when we all still said the Pledge of Allegiance every morning to start school. By the 1980’s, this had been replaced by a moment of silence, an interesting swap of patriotic vow for pseudo-prayer time. I didn’t learn about the addition in the 1950’s of references to God not only there but on our money until I went to college.
It also took time to learn more in-depth church history, and to discover the ways in which Christianity moved from an anti-Empire movement to becoming the moral voice of the secular powers, the frequent provider of the rationale for colonial expansion.
Many years ago, I decided to stand but remain silent during any Pledge of Allegiance or singing of the national anthem as my own response to a growing discontent. At first, I would say the Pledge but omit the “under God” line, but that did not satisfy me. Eventually, I adopted the choice to remain silent, but then Colin Kaepernick modeled a new way of resistance. His actions and the vitriol that followed led me to think again about my relationship with vows. About what it means to swear on something sacred.
Where I’ve landed for now is no more vows. I’ve made marriage vows and ordination vows and upholding those is a lifelong journey. I think we need to step back more often, and consider what it means to align ourselves, swear something’s true, vow an allegiance, or adhere to a theory. We need more critical thinking. More prayer. More humility. And more integrity to what we say we believe and hold sacred.
I believe that I have been naïve about holding onto even a redeemed view of any faith-based nationalism, especially one aligned with Christianity. The more deeply I read the Gospels, the more carefully I read Paul’s letters, the more is revealed to me about the truly subversive and radical nature of Christianity, the ways in which the teachings of Jesus upend and transform our world and bring us back to the root of all things, God’s love and grace.
Language conflict can be subtle -like the shifting of a Pauline message that in Greek calls for the equitable redistribution of resources by need and ability into an English “fair balance” that promotes a very unjust practice of giving the same to everyone. There isn’t a huge learning curve when a different translation is offered in such a situation. Yes, this small but significant language shift does totally reframe the traditional take on Paul’s message to the church, both today and then in Corinth, but it brings that message more in line with the Gospel, more in line with other things Paul says, and is more helpful to any community learning how to love each other.
I’ve been married for almost 30 years. The most important thing I’ve learned might be how to monitor my own communication, how to watch my tone and choose my words from a place of love first. It took a long time to learn this, and I often fail at the tone part. I can be petty and snarky, especially when tired or hungry. But my spouse and I trust each other, and that’s really crucial for any of it to work.
