My, it's nice to get good news sometimes, isn't it? I'm celebrating the repeal of DADT today...and thinking about one of my favorite phrases (from UU minister Theodore Parker, and then rephrased by Martin Luther King Jr.): the arc of the universe is long but it bends toward justice.
Some days, like today, I think that must be true. Other days I'm not so sure. As the income gap in America widens and more people are worse off than their parents, I have my moments of despair.
I think there are two things I hold onto. First, although the universe might actually bend in lots of directions, not always toward justice, I am heartened by the fact that what we celebrate, in the moment and years or decades later, is the justice bending. Something in the human psyche can see that this is the right way to bend...something yearns for goodness, as Adler said.
And that's part of the other piece. Whether or not the universe bends toward justice, or frankly whether or not it bends at all, I choose to live my life as though it does...and as though I must be part of that bending, to help it along.
Today it feels as though we've rounded a corner. So, at least for a moment, the bending feels true enough.
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Wednesday, September 14, 2011
America, Land of Persecution?
A couple years ago, I started out the WES year with a platform address about whether we were a secular nation or a Christian one. Then, and still now, I was struck by the number of people who thought we were entirely one or the other: the Christians who went on TV to complain about how the entire nation was becoming horribly secular, the atheists who sued various groups in complaint of the overwhelming and inappropriate Christianization of America. Surely, I thought, America can't be both too secular and too Christian?
When I spoke about this two years ago, I tried to explore what made us secular and what made us Christian, and how Ethical Culture--with its emphasis on diverse beliefs and united action--could bridge the differences. But I'm thinking now that I was barking up the wrong tree.
Because it's almost as if we want to be justified in thinking we're in the minority, want to be the persecuted party. You never hear a secularist talking about all the ways our society is secular, or a Christian noticing that there really is a lot of Christianity around. I guarantee that December will find the Christian pundits railing against the war on Christmas and the secularists writing long diatribes against the fact that you can't escape Christmas. I'm not saying individuals and groups don't experience persecution--they certainly do, at times--but I don't think it's ever quite as bad as the pundits would argue.
So my question today is--what is it about us that wants to be persecuted? Do we get points somewhere for being the most put upon? Is it just media hype and sensationalism? Or is there something deeper at work, something about American society and the appeal of being the victim? What do you think?
When I spoke about this two years ago, I tried to explore what made us secular and what made us Christian, and how Ethical Culture--with its emphasis on diverse beliefs and united action--could bridge the differences. But I'm thinking now that I was barking up the wrong tree.
Because it's almost as if we want to be justified in thinking we're in the minority, want to be the persecuted party. You never hear a secularist talking about all the ways our society is secular, or a Christian noticing that there really is a lot of Christianity around. I guarantee that December will find the Christian pundits railing against the war on Christmas and the secularists writing long diatribes against the fact that you can't escape Christmas. I'm not saying individuals and groups don't experience persecution--they certainly do, at times--but I don't think it's ever quite as bad as the pundits would argue.
So my question today is--what is it about us that wants to be persecuted? Do we get points somewhere for being the most put upon? Is it just media hype and sensationalism? Or is there something deeper at work, something about American society and the appeal of being the victim? What do you think?
Monday, September 12, 2011
Mama Mindfulness
There are really only two ways to hold a baby.
First, you can devote your whole mind and body to the holding, cradling and bouncing the baby, inhaling her scent and gazing at her little dimpled knees. Or, you bounce and jiggle and rock while you're scanning the newspaper, or talking on the phone, or trying to listen to your spouse, or your other child, or the radio. If you're really talented, you can bounce and rock while checking email or reading a book (having a Kindle helps--much easier to turn pages with one finger).
The truth is that most of the time, both ways work just fine. A relatively happy baby doesn't mind that much if you are also reading the newspaper while you cuddle him. But just wait for the baby to turn sad--or hungry, or tired, or otherwise cranky--and you will find that there is suddenly only one way to hold a baby. I've never yet successfully calmed a fussy baby while also checking email.
As I ease back into my professional life, while still spending most of my time with my now 8-week old, I'm aware of how tempting it is to try to do everything at once. To check email while talking on the phone, to surf the net while watching TV. I've even tried multitasking meditation: surely I can get in a workout while doing a walking meditation and occasionally checking my cell for text messages?
Just like a baby, a happy and smooth day allows us to do a certain amount of multitasking. But when life gets rough, we need to drop the phone and let go of the newspaper and just calm the baby, or ourselves; just attend to the person in front of us, or the email that needs answering.
So here's to the times when we can do it all, and the times when we can do just one thing, but do it well.
First, you can devote your whole mind and body to the holding, cradling and bouncing the baby, inhaling her scent and gazing at her little dimpled knees. Or, you bounce and jiggle and rock while you're scanning the newspaper, or talking on the phone, or trying to listen to your spouse, or your other child, or the radio. If you're really talented, you can bounce and rock while checking email or reading a book (having a Kindle helps--much easier to turn pages with one finger).
The truth is that most of the time, both ways work just fine. A relatively happy baby doesn't mind that much if you are also reading the newspaper while you cuddle him. But just wait for the baby to turn sad--or hungry, or tired, or otherwise cranky--and you will find that there is suddenly only one way to hold a baby. I've never yet successfully calmed a fussy baby while also checking email.
As I ease back into my professional life, while still spending most of my time with my now 8-week old, I'm aware of how tempting it is to try to do everything at once. To check email while talking on the phone, to surf the net while watching TV. I've even tried multitasking meditation: surely I can get in a workout while doing a walking meditation and occasionally checking my cell for text messages?
Just like a baby, a happy and smooth day allows us to do a certain amount of multitasking. But when life gets rough, we need to drop the phone and let go of the newspaper and just calm the baby, or ourselves; just attend to the person in front of us, or the email that needs answering.
So here's to the times when we can do it all, and the times when we can do just one thing, but do it well.
Friday, July 1, 2011
Monogamy: Truth and Lies
The New York Times has a great article in this weekend's magazine about infidelity, monogamy, and what marriages are for. For me, it picked up on a lot of pieces that I explored last February, in a platform address I gave called "Ethical Sex." In the address, I wondered about what makes sex ethical: is it a covenant between two people, unbroken over years? Or is it about the respect and caring brought to the relationship, whether that relationship lasts decades or one night?
The NYTimes piece opens up the possibility that non-monogamy--rather than unsuccessful monogamy (which would be referred to as cheating)--might be a valid choice for some married couples. It also explores, though, what happens when someone does cheat, and what a strong marriage's reaction could be. The basic idea is that marriage is about stability, about creating stable families, not about two people being everything for each other for all time...and not about saying to heck with the stability offered if one of the partners isn't faithful.
Of course I was especially interested in two references to clergy in the article, and the preparation they do (or don't) offer to couples before marriage. I've changed my own pre-marital spiel to include some conversation about how fidelity is important--but can mean different things to different couples. I encourage couples to talk about and explore what it means to them, and to be aware of how it might change over time.
But I haven't specifically talked about betrayal--whether it's romantic or sexual, as in this article, or some other kind of betrayal--and the importance for married couples to see the value of the relationship as the higher good. I'm no advocate of staying in horrible marriages, of course, but I do agree with Dan Savage (the columnist highlighted in the article) that forgiveness is as important a value in a marriage as fidelity.
So maybe I should be asking the hopeful, excited couples I marry to think about betrayal a little bit more...and how their marriage can withstand it.
The NYTimes piece opens up the possibility that non-monogamy--rather than unsuccessful monogamy (which would be referred to as cheating)--might be a valid choice for some married couples. It also explores, though, what happens when someone does cheat, and what a strong marriage's reaction could be. The basic idea is that marriage is about stability, about creating stable families, not about two people being everything for each other for all time...and not about saying to heck with the stability offered if one of the partners isn't faithful.
Of course I was especially interested in two references to clergy in the article, and the preparation they do (or don't) offer to couples before marriage. I've changed my own pre-marital spiel to include some conversation about how fidelity is important--but can mean different things to different couples. I encourage couples to talk about and explore what it means to them, and to be aware of how it might change over time.
But I haven't specifically talked about betrayal--whether it's romantic or sexual, as in this article, or some other kind of betrayal--and the importance for married couples to see the value of the relationship as the higher good. I'm no advocate of staying in horrible marriages, of course, but I do agree with Dan Savage (the columnist highlighted in the article) that forgiveness is as important a value in a marriage as fidelity.
So maybe I should be asking the hopeful, excited couples I marry to think about betrayal a little bit more...and how their marriage can withstand it.
Monday, June 27, 2011
My Day in Jail
So last Saturday was up there among the most exciting days I've had in a while. I was arrested for civil disobedience, along with 11 other activists, in front of the White House. We were rallying for voting rights and home rule in the District of Columbia, and I was proud to stand up (and then, sit down) for the cause.
Folks have been asking me what jail was like, and I wanted to share a few reflections. First, we were within the jurisdiction of the Park Police, and they were really very respectful and accommodating. They cuffed me in front so I'd be more comfortable, and they arrested me last so that I'd have the least amount of time in the van. At the processing station, they brought me a chair so I wouldn't have to stand, and although they did put me in a cell for a bit while I waited for my husband to bring the $100 for the forfeiture fine, they actually let me out after a bit and had me wait in the main area, which had more comfortable seating than the metal bench in the cell itself. I couldn't have asked to have been arrested by nicer officers.
But all of that kindness and care they showed me has me thinking about privilege. Of course they were accommodating partly because I'm 8 months pregnant, but plenty of the accommodation came because I'm white, was well dressed, am clergy, was arrested for civil disobedience...the list goes on. As nice as the officers were, I'm sure they can be pretty tough. I felt so clear that all the privileges I carry with me meant that they weren't going to be tough on me. Only once did I even feel some awareness that we weren't all just hanging out: when one of the officers, with whom I didn't interact much, decided my plastic handcuffs were too loose. He pulled them tight with conviction, and suddenly I realized that I really couldn't get out of them.
As I reflect on the experience, I think about all of the people in our country who can't seem to get out of handcuffs. The ones who are not always treated with kindness and respect, whose lives appear to point them in the direction of our extensive penal system...and not because of chosen, righteous civil disobedience. My day in jail was no big deal. A lifetime in jail--a generation in jail--is something very different.
Folks have been asking me what jail was like, and I wanted to share a few reflections. First, we were within the jurisdiction of the Park Police, and they were really very respectful and accommodating. They cuffed me in front so I'd be more comfortable, and they arrested me last so that I'd have the least amount of time in the van. At the processing station, they brought me a chair so I wouldn't have to stand, and although they did put me in a cell for a bit while I waited for my husband to bring the $100 for the forfeiture fine, they actually let me out after a bit and had me wait in the main area, which had more comfortable seating than the metal bench in the cell itself. I couldn't have asked to have been arrested by nicer officers.
But all of that kindness and care they showed me has me thinking about privilege. Of course they were accommodating partly because I'm 8 months pregnant, but plenty of the accommodation came because I'm white, was well dressed, am clergy, was arrested for civil disobedience...the list goes on. As nice as the officers were, I'm sure they can be pretty tough. I felt so clear that all the privileges I carry with me meant that they weren't going to be tough on me. Only once did I even feel some awareness that we weren't all just hanging out: when one of the officers, with whom I didn't interact much, decided my plastic handcuffs were too loose. He pulled them tight with conviction, and suddenly I realized that I really couldn't get out of them.
As I reflect on the experience, I think about all of the people in our country who can't seem to get out of handcuffs. The ones who are not always treated with kindness and respect, whose lives appear to point them in the direction of our extensive penal system...and not because of chosen, righteous civil disobedience. My day in jail was no big deal. A lifetime in jail--a generation in jail--is something very different.
Monday, June 6, 2011
Pulling Up Weeds
I spent the morning gardening, which always gets me in a reflective mood about congregational life. I can't help but make every aspect a metaphor: the length of time it takes for perennials to really show their beauty and the length of time we need to see the fruits of our labors in a congregation; the way I learn more about my plants each year, just as I learn more about the people that I serve; even the grow-throughs that I use to support my taller plants and all that we need to support our lay leaders as they reach for the sun. I'm telling you, it can get a little over the top!
Some days when I'm gardening I find myself with a kind of deep respect for weeds. There they are, no less a plant than any flower I've chosen to put there, tenacious and deep-rooted and awfully hard to get rid of. I start ruminating on the inherent worth of plants, and why we decide some are better than others...and how much easier it would be if we decided the invasive weeds were really what we wanted surrounding our houses and in our flower gardens.
Today, though--perhaps because my seven months pregnant self is finding it harder and harder to bend and get those darn weeds up--I was a little short on weed-love. Instead, my thoughts turned to the weeds in our own lives, the things about ourselves or about our environment that we really do want to tear up, root out, remove. Whether they are bad habits or ways of reacting to certain situations, we all have parts of ourselves that we wish we could change. And so often, they feel like the most deeply-rooted parts of ourselves!
Like so many things, I think our ability to change our own weeds is tied to our ability to be self-reflective and self-aware. And that, I believe more and more, depends on our ability to be quiet, to be still, to listen to the movement of the world around us.
So maybe working in my garden--one of my more meditative pursuits--is actually a way to rid myself of weeds both literal and metaphorical. Certainly the lavender is breathing a little better, and so am I.
Some days when I'm gardening I find myself with a kind of deep respect for weeds. There they are, no less a plant than any flower I've chosen to put there, tenacious and deep-rooted and awfully hard to get rid of. I start ruminating on the inherent worth of plants, and why we decide some are better than others...and how much easier it would be if we decided the invasive weeds were really what we wanted surrounding our houses and in our flower gardens.
Today, though--perhaps because my seven months pregnant self is finding it harder and harder to bend and get those darn weeds up--I was a little short on weed-love. Instead, my thoughts turned to the weeds in our own lives, the things about ourselves or about our environment that we really do want to tear up, root out, remove. Whether they are bad habits or ways of reacting to certain situations, we all have parts of ourselves that we wish we could change. And so often, they feel like the most deeply-rooted parts of ourselves!
Like so many things, I think our ability to change our own weeds is tied to our ability to be self-reflective and self-aware. And that, I believe more and more, depends on our ability to be quiet, to be still, to listen to the movement of the world around us.
So maybe working in my garden--one of my more meditative pursuits--is actually a way to rid myself of weeds both literal and metaphorical. Certainly the lavender is breathing a little better, and so am I.
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
The changing of the guard
Of course I've been following the royal wedding--who hasn't? I can't wait to see Kate's dress, and I think it's great they're having an extra chocolate cake for Will.
But one of the most interesting things to me is the renewed interest in who will be king next. The headline on the Washington Post online said it all: "In Britain, Prince William Threatens to Eclipse His Father." Even more telling was the picture that accompanied it, of both of them in their military dress uniforms. Charles, a little stooped, walked in front. Will, the picture of youthful vitality, stood taller behind, smiling at the camera.
There may be good reasons for Will to ascend to the throne and Charles to be skipped over. But it seems to me that the reasons given in the press tend to boil down to the same thing: Will is younger, he's cuter, and he hasn't yet messed up his life.
And what I wonder is what all this says not about our fascination with royalty (that's a whole different blog post) but about our fascination with the unspoiled fantasy of youth. Charles seems to have made some decisions that weren't perfect, certainly to have led a life that hasn't turned out perfectly. But what life has? If the only argument for Will's immediate kingship is that his life looks perfect so far, the people who clamor for his ascendancy now are only likely to be disappointed.
Age, it seems to me, brings with it the realization that perfection is impossible. Perhaps we find it disheartening because we want to cling to the idea that it is possible, at least for the royals among us. It seems to me, though, that the realization often makes for a more honest, more genuine human being. And isn't that what one might want in a king?
But one of the most interesting things to me is the renewed interest in who will be king next. The headline on the Washington Post online said it all: "In Britain, Prince William Threatens to Eclipse His Father." Even more telling was the picture that accompanied it, of both of them in their military dress uniforms. Charles, a little stooped, walked in front. Will, the picture of youthful vitality, stood taller behind, smiling at the camera.
There may be good reasons for Will to ascend to the throne and Charles to be skipped over. But it seems to me that the reasons given in the press tend to boil down to the same thing: Will is younger, he's cuter, and he hasn't yet messed up his life.
And what I wonder is what all this says not about our fascination with royalty (that's a whole different blog post) but about our fascination with the unspoiled fantasy of youth. Charles seems to have made some decisions that weren't perfect, certainly to have led a life that hasn't turned out perfectly. But what life has? If the only argument for Will's immediate kingship is that his life looks perfect so far, the people who clamor for his ascendancy now are only likely to be disappointed.
Age, it seems to me, brings with it the realization that perfection is impossible. Perhaps we find it disheartening because we want to cling to the idea that it is possible, at least for the royals among us. It seems to me, though, that the realization often makes for a more honest, more genuine human being. And isn't that what one might want in a king?
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