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Somedays, I feel like a space alien.
I tried to talk about this feeling in my parish integration class (more on that in a sec), the feeling that I am often just not talking the same language as other people. And am never really sure if I'm communicating what I truly feel or think.
I tried to say in integration class that while I am surrounded by friends, I often feel lonely. This is not for lack of good or close or 'real' friendships, but perhaps I mean that I feel so different, coming from such a different experience, than my seminarian friends. I simply cannot make them understand what I'm talking about when I talk about activism; they don't have that inherent pull or part of their lives. [And I brought this up in integration class, as I often bring up things that happen in my life on campus as a student, because it's a class about integrating ministry with your whole life. Can't go around pretending the twenty hours or so a week I spend on campus doesn't exist, or only involves my brain getting full with abstract stuff].
So, when I tried to bring this up in class, one of my classmates said, I just need to go out and make more friends outside of seminary, that would be good self-care. Well, I think she meant well, but the comment wasn't really helpful. And then I realized she probably just can't get it, it's just outside her experience. Maybe.
This is not the same for when I'm around my activist friends. In fact, I am better able to talk theology with my activist friends than I am able to talk activism with my seminary friends. Perhaps this is because talking about God is doing theology, whereas even getting to the point of talking about activism with my seminary friends, isn't really the same as doing it together.
And that is a problem that I see in the seminaries today: that we talk about activism, but we don't really have ways of encouraging people to go out there and do it. You're really on your own, even if all your professors themselves brag about having marched with MLK or against the war or whatever. There's no 'field studies requirement' built in for talking to Congresspeople, or negotiating interfaith understanding, or human rights accompaniment, or other things for which religious leaders are so desperately needed in the world these days. In fact, it's hard to find a good course on just plain community (or congregational) organizing.
I thought that, and then I read it in a book this morning, that seminaries basically over-educate and under-equip students for ministry with other people. What little training happens is farmed out to practice parishes, and not talked about with professors with much parish experience.
So yes, I feel alienated in seminary, even though I'm surrounded by friends. I feel that I should have something more to say about this, something more profound, but that's perhaps all. Although, I am rather attracted to the title of Dorothy Day's autobiography, 'The Long Loneliness,' and for the parts I've read of it, I think I find it comforting. Loneliness, after all, is not the worst cost when living the life that I have chosen.
peace,
Le Anne
Monday, March 10, 2008
Wednesday, March 05, 2008
Bad blogger, again
Already a whole month has gone by and I haven't posted anything. Bad blogger, bad. No biscuit!
This is not to say I've been doing nothing, or even writing nothing.
School is definitely back in session for the spring, and I see that I've spent more time writing to organize at school, as usual. 'Pastoral' letters, letters to the editor, letters to the administration, letters of inquiry, letters to friends in jail, and letters to friends at seminary and elsewhere who are panicked because I am going to jail.
Let alone leaves of a notebook, stuffed full, waiting to be typed up and put to some good use: reflections on ministry, poems, articles, theologies ('God-talks'), future book chapters, rants--about life in general, and from the viewpoint of an activist seminarian in particular.
Plans. Did I mention plans? Budgets? Pro forma? Flowcharts? Yikes.
Oodles and oodles of meeting notes. Oh, and class notes. Sometimes I take those too. With rants in the margins. Or more 'God-talk'.
To-do lists. I seem to always write them, and then can never find them again when I need them.
I've been carrying around my book manuscript too, trying to make revisions. I have since learned that the worst thing to say when approached while doing this is, "I'm making revisions to my book." This will start a conversation that will quite possibly erode all the time you had planned for actually making those revisions. Apologies, Sandy, I'll send it in soon...
I need these tangible writings in life though. I need to feel paper and pen, or printed-out copy, and to see others reading and responding and the expressions on their faces when doing so. Not always, but often, when I go on jags away from writing online. Real human interaction. Call me old-fashioned, but in over a decade of writing online, I still find no fully-fulfilling substitute.
After a while, after I've had my fill though, I'll collect all these pieces and put them here, or nearby. I'm looking forward to it, and it's also a relief of sorts. In most of that past decade, I've lost track of the written pages. They simply take up too much room, and are hard to leaf through. But I can look back at the past five years on this blog, for example, and remember I used to have a very different life. That too, is helpful. And very fulfilling.
Speaking of which, I think I may be going back to that life, at least in part, soon. I had a good conversation, and need to make a few phone calls and see. More to come...
This is not to say I've been doing nothing, or even writing nothing.
School is definitely back in session for the spring, and I see that I've spent more time writing to organize at school, as usual. 'Pastoral' letters, letters to the editor, letters to the administration, letters of inquiry, letters to friends in jail, and letters to friends at seminary and elsewhere who are panicked because I am going to jail.
Let alone leaves of a notebook, stuffed full, waiting to be typed up and put to some good use: reflections on ministry, poems, articles, theologies ('God-talks'), future book chapters, rants--about life in general, and from the viewpoint of an activist seminarian in particular.
Plans. Did I mention plans? Budgets? Pro forma? Flowcharts? Yikes.
Oodles and oodles of meeting notes. Oh, and class notes. Sometimes I take those too. With rants in the margins. Or more 'God-talk'.
To-do lists. I seem to always write them, and then can never find them again when I need them.
I've been carrying around my book manuscript too, trying to make revisions. I have since learned that the worst thing to say when approached while doing this is, "I'm making revisions to my book." This will start a conversation that will quite possibly erode all the time you had planned for actually making those revisions. Apologies, Sandy, I'll send it in soon...
I need these tangible writings in life though. I need to feel paper and pen, or printed-out copy, and to see others reading and responding and the expressions on their faces when doing so. Not always, but often, when I go on jags away from writing online. Real human interaction. Call me old-fashioned, but in over a decade of writing online, I still find no fully-fulfilling substitute.
After a while, after I've had my fill though, I'll collect all these pieces and put them here, or nearby. I'm looking forward to it, and it's also a relief of sorts. In most of that past decade, I've lost track of the written pages. They simply take up too much room, and are hard to leaf through. But I can look back at the past five years on this blog, for example, and remember I used to have a very different life. That too, is helpful. And very fulfilling.
Speaking of which, I think I may be going back to that life, at least in part, soon. I had a good conversation, and need to make a few phone calls and see. More to come...
Saturday, March 01, 2008
Civil Resistance
Sermon for the week of February 29, 2008
University Methodist, Madison, WI
1 Sam 16: 1-13, Psalm 23, Eph. 5:8-14, John 9:1-41
Good morning everyone,
It is an honor to be here with you this morning, and an encouragement to see so many faces of old friends and new, especially those of you who have been with me throughout this weekend in Madison as I speak about our work together for peace. I hope I might have something useful to share.
--
Psalm 23 is a familiar comfort to us, so often in times of sorrow, or distress, at funerals most especially, but helpful in any difficult time. "Even though I walk in the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me." "You make me lie down in green pastures and restore my soul." "I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever." Yes, these are words of often-needed comfort and assurance.
However, there is something discomforting in the other two passages for today. In Romans we have a catchy passage on darkness and light; we know who wins. And yet verses like these in our broken world can quickly be twisted into a preference for light skin over dark. Be on the watch against those who mishandle these verses, promoting white supremacy, sowing hate. It does happen. We must not let it pass.
This is also a caution for the Gospel lesson today. The question, ‘who sinned, that this man was born blind?’ is still asked in different contexts and different subtleties today. We still assign a social stigma to those with disabilities, a stigma of lesser-humanity, of lesser-intelligence. We equate "blindness" in our churches with immorality, without considering how this is heard by those who are physically blind. We must not allow this either.
The title suggested for my sermon today, 'Civil Resistance,' is not a term familiar with today. I often use the terms 'Civil Disobedience,' or 'Divine Obedience,' and was not so sure I liked the sound of the term. But then I got to thinking, that the purpose of 'Civil Resistance' is really to 'Resist incivility.' Resist incivility wherever it happens and creates harm and brokenness among God's creation. I believe this must be done in nonviolence, and with a care not to cause further harm.
What we see in this Gospel story is a heavy dose of incivility, showing up on the part of the neighbors and religious leaders of this blind man and his family. In fact it's so bad, the family is afraid to resist--after all, they'd be kicked out of the synagogue, the congregation they have known and loved.
Here is a blind man who is no longer blind, and no longer silent, no longer being made irrelevant in his home and congregation and community; he has been witness to something powerful and true, and he is causing a stir. He won't quit! He is resisting their games, obedient to something more than narrow-minded human authority.
Similarly, Romans is asking us to shine a light, to uncover, to expose systems of injustice and not cooperate with them by keeping them silent. The systems of injustice are powerful as they are harmful, and real consequences exist for those who take these risks.
I know of a few other acts of civil resistance, good ones that try to heed this call, and I want to share them with you:
Of course, I've been asked to talk about our arrest for nonviolent civil disobedience at the School of the Americas, an action taken to call attention to the ongoing abuses committed by graduates of the SOA, of church workers needing to flee their parishes in South America; of known human rights abusers from these schools coming to teach the students, actions that speak louder than the words of the so-called human rights curriculum.
But I also want to tell you about Raging Grannies, senior women who will also not be silenced, who sing loud and with wit against our systems of militarism and destruction of our earth.
I want to tell you about civilian diplomacy, such as the trips to Iran organized by the Fellowship of Reconciliation. If our leaders won't meet to make peace, at least honest people are willing to try.
Now, I also need to tell you about a man I know, blind from birth, who even still became a professor at Seton Hall and retired honorably. He, too, crossed the line at the SOA, not just this year but several times before. The judge refused to prosecute him, and he was sent away to be silent. But he will not be silent, and he will not go quietly away. He came back again and again, and this past January, he stood in front of the judge and demanded the same sentence as others got; he demanded to be treated as an equal being; equally intelligent (moreso, with his degrees), equally convinced and convicted. The judge, embarrassed, asked if he would take house arrest. He said no. He got ninety days and a fine. This man will not be underestimated by the civil authorities.
When I have chosen civil disobedience, it has been at times when I have not just felt strongly convicted of the justice and need of the cause, but also that I have considered my ability at the time to bear the costs--whether jail time, or fines, or other burdens that may arise. I am not just ready, but able, to serve my sentence, and I continue to prepare spiritually for it.
Perhaps you are asking yourself, how far can you go? Well, if you have the means to act larger, the time and freedom, by all means do so. To whom much has been given, much will be required.
However, do not despair if you don’t have such means. There cannot be any hierarchy among actions or those who act. No one should ever feel coerced into such a move as this. The costs can be quite high. And, more importantly, most significant acts of civil resistence take place closer to home. Do not underestimate the resistance of a woman finding freedom from from her abusive partner. Or the resistance of joining the Sanctuary movement to provide safety in our churches. Or the necessity of calling our Congresspeople to voice objection to injustice and suffering. When you can do no other, you can always pick up the phone.
But it is amazing what some folks do, that we assume they can't do. In Chicago where I live, a few months ago, people in wheelchairs "stormed" the State of Illinois building, fed up with not being taken seriously, and with the State's slowness to make transportation and other public services more accesssible. Let me tell you: three wheelchairs stop up an elevator. Four hundred wheelchairs bring a whole building to a standstill, damn quick. And those baffled police officers--it seems the paddy wagons weren't wheelchair-accessible, either! Truly these people were living out this Gospel like none other.
Yes, there are laws, customs, conventions that are unjust; Biblical interpretations that are unjust and lead to injustice; there are so many of these that are just plain un-civil. And it will take resistance to change them, to create a more just and more equal world. The road is long. And sometimes it hurts. And sometimes when you think it won't hurt so much, it hurts more, a lot, like you never expected. Sometimes you are like the blind man healed, with not just sight but insight, and you find yourself cast out by your community, even your congregation, even perhaps your family, and you are lying there, at the side of the road, wondering, crying, "Who is this Jesus? Please, show me!" And it is then, in the pain, in the loneliness, that God has not abandoned us, that sits with us and holds us; this is the Christ sometimes we can only see reflected in others; other times God calls us to reflect this light to those who suffer around us.
Be that light.
Receive that light.
Go forth, speak truth, and believe, confident in God's love.
Amen.
University Methodist, Madison, WI
1 Sam 16: 1-13, Psalm 23, Eph. 5:8-14, John 9:1-41
Good morning everyone,
It is an honor to be here with you this morning, and an encouragement to see so many faces of old friends and new, especially those of you who have been with me throughout this weekend in Madison as I speak about our work together for peace. I hope I might have something useful to share.
--
Psalm 23 is a familiar comfort to us, so often in times of sorrow, or distress, at funerals most especially, but helpful in any difficult time. "Even though I walk in the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for you are with me." "You make me lie down in green pastures and restore my soul." "I shall dwell in the house of the Lord forever." Yes, these are words of often-needed comfort and assurance.
However, there is something discomforting in the other two passages for today. In Romans we have a catchy passage on darkness and light; we know who wins. And yet verses like these in our broken world can quickly be twisted into a preference for light skin over dark. Be on the watch against those who mishandle these verses, promoting white supremacy, sowing hate. It does happen. We must not let it pass.
This is also a caution for the Gospel lesson today. The question, ‘who sinned, that this man was born blind?’ is still asked in different contexts and different subtleties today. We still assign a social stigma to those with disabilities, a stigma of lesser-humanity, of lesser-intelligence. We equate "blindness" in our churches with immorality, without considering how this is heard by those who are physically blind. We must not allow this either.
The title suggested for my sermon today, 'Civil Resistance,' is not a term familiar with today. I often use the terms 'Civil Disobedience,' or 'Divine Obedience,' and was not so sure I liked the sound of the term. But then I got to thinking, that the purpose of 'Civil Resistance' is really to 'Resist incivility.' Resist incivility wherever it happens and creates harm and brokenness among God's creation. I believe this must be done in nonviolence, and with a care not to cause further harm.
What we see in this Gospel story is a heavy dose of incivility, showing up on the part of the neighbors and religious leaders of this blind man and his family. In fact it's so bad, the family is afraid to resist--after all, they'd be kicked out of the synagogue, the congregation they have known and loved.
Here is a blind man who is no longer blind, and no longer silent, no longer being made irrelevant in his home and congregation and community; he has been witness to something powerful and true, and he is causing a stir. He won't quit! He is resisting their games, obedient to something more than narrow-minded human authority.
Similarly, Romans is asking us to shine a light, to uncover, to expose systems of injustice and not cooperate with them by keeping them silent. The systems of injustice are powerful as they are harmful, and real consequences exist for those who take these risks.
I know of a few other acts of civil resistance, good ones that try to heed this call, and I want to share them with you:
Of course, I've been asked to talk about our arrest for nonviolent civil disobedience at the School of the Americas, an action taken to call attention to the ongoing abuses committed by graduates of the SOA, of church workers needing to flee their parishes in South America; of known human rights abusers from these schools coming to teach the students, actions that speak louder than the words of the so-called human rights curriculum.
But I also want to tell you about Raging Grannies, senior women who will also not be silenced, who sing loud and with wit against our systems of militarism and destruction of our earth.
I want to tell you about civilian diplomacy, such as the trips to Iran organized by the Fellowship of Reconciliation. If our leaders won't meet to make peace, at least honest people are willing to try.
Now, I also need to tell you about a man I know, blind from birth, who even still became a professor at Seton Hall and retired honorably. He, too, crossed the line at the SOA, not just this year but several times before. The judge refused to prosecute him, and he was sent away to be silent. But he will not be silent, and he will not go quietly away. He came back again and again, and this past January, he stood in front of the judge and demanded the same sentence as others got; he demanded to be treated as an equal being; equally intelligent (moreso, with his degrees), equally convinced and convicted. The judge, embarrassed, asked if he would take house arrest. He said no. He got ninety days and a fine. This man will not be underestimated by the civil authorities.
When I have chosen civil disobedience, it has been at times when I have not just felt strongly convicted of the justice and need of the cause, but also that I have considered my ability at the time to bear the costs--whether jail time, or fines, or other burdens that may arise. I am not just ready, but able, to serve my sentence, and I continue to prepare spiritually for it.
Perhaps you are asking yourself, how far can you go? Well, if you have the means to act larger, the time and freedom, by all means do so. To whom much has been given, much will be required.
However, do not despair if you don’t have such means. There cannot be any hierarchy among actions or those who act. No one should ever feel coerced into such a move as this. The costs can be quite high. And, more importantly, most significant acts of civil resistence take place closer to home. Do not underestimate the resistance of a woman finding freedom from from her abusive partner. Or the resistance of joining the Sanctuary movement to provide safety in our churches. Or the necessity of calling our Congresspeople to voice objection to injustice and suffering. When you can do no other, you can always pick up the phone.
But it is amazing what some folks do, that we assume they can't do. In Chicago where I live, a few months ago, people in wheelchairs "stormed" the State of Illinois building, fed up with not being taken seriously, and with the State's slowness to make transportation and other public services more accesssible. Let me tell you: three wheelchairs stop up an elevator. Four hundred wheelchairs bring a whole building to a standstill, damn quick. And those baffled police officers--it seems the paddy wagons weren't wheelchair-accessible, either! Truly these people were living out this Gospel like none other.
Yes, there are laws, customs, conventions that are unjust; Biblical interpretations that are unjust and lead to injustice; there are so many of these that are just plain un-civil. And it will take resistance to change them, to create a more just and more equal world. The road is long. And sometimes it hurts. And sometimes when you think it won't hurt so much, it hurts more, a lot, like you never expected. Sometimes you are like the blind man healed, with not just sight but insight, and you find yourself cast out by your community, even your congregation, even perhaps your family, and you are lying there, at the side of the road, wondering, crying, "Who is this Jesus? Please, show me!" And it is then, in the pain, in the loneliness, that God has not abandoned us, that sits with us and holds us; this is the Christ sometimes we can only see reflected in others; other times God calls us to reflect this light to those who suffer around us.
Be that light.
Receive that light.
Go forth, speak truth, and believe, confident in God's love.
Amen.
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