The Irreverent Reverend

He was the hero I never met. Frederick Buechner, who died this past week at the age of 96, was my hero. As a young preacher, he made preaching a human task with divine importance. I learned bold humility and vulnerability from him. His words and his preaching shaped my life across the forty-five years I have been in ministry. He told biblical stories that made the characters human, and he usually added a twist of humor. His book Peculiar Treasures tells the stories of many biblical characters with a humorous twist. For example, when writing about John the Baptist he wrote:

“John the Baptist didn’t fool around. He lived in the wilderness around the Dead Sea. He subsisted on a starvation diet, and so did his disciples. He wore clothes that even the rummage-sale people wouldn’t have handled. When he preached it was fire and brimstone every time.

The Kingdom was coming all right, he said, but if you thought it was going to a pink tea, you’d better think again. If you didn’t shape up, God would give you the ax like an elm with the blight or toss you into the incinerator like chaff. He said being a Jew wouldn’t get you any more points that being Hottentot, and one of his favorite ways of addressing his congregation was as a snake pit. Your only hope, he said, was to clean up your life as if your life depended on it, which it did, and get baptized in a hurry as a sign that you had. Some people thought he was Elijah come back from the grave, and some others thought he was the Messiah, but John would have none of either. ‘I’m the one yelling himself blue in the face in the wilderness,’ he said, quoting Isaiah. ‘I’m the one trying to knock some sense into your heads.” (Matthew 3:3)

Buechner taught me the value of humor in interpreting and preaching the texts, while keeping a balance of the wonder and holiness about it all. His humor never disrespected the text, but rather brought it to life in a completely new way. Throughout my life as a preacher I have incorporated humor. In most congregations I have served, I have had to tell them at some point that if they found something I said funny, it was okay to laugh. Not for nothing church people are called God’s frozen chosen. I tried to thaw them out a bit by telling stories with a humorous twist.

Frederick Buechner was a master story teller, and the story he told best was the story of his own life. He wrote with unflinching honesty about the suicide of his father and the near death of his daughter from anorexia. He showed a quality of vulnerability, humanness and deep faith that could model a way through the darkness for anyone. I know he modeled it for me. It is a rare preacher that can tell their own story without it seeming like a psychological strip tease either on the page or from the pulpit.

Short pithy lines were a specialty of his. There are too many for me to quote here, but there was always some line that stuck in my head and unfolded the wisdom hidden in its words.

As a young preacher, I didn’t have much of a clue what I was doing. I tried on a few identities that lay outside of me, for example being a feminist and tearing down the patriarchy of the institution. But that made me too angry. I am a feminist and I have worked to tear down the patriarchy of the institution, but it was hardly an anchor to ground me in ministry. People said that the “in” thing to do was be a woman in ministry and I was just hopping on the bandwagon. I let that feed my self-doubt for a while and decided that didn’t fit either. I finally figured out that the answer did not lie outside of me, but within me. I had a deep sense that ministry was where I belonged, but I had no idea why. The best I could hope for was that God would help me figure it out along the way. All I knew was that the only place I felt the cogs of my life click together was when I was doing ministry.

Then I read these wondrous words from Frederick Buechner: “Vocation is the place where our deep gladness meets the world’s deep need.”

Last week Cracker Barrel restaurant announced it was offering a vegan sausage alternative on their menu. A statistically significant group of people went bonkers. It occurred to me that if people can expend energy on a menu item at a restaurant, they have way too much time on their hands. More interestingly, however, are the names that were leveled at Cracker Barrel. Most significant was the criticism that they are “too woke.” It is a phrase that is lobbed by social conservatives to indicate their displeasure with the tendency or commitment of an individual, group or agency to show awareness of social, political and economic injustice in our culture.

According to Vox, being “woke” was a watchword in Black communities. “…staying ‘woke’ and alert to the deceptions of other people was a basic survival tactic. But in 2014, following the police killing of Michael Brown in Ferguson, Missouri, ‘stay woke’ suddenly became the cautionary watchword of Black Lives Matter activists on the street, used in a chilling and specific context: keeping watch for police brutality and unjust police tactics.”

Language is always fluid. The meaning of words change, new words are added to our vocabulary and other words are deleted as out of fashion or no longer meaningful. Being “woke” has evolved in a very short amount of time to mean an awareness of systemic racism, social injustice and political marginalization of historically marginalized communities. It is a moniker claimed by the left and denigrated by the right.

Aside from the blatant cultural appropriation of the phrase, which is in itself a problem, the notion of being “woke” is batted around in many contexts and many social circles. Where you are on the political spectrum largely defines how you view the term.

If being “woke” means:

• Being aware of systemic social injustice in our culture;
• Looking deep inside to see our own internalized racism;
• Constantly learning about the experience of others who are recipients of injustice and advocating for them;
• Being vocal in our communities, state and country about the economic, social and political injustice of the systems, structures and processes at every level of social and political life;
• Learning to see all the colors that make up our country and celebrating the diversity of cultures that are part of the USA;
• Making reparations to descendants of slaves who were brought here against their will beginning in 1619;
• Making reparations to Native Americans whose land was stolen during the colonial period; and
• Reading books like 1619 to educate ourselves about America’s original sin.

If all that and more is what it means to be “woke,” SIGN ME UP. I am woefully ignorant about much of our country’s history. I hope one day to be more fully “woke” so I can be a more responsible citizen of this great country and push back against the racism, sexism and every other “ism” that divides people into “us and them.”

If all that means that I am trying to be “politically correct,” SIGN ME UP. Being “politically correct” basically means we can’t trash-talk people who are different from us. It is a conscious decision to speak respectfully about people who are different from us until that conscious behavior becomes internalized into our language without effort. It means working at compassionate speech until it is no longer work, but rather second nature. It means believing what you are saying and living it out.

Being “politically correct” means:

• Learning and using correct and respectful language when referring to a person or group that is different from you;
• Honoring people’s self-definition even if it is something you do not understand. People who identify as transgender, non-binary or gender-uncertain do not need your permission to be who they are. They do, however, need your understanding and respect;
• Working to understand what it means for someone to identify as transgender, non-binary or uncertain about their gender identity;
• Not using judgmental or hateful language when speaking about marginalized individuals or groups; and
• Speaking up and speaking out for what is just and right.

Being “woke” and being “politically correct” are terms that are denigrated by those who want to see things stay the same or are unwilling to learn/accept that our times and our culture are changing. I believe that being “woke” and being “politically correct” are actions of compassion and acceptance that model the gospel.

Jesus regularly ate with sinners, outcasts and those whom society dismissed as insignificant. He drew them to the center of his life and ministry and foresaw a time when all people would be treated with the same love and respect. For Jesus, there was no “us and them.” If this is what it means to be “woke,” then SIGN ME UP.

While I have been griping about not being able to do what I did when I was in my thirties, I have been overlooking the things that are true in my sixties that were not true then. Some things I just didn’t know in my youth; others I was leery of admitting. Having lots of time on my hands occasions reflection about how the years pass and what happens in the process.

Lesson Number One: Youthful exuberance is tempered by experience. I graduated from seminary and was ordained at twenty-four. I didn’t know enough to be scared to death. I had a rose-colored glasses view of the church and what was possible. I believed I had the capacity to remake the church and bring it to new levels of faithfulness and insight. Forty-five years later, I see that there was quite a bit of arrogance to my youthful exuberance. I also have come to value the experience that years in ministry have taught me about dealing with a very human institution filled with very flawed human beings, including myself.

Lesson Number Two: Book learning is informed by doing the work. Sometimes book learning is helpful and sometimes not so much. I am grateful for my seminary education; it taught me a lot of things. I can still get excited about the declension of a Greek verb. My seminary education did not, however, teach me how to be with a mother who came home from work to find her fifteen year old son had hanged himself in the garage. This life in ministry has taken me to places and situations I could never have imagined in my wildest dreams. When most of the world is walking out, ministers are invited in. Moments of greatest pain and greatest joy are places where I was welcomed, not because I was such a great person, but because I carried the trust of the office of pastor. It is the greatest privilege and most humbling experience I could ever have in this life.

Lesson Number Three: The more I know, the more I know I don’t know. While years have brought me experience that I value and that have made me better at what I do, I know there is much I don’t know and don’t have time to learn. Still, the realization that there is much I don’t know keeps me open to new things and new insights. It also teaches me to rely on others whose knowledge and perspectives are different than my own.

Lesson Number Four: I have become strong in broken places. I’m not talking about bones. I have had my heart and soul broken by pain I thought I would not survive. Having a good therapist was a gift I gave myself. For fifteen years I wrenched my guts out in therapy. It’s how I learned to be comfortable in my own skin. It was no fun in the moment, but I wouldn’t trade it for the world. Doing my own inner work is the single most important thing that helped me internalize the role of pastor and human being in the same package. I have periodically gone back to therapy for tune-ups. Life isn’t always predictable and sometimes stuff knocks me off my pins. Knowing when I need help sorting it all out saved me from myself more than once.

Lesson Number Five: I am still my own worst enemy. It looks different now than it did in my thirties. I was more self-destructive then. I no longer drive a hundred miles an hour because life is too precious a gift to waste on speed. My youthful invincibility is gradually giving way to a more moderate view of what I should and should not be doing. I had a momentary blip when it came to the tailgate.  I am and always will be a work in process.

Lesson Number Six: I am more outspoken than I was in my thirties. My passions and convictions are more likely to make it out of my mouth and my writing as I grow older. It is partly because I don’t care what people think, but mostly it is because the gospel convicts me on a daily basis. Faithfulness to my call means I cannot ignore the things that break the heart of God. Ordination vows have no expiration date.  My goal as I age is to be a dangerous old preacher woman.

For the last fifteen years of my mother’s life she was in a wheelchair. The relentless progression of Multiple Sclerosis changed every aspect of her life, and ours. Monday was the anniversary of her death and of course I was thinking about her off and on through the day.

Remembering things we did together, adventures that were just silly and fun helped balance the sadness that remains even now. I remembered one afternoon when we went to lunch at 99, her favorite place. The hostess seated us at a table where mom could sit at the end in her wheelchair. Our server came over and handed me a menu and completely ignored my mother. I handed my mother my menu and the server caught on and gave me another one. A few minutes later she came over to take our order. I told her what I wanted and then she asked me, “What does she want?”  I replied, “I don’t know ask her.” The server leaned over and, in a voice the whole restaurant could hear asked, “What can I get for you today?” My mother responded, “I’m not deaf, at least I wasn’t when I came in here.”

Scenes like this were repeated in some form just about everywhere we went. My mother often blew it off and said it didn’t bother her. It seriously pissed me off. I never missed a teachable moment. It was usually delivered with varying degrees of sarcasm and snark, two of my specialties. I was constantly reminded of the assumptions people make when they see someone in a wheelchair. She must be deaf as a post, blind as a bat and unable to string words together to make sentences. Of course, none of this was true; my mother was an articulate and gracious communicator with a wicked sense of humor.

Beyond the social gaffes that people with disabilities tolerate every day from clueless and insensitive people, there is a deeper issue to tease out. For people of faith the question is, how much of our theology is built around the assumptions of ableism? People see handicapped and differently-abled people as a source of pity or a prayer project. Our family appreciated the prayers of others, especially as her disease progressed. Some people, though, prayed for a cure, prayed for her to walk again, prayed that her vision would improve. In truth, none of these things were going to happen. Eventually this bitch of a disease would end her life. The pity prayers of others that made them feel better did nothing for my mother or our family.

The theology of ableism sees the handicapped as broken or “less than.” This is reflected in worship and theology despite the efforts churches have made to make sanctuaries more accessible. Most churches have some sort of ramp and a place where wheelchairs can be parked. Interestingly, those places are either at the very front of the sanctuary where the person is on display, or the very back, which prevents the person from seeing anything. I once suggested to the trustees of a church that they cut the ends off a few pews to make room for wheelchairs. They were almost apoplectic. It made it worth showing up for the meeting. Churches would rather maintain the aesthetics of their worship spaces than make them truly welcoming to all.

Making worship spaces comfortable and accessible to people who are differently abled is a spiritual duty. Making worship accessible to a wide range of populations with differing abilities is one way of being open and affirming. Churches routinely say that all are welcome. Then people are greeted by the absence of large print bulletins or other aids for low vision people, no sign language interpreters, and no spaces where those who are overstimulated by loud noises can find respite. Even passing the peace and the forced touch it involves can be triggering to someone with social anxiety or a trauma history.

Oftentimes people with disabilities opt out of church all together because they feel there is no place for them in the community.

The biggest issue, though, is attitude. Seeing someone who is disabled triggers a whole set of assumptions that are rooted in our own ableism. Being able is better than being disabled. Rooting out that assumption that lives deep within is a spiritual duty. People who are disabled are vehicles of God’s grace and love just as much as those who able. Instead of looking at them as defective, we need to view them as people who can teach us and lead us to different understandings of what it means to be human.

We can learn to read scripture differently. The bible is full of people who had some sort of disability. Moses was “slow of speech and of tongue.” Elijah struggled with depression; Jacob walked with a limp; Eli was blind; and Paul had a constant thorn in his side. The prophet Micah declares that God shall take the lame and the afflicted and make them the remnant, the beginning of a strong nation. The book of Ephesians declares that we are God’s workmanship. It says nothing about only the able bodied being included.

Confronting our theological ableism is the first and most important step to becoming accepting people and becoming a truly open and affirming community.

The Webb Telescope is a lot more than just amazing pictures. It is a summons to contemplation and faithfulness. Sure, the pictures of Jupiter were amazing, and the clarity of stars never seen before stunning. But, it’s not about us. It’s about being part of something to which we are only infinitesimally relevant. Years ago the PBS gift catalog advertised a sweatshirt with a picture of the Milky Way on it. There was a tiny dot off to one side and the caption was, “You are here.” I wore mine until it was in tatters.

The Webb Telescope is confirming what we have long suspected was true; that the universe is a lot larger than we ever imagined. It contains two trillion galaxies with hundreds of billions of stars in each galaxy and keeps expanding! We are learning that the universe is 13.8 billion years old. The view from the Telescope is confirmation of what Thomas Aquinas wrote in the thirteenth century, “Revelation comes in two volumes: Nature and the Bible. In the cosmology of Aquinas, these two sources of revelation were equal. Let that sink in. They were equal. Seeing the universe from a distance is therefore a summons to contemplation in search of a new and deeper revelation of the Divine. (Daily Meditations with Matthew Fox)

As we come to see the universe and our place in it differently, it seems to me we need to learn to pray differently. For me, the words of the Lord’s Prayer are particularly problematic. The three story universe of heaven, the earth and the underworld reflect a cosmology our modern insights no longer support.

The three story universe was the cosmology of the ancient world. Originally, the heavens and the firmament were above the earth, the earth was in the middle and the netherworld was beneath the earth. There was no inherent goodness or punishment in the heavens or the netherworld. As the Greeks had more influence in the development of thought, the idea of “heaven” as a place of reward and “hell” as a place of punishment took firmer shape. That led to a whole lot of bad theology that exists even to this day. The idea of a “father God” in the heavens out there somewhere just doesn’t work when you look through the Webb Telescope. It’s an outdated cosmology that stifles our understanding of who God is and how the universe is put together. And if we are praying with an outdated cosmology it will lead us to outdated ideas and actions.

And for the record, Jesus didn’t say, “Pray with these words or you are going to hell.” He said, “Pray like this.” It is intended to be a model that acknowledges who God is, how we relate to God, one another, and to the created order.

From the view of the Webb Telescope, here is my version of the Prayer:

Loving God, within us, around us, and beyond us

Your Presence is holy, infusing all creation.

May your Kin-dom come throughout out all the galaxies and

even on the planet we call home.

Remind us that there is enough for everyone’s need

but not everyone’s greed.

Create in us new hearts that are passionate about

the plight of all your people and our world.

Your will be done by all people of all faiths;

your will of love, justice and peace for all creation and all people.

Forgive us when we fail you and help us forgive others

when they fail you and us.

Make us strong to resist temptation and

keep us from attraction to the evils around us.

For all things everywhere are your holy creation.

To you belong honor, praise and glory forever. Amen.

I encourage you to play around with your own version. You won’t be struck by lightning, I promise. The process is as important as the finished project. Write multiple drafts and see how your perceptions are changing as you ponder humanity’s place in the universe. May your prayer and reflection time be blessed.

Sunday morning breakfast occasioned a conversation about Vlademir Putin. We agreed that we pretty much hated him. Then, as further thought unfolded, we added exponentially to the list. Representative examples included Joe Manchin, Marjorie Taylor Green, Ted Cruz, the majority of the Supreme Court and, well, you get the point.

But the question came up, “What about Jesus’ command to love one another?” We agreed that loving these morons was a pretty tall order. The definition of love, however, needs some expansion.

Love has become sappy unicorns and rainbow sentimentality. This is complimented by cupid zipping around shooting people in the butt so they fall in love with some other poor slob who has also been shot in the butt. Our cultural image of love is that it is primarily an emotion, and a cheesy one at that.

Or, sometimes we can affirm that we love the person and hate their behavior. That’s a cop out, and it isn’t the kind of love to which we are called. It’s not what it means to love our enemies.

We read 1 Corinthians 13 at weddings and think it was written for a couple as they pledge their love to one another. In truth, 1 Corinthians 13 was written to a church, a group of people who came together around their faith in the realm of God as taught by Jesus. Unfortunately, they couldn’t agree on much else. They fought about everything and Paul had his hands full keeping this scrappy bunch on track with the teachings of Jesus. First Corinthians 13 was written for us and the way we live in the world every day. It is a manifesto on what it means to be human and, among other things, to love our enemies.

Loving someone else means desiring for them a relationship with God that makes them whole. It doesn’t have to be the way we believe, but rather to find what is transformative in their understanding of God. It is holding them in the light of Love that is the very element of everything that has ever been created.

Loving someone with whom we disagree doesn’t mean tolerating their bad behavior. It doesn’t mean you have to be best buddies. It means desiring for them the kind of spiritual life that transforms the way they live in the world. We can liken it to the way our faith transforms us and how we live in the world. I suspect most of us will find that less than an ideal example. This means we pray for ourselves the same way we pray for our enemies.

A relationship with God is intended to change us. Such a relationship leads to deep healing of what is broken inside of us. It changes our priorities, what we desire for ourselves and what we desire for others. A relationship with God changes the way we interact with all people. It draws us into a web of relationship with the whole created order and changes the way we live on the earth.

To pray for our enemies is to desire for them the kind of relationship with God that will profoundly shift what makes them tick. Praying for our enemies is not for the faint of heart. It requires courage, patience, perseverance and a true loving ache for the part of them that is deeply broken. One cannot demolish a country, show antipathy toward the people they are intended to serve, consistently obstruct measures to protect our earth, and take away the rights of over half the people in this country without having something deeply broken inside of them.

We know something of that brokenness because it has been at work in us from time to time. We may not be leveling countries and doing all manner of evil things, but we do our share of missing the mark in loving our enemies. When we pray for our enemies, we discover that it changes the way we pray for ourselves. We cannot pray for someone else to be transformed without praying for ourselves to be transformed. Jesus spoke of it as the log and the speck. We cannot go after the speck in another’s eye and miss the sequoia growing out of our own face.

I believe in the power of prayer to change things and to change us. I believe that our prayers join with the prayers of others and have the capacity to shift the energy of the universe. When we genuinely pray, stuff happens.

Praying for our enemies is one thing we can do so we don’t feel so powerless in the face of such rampant evil. Alfred, Lord Tennyson wrote, “More things are wrought by prayer than this world dreams of.”  

The tailgate and its impact on my life continue to be my teacher. I share these thoughts not because I am looking for sympathy or pity, but to provide an opportunity for reflection when you are in contact with people who are ill or injured.

Lesson One: I look the way I look. Pain has a way of leaking out of every pore of my body. My eyes are dull and all the color is drained from my face. My movements are jerky and contort my face because they cause more pain. My wardrobe selections have deteriorated significantly. Getting dressed takes most of the energy I have. Today I am sporting an oversized T-shirt from a University of Rhode Island Women’s Basketball tournament. It is complimented by a pair of shabby workout shorts. They are testimony to the time when working out was actually an option. My haute couture is topped off with my favorite flip flops which bare my unpedicured toes. I haven’t had a haircut in four months. There isn’t enough product in the world to make my hair look decent. It is way too much work to put on makeup. I just accept the fact that I look like a cross between Phyllis Diller and the Ghost of Christmas past. I just have to deal with it. So do the people who come to visit.

Lesson Number Two: Recovery is not a straight line from the wheelchair to the marathon race. As someone who is almost pathologically impatient, this is a tough one. I am learning that one step forward and two steps back is the rhythm of recovery. I am still learning what is too much to do by being on the other side of doing too much and paying the price. It is one part impatience and one part stubbornness. There is a lot of waiting around in recovering from this injury. There is so much that needs to be done around the house and around the boat. The collision of the two threatens to make me crazy. I am painfully and slowly learning the art of patience.

Lesson Number Three: It is what it is. Yes, that is a hackneyed overused statement. It happens, however, to be true. There is nothing I can do to change the situation I am in. So, accepting what is remains the task at hand. Acceptance is not an event, it is a process. Like recovery, it is one step forward and two steps back at times.

Lesson Number Four:  Crutches are a pain in the ass. Across my lifespan, I have spent years on crutches. I still have the original wood crutches I received in junior high school after my first knee surgery. The crutches I now have are accented by a shelf to hold my forearm and take the pressure off my broken wrist. This makes the crutches quite unwieldy. They regularly crash to the ground if I try and stand them up. They are the perfect obstacle for someone to trip over when navigating around the house. Right now, however, they are my partner in recovery. I can get up out of the wheelchair and walk around a little. Once again, the goal of recovery tempers the inconveniences of the process.

Lesson Five: I welcome people’s concern, prayers and care. I believe I have remained sane for the last year because of the prayers that are offered on my behalf. Many churches and many people have held me in the gentle embrace of prayer. I feel their love and compassion as I face the challenges of each day. The most helpful prayers are those that ask that I be aware of God’s presence; prayers that I will feel the love and support of people around me; and prayers that I may rely on the Divine for patience and perseverance as this recovery ambles on at glacial pace. Prayer is the real deal, in case you were wondering.  

Lesson Six: These months hold their own gifts and graces. Inasmuch as the tailgate continues to be my teacher, these months of recovery provide the blank pages where I get to write what I am learning. I continue to be amazed at the generosity and compassion of people in our lives. We are blessed with a network that weaves a web of love and support around us in ways I never could have imagined. They are a genuine community, filled with authentic people who are just being who they are and doing what they do. They are embodiments of grace.

I have always believed in the power of community. My first sermon forty-five years ago was entitled Covenant, Community and Commitment. My passion for and commitment to community has grown stronger over these past decades. Churches have taught me what it means to be community. In these months of recovery my friends have taught me once again the value of community. I think it’s the way we are supposed to live in the world.

Maybe you are beyond your childbearing years. Perhaps you made the decision to not have children, and the birth control method you used worked for you. Maybe you are a man. There are a hundred reasons to make the demise of Roe v. Wade not your issue.

And you are wrong. It is your issue.

It is your issue because:

• What happens when your fifteen year old daughter comes home pregnant?
• What happens when your wife is sexually assaulted by a stranger and becomes pregnant?
• What happens if prenatal care shows that your baby has multiple birth defects and is destined to live a very short life filled with pain?
• What happens when it touches your life? Oh, that’s right it isn’t your issue, at least until it is.

And lest you think these are hypotheticals only, last week a ten year old girl was raped and became pregnant. She had to go to another state to obtain an abortion. This is seriously messed up (for so many reasons).

This is everyone’s issue because this decision is the top of a very slippery slope. Some have called the decision to overturn Roe v. Wade a judicial coup. The Court has exposed itself as willing to pander to the right, a tendency toward which they have been leaning for some time. They have lost their objectivity and a whole lot of their credibility. Their decisions are eroding the barrier between church and state that are spelled out in the Constitution.  

While everyone was agog over Roe v. Wade, the Court also ruled that public monies can be used for private religious schools. The case from the state of Maine had to do with a rural town that had no public school, but had a religious school.  Most of the “religious” schools are conservative Christian schools.  Will this school allow children to NOT participate in the religious education that is part and parcel to these schools? What happens to the Jewish or Muslim student who lives in the town? Will they pay for him/her to attend another school that will not inculcate its religious beliefs? Would the same ruling have been made if it were a Jewish school? I think not.  

In another troubling decision, the Court also ruled that a coach can pray with his team at the fifty yard line following a football game. First, it assumes that God gives a rat’s patoot about who wins a high school football game. It is quite suspect in my opinion. Second, the larger issue with this case is that the student/coach relationship is a “power over” relationship. Coaches are powerful and influential figures in the lives of teenagers. Does a student athlete REALLY feel free to not participate? There is the very real possibility of subtle coercion to gain the approval of the coach and his/her teammates. Or student athletes may feel subtly pressured to participate in order to curry the coach’s favor for increased playing time or better recommendation letters for college.

We are in a dangerous time. The United States was never meant to be a theocracy. It was crafted as a republic and a democracy. If the fundamental christians can influence public policies that affect all people, we are a lot further down that slippery slope than we might imagine.

These three decisions in the aggregate further blur the line between the separation of church and state. The problem is that the religious freedom protected here is only the “christian” church, and I use the word very loosely. I sincerely doubt the same freedoms would be so readily extended to different religious expressions. And I can only imagine people would be up in arms.

Make no mistake, these are precedent setting cases. We will see more cases coming before the Supreme Court. We likely will see rulings in favor of religious institutions. These cases, taken together, open the door for coercive religious practices to be foisted on all people, regardless of their religious affiliation.  

Another troubling aspect of these decisions is that it opens the door to look at other civil rights issues. Clarence Thomas has suggested revisiting other landmark cases. Using the same logic regarding it not being in the Constitution, Thomas sees a loophole to roll back civil rights cases, including (ironically) his right to marry his wife. Same sex marriage may well be on the chopping block as well as civil rights protections for LGBTQ persons. There will be devastating consequences.

As one of the three main branches of government, the Supreme Court is the keeper of the Constitution. The subtext of that truth for our time is that the conservative Federalist Society poured millions of dollars into the nominations of the three conservative justices rammed through by the occupant. To be an “originalist” in regard to the constitution means that a bunch of old white men decided what was going to be law over two hundred years ago in a very different time and a very different world. I would like to think that human society evolves and uses the basic premise of “life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness” for all people. Instead they are cherry picking parts of the constitution to pander to the religious right. Religious conservatives and the originalists are conspiring to roll back civil rights at least fifty years. What they fail to see is that there are overarching perspectives that should inform their actions. These are justice for all people, a concern for the whole of the human community and creation.

If you’re not outraged, you’re not paying attention.

People, it is time to organize, cooperate and reach out to like-minded allies. This is NOT the time to be individual heroes and/or have one person doing what a hundred other people are doing.

It is time to recreate the Underground Railroad. The History site gives helpful information on the Underground Railroad. You can read about it here: https://www.history.com/topics/black-history/underground-railroad Most of us know the name Harriet Tubman, but there were hundreds of others. Their names are lost to history but they were a crucial part of the movement.

The Underground Railroad grew out of the conviction that no person had the right to own another person.

If a new movement is to provide the network women will need, we have to get our convictions straight. If you are a person of faith, you have to get your beliefs straight. The only way coordinated efforts that reach to every corner of the country will get off the ground is through one committed person at a time. Margaret Mead wrote, “Never doubt that a small committed group of people can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has.” This is no time for handwringing and feelings of desperation. This is a time to organize, speak out, protest and be counted.

Here are some points for consideration:

• The government has a long history of affirming individual freedom: “life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness.” The government can assume no authority over women’s bodies. Women have autonomy to decide what is best for them. To deny this because it is not explicitly mentioned in the constitution is absurd. Driver’s licenses and car registrations aren’t mentioned either, but you can go to jail if you don’t have them.
• I believe this action by the part of the Not-So-Supreme-Court prevents me from practicing my faith in the way I see fit.
  • I believe God created us with free will, the capacity to choose and the moral agency to make decisions about our own lives. John Pavlovitz has a compelling argument about God being Pro-Choice. You can read it here: https://johnpavlovitz.com/2020/10/15/god-is-pro-choice/
  • We need people of faith to speak long and loud to shift the dominant narrative of the religious fanatics and make known an alternate position grounded in faith in a just God. We need an out-there-in-your-face witness to an alternate narrative that has its own validity and dignity.
  • We need courageous preachers to address these issues from the pulpit and put petitions out for people to sign at coffee hour. Ask your pastor to preach on this issue. If needed, I will send a ready-to-preach sermon that can be used in various settings, as long as proper citation is given. If s/he feels unable to address this from the pulpit, please comment on the blog site. I will preach for free in your church (CT, MA and RI) beginning in September. The joy of being a supply preacher is that you don’t have to care if you piss people off. The gospel is the gospel and sometimes it pisses people off. I’m good with that.
  • We need courageous preachers to help end the shame and stigma that women feel terminating a pregnancy. There are women in just about every church in this country who have terminated a pregnancy. Whether last week or twenty years ago, they are in need of care and freedom from stigma.
  • We need clergy to use the authority of their office and write letters to the editor.
  • We all need to stand up and be counted in our convictions.
• Associate Justices obfuscated or outright lied about their opinions on Roe v. Wade and how they would vote. Is there no repercussion or accountability for them?
• Write to the Justices. Thank those who voted to uphold Row v. Wade and castigate the justices who outright lied in their confirmation hearings. Call them to account for making the decision to strip women of their moral agency.
• Women of means will always have access to reproductive health care. This decision disproportionately affects low income women and women of color. The overturning of Roe v. Wade is first and foremost a justice issue.

The truth is I have no idea how to organize an underground railroad, but I do know this. If Harriet Tubman did it with no phones and no internet, we should be able to figure it out. There already are networks in place. This is no time to reinvent the wheel. Contact your local Planned Parenthood agency and find out how you can help.

Please share this blog on your Facebook page or forward it to your e-mail list. Leave a comment on my blog site. Comments are moderated. Obscene and disparaging comments will be removed. Let’s make this go viral and mobilize!

This is a time to be part of the solution.  

New York Times: “Dog feeding stations in bombed out cities in Ukraine.”

New York Times: “We buried him and kept on walking.”

Evening Network   News: (after the Uvalde massacre) “When the families finish grieving…”

We live in a world of sixty second sound bites and headlines followed by three hundred word articles. We live in a theater of the short attention span.

What is left out of these headlines and sound bites is far more important.

It’s hard to fathom leaving behind a beloved pet knowing you are condemning them to almost certain death. It’s harder to imagine burying your child, who died of starvation, beside the road and continue walking to escape the famine in Somalia. It’s impossible to fathom an end-date to grief, as if it can be scheduled a week from next Tuesday.

To make matters worse, the next day these headlines are gone. The headlines have changed and the sixty second sound bites are different. We are confronted with the Senate hearings on the insurrection. We are on to the twenty massacres that have happened since Uvalde. Just in case you are wondering, a mass shooting is any gun event that involves four or more deaths/injuries not including the gunman.

It is tempting to just tune out the barrage of pain that is the daily fare of news. There is, at least for me, a fear of being swallowed alive. There is also the tendency to think it will never happen “here” wherever “here” happens to be for you. I can’t begin to imagine Russian warships coming into Narragansett Bay under the Newport Bridge. I can’t fathom that any of the hundreds of schools in my state are just as vulnerable as the schools where massacres have occurred. And, let’s be honest, there is a part of us that is grateful not to be in their shoes.

It’s a challenge to stay engaged in the world and hold on to our sanity. The key is holding on to both. We can’t hold on to one at the expense of the other. We have to keep our equilibrium and stay connected to what is happening in the world. Otherwise, we become hollow shells of human beings. In truth, we are always moving back and forth between the shores of the deep end of the world’s pain and the more immediate gifts and graces of our own lives.

The great poet Kahlil Gibran, influenced by both Christianity and the Sufi tradition of Islam, wrote about joy and sorrow as essentially two sides of the same coin. In his seminal work, The Prophet he writes,

            “Joy is your sorrow unmasked. The deeper that sorrow carves into your being the more joy you can contain…. When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy. When you are sorrowful look again in your heart and you shall see that in truth, you are weeping for that which has been your delight…. Verily you are suspended like scales between your sorrow and your joy. Only when you are empty are you at a standstill and balanced.”

Holding sorrow and joy in mutually informative tension, as uncomfortable as it is, allows us to build emotional capacity for compassion without giving into despair. To live in this world is to experience constant emotional whiplash. It’s what it means to be a citizen of the world.

We cannot insulate ourselves from the world’s pain. The starvation and displacement of millions of people SHOULD break our hearts. “We buried him and kept on walking.” Neither should we insulate ourselves from the things that bring us joy, or feel guilty for feeling joy while so much of the world is a hot mess.

Looking beyond the sound bites and headlines, imagining that we are in their shoes and feeling something of the pain of others is what can spur us to action. Moving back and forth between the shores of joy and sorrow, seeing them as two sides of the same coin, helps us be engaged citizens of a troubled, beautiful, broken and  miraculous world.