J. Robin Whitley's Blog, page 6
October 10, 2019
Changing the Story and Changing Perception
“Change the story and you change perception; change perception and you change the world.”
~Jean Houston
Change is not one of humanity’s favorite gifts. Yet, most humans don’t see change as a gift, but more as moving into the unfamiliar. The irony is that the only thing we can truly count on in life is that things are going to change. When we ignore things we don’t like, like weeds, those undesired things can take over and ruin a good life, a good marriage, a good school record, etc.
When we look at change as inevitable, then, we are given a choice of direction. We have the ability to change the perception in our own mind of the event (whatever it may be). Just because sometimes change is inevitable doesn’t mean it always has to be devasting.
St. Ignatius of Loyola had a way of looking at life where he encouraged his students in this way:
During times of consolation, prepare for the oncoming desolation.
During times of desolation, prepare for the oncoming consolation.
This was explained this way during a retreat on how to lead an Ignatian retreat. At the time, my Spiritual Director/Counselor said that was a depressing way to look at life. Though I could see how one might see fatalism in the comment, what I had experienced was more balanced.
The quote is about the inevitability of life. There are good and bad things that happen. Sometimes it really is only a matter of changing our perception of things. Once I thought about the good things that would return to life (in times of desolation), it was merely a matter of waiting (or wading) through the challenge until normality or gift occurred. That can be a long time. However, by being prepared that during times of desolation that there would be a time of consolation on the way, that made the waiting and the wading much easier. Okay, so maybe more tolerable is more truthful. To be in a time of desolation is not easy ever.
Not sure why we think that when we hit those times of consolation that they will last forever. It doesn’t take a lot of living or even listening to music on the radio to know that nothing good ever lasts forever. That truth is the theme of all the arts. Nothing lasts forever. How can one change the perspective on the fact that loss is a natural, human, life experience?
Of course, there’s no universal answer. You have to decide what works for you, and I have to decide what works for me. My decision has been to look at loss as the natural course of life. Seasons come and go. People come and go from our life in many different instances. Most of the time, those coming and goings from humans are nothing personal. Just like me, like you, like us, the ones we love who go somewhere else, have to deal with the question of change and perspective.
We can accept change and learn to live with the changes that come or seek to change. The reason our world is in chaos is because of how we all fight to avoid change and sometimes change is growth. To grow is to change and ideally, with the right perception or perspective, we can grow when change happens that we haven’t planned for. What is good about change?
Change is all about perspective. When we continue to resist change that is inevitable, like aging, we only create misery for ourselves. This is where St. Teresa of Avila’s quote on loving more than thinking can be quite helpful.
“The important thing is not to think much, but to love much; and so, do that which best stirs you to love.”
~St. Teresa of Avila
What “best stirs you to love”? That question can move our perspective to a better way at looking at change. That may mean that we have to take action. In the case of injustice being done to another, it’s important to find a way to be proactive in love. Sometimes change catches us off-guard anyway and all we have time for is to react and not plan a loving response. That’s when it’s vital to remember that we are also called to extend love towards our own selves. When we make mistakes, learn from them, make corrections, and then move on to a better place.
This morning during prayer, it was a blessing to be reminded of a dear woman from my time in Tallahassee. She was one of the shut-ins we visited at church. Though we would go to check on her and make sure she was okay, everyone agreed that when you left Jo’s home, the visitor felt that JO had done the ministry. That is because of the power of her love and light. Each time I visited Jo, she always said that she wasn’t lonely because she always knew God was with her.
This morning, though Jo died long ago, her light shone into my heart. She lived into her nineties and we all were saddened at her passing. Yet, some twenty years later, the love she shared with me in those moments brought light into sadness for me. Things are changing as I age. People die, move away, or just go away. It is okay to grieve. Here’s the thing though, when I get past the grieving, when you get through the sadness, you too will see that though a person is gone, the love remains.
“No matter where life takes you, the place that you stand at any moment is holy ground. Love hard and love wide and love long and you will find the goodness in it.”
~Susan Vreeland
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September 2, 2019
August 29, 2019
A Healing Summer
Fred’s General Store 2019 ©JRobin Whitley
As I enjoy the cool summer morning, I smile at the healing that occurred for me this summer. I am also reminded that it is late summer. Though the heat may be upon us again, the worst is over. We are now in late summer. Fall is sending us love leaves to remind us of the colors we love in fall.
This was my second summer living full-time on Beech Mountain. One of the things that surprises me is that summer is my busy time. This summer I’ve been blessed sing at various churches and preach at two different churches. The Rev. Tamara Franks has given me wonderful opportunities to be a part of High-Country United Church of Christ (UCC). Mary Silver gave me the chance to preach for Resort Area Ministry (R.A.M) in Linville. Being a part of R.A.M’s ministries reminds me of the joy I had as a college student being a singer for the ministry teams.
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Resort Area Ministry’s ROVER Team. Melanie Stone and Robin Whitley 1981.
Resort Area Ministry has moved from the music teams to being teams of people from churches willing to pick up a hammer or paint brush and make a difference to the elderly, poor, or disabled who live year-round in the areas surrounding the resorts. I will tell you more about them in a later blog.
This is more of a summarizing of the wonders of my summer. In the past, summer was my least favorite season. I liked school and though I may have been ready for a summer break, summer was too long and too hot. The summers here on Beech Mountain have been blissful and for the first time in my life, I’m going to be sad to see summer go. It’s mostly because I and the dogster won’t be able to sit on the porch and enjoy the outdoors. Whenever it’s not raining and I’m not at a gig, teaching, or preaching, I and Birdie are on the porch. This dog loves a sunbeam. She also likes to steal my chair. Oh well.
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My dog, Birdie.
This summer was extra special to me because there have been miracles galore happening in my life. Some of it is simply because grief is losing its grip on me. Also, I’m more familiar with the area so that it feels more like home. On the way home from church the other day, my heart was so full and I knew that I belong here. My home church is Holy Cross Episcopal in Valle Crucis. We have two wonderful priests, a fantastic choir director, and beautiful people who are welcoming and caring. These people have been an integral part of the healing of the grief I’ve dealt with the past two years from the loss of my marriage and my home in Sylva, NC.
The Rev. Tamara Franks has been part of the healing of my minister’s heart. From day one, she has treated me as a colleague in ministry. The work I’ve talked about with her and then been able to participate in with her has further healed the wound from when I lost my ministry because I came out to my bishop. My priests at Holy Cross have listened and aided in that healing as well. By Mary’s invitation to participate in the ministry of R.A.M., that healing has reached even further back into my life. Through these wonderful human angels of G-d, there is a thread of healing coursing through my heart mind and soul. Words don’t do it justice, but I’m trying.
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The tee shirt my team gave me.
R.A.M. also has summer projects. I applied for one because of how my asthma disables me. This winter I was so sick I became convinced it had to be the carpet putting me in danger. It was old, musty carpet and most likely had mold. As a disabled person, I applied for one of the projects asking for the carpet to be removed OR for my walls to be painted. Some folks from Media Presbyterian Church from Philadelphia area come down to do this kind of work every summer. I am still in awe of these angels with hammers. The thing is, because of the work they did, I feel like I have a set of new lungs. My lungs haven’t felt this good in more years than I can count.
Because of this gift, I was also able to sing at a private party on Beech Mountain in AUGUST! August has always been the worst month for me as an asthmatic. Instead, I got to use my music to sing and be happy. This was part of the healing process mentioned above, but it also introduced me to more neighbors. It healed me because I thought I wasn’t going to be able to sing again like that – for two hours. My asthma had gotten so bad, it was all that I could do to sing at church on Sunday. G-d is so good. I feel blessed. This has been the best summer of my life. Hope yours was filled with blessings too!
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Used with Permission.
“The winds of grace blow all the time. All we need to do is set our sails.” ~Sri Ramakrishna Paramahamsa
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Coming Soon! 2 new book releases.
Due out 10/19/2019 is the second edition of my poetry book.
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New Cover for 2019 release.
Due out 11/5/2019 is my first prayer collection.
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Due out soon.
The post A Healing Summer appeared first on J. Robin Whitley.
August 21, 2019
Thinking about Butch
©2019 Pamela Lewis. Used with permission.
What happened to the butches? This is often heard in the lesbian community and it got me thinking about Butch. This is not about Butch Cassidy either. As I age and care less what others think of me, I become more of my butch self. I’m also going to capitalize “Butch” as a gender identity because I have been a butch with a little “b” and now I want to be more myself. I’ve been butch my entire life, but what people like to call “soft butch”. It was a way I could pass as straight. It made me feel safer.
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Stained glass windows at Sagrada Familia (Gaudi)
As I finished seminary, I was more comfortable with my Butch self because I was in a field that was important to me. I was confident in theology and the work I would do as a pastor. Though I still had to “hide” in other ways, I gave up eye makeup. I still wore dresses, slips, hose and high heels to church or a business meeting though I hated them. Being a pastor in the Lutheran Church was one of the most rewarding and blessed vocations of my life. Of course, I lost that vocation when I came out to the Bishop of my NC Synod. The ELCA at the time had not caught up with the UCC or Episcopal Church in the ordination of Lesbians as priests or pastors.
As soon as I was removed, I got rid of all my dresses and almost all suits with skirts. I wore mostly dress suits because my professional look was more tailored. Kept a skirt and jacket that mom had bought me for my ordination in case it was needed for a family funeral. At the time, I wasn’t out to them. Yet, the more I came out to family, friends, and anyone I needed to, the freer I felt. I gave up all things “femme” and even stopped shaving my underarms and my legs. I’m not a hairy person to begin with.
Throughout my life, I’ve chosen to remain in the South. In particular, I love the state of North Carolina. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t like our state politics and as a whole, the state usually elects bigoted white men as senators. Though, in truth, the senator representing my new county is a bigoted white woman. What does this have to do with how this article started at all you may wonder. How did politics get into a conversation about what it means to be a Butch? It means more than we could ever have imagined.
On one hand, I knew this. On the other hand, I don’t care for politics and in my life have avoided discussions about it. Barely knew enough to vote responsibly when I was younger. Then, a dear Coptic priest from India told me why it was important to become more interested in the politics of the U.S. Our foreign policy affects whether his people can eat. Though I can’t say I’m a political junkie, I am becoming an activist. At this point, I may be willing to say that ALL women should be activists. All people of color should become activists or at least all should become MORE INFORMED!
I’ve been reading Jill Soloway’s memoir, “She Wants It: Desire, Power, and Toppling the Patriarchy”. In truth, if a trusted politico friend had not sent it to me, I would never have known about it much less read it. There is so much in this book that is helpful. Not only in understanding the challenges of artists, but also of our Trans community. In the book, she admits to making mistakes in different ways, but by the end of the book, you also see how they correct that and also how they are transformed. It is a powerful book.
Since my divorce, I’ve asked my own questions about “who am I?” Who am I without my wife? Who am I as a differently-abled person? The only thing I know for sure is that I am claiming my art and my Butchness. When I first moved to my new town in the [image error]mountains, I happened across an Instagramer named “butch-is-not-a-dirty-word.” I bought two sets of stickers they had for sale on Instagram. One said the same thing as above. The other says, “Butches Against the Patriarchy.” Man, I love those stickers. Have I gotten brave enough to put them on my car yet? Nope. You see, I live in the South. I do have subtle stickers on my car that the LGBTQ+ community will recognize as rainbow stickers. They are subtle though.
After my separation and divorce, the only place I could find that is affordable is set in the midst of not only a large group of Republicans but many of whom are part of the 1% wealthy who buy vacation homes. I keep asking G-d what in the heck is She thinking to do that? They don’t want me here. Yet, the people in my town are wonderful. The more I get to know them, the more I accept that we are all merely human beings trying to do the best we can to get through this life. We are neighbors and friends first.
Yet, one of the things that Solloway does in her book is to encourage each of us to become more involved in the changes needed for our country to become a better place for all, not merely some. She and Eileene Myles, another activist, spent time writing what they called “The Thanksgiving Paris Manifesto” and they believed in it so much that Solloway bought the website Topple The Patriarchy.
One of the things I’ve been doing in the past two years is accepting and adapting to these truths of mine. Sometimes there are old truths (butch), and sometimes there are new (differently-abled). I’ve finally decided that if others can’t deal with it, okay. This is who I am. I am embracing my butchness. I like being Butch. Have even been brave enough to wear ties to the church. I didn’t care what they thought. I wanted to look good. Also, I am religious. So be it. I tried changing but I was miserable. Some people would say “I’m spiritual but not religious.” Tried that too and the fact is, I am both.
I am becoming more of an activist and my wife didn’t like that at all. She was too fearful. I am not any longer; tired of hiding and always being afraid of who I am. This creative person works as hard as possible, though I am differently-abled. It took me forever to get used to my limitations. Yet, I am finding beauty in them too. In my haste to work, get a lot done, please people, there was so much WONDER that I missed. I am claiming the wonder and the mystery of life.
I’m claiming ALL of my life regardless if WHO I am makes others happy. We can’t make others happy anyway. It took forever to get that lesson. Now, I am happy to be me. For all you Butches out there, I want you to claim you too. Because
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Claim it!
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July 6, 2019
A Cup of Cold Water
Good morning. After my meditation time and prayer, I think on yesterday and find myself embarrassed although you all told me not to be embarrassed. It is simply that at the moment I was caught off-guard and vulnerable. That made me afraid.
I’m choosing love again today. Not a love that harms another, but one that brings water to dry places. One of the reasons I love the photo I took in a dry Oklahoma forest is because of a memory of shared water.
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Oklahoma Forest 2001
In seminary, we were assigned different things to do to challenge ourselves to grow. I knew I wasn’t good with home visits, always too nervous being in someone’s home even when invited. I was assigned a 97-year-old woman.
On a trip to her sister, she wanted to stop and get water at this church that had an outdoor faucet like this. It was in Columbia, SC and wicked hot. I had a truck at the time, but no cup. There were construction workers there. She rolled down the water and asked the sweating dirty men to bring her a cup of water.
One man put his paint down fast and ran over to a styrofoam cup I had not seen. He had a chaw of tobacco in his mouth so I hoped that it was his coffee he poured out. He thoroughly washed out the cup and came over to the truck. With the gentleness of Jesus offering water to a child, he offered Miss Neva a cup of water in a dry place.
It is one of my most beautiful memories.
“… and whoever gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones in the name of a disciple—truly I tell you, none of these will lose their reward.”
~Matthew 10:42 New Revised Standard Version (NRSV)
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July 5, 2019
Faith and Justice as Synonyms – Part 1
“Southerners On New Ground (SONG) is a regional Queer Liberation organization made up of Black people, people of color, immigrants, undocumented people, people with disabilities, working class and rural and small town, LGBTQ people in the South.”
Warning, this post isn’t what I originally set out to write although the title still applies. As a result, I will now call this Part I on how Faith and Justice are Synonymous. After a beautiful morning, when I awakened to the sun and life full of hope and goodness, messages from others got me working on issues of justice for others. Today was a meeting with new spiritual friends at the Valle Crucis Conference Center. We are hoping to plan a prayer retreat for 2020. My spirit was renewed. It gave me hope. I couldn’t wait to get home to ponder an outline already forming in my head and heart.
When I arrive home, there is an odd letter in my mailbox. It is not handwriting that I recognize, and it feels empty like someone addressed an envelope and forgot to put the letter in. Still, I did not open it at the mailbox. I save letters for when I get in the house so that I can savor them as I read them. Letter writing is an art I’ve hoped to keep alive by writing relatives and friends (both old friends and new).
When I opened the letter however, there wasn’t a letter, but just a response to one of the columns or editorials I wrote to a local paper. My guess is that it was from my hometown’s paper since there was a Charlotte postmark, but I could be wrong. There was no time or date when the article was published. Only that it was in response to something I sent in last week about loving one another and that Jesus says nothing about homosexuality. There was no letter, name, signature. The handwriting is not one I recognize.
When I wrote the papers of the rural places I’ve lived in the South, I knew that there would be lash back in the papers. My purpose was not to start an argument but to post a point of view from a lesbian of faith in the rural areas where I’ve lived in my life. There are only two places that I know published the short piece. Neither of them listed my address OR town. Yet, on this day, I get a letter from someone I do not know or someone too chicken, cowardly, or obtuse as to omit his/her own return address and name.
I scan the letter for any signs of who might have sent it. The print suggests that it was from somewhere that my family is known. I know what the font looks like in the local paper in my hometown. The newspaper has always been something I read anywhere I lived. Though, the font used in the paper when I lived near OKC was not one I enjoyed reading, so that’s when I began reading USA Today. Still, had it been in a hard-to-read font, I would have checked that paper. But the truth is, the postmark was out of Charlotte. Perhaps the person sending it forgot that the US mail still postmarks everything. Since few write actual letters anymore, why would people think of that or even remember it?
My first response sadly was to think that someone betrayed me by giving my personal and home address out to someone who could harm me. Truthfully, the only reason my mind went there is that it is only from my family that I’ve gotten such things. Still, my family doesn’t care if it bothers or upsets me and will tell me to my face what they think. Then someone reminded me of White Pages and how easily our personal information can be distributed on the world wide web.
Because of being stalked before I’m usually vigilant in watching to make sure that such data is not easily accessible. The grief from divorce made me careless and forgetful. Because I set up a PO box when I first got here, also felt a bit safe that no other places had my personal address to sell. Then, there was a short time when I was so depressed from the divorce and having to move and being disabled that I didn’t care if I was harmed. Again, that was careless, and I’ve contacted the places necessary to remove that info.
This makes me angry. Part of the anger is fear, I know. The larger part is anger though. Anger because it seems that at 58, we are going backward in time. Lesbians earned the right to marriage in 2014. Now, those things are trying to be rescinded by the government. Then, this, someone from the conservative branch of the Christian tradition sends me a letter about my sinfulness and that I need a cure as if they don’t. There is no one human being alive who is free from sin if we understand theology and scripture in the correct way.
That’s the point, isn’t it? Each person needing/wanting to be righter than G-d. Here’s what I’m going to tell you. If you are fluent in ancient Hebrew/Aramaic and ancient Greek then, I will read your letter. Unless you neglect to leave your return, address or sign it. If you have studied the Dead Sea Scrolls in depth and have infinite knowledge about how language works, I will read your letter…unless you send it anonymously. Also, read this list of books and then we can talk about how G-d is interpreted throughout time (unless you don’t sign the letter). If you are not brave enough to put your name to an issue, keep your thoughts to yourself.
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Allison, C. FitzSimons. Fear, Love, and Worship. Vancouver: Regent College Pub., 2003. Print.
Boase, T. S. R. St. Francis of Assisi. London: Duckworth, 1936. Print.
Bolz-Weber, Nadia. Accidental Saints: Finding God in All the Wrong People. New York: Convergent, 2015. Print.
Bondi, Roberta C. To Love as God Loves: Conversations with the Early Church. Philadelphia: Fortress, 1987. Print.
Bonhoeffer, Dietrich. The Cost of Discipleship. London: SCM, 2015. Print.
Boom, Corrie Ten, Elizabeth Sherrill, and John L. Sherrill. The Hiding Place. Peabody, MA: Hendrickson, 2015. Print.
Brown, Brené. Braving the Wilderness: The Quest for True Belonging and the Courage to Stand Alone. Waterville, ME: Thorndike, 2018. Print.
CHODRON, PEMA. PRACTICING PEACE. S.l.: SHAMBHALA, 2018. Print.
CHODRON, PEMA. START WHERE YOU ARE: A Guide to Compassionate Living. S.l.: SHAMBHALA, 2018. Print.
Confessor, Maximus, George C. Berthold, and Jaroslav Pelikan. Selected Writings. New York: Paulist, 1985. Print.
DRUMMOND, HENRY. GREATEST THING IN THE WORLD. S.l.: HANSE, 2016. Print.
Fox, Matthew. Original Blessing: A Primer in Creation Spirituality: Presented in Four Paths, Twenty-six Themes, and Two Questions. New York: Jeremy P. Tarcher/Putnam, 2000. Print.
House, Silas. Southernmost. S.l.: ALGONQUIN OF CHAPEL HILL, 2019. Print.
Hanh, Nhát, and Robert Ellsberg. Thich Nhat Hanh: Essential Writings. London: Darton Longman & Todd, 2008. Print.
Johnson, Chelsey. Stray City: A Novel. New York, NY: Custom House, 2018. Print.
Johnson, Jay Emerson. Peculiar Faith: Queer Theology for Christian Witness. New York: Seabury, 2014. Print.
Julian. Revelations of Divine Love. Mineola, NY: Dover Publications, 2006. Print.
Merton, Thomas. New Seeds of Contemplation. Norton & Co.: n.p., 2007. Print.
Pavlovitz, John. A Bigger Table: Building Messy, Authentic, and Hopeful Spiritual Community. Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox, 2017. Print.
Pavlovitz, John. A Bigger Table: Building Messy, Authentic, and Hopeful Spiritual Community. Louisville, KY: Westminster John Knox, 2017. Print.
Picoult, Jodi. Sing You Home. Sydney: Allen & Unwin, 2015. Print.
Robinson, V. Gene. God Believes in Love: Straight Talk about Gay Marriage. New York: Vintage, 2013. Print.
Scanzoni, Letha, and Virginia R. Mollenkott. Is the Homosexual My Neighbor: A Positive Christian Response. New York, NY: HarperOne, 1994. Print.
Spong, John Shelby. Here I Stand: My Struggle for a Christianity of Integrity, Love, and Equality. New York: HarperOne, 2001. Print.
Spoon, Rae, and Ivan E. Coyote. Gender Failure. Vancouver: Arsenal Pulp, 2016. Print.
Tillich, Paul, and Harvey Cox. The Courage to Be. New Haven: Yale UP, 2014. Print.
Trible, Phyllis. God and Rhetoric of Sexuality. Philadelphia: Fortress, 2005. Print.
Whitley, J. Robin. In a Southern Closet. Port Arthur, TX: Regal Crest, 2011. Print.
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June 27, 2019
Policy Change: a response to The Rev. Hugh Hollowell
Policy Change is a post written by a minister I follow on Facebook, The Rev. Hugh Hollowell. He posted it the other day in response to world events. Since I am a person who is anti-conflict and also considered a peacemaker, his policy change has been following me around this week exhorting me to change mine.
First, you must know that I lived in rural and/or conservative areas all of my life. Tallahassee, FL might be the one place that was freer. Even then, in 1992-93, it was not “safe” for me to be out as a lesbian. At the time, I was in seminary and though the congregation I served there was liberal and open, my seminary was not. At the time, the Lutheran Church (ELCA) had a policy that if a homosexual was in a relationship, they would be removed from seminary and/or the pastorate or ministry.
As I got braver and gave up my pastorate (unwillingly) in order to be truthful about the person I am, my way of dealing with the awful comments that people make was to ask them if we could “Agree to disagree”. I thought it was the most peaceful way I could respond…that it was a way I could allow them to have their beliefs while also embracing my own truth.
The world has changed substantially since the 90s. We moved a tremendous distance in human rights in the first sixteen years of this century that I thought we were seeing a revolution of love. That peace, love, and justice were winning for the first time in my life. It seemed a miracle. Then, well, policies began to change and the government seeks to reverse all human rights it seems that occurred in my lifetime. As a result, I decided to be a little more confrontative to the rural areas where I have lived in my life.
I sent in letters to all the newspapers of the towns and cities where I have lived. I doubted with the current political climate that anyone would publish it. However, the paper where I grew up did. I only know because people from that area who still know me contacted me about it. You can read it here. The headline was that big too.
ROBIN WHITLEY COLUMN: Coming out is not easy, for many reasons
To write the article was the most confrontative I have ever been when writing a newspaper. That felt scary and a bit dangerous. I can’t say that it was a policy change for my fearful self, but a need to do the right thing above and beyond my fears. Hatred is rampant in a way I have never lived through in America. Though I know there was the Civil Rights Movement of the 60s and Vietnam, I was a child and rather sheltered from the news by my parents. As a result, we as children were isolated or harbored from the cruelty of the larger political arena. I can no longer claim that. When I read Rev. Hollowell’s post, I knew it was a call to justice in a way I had not considered before. With his permission, it is reprinted in its entirety for your consideration.
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Policy Change by The Rev. Hugh Hollowell (www.hughhollowell.org) [image error]
Policy Change:
I will no longer “Agree to Disagree”. Those are weasel words, often used to put a veneer of civility on a massive disagreement around systemic injustice.
I like pineapple on pizza. We don’t have to “agree to disagree”. We can just disagree. It’s OK.
If you are in favor of asylum seekers being put in concentration camps and I don’t, we don’t have to “agree to disagree” in some kumbaya-esque sense that we are the same, you and I. We will disagree, vigorously on my part.
That phrase is most often used by people who feel uncomfortable when confronted by their oppressive behavior who want to appear benevolent while not actually changing or contemplating their actions.
I cannot imagine a Black man being beaten in 1962 for attempting to vote saying that we can just agree to disagree. I do, however, know many white supremacists who have uttered those very words around reparations, say.
I cannot imagine a gay man being fired for being gay (which is legal in much of the country, by the way) agreeing to disagree. I have heard many a religious fundamentalist use those words in regards to equal rights for LGBT folx.
We never have to agree to disagree. We will just disagree. This isn’t me being confrontational – just me being honest. Because if we are going to disagree on the fundamental worth of other people, I am not going to let you get away with pretending to be polite about it.
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Can you hear the justice in his message? Can you hear his call to mercy? I want to err on the side of mercy and kindness, but this part, in particular, calls me out, “if we are going to disagree on the fundamental worth of other people, I am not going to let you get away with pretending to be polite about it.” Though I want to be kind and polite, I believe in the value of each person. From now on, I pray for the courage to disagree with you on behalf of those who are oppressed and in need. It is vital that we people of faith must speak up on behalf of all children.
Jesus Blesses Little Children13 Then little children were being brought to him in order that he might lay his hands on them and pray. The disciples spoke sternly to those who brought them; 14 but Jesus said, “Let the little children come to me, and do not stop them; for it is to such as these that the kingdom of heaven belongs.” 15 And he laid his hands on them and went on his way.
2 It would be better for you if a millstone were hung around your neck and you were thrown into the sea than for you to cause one of these little ones to stumble.
Luke 17:2 New Revised Standard Version (NRSV)
What is your policy when standing up as a person of faith? Jesus was willing to risk his family, friends, reputation, and own life so that we all might know the true meaning of love. With an example of love like that, we must follow or accept that we don’t know what we are talking about when we harm another. It is time the people of faith stand up for loving the child and saving them. It is time for people of faith to speak up on behalf of the refugee, the homeless, the outcast. I’m changing my policy. How about you?
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Used with permission. Please visit his website at www.hughhollowell.org
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June 22, 2019
The Beauty of Silence with The Reverend Tamara Franks (UCC)
Since I cannot get out and support the wider LGBT community as I wish, I’m finding ways that I can do that from my home. High Country United Church of Christ (UCC), Boone, is a wonderful and open congregation here in the High Country of North Carolina. I hope you will enjoy this podcast of their service.
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June 14, 2019
June 12, 2019
Ornery Muses and Love, Sweet Love
Photo by They Might Be Fierce – Jordan Venditelli
As I finish a music project for a local church and print off a book draft, I have to laugh at how ornery my muses are. At first, I typed that they were uncooperative and realized that wasn’t exactly correct. I’m not having a creative block. If anything, they are hounding me about so many things I can’t get it all done fast enough. My body just doesn’t do fast anymore even if my mind does.
You might ask why I am calling the muses ornery or uncooperative if my creative life is thriving. I state this because about a year ago I wrote to let everyone know that I’m working on a new book about dogs. At the time, I was bold and said I hoped to have it out in 2019. It is now June and the draft of the book I’m working on is about prayer, not dogs. How in the heck did that happen? For years I’ve wanted to create a prayer book but couldn’t quite find the right format. Why, when I wanted to focus on a book about dogs, did it suddenly show itself now?
Who knows really? The creative process is what it is. One thing that comes to mind this morning is something I realize that I must also admit. The easy thing to admit is that I’ve always loved dogs best and always say I’m a dog person. The harder thing to admit is that this doesn’t mean I’ve always done the best thing for my dogs. It wasn’t because of desire to do right, but I had a lot to learn as a young dog owner. My current dog, Birdie, would say I still have a lot to learn, but she’s a bossy little thing. She is fifteen pounds of love, but also fifteen pounds of bossy!
Also, writing the book about the dogs has been harder than I thought it would be. Not only because I will be required to confess to the error of my ways but also because of how dogs are always connected with places and other loved ones. Memories of dogs open up memories of life with others and when those others have been lost and the dog has been lost too, well, sometimes I get tired of writing about loss.
The music project I planned on doing this year (a CD of hymns) has morphed so many times into other recording projects that I’ve lost count. The good thing is that it’s empowered me to encourage others. The difficult thing is that I need to practice my guitar more often…even when Birdie wants to play dragon-pull.
This day I will be facilitating discussion on a book at church. Writing books means one must also read books. Reading books takes away the time for writing books. Also, some books I’ve read lately have been extremely well-written or exquisitely poetic and my tyrant brain says why bother?
When I get discouraged the beauty in life is how the muses or the universe, or G-d, send messages to let one know to keep on going. Creativity has been my life’s work. In that creativity there has been a theme of love. As long as I’m creating words of love, songs of love, paintings of love or the result of love, the world is a better place. Here is a short video of what I’m trying to say.
The corrections are that I was not 7 or 8, but junior high age and the version of the song playing was sung by Dionne Warwick most likely.
Please visit Abigail Rose Clark also has a wonderful post about love and the importance of loving yourself and working for your own well being called “Beyond All Binaries” where she asks these good questions:
Where do we think we need to be good to be loved?
Where do we think we need to be right to be worthy?
Where do we still buy into the belief of right/wrong, good/bad, worthy/unworthy?
And how do those beliefs influence our relationships?
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