Much has been written, discussed, and debated about jury selection for the New York trial of He Who Shall Not Be Named. Things have died down a bit since the actual trial began this week, but I’m still feeling empathy for those eighteen brave souls.
In 2011, I posted “When the Jury is Judged” in the aftermath of the Casey Anthony trial. In 2013, I posted “The Nightmare of Jury Duty” after the verdict in the George Zimmerman trial
Each time was due to the visceral reaction I had to these stories in light of my own experience. In 1997, I sat on the jury for the case of a police lieutenant in Buffalo, NY who was accused of strangling a suspect in custody. We ended up finding him not guilty of manual strangulation. The reaction of the media, the public, the victim’s family was outrage. I even lost members of my congregation who disagreed with the verdict. It was a gut-wrenching experience, one that I swore I would never endure again. A juror on the Zimmerman trial said that she never wants to be on a jury again. I can relate.
This time, what triggered me was the media’s seemingly endless quest to know who the jurors are. The Washington Post ran an article giving descriptions of each juror and alternate. They gave information such as the part of Manhattan where they live, their professions, and hobbies.
OK, their names were not revealed. But on my list of some of the ways that being on this jury was a horrific experience (see below), this one stands out: The Myth of Juror Anonymity. In my case, the media knew from the start that a Lutheran pastor had been selected for the jury. It didn’t take long for them to put a name to that information.
As you may be able to tell, after over 27 years have gone by, I still have strong emotions about my experience. I feel for the jurors in this case who have the added burden of threats to their safety. So if you’re a praying person, have a thought for these jurors. At the very least, try to understand what they’re going through. And if you’re from the media, please lay off. Don’t make it even harder for them to do their civic duty.
Here are just some of the ways that being on this jury was a horrific experience:
Awareness of the presence – and expectations – of members of both families sitting in the courtroom. Whichever way the verdict went, people were going to suffer.
Experiencing the “blue wall” in testimony by some police officers. Didn’t people think we were smart enough to know what was going on?
Grandstanding by lawyers and ‘expert’ witnesses. Even though we accepted his case, I didn’t want to shake the defense attorney’s hand as we were led out of the courtroom after we were dismissed.
Long hours. In reality, it was a 9-5 job for 6 weeks, with my real job squeezed in each evening.
Myth of juror anonymity. From the start, the media knew that a Lutheran pastor had been selected for the jury. It didn’t take long for them to put a name to that information.
The fact that the accusing officer was a female officer in a male profession broke my heart. Did the fact that she appeared weak and tearful on the stand influence my negative judgment of her story?
What I suspect my experience might have in common with other jurors:
There was always dissent among jury members. We never had a monolithic position. Unfortunately, the last two holdouts for a Guilty verdict were the ones who spoke to the media after the trial. What they said in no way represented me.
We were constrained by the limits of the law. In my opinion, something very bad happened that night, but the choices we were given did not allow for judgements about police procedures.
“Beyond Reasonable Doubt” is a very, very hard place to get to. “What is truth?” Pilate asked. Trying to answer that question is a heavy burden to place upon people.
It took a long time to recover. Judgementalism and second-guessing did not help. As I told people, I was one of 12; don’t put all the blame on me if you disagree with the verdict. Also, you weren’t there in the deliberation room; you don’t know how we managed to arrive at our verdict. It’s not easy. In fact, it stinks.
I got St. Catherine of Siena because, it said, “You absolutely love contemplating unity with Christ and the beauty of the Eucharist during Maundy Thursday. It’s so fulfilling. You especially love to contemplate this while hiding in the bathroom during the foot washing portion.”
When I read that to a friend, she exclaimed, “That is so you!” And so it is. I’ve always loved the Maundy Thursday aspect of the institution of Holy Communion. And I’ve never, ever once in my 35 years of parish ministry planned a service that included foot washing. I will modify that to say that I’ve participated in such a service when we had a joint service with two other congregations. So I went along. But, yeah, I wanted to hide out in the bathroom.
I’m grateful to St. Catherine for assuring me that I’m not alone. But the quiz results also got me thinking about another form of foot washing, that is the lovely scented bath that precedes a pedicure. From there my mind went to the seminar we had several years ago about human trafficking, where we learned that women who work in nail salons are often victims of trafficking for prostitution and/or forced labor. Ever since I’ve been mindful of the usually young, usually Asian women who wash my feet. I’ve read articles on how to look for signs of trafficking and frequent places I know are reputable. Still, knowing that this problem exists is troubling. And I’ve been pondering how it fits in with the message of Maundy Thursday.
Then I began hearing about congregations that have been taking the tradition of foot washing to a whole new level by reaching out to people experiencing homelessness, whose only mode of transportation is by foot. These folks often suffer from foot problems caused by ill-fitting , worn out, or wet shoes. Or they’ve contracted skin diseases, abscesses, and infections in shelter showers. So, some churches have been offering the opportunity for them to have their feet washed. Some also give out new socks and shoes. Others also have foot-care clinics, with professional medical care.
I’m intrigued with the idea of re-imagining Maundy Thursday’s foot washing tradition as a way to concretely, not just symbolically, serve the needs of the people around us. In a city like San Francisco, which has one of the highest homeless populations in the country, there is ample opportunity to offer foot care that’s not a spa day luxury, but a health care necessity.
San Francisco is also a center for human trafficking. Maundy Thursday could be a day to promote awareness of the issue, publish warning signs and resources, and include survivors, victims and the agencies who work to eradicate trafficking in our worship service.
You might have other creative ideas.
As we seek to translate ancient rituals into modern ways of thinking and being, I wonder how we can convey the humble servitude of Maundy Thursday foot washing in our post-modern, post-Christian, spiritual-but-not-religious city. And if we can, I might even come out of the bathroom.
The angry young protestor said he was taking a stand for Jesus. When I prayed, I heard a voice telling me, “Lend a hand for Jesus.” I asked what he was protesting. He said, “Because I’m being oppressed.” When I prayed, I heard a voice ask me, “Who are the folks you’ve blessed?” I asked him to tell me about this oppression. He said, “I have to follow so many rules!” When I prayed, I heard a voice say “Pray silently for all you fools.” I asked him which rules were the hardest. He said, “I can’t say or do what I want!” When I prayed, I heard a voice say, “Surrender the urge to taunt.” I asked him to tell me his story. As he did, tears rolled down his face. In the very act of listening to him I could sense I was in…
After a conversation with a friend today, lamenting humanity’s seeming inability to move beyond either/or thinking, I went back to a prayer I found on a blog called prayerandverse.
“Litany of Contradictory Things” is based on a prayer by the same name by Michael Moynahan, SJ in the book Hearts on Fire. Here is just part of the prayer – you’ll get the idea.
Wheat and weeds: let them grow together.
Arabs and Jews in Palestine: let them grow together.
Greeks and Turks of the Balkans: let them grow together.
Documented and undocumented aliens: let them grow together.
Immigrants and Native Americans: let them grow together.
Revolutionaries and reactionaries: let them grow together.
Russians and Americans: let them grow together.
People of God who wound and heal: let them grow together.
Those whose thinking is similar and contrary: let them grow together.
Joys and sorrows, laughter, tears: let them grow together.
Strength and weakness: let them grow together.
Doubt and faith: let them grow together.
Virtue and vice: let them grow together.
Contemplation and action: let them grow together.
All the contrarieties of the Lord: let them grow together.
What would comprise my list of contradictory pairs?
This got me thinking: what would comprise my list of contradictory pairs? And to be unflinchingly honest, which of them would be the most difficult for me personally?
depression and joy
anxiety and contentment
progressive Christians and evangelical ones
those who agree with the importance of inclusive language in the church and those who don’t
benefits and drawbacks of institutional religion
introverts and extroverts
those who make lists and those who “play it by ear”
work and play
eating healthily and binging on Cherry Garcia
fair and unfair
doing and being
fixing problems and letting things be
It’s all about balance
I could probably go on and on. But I think I’ve gotten Father Moynahan’s point. Let them grow together. I need to live into the ‘and’ in me, to let my contradictions grow together. You’d think I’d know this already. I’m a Libra, my astrological sign is represented by the scales. We Libras love symmetry and balance.
AND it’s all about justice
The scales also represent the scales of justice. I’m a ‘One’ on the Enneagram. Ones are often described as reformers. We want to fix the world and we can get very frustrated when we’re not able to do what we believe is the right thing to do. But I also have a ‘Nine’ wing, which means that I want to be a peacemaker and create harmony. Again with the balance!
Let them grow together. It’s a tough challenge. But living into ‘And’ begins with me – and you. What are your contradictory things?
Misery and joy have the same shape in this world: You may call the rose an open heart or a broken heart.
– Jalal-ud-Din Rumi (Translated by Andrew Harvey from A Year of Rumi)
Sometimes it’s just too hard. Or to be honest, I just don’t want to. Living into ‘and’ is difficult enough in a politically and culturally fractured world is hard enough. But when a divide opens up in the church, it feels even more painful.
Of course, the split in the Methodist Church is the big news these days. But there’s a division here in my corner of Luther World. In the ELCA (Evangelical Lutheran Church in America), we have synods. Each synod has a bishop who is chosen by clergy and lay members of that synod. Last year, in a historic action, the Sierra Pacific Synod elected the Rev. Megan Rohrer to the office of bishop. The importance of that action was that Bishop Rohrer (they/their/them) was the first transgender bishop in the ELCA.
It’s been only since 2009 that the ELCA has allowed the full inclusion of LGBTQ clergy. Although Pastor Rohrer has been ordained since 2006, their ordination was through Extraordinary Lutheran Ministries (ELM). When the ELCA changed its policy, they were one of the “Bay Area Seven” received into the ELCA in 2010. So the 2021 election was big!
Fast forward to one year later, to a contentious synod assembly that frankly left participants traumatized. The day after the assembly, Bishop Megan Rohrer resigned. To me, the aftermath felt very similar to the 2016 presidential election. I now find myself on opposing sides from some of my friends and colleagues.
What happened? It depends who you ask. Some facts are known; some (due to confidentiality) are not. In a nutshell: after accusations of racism, based on the removal of the pastor of a predominantly Latino congregation, and after a resolution from the assembly floor called for their resignation, and after that resolution narrowly failed, and after Presiding Bishop Elizabeth Eaton declared us a divided synod, and after the assembly was over Eaton declared in an email her intention to bring disciplinary charges against Bishop Rohrer for newly discovered information (which has never been disclosed), Bishop Rohrer resigned, citing “the constant misinformation, bullying and harassment that has taken too hard a toll on the Synod I love, my family and myself.”
After that it all gets very murky. If you believe everything you read on social media, you will vilify Megan Rohrer and clamor for the restoration of roster status to the pastor who was removed. But there is so much more involved. In fact, this situation has been festering since last year’s assembly. During the election process, then-Bishop Holmerud disclosed that there were allegations of abuse against one of the candidates, Pastor Nelson Rabell-Gonzales. The uproar was immediate, as accusations of racism, white supremacy, and ‘professional lynching’ were hurled at the bishop and the ELCA.
When Megan Rohrer was elected, many lamented that the final two candidates had been white. I truly get the desire to have a person of color elected to the office of bishop and would support that person wholeheartedly. But I would like us also to see the historic nature of Pastors Jeff Johnson and Megan Rohrer at the top of that ballot. Barred from the ELCA for so long, both had fought a hard fight to that place. But in the eyes of many, they were simply ‘white.’
Then came the incident that touched off the call for Bishop Rohrer’s resignation: the removal of Nelson Rabell-Gonzales from Iglesia Luterana Santa Maria Peregrina on December 12, the Feast of Our Lady of Guadalupe. Disputes over facts abound. There are some who claim to have the whole story. One, a contributor on the Patheos website (and a friend of Rabell-Gonzales), has written extensively about Bishop Rohrer’s “abuse of power.” These articles have been widely disseminated through social media as the truth. The latest article, “Unraveling Rohrer’s Big Lie,” borders on libel.
So now we have an interim bishop. And in a “A Letter Regarding Bishop Claire Burkat’s Visit to Iglesia Luterana Santa María Peregrina,” she promises “to bring reconciliation, healing, and hope to a synod that has experienced great turmoil” and to “renew trust in the Office of the Bishop.” Hmm. OK. Then she reports that on her first Sunday, she visited Iglesia Luterana Santa Maria Peregrina and apologized for the lack of care to the congregation and promised a full investigation into the accusations against Nelson Rabell-Gonzalez. While she did not mention the participation of Rabell-Gonzalez, he appears in a photo with her at the church. This prompted my letter to the bishop, which you can find below.
We are still a divided synod. And I am not yet ready to participate in clergy gatherings where I know I will disagree with some of my colleagues. I am angry at the process that scapegoated one person for problems that exist within our synod. I am angry at the misinformation being passed off as facts.
But if I intend to practice what I preach, I have to be committed to finding a way of getting to and living into ‘and.’
So I went back to what I’ve been learning from people who are better at this than I am.
Emotional Regulation Anger is difficult for me. I hate conflict, so I’m usually a fan of the ‘flight’ rather than ‘fight’ response. But when something really gets my dander up, I can go off in a rant. Neither of these behaviors is helpful. So the number one skill I have to remember is to take a breath, create some space between the trigger and my response. Even if others are not managing their emotions, I have to regulate mine. This doesn’t mean that I don’t feel angry or that I deny my anger. I can even say that I’m angry. But I do it calmly, by choice, and as a way to get to a better level of communication.
2. ‘Change Conversation Cycle’ developed by Karin Tamerius, founder of Smart Politics. If I’m able to regulate my anger, I’m getting more confident of moving through this process. I’m pretty good at asking questions. I’m a good listener. I can reflect back the other person’s position. But I run into trouble when I try to share my point of view without going into preaching mode. In the role play I did in my workshop in Buffalo, we all had a good laugh at my obvious stumble at that point. As soon as I did it, I knew, my role play partner knew it, and all those watching us knew it. It was actually a good teaching moment both of how the cycle works and how difficult it can be to get all the way to that level. It takes practice and I can’t avoid a difficult conversation forever.
3. Revolutionary Love I keep going back to Valerie Kaur’s Revolutionary Love Project and the three points of the pledge she asks us to take:
We declare our love for all who are in harm’s way.
We declare love even for our opponents
We declare love for ourselves.
Check out the more detailed descriptions on her website.
I took the pledge and I am trying to overcome the challenge of getting to ‘and’ in my church. Stay tuned for updates.
A Letter to Interim Bishop Claire Burkat
Dear Bishop Burkat,
I have no doubt that you are sincere in your desire to bring reconciliation, healing, and hope to our synod. However, I do not agree with your action of leading worship at Iglesia Luterana Santa María Peregrina. While you do not name Pastor Rabell-Gonzalez as being in attendance, the photo on his Facebook page confirms his presence. In my opinion, your stated intention to renew trust in the Office of the Bishop, you have made it clear that you have already made judgements about what happened.
At the end of our synod assembly, Presiding Bishop Elizabeth Eaton said that we are a divided synod. That is still true. I am disturbed and angry at the way this entire situation has been mishandled. It was clear at the assembly that many people, especially lay members, did not know what had happened on December 12, 2021. They were confused and begged for more information. Within the constraints of time and Roberts Rules of Order, we were forced to take a vote, and the assembly voted to not ask Bishop Rohrer to resign. To my surprise, Bishop Eaton announced in an email the next day that she would be bringing disciplinary action against Bishop Rohrer based on “new information.” That “new information” has never been disclosed.
I have been watching the January 6 hearings and have been struck by the integrity of the process they have conducted. In comparison, the handling of our December 12 crisis has been incompetent and infuriating. No one knows all the facts. Some of us know some of the facts but have been asked not to break confidentiality. Some have been making public commentary in spite of not knowing all the facts. Lies and misinformation have been disseminated throughout the ELCA and the entire country. If we had an opportunity to hear all the facts (minus the names of alleged victims of Pastor Rabell-Gonzalez), we could make informed decisions.
The assembly also made clear the tension between anti-racist activists and the LGBTQ community. Bishop Rohrer was continually misgendered by members of the assembly, even after correction. The listening team even had to make an apology about their ignorance around autism characteristics exhibited by Bishop Rohrer. It was obvious to me that we had an opportunity to learn about and deal with a very real situation of the intersectionality of oppressed communities. Instead, it now appears that one community is being privileged over others. I can’t help wondering what Pastor Rabell-Gonzalez’s accusers feel when they see your smiling faces on the photo from Sunday. Whatever happened to “listen to the women”?
I am glad that there will be an investigation of the circumstances regarding the removal of Nelson Rabell-Gonzalez. I hope there will also be an investigation into the actions of the previous bishop and synod council, the actions and inactions of Presiding Bishop Eaton, and the scapegoating of Bishop Rohrer. Many of the comments from speakers at the microphones at synod assembly had nothing to do with the December 12 action. However, misinformation, ignorance of the facts, and personal opinion created what came to be called “a pattern of behavior” that convinced some that Bishop Rohrer was unfit to serve.
I hope that such an investigation will take place. After this initial action, however, I have my doubts. A day at Churchwide Assembly to offer a public apology to Iglesia Luterana Santa María Peregrina, may sound good in a press release, but to me it sounds like vindication for Nelson Rabell-Gonzalez – and that is certainly how he is promoting it in social media. Rather than one more public commitment to anti-racism, I wish we could we have a public commitment to the truth – and to a real process of reconciliation.
I do not intend to watch any of the proceedings from Churchwide Assembly. I am disappointed, discouraged, and disheartened by the mishandling of December 12. Many people, including the members of Iglesia Luterana Santa María Peregrina, have been hurt. Our synod is divided. Colleagues are divided. We are broken. My question to you is how are you going to help all of us come together into a place of truth and healing?
Rev. Susan M. Strouse
Lutheran Church of the Good Shepherd 301 Burlingame Avenue Burlingame, CA
This past weekend, I led a retreat and preached at the Church of the Nativity in Buffalo, NY. After phone and Zoom conversations beforehand with the planning committee about what they wanted to get out of our time together, we decided the title for the weekend would be “Carrying Christ into a Divided World.”
It all started with Pastor Ruth Snyder, who’s been my best friend since the days I served a congregation in Buffalo. She heard the committee discussing ideas and said, “You know, I have a friend who might be able to help.” She picked up her phone and just happened (despite three hours time difference) to catch me in my office. The original idea had been my book, The INTRAfaith Conversation: How Do Christians Talk Among Ourselves About INTERfaith Matters? But it quickly turned to our current national quandary: how do we have civil conversations with people with whom we disagree.
I’ve been saying for a while now that the process of talking across differences in religious beliefs could be the same for political and cultural beliefs as well. The event I helped organize, Hearts Across the Divide: Reclaiming Civil Discourse, had been scheduled for March 2020. Of course COVID put an end to that. For that event, we had lined up an experienced facilitator in this kind of dialogue. For this retreat, I would be the “expert” and it would come from a Christian context.
We spent the first half of the day grounding our endeavor in our faith. In the second half we learned some tools for doing the work. I’m a firm believer that it’s not enough to write and read books and articles about the need to do this work; we have to make the commitment to do it. And believe me – it is not easy! But, like everything worth doing, it takes practice.
We declare our love for all who are in harm’s way.
We declare love even for our opponents
We declare love for ourselves.
Of course #2 is the hard one. Kaur: “It’s tempting to see our opponents as evil, but I have learned that there are no such things as monsters in this world, only human beings who are wounded, people whose insecurities or anxieties or greed or blindness cause them to hurt us. Our opponents – the terrorist, the fanatic, the demagogue in office – are people who don’t know what else to do with their insecurity but to hurt us, to pull the trigger, or cast the vote, or pass the policy aimed at us.” And she encourages us to “tend the wound,”
Make no mistake: Valerie Kaur is not naive; you have only to read or watch her to know this. And so I encouraged retreat participants to learn to listen to the stories of those with whom they disagree, to learn to regulate their own anger, defensiveness, and fight or flight reactions. It’s a hard first step in a process of relationship-building and, hopefully, a glimmer of mutual understanding.
Ruth and I did a role-play, in which I met with a pro-life evangelical pastor. It was heartening to see how people got the wisdom of establishing connection and trust before getting into the disagreements.
And then . . . we discovered at the very time we were engaged in peace-building, a gunman opened fire in a predominately Black neighborhood in Buffalo. Kaur’s words bounced around in my head along with the heart-rending news and pictures and stories of the victims and their families and neighbors.
It’s tempting to see our opponents as evil, but I have learned that there are no such things as monsters in this world, only human beings who are wounded, people whose insecurities or anxieties or greed or blindness cause them to hurt us.
Now, I know there have been calls by many to not be sidetracked by questions of this man’s mental health or other factors that might have played into his evil actions. But I believe in the “both/and” where most of life resides. We can both try to understand (which does not mean excusing) and condemn his actions.
As I tried to work through my own emotions and my belief in the work of civil conversation, I wondered how Kaur would respond. In her blog post this week, ‘grieving in the wake of Buffalo,’ she called us to “reach out to the colleagues, neighbors, relatives in your life who subscribe to this dangerous and racist belief (replacement theory). Open a channel for deep listening, share stories, stop the spread of misinformation.”
Yes, this is where it gets really hard. And we have to do the work of #1 and #3 as well. But if we are going to have any impact on the hearts and minds of people who have bought into dangerous ideas – many of them fueled by unscrupulous politicians and media personalities – we have to move into the both/and parts of our brains. And get to work.
Make no mistake; my political leanings have not changed. I am still a “Proud Member of the Religious Left.” But . . . or rather I should say And . . .
in the wake of election, pandemic, political, cultural, and religious divisiveness, it’s pretty clear that we need a shift in our way of being with one another – all of our one-anothers.
It’s no secret that we are a deeply divided country. Rants from every side on every issue ricochet off our silo walls. Families, friendships, churches have been rent asunder. I hear many voices bemoaning this sorry state, but few suggestions of ways to move forward.
I’m not being preachy here; I know that I need to make this shift. It’s been too easy to shelter inside my neatly ordered world of those who are of the same mind as me. Truth be told, I do my share of ranting. The issues confronting us today inspire outrage and passion. I don’t expect that to end any time soon. I also know I have to do better.
The most important word
Lately I have been intrigued and inspired by Father Richard Rohr’s take on his organization, The Center for Action and Contemplation:
“The most important word in our name is not Action nor is it Contemplation; it’s the word ’and’. We need both compassionate action and contemplative practice for the spiritual journey.“
Ah, I think he’s onto something. I look around and I notice how much either/or, black/white, all-or-nothing thinking abounds – everywhere. Social media and cable news thrive on it, but it infects our personal interactions as well.
Take this example. It’s a meme that showed up a few years ago. Its wish for help for homeless veterans is set against others’ wish for help for immigrants and refugees. But it’s a false dichotomy. There’s no reason to limit our care to either homeless veterans or immigrants and refugees, when in reality we can care for both/and.
Generally speaking, social media has become very unsocial and not a place where much constructive dialogue happens. With the exception of sites like Smart Politics, where the stated purpose is to teach progressives how to talk across partisan divides, most of the ‘dialogue’ is either ‘gotcha’ memes or personal attacks.
It’s not always along the political divide, either. Even groups that are purportedly religious have become pretty toxic. We seem to have become captive to a hierarchy of grievances. Most of the grievances are valid. However the makeup of the hierarchy shifts from group to group, depending on who is seen as privileged and who is seen as oppressed. But all that happens in these Oppression Olympics is that we all end up being losers.
The way out of this quagmire is to ditch hierarchical models of either/or, top/bottom, in/out and begin Living into ‘And’.
* Oppression Olympics is a term used when two or more groups compete to prove themselves more oppressed than the others.
Showing up for one another
Living into ‘And’ opens up a lot more space for us to address the social ills of our day. I can be anti-racist and address problems created by misogyny. I can advocate for lgbtq+ rights and address the rights of those who are disabled. I’m not saying that every advocacy organization should take on every issue; they should keep on doing what they do best. We each may have one issue that is of primary importance, but that doesn’t mean we ignore or negate the importance of the others. The result of Living into ‘And’ is that we can show up for one another.
I just started reading Dear White Peacemakers by Osheta Moore and she has the perfect illustration. She decided to attend the Special Olympics because a friend had told her: “we belong to each other. Every single person whom God has made is immediately a member of this large, messy family. We’re siblings, and siblings show up for one another.”
She describes this ‘Living into And’ experience: “That weekend my disabled siblings were running and playing their hearts out, so I decided to gather the kids, make some signs, and spend a Saturday cheering them on. Having three children who are grossly labeled as “typical,” I was challenged by Margot’s encouragement to show up because I rarely if at all make space to consider how people with disabilities move through their lives. Because I don’t have to, it’s easy to not grieve their losses, celebrate their joys, or learn how they perceive this big, vast, challenging world. For over thirty years of my life, I’ve lived with them, but never for them, and most definitely not among them. And so I decided to pay attention, first to their joys at the Special Olympics and then to their perspective by learning from Margot, whose intentional community gathers people of all abilities to truly become that large, messy family.”
So much better than the Oppression Olympics!
This poem by blogger Todd Jenkins appeared in my inbox this week – just in time for me to include it here.
Sides
I had a side, and I thought my side mattered, a lot. The people on my side were like me, and they made it feel good to be me.
What I couldn’t see from my side, because I was blinded by my reflection in all the people on my side, was that I wasn’t put on this earth to create sides or choose sides.
There’s a reason the planet is round. It doesn’t have sides.
I was put here to invite people to a table; a round table that doesn’t have sides. I bet you were, too.
It’s not even my table. It’s God’s table; a table of welcome, a table of generosity, a table of abundance.
*This is a repost from June, 2018 For the Fourth Sunday in Advent, 2020
Did you know that in the 1800s, British authorities banned TheMagnificat from being recited in church?
And in the 1970s, Argentinian authorities banned TheMagnificat after the ‘Mothers of the Disappeared’ used it to call for nonviolent resistance to the ruling military junta?
And Mary said:My soul proclaims your greatness, O God, and my spirit rejoices in you, my Savior. You have shown strength with your arm; you have scattered the proud in their conceit; you have deposed the mighty from their thrones, and raised the lowly to high places. you have filled the hungry with good things, while you have sent the rich away empty. (Luke 1: 46-53)
I found this great tee shirt on Ben Wildflower’s Apocalyptic Art store on Etsy. And I absolutely love it! This image of Mary illustrates what I’ve been thinking for a while now: Mary is one of our greatest prophets.
TheMagnificat is Mary’s response to her cousin Elizabeth after telling her about her pregnancy. For too long, Mary the mother of Jesus has been portrayed as virginal, meek and mild, and obedient. Then, of course, these attributes are lifted up as the example for all of womanhood. But here we have another way to look at Mary – a faithful, obedient servant God, speaking in a powerful, prophetic voice of God’s justice.
SUBVERSIVE MAGNIFICAT
Throughout history, the rich, mighty, and proud were quick to get Mary’s subversive message. Yes, The Magnificat was banned being sung or read in India under British rule. Yes, the military junta of Argentina outlawed any public display of Mary’s song after the Mothers of the Plaza de Mayo plastered her words on posters throughout the capital plaza. In the 1980’s, it was banned in Guatemala.
Dietrich Bonhoeffer, the German Lutheran theologian killed by the Nazis in 1945, wrote:
The song of Mary is the oldest Advent hymn. It is at once the most passionate, the wildest, one might even say the most revolutionary Advent hymn ever sung. This is not the gentle, tender, dreamy Mary whom we sometimes see in paintings; this is the passionate, surrendered, proud, enthusiastic Mary who speaks out here….. This song…..is a hard, strong, inexorable song about collapsing thrones and humbled lords of this world, about the power of God and the powerlessness of humankind. These are the tones of the women prophets of the Old Testament that now come to life in Mary’s mouth. (The Mystery of Holy Night)
I love to preach about revolutionary Mary in Advent when the Luke text always appears. But now, I’m also claiming her as patron saint of this blog, which is dedicated to the dismantling of patriarchy.
DISMANTLING PATRIARCHAL DUALISM By definition, patriarchy is a system in which men have power over women patriarchal society consists of a male-dominated power structure throughout organized society and in individual relationships. But I want to go beyond just the male/female power dynamic to address all patriarchal dualities.
Dualism divides the world into opposed pairs of concepts. In this system, one concept in each pair is deemed superior to the other: men better than women, humans better than nature, mind better than body, etc. It’s easy to see how judgments about gender, race, class, etc. arise out of this way of seeing “reality.”
In the patriarchal belief system, ‘masculine’ qualities of reason and analysis are deemed superior to intuitive, emotional ‘feminine’ qualities. Misogyny isn’t just about women; it includes anyone perceived to be ‘like a woman,’ which explains much of the homophobia directed towards gay men. Homophobia is underpinned by patriarchy, which defines what it means to be a ‘real man’ and a ‘real woman.’ The domination of women and the domination of nature are also fundamentally connected, which has lead us to the brink of environmental destruction.
IT’S YOUR RELIGION, STUPID
Unfortunately, it’s been religion that has propped up this dualistic, misogynistic, body-denying, earth-destroyng worldview. And it’s time for it to end. This blog will continue to explore the religious roots of patriarchy – in all its forms – and hopefully contribute to dismantling at least a small piece of it.
*** TheMagnificat image is used with permission. *** You can find other prints by Ben Wildflower here.
Some years ago, the congregation where I was the pastor decided they needed a new logo – something that would immediately convey who we were as a progressive Christian church. So we engaged the services of a graphic designer and anxiously awaited our new look.
The first design we were given was an immediate flop – but I don’t fault the designer. The logo was the classic power button symbol – but with a cross inside. It really was quite good. But I told our designer that the congregation wouldn’t go for it. She looked at me quizzically and I explained that, while the cross was indeed the central symbol of the faith, it was problematic for many progressives who didn’t want to be identified with evangelical Christianity. And I was right; they took one look at it and voted thumbs down.
I am reminded of this experience every time I see a picture of Kayleigh McEnany, current White House press secretary. No matter what outfit she’s wearing, a little gold cross is always front and center.
In no way am I mocking or criticizing her for wearing a cross. It’s obviously a very meaningful expression of her faith. However, there are major differences between what she and I believe as Christians.
A recent article in The New Republic describes McEnany’s belief in what she perceives to be a war on Christian belief and morality in America. She was strongly inspired by the death of Rachel Joy Scott, one of the students at Columbine High School in 1999. As the story is often told, the shooters asked Scott if she believed in God. When she said yes, they shot her four times.
At first I was confused. I remembered a story like this, but the name was different. I knew there was a book about Cassie Bernall entitled She Said Yes. Rachel Scott’s story is similar. A book written by her father is entitled Rachel Smiles: The Spiritual Legacy of Columbine Martyr Rachel Scott.
It has been widely reported that there was no religious motivation for the murders that day. But that hasn’t stopped Bernall and Scott’s elevation to martyrdom, proof of religious persecution of Christians that continues to this day in the minds of many evangelicals – as McEnany wrote in a column on the fourteenth anniversary of Columbine:
“As Congress tries relentlessly to squelch religious liberty and remove God from our public buildings, our schools, and our heritage, let’s choose instead to honor the written word of Rachel Joy Scott this April 20th: “I am not going to apologize for speaking the Name of Jesus. I am not going to justify my faith to them, and I am not going to hide the light that God has put in me. If I have to sacrifice everything … I will.”
As a “warrior for Christ” (an appellation taken from Rachel Scott’s journal), McEnany embodies a form of Christianity that I cannot embrace. And with her role in the political arena, it is troubling to see cross and flag so close together.
The question remains: should Progressive Christians abandon the symbol of the cross? I don’t think so. But I continue to struggle with the dilemma of how to promote a form of Christianity that is different in so many ways from McEnany’s.
At an intrafaith workshop I led at the Parliament of the World’s Religions in 2015, I asked participants what symbol they would choose to put on a float in an interfaith parade. Someone immediately said, “A cross,” but the rest of the room expressed a collective, “No!”
Many other ideas were then offered. But there was no agreement on one symbol. Someone asked if we could have more than one float. And that’s the reality. There is more than one Christianity out there. And it bothers me to see that little gold cross front and center in press conferences, newspapers, and other media.
I’m not suggesting she should take it off. God forbid I be accused of persecuting one of Christ’s warriors. I’m simply raising the question.
The Progressive Christian Pastor 