Month: March 2021

It’s Holy Week, and the aspect of this time that makes me sick, that is a punch in the gut, is the unnecessary violence. When I went to Israel both times it was the pit that Jesus was lowered into to wait Thursday night, wet, dark, sharp with bare stone, that drove home for me just how alone Jesus must have felt, just how painful this must have been. Just how cruel the world can be.

This morning I was scrolling through my email and saw a post from a neighborhood group about someone shooting out of their car down Belmont Avenue last night. And there it was, more unnecessary violence. More building up of hate, misunderstanding, revenge. 

We are told that Jesus suffered so horribly to end all suffering. I am not the first person to point out that just didn’t happen. My current theory is that we are willing to say that violence is unacceptable until we think we need it, and we are unwilling to look at all forms of violence with equal judgement.

What about the violence of poverty? Is it a coincidence that most violence occurs in areas of the most desperation?  We can all agree no one should be hungry, everyone should have a job that pays what it takes to survive, we need to improve our housing stock. Who is willing to give up some of what they have to make that happen? What will we sacrifice for our brothers and sisters?

We say that we are against the violence of racism. But we are unwilling to address the economic disparities that racism has caused that would help create a more equal playing field for people of color. We are unwilling to stand against laws that limit voting or gerrymander districts to disenfranchise whole groups of people. 

We say that domestic violence is wrong. But where are the laws that protect victims? Where are the laws that protect rape victims? Where are the laws that protect children from abuse? These are separate issues but all point in the same direction. We are unwilling to take on the power that is being protected. 

All violence is not physical. And violence cannot happen without support from the community. But we can’t pick and choose which violent system we want to change. It’s all or nothing. Until we stand strong and willing to give up something of ourselves, we will continue to see the suffering of Jesus in too many of our neighbors.

I do not like the word tolerant. It implies that you are not passionate, not fully engaged. To be tolerant is to do just enough, which most of the time is not enough.

I went to lunch yesterday with some of the international students. (How I miss going out to lunch!!!) I was particularly interested in their safety in light of the attacks on Asians that have been happening lately. I had checked in with them a few months ago when things started heating up in California, and they said they were OK. But with the murders in Atlanta, I wanted to check in again.

Several of these students were from countries in Asia, and they said they had not been mistreated at all. The Black student mentioned that she has had bad experiences in Youngstown, but the Asian students had not. I was relieved for the Asian students. I don’t know exactly what I might have done if they had specific complaints, but there would have been some action. Advocacy for the Black student is ongoing. 

Interesting to me was what they wanted to talk about. They wanted to talk about meaning, what matters in life, who they are close to and why. They wanted to talk about career paths, and how you chose a career that made a difference. They wanted to talk about connecting with people and helping others. It was a lovely and deeply meaningful exchange with people who are going to make the world a better place. People who are passionate about life. 

Once again I feel compelled to say that it is not enough to say you are against violence against any group of people. It is not enough to bemoan other people’s bad choices. It is not enough to be tolerant. That young man in Atlanta learned violence, learned hate, learned dysfunction.  Someone taught it, modeled it and probably encouraged it in his life. 

So what can we do? Speak up. The jokes aren’t funny, the slurs are unacceptable, violence is never the answer. Unless you say that, those exact things, then maybe the only thing a young man will learn is hatred. Call family and friends to make sure they feel safe. Offer to be with them, to walk with them, to shop with them, to accompany and not to control. Tell people that they matter, that kindness matters, that life matters. Make an intentional and bold difference.

Last week I went to Rotary in person for the first time in literally a year. I have been on their zoom option so I have been able to see people, hear the great speakers, and remember the kind way they treat one another, which is what attracted me to that group. I also had the seed money for the weekly raffle, $100, in a zipper pouch in my desk drawer, and I felt it was time to give it back (they knew I had it ). 

It was great to be with people in a social setting. They took good safety precautions, and everyone was careful.  I really miss going out to lunch. But about half way through the meal I realized that my table manners and social skills had suffered during the pandemic. I wolfed down my food, had to remind myself not to talk with my mouth full, and there was no mute button. I had to behave. I was a little shocked. 

The realization that I am used to being alone, eating alone, doing what I want when I feel like it, is important. I have been changed by the pandemic. It has brought out my introversion, made me less tolerant and gracious, less attentive to others. I have to re-learn how to drive at night, what to wear to a birthday party, and how to listen and eat at the same time.  All of that can and will be fixed. But it is critical to realize.

We have all been changed by this past year. It is foolish to think that we can just flip a switch and everything will be back to “normal.” We don’t even know what normal will be. My concern is that if we are not aware of the damage that this has done to us, we will take it out on each other. The joy of being back together will fade soon enough, and then the reality of our time alone will be on display. Will we re-learn how to be a community that gathers in real time, of course. Will it take work? More than we realize. 

So pay attention. Ask yourself hard questions. How am I really dealing with my anxiety? What are the griefs that I have suffered? How do I adjust to the needs of others when I have been so focused on myself? How will I keep the good things that I have become and let go of the challenges?

Let’s pray for each other in this process.

When my kids reached about 3^rd grade I gave up my relentless pursuit of being the Parent of the Year and chose to not know much of anything  Where are my soccer socks? I don’t know. When is this paper due? No clue. Did you pack my lunch? Probably not. When is my next practice? I’m just not sure. 

Seriously, of course I knew the answers!!!!!!  I just admitted to nothing. The kids would function in response to my lack of functioning, so I aimed low for myself and high for them. They could handle it, and eventually we worked out a good and proper balance of labor. 

I expected my kids to be fine. What I didn’t expect was how much I would love not having to know everything, not having to be right all the time. What a relief! I admit to being a control freak, but with 6 kids, that is a straight shot to blood pressure medication. I needed to learn to let them become responsible kids on the path to becoming responsible adults, and to learn that this benefitted all of us. We all needed to function. No one needed to over-function,

One of the virtues that I suggested that you pray about is humility. At its heart, humility is about honoring not just our gifts, but every person’s gift. It is about allowing each person their power and giving space for people to thrive. It is about sharing and cooperation done out of love, out of a deep regard for what God has created each of us to be.

Humility is not about being less, it is about allowing everyone to be enough. It is not about feeling bad about yourself. It is about knowing yourself and trusting in your gifts. It is about seeing Christ in every person, and yourself. It is about healthy and holy balance. 

Humility is not about apologizing, it is about building healthy relationships. It’s about giving everyone a chance, and especially those who are often not included or listened to. It’s about being quiet enough and present enough to notice. Not being at the center so you can build a circle. And most importantly, knowing when it is the appropriate moment for you to be a leader.

Pray about this with me. Humility is hard to practice in our self-centered, power driven culture. Jesus is our example.

I have been paying attention to gratitude this week. I was provoked by a book I am reading to think more deeply about grace before meals, thanking God for the bounty I have been giving but also thanking whatever gave up its life to feed me. It moves me to be grateful with beauty and intention.

I was raised to say prayers before meals, especially for the evening meal where we all ate supper together as a family. We always said the same prayer in a plodding way, and my dad would add a postscript that I am sure was sincere but that I always found irritating. Let’s just say that the whole experience was not inspiring to me or probably to God.

When I raised my children we followed the same basic tradition. We would try to change it up. And sometimes there were power struggles, which I am sure also didn’t inspire God. Trying to instill piety in teenagers can be epic in levels of stubbornness. But I wonder now how much I seemed to really care about prayer. How much was I an actual inspiration for gratitude?

Not that I can do anything about that now, but it has made me think about how I currently offer thanks. I find I mean it more at lunch, when I am truly grateful not always for the food but for the time, for the quiet, for a break. Hopefully for the food too, but I am not always excited about leftovers, so it is more that I have the provision I need, my daily bread. 

I am less grateful at supper, when many days of the week I am squeezing it in before my next zoom engagement. I often do not have the time to muster gratitude when I am thinking about the next meeting and my responsibilities in it. When I am not frenzied I am often tired, being a morning person I am usually spent by the end of the day.

Which doesn’t mean I am not grateful.  Or that I should not make space for gratitude regardless of the circumstances. Remembering to thank God should be happening all the time, for all my blessings. Maybe that is the key for me. A brief moment of silence or a deep breath for the sustenance and bounty with which I am provided at a meal, and a more extensive prayer of gratitude in the morning when I am awake. I am working on it. Finding the right way for this time in my life. How about you?