Greetings people. I've been bed-bound for the last 5 days, completely incapable of lifting the toilet seat, preparing lunch, or washing my hair. Talk about revelation. When kickboxing was over Monday night I noticed my legs tingling when I'd shift gears on my drive home. I went so far as opening my driver side door once I arrived but when I put one foot onto the black concrete, my back locked up on me. Despite being on heavy duty drugs right now, I'm writing because I don't want to forget what I've learned between Monday night and this moment.
Many of you know that pain is something I've been theoretically fascinated by/with for some time. My final paper in Hermeneutics with Dr. Marion Grau had to do with reading and interpreting pain. I read about emotional and physical pain on a regular basis, and I like to ask people currently experiencing pain about their world-view. I've always had this hunch that pain and pleasure--sensory data on the radical periphery for most of us--reveal something fundamental and primary about the human subject in particular and the world in general. This recent collision with pain of my own has me thinking even more deeply about the topic. In a nutshell: I'm allowing the discomfort and all its accompanying factors to teach me.
There is something distinctly separate between a) the human body and b) the thing that interprets the sensations/experience of the body though they originate from the same source. They do not always correspond, nor carry out the wish of the other. Everything I experienced on Monday night was of my own doing. I pushed it too hard in my kickboxing class. As a result my back spasmed and locked up for consequent days. Something watched this sequence of events and interpreted it as "wrong" and "needing correction." I can say with sheer honesty if someone had a gun up to my head on Monday night when my first spasm hit, I would have asked that person to pull the trigger as a way out of my back pain. No bullshit; it was that bad. It feels like an internal war--and I don't make small of the word "war" for any occasion. It's a war where one part of the self turns violently inward while the other part tries desperately to heal the violence being done inside. When I first tried to go to the bathroom on my own I instantly spasmed for 30 seconds and I swore that time I was going to relax into it instead of screaming (like I'd done the prior 10x). Without realizing it, I screamed, though I caught myself doing it and stopped. It didn't make much of a difference in my pain level to be honest, but I did prove to myself that I could mindful in the midst of acute pain. What is that part of the mind/body/self that can operate independently of or codependently with painful sensory phenomena in the mind/body/self?
One other thing I'm developing during this time of woundedness is a sense of how difficult, humiliating and HUMAN-izing it can be to constantly ask for help. The first two days I had to pee standing up and often things wouldn't go as I planned and I'd find myself needing someone to take a washcloth with water and soap to my urine-covered legs. Not sexy. On Tuesday my friend LeAnn had to take at least an hour and a half out of her work day to get my medications from Kaiser and to heat up a bowl of noodles so I didn't get sick taking meds on an empty stomach. Not dope. The list could go on forever: water bottle filling, changing clothes, applying deodorant, restacking pillows between my knees, bringing food and preparing food, putting reading material by the bed-side, clearing potential trip-up factors from the floor, etc. Experiencing this level of powerlessness re-minds me: we belong to each other. That's the lesson. This is what the periphery has shown me in great detail.
Whoever came up with the notion of rampant individualism as the key to freedom never experienced temporary or chronic paralysis. The ONLY reason I'm not starved, unshowered, completely immobilized and covered in my own shit right now is because there are loving people in my life who consider it their responsibility to care for me in tangible, concrete ways. I hope I never forget their kindness or how fucking hard this experience has been. If I can carry the wisdom of this time forward, I will be a better Chaplain, lover, and friend. May it be so.
Most special thanks to James and LeAnn.
Thursday, March 26, 2009
Thursday, March 19, 2009
6th Anniversary of the US invasion of Iraq
Did you know that half the people killed in the U.S. waged war in Iraq are civilians?
Not in my name. I hope not in yours either. Resist family, resist.
Not in my name. I hope not in yours either. Resist family, resist.
Thursday, March 12, 2009
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
A Professional Reflection on Chaplaincy, Confidentiality and Justice
One of the things about Chaplaincy that I've come to appreciate and feel incredibly ambivalent about is the amount of access I have to the life-stories of my patients. Patients tell me things that they confess having kept secret all their lives. It is a privilege, perhaps an unearned one, to sit in a place of sacred receptivity, to be a site of intimate telling and unburdening for people. What I'm struggling to understand is how I should respond to the information I am given. I have a responsibility to keep the confidentiality of my visits except when treatment teams need to be given information for health care reasons. Most of the time the details of my pastoral visits are kept quiet; they linger in the recesses of my mind and I take them in prayer to a Source much greater than myself. But lately my conscience is being kicked by patterns I'm detecting--patterns I'm particularly able to observe because of the access I have.
Doctors diagnose physical ailments. Psycho-social teams tend to the psychological and social support systems in place (or lacking) in the lives of patients. But Chaplains get to hear about everything, particularly about the things that are causing guilt. G-d knows religion has been about propagating guilt in a major way, especially in certain theological circles, so it's no surprise that patients would project this "guilt seeking" sentiment onto Chaplains and engage the relationship from there. I hear confessions everyday. I hear people's meaning-making methods multiple times a day. I get to hear how people make sense of their illnesses, how people interpret the traumas that have happened to them. More often than not, people see their sickness, psychosis or trauma as punishment or karma, or they take full responsibility for what's happening to them without consideration of the larger systems that might have contributed to their current struggle. In this work, as a result of being a Chaplain in the VA, I have begun to a) detest strongly the role of secrecy and guilt-provoking in conservative religion & 2) think about what role I can play in unlocking those shame-based halls of psychological and spiritual abuse in my lifetime as a Chaplain/Minister.
Let me be specific...
There's a particular clinic that I work on 3x a week. I have been listening to the life stories of these guys for 7 months. They all have a disease of the blood. More than any other unit or clinic I rotate on, these patients have family problems. In fact, all of them, with one exception, are estranged from their children. The one exception is estranged from his mother. Now tell me that problems within the blood line aren't at all related to problems of blood flow. Is that mere coincidence? Or how about the fact that over 75% of the patients I see in the "Psych Ward" confess to having "homosexual experiences" during their time in the Military. Are these just "bad apples" or is psychosis something that results when we tell people their biological proclivities and pleasure-seeking capacities are sinful and unnatural in the eyes of God?
It's not always ethical to make these connections. These insights/observations are often unwelcome in the health care world because they aren't "empirically proven." Further, drawing conclusions like this can often place the locus of responsibility for health impairment on the patient. That is the last thing I'm trying to do. What I'm trying to do is open conversations about "sickness" up so that the locus of responsibility for health widens. I'm also offering this reflection up to document my struggle with what needs to be kept quiet (for confidentiality and integrity's sake) and what needs to be exposed for the sake of life/justice itself. How can I look upon these conditions/realities and the suffering they cause, knowing they will continue if silence remains so pervasive, and keep my mouth shut? It's not an easy line to tow and I always learn so much when I pose questions to those who have gone before or who are struggling to tow the same lines. Having said that, I'd like to hear what my other Chaplain sisters and brothers have to say--Wade, Laura, LeAnn, Anna? What is our responsibility with the information we receive, as chaplains, prophets and pastors, to our patients and to the world?
Doctors diagnose physical ailments. Psycho-social teams tend to the psychological and social support systems in place (or lacking) in the lives of patients. But Chaplains get to hear about everything, particularly about the things that are causing guilt. G-d knows religion has been about propagating guilt in a major way, especially in certain theological circles, so it's no surprise that patients would project this "guilt seeking" sentiment onto Chaplains and engage the relationship from there. I hear confessions everyday. I hear people's meaning-making methods multiple times a day. I get to hear how people make sense of their illnesses, how people interpret the traumas that have happened to them. More often than not, people see their sickness, psychosis or trauma as punishment or karma, or they take full responsibility for what's happening to them without consideration of the larger systems that might have contributed to their current struggle. In this work, as a result of being a Chaplain in the VA, I have begun to a) detest strongly the role of secrecy and guilt-provoking in conservative religion & 2) think about what role I can play in unlocking those shame-based halls of psychological and spiritual abuse in my lifetime as a Chaplain/Minister.
Let me be specific...
There's a particular clinic that I work on 3x a week. I have been listening to the life stories of these guys for 7 months. They all have a disease of the blood. More than any other unit or clinic I rotate on, these patients have family problems. In fact, all of them, with one exception, are estranged from their children. The one exception is estranged from his mother. Now tell me that problems within the blood line aren't at all related to problems of blood flow. Is that mere coincidence? Or how about the fact that over 75% of the patients I see in the "Psych Ward" confess to having "homosexual experiences" during their time in the Military. Are these just "bad apples" or is psychosis something that results when we tell people their biological proclivities and pleasure-seeking capacities are sinful and unnatural in the eyes of God?
It's not always ethical to make these connections. These insights/observations are often unwelcome in the health care world because they aren't "empirically proven." Further, drawing conclusions like this can often place the locus of responsibility for health impairment on the patient. That is the last thing I'm trying to do. What I'm trying to do is open conversations about "sickness" up so that the locus of responsibility for health widens. I'm also offering this reflection up to document my struggle with what needs to be kept quiet (for confidentiality and integrity's sake) and what needs to be exposed for the sake of life/justice itself. How can I look upon these conditions/realities and the suffering they cause, knowing they will continue if silence remains so pervasive, and keep my mouth shut? It's not an easy line to tow and I always learn so much when I pose questions to those who have gone before or who are struggling to tow the same lines. Having said that, I'd like to hear what my other Chaplain sisters and brothers have to say--Wade, Laura, LeAnn, Anna? What is our responsibility with the information we receive, as chaplains, prophets and pastors, to our patients and to the world?
Monday, March 2, 2009
Forever Funeral
In what was left of 1994 and then into 1995
during the days before mom cleaned his closet out,
I'd pull my dad's blue and gold robe from the hanger,
put it around my little adolescent torso,
snuggle into his smell, find all the pictures of our family
and the cards people sent when he died and play
Neil Young's Philadelphia while crying my green eyes blue.
Now, when I feel like I'm the only one who remembers him,
I listen to the same song and bring him back to earth for
four minutes and sixteen seconds. He had stubby, wide fingers
and navy blue brought out his features. He wore Calvin Klein
Obsession cologne and smoked a pipe. He loved C.G. Jung
and told hilarious, dirty jokes. I was only thirteen,
but I'm not crazy. My dad lived once.
during the days before mom cleaned his closet out,
I'd pull my dad's blue and gold robe from the hanger,
put it around my little adolescent torso,
snuggle into his smell, find all the pictures of our family
and the cards people sent when he died and play
Neil Young's Philadelphia while crying my green eyes blue.
Now, when I feel like I'm the only one who remembers him,
I listen to the same song and bring him back to earth for
four minutes and sixteen seconds. He had stubby, wide fingers
and navy blue brought out his features. He wore Calvin Klein
Obsession cologne and smoked a pipe. He loved C.G. Jung
and told hilarious, dirty jokes. I was only thirteen,
but I'm not crazy. My dad lived once.
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Ashes to Ashes, Dust to Dust
Black out my forehead.
Place the symbol that implicates me
where everyone can see.
Make it visible. Make it tangible.
Make the G-d of the Cross
the cranium consideration of my entire life.
I am guilty.
We are guilty.
No rituals of pardon. No premature forgiveness.
Let this religion force upon the body
the truth of worldly death
because of Gaza and Grant and Iraq and dirty rivers.
Remind me by the imposition
that I am not the Savior but the one needing to be saved
because my funds and fuck-around attitudes
keep modern Calvary's realistic and resounding.
Because generations of slightly off-center womyn
cry out from their graves to me: get right, Emily,
lest ye die in Jerusalem with your back to the Wall.
Because I have the Law and keep stroking
that calf while calling out for redemption.
Place those intersectional lines
where all these new age, yoga posing white people say the
"third eye" is located and make it big
because I want to die, here and now, to myself,
to this country/empire that preaches liberation while enslaving
the psychological and physical fields of humanity.
Let the wood of the tree
and the utilitarian tool-making destructive capacity looming
large on this planet, ever ready to spring up in my soul,
let it sit dead-center, where I cannot hide from it,
so that when You are ready, I may rise with You.
Place the symbol that implicates me
where everyone can see.
Make it visible. Make it tangible.
Make the G-d of the Cross
the cranium consideration of my entire life.
I am guilty.
We are guilty.
No rituals of pardon. No premature forgiveness.
Let this religion force upon the body
the truth of worldly death
because of Gaza and Grant and Iraq and dirty rivers.
Remind me by the imposition
that I am not the Savior but the one needing to be saved
because my funds and fuck-around attitudes
keep modern Calvary's realistic and resounding.
Because generations of slightly off-center womyn
cry out from their graves to me: get right, Emily,
lest ye die in Jerusalem with your back to the Wall.
Because I have the Law and keep stroking
that calf while calling out for redemption.
Place those intersectional lines
where all these new age, yoga posing white people say the
"third eye" is located and make it big
because I want to die, here and now, to myself,
to this country/empire that preaches liberation while enslaving
the psychological and physical fields of humanity.
Let the wood of the tree
and the utilitarian tool-making destructive capacity looming
large on this planet, ever ready to spring up in my soul,
let it sit dead-center, where I cannot hide from it,
so that when You are ready, I may rise with You.
Tuesday, February 17, 2009
All of Us Must Have Been Sleeping
When it happened, some of us were planting in the garden or
spreading manure and digging the pungent soil into beds. Some
of us were looking into the eyes of the beloved, or into reflections
of self we mistook for the beloved. Some of us were finding it
hard to breathe. Some of us were trying to keep the house clean,
making plans or canceling them. When it happened some of us
left the television sets and the news of bombs hammering against
the night and sat down in chairs and tried to explain to ourselves
what it was about. Some of us couldn't bear to come out at all,
but stood alone in the spring evening and stroked softly, softly
our fear. All of us must have been asleep to have let so many lies
slip by like the hundreds of days between now and then, slip by
like this silence we have not yet learned to break.
*On the anniversary of the bombing on Baghdad, March 18, 2004
Terry Ehret
spreading manure and digging the pungent soil into beds. Some
of us were looking into the eyes of the beloved, or into reflections
of self we mistook for the beloved. Some of us were finding it
hard to breathe. Some of us were trying to keep the house clean,
making plans or canceling them. When it happened some of us
left the television sets and the news of bombs hammering against
the night and sat down in chairs and tried to explain to ourselves
what it was about. Some of us couldn't bear to come out at all,
but stood alone in the spring evening and stroked softly, softly
our fear. All of us must have been asleep to have let so many lies
slip by like the hundreds of days between now and then, slip by
like this silence we have not yet learned to break.
*On the anniversary of the bombing on Baghdad, March 18, 2004
Terry Ehret
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Challenging Cupid
Ever since Saunia Powell commented something provocative on my Facebook site, I've been thinking about love. Not so strange, you say, on such a day as this. This being of course Valentines Day. I can get really self-righteous about American holidays. It's all the routine, liberal ranting right: boo hiss and bah humbug to the commodification, materializing and watering-down of love. It's all so sentimental and counter revolutionary. One can take up similar arguments on Thanksgiving and Christmas, especially if you've studied history even a smidgen. But back to love.
Who knows: maybe it's true. Maybe we do need one day for making a date, buying flowers and chocolate, dressing up and exchanging cards; maybe we do need an excuse to have extra-lovey-dovey sex or hard core humping (depending on your flavor). I certainly can't complain about an excuse to do arts and crafts with an emphasis on the color red. I'm making James a multi-dimensional, interactive heart with supplies I got from Michael's while listening to Portishead. Not too bad. Certainly the holiday brings a gratitude focus for those of us coupled with super-natural sweethearts like mine. So yes, in my case the romantic unit deserves a ritual and why not use this occasion to flare up the passion already in motion?
And...
One of the things that strikes me each year on this day is how much I love, how many I love and how creepy it feels to express love to anyone but my partner. Like, if you step outside the romantic love relation you're doing the holiday an injustice. So far the most loving thing I've experienced today was a phone conversation with Wade wherein he quoted from Judith Butler's "Precarious Life." Love of friendship. Love of kick-ass political and social commentary. Where are the holidays for those? Later I was at the gym, experiencing a rush of endorphins on the Elliptical and the prayer I'm supposed to deliver at Church tomorrow for Bea Morris came to me word for word. This isn't the first time I've experienced revelation at 24 Hour Fitness. Love of the bodies' response to movement. Love of being inspired. How can I send those things a bouquet of flowers and confess my undying devotion? Love of connecting with a Veteran/patient. Love of seeing my government embody principles of righteousness and responsibility for the first time in 8 years. The least I could do is compile a CD of love songs for these cats. Do you get my point? Of course you do...
It's not irrelevant to this conversation that in the English language we only have one word for "love" and other languages have several. Sometimes I wonder if we broadened our language and conceptions about this thing (that in all honesty defies words and cognition) if we'd find something new and life-giving. Or maybe, if in the pursuit of developing new words and thoughts, we might discover something that's been with us all along.
If you broke out of the Valentines Day focus on romantic love, what might you confess to adoring?
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
More on Oscar Grant
Hey everyone. This is a post I put up on the PSR website. You can read it here, or www.psr.edu (there). The question I responded to was: What is the appropriate role for a seminary or local church when an incident such as the recent slaying of Oscar Grant occurs?
Here it goes...
Social activists of the secular variety bring resources and commitments of their own to the streets. Religious activists and communities who enter this conversation from different places should locate themselves in the story of their particular tradition in order to interpret & respond to the murder of Oscar Grant through a hermeneutic of faith. Religion (when practiced at its best) offers public witnessing, story, symbol, confession, lament, dialogue, litany (like the one Ada Renee posted here), ritual, memorializing, memory & meaning making, contemplative practice, social support, moral frameworks and pastoral care. These are the things our professional roles afford us. They are gifts and should be used responsibly and wisely. We have a power invested in us as faith leaders—for better and worse—that cannot go unchecked. Whether we will it or not, persons in our communities see clergy as spokespersons and representatives for/of G-d. (Of course there are exceptions to this “rule” and people the world over who would rather not ever see a religious leader. However…) It means something for clergy to show up at protests, court-houses, crime-scenes, jail cells, etc. It means something(s) significant. Our showing up often signifies G-d’s care for the world. It initiates G-d’s touch upon the pains of (ruptured) human flesh and the grieving of families who now face a future without their lost loved one. Our professional presence, especially when we are dressed in religious garb, testifies to the relevance of our religion’s story to the on-going perpetration of violence on racialized/sexed/gendered/etc bodies. People need to see the clerical collar, see the stole, see the preaching preacher on the footsteps of city hall. It sends the message that we care about life, that G-d cares about life and if nothing else, we are willing to be with people in their suffering. With these things in mind, what about...
--Standing, marching, writing letters and crying out with the Oakland dissenting citizens and national protestors?
--Articulating publicly (in and out of pulpit) that the sanctity of life was mocked, dismissed and interrupted in the murder of Oscar Grant by Johannes Mehserle?
--Calling out and bringing attention to the tax-funded, institutionally implicating nature of this crime and to question retributive “justice”, “protection” and “freedom” that ideologically support the killing of civilians by armed “service” persons (past and present, domestic and abroad)?
--Contextualizing this current event by naming the history of police brutality in America in general and white-on-black violence/murder/lynching in particular?
--Again in light of this recent tragedy, looking at, learning from and confronting the social construction and lived realities of racialization(s) as they play out in individual lives, families, communities, neighborhoods, institutions, and “nations?”
-- Confessing the pained presence of G-d at Calvary and the pained presence of G-d on the BART platform on January 1st where Mr. Grant’s life was taken?
-- White people confessing the necessary conversion of our hearts still unrealized and highlighted by Mehserle & co’s actions?
--Holding up the tragedy that both Grant’s daughter and Mehserle’s daughter (among others close to the victim and perpetrator) will wrestle with for the rest of their lives?
There’s more. We have building space and educational programs to offer those mobilizing themselves for activism. We have experts (about legal issues and people’s rights for instance) sitting in our pews. We have access to technology and mass communication lists for coalition building. We have space for people to lament in song, prayer and silence. We have training in pastoral counseling to offer the bereaved. I could keep going for days, but I hope the reader gets my point. There’s so much faith communities (seminaries, local churches, denominations, etc) can do. Could we, even for a second, deny that Mr. Grant’s death and the social pain swirling through Oakland (and far far beyond) warrants these gifts/resources that we’ve earned and learned through the privilege of advanced theological education? I don’t think so.
Perhaps in response to Monica Joy’s question, it’s important to deeply search ourselves for the reasons we’re exuberantly ready and willing to employ and deploy these elements in response to some social catastrophes (like Prop 8 and the Immigration Criminalization efforts in 2006) and not so quick to use them in response to other crisis, in this case Johannes Mehserle’s murder of Oscar Grant. I suspect the answer to Monica Joy’s question will be different for each person willing enough to truly ask themselves or prod into their assumptions about what’s worthy of activist attention and what’s not. I for one, having made many mistakes both in ignorantly speaking about and not responding to issues of race, find the task of searching my own participation in racism extremely painful. And in putting my own self out for a second, I’ll admit I usually speak out of ignorance or stay silent when I should speak because I’m scared of getting “it” wrong or offending someone. It’s a people-pleasing thing, totally ego-based and it sucks. But what sucks worse is ducking out of the search & call process completely and thereby allowing the entire plague of white denial and disengagement to use me as a tool in this already hurting society. Regardless of the reasons for mistaken behavior, I point us back to Wade’s comment: “avoidance only leads to further frustration of justice.” As a religious leader, how can I call forth a racially-focused repentance from my flock/patients/colleagues, if I’m not willing to look at (hard, long, and faithfully), name, confess and ask forgiveness for my own racism? Avoiding the personal discomfort certainly blocks growth and reconciliation, but I also think there’s a danger in staying in the personal domain too long. The individual or inward search should not suffice as an appropriate response in total. Sometimes, at the heart of individual reform efforts, there’s a narcissism and myopia that forgets about the greater community. (Or as Jeffrey Kuan said to me last weekend “Sometimes all we do is talk.” Touche.)
Where is the social action? I’d like to see a PSR administrator of faculty person weigh in here. Certainly they have “invested power” of sorts that could be tapped in response to the killing of Mr. Grant. But I wonder if student mistrust of administration and faculty has so disenfranchised folks over the years that faculty and administration are reluctant to join us in activist conversations and activities. Or what about hearing from PSR alumns doing advocacy and local church ministry in the Bay Area--do you have something for us to hear/think about/pray over?
Here it goes...
Social activists of the secular variety bring resources and commitments of their own to the streets. Religious activists and communities who enter this conversation from different places should locate themselves in the story of their particular tradition in order to interpret & respond to the murder of Oscar Grant through a hermeneutic of faith. Religion (when practiced at its best) offers public witnessing, story, symbol, confession, lament, dialogue, litany (like the one Ada Renee posted here), ritual, memorializing, memory & meaning making, contemplative practice, social support, moral frameworks and pastoral care. These are the things our professional roles afford us. They are gifts and should be used responsibly and wisely. We have a power invested in us as faith leaders—for better and worse—that cannot go unchecked. Whether we will it or not, persons in our communities see clergy as spokespersons and representatives for/of G-d. (Of course there are exceptions to this “rule” and people the world over who would rather not ever see a religious leader. However…) It means something for clergy to show up at protests, court-houses, crime-scenes, jail cells, etc. It means something(s) significant. Our showing up often signifies G-d’s care for the world. It initiates G-d’s touch upon the pains of (ruptured) human flesh and the grieving of families who now face a future without their lost loved one. Our professional presence, especially when we are dressed in religious garb, testifies to the relevance of our religion’s story to the on-going perpetration of violence on racialized/sexed/gendered/etc bodies. People need to see the clerical collar, see the stole, see the preaching preacher on the footsteps of city hall. It sends the message that we care about life, that G-d cares about life and if nothing else, we are willing to be with people in their suffering. With these things in mind, what about...
--Standing, marching, writing letters and crying out with the Oakland dissenting citizens and national protestors?
--Articulating publicly (in and out of pulpit) that the sanctity of life was mocked, dismissed and interrupted in the murder of Oscar Grant by Johannes Mehserle?
--Calling out and bringing attention to the tax-funded, institutionally implicating nature of this crime and to question retributive “justice”, “protection” and “freedom” that ideologically support the killing of civilians by armed “service” persons (past and present, domestic and abroad)?
--Contextualizing this current event by naming the history of police brutality in America in general and white-on-black violence/murder/lynching in particular?
--Again in light of this recent tragedy, looking at, learning from and confronting the social construction and lived realities of racialization(s) as they play out in individual lives, families, communities, neighborhoods, institutions, and “nations?”
-- Confessing the pained presence of G-d at Calvary and the pained presence of G-d on the BART platform on January 1st where Mr. Grant’s life was taken?
-- White people confessing the necessary conversion of our hearts still unrealized and highlighted by Mehserle & co’s actions?
--Holding up the tragedy that both Grant’s daughter and Mehserle’s daughter (among others close to the victim and perpetrator) will wrestle with for the rest of their lives?
There’s more. We have building space and educational programs to offer those mobilizing themselves for activism. We have experts (about legal issues and people’s rights for instance) sitting in our pews. We have access to technology and mass communication lists for coalition building. We have space for people to lament in song, prayer and silence. We have training in pastoral counseling to offer the bereaved. I could keep going for days, but I hope the reader gets my point. There’s so much faith communities (seminaries, local churches, denominations, etc) can do. Could we, even for a second, deny that Mr. Grant’s death and the social pain swirling through Oakland (and far far beyond) warrants these gifts/resources that we’ve earned and learned through the privilege of advanced theological education? I don’t think so.
Perhaps in response to Monica Joy’s question, it’s important to deeply search ourselves for the reasons we’re exuberantly ready and willing to employ and deploy these elements in response to some social catastrophes (like Prop 8 and the Immigration Criminalization efforts in 2006) and not so quick to use them in response to other crisis, in this case Johannes Mehserle’s murder of Oscar Grant. I suspect the answer to Monica Joy’s question will be different for each person willing enough to truly ask themselves or prod into their assumptions about what’s worthy of activist attention and what’s not. I for one, having made many mistakes both in ignorantly speaking about and not responding to issues of race, find the task of searching my own participation in racism extremely painful. And in putting my own self out for a second, I’ll admit I usually speak out of ignorance or stay silent when I should speak because I’m scared of getting “it” wrong or offending someone. It’s a people-pleasing thing, totally ego-based and it sucks. But what sucks worse is ducking out of the search & call process completely and thereby allowing the entire plague of white denial and disengagement to use me as a tool in this already hurting society. Regardless of the reasons for mistaken behavior, I point us back to Wade’s comment: “avoidance only leads to further frustration of justice.” As a religious leader, how can I call forth a racially-focused repentance from my flock/patients/colleagues, if I’m not willing to look at (hard, long, and faithfully), name, confess and ask forgiveness for my own racism? Avoiding the personal discomfort certainly blocks growth and reconciliation, but I also think there’s a danger in staying in the personal domain too long. The individual or inward search should not suffice as an appropriate response in total. Sometimes, at the heart of individual reform efforts, there’s a narcissism and myopia that forgets about the greater community. (Or as Jeffrey Kuan said to me last weekend “Sometimes all we do is talk.” Touche.)
Where is the social action? I’d like to see a PSR administrator of faculty person weigh in here. Certainly they have “invested power” of sorts that could be tapped in response to the killing of Mr. Grant. But I wonder if student mistrust of administration and faculty has so disenfranchised folks over the years that faculty and administration are reluctant to join us in activist conversations and activities. Or what about hearing from PSR alumns doing advocacy and local church ministry in the Bay Area--do you have something for us to hear/think about/pray over?
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
How Strange to See the Dawn of Spring on the Third Day of February...
With each passing year
when seasonal change flaunts her forthcoming
I am more and more astounded by the shift.
Perhaps I was too busy believing in consistency
as a child to mark the differences ascribed in
"Day Light Savings Time." As an adult,
something apprehends this upcoming transformation with
joyous anticipation and soul-full anxiety--an anxiety
that knows death and little to nothing about life after it.
It's a bodily intuition that corresponds with
Jacaranda purple and Dogwood blossoms (or should I call them "miracles"?),
an epistemology so honest, sexy and lonely
at the same time
that I begin to question anything
that operates in a straight line.
when seasonal change flaunts her forthcoming
I am more and more astounded by the shift.
Perhaps I was too busy believing in consistency
as a child to mark the differences ascribed in
"Day Light Savings Time." As an adult,
something apprehends this upcoming transformation with
joyous anticipation and soul-full anxiety--an anxiety
that knows death and little to nothing about life after it.
It's a bodily intuition that corresponds with
Jacaranda purple and Dogwood blossoms (or should I call them "miracles"?),
an epistemology so honest, sexy and lonely
at the same time
that I begin to question anything
that operates in a straight line.
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