2013.03.24 Empathy Week

Most Christians call the week we are entering, Holy Week. I call it Empathy week. It’s a week we re-enact the skein of tragically inevitable events in the life of Jesus Christ, events that led him to trial and then to execution on the cross, events human history never forgot and divine grace forgave. 

Christians are not re-enactors, like the groups that re-enact Civil War battles and the like. Our liturgies are not pageantry for its own sake, or to memorialize for history’s sake. Christians, if we allow ourselves to be real, if we dare to feel what Jesus might have felt, ought to be heartbroken.

Do we dare to be empathic with the sorrow, the cruelty, the betrayal, the treasonous politics, and rigged proceedings? It takes courage to feel empathy. Can we put our hearts where our mouths are?  All those bloated hosannas ring hollow without heart-truth.   

I’m reading Sonia Sotomayor’s memoir, My Beloved World.  Her life discoveries are interwoven into her story in a seamless way.  Here is one such insight: “I was fifteen years old when I understood how it is that things break down: people can’t imagine someone else’s point of view.” 

At the time when Sotomayor, was “on trial” herself to prove herself worthy of being a Supreme Court Justice. She said that one of the values she thought important for a good justice to hold was empathy.  Many people jumped all over that word and mocked it as absurd, not part of justice at all in fact.  Do you remember the hullabaloo? 

At the time I thought all the flap had something to do with Sotomayor’s being a Latina and a woman. Probably it did.  However, at a deeper level, the reaction had to do with an incomplete and narrow understanding about what true justice is.  

“I was fifteen years old when I understood how it is that things break down: people can’t imagine someone else’s point of view.”

Without empathy, things (like love, justice, peace, truth, faith) break down. Simply so.

Sonia Sotomayor has served as Associate Justice on the United States Supreme Court since 2009.

Jesus Christ, as far as I know, is still feeding hungry souls.


 

2013.03.20 Tweet. Tweet?

There is lots of pressure these days to use Social Media, especially if you hope to publish.  Get yourself, your brand, your fabulous wonderful YOU out there—VIRAL NOW!

Or perish?  My hashtag might be—no idea, send me one. But I’ve been practicing in case I decide to get on Twitter. Here are some sample tweets.

The most forward thinking thing the RC church has done in 2000 years.  What will they think of next, ordaining women? A friend’s comment on pope’s decision to tweet. Hashtag is pontifex! 

Godde has no way to us but through us.

There’s no such thing as disincarnate love.

Your writing is spiritual when it dwells in the depth dimension where all hell breaks loose and all heaven breaks through.

If Godde is love, then love must be God.

If we were dinosaurs, aka olding, then I want to be the  little hoppity one who turns quickly into a bird and soars off into the wild blue yonder.

I can put faith and trust in the ultimate and ideal Christ and the historical human Jesus at the same time.

Rebbitzen, tog mir a toyveh, fahrlr mein ahdres.   Yiddish for: Lady, do me a favor, lose my address.  We should make one for a woman to say to a man, no? 

2013.03.17 Stormy Weather?

It’s amusing to watch the weather people this winter here in New England.  They usually don’t get much air time, but with all these storms they are front and center in our living rooms.  Weather newscasters shout the latest disaster and its terrific drama almost ecstatically. They dance close to roiling waters, mikes in hand, while nearly being soaked by a blast of sea, or blown over by a fresh strong gust of snow-wind. 

The weather is Cecil B. DeMille calibre.

But I’m tired of everything, from the latest economic news to D.C. political plots, being cast as a disaster, a catastrophe, a crisis. The “weather”of this culture is like the weather outside, so hyper it could blow us away.

Does everything have to be an opera in rehearsal? It’s hard to slow down, hard not to snap at people I love, hard to concentrate on what really matters when everything seems to demand attention—hard to love.

I even suffered the base theological temptation of wondering if God, through the weather, was getting even with us for being scornful and forgetting Divinity. We, as well as God, can get lost in the swift currents of a world in a panicky race. Many religious folks worry —silently or aloud—that God destroys as well as creates. But Godde has nothing to do with the weather. Nature’s will is as free as ours. And Love does not destroy.

Still, I’m tired of adrenaline rushes. My soul is ready for some peace. If it snows or blows or implodes I want to hear the news in a clear, calm way that gives the facts, advisories, and predictions.

There is a difference between an apocalypticist (the end is near and it isn't pretty, so get afraid now) and an eschatologist (we don't know how, or if, the world will end, so we live each day in hope).

Then a gift came my way.  It is a storm photo, but it’s not stormy. The bird mid-flight looks more like the Spirit to me than the “almighty” weather. She is free, lithe, peaceful, and true, in all weathers. Not dramatic, but so powerful—sort of like the white smoke over the Vatican, symbol of hope-in-flight.  We'll see.   Thank you.

2013.03.13 My First White-Smoke-Over-the-Vatican Viewing

The sheer volume and power of bold and bald hope that was evidenced today in St. Peter’s Square in Rome is a statement in itself.  Thousands of people gathered to await the announcement of the election of the next leader of the largest religion in the world.

Who knows the future?—but history was made today in this election. The man the cardinals elected as the next Pope is Jorge Mario Bergoglio from Argentina.

He is very conservative about most church practices, theology, and morality.
                                                  AND
He has chosen, for the very first time in papal history, the name of Francis.  He will be Francis the First!  I was hoping for Peter, but so far no one has had the courage to choose that name. St. Francis is one of the most beloved of church saints, known for his humility and his attentiveness to the needs of the poor, not just materially, but those who have been neglected and marginalized in church and society—those in fact who have suffered rejection like Jesus did.  Francis is also  known for his affection for all nature and all critters whom he called Sister and Brother. He’s the saint whose statue you often see in a garden next to the birdbath scattering food for the birds. 
     And there’s another Francis represented as well: Francis Xavier, the co-founder of the Jesuit Order: the Society of Jesus.  
                                                   AND
He is a Jesuit, another first.  That will be controversial, and also says much about this man’s intellectual grounding and his love for Jesus Christ. 
                                                   AND
He is a Latino, representing an area of the world in which the Roman Catholic population is strong and growing. Politics is in everything, but American Latinos/Latinas will feel proud and represented.

There were clear signs today of this new Pope’s humility:
He chose to wear his own simple cross, not one of the Vatican  bejeweled papal crosses.
He asked for silence from an enormous crowd—and got it.  In the silence he bowed to receive the prayers and blessings of the people upon him— BEFORE he gave them a papal blessing.  A first!
He spoke in Italian, except when Latin was required, and in a colloquial tone, calling people his brothers and sisters, and telling them he’d “see them soon”  and to “have a good evening.”
When he was a Cardinal in his native land, he walked among the people and took public transportation or a cab.
Francis has a winning smile and a clear-eyed gaze. I do believe that this man, while conservative in many ways will LISTEN and encourage dialogue about women in the ordained ministry, homosexuality, gay marriage and adoption of children, and many other issues people are clamoring about.

I doubt that he would give much priority about my soap box issue: theological language (pronouns again!)  but who knows?  But I bet he would listen to me.

So, as always, we wait and see, pray and hope— and stay open.

2013.03.10 Women of Guts and Glory

In honor of International Women’s Day, which was actually March 8, and my oldest granddaughter’s 17th birthday, which is today,  I honor all girls and women for their steadiness in a world that has not always noticed their presence. 

Oh Godde, you are not a man nor a woman, rather fully feminine and fully masculine (and everything in between) in the energy of your one holy life in which all creation has life, breath and being: Keep humanity one-in-you, and keep us holy-in-you; and please don’t let our mortal divisiveness hide from us the light of the love that is immortal. Big fat spirit-filled smooches from us all. AMEN.

Happy Birthday, beloved Gillian. You begin your 18th year today. Find out who you are and what matters to you. Stay faithful to yourself, for, in doing so, you will be faithful to Godde.

May I also recommend to you who read this blog a weekly series on Presidential Wives, ladies of power, wit and wisdom. It’s on Monday nights from 9-10:30 on CSpan. Very engaging—good story, good history.  

I confess I never remember exactly the list of male presidents, however, for, some quirky little reason, I now am ready to know who these men were— through their women.  That is good, because we're used to knowing the women through the men, not the reverse. The wives who loved them, and were beloved by them. Partners in marriage and politics, from Martha Washington onward.  

My mother was a strong though scared woman, but when she came through she’d hit it right on.  She told me once when I was whining about the fact that I might never develop boobs( and therefore get a boy) : “Lynnie, you come from a long line of boobs. You’ll get them!” She gave me guts.

So there you have it.  Honor the women in your life. And honor the men who have through history honored the women in their lives.

2013.03.06 A Red Shoe Rant

I’m so glad the retiring pope is leaving his red shoes behind.  I wonder if he knows that it used to be considered a scandal, or at least the sign of a “loose” woman afoot, when a woman wore red shoes—anywhere but most particularly in church?  

I still have the little red party shoes I adored as a young child. They are dirty and have lost all their luster, but they sit at the foot of my home altar—not for me to worship but for me to remember my spunk, and the God who gave it to me. I have adult red shoes, too, and have worn them to church.

The papal red shoes are supposed to symbolize the blood of the martyrs. It’s a nice gesture to stand in “pools of blood” once shed by people who would not deny their devotion and faith in Jesus Christ, or was it their faith in Christianity itself, or something else?  I think their hearts were true and the culture of the day supported such sacrifice, but I think it’s time the Vatican itself sacrificed LOTS of its excessive wealth and power, perhaps some of the accumulated papal wardrobe and regalia— red shoes and all.  Ya know, all this Pope as almighty demi-deity isn’t that old— wasn’t part of the original plan.  

Time to Occupy Vatican City.

My protest isn’t just about wealth and power, it’s about theology, ideas and words about God and religious practices that amount, in my book, to God-abuse—advertising a God whose immortal love gets hidden from us by the sins of the Church. I mean ALL Christian churches, not just the Catholic one because it’s the biggest, richest, and loudest. 

I reject the theology that says Jesus Christ died for my sins, or anyone’s. He didn’t die, he was
    killed!
I reject the theology that ordains the votes of men-only as the will of God.
I reject the theology that insists that God has a plan and a candidate in mind. Guys! Just pray     and vote, but for Christ’s sake don’t politik or lobby. Can a nun self-nominate?
I reject the theology and the language that consistently names Divinity as He, Him, His,     Himself—a sinful way to imprison Divinity in masculinity.
 I reject a church that protects men who abuse, and other men who cover up.
 I reject a church that will not ordain women to celebrate the Holy Eucharist. Either include     women in priestly ministry, or stop ordaining men.

I suggest all women wear red shoes to church—if you still go to church. Click those heels together three time fast, and PRESTO! all the non-avian cardinals will vanish. Look for them in Kansas—or not. 

2013.03.03 Meet Maud

Girls at eight are often at their most engaging, creative, uninhibited best.  Eight is great!

One such girl, the niece of a good friend, regaled her family with her own personal theology.  It went something like this: “God is Maud. Did you know that?  Yes, God’s name is Maud.”

Curious adults wanted to hear more, so the child continued with her theology, quite obvious to her: “Well, when I take a bath or a shower, I wouldn’t want some man-God watching me, would I?”

Would you?

So much for the omni-present, omni-masculine deity. Bring me Maud. And seriously, as far as I’m concerned, most of our highfalutin ideas about Divinity could be eliminated in favor of Love.

Take omniscience, for example: would a loving Godde not respect everyone’s need for privacy, even secrecy at times, especially teen-agerish times? Some argue that God is all-knowing, but waits (cunningly?) for us to reveal, knowing we will. I doubt that very much.

As to omnipotence, it’s quite obviously errant, unless divine power is only that of Love with no conditions.

Omnipresence might work, but only if that means that Godde is available and accessible from within—something like, give us this day our daily strength. 

How about All-Seeing? Perhaps Godde is a futurist, massaging souls gently, lovingly, and slowly forward into new and mysterious experiences that enlighten, and awaken, and refresh. Like the unexpected (and wise) resignation of the present Pope? Who knew?  There may be pink smoke over the Vatican yet. 

All kinds of holes can be punched in my ideas. They’re just offerings to query by. It’s really not about who God is, but how God is experienced. And there’s more commonality in such experiences than most would imagine.

Recently, a friend and sister Godde-buff and I had to agree, after batting around different images, needs, words,  and concepts about God, that we both were talking about the same thing, basically a Mystery we knew nothing—and everything—about.  A Mystery for  whom we both long and linger over lunch about.

Meet Maud.