Friday, December 31, 2010

Friday Five: Year-End Edition

For the final Friday Five of the year, the revgals suggest listing 5 blessings of 2010 and 5 hopes/dreams for the new year.  This seemed like a good spiritual practice, since "blessings" is not the first thing that springs to mind when I think of this year.  This year was rough, and as I read through others' year-end blog posts and status updates, it seems "rough" describes many folks' 2010 journey.  May 2011 be a gentler road for us all.

Blessings:

1 -- Bearing witness to my cielo's continued growth as the most amazing human I have ever known.  Assuming all continues smoothly, she will be ordained in 2011, something I am already looking forward to.

2 -- Rediscovering an old love: opera.  Thanks to this broadcast, which blew my world open and reminded me that there is beauty in the world:



And in rediscovering opera, I discovered the global White Shirt contingent, which has provided much delight.  For an example, here.

3 -- Good friends and mentors who help me feel less lonely during the lonely stretches.

4 -- Goats and hermitages and a flying St. Francis.



5 -- Colleagues in the multi-stranded movement for justice, which only grows stronger.

Hopes/Dreams...and things I'm looking forward to:

1 -- Opera-related, there's the Capriccio HD broadcast in April, the Die Walkure HD broadcast in May, and the HOPE that the Met will release the above-mentioned Rosenkavalier on DVD, as they have done with other HD broadcasts.  Cuz then I'd feel like this:


2 -- I started the "One With the Collar" series (last one here, which has links to all of them) without realizing that it would be a series.  These poems have been helpful ways of thinking about my own experience as a minister, of wrestling with issues of privilege, authority, pain, injustice.  So I want to be more intentional about these reflections moving forward.

3 -- Continued deepening growth of the faith community I pastor.

4 -- Finally being delivered.  All right, maybe not "finally" as in that's the end of that, but finally in the sense of being brought out of whatever-the-hell-I'm-in right now and onto what is next, whatever that is.  Ironically, it's exhausting, even thought there is nothing I can do but be still and let God do Her work.

5 -- Time with my cielo, my friends, "my" hermitage, the goats...

Happy 2011, everyone!

Friday, December 17, 2010

Thought For The Day

“Christianity is being concerned about your fellow [human], not building a million-dollar church while people are starving right around the corner. Christ was a revolutionary person, out there where it was happening. That’s what God is all about, and that’s where I get my strength.”

- Fannie Lou Hamer

Saturday, December 11, 2010

The One With The Collar, Part 4

(If you're new around here, parts 1, 2, and 3)

(wrote this Monday, December 6th, with some edits/additions today)

this happened today:
met someone at stella's at four
for pastoral care.
we meet up on the sidewalk
and as we're going to the entrance,
i realize
there are two men sitting
at the picnic table there.
wearing army-green uniforms.
army? i think. then,
i see the patch on the shirt
of the guy facing me.
SWAT.
oh shit, i think. and their HQ
is not far away.
and i look up,
and meet eyes with him,
and he is one of the ones,
one of the ones
who beat up JT,
i saw him,
i heard him,
i heard her scream,
and i saw him in court,
more than once,
and i can't breathe,
and i start to shake.
we went in, and i couldn't speak,
so i went to sit down.
person i met brought me water,
then
while person got their coffee,
i texted my cielo and JT,
tried to remember how to breathe,
tried to ease my body back
into stillness.
thankfully person i met
totally understood. i only shared
a small bit of the story. and i was able
to get back to the present and be
pastoral and present and appropriate.

they don't cover this in seminary.

fuck.
3 years,
and i still react like this.
not just the seeing him,
but also the seeing him living
like, something appearing to be
a normal life,
having a coffee with his buddy
at the hip coffee shop.
of all the nerve.

from there,
flew home, put on the collar,
went to the vigil
at the detention center.
my body,
always hyper-aware anyway,
even moreso now, to see
as we pull up,
the cop in the intersection

lights flashing, then moves on
and parks a block away.
as if we can't see him.
the prayer we read claims
that hope overcomes despair,
and my head nods
but my body, still hurting
in those same places,
cries bullshit.
what the body knows.
as always, the GEO guards
circle in their big, white, truck
then park in the shadows
with the yellow lights on,
as if we can't see him.

and i shout, and i shout,
and i wonder why
when i am here
my voice feels like
it is rooted somewhere deeper
than my body,
like it could carry me over
an edge of unknown.

and all i can think is,
all i can pray is,
resistance.
resistance.
resistance.