I went to a climate change rally/protest in Washington DC on Sunday. I was kind of along for the ride, having managed to grow up in the 1960s and 70s without ever attending a rally, sit-in or protest of any kind.
Why would I talk about this during Lent? It wasn't a spiritual experience for me, but I think it was an act of social justice, sort of.
I wasn't arrested, and I didn't experience any kind of epiphany or anything like that. There were 45,000 or 50,000 people there, depending on whose estimate you believe. But either way, that's a lot of people. While there was visible anger and impatience at the government's failure to act on climate change and at those who deny it's happening, the people there were quite congenial to each other. At one point, one of the too-many speakers before the march said we should all hug each other. There were total strangers turning around and hugging each other. It reminded me of the sign of peace during Mass, when we turn to those around us in the pews and shake hands or hug, and say "Peace be with you" or "The peace of Christ" or just "peace."
But the social justice part? Well, there's a lot of talk about leaving our children too much debt, and certainly it seems reasonable to want to leave our children as debt-free a world as possible, but at the same time, why would we think it's OK to leave them a debt-free but dead planet? If we owe our children and grandchildren a fighting chance at a decent life, they need a place to live that life in and on. That place, at its most basic level, has to be the planet Earth.
So any effort to avoid leaving them a planet that's toxic, that won't support human life as we know it, that lacks blue skies, green grass, clean healthy water, and both air and a food supply that won't make them sick or give them cancer, is an effort to achieve social justice.
So I attended Saturday evening Mass and sacrificed my Sunday to advocate for a cleaner world.
Tuesday, February 19, 2013
Monday, February 18, 2013
The Fifth Day of Lent
Today I attended Kay Spruell's memorial service at Asbury UM Church. I was slightly late and sat in the very back pew. In front of me were the Little Sisters of Jesus and Mary, and several other people from my church. When the service was over, I saw more St. Francis de Sales people than strangers in the vestibule.
I wonder if Kay knew how loved she was by us Catholics--or by the Salisbury community in general? She was still one of us even though she'd left us for the Methodists. I couldn't stay for the reception, but I did turn over 28 scarves for Kay's HUGS program to Yolanda. And I had another email from a new source of scarves. I am picking up a bunch in the morning.
I don't know what I would be known for if I died right now. I don't know who would come to my funeral or who would miss me or care that I was gone (other than my family, who of course would care, and my co-workers, who would miss me because I wouldn't be there doing my work anymore). But I do know that my church family is very important to me.
I believe that we are what church is supposed to be, regardless of what problems the larger Catholic Church is experiencing. And I don't care that some people are complaining about the role of women in the church, although I know some are. But then, I am not chafing to become a priest or to wield power in the church hierarchy. I am content to do the things I do, the RCIA, the music, the other ministries. I am content to be a member of the church, to experience the parish and the relationships and the spirituality I see there.
I think we should rename the scarf program Kay's HUGS. She was so creative, so always concerned about everyone else, so alive and living in the present. I know she struggled with some things (who doesn't?) because we talked a few times, or at least talked around them. But whatever it was in her past that troubled her, I think she atoned for it.
I will miss her. I hope she is somehow aware of this from where she now lives. And I will not write about her anymore. I said goodbye to her today. I will do my part to keep her HUGS program going, and I will recall her with fondness, glad to have been her friend.
I wonder if Kay knew how loved she was by us Catholics--or by the Salisbury community in general? She was still one of us even though she'd left us for the Methodists. I couldn't stay for the reception, but I did turn over 28 scarves for Kay's HUGS program to Yolanda. And I had another email from a new source of scarves. I am picking up a bunch in the morning.
I don't know what I would be known for if I died right now. I don't know who would come to my funeral or who would miss me or care that I was gone (other than my family, who of course would care, and my co-workers, who would miss me because I wouldn't be there doing my work anymore). But I do know that my church family is very important to me.
I believe that we are what church is supposed to be, regardless of what problems the larger Catholic Church is experiencing. And I don't care that some people are complaining about the role of women in the church, although I know some are. But then, I am not chafing to become a priest or to wield power in the church hierarchy. I am content to do the things I do, the RCIA, the music, the other ministries. I am content to be a member of the church, to experience the parish and the relationships and the spirituality I see there.
I think we should rename the scarf program Kay's HUGS. She was so creative, so always concerned about everyone else, so alive and living in the present. I know she struggled with some things (who doesn't?) because we talked a few times, or at least talked around them. But whatever it was in her past that troubled her, I think she atoned for it.
I will miss her. I hope she is somehow aware of this from where she now lives. And I will not write about her anymore. I said goodbye to her today. I will do my part to keep her HUGS program going, and I will recall her with fondness, glad to have been her friend.
Sunday, February 17, 2013
The Fourth Day of Lent 2013
I have a memorial service to attend tomorrow, Monday, for a friend. She was very big into social justice here in our community. She started a program some years ago to get old bikes donated and refurbished, and she made them available to homeless men if they completed some set number of hours of community service. Those bikes can still be seen around town, and some got turned back in when the men didn't need them anymore, so someone else could benefit. She worked at homeless shelters and with crisis centers and various other things. That program, she called JOBS, or Just Old Bikes Swap.
I lost track of her when she left our church and first tried other Catholic parishes, eventually landing in the United Methodist Church. She had some health issues, and I was quite surprised to hear from her in early January. She told me she had been in the hospital for some time, but she was fine. She always said she was fine. She didn't want to be the center of attention. I went to see her at the hospital, and I'm so glad I did. She was in good spirits, and still trying to help others. She had gotten involved in a new program, a reaction to the December massacre at Sandy Hook Elementary School in Newtown, Conn. As a former teacher of young children, she was disturbed by that incident, as was the nation. She and another friend were making crocheted scarves for children whose parents went to the Joseph House Crisis Center for help. They have a big box of scarves in bright colors, and these children, who may haven ever had anything new given to them before, are invited to pick one out to take home. She called it HUGS, an acronym for Help Us Grow Safely. She dreamed of seeing children all over town wearing those scarves as a visible sign that we are a community that cares about its children. She just wanted me to pray about it, she said.
I did a little more than that. I started crocheting some scarves, and I wrote about it in a column I write sometimes. I got four other women making scarves as a result of that column, aloong with a colleague and her family.
She called me one more time, to tell me how happy she was with the column. And a few days later, I learned that she had died. Peacefully, I hope, at home.
I am taking between 30 and 40 scarves with me to the memorial service, to hand over to the other coordinator of the program. I wish she could see all the beautiful little scarves that people have made in response to her wonderful idea.
I think in a sense, it was always Lent for Kay, even after she left the Catholic Church. She was always trying to find new ways to help others, and she always deflected concern away from her and onto others.
I didn't know her as well as some of the people who will be at that service tomorrow afternoon, but I did know how special Kay was, and I feel the void.
I lost track of her when she left our church and first tried other Catholic parishes, eventually landing in the United Methodist Church. She had some health issues, and I was quite surprised to hear from her in early January. She told me she had been in the hospital for some time, but she was fine. She always said she was fine. She didn't want to be the center of attention. I went to see her at the hospital, and I'm so glad I did. She was in good spirits, and still trying to help others. She had gotten involved in a new program, a reaction to the December massacre at Sandy Hook Elementary School in Newtown, Conn. As a former teacher of young children, she was disturbed by that incident, as was the nation. She and another friend were making crocheted scarves for children whose parents went to the Joseph House Crisis Center for help. They have a big box of scarves in bright colors, and these children, who may haven ever had anything new given to them before, are invited to pick one out to take home. She called it HUGS, an acronym for Help Us Grow Safely. She dreamed of seeing children all over town wearing those scarves as a visible sign that we are a community that cares about its children. She just wanted me to pray about it, she said.
I did a little more than that. I started crocheting some scarves, and I wrote about it in a column I write sometimes. I got four other women making scarves as a result of that column, aloong with a colleague and her family.
She called me one more time, to tell me how happy she was with the column. And a few days later, I learned that she had died. Peacefully, I hope, at home.
I am taking between 30 and 40 scarves with me to the memorial service, to hand over to the other coordinator of the program. I wish she could see all the beautiful little scarves that people have made in response to her wonderful idea.
I think in a sense, it was always Lent for Kay, even after she left the Catholic Church. She was always trying to find new ways to help others, and she always deflected concern away from her and onto others.
I didn't know her as well as some of the people who will be at that service tomorrow afternoon, but I did know how special Kay was, and I feel the void.
Thursday, February 14, 2013
The First Day of Lent 2013
I have not read from The Dust of Rabbi Jesus yet, and am unlikely to do so until after Feb. 24, because of book club, so I will have to wing it for a bit.
I did not write on the evening of Ash Wednesday because I went to see the movie Lincoln and didn't get home until 12:30 a.m.
Perhaps it would be appropriate to begin this journey by contemplating the reason for the season.
Why would anyone find pleasure in a season that requires us to deprive ourselves of things we want or need or enjoy? Stripping bare dredges up images of starkness, like the chill of autumn nights when the bare trees are silhoutted against a full moon and it's easy to imagine all manner of scary things lurking around you, unseen.
Well, yes. And what might those things be? Demons? Possibly.
What demons plague you? Greed? Malice? Selfishness? A desire for power or wealth? Insecurity? Pride? Sloth? Envy? Those are some of the demons that we try to remove from our lives through our Lenten practices of prayer, fasting and almsgiving.
Before you can exorcize any demons, you have to figure out which ones are eating away at you. This requires reflection and frankly, honesty. And it often requires the same kind of stripping bare that we see in church during Lent, cutting to the chase, setting aside some of the complication and baggage that we carry with us through life. Like removing the masks, the makeup and accessories that make us look attractive and seeking a deeper connection.
But where is the pleasure? Perhaps it comes from liberating myself from things that enslave me. Or maybe it's because when you bring those unseen horrors into the light of day, they don't seem as scary anymore. When you take them apart and figure out what makes them tick, they are no longer terrifying.
And so it begins. I distributed ashes at Mass on the morning of Ash Wednesday. And I was overcome at one point by a sense of connections, of community, how we were all gathered there seeking the same thing, such a commonality we shared. And also the sense of stepping off a cliff into Lent, ready or not.
And so, here we go. May your Lenten journey be fruitful and help you along your journey toward your celebration of the Paschal mysteries at Easter.
I did not write on the evening of Ash Wednesday because I went to see the movie Lincoln and didn't get home until 12:30 a.m.
Perhaps it would be appropriate to begin this journey by contemplating the reason for the season.
Why would anyone find pleasure in a season that requires us to deprive ourselves of things we want or need or enjoy? Stripping bare dredges up images of starkness, like the chill of autumn nights when the bare trees are silhoutted against a full moon and it's easy to imagine all manner of scary things lurking around you, unseen.
Well, yes. And what might those things be? Demons? Possibly.
What demons plague you? Greed? Malice? Selfishness? A desire for power or wealth? Insecurity? Pride? Sloth? Envy? Those are some of the demons that we try to remove from our lives through our Lenten practices of prayer, fasting and almsgiving.
Before you can exorcize any demons, you have to figure out which ones are eating away at you. This requires reflection and frankly, honesty. And it often requires the same kind of stripping bare that we see in church during Lent, cutting to the chase, setting aside some of the complication and baggage that we carry with us through life. Like removing the masks, the makeup and accessories that make us look attractive and seeking a deeper connection.
But where is the pleasure? Perhaps it comes from liberating myself from things that enslave me. Or maybe it's because when you bring those unseen horrors into the light of day, they don't seem as scary anymore. When you take them apart and figure out what makes them tick, they are no longer terrifying.
And so it begins. I distributed ashes at Mass on the morning of Ash Wednesday. And I was overcome at one point by a sense of connections, of community, how we were all gathered there seeking the same thing, such a commonality we shared. And also the sense of stepping off a cliff into Lent, ready or not.
And so, here we go. May your Lenten journey be fruitful and help you along your journey toward your celebration of the Paschal mysteries at Easter.
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