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Do the Next Thing

Jul 2, 2018 | Hope & Encouragement, Sacred Stories, Sovereignty

I don’t know about you, but when I read or hear the stories of amazing women (which is ALL the time), I have the tendency to compare myself to them. And that never goes well.

I convince myself that I will not be one about whom amazing stories are told. Because I’m not her. I’m just me.

Every bit of this is totally wrong.

Here’s a story to prove my point:

Queen Esther. Ostensibly sex-trafficked as a young girl, she is corralled into the king’s palace, lives with the eunuchs, and is then trained for a full year to be able and ready to please the king (sexually, of course) if called. She lives as a potential consort right alongside all the other girls of her town and every surrounding town, right alongside all the king’s previous and current wives. And under the dark cloud of awareness that the last queen, who dared to say “no” to this same king, was deposed and discarded.

In the midst of all this, she becomes the chosen one, is named the king’s favorite, is heralded as Queen, and then uncovers a massive plot to destroy her entire people – the Jews. She manages to merit the king’s favor, trick the villain (not the king), usurp his wicked plans, and save thousands of people from genocide. And now, thousands of years later, she is still honored, her amazing story still told, still celebrated through the Feast of Purim, a festival within the Jewish tradition that honors the redemption she ushered into the world.

Who am I to think that my story could possibly be anything like hers?

And in truth, isn’t it just pouring salt on a wound to hear it in the first place and then be left feeling like there is SO MUCH to live up to? It’s impossible. I don’t begin to compare. Why bother even trying?

Again, every bit of this is totally wrong.

Here’s why.

Esther lived her life one day at a time. She faced the (often horrific) circumstances of her life in the best way she could in the moment. She took in distressing news and then acted as best she knew how in the moment. She risked but not always. She spoke up but not always. She stepped forward but not always. And when all was said and done – over years of time (not days, as the story so often sounds) – she became legend.

She could not possibly have seen the huge and sweeping plot that was taking place around her. She could not have seen the bigger narrative of which her seemingly-small life was a part. And she could not have seen how significant her life and story truly were.

Take heart, dear one; the same is true for you (and me).

Here is all that’s required:

  • Do the next thing.
  • Face your circumstances in the best way you can in the moment.
  • Take in distressing and dangerous news, then act in the moment.
  • Risk and speak up and step forward as often as you can, even if not always.

And consider this:

Maybe, definitely, it is best that you can’t see just how and important and significant your life truly is.

Just like Queen Esther. (Yes, you: just like her. Amazing!)

The most famous and well-known portion of her story is what her uncle Mordecai says when she expresses her fear: 

Don’t think for a moment that because you’re in the palace you will escape when all other Jews are killed. If you keep quiet at a time like this, deliverance and relief for the Jews will arise from some other place, but you and your relatives will die. Who knows if perhaps you were made queen for just such a time as this?

Yes, hugely significant and dramatic. I’ll give you (and her) that. But here is what matters:

“For such a time as this” meant (and still means) one moment at a time, one conversation at a time, one choice at a time, one risk at a time, one day at a time.

Nothing more. And certainly nothing less.

Yes, be the queen. I’m all about that. Kick ass and take names and speak up and be bold. And know that the things that seem minor and insignificant and seemingly just the opposite of the amazing stories you read and hear are the stuff of “for such a time as this,” are the stuff of legend. Paying the bills and having yet another conversation with your kids and telling your spouse or lover how you really feel and not pouring another glass of wine and not allowing fear to distract you from the writing that calls, or telling the truth, and all of the above and then some.

These are the details of your life – which matters, which makes a difference, and, when all is said and done, is legendary.

Because you are. You just don’t know it yet.

May it be so.

Not seeing the forest for the trees (yet)

Jul 5, 2016 | Sacred Stories, Women's Voice & Power

I don’t know about you, but when I read or hear the stories of amazing women (which is ALL the time), I have the tendency to compare myself to them. And that never goes well.

I convince myself that I will not be one about whom amazing stories are told. Because I’m not her. I’m just me.

And every bit of this is totally wrong.

Here’s a story to prove my point:

Queen Esther. Ostensibly sex-trafficked as a young girl, she is corralled into the king’s palace, lives with the eunuchs, and is then trained for a full year to be able and ready to please the king (sexually, of course) if called. She lives as a potential consort right alongside all the other girls of her town and every surrounding town, right alongside all the king’s previous and current wives. And all under the dark cloud of awareness that the last queen, who dared to say “no” to this same king, was deposed and discarded. In the midst of all this, she becomes the chosen one, is named the king’s favorite, is heralded as Queen, and then uncovers a massive plot to destroy her entire people – the Jews. She manages to merit the king’s favor, trick the villain (who was not the king himself), usurp his wicked plans, and save thousands of people from genocide. And now, thousands of years later, she is still honored, her amazing story still told, still celebrated through the Feast of Purim, a festival within the Jewish tradition that honors the redemption she ushered into the world.

Who am I to think that my story could possibly be anything like hers?

And in truth, isn’t it just pouring salt on a wound to hear it in the first place and then be left feeling like there is SO MUCH to live up to? It’s impossible. I don’t begin to compare. Why bother even trying?

Again, every bit of this is totally wrong.

Here’s why.

Esther lived her life one day at a time. She faced the (often horrific) circumstances of her life in the best way she could in the moment. She took in distressing news and then acted as best she knew how in the moment.

She risked but not always. She spoke up but not always. She stepped forward but not always.

And when all was said and done – over years of time (not days, as the story so often sounds) – she became legend.

She could not possibly have seen the forest for the trees. She could not have seen the huge and sweeping plot that was taking place around her. She could not have seen the bigger narrative of which her seemingly-small life was a part. And she could not have seen how significant her life and story truly were.

Take heart, dear one; the same is true for you (and me).

Here is all that’s required:

  • Do the next thing.
  • Face your circumstances in the best way you can in the moment.
  • Take in distressing and dangerous news, then act in the moment.
  • Risk and speak up and step forward as often as you can, even if not always.

And consider this:

Maybe, definitely, it is best that you can’t see just how and important and significant your life truly is.

Just like Queen Esther. (Yes, you: just like her. Amazing!)

The most famous and well-known portion of her story is what her uncle Mordecai says
when she expresses her fear:

Don’t think for a moment that because you’re in the palace you will escape when all other Jews are killed. If you keep quiet at a time like this, deliverance and relief for the Jews will arise from some other place, but you and your relatives will die. Who knows if perhaps you were made queen for just such a time as this?

Yes, hugely significant and dramatic. I’ll give you (and her) that. But here is what matters:

“For such a time as this” meant (and still means) one moment at a time, one conversation at a time, one choice at a time, one risk at a time, one day at a time. Nothing more. And certainly nothing less.

Yes, be the queen. I’m all about that. Kick ass and take names and speak up and be bold. And know that the things that seem minor and insignificant and seemingly just the opposite of the amazing stories you read and hear are the stuff of “for such a time as this,” are the stuff of legend.

Paying the bills and having yet another conversation with your kids and telling your spouse or lover how you really feel and not pouring another glass of wine and not allowing fear to distract you from the writing that calls, or telling the truth, and all of the above and then some.

These are the details of your life – which matter, which make a difference, and, when all is said and done, are legendary. Because you are. You just don’t know it yet.

May it be so.

Standing Ground & Donning Crown

Mar 24, 2014 | Sacred Stories, Sovereignty, Women's Voice & Power

Yes, standing your ground and donning your crown. Or…maybe choosing to remove it altogether!

Once upon a time – or maybe it was just last year – or maybe it is yet to be – there was a beautiful queen. She had power. A full staff served her. Ladies in waiting surrounded. Everything she desired and then some was at her beck and call.

As the story goes, her husband, King Xerxes, was in the midst of a 6-month party. ” For a full 180 days he displayed the vast wealth of his kingdom and the splendor and glory of his majesty.” When those days came to an end, he threw a banquet that lasted another seven days. All the people from the least to the greatest within his kingdom were there. Wine was served in goblets of gold; the king had instructed his wine stewards to serve each man whatever he wished.

Simultaneous to all this, Queen Vashti, was giving a banquet for the women; those who accompanied and served the men.

On the seventh day, when King Xerxes was in “high spirits” from wine, he commanded the seven eunuchs who served him to bring Queen Vashti into his presence – wearing her royal crown – so that he could display her beauty to the people and nobles, “for she was lovely to look at.”

When Queen Vashti received the king’s command, right there, in front of all the women who surrounded her, she refused.

As might be expected, the king was furious. He consulted with his experts: “According to the law, what must be done to Queen Vashti?” he asked.  “She has not obeyed the command of King Xerxes…” One of his advisors replied, “Queen Vashti has done wrong, not only against the king but also against all the nobles and the peoples of all the provinces of King Xerxes. For the queen’s conduct will become known to all the women, and so they will despise their husbands and potentially follow her lead… There will be no end of disrespect and discord. Therefore, if it pleases the king, let him issue a royal decree, written in the laws of Persia and Media, which cannot be repealed, that Vashti is never again to enter the presence of King Xerxes. Also let the king give her royal position to someone else who is better than she. Then when the king’s edict is proclaimed throughout all his vast realm, all the women will respect their husbands, from the least to the greatest.”

The king and his nobles were pleased with this advice, so the edict was proclaimed. Dispatches were sent to all parts of the kingdom, to each province in its own script and to each people in their own language, proclaiming that every man should be ruler over his own household, using his native tongue.

And Queen Vashti was removed from her throne, from her rule, from her position of privilege and power.

But that was hardly the end of her story…

*****

If you’ve heard this story before it might have been by way of warning: don’t refute the will of the king, men in leadership, and certainly that of your husband. I don’t presume you ascribe to this kind of blind obedience, but that doesn’t mean the residual isn’t still in the water.

In Eastern cultures, it’s a given and in many religious contexts even in the Western world, the same holds true. The message is clear: Do what you’re asked and told, or you too, will be deposed and sent packing.

To be fair, other tellings of Vashti’s story have allowed her rightful and appropriate compassion. Her husband was clearly drunk – as were all of his council. She was asked to parade before a veritable orgy; to show herself as an object-on-display.

Stunningly, it was her awareness of her own objectification that caused her to say “no.” And hardly in private memo back to the king. She willingly and boldly, even defiantly, became an object lesson on behalf of all the women who had surrounded her those past seven days; all the women who would later and undoubtedly hear her story. And though a law was passed to teach her a lesson (and any woman who might take the craziest notion to follow her lead), no woman would ever forget her: such raw courage and beauty displayed.

We would do well to remember her, as well.

*****

Imagine that Queen Vashti is sitting in your living room. A cup of coffee or tea, or maybe wine (though not in gold goblets) is poured. She sits as regally as ever. You can viscerally sense the deep, timeless wisdom present in the room; embodied within her and swirling around you.

What does she say regarding your current circumstances, the place in which you find yourself, the decisions you are being asked to make, the compromises that loom?

Given her willingness to be deposed on behalf of honoring herself, her value, her worth, what risks does she call you to take?

Hear the voice of this queen. Pay attention to the actions of this queen. Recognize and honor the heart of this queen. The more you do, the more you will realize that this voice, these actions, and this heart are yours, within you, part of you, accessible to call on, rely on, and trust.

In other words, this Queen’s blood runs in yours. Vashti’s voice speaks into your deep, timeless wisdom, calling forth the truth you already know, the choices you’re required to make, the story you are destined to live.

Vashti beckons you to step into your rightful role and stand your ground. And though this may feel daunting, you are not alone. She remains with you – ever present, powerful, brave – and offers you beyond-imagining courage to claim all that you deserve. For you are her daughter, her lineage, her kin.

*****

A Postscript:

Subsequent to Queen Vashti’s banishment, the search began for a new Queen. Esther was chosen: a young woman who ultimately saved an entire nation. Unknowingly, but no less significantly, it was Vashti’s courage that enabled Esther’s. (That tale upcoming in the next few weeks…)

Likewise, you can be certain that your story is not told or lived in isolation. When you step into your royal identity and stand your ground, you enable other women’s stories, as-yet unknown, to take the stage, step into the light, and become realized in profound, powerful, and legendary ways.

Truth-be-told, Vashti’s story is what enables yours. She stood on the shoulders of the women who came before her. And you stand on those that have preceded and followed. Generations of women who, in their own unique and particular ways, have engendered and enabled your strength, your story. This is the heritage of which you are a part; the bloodline that cannot be ignored; the crown that is yours to don – or maybe even remove; a legacy of which you are a part and one that is yours to continue – just by being you and standing your ground for the story you deserve to tell and live.

When you do, Queen Vashti smiles – her every consequence worth it all.

May it be so.

And I Roar!

Jan 28, 2013 | My sort-of Sermons, Women's Voice & Power

Commemorating the 40th anniversary of Roe v. Wade

In this moment, one’s feelings about, or position on abortion are not what matter. What does matter, a lot, is that a woman’s right to manage her own body is still, or ever has been, at question. How is it possible that this topic is even entertained in politics, religion, or cultural critique of any kind? How is it possible that anyone is still talking arguing about this? Why is this legitimate tenet given enough media coverage to continue being discussed and proselytized?

It’s an old, sad story…

The Old Testament tells of Esther; a young girl who was captured and then taken to be part of the King’s harem. She was prepped and readied for a year before being eligible to be “chosen” by him then risked life and limb to protect her people from a route of ethnic cleansing by the king’s power-hungry, right-hand man. It is from this text that we hear the well-known words spoken by Esther’s cousin, Mordecai:

“Do not think that because you are in the king’s house you alone of all the Jews will escape. For if you remain silent at this time, relief and deliverance for the Jews will arise from another place, but you and your father’s family will perish. And who knows but that you have been made queen for such a time as this?” (Esther 4:12-14)

Esther’s is a powerful narrative worth knowing, (re)telling, and redeeming; words themselves that impact and transform when internalized and allowed to inspire. And (as is always the case) her story rests on the shoulders of another’s: Queen Vashti.

The prequel…

The King had been celebrating (translate: drinking) for days. A huge party that included all the dignitaries and military leaders under hisreign. On day 7 of this endless revelry, he remembered his wife, Queen Vashti, and called for her to join him.

“…he commanded the seven eunuchs who served him to bring before him Queen Vashti, wearing her royal crown, in order to display her beauty to the people and nobles, for she was lovely to look at. But when the attendants delivered the king’s command, Queen Vashti refused to come. Then the king became furious and burned with anger.” (Esther 1:10-11)

Her “no” unleashed a chain of events that culminated in losing her throne and being deposed. And this led to the region-wide search for all eligible young girls, including Esther. These realities, in and of themselves, are upsetting, but it’s the reasoning diatribe that ensued about why Vashti had to go that causes me to hyperventilate almost every time I read it:

One of the nobles present said, “. . . the queen’s conduct will become known to all the women, and so they will despise their husbands . . . There will be no end of disrespect and discord.” (Esther 1:16-18)

My response . . . 

I’m taking deep breaths.

(Parenthetically, let me calmly state that this is exactly what has happened for centuries upon centuries. Women’s lack of rights, silencing, less-pay-for-equal-work, and an exhausting list of atrocities borne throughout time has, in large part, been motivated by the same reality that motivated King Xerxes: fear. Fear of a woman’s strength. Fear of a woman’s power. Fear of a woman’s “no.” Even fear of a woman’s “yes.”)

Enough of the deep breaths. Enough of the calm. I feel the emotion build – way, down deep within. I roll my shoulders back. I stand up even taller . . . 

And I roar . . . 

on behalf of Queen Vashti-deposed and Esther-turned-concubine-and-queen. On behalf of Eve and Noah’s wife and Sarai and the woman who anointed Jesus’ feet with her tears and the hundreds and hundreds of ancient, sacred narratives of women waiting to be heard, understood, and honored. On behalf of the countless named and unnamed women before Roe v. Wade and after. On behalf of you. On behalf of me. On behalf of my daughters. On behalf of our daughters. And on behalf of our sons, our husbands, our fathers, our lovers, our friends.

And I roar . . . 

until the day when it never occurs to me to write this post. Until the day when the sacrifices of so many are a distant, but esteemed memory. Until the day when terms and concepts like feminism and record number of women in Congress and sexual trafficking and rape and domestic violence are no longer in our lexicon or shared consciousness – other than to proclaim, again and again, the stories of those who suffered so we don’t have to.

And I roar . . . 

to praise the enduring strength and power of women. No matter the obstacles, the harm, the silence, the struggle. This is the nature of women. This is the capacity of women. This is what we do. Not as martyrs; rather as necessary and willing fighters, advocates, lovers, fierce friends, champions of truth and justice and all-things-good-and-right.

And I roar . . .

in the belief that despite how heavy our hearts and sore our throats, we do and will have the strength to continue, to keep hoping, to keep believing, to keep our desires for healing and change alive . . . 

. . . for such a time as this.

Lucky are you, reader, if you happen not to be of that sex to whom it is forbidden all good things; to whom liberty is denied; to whom almost all virtues are denied; lucky are you if you are one of those who can be wise without its being a crime. ~ Marie le Jars de Gournay, from “Grief des Dames” (1626) as quoted by Elise Boulding in The Underside of History.

We are lucky. And with such privilege comes responsibility – and a roar that has the potential and passion to shake both earth and heaven.

So go ahead and roar – on behalf of women’s stories, your stories, and all else that matters. I hear you. And I feel the quaking even now.

As it should be.