As 2018 begins…

Dec 26, 2017 | My sort-of Sermons, Sovereignty, Women's Voice & Power

Rebecca Solnit has written a book called, The Mother of All Questions: Further Reports from the Feminist Revolutions – now in my Amazon cart. One quote, read just this morning, convinced me I needed it as part of my library:

The task of calling things by their true names, of telling the truth to the best of our abilities, of knowing how we got here, of listening particularly to those who have been silenced in the past, of seeing how the myriad stories fit together and break apart, of using any privilege we may have been handed to undo privilege or expand its scope is each of our tasks. It’s how we make the world.

I read these words and immediately acknowledge that no truer or better work could be done or hoped for as we step into 2018.

At the risk of sounding redundant, here is Solnit’s quote in list form along with some questions I’m asking myself…maybe you:

Tell the truth to the best of our abilities.
What is the truth that I have been resisting, that deserves to be heard, that WILL change my world and potentially/probably others’?

Know how we got here.
What are the stories I have lived that have compelled and shaped who I am today? What of these need my attention, my affirmation, my intentional healing and change?

Listen to those who have been silenced in the past (a la Harvey Weinstein, not to mention an entire freight train of stories throughout history).
What are the specific ways in which I can create invitation and space for stories not heard, for women who still feel unheard, even for myself?

See how our stories fit together and break apart.
Will I recognize that my story is both the same and different from others’? Will I allow the complexity, the both/and, the dissonance, in order to expand my heart on my own behalf and far, far beyond?

Use our (acknowledged and expansive) privilege to undo such and expand its scope.
What steps am I willing to take to ever-admit and name my own privilege? What will I do to utilize such (and let go of such) on behalf of those who need and deserve it?

I won’t presume to write your New Year’s Resolutions for you, but these might just serve as prompt or verbatim; a way to “make the world” we long for, hope for, and so desperately need.

May it be so.

To hope is to gamble. It’s to bet on your futures, on your desires, on the possibility that an open heart and uncertainty is better than gloom and safety. To hope is dangerous, and yet it is the opposite of fear, for to live is to risk. ~ Rebecca Solnit, Hope in the Dark

Charlottesville

Aug 17, 2017 | My sort-of Sermons, Women's Voice & Power

I feel a heavy, collective shame.

I feel stuck, trapped even, between not knowing what to say or what to do and simultaneously knowing that I can’t not speak, can’t not act. My privilege feels visceral – like a creeping flu that I know is in my system and will, undoubtedly, make itself manifest; already has. I can do all the right things: get extra sleep, down the Vitamin C, but it’s inevitable: I won’t be able to hold it off forever. Likewise, I can do all the right things: speak out, go to vigils, write my congress-people, sign petitions, give money, write strong and opinion-full blog posts, but it’s inevitable: I can hold it off forever. I can stay in my house and appreciate its comfort and feel safe and be grateful for healthcare and a steady paycheck and my freshly-mowed lawn and both my own and my daughters’ education, and change nothing.

Maybe it’s something to say so. Maybe it’s something to see and notice and name. Maybe it matters to acknowledge the shame, the stuck-ness, the viral-privilege that inhabits my cells whether I want it to, or not. Maybe it matters: my writing, my voice, my words, my persistence, my presence, my heart.

I don’t know.

But I do care – and deeply.

Even though it doesn’t feel like enough.

Because it isn’t enough. It just isn’t. And I’m so, so sorry.

Power & Privilege (and me)

Sep 6, 2006 | My sort-of Sermons, Sacred Stories, Women's Voice & Power

These words: power and privilege, have been part of numerous conversations lately. Some of those conversations have considered both from the perspective of not having either. Others have considered what it means to acknowledge both the words and their reality in our own lives and be aware of the “other” more intentionally. In all of them, the words seem to be tricky, hard to pin down, misunderstood,
confusing, and hard to stay focused on or do anything about.

Toward that end, I’ve been thinking about the story of Hagar – and Sarah – as example of power and privilege gone bad…on a number of levels.

Sarah is clearly the person in this relationship with power and privilege. Not as much as her husband, obviously, but still more than her maidservant, Hagar. When tension rises, Sarah uses her power/privilege card to get her way and Hagar is sent into the desert – twice! The
first time alone and pregnant and the second time with her young son.

This story disturbs me, in part because the conflict is between two women. Power and privilege belong to one and are used against the other, seemingly without any consideration of how that might be harmful, unfair, etc. I would hope for better. And, it still happens. So sad.

It also disturbs me because Sarah’s behavior has no element of self-reflection. It seems second-nature for Sarah to get her way – a mark of privilege’s familiarity for those who have such AND a lack of how such can be so profoundly damaging to those without.

I’m also disturbed by this story because historically as it’s been exegeted, we’ve focused on Hagar’s “insolence” and then implicitly assumed that she deserved to be cast away. After all, Sarah was the chosen one – the wife of Abraham, the bearer of God’s covenant. We’ve excused her behavior more often than not and have nearly ignored the plight of this powerless woman who is banished into distant lands, never to be heard from again. This common textual emphasis in itself, speaks loudly to our own comfort with power and privilege as predominantly white, middle-class Americans.

There’s enough to struggle with just in these realities but I think there’s more:

When we look more closely at Hagar’s story we come to see that she has a powerful and privileged encounter with God…unlike Sarah. She, the marginalized, powerless, unprivileged one is seen by God and sees God. She, the outcast, is the first theophany in all of Scripture. She, the one we’ve too often ignored, is the one who knows God in far more profound ways than Sarah, certainly, and frankly most of us.

What are we to learn from this? For me, it makes me wonder what I “miss” of God as long as I hold on to my own power and privilege. Power and privilege are woven into everything; they are not all or nothing “qualities.” I have them both – and both are used in ways that harm me and those around me.

These are hard conversations and they seem to me to be at the core of much, if not all, of the struggles of which I’m so acutely aware: issues of gender, race, inclusion, diversity, social justice, politics, theology…Is there anything untouched by these two words?

May I be a woman who is aware of her power and her privilege – its benefits and its potential to harm. May I be a woman who is not afraid of naming the misuse of power and privilege as it harms me – and those around me.

A quickly typed post. Lots more thoughts spinning in my head and heart. Undoubtedly, more to follow.