After the Conviction

 More than one friend, nonresidents of Minnesota, emailed me the day after the conviction of Derek Chauvin to say how relieved I must feel. 

I did feel relief, but I wondered if I should feel relief. Why did I feel relief and what exactly did that relief encompass? And what business did I have feeling relief? I am a white, privileged woman in her 70's and what stake did I have in the outcome of the trial? 

Besides, this was only one trial, one police officer convicted, and shootings have continued, even as the trial was in process. 

I was relieved that riots and violence and property damage were averted.

I was relieved that Minnesota might not be in the news every night.

I was relieved that in at least one case justice was done.

I was relieved for George Floyd's family--that at least their loved one was known as a real person whose life should not have been taken from them. 

In Sunday's sermon Pastor Javen Swanson gave a brilliant sermon about the heaviness he was feeling, and reminded us that "justice occurs when hearts are changed."

Justice occurs when hearts are changed. 

That's the kind of relief I want--the relief that comes knowing hearts have changed. That has yet to be proven. 

I have been reading Diana Butler Bass's new book, Freeing Jesus, Rediscovering Jesus as Friend, Teacher, Savior, Lord, Way and Presence, and she mentions Dorothy Day who "displayed a restless sense of moving deeper into both the world and God." (186)

Read that phrase again: "...a restless sense of moving deeper into both the world and God." That's what happens, I think, when hearts are changed. 

Bass continues to describe the two spiritual journeys: "the interior one toward knowing our true self and knowing God, and the one directed outward into the world to enact God's justice and love." (186) 

As a spiritual director, I meet with clients who desire to deepen that interior journey, to awaken to the movement of God in their lives. What often happens then is that their growing awareness leads them into the world to BE the movement of God. Or sometimes a client comes to me whose focus and energy is devoted to making a difference in the world, but they feel some emptiness or exhaustion in their spiritual life. 

The interior journey and the one directed outward have a dynamic relationship. Both are needed. Sometimes one is--and needs to be--more dominant than the other. For each of us one journey may feel more challenging, and the other may unfold more naturally. My way of pursuing each of the journeys may look, more than likely will look, different from your paths. 

Both paths, entangled sometimes, but always stretching out in front of us, change hearts. 

This is hard work. Important work. Sacred work. This is the work God has given us to do. 

Here are some words that may help. 

        Go gently into the new day.
        Go with love for yourself and others.
        Kindle patience towards all beings, all things.
        Remain awake as you step in any direction.
        Keep a hand on the pulse of your creativity.
        Remember always what is yours to embody.
        Share yourself freely.
        Go with your imagination lit and your intuition purring with possibility.
        When in doubt, be yourself.
        Step forward. 
                                    Glenn Mitchell, Oasis Ministries

An Invitation
Where are you on the journey to change hearts? I would love to know. 

NOTE: You can watch Pastor Javen's sermon here. You can read Diana Butler Bass's blog here. You can read Glenn Mitchell's daily meditations here.

        

A Tough Week: Tuesday's Reflection

Vigil at St Paul Reformation Church

I live in St Paul, and we have had our share of tough news this last week. A friend emailed me, "Even in St Paul." Yes, here, too. We are definitely not immune to racism and its painful results. 

Sunday morning I needed church, and I was grateful to be in a church community where the tough days are addressed and not brushed away with platitudes or easy answers. Our pastors struggle to bring hope without brushing away the realities, and they allow us in the pews to journey with them in their own pain and questions. 

And so we went to church, which seemed a bit more full than a normal summer Sunday in Minnesota. I think we needed to share space with others. We needed to pray together, to sit quietly and listen. We also needed to delight in new life. How perfect it was to celebrate the baptism of three gorgeous babies. We needed those babies yesterday!

In the afternoon we went to church again--this time a vigil service at St Paul Reformation Church, which is located only a block away from the school where Philando Castille worked, but is also close to the Governor's Mansion where there have been and continue to be demonstrations. Presiding Bishop for the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, Elizabeth Eaton spoke, and I appreciated her response to the question, "Is our country breaking apart or waking up?" She pointed out that some parts need to be broken off--the parts that prevent all people from experiencing peace and justice. But she certainly affirmed that this is a time in which we need to wake up, and we need to listen to each other. 

Where do you go when you need to process upsetting, unsettling events? Do you have a community, faith or otherwise, where it is not only safe to grapple with the hard questions, but it is expected and honored? With whom do you dig deep? Where do you find new perspectives and new insights? 

Where do you find peace? Bishop Eaton said there are many kinds of peace and perhaps not all are helpful when we desperately need change. Peace can sometimes mean apathetic status quo in which we allow ourselves to be untouched. Or as my mother often requested, "Let's just have happy talk."

I mean the kind of peace that is based on love and respect and openness and a desire for wholeness. The kind of peace that knows we are all one.  

An Invitation
Where is your community of peace? I hope you have one and if you don't, what are you willing to do to find or create one? I would love to know. 

Resources
Gloria Dei Lutheran Church
St Paul Reformation Church

Words that Remain: Tuesday's Reflection

At St Paul Conservatory. Photo Credit: Bruce Agneberg

Lent is over. Holy Week was last week, and Easter Sunday has come and gone. What remains?

Today is a good day to sit still and see what floats up through the silence. 

"God renew." Each Wednesday evening at the Lenten service we chanted this phrase in response to petitions for all creation. I pray for renewal of all creation and that includes me. What within me cries out for renewal?

An invitation to "unplug." To sit in silence for three minutes every day. Sitting in silence is not hard for me. I welcome and depend on the silence, but within that invitation was another deeper question. Where am I too attached? In what ways do I need to let go and unplug?

On Maundy Thursday we accepted a call to take off our socks and shoes and let someone wash our feet and then to wash the feet of another. An invitation to be vulnerable. An invitation to be tender and to receive another's care. 

That same evening the phrase "the unlikely friends of Jesus" was used and I thought about what Nadia Bolz-Weber says in her book Accidental Saints, Finding God in all the Wrong People, "Never once did Jesus scan the room for the best example of holy living and send that person out to tell others about him. He always sent stumblers and sinners. I find that comforting." Me, too. 

Good Friday we were each invited to lay our burdens on the cross in the form of a red ribbon. I named my burdens and failings, at least the ones I am aware of, in my heart, and asked for forgiveness and for relief and for clarity. 

"This is the night," we chanted at the Easter Vigil Saturday night. How often I say to myself and others, "If not now, when?" All of a sudden the "now" had come and there was no turning back. What have I missed because I waited too long? What is the threshold the night implores me to cross?

"Yes!" Sunday morning roared with "Yes!" "Yes to love. Yes to forgiveness. Yes to kindness and gentleness. Yes to life." You can read Pastor Bradley's sermon here.

These past weeks have been intense with words and images and encounters. Some weeks are like that, even without connection to specific traditions or beliefs. What remains, what will continue to resonate will unfold. My prayer is that each of us open our hearts to the prompts in front of us. To wake up. To become more whole.

An Invitation
What has called you, spoken to you recently? I would love to know. 

Tears: Tuesday's Reflection

Need a Hanky? 

When was the last time you cried or at least felt a tear or two gather in the corner of an eye and begin the slow, wet path down your cheek? 

I cried most recently in church last Sunday. Our guest preacher was Pastor Susan Peterson, the former senior pastor of our congregation. We weren't members of Gloria Dei when she was pastor, but she was there when one of my dearest friends, a member of Gloria Dei, was dying. Seeing Pastor Susan again after all those years brought those days and weeks to mind and heart. I miss my friend, and I often wonder which pew she sat in and wonder if I am sitting in her place.  

I shed a tear for her--not a planned or expected tear. 

When was the last time you were with someone who cried? I try to have a box of tissues available when I meet with a spiritual directee, for tears often flow during those intimate sessions.  Sometimes getting together with a friend whose life is in a tender and maybe even scary spot results in tears. Has that happened to you?

The tears are not planned or expected. 

My sister-in-law recently had a lumpectomy after months of chemo and seeing a picture of her with her two daughters right before surgery caused me to burst into tears. Tears of hope that all would be well for her. Tears of connection to my nieces whom I knew were worried about their mother. But also tears of recognition, remembering my own successful cancer surgery many years ago. I guess those feelings never quite disappear. 

The tears were not planned or expected. 

I am tired of the controversy about our president shedding a tear, showing emotion about so many violent gun deaths. He didn't sob or lose control or fall to his knees shaking in emotion. An unplanned and unexpected tear rolled down his cheek, and he needed a second or two to regain control over his voice. 

He is not the first leader to cry in public, and I hope he is not the last. The tear doesn't say anything about his ability to lead or make decisions. Instead, the tear says everything about his humanity.

Just as our own tears, unplanned, unexpected, are signals of our own humanity, our ability to feel. 

An Invitation
When did you last cry? I would love to know. 

Nadia Bolz: Weber, Sinner and Saint: Thursday's Reflection

Recently, the Lutheran pastor, Nadia Bolz-Weber spoke to a standing room only crowd at our church, Gloria Dei, in St Paul. I knew many would come to hear her, but I had no idea I would end up sitting in the last row of the balcony, instead of my usual left side in the middle pew. She is used to these kinds of crowds, for she speaks honestly and clearly, often with words many would consider not appropriate in the church. Instead of "pious" as most would define it, she acknowledges her flaws and how they formed the faithful, although unconventional, woman she is. The name of her congregation in Denver is appropriate: House for All Sinners and Saints. I love that the word "sinners" comes before the name "saints" in the name of the congregation. 

Her appearance  tall, heavily tattooed, not an ounce of fat in those tight ripped jeans, is at first startling to one who still dresses up for church, but then she starts speaking about why she is a Lutheran and about grace and how God is a source of wholeness and "my brokenness is not the final word." 

Here's a sampler of what she said that night:

"Me, too," are connecting words.

"It is in our jagged edges where God gets hold of us and yet we keep trying to smooth ourselves out." 

"What we say in church may be true, but not honest."

"Church is a place where we should be able to dive into our difficulties."

The words that particularly grabbed me were about experience. She encouraged us to trust our personal experience. Early in her book Pastrix. The Cranky, Beautiful Faith of a Sinner and Saint, she writes,
          I once heard someone say that my belief in Jesus 
          makes them suspect that I intellectually suck my
          thumb at night. But I can not pretend, as much as 
          sometimes I would like to, that I have not throughout
          my life experienced the redeeming, destabilizing
          love of a surprising God. Even when my mind protests,
          I still can't deny my experiences. This thing is real to me.
          Sometimes I experience God when someone speaks 
          the truth to me, sometimes in the moments when I 
          admit I am wrong, sometimes in the loving of 
          someone unlovable, sometimes in reconciliation that
          feels like it comes from somewhere outside of myself,
          but always when I experience God it comes in the 
          form of some kind of death and resurrection. pp. xvi-xvii

She confesses what she has experienced to be true. 

I wonder how often I disregard my own experiences in favor of what someone else tells me is "true" or how often I diss my own responses, in favor of what I have been told I should feel or believe or know. Yes, that includes church, too. 

What I am coming to understand is that this stage of my life is awakening to my own experience, my own wisdom, my own truths. I am not interested in converting you to what I understand to be true, but if as I come to know the essence of who I am, you also come to greater awareness, I will be most gratified. 

I felt the audience of young and old, church and unchurched, believers and nonbelievers, breathe in unison with Nadia. I glanced at the two young people seated next to me, each holding a phone, but no texting or checking messages was happening. They were rapt in attention. I could feel their yearning energy. After the talk I greeted them--just what they needed was an old lady trying to have a conversation with them--and asked them how they happened to be there. They had seen Nadia on YouTube and heard she would be here. I thanked them for coming, expressed hope that this had been a life-enhancing experience for them and invited them to visit anytime. They would be most welcome.  

An Invitation
What have you experienced to be true? I would love to know. 


Resources
Nadia Bolz-Weber
Fresh Air Broadcast

Want to Talk?: Thursday's Reflection

When was the last time you had a conversation with someone in which you felt heard? Really heard. When was the last time you were willing to share your below the surface self with someone? When was the last time you asked questions in a conversation, instead of just talking about yourself? When was the last time you were asked thoughtful, stimulating questions in a conversation? When was the last time you learned something new, something you didn't know about a friend or acquaintance during a conversation? 

When was the last time you had a real conversation, instead of communicating in a text or an email? 

Our congregation is engaging in a conversation campaign --one on one conversations in which we hope to get to know each other better, beyond the quick Sunday morning "how are you?" We are a community that interacts well in the greater community through social justice initiatives, and we are intentional about being inclusive and welcoming, but how well do we really know each other? If we were willing to speak with one another from our hearts and to share our concerns with one another, how would that change the culture of who we are and how we care for one another? 

A number of us were asked to participate in this experiment and to attend a night of training. How interesting, I thought, that we need to be trained in the art of conversation! Basically, the training was a reminder to be curious and courageous. We were each given the names of five people in the congregation to contact and to invite them for an hour or so of conversation. "I would like to get to know you better." There was no hidden agenda, no connection to the congregation's capital campaign. Just talk. 

We were encouraged to be the listener and questioner 30% of the time and to encourage our partner to talk 70% of the time, but sometimes the conversations I had were more 40-60%, since none of the people I contacted knew me, and I am a new member in the church. They seemed as eager to get to know me as I to know them. We shared the time. And each time was rich.

Each intentional encounter reminded me that wherever two or three are gathered, there God is as well. This was holy time, sacred time. In each case, we discovered something, beyond our church membership, we held in common --a part of our background or a person we each knew or something that mattered to us in a profound way. By listening with the eyes of our hearts, we found connection to each other, but, I think, in some unexpected way, we found greater understanding of ourselves as well. When we listen deeply, listen for what is not being said, as well as what is being shared, we learn about our own vulnerabilities, our own assumptions, and perhaps, the places where we judge or are stuck.

As a spiritual director, I am blessed to participate in deep conversations frequently. I have ongoing opportunities to explore the movement of God in the lives of those who choose to spend time in intimate conversation. Each time I meet with someone who willingly opens her heart, I become more aware of how Spirit is moving in my own life as well. My directees are intentional about enhancing their spiritual lives and their relationship with God, however they define God, the Sacred the Holy, and it is a privilege to share Presence with them. Spiritual direction is a wondrous opportunity and a worthy spiritual practice, but we each have opportunities to be present to each other every day. 

We each have a story. We each are creating and living our story every day of our lives. We each are more than what we appear on the surface. We each have the need to be heard, to be known. We each hunger in our own way for connection, heartfelt connection. And we each have the ability to offer that to others. That can happen if we are willing to stop and take a deep breath, look in someone's eyes and in a quiet, but clear voice, open to being present to another. 

None of us participating in this one on one initiative at our church knows what the results of this practice will be. We hope it will lead to a more caring community, but for now we are simply and without forming a new committee or board or raising money or writing a grant or voting on guidelines, inviting people to engage in conversation. Listen and learn. Ask and receive. 

An Invitation
Where are there opportunities in your life to engage in conversation beyond the basics, the obvious facts? Who in your life is waiting for a chance to share what is in their hearts, even if they aren't fully aware of that need? Are you willing to take a risk with someone you may see everyday, but don't really know? I would love to know what happens when you open your heart in this way? 

Note:
Gloria Dei Lutheran Church, St Paul http://www.gloriadeistpaul.org

If the spiritual direction process interests you, please contact me and I would be happy to explore that possibility with you. 

Tuesday's Reflection: Compassion and Community

           

Gloria Dei Lutheran Church, St Paul, MN

I can't get him out of my mind.
            
            Last week my husband and I registered members of our congregation for their church directory photo sessions. When we were asked to do this, it was suggested, since we are new members, this would be a nice way to meet a few people, and it was.

            One interaction, however, was upsetting. 

            As I registered a couple, perhaps in their late 60's, I would guess, the man remarked about the "fact" that the Bible says women must subjugate themselves to man. "God says." At first I thought he was trying to be funny. I teased that he was "trouble--big trouble," and he seemed to like that and be encouraged by that, repeating, insisting, declaring the same words. I am not sure what he wanted from me, but I stiffened and wanted to rebuff and reprove, but I was certain I would not be successful.
          
          Other people arrived, and I redirected my attention, as did my husband. How grateful I was when the photographer arrived for their session. (I wonder how that went!) After the session he returned to the registration table, however, and leaned in towards me and said, "Your punishment is to be subjugated to your husband for the rest of your life."

          I told him that was enough and he should leave now. 

          Since then I have wondered what his story is and what life with him is like. How is it possible he reconciles his beliefs with the fact that one of our congregation's pastors is a woman, as is our intern, and the former senior pastor is a woman, and many women are in leadership roles. This is a congregation whose mission states,  "By God's grace we are called to be a caring, healing, and welcoming community who proclaim and celebrate the love of Jesus Christ, live as God's servants and seek justice for all people." http://www.gloriadeistpaul.org  What does that means to him?

         If I felt abused, what does his partner feel? And I wondered what else I could have done, should have done. I may see him on Sunday mornings or at other church events. Do I greet him and move on? Do I attempt to get to know him? Do I engage him in a theological conversation? Do I tell him how offended I was? Do I ignore him?

         I have no idea, but I know my first task, which was not my first inclination, I must admit, is to hold him in the light, to send him lovingkindness. As I sit in morning meditation time, I ask that my heart open to him, not as a vehicle to convince him of the error in his beliefs and behavior, but as a way to extend peace, to help him soothe what seems to be his own troubled heart. 

         Can I do that? Not alone, for sure. I need all the help I can get to see others without judgment, to be a compassionate presence, even as I honor my own personhood. 

          Perhaps the following prayer is one you and I can pray together as we live and grow in community:

           All that we ought to have thought
                 and have not thought.
           All that we ought to have said,
                 and have not said.
           All that we ought to have done,
                 and have not done.
           All that we ought not to have thought,
                 and yet have thought.
           All that we ought not to have spoken,
                 and yet have spoken.
           All that we ought not to have done,
                 and yet have done.

                 For thoughts, words, and works,
                 pray we, O God, for forgiveness.
                                  --A Persian Prayer

An Invitation
      Who are the difficult people in your life or community who could use a boost of lovingkindness? What casual encounters have you had recently that have disturbed you either because of what was said or perhaps because of the way you responded or failed to respond? What are you willing to do to hold yourself and others in the light?