Archive - 2015

November 12th

Red Cups Matter

Today, I created an image of a Red Starbucks cup with “Concerned Student 1950” written on it because I believe these two hot topics are closely related to what is going on in the 2016 election and are all part of a much bigger context. I’m also including the Halloween issue at Yale in all of this.

I’m trying to avoid getting mired in the nitty gritty of all of these, although I have had a little run with the red cups, and I’m trying to look at this from a much larger picture and I could easily go off on a thousand different tangents about what is going on at Yale.

It seems that Colin McEnroe tried to do something similar in his column, Yalies Whining For Protection, Not Fighting Adversity.

He says the students are “overindulged”, attempting to place all of this in the context of the sons and daughters of entitled helicopter parents. On one level, what he is saying might have a little validity, but I do worry about painting all students with such a broad brush.

Instead, I see the overindulgence and the entitled helicopter parents as yet another manifestation of the same larger underlying dynamic, the transformation of the American Dream.

Colin suggests

To recap: Most — perhaps not all — of the current uprising is the fallout from a campuswide conversation about Halloween costumes. Not Ferguson. Not Afghanistan. Not immigration. Not Planned Parenthood.

This is where I think he gets it wrong. It isn’t really about Halloween costumes. That is a gross oversimplification. It is about Ferguson. It is very much about Ferguson as I see my friends of color from colleges and universities around the country posting things like

To the students of color at Mizzou, we, Wesleyan alumni of color, stand with you in solidarity. To those who would threaten your sense of safety, we are watching. ‪#‎ConcernedStudent1950‬ ‪#‎InSolidarityWithMizzou‬‪#‎daretobeblackinamerica‬

And it is very much about immigration, and planned parenthood, and all the things that threaten the Christian White Male Hegemony.

Despite the myths of Horatio Alger and the melting pot, the American Dream, until recently has been the primary domain of white Christian men of European dissent. That is changing. America’s global dominance is slipping in this era of globalization. American Empire is heading the direction of the British Empire. We live in a country where a black man, or more accurately, a person of mixed race, has become president. We live in a country where there is a strong chance that the next president will be female. We live in a country where fewer and fewer people identify themselves as Christian; where Christians, Whites, and Men have become, or are becoming, minorities.

We can perhaps learn from the decline of the British Empire. We can perhaps even see parallels. It is little surprise that the shooter in Charleston wore insignias from Apartheid era South Africa and from Rhodesia. People resist their group losing power. They threaten, they exclude, they become violent.

Those gaining new power, may not be great at wielding it. They still carry the emotional scares of being oppressed. They seek to be treated with respect. It is sort of like when the kid who has been bullied in school finds some new allies and starts standing up to the bullies. This is illustrated nicely in the browser extension which replaces ‘politically correct’ with ‘treating people with respect’.

If you are part of the old power structure, you may complain about political correctness, or about having to start treating others with respect.

It is a difficult process. We will complain about not being able to fly confederate flags, about holiday greetings, and holiday coffee cups that don’t acknowledge the dominance, fading though it may be, of our religion. We may suffer white fragility as people of color point out how things we are saying or doing can be hurtful to others.

But all of this is part of the transition to a country, that hopefully comes a little bit closer to the myths of Horatio Alger and the melting pot. As a straight white cis Christian male of European descent who has compassion for those different from myself, all I can say is, it’s about time.

November 11th

St. Martin's Day

It’s Veterans Day and as I go to the lectionary, I expect to find readings related to the Armistice. Instead, I find readings related to a veteran from centuries before, St. Martin of Tours. I read a little of his history, growing up in a military family, the legend of the goose, and about his shrine, a stopping point of the French route to the Camino de Santiago. I spend a little time reflecting on these and on my own journey, and then return to the appointed lessons.

The first lesson is from Isaiah:

Is not this the fast that I choose:
to loose the bonds of injustice,
to undo the thongs of the yoke,
to let the oppressed go free,
and to break every yoke?
Is it not to share your bread with the hungry,
and bring the homeless poor into your house;
when you see the naked, to cover them,
and not to hide yourself from your own kin?

It reminds me of the discussions about the Starbucks Red Cup. A friend of mine who is Jewish commented on Facebook and questioned her standing in being able to say anything about the ‘Christian’ kerfuffle.

We share some of the same sacred texts, like Isaiah, and as another shared sacred text says, “There is nothing new under the sun.” The comments on Facebook about caring for the hungry and homeless echo back to Isaiah.

So this Veteran’s Day, I’ll pause to remember those who served their countries, whether it be U.S. Veterans, German Veterans, or Veterans of the Roman Army. I’ll especially remember those who are hungry or homeless and can’t afford a cup of Starbucks coffee.

Buen Camino

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November 9th

The Red Cup of Kindness

Then Jesus began to say to them, "Beware that no one leads you astray. Many will come in my name and say, `I am he!’ and they will lead many astray.

This part of the Gospel for this coming Sunday came to mind today as I read about a man walking into a Starbucks wearing a Jesus Christ T-Shirt, carrying a gun, and telling the people his name was “Merry Christmas”.

Ref: Starbucks ‘removed Christmas from their cups because they hate Jesus,’ Christian [sic] says in viral Facebook video.

Now, I’ve been heartened to see people posting things on Facebook like:

Let me get this straight; you’re upset because Starbucks is selling coffee in red cups without snowflakes and you call this a ‘war on Christmas’?

Let me tell you what a real war on Christmas looks like: it looks like hunger, poverty, homelessness, and bigotry. Now, leave those cups alone and fight those battles.

Yet I’m also reading Pew Reports about Millennials increasingly are driving growth of ‘nones’. I’m reading books about why Millennials are less interested in organized religion, but not necessarily any less spiritual.

No, the person carrying his gun into Starbucks wearing his Jesus Christ T-Shirt, is playing a big role in the war on Christmas. He is driving people away from Christ.

Christmas, the day that we celebrate the divine entering into human lives. The war on Christmas isn’t about what a cup looks like or the holiday greetings we share. It is about making God’s love manifest in our relations.

Then again, maybe Christmas is really about a common cup and a greeting we share. It is the cup of the Eucharist. It is the cup of human kindness.

So I will share a cup of kindness with those who a fighting hunger, poverty, homelessness, and bigotry, no matter what their faith system is or how they great anyone during the holidays.

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November 8th

The Retreat

It had been thirty years
since I last came
to this wooded camp.

I was living in the city then
going to church
with hundreds
of young men and women
artists and businessmen
trying to find themselves
in their crazy twenties
in a crazy city.

I was trying to find something then too,
God, friendship, myself, meaning.

I was awkward.
I was other.
I only fit in,
around the edges.

What would the camp be like
for me
thirty years later?

Then,
I came,
seeking
a blessing.

At this retreat
we came
to practice
pronouncing blessings.

Blessed are you
o road,
that has carried
so many school buses
and church vans,
so many hopes
and fears
to these
hallowed woods.

You’ve been repaved
so many times
over the past
three decades,
May you continue to be
a path
to those who seek.

Blessed are you,
o acorns.
Your ancestors
were buried
by forgetful squirrels
when I was here last.

May your descendants
continue to fall
punctuating
the reflections
of other
retreatants

Blessed are you
o squirrels
running from tree to tree
following ever bending
paths,
performing
leaps of faith
we wouldn’t dare.

Your great great grandparents
leapt from tree to tree
the same way
years ago.

May your faith
and playfulness
live in your grandchildren
and continue to inspire
those yet to dome.

Blessed are you,
o buildings,
so many the same,
though renovated,
and some new.
May you continue
to shelter the seeker
and provide memories.

On the deck,
in quiet meditation,
we looked at the trees
the way
I’ve sat
and looked
at paintings
in art museums.

By the lake
I’d often swum
a piece of bark
rested
on the outdoor altar,
it’s probably now been moved
during a Eucharist.
What does this alter
have in store
for me?

Perhaps,
I’m finding,
what I was
truly looking for
three decades ago,
not some great insight,
friendship,
or goal,
but the beauty
of always
finding
and always
being found,
the beauty
of always
blessing,
and always
being blessed.

November 6th

#DigiWriMo : Paying Attention to Traces

I am distracted. It has been a long week, which isn’t over yet. This morning the sky is still grey and the remaining leaves are still orange brown. I am still going to bed early, not sleeping well, and waking up early. Perhaps it is good that #NaNoWriMo and #DigiWriMo take place in November, after we change back from daylight savings time. I am awake early, which is often my best writing time.

But I’m still distracted. I glance at the time. Do I have enough time to write a good blog post before I need to get in the shower and get on with my day?

I spend a little time reading about William Temple, Archbishop of Canterbury during World War II. Today is his feast day in the Episcopal Church. I should spend more time reading about him and reading the lessons appointed for this day.

But I also want to read some more of #DigiWriMo. So, I look at twitter and am led to a post by Kate Bowles. On the #DigiWriMo site, she wrote Traces.

We’ve been talking about cartography in #DigiWriMo and I’ve been thinking about Songlines, about the dreaming track. Writing digitally is part of my dream time. It is the pile of stones I leave along my path.

I think of such piles of stones and I think of cairns and burial monuments.

In her blog post, Kate writes about the markers as a way of saying “I was just here. We all were.” I think of the monument friends put up digitally after a friend’s son died. “Isaac was here”. I joined in, both in my writing, and physically. My wife and I drew “Isaac was here” in the sand on Cape Cod on the day of Isaac’s funeral.

As I read Kate’s words, I think of the idea of becoming, by being, of saying something, and by saying it, making it happen. We become connect to others. We pay greater attention. I’m reading Barbara Brown Taylor’s book, “An Altar in the World”. Currently, I’m reading the chapter, “The Practice of Paying Attention”.

It is a hard discipline in this over stimulated world, especially for those of us who probably would have been diagnosed with ADHD when we were younger.

I’ve managed to pay enough attention long enough this morning to write this blog post, but probably not enough to give it a good editing. I’ll hop in the shower, and then head off to work, trying to keep my eyes open for traces.