Archive - 2016
January 26th
The Death of an Unintentional Racist
Submitted by Aldon Hynes on Tue, 01/26/2016 - 21:22He didn’t have
a racist bone in his body
in the colloquial sense
of a bigot
treating others,
unlike him,
harshly.
He always tried
to help those
less fortunate
than himself
even though
he didn’t believe
in affirmative action
or acknowledge
white privilege.
He was advanced in years
as the car industry faltered
and the city became poorer
and blacker.
He was stoic,
self reliant,
and continued to drink the tap water
even after
the city
started drawing water
from the river
and health advisories abounded.
We’ll never know
if it was the bacteria
in the water
of the now predominantly
black city,
or just his age,
that killed him.
January 25th
Lanyards
Submitted by Aldon Hynes on Mon, 01/25/2016 - 20:29Dave thought back
to that day at summer camp
when he made lanyards
with his friend Billy
and the help of a camp counsellor.
It was
one of the most important gifts
he gave to his mother that year
which she accepted graciously
without a trace of irony.
Years later, Dave read Billy’s poem
and wondered about his own presumption,
giving a lanyard to his mother,
as if it mattered.
The memories came flooding back
as he kneeled next to the open coffin
saying good bye to his mother
who was clasping a crucifix
with the lanyard attached.
Hannah listlessly dusted
her son’s bedroom
like she had every day
since the overdose.
Everything was still
in the same place
as that fateful day
and she wondered,
what could she have done differently?
Her eyes fell upon a piece of plastic
a lanyard, artlessly woven,
by her son
at summer camp
years ago.
If she had accepted it
graciously,
with a mother’s true love,
maybe he wouldn't be gone
today.
Gary paused
as he swept the rec room
at the summer camp,
pieces of popsicle sticks,
remnants of copper,
some paper mache,
strips of plastic.
He looked at
the incomplete
abandoned
lanyards
and wondered
what would become
of the campers.
January 24th
Spiritual Autobiographies
Submitted by Aldon Hynes on Sun, 01/24/2016 - 18:51This weekend, I participated in the Trinity Institute conference, Sacred Conversations for Racial Justice which left me with much to think about. One of the speakers made frequent references to Counter Memory and there was a lot of discussion about hearing different histories and herstories in an effort to undo racism, to change the narrative about race and the stereotypes around race.
I thought about where I am in my own personal narrative. This coming Thursday my discernment committee will meet. It is part of the process, potentially leading to ordination as a priest in the Episcopal Church. For this coming Thursday, we are supposed to discuss our spiritual autobiographies. I wrote a short version of this for my meeting with Bishop Ian and some of the members of the Commission on Ministry last fall.
Can I share it online? How does my spiritual story relate to using Counter Memory to undo racism? Can we, as individuals telling our stories shift the master narrative about race in America? What about shifting the narratives around class, mental illness, spirituality?
In the past, I’ve written about my discernment process and my hope to live out some of that process online.
The 2015 ECCT Discernment Manual has these instructions for this session.
“You hem me in, behind and before, and lay your hand upon me.” - Psalm 139
Reflect on that verse. How has and is God calling you to use your gifts for the kingdom? How do you understand the priesthood of all believers?Additional question for nominee: Why do you feel called to exercise your gifts as an ordained leader?
Spend time sharing each others spiritual autobiographies orally or in written form.
So, I’m sharing a short version of my spiritual autobiography here. I invite others to join in the discussion.
January 23rd
2016 Political Ads
Submitted by Aldon Hynes on Sat, 01/23/2016 - 14:05Those who don’t learn from the past are condemned to see old political ads recast. I’ve been thinking a lot about this recently, as I’ve read headlines about Ted Cruz’s comments about carpet bombing.
These are the stakes: To make a world in which all of God's children can live, or to go into the darkness. We must either love each other, or we must die.
Vote for Senator Sanders on November 8th. The stakes are too high for you to stay home.
Today, Kim shared the recent Bernie Sanders ad It’s morning in America.
I don’t have the updated statistics, so I’d simply change “This afternoon 6,500 young men and women will be married” to, “This afternoon, American’s can get married no matter what their sexual orientation is.”
January 22nd
Being At The Right Place #TI2016
Submitted by Aldon Hynes on Fri, 01/22/2016 - 07:13“It is quite an extraordinary thing to be at the right place.” This is the thought that came over me last night as I was driving home from the fist evening of Trinity Institute 2016. Let me explain what I mean, and how I got there.
Perhaps we can start with a little contrast. However have we heard about someone being at the wrong place at the wrong time, when something really bad has happened? It seems we hear that a lot more than we hear about someone being at the right place at the right time.
Yet place is more than just geographic. There is a poem about being at this place, which I can’t recall. It is mixed together with Eucharistic Prayer C, “the vast expanse of interstellar space, galaxies, suns, the planets in their courses, and this fragile earth, our island home.” It seems like it comes from T.S. Eliot, but I can’t find the quote. Instead, I stumble across the end of Four Quartets
We shall not cease from exploration
And the end of all our exploring
Will be to arrive where we started
And know the place for the first time.
Perhaps it is from a poem by Denise Levertov instead. It is a digression to think about poets and place, but some of how I got to this place involves poetry.
Time present and time past
Are both perhaps present in time future
And time future contained in time past.
Yesterday, a friend posted about her son saying “yes” repeatedly and contrasting it with her studies in linguistic geography. Her ancestors came from a place that doesn’t say simply yes. They affirm with different, longer phrases. I don’t know the cultural or linguistic reasons for this, but it is something I’ve often echoed. I’ve always been very cautious about saying yes. You never really know what you are being asked to say yes to. If someone asks if I can do something, I usually respond, “It depends, what do you have in mind?”
I usually end up doing what’s been requested, so much so that my boss recently asked me if ‘no’ is ever in my vocabulary. But how do we truly say ‘yes’?
The poem by e.e.cummings comes to mind; “i thank You God for most this amazing”
i thank You God for most this amazing
day: for the leaping greenly spirits of trees
and a blue true dream of sky; and for everything
which is natural which is infinite which is yes
I’ve often seen this in terms of fully saying ‘yes’ to God, something that, at least for me, has always been a challenge. Yet this ‘yes’ is part of being at the right place.
A year ago, I ended up at a conference on poetry at Yale Divinity School. At one moment during a guided meditation, I finally said ‘yes’, with all the joy, fear, and uncertainty that it contains. It was one of those moments of being at the right place.
Years ago, I studied Calvinism, and I often think back to the ‘TULIP’. Total Depravity, Unconditional Election, Limited Atonement, Irresistible Grace, and Perseverance of the Saints. I have issues with parts of this, but being at the right place, for me, is tied to ‘Irresistible Grace’.
God’s Grace was irresistible during that guided meditation, and again last night.
It is easy to be caught up in the concerns of the day and miss being at the right place. Last night was a great example. I was watching the livestream with about a dozen people in a large room at The Commons, the meeting space of The Episcopal Church in Connecticut.
I ran into Karin Hamilton, the Canon for Mission Communication & Media. I had worked with her to set up the The Episcopal Church in Connecticut’s first web page, back in the early to mid 90s. We talked a little about that, and my current journey. I met the other folks attending. Several were wearing the collars of priests.
I had wondered if I should bring my laptop, which I did, and I set it up so I could live tweet some of the evening. I love live tweeting. It is a way to take note, be involved, and also share the message. Yet it can also prevent us from being fully present and be part of our defense against being vulnerable, in the moment.
The stream did not work reliably. Having streamed conferences for work, I know what a fiasco this can be, as people sit around nervously waiting for things to get fixed. I tweeted about it and found that others across the country were having same experience and responding in different ways. People shared ideas of trying to fix the problem. Folks at Trinity Church spoke about dealing with their streaming provider to get the problem fixed, and there was humor.
The topic for this year’s Trinity Institute is “Sacred Conversations for Racial Justice”. It started with a church service, and as I listened to the Kyrie loop and repeat in the livestream, I tweeted “I didn't mind the Kyrie repeating. It's the patterns of racism repeating that I find most frustrating.”
Another person tweeted, “I must say, all this skipping around in the Eucharistic Prayer lends some Cubist re-interpretations.” As some mixture of linguist, technologist, exploring the priesthood, that phrase jumped out at me. As we re-imagine The Episcopal Church in twenty-first century, it seems like a digital cubist re-interpretation of church and our relationship to God is called for. I hope to come back to this in later writings.
One person tweeted, “Our plan @CentralLuthMPLS in Minneapolis is to watch the sermon now and then tomorrow watch the keynote during lunch.” I mentioned this where I was and we decided that instead of trying to understand a digital cubist re-interpretation of the keynote, we would join with our brothers and sisters in Minneapolis and watch the on demand version of Bishop Curry’s sermon and then later, ideally, on our own in the morning before Friday’s sessions, try to watch, or at least listen to, the keynote.
I’m glad we did. The digital cubist version of Bishop Curry’s sermon was very interesting, and I’m glad I got to see that, but the on demand uninterrupted stream was amazing, and also deserves at least a blog post of its own.
Afterwards, we held hands and prayed.
God was there, palpable.
We have a lot to do, to fix the broken livestream of racism, where harmful patterns keep repeating. Yet at the same time, a pattern of hope is there, repeating like the Ripples of Hope Robert Kennedy spoke about years ago.
For me, exploring poetry, technology, activism, and vocation, it was the right place, and I repeated to God, “Yes”, whatever that may lead to.