Holy and Sacred Source of All,

We are tired.

Teachers and classroom aides and principals are tired from a 10-month marathon, helping young minds prepare for what’s next….and the young minds being prepared are tired, too, of cramming so much knowledge into so seemingly small a space.

Clergy and lay leaders are tired from a similar 10-month marathon, punctuated by weekly sprints, helping souls prepare for the work of beloved community.

Parents are just tired.

Service workers, postal carriers, landscapers, HVAC workers, city councilors, doctors, psychologists, shop owners, web designers, lawyers, non-profit directors – they’re all tired too.

All who watch the news and listens to NPR and watches their Facebook and Twitter feeds are tired of all the arguing, all the violence, all the discrimination, all the murders, all the suicides.

God, we are tired.

Bless us with relaxation – that we can enjoy quiet, unplugged times sitting in the sun or curling up on the sofa.

Bless us with assurance – that we really can take some down time.

Bless us with peace – that for a little while, we can recharge our long depleted batteries.

Bless us with reminders – that we are still connected to this big, loving, beautiful, hurting world.

God, we are tired… but we are not giving up.

We just need rest. And then we’ll pick up our books and our trowels and our nametags and our brooms and our phones and our pens and our protest signs and our shovels – and start again.

Meanwhile, thank you for the gift of rest.

Amen.

 

If you have ever visited this site, you will notice the design is radically different. Startlingly so, I suspect.

Yet it is more me than the last iteration (FarFringe 2.0), despite all of my wanting the light loops and soft flowery colors to be me. As a reminder, here’s what the old header looked like:

cropped-nftfflogopink-1200x300.jpg

Before that, I had a much bolder, more colorful header, on the original FarFringe – a design that remained untouched for nearly 4 years:

nftff-header-good

I loved the delicate nature of FarFringe 2.0, much as I like ruffles and lace and pastels. They are beautiful and elegant, something for me to look upon with a little longing. Yet every time I try to incorporate them into my own style, they feel awkward and uncomfortable.

The truth is, I am bold and colorful. I am most comfortable in clean, classic cuts – A-line skirts, blouses with clean lines, strong colors. While my home tends toward Early American, clean lines and strong colors still feature prominently. So why should my website be anything less?

My website is a reflection of me – maybe the most modern reflection of me – but still a reflection of me.  FarFringe 3.0 is boldly colored, with clean lines, and an inviting design. Leave the ruffles, lace, and pastels for someone else.

There is so much.. too much, really. Too much bad news, too much good news. Too much stimulation. Too many articles to read. Too many new ideas. Too much movement to respond to. Too much death. Too much hypocrisy. Too much change. Too much…too much…

And yet as intelligent, thoughtful, awake people, we are called upon to notice, to consider, to read, to move, to respond, to address.

But there is too much, and we sit in a paralyzed state, staring at our computer screens while the coffee goes cold and the call to respond beats louder and louder, deafening us. And we find ourselves forgetting the boiling eggs on the stove and the package we need to mail and the thing we went into the next room to get.

We forget to meditate.

We forget to be kind.

We forget to eat well.

We forget to move our bodies.

We forget to smile.

We forget to stare into space.

We forget to pay attention to what matters.

We forget to set aside pettiness and old hurts.

We forget to pray.

We forget ourselves.

What we need is someone or something to call us back into covenant with life. Not with all the too much of life, but with life itself. We need someone or something to call us back to the things that nourish us. We need someone or something to remind us we can’t do everything, can’t respond to everything, can’t read everything, can’t mourn or celebrate everything. We need someone or something to call us back into ourselves.

BougainvilleaI don’t know what that thing is for you; for me, it’s helpful to write it out, and then stare at the flowering bougainvillea while I intentionally sip a hot cup of coffee. And then it will be helpful to step away from the computer and take a walk, and then come back and cook the cauliflower that’s beckoning me every time I open the fridge.

We can’t do it all or hold it all. And how we deal with it without going mad is as important as what we deal with. We are not meant to be overloaded – we are meant to be thoughtful and present.

May it be so.

A colleague of mine – a strong, brilliant, creative woman – recently took to Facebook to note the amazing experience of putting good energy out to get good energy back. In her post, she warned those inclined to mansplain the experience not to try to convince her she was wrong, because she believed in this energetic relationship to the universe.

mansplainingAlmost instantly, a man attempted to explain what was really going on, that it was just coincidence, and oh by the way, here’s a book to explain it in case my authority as a male-presenting, male-identified human wasn’t authority enough. My colleague called him out, noting that his response felt, to her, like mansplaining, and that over time these kinds of comments from men resemble micro-aggressions.

I noted a comment or two later that this reminded me of when an ex-boyfriend tried to mansplain “mansplaining” to me on a Facebook thread, which completely ended any connection we had.

I also went to private messages to tell my colleague that I was proud of her being willing to call out the behavior in a firm but gentle way, which often helps people see their places of privilege. She thanked me, and told me that a number of women had said the same thing to her privately, but I was the only one who spoke out about it in public as well.

I returned to the thread, to discover that another woman passive-aggressively called out…my colleague. I sure hope no one ever singles me out unfairly, she wrote to my colleague.

SIGH.

Women are supposed to defer. And if they’re not, they are still supposed to let men explain things to them. And when they react to that mansplaining, they are encouraged to be quiet and not do anything about it. And women are not supposed to pile on, but rather provide quiet, behind the scenes support.

At least that’s what we’re taught.

But how can we change the behavior if we don’t name the behavior? Neither the person who mansplained nor the person who subtly told my colleague to be quiet are inherently bad or unaware people. They are justice-seeking, open-minded folks who stand on the side of love. Yet in a matter of hours, both displayed behavior that is meant (even unconsciously) to silence, scold, or shame.

As Unitarian Universalists, we regularly put our faith into action – preaching, writing letters, marching, protesting, confronting, and sometimes committing acts of civil disobedience.

Outside our walls.

But time and time again, we let injustice remain inside our walls, for the good of covenant, to keep peace in our beloved community.

So when female-bodied ministers are judged by their clothes and not their message… when LGB but not T is welcome… when words from people of color are regularly omitted or misappropriated or silenced … when those who call out our own class inequality and fair pay issues are told they don’t understand the system… when a colleague is mansplained to and then shamed into silence… we are failing our community, our covenant, and our faith.

affirm light of truthI am proud of my colleague. Her words surprised the man, who – to his credit – not only realized what he had done but apologized. And they are still friends. His being called out on this expression of male privilege helped him see that privilege, and I suspect he won’t do it again; or if he does, he might realize what he’s typed and hit Delete instead of Send.

We need to do more of this. We are bound by covenant to speak truth to each other, to seek justice amongst each other. None of us is perfect, and none of us is guiltless. But if we are willing to be prophetic witnesses to each other, we will be better prophetic witnesses to our communities and our world.

“Take this bread, broken as my body is broken…eat this, in remembrance of me…”

Eat this, in remembrance of Jesus, a teacher, a pastor, a radical, a beloved son whose body was broken by a system that could not bear his truths.

Eat this, in remembrance of Sharon, the coworker whose body was broken one too many times by a violent spouse.

Eat this, in remembrance of Michael, the homeless Desert Storm vet whose body was broken when his staggering body hit the hood of my car, rolled over the roof, and crashed onto the pavement.

Eat this, in remembrance of Tricia, the beloved woman who shared my life and whose body was broken by the ravages of drug addiction, shame, and struggle.

Eat this, in remembrance of Rick, a fellow thespian whose body was broken by the HIV virus before he could create his dramatic masterpiece.

Eat this, in remembrance of my self, whose soul has been broken by grief, and trauma, and depression, and heartache – but whose body still has power and presence and the ability to help the least of these.

 

“This wine is my blood, my life poured out … drink this, in remembrance of me…”

Drink this, in remembrance of Jesus, whose blood drained from his body as he hung on the cross.

Drink this, in remembrance of Sharon, whose blood gathered in bruises that betrayed her best efforts to hide the abuse.

Drink this, in remembrance of Michael, whose blood stained the asphalt as his life left him..

Drink this, in remembrance of Tricia, whose blood was arrested in her body and could no longer pump through her heart.

Drink this, in remembrance of Rick, whose blood was overtaken by a virus that was – at the time – a death sentence.

Drink this, in remembrance of my self, whose blood courses still through my veins, a reminder that my life is called to love and protect and nurture and fight for those who cannot and could not…

 

Amen.

 

 

 

 

You never know what a casual, off-handed comment will lead to.

Three times on Saturday, I made a casual comment about who I am, where I work, and what I do, and three times, I found myself sharing the good news of Unitarian Universalism.

The first was outside our congregation’s yard sale. I must have looked like I belonged there, because a man stopped me and asked “what is this place?” I replied, it’s a Unitarian Universalist church. He seemed hesitant at first, and then said, “Wait, are you the love people?” I smiled as he explained he’d been to a marriage equality rally in another state and saw our big yellow Standing on the Side of Love banners. He said “Y’all are all right. I will definitely buy something.” I smiled again and said, “if you’re around on Sunday, you should come to a service.” He frowned for a moment, and I followed up with “we are all about love here. Doesn’t matter what you believe, only that you act in love.” He smiled finally and said, “now this is a church I could dig.”

I don’t know if he came on Sunday (I had a rare Sunday off), but I know he bought something.

The second was at The Gardens, where my friend Will Johnson plays piano on Saturday afternoons. I try to go every week, to have a glass of wine and listen to some wonderful music. It’s become a spiritual self-care practice for me and I miss it the weeks he’s not playing or I can’t attend. Because I am a Saturday regular, I have gotten to know some of the staff, including Amber, who runs the wine gallery. I came in to get some wine, and I said something offhand about how some weeks, this is as close to going to church I get, since I am a minister. Of course, she asked where, and then asked me what we believe. I got to share the good news of our non-creedal, covenantal faith. She smiled and said “I really miss going to some sort of church, but I am more Buddhist now and feel uncomfortable elsewhere.” I told her how we draw wisdom from the world’s religions, and how, as Francis David said, “we don’t have to think alike to love alike.” She hugged me with relief and said, “I’ve been looking for you for years… and you’re right around the corner.” I promised to meet her next Sunday morning for coffee and bring her to the service.

 

The third happened just a few hours later. Because I didn’t have to preach, I decided to stop by another local establishment to see some friends and have one more glass of wine. Shortly after I arrived, a 30-ish couple, Harold and Leann, sat at the bar near me. We chatted lightly as they ordered some unconventional cocktails, and in the “where are you from” part of our small talk, I mentioned I serve a congregation in Key West and am here for a year. That led to the inevitable “where” and “what do you believe” questions, as well as questions about how to be loving to those who don’t believe as you do. We spoke for over an hour, and they began to identify more than a couple of friends who attend a Unitarian Universalist congregation in their home town of Milwaukee. I found their friends’ congregation online and gave them the service information. At the end, Harold asked me for my card, and said “I’ll email you after our first visit.”

Evangelism isn’t difficult. People are longing to hear our good news – radical hospitality, freedom to search for truth, respect and regard for the earth and every living thing on it, space to explore and breathe and connect and do good in the world without threat of damnation. Almost by accident, I testified to our saving message to four different people, each of whom was hungry for us, searching for us, needing to hear about us. Sure, I didn’t start Saturday expecting to evangelize, but I am glad I did. I won’t know the long-term effects of these conversations, but it mattered in those moments.

What started as a silly exclamation after drinking at the pub one night turned into two major projects that I undertook at seminary.

The exclamation – interjected as a group of us at Union Theological Seminary discovered a mutual love of musical theater – was “we should do a Broadway Revue!” A few months later, we were making that silly notion a reality, and we created and produced “In the Beginning: A Broadway Revue Inspired by Genesis.” A year later, we created and produced “The Other Side” which was inspired by Exodus – complete with a three-credit course led by one of the world’s top Biblical scholars.

It was really a silly idea. We had heavy work loads, field education, other interests. Yet it sparked a creativity that would not be relegated to ‘silly idea.’

TheGoldenGirls_GroupFast forward to now: a colleague’s son is in the hospital with a sudden illness; to cheer her up, another colleague suggested we post funny/made up memories of her on Facebook. The entries were funny, sweet, and sometimes fantastical. But one of them – suggesting that they were doing a service that was replaced by a Golden Girls script – was the silliest of them all. And sparked an incredible conversation that is now leading us to create a “Thank You For Being a Friend” Sunday – coordinated worship services across the country, focused on the wonderful lessons of friendship, generosity, acceptance, worth, family, storytelling, cheesecake, and shoulder pads.

A silly idea. A REALLY silly idea. But now we’re plotting and planning and, as I experienced in the Broadway revues, feeding and being fed off others’ creativity, spirit, and yes-and attitude.

Just yesterday, I was remarking to my internship supervisor that I felt a bit exiled – not just the geographic exile of being at the end of an archipelago where the Atlantic meets the Gulf of Mexico, but also exiled from my support systems, from connections, and most of all, from my own – and others’ – creativity. Somehow being physically separated from the people who stir my creativity led me to being separated from my own.

But a silly idea has brought me back from the brink.

A silly, creative, meaningful idea that can be accomplished and activates all that I love about the creative process – collaboration, expansive thinking, inspiration – has brought me back from the brink.

Saying YES-AND to this silly idea has reminded me to say YES-AND to myself, to that which I call God, to the universe, to others, and most of all, to my call.

But it’s not just personal; as career coach Bob Proctor points out, it’s the silly ideas that are “the most stunning, spectacular concept you could possibly imagine. Something there’s an enormous market for. Something that millions of people are absolutely crying for someone to provide them with.”

Imagine what happens when we use the power of silly in our spiritual settings… we might get a raised eyebrow or two, and hear the seven deadly words “but we’ve never done it this way.” But we may often have found the most spectacular concept we could possibly imagine, something millions are absolutely crying for someone to provide them with – healing, comfort, joy, awakening, enlightenment. It happened for me, and it keeps happening.

I’m in.

Bring on the silly.

Ever since the shootings in Santa Barbara, California that sparked the powerful hashtag #YesAllWomen, I’ve been paying more attention to the so-called men’s rights movement; men who follow this perspective believe we are actually in a matriarchal society, that women have significant control over men, and that women should abdicate authority – particularly when it comes to who they date. We have seen this movement become violent, not only in Santa Barbara, but in the threats some female game designers, critics, and players have experienced in #Gamergate.

Others have written eloquently about the foundational ideas behind this movement, the personalities who are stirring up the movement, and the day-to-day anger and violence against women that this movement seems to encourage. With every article and news report, I get angrier and more frustrated. I have shaken my head in disgust so much I have a permanent crick in my neck. I have dropped my jaw in shock so much I have TMJ.

But one day, after reading profiles of Warren Farrell and Paul Elam, I began to feel something like pity and compassion. I began to wonder how we have failed these men. What did we miss in our care for them that they turned to petulant anger? What messages have we mistakenly sent to suggest that they are victims? Is it because we haven’t sufficiently addressed the issues Susan Faludi wrote about in Stiffed: The Betrayal of the American Male – the standards by which we measure men? How did we blow it? Were we not supportive enough in our classrooms and churches and extracurricular activities and home life? How did we fail them?

I have no answers; I watch what were decent, everyday men get sucked into a spiraling frustration that is fed by others. Their reasoning is circular, their reactions to women are baffling, their compulsion toward violence even more so. I know there’s some sense of a loss of privilege – but I can’t help but wonder if somewhere in our work toward equality, inclusion, and justice, we forgot to teach those with privilege how to both recognize and use their privilege to help everyone up.

In a perfect world, everyone sees the fullness of their identities, and recognizes that others’ identities do not threaten but rather enrich their own. But we’re not there. I pray every day that one more man who’s sucked into this destructive movement gets what he needs to see his own inherent worth – and everyone else’s. And I pray we are there to help them, not give them reasons to stay in a cycle of anger.

For much of my adult life, I’ve been a consciously sexual being. I recognize in myself an enjoyment of the human body – mine and others – and have had a number of satisfying (and a few unsatisfying) sexual relationships. I love that part of our being human that makes us both sexual and aware of our sexuality. I love that we get, as they say, warm for another’s form. Even when I am single, like I am now, I enjoy flirting, feeling sexual and sensual, dwelling in desire and passion. I love performing with a bit of sexual sparkle (as I did in the UTS drag show last year). And I absolutely love that we teach healthy sexuality to all ages in the Our Whole Lives curriculum.

dragshow2014-closeupIn other words, sex is pretty awesome and a celebrated part of who I am.

Thus I’m finding it awfully unnerving to be in a space where there is no passion, no attraction, no feeling of sensuality or sexuality, no desire to be sensual or sexual. This just isn’t me. I’m not asexual. I’m not cold or unmoved. So it’s been odd.

I’m keenly aware that a number of things may be contributing to this: I’ve been stressed in my work and home life (both of which have just recently released their anxious grip). I am in that wonderful stage of a woman’s life known as peri-menopause (Lord, help me to hold out / until my change comes!). There is a distinct lack of interested parties within 3,200 miles of me – including myself. Before now, I could overcome lack of partner or lack of peace and still get in touch with my sexual core, but right now, I’m feeling like a dud.

This is typically the place where I would spiral into negative self-esteem – no one will ever love me, I’m utterly unattractive, there’s something wrong with me, I’m officially a broken mess. If I can’t be wholly whole, then I am completely broken.

But now, this is where my faith steps in – a faith that says we can never be completely whole, because then we wouldn’t be human. A faith that says its in the cracks where the light gets in. A faith that says there is space for all the ways I am.

Except that for a long time, I wondered if I was too sexual for this path, too expressive with my passion and enjoyment to be the perfect pastor. Even through three OWL training weekends, I wondered if my personal enjoyment was inappropriate despite a clear call for some to be healthy sexuality religious professionals.

And then I met a colleague, Dawn, at General Assembly in Providence, whose energy connected to mine (and we became fast friends), whose queerness of both gender and preference is intriguing and delightful, whose fierce work in sexuality is inextricably connected to their call, which makes them come alive and evoke aliveness in others. Dawn showed me that all the facets of who I am – artist, nerd, extrovert, brain, geek, sexual being – make me the minister I am called to be.

Even now, when I’m not feeling it. And I mean, I’m really not feeling it. I can’t even fake feeling it right now.

But I am still a sexual being. And an artist, and a nerd, and an extrovert, and a brain, and a geek. All at once, and in different measure at different times.

So what if I’m not feeling sexual right now. It’s okay. I’m still whole and healthy and worthy.

 

Last Monday at our weekly Theology on Tap gathering, we discussed death. Cheery topic, I know, but we had a wonderful conversation about funerals, memorial services, preparing wills and other documents, and how we perceive our own impending deaths.

Someone mentioned the idea of living each day as if it were your last, and another considered the idea of living each day as if it were your first. Somewhere in the middle of it we talked about our bucket lists – things we want to do before we die. Someone said he was writing a history of his life so that his close descendants could look back and see that dad had done things he wanted to do.

Now I have joked a time or two about a bucket list, but I realized at that gathering that if I had a list, there are a number of things that would already be crossed off it. And more – there are things that other people might wish were on my list, but I know don’t belong there at all. Does anyone know some of the things I’ve done – that I wanted to do? Does anyone know why there are things I haven’t done and am okay with?

It seems to me that we keep looking ahead with longing, or back with regret. But this kind of assessment lets us look at our lives with some sense of connection to who we are and where we’re headed. I want someone to know that not only did I not have kids, but I was fine with it. I want someone to know that I’d always wanted to live in NYC and go to grad school and I got to do both at the same time. I want someone to know big and little things have happened in my life that are pretty cool. I want someone – besides me – to know something about me.

We don’t know when we will kick the bucket. I hope it’s a long time from now, but just in case… here’s a quick list of some notable things I have gotten to do and have chosen not to do, and few things I still hope to do. Just in case.

Things I’ve wanted to do, that I did (even if I didn’t realize it was something I wanted to do until I did it):

  • Live in New York City
  • Live and work on a tropical island
  • Travel to the Channel Islands
  • Fall in love and live with a partner (it’s been a while, but I did it)
  • Finish my bachelors
  • Get a graduate degree
  • Discover where I belong spiritually
  • Organize a protest
  • Organize a voter-registration drive
  • Present a paper at an academic conference
  • Direct and perform on Broadway (accomplished on a technicality – I directed and performed at Union Theological Seminary, which is on Broadway and 121st)
  • Preach to over 150 people
  • Meet some heroes: Rita Mae Brown, Z Budapest, Starhawk, Marilynne Robinson, Bill Moyers, Harry Belafonte, Harvey Fierstein, Carly Simon, Lee Smith, Kaye Gibbons, Ysaye Barnwell
  • Sing for someone well known (Carter Heyward is a giant in feminist theology and I got to sing to her at her partner’s memorial service)
  • Get paid to act
  • Get paid to do comedy
  • Get a standing ovation
  • Be a redhead

 

Things that were never on a bucket list (and I’m perfectly okay with that):

  • Have kids
  • Own a house
  • Marry my high school sweetheart
  • Run a race of any sort
  • Go to the top of any building or tower

 

Things that still exist on the bucket list:

  • Be ordained
  • Figure out the answer to just one of life’s big questions
  • Conduct a wedding
  • Be able to support myself doing my arts ministry
  • Retire to the Channel Islands
  • Visit New Zealand and Australia
  • Be my ideal weight – just once, please?
  • Get Lasix surgery
  • Pay off my student loans
  • Play Mame and Dolly
  • Meet my grand-nieces and grand-nephews
  • Write a book
  • Meet one more hero: Stephen Fry