Religious Freedom Restoration Act: Cassandraism

Since the country is in an uproar about religious freedom, I thought it would be appropriate for me to start a new religion.  I think I'll call it Cassandraism.  Cassandraism has but one central tenet:  Stupidity is anathema.  It would be bad to say that stupid people are little more than dingleberries on the butthole of humanity, and need to be eradicated at all costs, so I won't do that.  I will say that Cassandraism maintains that stupidity is a choice.  This has nothing to do with intellectual aptitude or cognitive prowess; the stupidity considered to be anathema by Cassandraism is the simple lack of, or failure to exercise, common sense.

For instance, Cassandraism will not approach a group of people who are attempting to abstain from their attachment to food and then coerce them to attend a banquet.  It won't pretend to honor people by making them pay for tickets and then seat them in general seating while reserving a dais for people who are not honorees.  In Cassandraism, when people do eat, they will will be trained to give thanks before doing so. 

Cassandraism considers the "Religous Freedom Restoration Act" to be one of a myriad of social phenomena which show a lack of common sense.  Of course everyone in America gets religious freedom.  Yes, that freedom even allows us to discriminate.  It does NOT, however, allow anyone to freely peddle that discrimination in public.  We live in a world where people are different from us.  

I happen to believe fervently and sincerely in the Gospel of Jesus Christ.  I don't happen to believe that Gospel needs me to capriciously shove it down people's throats, any more than I want, say, Scientologists proselytizing to me.  So we sort of accept the idea that we'll adopt some common rules that allow us all to get along together.  I can share my faith with you privately or in mutually-agreed-upon settings.  It's sorta like driving.  You can get on a private road or a specially designated roadway and do whatever you want, but on a public road there are rules you have to obey.  I personally don't like the fact that I have to slow down for people who drive 45 mph in the left lane; I think the world would be a better place if I could run everyone off the road who uses a passing lane as a travel lane.  But I abide by the rules of the road.

So it is with this Religious Freedom thing.  If you serve a god who demands that you consider and judge other people's sexuality as a prerequisite to social interaction with them, you have every right to do that.  You don't however, have the right to be out in public among civilized people, because that's not a civilized thought.  First of all, if someone else's sexuality is a significant factor in your religious practices, you probably either need to ask them for a date or go find a good therapist.  And if your judgement of their sexuality is a prerequisite to your being able to do business with them, I'd vote for that therapist...

Whatever the case, you get to believe and behave, within commonly accepted guidelines, any way you want.  But  you need to understand that all the people who don't believe or behave the way you do have just as many rights to their beliefs and behaviors as you -- sort of like how the person driving 45 mph in the left hand lane has just as much right to be there as I do, even though I'm going 80.

Now the rules of the highway say that people going at different speeds travel in different lanes, so they don't collide.  These are some of those commonly accepted guidelines, sort of like the speed limit.  It's an attempt to create a fairly common space on the highway -- those who need to go fast can do so; those who want to go slower can do so, but everyone moves ahead.

When you want to evaluate someone's sexuality before doing business with them, or if someone wanted to sacrifice a goat or a chicken before doing business with them, or if someone needed to do a coupla peyote buttons before doing business with others -- I suppose they could, but such actions are the equivalent of causing traffic jams, or cluttering up the common space on the highway.  They are not acceptable actions or behaviors in a diverse public area.  It's sort of like the religions that don't allow unrelated males and females to touch.  Such prohibitions simply do not work in a diverse society, so they need to either be modified, suspended, or abandoned when in the public arena.

Basically, Indiana, you don't get to do whatEVER you want to do.  You have to stop and think about other people. I know it's a difficult concept, especially if you believe your actions are Divinely justified.  And while God doesn't really need your help, if you're intent on representing God, well, Holy Thursday is coming up soon.  Why not go to your local homeless shelter and have a footwashing service? Not comfortable with that action?  Then why not start by doing things Jesus said, like feeding the sheep?  Why not feed the hungry, clothe the naked, or house the homeless?  From what I understand, Jesus spent a good deal of time with people with all kinds of sexual backgrounds, yet He never once turned them away.  Who are you to do that?

You want a Religious Freedom Restoration Act?  Start where Jesus did, feed the hungry and clothe the naked.  Start there.

The Demise of Parenthood

Parenthood, NBC's comfortably cozy series about the Braverman family, has ended after six years.  In one of those internet pseudo-magazines, Craig T. Nelson (who portrayed Zeke Braverman, the clan’s patriarch) is said to have been unhappy about the series ending.  (I had to read the article to understand that “ending” in this sentence was a verb and not a noun.) 

Mr. Nelson was unhappy that the series had to end.  While I share that sentiment (a bit more on that later), I am not at all unhappy with the way it ended.  Attempting not to spoil it for those who may not have seen it, I will simply say that what I saw was a celebration of life – its continuity, its ups and downs, and a testimony to the fact that, as long as we hold our loved ones in our hearts and memories, they live in our lives and in our love.
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Those are the sorts of comfortable, cozy sentiments that made up much of Parenthood.  Yes, there was actual and potential infidelity; a couple of out of wedlock children; some substance abuse; there were family members and loved ones whose social abilities or sexual orientations were what some would call different – there were most of the myriad of issues and concerns normally seen in society, but they were all painted on a canvas of the family unit.  The Bravermans became a multiracial family.  Some may say that multiracialism was “whitewashed;” I would offer that it was simply subordinate to the theme of family. 

Which is why it’s so sad the story ended.  Dax Shepard, who played Crosby, the Braverman’s younger son, who began to walk into both manhood, fatherhood, and “husbandhood” over the last six years – Dax Shepard tweeted “Tonight is the series finale of Parenthood.  Best 6 years of my life J let’s all watch and try to equal the viewership of a kardshian rerun.”  I thought that tweet was quite powerful, as it summed up why it’s so sad the story ended.  We talk about all that’s wrong with entertainment, and all that’s wrong with our society, and all the negative influences.  Yet, when a good, wholesome show comes along, one with lovable characters, one that advocates love of family – when a good old fashioned, G-rated tv show comes on, what do most Americans do?  They turn to a show called “Scandal.”  Now I can’t pretend to know what “Scandal” is about, because I’ve never watched it.  But a quick check of its wiki shows that the main character is someone who’s having an affair with a politician.  I’m sorry – can someone explain why I’d want to watch a show about this when I don’t even watch the news?  And if this is the sort of stuff that’s in our news, why are we fantasizing about it?  Wouldn’t it be more productive to expend our psychic and spiritual energy on more positive things?

This is nothing against the writer, Shonda Rhimes.  I’m a tremendous fan of Grey’s Anatomy; not so big a fan of its spinoff, Private Practice, which was essentially a breeding ground for affairs of former Grey’s Anatomy characters.  Thankfully, that series (Private Practice) was short-lived.  I thought its short life sent a message that people preferred Ms. Rhimes’ more wholesome writing – and then I saw the Scandal ads, followed shortly by “How to Get Away with Murder.”  Why would anyone other than a criminal want to watch something with that name?  While I think Ms. Rhimes is brilliantly talented, I prefer positivity.  And never having watched “Scandal” or “How to Get Away with Murder,” I can’t definitely say they’re not positive.  What I can say is that their titles destroy any potential interest I may have had in the writer’s skills.

I can’t fail to mention the fact that “Scandal” and “How to Get Away with Murder” have almost cult-like followings.  The viewers call themselves gladiators – I don’t know what else they do to distinguish themselves – but seeing so many people galvanized behind these programs simply calls to mind the saying that “the devil doesn’t come dressed in a red suit with a pitchfork and a spiked tail.  The devil comes dressed as everything you’ve ever wanted.”

When we salivate over “Scandal” and “How to Get Away With Murder,” or when we’d rather be Scandalized than to contemplate the joys of Parenthood, I can’t help but wonder if the devil is sitting in a corner somewhere laughing?  In the interest of full disclosure, I am a "The Haves and the Have Nots" junkie.  I won't attempt to rationalize it here (although I do it in my head at least once a week);  I will simply say that the characters in The Haves and the Have Nots are human with human frailties, and also display the same dramatic and corrupt inclinations as others.  I continue to watch the Haves and the Have Nots because there is an underlying theme of hope and redemption, and because it gives open tribute to my own Christian faith tradition.

So. Back to Parenthood.   The way the storyline ended was, in my opinion, very skillfully done, and left the viewer with appreciation and celebration for the gift of family.  The cessation of the series, though, leaves me so, so sad.  I’m not sad only because a great series is no longer on the air (I have over 30 episodes on DVR); I’m sad because my thought is that its departure from our tv screens represents another departure, which is the  departure from our consciousness  of the strength, power , and sanctity of the family unit.  That family unit may not look the same in this generation as it did in generations past; family is who you say it is.  It’s the bond, the everlasting family bond that’s important.  In a world that wants to get away with murder, in a world that’s looking for the next good scandal, I fear we’ve overlooked the essentials -- the ties that bond us together, the things we celebrate and hold sacred, the relationships that make life worth living.  It's not about the drama, the scandal, or how to get away with murder.  After all, those are sort of "first-world" issues.  What's essential are some very common human themes -- love of family, the bond of friendship, and the trials and tribulations of parenthood.  All these relationships (Family, Friendship, and Parenthood) may look different today than they did a generation ago;  my definition of them may look different than yours, but they are relationships to which nearly all human beings can relate and which are cherished by nearly all human beings.

And that’s why Parenthood’s ending is such a sad occasion to me.  

Salaam, y'all

It was about 1 am on the morning of January 16, 2015.  I had literally been in the house less than five minutes when I started getting text messages, then Facebook Messenger messages.  I was just returning from a few days in Atlanta where I’d attended a Pastors’ Conference and visited friends and loved ones.  I wasn’t in the mood to spoil the temporary high, and so ignored the communications.

When I finally got up this afternoon, there were emails and Facebook posts about it.  The issue, it seems, is that my alma mater, Duke University, made a decision to allow the adhan, or the Muslim call to prayer, to be broadcast from the Duke Chapel Bell Tower, and then apparently bowed to political pressure and decided NOT to allow it.  I’ll admit that my first reaction was:  “wait a minute.  This is a Christian school.  Shouldn’t they be calling Christians to prayer?”  And while I am still of that opinion, that opinion doesn’t conflict with allowing the adhan.

If you know me, you know that I always thought I’d be a Yalie, and that Duke, one of my safety schools, offered a very prestigious scholarship which included a summer of study at Oxford in England.  While that did kinda trump Yale’s offer, there were two other considerations in my decision to attend Duke:  1) it was close to home and my grandparents were getting old (they would both die my freshman year); and 2) it was a Methodist school.  While I could hardly have been called devout during college, I had been trained well as a child:  one semester my studies included Modern Greek, Old Testament, and Religion and Theology of Black America (I remember tracing the history of the CME Church for that class).  I had no clear interest, desire or intent to pursue religious studies at the time; I’d fulfilled the requirements for my major, was working on a second major, and was simply taking interesting elective courses in other areas.  My running from the very obvious call on my life is another story.  The point is that, no matter the details of my wayward living, I was comfortable in the atmosphere of eruditio et religio, or erudition and religion, which is the motto of Duke University.

So my knee-jerk reaction was, “this is a Christian school.  Why are we doing an adhan?”  As I consider what I know of Islam, I don’t see the theological barriers to allowing the adhan.  Muslims, Mormons, Jehovah’s Witnesses and Universalists all are descended from the Arian way of thinking, and all have issues with the Divinity of Jesus.  If we wouldn’t bar the latter three, why bar the Muslims?  Yes, they are a different religion, but we are calling people to PRAYER!! Muslims, like Christians and Jews, are all spiritual descendants of Abraham.  Can we not come together in that unity?  This isn’t proselytism; it’s a call to prayer.  We are all People of the Book.  How can we deny our theological cousins the opportunity to pray?  While they call Him by the Name of Allah, we are all praying to the same God; how can we not allow people to be called to That God in prayer?

If you've ever been to a Muslim country and been roused from a sound sleep by the call to prayer, you know two things:  1) they can seem a bit disruptive at first, but 2) they represent a faith tradition that is VERY serious about its prayer life.  If you're like me, it led to 3) a re-examination of your commitment to your own prayer life.  When I hear the 5 am adhan, do I grumble, pull the covers over my head, and try to get a few more zzzs, or do I at least whisper a silent prayer instead of getting out of my warm bed and getting on my knees?  What about when I hear the 6:30 am call, or the 11:47 am call?  No?  How about the 2:30 or 4:30 pm call?  How about the 6:30 pm call?  This is a call to prayer, and while the call does bear witness to Muhammad as the messenger of God, the text of these calls begins and ends by stating that "God is the Greatest," and that "I bear witness that there is no God but God."  ("Allah" is simply the Arabic word for God.  It does not refer to a different divine being.  Arabic-Speaking Christians also sang and proclaimed "Allahu Akhbar," meaning "God is Great," while we were in a Christian worship service togther.)  The call goes on to call people to Hasten to Worship, and to Hasten to Success, encouraging them that Prayer is better than sleep, and then end by repeating the phases at the beginning, that God is the Greatest, and that there is no God but God.  How awesome would it be for every believer of the Abrahamic tradition, whether Christian, Muslim, or Jewish, to listen to, meditate upon, and perhaps be moved by these affirmations?!?  I do not believe Mohammad to be a messenger of God, so that piece is a bone upon which I would not feast.  But to have an audible reminder of the rest broadcast throughout campus would, I believe, have been a wonderful opportunity.  Handled appropriately, it could have been an opportunity for the campus to regularly call EVERYONE to prayer, something I'd bet money does not presently happen.

Somewhere along the way, I think many wonderful opportunities have been lost.  I happen not to agree with those who think this is an opportunity for Duke to continue its tradition of religious pluralism (only because that term is increasingly associated with some sort of theologically bastardized, non-offensive, spiritually impotent Frankenmonster).  Duke was founded, and I hope it continues its identity, as a Christian school, specifically a Methodist one.  The missed opportunity as I see it is the opportunity to see, learn, and understand that within Christianity there is not isolation, but inclusion.  The missed opportunity is the opportunity to see Jesus the Christ as one who came to tear down barriers imposed by traditional religious practices.  The missed opportunity is to see that this same Jesus spoke of “sheep who are not of this fold,” and, especially in light of our own Sacred Texts,  to consider who those sheep may be.  The missed opportunity is the opportunity to dialogue with people who love God but have differing Christologies. Refusing to allow the adhan at Duke represents a missed opportunity for interreligious dialogue, exploration, and learning.   

There is a missed opportunity for those who follow Jesus to provide hospitality to the non-Christian (“the stranger”) within our gates.  There is a missed opportunity for Christians to be exposed to an incredibly beautiful prayer call, and perhaps for Christians at Duke to become more regular and/or more intentional in their own Christian prayer practices.  (I recently posted video of a call to salaat that I filmed in Jerusalem.  It is hauntingly beautiful.)  While I understand the reported threats to the Muslim population, I believe that refusing to allow the adhan demonstrates rejection of the knowledge that perfect Love casts out fear, and a missed opportunity to walk proudly in conviction rather than bend to political or financial pressures.

But mostly, and most sadly,  the missed opportunity is one to show the world a Jesus with a heart filled with love and arms outstretched to welcome all who would draw nearer to God.

Arius the Converted Presbyterian

So I’m grading papers for church history.  The question is on the 4^th Century Arian-Nicene controversy, where the matter of the nature of Christ was hotly debated.  A student writes that Arius “switched his faith to Presbyterianism,” a statement so absurd I can barely speak it without laughing.  Not only is it historically impossible (Arius lived in Egypt in the late third/early fourth century; Presbyterianism evolved from the Protestant Reformation, specifically having been crafted in the mid-16^th century in Scotland.), but it’s clearly a malapropism.  Arius was a presbyter, or church official.  Probably because they were rushing to get a paper done, possibly because they didn't understand the material -- for whatever reason, the student clearly associated the word “presbyter” with the “Presbyterian” denomination.

So Arius “switching his faith to Presbyterianism” was my joke for the day, until I realized it’s not at all funny.  As I spoke with the student (who balked at failing the exam and insisted I’d told them all they needed to do in order to pass was to footnote properly – which, of course, they didn’t do) as I spoke with the student I realized their focus was not on learning anything, nor on gaining any perspective, but solely on the grade they were to receive.

Which led me to wonder how many “preachers,” for whatever reason, fail to completely understand what they read and/or study?  How many, instead of learning an appropriate historical context, simply make stuff up?  When one considers the possibilities, Arius the Presbyterian is no longer humorous, but dangerous.  How many other absurdities come out of our mouths while in the pulpit?

The Arian-Nicene controversy had, at its core, concerns about the nature of Jesus.  Arius the Converted Presbyterian speaks to the nature of those who would preach the Gospel – are you truly filled with the Holy Spirit?  Has God truly inspired you to speak that Word, or does it simply “sound good,” or have a hook that “will preach?”  Does it in some other way appeal to our human senses, rather than to our spiritual realities?  Are you bringing us a Word from the Lord, or just telling us what you think or feel?

Arius’ thoughts about Christ (that the Logos was of a similar substance or homoiousia as God) were pronounced anathema, then accepted, then finally pronounced anathema by most Christians (although Mormons, Unitarians, Jehovah’s Witnesses, Oneness Pentecostals (and a few of our Baptist brothers and sisters, if they are honest) still cling to the thought of two separate natures of Christ, or something other than “Fully human, fully Divine.”)  From those who considered Arius’ thoughts anathema, the Presbyterian church would evolve over a thousand years later.  In class, we like to point out that the Arian controversy went on for centuries, and at its core, the two factions were separated by an iota.  The fundamental difference was whether God and the Logos were of the Same substance (homo ousia) or a Similar substance (homoi ousia). 

As I look around and see more and more preachers performing inside the walls of their churches, and see more and people who are bound up by hunger and drugs and other forms of oppression (almost exclusively OUTSIDE the walls of the churches), I can’t help but wonder if their methods and actions will ultimately be considered orthodox or anathema.  I wonder about the power of the English letter "I" to keep the preachers separated from delivering the Good News to those who hunger and thirst for it?

Who knows? Perhaps they will all consubstantiate (or be sacramentally united) within Arius, the converted Presbyterian…

What I'm Eating Now

This is sorta random; a bit too long for a FB post, but something I want to document.  I've taken to using this blog as a de facto public electronic journal, so this posting is in that vein.

As I continue on the journey to optimum health and weight, I've finally enterado (or enterrado adentro*) the fact that results are as much about the fuel we put into the body as they are a reflection of the work we do with it.

So I'm probably in the process of upping my workouts to upwards of 8 hrs/week.  It's not just about the body; when I'm in classes, there's a constant struggle to exceed previously imposed limits.  That's as much mental as it is physical.  When I'm in the water or lifting, there's a focus, a clarity, and singularity of purpose that I welcome, even crave, but for which I find less and less time in this modern world full of distractions.

"...said the distracted woman."  Getting back to the point:  My weight and body fat are starting to move towards manageability, and not at the expense of my muscle mass.  I'm working out more, and am usually famished by the end of a two-hour session.  I've learned to carry bananas and yogurt for that quick fix, but need to have fast, healthy food on hand for when I get home.  Otherwise, I'd probably just do seamless, El Aguila, or some fast food chain, most of which would just defeat the purpose of having been in the gym.

When the weather's warm, I try to always have a big salad on hand, but I like to prep my food for the week, and am not very adept at storing cut veggies.  And if the salad's not pretty and fresh, I won't eat it, so tryna make a big salad doesn't always work.

I was surfing some vegan website recently and came across something that gave me the idea for my new staple food, which is what this post is about.  It's nutritious, quick, easy, and tasty, and I can make a big batch of it for the week.  It's basically greens and beans with some complex carbs thrown in.  The list of ingredients was originally just stuff I had in the fridge and needed to eat before it went bad; I spoze you could tweak this any way you want.

My pots always start with lots of garlic and onions.  I saute them in some EVOO, and add peppers, shallots -- whatever I have.  Then I add the greens.  First time around I think I used collards and kale, but tonite it was collards and spinach.  Remembering my friends in Brazil, I wash my bunches of greens, bunch or roll them up, and then slice or julienne the rolls, so I end up with strips of greens. I'm not chopping them, I'm slicing them horizontally across the leaves.  So I have this big mixture of collards and spinach, which I mix together again while washing again, and then add to the sauteing onions.   (I save part of the greens for making my Nutriblasts during the week, and find that cutting them cut into strips makes it a lot easier to get other stuff into the bullet.  But that's another digression.)

So we have onions/garlic and greens sauteing.  Last week I used some leftover cooked brown rice in this thing.  I was thinking that quinoa would be a better option, and this week decided to try some Goya product that is a quinoa/brown rice mixture.  While it serves the purpose, it is prepared food, and as such has way too much salt for my taste (another distracting aside:  when did salt become a food group rather than a taste enhancer?  What is it with putting salt on EVERY. FREAKING. THING?  Can we distinguish no taste but "salty?").  While the greens were sauteing, I prepared the quinoa/brown rice mixture mostly according to the package instructions, although I tend to add a bit more water because I don't like my quinoa too hard.  After the quinoa cooks, you're spozed to let it sit for a few minutes. During that time, I added the black beans to the greens, and when it had finished sitting, the quinoa mix.

It was so good I had to write a blog post about it.  As I said, it's quick, it's tasty, and I can now put it in the fridge for the rest of the week. If I want meat, I can add some of that leftover turkey; if I don't want meat, I can eat it as is.  When I come home hungry, all I need to do is nuke it a coupla minutes, and I have my green leafies, my complete protein, and my complex carbs.  That's worth writing about.,

And on that lovely note, my friends, I am turning in....


*"Enterar" is "to learn," but "enterrar" is "to bury."  At some point I've come to associate the notion of complete learning with "enterrando adentro," or "burying something inside yourself."  Not sure if it's an idiomatic expression or if I've mis-heard something and created my own malapropism.

Where Does It End?

The following article was written in August 2014 and published as a general submission in the August 2014 edition of 
"The Christian Index, The Official Organ of the Christian Methodist Episcopal Church."
The expressed opinions are my own and not those of the CME Church.

While they are horrific, it's not just the constant killings of unarmed black men that's the problem. It's the consistent, systematic devaluation of the black person in American society. That's the problem. As unpopular as this position may be, I think a large part of that problem begins with us.  The internal forces that tear us apart: black on black crime, lack of education, spiritual malaise, complacency regarding social inequity - those forces leave us, as a people, weakened and an easy target for the external forces that would destroy us.  When we refer to our females as dogs and garden tools, and when our males kill one another over a misdirected glance, what message do we send about the value we place on our own black lives? When we constantly assault and fill our senses with messages of black people as lawless gangsters and thugs, what message do we deliver about the value of our black lives?  If we place no value on black lives, and if we are not collectively appalled and called to action by the non-publicized atrocities that occur in our communities EVERY DAY, then how much integrity is in our protests when an outsider defiles or murders one of our own? Have we not done or tolerated the same thing on a regular basis?

In no way is the intent here to blame the victims, nor to justify, minimize nor diminish the state of siege under which Americans of color often find themselves.  Rather, I am suggesting that people of color need not always assume the attitude of victim, no matter the external circumstances.  I’m suggesting we begin to recognize and avail ourselves of the existing opportunities in a society that revolves around power. We as a people HAVE power, but we give it away bit by bit, leaving ourselves open to be ravaged by those who can or simply will do so.  America, for the most part, is driven by economics.  African-Americans are projected to have a collective buying power upwards of $1,000,000,000,000 – one TRILLION dollars – in 2015.  Yet corporate advertisers spend little time, money, or effort marketing to the African American community – they know they’ll get their share of that money whether they advertise to that market or not. They know our collective memory is short:  we filled the streets protesting the Trayvon Martin injustice, but still flocked to Florida’s shores for vacations and continue to drink its orange juice for our breakfast.  We know that people who neither know nor care about our communities control the corporations that produce the media which  projects negative stereotypes of our community, but we download the tracks, buy the CDs, sing the songs, and go to the movies, anyway.  As long as we fail to use our collective strength, we send the message to others that all is well and there is no reason to change.  Why should an advertiser pay for a share of the African American market if statistics show they will likely get a share of it without even acknowledging African Americans in their marketing?  When the taking of black lives is met with the collective strength of the black community, perhaps then we will see some sustained change.  Why is it that the shootings in Norwalk, CT precipitated Congressional hearings, but the genocide in our communities is ignored?  When there is a connection between the taking of black lives and the deprivation of the collective black buying power, I believe a shift will begin to occur. 

“Why do ‘they’ do it?” doesn’t seem to be the question.  “Why do we allow it to continue?” or “How do we stop this?” seem more appropriate questions.  I’m concerned about a continual outward gaze in our communities.  I’m concerned that when injustice against us is exposed, that we always look to the oppressors (as if somehow they could be expected to behave any way other than oppressively).  Why must we wait until tragedy happens before we act, and why must we only focus our attention outward, at the injustices that have been committed against us?  This question in no way minimizes the specific tragedies that occur far too often; the question attempts to get at a larger issue.  What steps can we, as followers of Christ and as people of color, take to affirm the sanctity of black life?  What changes can we make in our pulpits?  In our Sunday Schools?  In our economic endeavors?   In our Local, State, and National politics?

As a resident of major urban center, I am routinely infuriated not only with racism, but with the hypocrisy and ignorance that accompany it.  Born and bred in the rural south, racism has always been a fact of my life; it's a system one attempts to learn to navigate, with the hope of ultimately dismantling or overthrowing it. Racism was there when we were the first kids in town integrating an elementary school. But the love, the pride and the support we got in our homes and our communities was SO much more powerful than the racists, even when they attacked our homes in the middle of the night, and even when they physically confronted us. No, everyone didn't live through the skirmishes and the physical confrontations, but when one person occasionally fell, others sprang up to take their place. We were a people united -- we couldn't be defeated.  When we thought we couldn’t stand, the wisdom, knowledge, and strength of our community supported us. We thought of ourselves as trees planted by the waters, and we would not be moved. 

I'm not minimizing the wrong others do, nor the effects thereof.  I have come to believe that it is not the goal of people of color to attempt to change others’ racist views.  It is the goal of people of color to instill and reinforce the truth among ourselves, despite what the dominant culture may think.  It is the business of people of color to acknowledge, affirm, and act to honor the sanctity of ALL our lives.  Racists will say and do racist things; that’s their nature. But others’ racism need not define us.   Attention should not be called to the plight of people of color in the US only when a wrong is committed against a person of color; that is a form of giving away our power. Rather, people of color would be well served to systematically and routinely celebrate our rich heritage; our many accomplishments; our communally undergirding, if disparate, faith traditions; and our nearly superhuman progress by surviving and thriving in a strange land.  We would be well served to move forward continuing to build on that foundation.  We as a people have so much to celebrate, so much to be thankful for!!  We have myriad reasons to march and celebrate without atrocities being committed, and reasons come together on one accord other than when something horrible has happened.  I'm looking to see more of the right we do for ourselves. I think that's a better place to start, and not reactively, not necessarily proactively, but simply because we love ourselves that much. 

A Gift

It was late summer, 2003.  I’d just had a party celebrating my new coop, graduation from seminary, and another birthday.  One of my dreams in NYC was to live near green grass and trees, in a doorman building.  Not only did I get that, but this place was catty-corner from a park that had a SWIMMING POOL!!! There was only one logical course of action:  to go there and swim.

Whether normal or note, massaging the breasts when changing is an habitual, and possibly life-saving act for me.  I’d had the routine mammogram several years earlier when I turned forty, but found it so painful that I vowed never to go through it again.  But here I was 7 years later and there was something in my booby that didn’t feel right.

It took three weeks to get an appointment for a mammogram, even with a lump.  I think I saw a surgeon during that time; I remember picking her because her name was Faith.  While she thought the wait a bit unusual, she reassured me that it was “probably nothing,” and that 3 weeks were not likely to make a difference if it did turn out to be something.

It did, of course, turn out to be something.  There was a cancer growing in my breast, one that required two or three surgeries just to get it all with good margins, another two surgeries to get I think the sentinel node and then all the lymph nodes; and a fifth (unsuccessful) surgery to attempt to implant a PICC line for me to receive chemo.  I ended up getting the chemo with a new IV stick every other week for six months, followed by six weeks of daily radiation therapy (one dose, they said, was equivalent to spending a week at the beach), followed by five years of oral chemotherapy.  During treatment, I lost my taste for all food except watermelon, mango, and pineapple; I lost every follicle of hair on my body;  I learned that yes, I can get dry heaves; and I learned that sometimes you have to take your medicine.  I learned that breast cancer is the only one for which there is no “cure;”  other cancers are considered to be in remission after 5 years, but breast cancer is equally likely to return at any time.

During my treatment, two coworkers were diagnosed with cancer, both after me. One was diagnosed also with breast cancer and ended up with a radical double mastectomy; another was diagnosed with stomach cancer and subsequently died. A cousin who had struggled with breast cancer for years also died during this time.  All three of these women had offered love, care, and support to me upon my diagnosis, none of us knowing they would experience outcomes far more severe than mine.

At first diagnosis, I was really mad with God. “What happened?!?”  I screamed as I punched a wall.  “I’m spozed to be your girl! How can you do this?!?!”   At that point, the sacrifice of Jesus was brought to my remembrance.  “Yeah, but I’m not Jesus.  I’m me, and I don’t do the whole pain and suffering thing well.  You KNOW that.”  And then I was gently reminded that “Pain is inevitable, but suffering is optional.”  I decided right then that I didn’t want to suffer.  So I didn’t.

All the above is background.  People often remark on my joie de vivre, my zest for life.  While I don’t choose to advertise it, my life is probably about as bland and as normal as anyone else’s, jumping out of planes and ziplining through the rainforest notwithstanding.  I’m always aware that each day could be my last – not necessarily from the cancer, but because I live in NY City.  But at some point during the months of surgeries and chemotherapy, I wrestled with questions about quality of life.  Is it worth it to be brought literally to the point of death and kept there for a while to kill a parasitic mutant inside your body?  Or is it perhaps better to live each day to the fullest, and be prepared to go Home whenever one is called?

I suppose the answer is a matter of personal preference.  I don’t know that I’d choose to go through chemotherapy again; if a more aggressive form of cancer were to return, the likelihood of my undergoing the regimen would likely decrease.  I say that, but at the same time, I’m very careful to maintain top shelf health insurance, just in case I need it.

All of which is hypothetical.  Though I'm not very good at it, I do try to live in the moment.  I'm a bit better at my attempts to live as healthily as I can (I’m not rigid and there are no absolutes; but it’s a lifestyle that actively embraces life). I recognize each day as a precious gift from God, and attempt to make the most of it.  I recognize that, even in the midst of physical, spiritual, psychological, emotional, financial, romantic, or any other kind of mess into which I could conceivably get myself – in the midst of all that, at the center of all that, is a God who is working things out, and through Whom all things work together for my good, given that I love Him and am responding to the call according to His purpose. 

There’s a lot to unpack there.  In a nutshell, sometimes the things I want don’t work out because they’re not the things to which God has called me.  And sometimes the most bizarre seeds get planted in my head or elsewhere and work out in equally unlikely ways, ways that could only, in retrospect, have been orchestrated by God. 

Like being ecstatically happy, then finding you have cancer,  and then leading worship in the midst of treatment, finding a way to encourage the kids who are freaked out by your bald head.  And though I’m not a fan of tats, I thought it was interesting that one of the kids decided to get the words “Trust God” as his first tattoo.  I like to think they’ve seen me trust even in the midst of uncertainty, and that they are able to trust a bit, themselves.  I’m not naturally a very trusting person; only an omnipotent God could use me to exemplify trust to a child.

But that’s the gift.  It is a gift to be used fully and completely, to pour oneself out in the doing of God’s work, not because of some expectation of reward in this life or in the life to come, but simply because one has been afforded the privilege to do so.  This thing we call life is a gift, and to live it to the honor and glory of God is quite the privilege.  And though I regularly fall miserably short of the mark, I’m quite grateful for the gift.  

Final Full Day in Costa Rica

Today was my final full day in Costa Rica.  Today is May Day, and Danny, a tour guide, went to downtown San Jose to be in a parade with other workers, including his fellow tour guides.  I slept in, as did Sophi, who didn’t have to work today.

So about 10:15 we headed to the hotel where expediciones tropicales was to pick me up.  We chatted about the fact that yesterday when Danny dropped me off, he’d met her old friend.  But we thought she wouldn’t be working today, so Sophi dropped me off and I went inside.  The friend was, of course, at the desk.  I called and texted Sophi “can you please come back to the hotel?!?”  I didn’t tell her why.

She showed up in a few minutes and I waved her inside.  She laid eyes on her friend (her former best friend with whom she hadn’t spent time in several years), and they started hugging and celebrating.  It was great!!

At that moment, of course, the driver showed up, and we took off.  We did manage to stop by the wall and take pictures of the sign that says “Antes de ser viejo y sabio, hay que ser joven y estupido” (Before you can be old and wise, you have to be young and stupid).  So I got that picture and we took off through San Jose.  Got a couple of shots of the ever-present McDonald’s ads (I don’t think I’ve been anywhere in the world without seeing at least one of the following: the Golden Arches, McDonald’s, or Burger King.  All three, along with Pizza Hut, Tony Roma’s, Subway, and I don’t know what else, are all in Costa Rica).  We drove past the Central Valley, and I got some shots of the soccer stadium (the park beside it used to be the airport, but as the area grew, the airport was moved to Alajuela, and the former airport site became the site of the soccer stadium and a park. 

We drove up to the Barceló San Jose Palacio, an apparently luxury hotel, where we waited for a transfer from another group. They arrived, and we headed up to Poasito where we would make the final transfers, some going to the waterfalls/botanical gardens/zoo, and others going to Dokka/Grecia/Sarchi.  On the way, I had very nice conversation with a young man named Tomas.  He’s a biomedical engineer and travels all through Latin America.  He loves animals, so I showed him my dolphin, parrot and stingray pics and talked to him about visiting Jamaica.  He thinks he’ll do it.

We got up to Poasito and we all split up. Our group was mostly Spanish speaking:  A mother and adult daughter; a mother and adult son (Rodolfo, who gave me a pin that is a Mexican flag) from DF, Mexico; a woman who’s Guatemalan but has lived in Nicaragua for 30 years; two friends, one from Birmingham and one a retired professor who’s just moved from Boston to NYC, and me.

Before leaving the Central Valley, we’d passed by a park with a big statue of a coffee bean.  Coffee undergirds much of this economy, and I forget how much is grown here, but 99% of it is exported. We got to the Dokka plantation.  We saw the Arabica plants, saw the coffee picking buckets, saw the Eucalyptus trees and banana trees that are also grown on the plantation, and saw lots of coffee beans on the tree.  They are still green now; they will turn red when ripe.

Once ripened, they go through a process of being sifted ad skinned and washed and air-dried and toasted.  We saw a big bodega (in the traditional, warehouse sense).  We looked at the various stations for each of this and got to see the different types of beans and the effects of different kinds of drying.  We went to the roasting room where we saw the coffee being roasted and packaged (all by hand).

After the coffee tour, we had another typical Costa Rican lunch.  After that, we got to look at souvenirs, then headed down the mountain to Grecia.

In Grecia is a church made entirely of metal.  The story goes that the coffee barons told the citizens of the town that if they wanted citizenship, they had to build a church in the town.  They built a wooden church which burned down.  Then they built a stone church but it was destroyed in an earthquake.  Finally, they had a metal church shipped in from Belgium.  It arrived in pieces, and it was years before they got someone who could put it together.  But they did, they painted it with some sort of red Rustoleum-like paint, and it’s been standing ever since (don’t know when it went up; think it was the late 1800s).  We went in to worship and take pictures, and then I went to a park and took pics of a guy building a replica of the church.  Leaving the church and heading down the mountain we passed through sugar cane processing plants, but didn’t stop.

Our final stop was at Sarchi.  Sarchi is where they make oxcarts.  The oxcart is sort of a national symbol of Costa Rica.  In the late 1800s, they were used to transport coffee and sugar cane.  We saw a monument to the Oxcart, which was a giant oxcart in a public square.  Across from there was another church, so we went in to worship and take pics again.  Next we went to the actual place where they make the carts.  It was a holiday, but there were still craftsmen around, doing both the making and the decorating. We bought gifts and headed home.  Rodolfo and his mom invited me to Mexico.

As I travel around, I wonder why it is that we Americans make so much money, but I see so few of us on vacations.  I wonder why so many people from “poorer” countries can afford to vacation for 2 and 3 weeks at a time, but we often can’t?  I wonder if it has to do with priorities?  I don’t know, but do know that I’m going to start saving now for next year.

You can find pics from the day here:
(https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10202870766824041.1073741878.1048146180&type=1&l=ec0f18d16d)

Costa Rica, Day 2: Ziplining at San Luis

Costa Rica, Day 2

Not much to talk about yesterday.  We got up, had breakfast, and Danny took me to the hotel to meet the pickup for the tour.  The hotel receptionist was a friend of his daughter.  We all chatted for a few minutes, then the van came to  take us for the 1.5 hour ride to San Luis.  There was a father from Oklahoma  (works for Ralph Lauren) and his schoolteacher daughter from Kansas (teaches special-needs children, also does hair on the side). Later on we picked up a woman from LA, but since she sat way in the back and I sat way in the front, we didn’t have the opportunity to talk much.

While we were driving from Escazu (where Danny lives) to Santa Ana (where the LA lady lives), we passed by the house of the US Ambassador to Costa Rica.  It's a big, walled-off structure (when we returned in the afternoon, we would see a motorcyle accident in front of it).  When our driver pointed out that the US Ambassador lived there, the father from Oklahoma asked "The whole staff?!?"  It's that big, that the whole embassy staff could probably live there....Danny says they have Fourth of July parties there for the US expat community and include a Marine Corps band.

When we go to the San Luis, the woman from LA met an Indian guy from NYC who’d been on the tour with her the previous day.  He was with another group of 4 more people; they were from Puerto Rico.  So we went, the 8 of us, to do ziplining.  Not only do they allow the use of the gopro, but they had special helmets for it.  The mount on them fitted a newer model than my camera so the fellow secured my straps, buckled us all up, and we were ready to go.

It. Was. Awesome.  First of all, they did the braking for you, which was nice. We had the rollers with two hand grips, so all you had to do was hold on, and you didn’t have to worry about your speed at all.  You could also lean back a little more than on the zipline at Miguel Antonio.  The zipping was fairly standard;  we did a coupla baby zips, 40-50 or so meters, maybe 5 meters off the ground, then we went on to the real lines.  They increased in height and length as we went, and for the last two or three, we actually had to subir the mountain.  Of note:  about halfway through, we did a Tarzan swing.  This is not a zipline, but a swing.  They strap you in, raise you up to give you a good pushoff, and you go swinging through the tops of the trees.  It was amazing, although I was always looking up and didn’t get very good video of it.  The 3^rd or 4^th to last line was over a river.  It was 4 or 500 meters long and a very scenic view.  The second to last was one they called the drunken horse.  It was maybe 100, 150 meters long but the two guides on each end shook the rope so you had a bouncy ride.  That was also fun.  Somewhere along the way, we climbed the mountain to a big surprise:  they had a water dispenser ready for us, which we appreciated!  Then we were off to the last line, the Superman line.  It’s over a 522 meter long stretch; I think it’s 47 meters high, and you get strapped into this apron-like garment,  you get up on a table, then a plank and raise into a downward dog so they can buckle you in.  Once you’re in, you just lie down and enjoy the ride.  It was fabulous. 

Video here: (https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?v=10202864455506262&l=8455696336015717429)

And here: https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?v=10202862974069227&l=1567077544098907767

(this is the same zip.  The first one is them recording it; the second one is recorded from my helmet cam.)  You should be able to see them by clicking on the blue hyperlink, but I've included the full address just in case.

Here is another video; seems to be just a short line:  https://www.facebook.com/photo.php?v=10202863296997300&l=8837041810299161196

And, finally, here are some pictures from the trip:

https://www.facebook.com/media/set/?set=a.10202863446121028.1073741877.1048146180&type=1&l=db84db5528

There are more which I may add after I get home:  scenery on the way up, a big logging truck in front of us, coffee farms, the food we ate, etc.  Interestingly, at lunch I sat across from the two folk from Kansas.  The daughter, the teacher, Facetimed her students back home.  The three of us had a conversation about the challenges of doing ministry in an increasingly skeptical and apathetic world; I was surprised to see that the skepticism and apathy are spreading even to the Bible Belt.  But we encouraged one another and praised God together, which was good.

Lunch (black beans and rice, salad, fried yucca, your choice of meat, and mango juice) was over fairly quickly.  The driver had said we could possibly stop at a butterfly farm on the way back, but after we ended, everyone wanted to buy CDs, and then it started to pour, so that didn’t happen. I had an awesome day, though!  Now about to go do my last tour before leaving…

Costa Rica, Day 1

Last night I was so tired I completely knocked out.  Head hit the pillow and I was out.  That never happens.  It felt good to come, not to a hotel, but to my friend’s home.  It’s good to see his younger daughter,  Sophi, all dressed up and going to her new job as an attorney.

We got up and by 10 Danny had cooked breakfast, we’d done laundry and run some errands.  We got me a Claro sim card, taking advantage of a special that gives unlimited data and texting for three days (the amount of time I remain here), and doubling the ₡1,000 minimum recharge to ₡2,000.  So for ₡1500 (about $3.00; ₡500 for the card and ₡1000 for the recharge), I have unlimited service while I’m here.  It will expire after 3 months, or I can recharge it for about $1.00 a month and keep a Costa Rican phone number.  Now I have a Costa Rican number, a Jamaican number and, somewhere, an Egyptian number.  The cost of the Jamaican and the Costa Rican sim cards combined is slightly over what ATT charges to ACTIVATE international service, so I think this is the solution that will work for me.  Recharge the SIM on the internet before I go, and have service the minute I set down.  By way of comparison, ATT charges $0.50 per text with international service.  The Costa Rican and Jamaican costs are about 10 cents per text.  It may seem trivial, but pennies make dollars.  Developing the practice of saving where I can allows me to squirrel money away to take trips like this.

Danny is a tour guide, so he always wants me to see and do things in Costa Rica.  I’ve pretty much done all the touristy things, but I wanted to go ziplining, so we went by Expediciones Tropicales.  I started with their online brochure and picked out two things:  the Doka, Grecia, and Sarchi tour (coffee and sugar cane plantations, an old church, butterfly farm, and oxcart factory); and the Monte Zurqui Canopy Tour.  We went by their office only to find that the Monte Zurqui Canopy Tour no longer exists – it’s now enhanced and is the Canopy San Luis Tour.  It includes something like 12 zips with 18 platforms, a superman line, and a rappelling line.  I was excited, but this is the end of the tourist season, and they didn’t have enough people to do the trip.  So I booked the Doka, Grecia, Sarchi tour (which now has only a drive through the coffee plantations, and no butterfly farm).  They gave us a couple of names of other  zipline tours, one of which is close to one of Danny’s other properties, so we left his number with them in case something opened up, and decided we’d check out the other tours.

We ran some errands, including a trip to the grocery store where I bought food/snacks for the next three days for under $20.00.  We got something called peibaye, which is a date but isn’t sweet and looks and tastes like a small yam.  That’s my new food for the trip, I guess.  We went out to lunch, trying first at a Chinese joint in San Jose then moving to a Columbian place in Escazu.  Before we’d finished, Expediciones Tropicales called to let me know that they would, in fact, be doing a zipline tour tomorrow.  Not sure how that’s going to work out since this is the rainy season and it is POURING right now, but I’m excited, and they will allow me to use my gopro. So we shall see.  The zipline tour is scheduled for tomorrow and the coffee plantation tour for Thursday.  I leave on Friday morning.

On the trip from Jamaica to Costa Rica, I wore these Tommie’s Copper compression thingies.  They’re supposed to be for my knees, but they don’t seem to do much good.  They did, however, manage to really irritate my skin, causing first something some kind of irritation that turned into some nasty looking bumps.  My friend Danny went into his garden, cut some aloe vera, and came to put it on my sores. Honestly, they don’t make friends like this any more!!

I’ve just transferred my dolphin pics from cd and dvd to my hard drive.  I can never figure out how to upload a dvd to youtube though, so that may have to wait til I’m home. This has been an amazing trip. (note to self:  take the external hard drive tomorrow and see if they can load the pics directly onto it rather than onto a dvd.)

 Prayerfully, I’ll be energized to go back to work.  It seems we got the last contract we bid on, and they’re asking me for budget numbers.  That’s always something worth interrupting your vacation.