Between January 9-13, I taught an ethics course called “Resilience and Resistance” at Starr King School for the Ministry, a member school of the Graduate Theological Union. Eleven faith leaders of multiple religious traditions explored life stressors, historical trauma, and health in the context of oppression, white supremacy and social movements. Through rigorous study, dialogue and spiritual reflection, the students analyzed and interrogated the historical and cultural dynamics of stress and resilience, hoping to identify contextual factors and healthy strategies and promote cultures of resistance in their ministries and activism. Course readings, guest presentations, and class discussion drew heavily from the scholarship from and lessons learned through movements led by people of color and poor/working class people. A website designed for the course will make available to the public some of the student’s final projects and begin a collection of web resources designed by seminarians for faith leaders involved seeking social justice.

Opportunities for praxis (reflection-and-action as an emancipatory component of education) were crucial to the course. One Phoenix-based Master of Divinity student, Nastasha Ostrom, spent her time applying her street medic skills and interest in resilience/resistance to Occupy Oakland. Her reflections show a piece of what self-care looks like in the context of protest, state violence, and community activism. As Occupy Oakland experienced yet another wave of police brutality, and arrests, as well as solidarity from various other cities’ demonstrations this past weekend, Ostrom’s insights seem increasingly relevant in the public dialogue about caring for each other in the faith-full struggle for social justice.

The cave you fear to enter holds the treasure you seek.
- Joseph Campbell

I can remember the moments just like they happened yesterday. On one occasion my friend and I were standing in the parking lot of my high school next to my gray two-door ’88 Nissan Sentra. He was looking at a paper I had written when he casually said, “you write like a girl.” For some reason, unknowingly to me in that moment, time stopped. His words resonated deep in my body. Despite this event occurring 15 years ago I can tell you the first and last name of the person who said it, the weather outside, the time of day, where we were standing in relation to my car…etc. Another time a high school friend told me that my leopard print steering wheel cover “was for girls.” When I bought it I had never even thought twice about it. It was simply what I wanted. But, again time stopped and I became extremely present. On one occasion a coworker told me I looked like a woman. His words shook me. All of these incidents shook me. While I wasn’t thinking this at the time I suppose at some deep level my spirit was saying in each occasion, “Oh, my god he knows.”

When these incidents occurred – in high school and in my early twenties I had never heard the word transgender before. This was in the mid 90′s and early 2000′s. I’m sure I’d heard the term transexual used in a pejorative manner, but my knowledge was extremely limited. Like many other teenage boys I had been called “gay,” “fag,” or “sissy” and a whole wide range of other terms – typical of the homophobia rampant in our culture. I know that I also participated in this homophobia by joining my guy friends in using this kind of language with each other. We’d also throw around sexist and racist jokes not realizing the impact these types of words have in everyday lives of people of color and women. But, despite me being called gay or fag those moments never stayed with me. I can’t remember even one specific incident in which I was called this, yet I can remember in painstaking detail the times I had been called a woman or a girl.

Anyone driving through Madison, Wisconsin in April and May would have recognized those nine beeps of car and truck horns, ubiquitous throughout the city: This is what democracy looks like!

Wisconsin State Capitol

The mainstream media focused on unions, of course, public and private, coming together in unexpected solidarity, but not everyone realized that spiritual and religious groups played a significant role as well. And here’s something that will challenge your prejudices: evangelical groups were among them. Together with the religious organizations that form the usual progressive “suspects,” they chanted their own variation on a theme: This is what religion looks like.

Bruno, Hawkings, Dowling at WCSA

Houses of Worship: the new “public” spaces for political action?

Churches, temples, synagogues, and mosques have an ambivalent history with social justice, but a panel at the Working Class Studies conference in Chicago this June offered evidence of deep and innovative support for justice movements, worker rights in particular, which really inspired me. Not everyone knows, for example, that during the Wisconsin Uprising, a Shabbat service was held in the Capitol with Hebrew songs in which Rabbi Renee Bauer played a key role. Or that four hundred clergy signed a statement of support, and one hundred fifty of them marched in the protests. Robert Bruno, author of Justified by Work, moderated an impressive panel consisting of Father Larry Dowling, a Catholic priest from a 50 percent unemployed, 55 percent ex-incarcerated parish, and Rev. C. J., . Hawking, Executive Director of Arise Chicago, and Minister of Social Justice at the Euclid Avenue Methodist Church. Unfortunately, Rabbi Brant Rosen, leader of an activist Jewish Reconstructionist congregation, and a Muslim Imam were not able to come.

Parable of the Leaven (etching by Jan Luyken, photo by Phillip Medhurst)

This sermon was preached at the High Plains Church, Unitarian Universalist, on Colorado Springs Pride Day, 2011. The sermon has been modified somewhat to fit the current context.

Luke 13:20-21: And again he said, “To what should I compare the Kingdom of God? It is like yeast that a woman took and mixed in with three measures of flour until all of it was leavened.”

In 2009, I went to theannual conference for my Unitarian Universalist district, where singer and activist Holly Near gave the keynote speech, which was really more of a keynote sing with brief stories between the songs. We all sang along and had a marvelous time. When Holly got to “Singing for Our Lives,” which we often sing during pride services, she introduced it with an explanation for a recent change of words in one of the verses.

Across California, 6,600 prisoners have joined in the hunger strike that began July 1 with prisoners held in security housing units, a sanitary term for solitary confinement, inside Pelican Bay State Prison refusing food and issuing demands that include adequate food and nutrition, an end to group punishment and abuse, as well as compliance with the 2006 Commission on Safety and Abuse in America’s Prisons recommendations on ending solitary confinement practices. On the outside, demonstrators and coalitions have shown their solidarity with the prisoners through rallies in various cities, online petitions and calls to action. So far, the California Department of Corrections and “Rehabilitation” (CDCR) has refused to negotiate or show any signs of addressing prisoners’ demands.

I wrote about the start of the Pelican Bay Prison hunger strike in a July 2 posting;in the meantime, solidarity with prisoners has expanded both inside and outside the prison. There are ways to get involved and express solidarity: call the CDCR or your elected officials and urge them to honor the prisoners’ demands. You can also tell them you are a person of faith and why you support human rights and true justice for all people. (Prison Hunger Strike Solidarity, the coalition of organizations outside of prison speaking on behalf of and supporting the striking prisoners, even has a sample script and list of phone numbers to make it easy for you to do yourself and share with friends.)

While many people of faith reject the death penalty, solidarity with prisoners has been a difficult pill to swallow for many people of faith on the outside, particularly those of us who believe ourselves to be personally disconnected from the prison system or not “having friends who are felons.” Similarly, we may have thought at some point that having solidarity with prisoners is to turn our backs on victims of violence. There are facts and statistics that can help us deal with this discomfort. For instance, prison sentencing for nonviolent crimes has expanded heavily in just the past few decades. Also, solitary confinement has been practiced under the auspices of deterring violence inside prison, not because of original crimes committed outside (and that method has its fill of unjust procedures, like the debriefing rule, which the hunger strike and the video linked below help to illuminate). Still, something stops a large number of us from saying “yes” to solidarity with prisoners and no to solitary confinement. Luckily, many of us rely on traditions and sources of moral wisdom, which for centuries, have called for human dignity, liberation and freeing the captive.

Robert Kessler (photo by Janet Lincoln)

Three generations of us sat at the Café Figaro on Bleecker Street in New York City. My grandfather sat there with his son. My father sat there with me. I sat there with friends, boyfriends, girlfriends. All of us drank cappuccinos and ate pastries and fixed the world, in our conversations at least.

This Father’s Day I remember those coffee drinks and pastries but mostly I remember those conversations. And this Father’s Day I want to honor both my father and his father for making me the left-leaning progressive I am today.

"Happiness" (photo by Sabrina from Baronissi, Salermo, Italy)

It’s been awhile since I’ve posted anything, mostly due to life difficulties and a sense that Tikkun was not really the venue for the things I felt called to write. I’m sorry about that. I’ve missed all of you.

In any case, I certainly can’t let Easter go by without posting something. So here is a liturgical reading for the day that I just wrote; think of it as a responsive reading:

Some Other Resurrections

Despair is sapping our spirits, damaging our souls, hurting our hearts.
We need to be resurrected into hope, faith, and trust.
Today, may we be resurrected.
Violence is shortening our lives and robbing us of our joy.
We need to be resurrected into peace and its many blessings.
Today, may we be resurrected.
Selfishness is tearing our social fabric, hiding us from one another, turning us inward.
We need to be resurrected into generosity, compassion, and open-heartedness.
Today, may we be resurrected.
Fear is pitting us against each other, stripping our delight, poisoning our relationships.
We need to be resurrected into courage and connection.
Today, may we be resurrected.
Injustice is devaluing and dehumanizing us all, punishing some terribly, frightening others deeply.
We need to be resurrected into justice and healing.
Today, may we be resurrected.
Hatred is breeding despair, violence, selfishness, fear, and injustice among us and among our children.
We need to be resurrected into love.
Today, may we be resurrected.
Amen.

Peace, grace, shalom, tikkun olam, Amanda

Well, it’s only an apparent tide and to the extent to which it seems to have momentum, it is reversible. Those are conclusions of what is, in my opinion, an excellent analysis of the current political state of play on the immigration rights issue, in a just published article, “The Preventable Rise of Arizona’s SB 1070,” by Justin Akers Chacon.

Last June the General Assembly of my Unitarian Universalist denomination adopted Immigration Rights as a 4-Year Study-Action Issue, orienting its associated congregations, as much as possible given UU pluralism, toward a single primary topic of shared conversation. Since then I have been looking for a coherent way to understand the causes, the political forces standing in the way of a just resolution, and a sense of how progressives might engage this issue with some chance of a positive outcome.

Chacon’s article is the best analysis I have seen so far. On a first reading, three major points stood out.

Antiracist Rally, Sydney, 2005 (no attribution)

I’ve been reflecting on Theodore Parker recently, the 19^th century Unitarian minister who came to his social justice work (abolition in particular) through his liberal Christian beliefs. Since 2010 is Parker’s 200^th birthday, it’s not a bad time to think about him or the work he did. But there’s another reason Parker is on my mind, which is that it is just as possible to come to spirituality through social action as it is to come to social action through spirituality. And here, I am thinking about the spirituality of ally work.

Ally work can range from donating money, to moving into a neighborhood where your presence will support people in need, to leading workshops for other potential allies to practice daily the art of interrupting violent comments and demeaning jokes. There are many ways to be a good ally, some of them noted by Tim Wise, Paul Kivel, Allan Johnson, Meredith Maran, and others. All it takes is a serious commitment to the dignity, well-being, and empowerment of those in a social group to which you don’t belong, those who suffer from a form of inequality in which you are on the privileged end of things.

Ally work is important because all hands are needed on deck to heal the world. But ally work can have an important “side effect” if we let it: it can become a form of spiritual discipline as profound as prayer or meditation. Here are three spiritual elements of ally work that I have experienced:

Glenn Beck supporters gather for his "Restoring Honor" rally on the National Mall on August 28, 2010. Photo courtesy of FlickrCC/theqspeaks.

As one who has been vilified by Fox News commentator Glenn Beck, I had to tune in Saturday and listen to his speech in Washington, D.C. (almost as one who cannot help but to look at a car accident as they drive by on the freeway). During his “revival,” Beck gave his usual banter regarding the beauties of Capitalism and runaway consumerism, the dangers of anything with the word “social” in it, and how we should fear the coming financial apocalypse by “battening down the hatches” and “get everything you can while the getting’s good.”

However, it was not his usual verbosity that gave me pause — that caused me to be in “shock and awe,” if you will. It was his statement on civil rights:

We are the people of the civil rights movement. We are the ones that must stand for civil and equal rights. Equal justice. Not special justice, not social justice, but equal justice.

Equal justice? Standing up for Civil Rights? How can Glenn Beck — a man who makes millions of dollars as a purveyor of fear and, in a McCarthy-esque fashion, labeling those who disagree with his point-of-view (including us progressives) as “Marxists” and “Nazis” — even begin to talk about equality or justice while there still exists the poor, the homeless, the falsely accused, and the disenfranchised within our own backyard (much less the world)?

I led a nature divination workshop in the University of Wisconsin Arboretum a few years ago. I asked the group first to ground and center, then remind themselves of their oracular question, and then simply look around at the marshland where we had gathered. One woman decided to ask two questions rather than just one.

She stationed herself on a boardwalk overlooking the marsh, closed her eyes and asked: “How can I find the time and energy to enjoy my life, given the fact that I am extremely busy with work right now?” When she opened her eyes, she immediately noticed the swaying grasses and rushes in front of her and realized that she, too, could be flexible like these plants. She could go with the flow and fit pleasure into the small cracks in her work life.

Then she closed her eyes again and asked: “What should I do about my nephew?” Opening her eyes on the same scene less than a minute later, she noticed a large tree in the middle distance that appeared sturdy and deeply-rooted. Yes, she thought to herself, I could provide this teenager with the kind of stability this tree represents if I open my home to him.

My student’s experience exhibits the extent to which her insight depended on her own perception. Because she was looking for different types of feedback, at the same place and at almost the same time, she noticed two very different images.

To see more divination cards, visit the Tikkun Daily Art Gallery.

This is exactly the type of experience I wanted to foster when several years ago I proposed a project to my daughter, the painter Linnea Vedder. My idea was a deck of divination cards that helps people access their own insight. Linnea illustrated the cards and I wrote the accompanying book. We call it The World Is Your Oracle.

Last month I was honored to attend and participate in a Multi-Faith Pride Service at the Unity Church of the Hills in Austin, Texas. Organized by Reverend Mary Street Wilson of the Church of the Savior, almost every major faith tradition in Austin was represented at the event with an attendance of more than 300 people. The program included readings from sacred texts, musical performances, and prayers.

One of the highlights was a three-part group chant that the entire audience joined in, based on the three Abrahamic Faiths. Reverend Wilson told me that this was the most powerful moment for her in the service because, “Each ‘voice’ expressed a particular faith tradition and was beautiful in its own right, but the harmony of can only be achieved through multiple voices. The harmony is a reminder of how multiple faith traditions can work together to achieve a greater beauty than anyone of us might achieve on our own.”

She continued, “I just happen to believe that the Sacredness we believe in surpasses human expression. And yet, the Ireneaus quote, ‘The glory of God is humanity fully alive’ means we use our humanity to reflect our understanding of God.”

The keynote address was given by the inspiring Bishop Yvette Flunder, founder and minister to the City of Refuge UCC. Bishop Flunder’s address entitled “We Are the Light of Love in the World” was powerful-ranging from passionate to humorous with a genuine inclusiveness that was felt by the entire, diverse audience.

I invite you to view Bishop Flunder’s keynote address here in three parts. (Total viewing time is approximately 20 minutes). While the videography is not professional quality, the message is not diminished in the least:

We are the Light of Love – Part 1 of 3

We are the Light of Love – Part 2 of 3

We are the Light of Love – Part 3 of 3

LGBT rainbow flag (photo by theodoranian)

It would have sufficed if there had been LGBT people in Colorado Springs, home of fervently anti-gay Focus on the Family and New Life Church.

It would have sufficed if there had been some LGBT organizations in the Springs – maybe a pride center, a gay men’s chorus, a bar or two.

It would have sufficed if there had been a single religious organization in the Springs – a church, a synagogue – that openly welcomed and supported LGBT people just as we are.

It would have sufficed if there had been a pride parade in the Springs some year or other.

It would have sufficed if a single church or synagogue had a contingent marching in the pride parade.

But now all these things have come to be, and many more. This past Sunday, the city known for years as the homophobic center of the “Hate State” (so called for once passing a statewide measure systematically denying LGBT rights) held its 20^th annual Pride Parade and PrideFest. Ordained ministers from various denominations held a commitment ceremony for same-sex couples while hundreds of people wandered from booth to booth in the rain, buying rainbow gear and signing petitions.

I have recently returned from the 49th General Assembly (GA) of the Unitarian Universalist Association of Congregations (UUA, for short), which met in Minneapolis June 23-27. I was one of two delegates representing my congregation in Bowling Green, KY. Since Tikkun Daily includes subscribers and bloggers who consider themselves UU’s and the UUA grapples with many of the same challenges as do otherwise affiliated or unaffiliated spiritual progressives, it’s a reasonable guess that what occurred at the UUA General Assembly will interest Tikkun Daily readers.

Above: Excerpt from Native American activist, environmentalist, economist, and writer Winona LaDuke’s June 26 lecture to the 2010 General Assembly of the UUA. See the complete lecture here.

The Unitarian Universalist Association resulted from unification in 1961 of two of the country’s oldest radical/liberal religious denominations, both of which have roots in the Radical Reformation. General Assembly is the annual decision-making gathering of delegates representing the congregations that belong to the Association. This denomination is committed in principle to democratic process in society and in its member congregations. Like other socially engaged religious movements, it has continuously faced the task of renewing itself in changing social, political, and spiritual conditions. This was especially evident at this General Assembly. One index of the urgency of this task is the fact, reported by UUA President Rev. Peter Morales, that half of our ministers are likely to retire in the next decade.

I can imagine the conversation I would have with someone who supports Proposition 8, California’s same-sex marriage ban. They might tell me apologetically that they have nothing against me personally, or against my same-sex relationship of almost 13 years, but that marriage is … different, not for me. They might tell me calmly that my sexual brokenness can be healed if I will only accept Jesus Christ as my personal Lord and Savior, and that the state has no business condoning sin.

For years, I would have told them that it was a matter of equal rights, and that society should stand behind same-sex couples who want to marry because they are just as much in love as any opposite-sex couple. I would have said marriage is marriage, regardless of the couple saying “I do,” and that conservative religion has no business intruding on the state. I might have gone so far as to say that same-sex marriage should be legal as a matter of religious freedom, not to mention the hundreds of state and federal rights now systematically denied to same-sex couples because we cannot legally marry.

Today, without denying the truth of the above arguments, I would say something different, something much more controversial: as long as we live in a society that treats marriage as a matter of state interest and prioritizes it above other types of relationships, same-sex couples must be allowed to marry for spiritual reasons. Same-sex marriage is a spiritual matter for the couples involved and for society as a whole. Spirituality here is not opposed to politics, but is of a piece with it.

I want your opinion about something. I’m a liberal religious person who doesn’t believe in doctrines, dogma or a supernatural God. 19% of members in my tradition identify as atheist, 30% as agnostic and the rest Jewish, Hindu, Muslim, Christian, Pagan or otherwise. Many of us have been wounded by the bigotry, homophobia and dogma in the religions we grew up in and find refuge, support and community in my tradition. We come together on Sunday mornings to enjoy music and hear sermons about social justice, the power of community and how to live inspiring and meaningful lives. Some ministers may use the word God in an all-inclusive way but most choose to avoid the term because of its troubled history. Here’s my question for you: Should I abandon my tradition because liberal and moderate religion serves to justify the extremes? Is my participation in this religious institution providing legitimacy and credibility for fundamentalism, violence, oppression and bigotry done in the name of religion? I’m studying to be a minister in this tradition. It’s called Unitarian Universalism. Am I guilty by association? Should I jump ship? What do you think?

I know what Sam Harris and Richard Dawkins would tell me. They are two of the new atheists most responsible for spreading this idea about liberal and moderate religion justifying the extremes. Liberals are “aiding and abetting” the most dangerous religions because they give them credibility by participating in the institution of religion itself. Sam Harris states that moderates are “in large part responsible for the religious conflict in our world” and “Religious tolerance-born of the notion that every human being should be free to believe whatever he wants about God-is one of the principal forces driving us toward the abyss.” And Richard Dawkins states, “The teachings of “moderate” religion, though not extremist in themselves, are an open invitation to extremism.” And when asked about why he lumps liberal religions like Unitarianism in with fundamentalism Hitchens responded a reference to Camus stating that he believes all religion is comparable to rats and vermin.

“Agnostic” we understand as “not knowing”–usually referring to beliefs about God. “Spiritual” is more problematic. If I say I am a “spiritual agnostic” some people think I am claiming to be holier than thou, as if calling oneself a humanist meant one was a better human being than thou. These self descriptions are more about aspirations and outlook than achievements.

What would a “spiritual agnostic” believe about the universe, suffering, or the meaning of life? I am casting caution aside to offer my own case as an example. It says nothing about what others believe.

I belong to a small group at the Oakland Unitarian church that meets twice a month. We talk about our lives, spiritual practices and anything else. I wrote last fall about one of our group who works in a government welfare office, and who learned how to bring her spirituality into the work: it is one of my favorite posts on Tikkun Daily. We have started a practice every quarter of taking the whole evening to hear about and discuss what one of our group believes, our “credo.” It was my turn a week ago, and I had to write out my thoughts so I wouldn’t ramble. Two or three of the group thought I should post my credo here. I am diffident about doing so. What we really believe and live by is so personal. But since one of my conclusions is to be bold, here goes.

Credo. What I believe. 4/15/10. UU Oakland Covenant Group.

This splits easily into two for me: what I’d like to believe and what I really do believe.

Starhawk was generous with her time while she was here in Madison a month ago. She granted me two interviews, the first about Palestine and the second — which I will begin to post today now that I’m back from my vacation — about permaculture. For those of you who don’t know her, Starhawk is the best-known Wiccan author alive today. She’s published eleven books, including The Spiral Dance, which introduced many of us to Wicca. From the beginning of her career, she’s been very involved as an activist, and since the 1990s she’s been most active in promoting permaculture.

Star came to permaculture as a natural outgrowth of her Paganism. After many years in the Goddess movement — where we declared that the Earth was a sacred, living organism that manifests Herself in the cycles of birth, growth, death, and regeneration that occur in all of nature, including our own human culture — Star discovered permaculture. She soon realized it was a practical application of her spiritual path.