Return to Easter

Over the past couple of years, I’ve separated myself from my Holy Innocents Episcopal church community. This year, I started to come back, knowing that I need community support on my life journey.

A few years ago, I was very much into the whole Lent-Holy Week-Easter “do”, taking on a Lenten discipline, being a member of the altar party in most Holy Weeks services, and swinging 360’s with the thurible at Easter services. I hung out with friends who were very much into church, and I immersed myself in the experience with them.

Then I ran into some challenges as my friends split up for reasons both good and bad. I was disillusioned and angry, and my connection to the liturgy was largely lost. I paid attention again to what was being said in the liturgy and sermons, and how I felt about it. I’d never believed in the fact of resurrection and of Jesus as a sacrifice for sins. Central to my faith about Easter was the experience of Jesus’ life and teachings continuing on in the experiences of his disciples – both female and male – and I increasingly felt the sting of the male-dominated church history. Our altar at church and liturgical language became less inclusive, and that gave me another reason to separate myself.

Jesus’ teachings about social justice and his radical opposition to the religious authorities of his time got him killed. He spoke truth to power and was unwilling to be silent, ultimately paying the price with his life. That was the sacrifice – non-violent protest, refusing to fight fire with fire (except in theological debates with religious authorities.) The fact that his message was powerful enough to be felt after his death is the resurrection experience that is true for me.

The Easter Vigil service has a special place in my heart, from the storytelling of faith perspectives to the drama of the light arriving and the first “Alleluias.” At one of my favorite Vigil services, our response to each reading was “And God isn’t finished with us yet.” I had missed the Vigil service for at least two years, but I went this year. I received an important message and insight from the service: a way to become an Easter person again, even though I don’t believe in “awaiting Christ’s coming in glory”. Our preacher at the Vigil, The Rev. J. Cameron Ayers, gave me the key that night that unlocked the door in my spirit the next morning.

The Easter story is one of redemption and the triumph of love. There are many examples of redemption and the triumph of love in today’s world if we look for them. They just tend to be drowned out by injustice, violence and greed. Jesus the man is dead, but his example lives on. As Christians, we are required to be Christ in the world today – seeking out injustice and trying to right the wrongs, returning violence with powerful but non-violent responses, and calling out the powerful to take action.

It’s our job to eradicate injustice, violence and greed, so that love really does triumph, throughout the world. I can be that kind of Easter person – or at least try to be.

Walking with a Night Minister

My Presidio Graduate School course on Culture, Values and Ethics requires me to engage with a culture with which I’m uncomfortable or unfamiliar, and extract learning from the experience. When the course assignment was being described, the idea of walking out with a San Francisco Night Minister was one of the first things that came to me. Although I have learned to treat the homeless with dignity in some circumstances, I still find myself quite uncomfortable around them, especially after dark. Also, although I understand the concept of “ministering to the least of these”, I was profoundly uncomfortable with the idea of actually doing it myself. All in all, doing night ministry would mean drawing on abilities that do not play to my strengths. I contacted my friend David, an Assistant Night Minister, about going out with him, and we arranged a date.

We met shortly before 10 PM, and began our walk from the Cathedral Hill area. It was a chilly night, but thankfully not raining. David is an ordained deacon in the Episcopal Church and wears a clerical collar and dark clothing. I wear dark clothing as well, to blend in with him. He set a course that rambled around the Tenderloin, Civic Center, South of Market and Central Market areas. On mapping what I recall of our route later, I estimate we walked nearly seven miles. We walked slowly, which was my first adjustment, as I normally walk fast, especially in less-salubrious areas. David acknowledged that he’d learned to adjust his pace during this ministry.

I asked David how he decided when to stop, or to speak, and when not to. He said that generally, he finds that people in groups are less likely to engage than those alone. He offers eye contact, and if eye contact is returned, a greeting. If the other person responds positively, he pauses, and sees what happens from there. Almost all the people we spoke with were standing, not sitting or lying on the ground. When we stopped to speak with someone, we introduced ourselves using first names, and shook hands. David always removed his glove to shake hands, which I noticed, but never managed to think of in time to emulate. David had a bag with some gloves, hats, scarves and socks, which he offered to people during our conversations until he ran out.

We had conversations with several people during our walk. Some recognized David from prior encounters. Multiple people asked if we were with the Night Ministry. A few asked for money. We declined but David offered to pray with them instead, although no one accepted the offer. Some saw David’s collar and simply called out “God bless!”

I met Brenda, Chris, James, Ron, Wesley and Willie: a man with a trumpet, a woman selling Street Sheets, a Vietnam veteran and poet, a man with a joke about the cold, and a woman who got edgy and anxious when others gathered as we spoke with her. Two people told us they had housing to go home to, and were out that night by choice. Another one had been staying overnight on Stevenson Street for 15 years. We only said a prayer with one man, a storyteller and philosopher. He shared parts of his life story and philosophy with us, and we held hands and David said a prayer before we continued on our way.

At one point, David said that he never felt unsafe while out on his walks, despite being alone. I was initially very aware of my surroundings, but as we met and spoke with people, I got more comfortable. Being with David helped, as we talked and laughed together on our walk. I was most uncomfortable in arguably the worst and best areas we walked in. Signs of drug use and sex for hire were prominent in the Central Market area, so I avoided looking too closely at clusters of people. In Polk Gulch, a truck cruised the streets with bikini-clad women dancing inside the glassed-in trailer, promoting a strip club. The objectification of sex made me slightly ill.

Stevenson Street, which usually seems to be the overnight home for many people as I walk to the parking lot there, was nearly empty for some reason. (I saw only four people on the block between 5th and 6th Streets.) We asked someone who stays there, but he didn’t know why it was so empty, just that he liked it quiet like that.

After a break at Bob’s Donuts to warm up, we made our way back to our starting point at 2 AM. I’m told it was a pretty quiet night. I headed home. David was going to pick up a heavy cardboard container he’d been saving to give to the friend who stays on Stevenson Street, and continue his ministry until 4 AM. I still need to translate these experiences into lessons for my leadership development, but the beauty of sharing the night with David and the people we met touched my heart.

I Cannot Remain Silent

A friend who is sharing “fun facts” for Women’s History Month reminded me of how recently women gained some basic control over their lives. It was only in the 1970’s that women were allowed to obtain mortgages and buy homes in their own names. (She’s reading When Everything Changed: The Amazing Journey of Women from 1960 to the Present by Gail Collins. I’ve just added it to my own reading list.) It made me recall that my mother had to explicitly apply for a credit card in her own name in the 1980’s, as previously, she’d only been listed under my dad’s credit. This was despite her having a job and bank account since she’d started working in her teens in the 1940’s.

I also heard a great deal over the past weeks from politicians and Catholic bishops and their supporters who believe that contraception used to prevent pregnancy is wrong and should not be available as preventative care without insurance deductibles, or at all. A law student who testified to the need for such coverage before Congress was vilified as a “slut” and “prostitute”, among other things. I was also reminded yesterday that there are people who think that women should not be able to choose to abort a fetus under any circumstance, and would take that control away from women.

All this adds up to increasing vicious attacks on women’s rights to equal opportunity and benefits in this country. When reminded of just how recently some of these benefits were won, it makes me angry – and I am not going to remain silent, on this or other social justice issues. I was a student at Wellesley College in the 1980’s, when we took these gains for women as won, and expected that society would continue to move forward. It makes me angry to see people take politicians seriously who would walk us backwards.

A few weeks ago, I was inspired by Gloria Steinem, who helped lead the effort to gain some of the rights women have today, and she isn’t resting on her laurels. She knows there is more to be done, and I now see more dramatically the need to fight with her. As she said, all social justice issues are connected, so I won’t be fighting only for women or feminism.
When an acquaintance posts on Facebook a one-sided statement, I am going to present my opposing viewpoint. I will attempt to do so in a way that is respectful but that makes it clear that I disagree, and why. I may not be able to take on all such views, but I will do what I can. The extremes in public dialogue continue to get worse as people listen more and more only to what they want to hear. I am going to try to do my part, so I cannot be silent.

So, if you’re someone who sees me wading in to a dialogue with someone in what appears to be a losing battle, now you know why I’m doing it.

Messes, Marinating and Muffaletta

I am much better at making messes than at cleaning them up. My Mom tells me I’ve been than way since childhood, especially when I’m doing crafts. For example, as a serial crafter, I have a potential archeological dig site in my “craft room” at home, with layers of craft projects and paraphernalia, accumulated over time. Right now, the area is a mess, and almost completely unusable in terms of space to create. I have an amazing capacity to ignore the mess, but it’s getting beyond me now. It needs a good cleanout, and decisions about what to keep and what to get rid of – my grandmother’s tatting tools, my jewelry-making stuff, scrapbooking supplies, knitting needles, quilting fabric and partially finished projects, earthquake emergency kit …. ?

In a work setting, I tend to pile things up and work comfortably that way, increasing stacks – until I can’t stand it (or successfully ignore it) any more, and go through a big cleanout process.

Part of what I do while I’m building stacks is using them as reminders of what I put there – an article about a topic I’d like to research, an invoice that needs to be filed with tax materials, a book I still want to read. Seeing the stack triggers the memory, and sometimes pieces start to come together. I use similar tools and techniques electronically – book lists on Goodreads, electronic notes and calendar reminders that send email alerts. I am very visual, so somehow “seeing” these things in place helps my mind pull them together.

I made a muffaletta sandwich (a large one) to share at my church Mardi Gras party last night. The olive salad has to marinate at least overnight so that the flavors of the olives, pepperoncini, celery, fresh herbs and garlic come together. Otherwise, it’s just not as good. It occurred to me today – Ash Wednesday – that I’m doing a form of mental marinating with my stacks when I use them productively, by letting things sit until something comes together for me. Sometimes, the flavors come together, but sometimes the mess needs to be cleared out. Sometimes, there is an aha! moment and I find what I need to move forward.

So, for a Lenten discipline this year, I’m going to focus on clearing out some of the messes in my life where the metaphorical flavors aren’t coming together.  We’ll see where that leads. Meanwhile, I’ll be having leftover olive salad for lunch.

Money + Meaning Converge

The SOCAP11 team wants people to solve:

Money + Meaning = the convergence of my values with how I earn, invest and spend my money. It’s about translating my values into action in the marketplace, using the power of the market for good.

To start, I need reliable, easily accessible information, to answer the questions my values lead me to ask.

• As a consumer: Is the product/service and its intended use sustainable, all along the supply chain and through end of life? Is the company that makes the product or provides the service operating ethically and justly? Can I trust their claims of sustainability?
• As a worker: Is my employer operating ethically and justly, providing reasonable pay and fair treatment to me and my colleagues, valuing all stakeholders, and making sustainable products?
• As an investor: Are the public or private companies I invest in producing the sustainable products and services needed, and are they operating as I’d want them to as an employee?

All this requires transparency and useful data that is readily available. The time and effort needed to understand the different ratings systems is frustrating. We lack a consistent way to define what is sustainable, with groups and tools focused on different social and environmental factors. Add in the inequality that currently exists in the world, and the whole problem gives me a headache. I don’t mean to say the situation is hopeless, just that the problem is complex.

I hope SOCAP11 will keep working at transparency and standards, so it becomes easier to achieve the convergence of values with the power of money.

That’s one way to solve the equation. What’s yours?

The Genius of Kale Chips

I try to eat well – I really do. I think about trying to eat food that’s good for me, sustainably produced and seasonal. The fact is, it’s winter, and I’m not fond of bitter greens. Kale, spinach, mustard greens and chard – not my thing. I have some beautiful chard growing in my garden now, but haven’t fixed it. I planted the chard because I hoped I’d feel compelled to harvest and cook it, and learn to like it. So far, it’s a failed strategy. The problem is, I don’t like it enough to take the time to cook it.

All is not hopeless, though. Tastes change, and foods we hated as kids we can learn to like as adults. I’ve learned that Brussels sprouts can be tasty, if they’re fresh, and depending on how they’re prepared. Nothing like the slimy, smelly, bitter things I recall from childhood. I do enjoy a good arugula salad, but seeing some sort of bitter greens described on a menu can make me choose a different entrée at a restaurant, unless the rest of the entrée is so yummy it makes me overlook the parts I don’t think I like. Generally, I at least try the greens, and sometimes I discover they’re not so bad, as with the Brussels sprouts.

This is what good social marketers do all the time. They make the benefits of a desired behavior attractive enough to outweigh the perceived costs.
General Mills has used social marketing to advocate the benefits of whole grain in its products, emphasizing that a better diet can taste good. More specifically, the Cheerios marketing plays on taste and health benefits and the importance of a heart-healthy lifestyle. The Cheerios campaign also included cause marketing oriented towards women’s heart health. The whole campaign is designed to get us to eat healthier (and Cheerios) by showing how much the benefits outweigh the costs.

So how do we apply these principles to marketing good food and healthy eating habits, and changing the way we eat?

For me, it’s pretty simple. Foods I really want can get me to try something I don’t want. As a kid, if I didn’t eat a little of whatever was being served for dinner, I didn’t get to have dessert. Desserts were homemade and I particularly loved Mom’s cakes. I ate what was being served, even if I didn’t like it (liver and onions, spinach, even sweetbreads), to get dessert. My former roommate, however, was tougher. She told me once that she sat at the table for hours, because she had been told she couldn’t leave the table until she’d eaten something she didn’t like. Her parents finally gave up at bedtime. Social marketers trying to get her to change would have to find the benefit that would incent her to try something new. It’s why school garden programs are great. Kids are interested enough in the process of growing and harvesting produce that their curiosity outweighs the “yuck” factor and they’ll taste foods they might not try otherwise.

That brings me to the genius of a recipe for kale chips. It’s a simple recipe that turns kale into a crispy, oven-baked snack that even kids enjoy. By emphasizing the chip-like quality, the recipe changes the balance of costs (bitter greens, time to cook them) versus benefits (crunchy, tasty snack). Kale chips changes the cost/benefit equation enough for me to eat the kale. I also just saw a recipe for pesto made with chard that might be worth a try. What can change the healthy eating equation for you?

Meditation on a Spider’s Web

I’m knitting a Victorian lace Spider’s Web Shawl

It will be a full circle of lace, light enough to be folded over as a shawl.  I’m making it because the pattern looks glamorous and isn’t too hard (I hope) and I have this amazing hand-indigo-dyed silk lace-weight yarn (Shimmering in Magic Bean) from A Verb for Keeping Warm in Berkeley, CA.

I started the project with just stitches and a set of double-pointed needles in July.  Now, I’m on circular needles, thank goodness, and up to well over 300 stitches per row – and many, many rows to go.

I’m finding the knitting to be a meditative practice, between the rhythm, and the indigo that comes off on my hands as I knit.  (It’s part of the final finishing process of hand-dyed indigo, and washes off easily with soap and water.)  The pattern takes my mind elsewhere.  It centers me somewhat, as I feel the yarn on the needles and my fingers, and listen to the pattern, inwardly count the repeats and stitches.  I am connected to my hands and the background vibration of the pattern in my mind.

When my mind strays too far, I lose that inner rhythm, and have to stop and count, checking the pattern.  If I keep knitting when I’ve lost the inner pattern rhythm I get it wrong, and then when I find the error, I typically have to un-knit back at least 2 rows to fix it.

I find that if I keep knitting on it regularly – ideally every day or every other day – that the rhythm of the pattern comes back quickly.  I also can do this and watch TV, which helps to keep me from focusing too long on the knitting, but can’t give my full attention to the TV or I don’t feel the pattern and make mistakes. At over 300 stitches per row and growing, it takes some serious unknitting to recover, and yes, I know this from experience.  I once spent time over two nights undoing nearly 3 whole rows to fix an error.  The undoing and fixing are decidedly not centering or meditative, especially around some tricky decreases.

I start back to school next week, which will mean my nights and weekends will be crammed with schoolwork.  I am hoping I can continue to find a little time each day to knit, as a meditation practice.

We’ll see.

The green tube in the middle is part of the "belly button" cast-on process, which will be removed when I'm done.

Balance versus Integration

“We can’t be useful to ourselves unless we’re useful to others. Whether we like it or not, we’re all connected, and it is unthinkable to be happy all by oneself. Anyone concerned only by his own well-being will suffer eventually. Anyone concerned with the well-being of others takes care of himself without even thinking about it. Even if we decide to remain selfish, let us be intelligently selfish – let us help others.” Dalai Lama (Facebook post, July 17, 2010)

I used to believe that I needed to make money and then give to others, once I had “enough”, balancing financial success “now” with giving “later”.   I now believe that the appropriate balance between financial success and giving to others is to achieve financial success while giving to others.

I have learned that the ideal way for me to do this is to integrate financial success and service through paid work that meets greater needs in the world.   This integration automatically provides a balance between personal needs and service, and considering personal financial success within a context of the needs of the broader world helps me to better align my priorities.  Without that context, I am tempted to believe that my wants are the same as needs.  The confusion of wants for needs in the past has led to a drive for personal wealth that will not actually satisfy my true needs.   It is also key to the consumer culture that has a small fraction of the world’s population consuming the majority of its resources.

I consider my needs in context of the needs of the world, and set goals accordingly.  You can, too.  Do it now.

To me, being financially successful means earning a living that sustains me in comfort (which is luxury by the standards of most of the world’s population) and enables me to help do the same for my family.  I want to do things for them because the giving and their enjoyment bring me joy.

I seek to help others, and help myself at the same time.  Doing for others will help you, too.  Do it now.

Looking back, I now see that each of us can choose to give to others while sustaining self and family.  The approach each person takes will depend on individual circumstances.   Your work can provide the paycheck to sustain a child, and time outside work is given in service to helping that child learn and grow.  If your work is all consuming, make an effort to understand how your work and your company serve society.   Sometimes that is clear – for instance, if you are a healer or caregiver of some sort, whose work directly serves others.  Sometime finding the connection between work and service takes more effort.  Maybe you make products that fill and otherwise unmet need (as opposed to generating needs for “more stuff”), or are more environmentally sustainable, or that bring services to underserved populations.  If you can’t find a connection between your paid work and service (and changing jobs is not an option right now), find a way to serve others.   If you can’t make the time to volunteer, then you probably make enough money to give it to an organization that will put your donation to good use in service to others.  Think about the services your donation will provide, and serve others vicariously through your donation.

Whatever you need to do to include serving others in your life, don’t defer it.  Do it now.

In these difficult economic times, it is sometimes easy to forget how to be of service to others.  It is during these times of crisis, however, that is it more important than ever to find a way to be of service.  Simple choices I make can serve others, such as being polite and expressing thanks to the harried clerk at the unemployment office, or acknowledging the humanity of someone begging for change by smiling and making eye contact with him, even if I have no money to give.

Compassion for the needs of others helps put my problems in perspective.  A broader perspective increases the chances of making a connection or finding a solution that helps alleviates my own worries.   It also provides me with a foundation for a greater sense of confidence, which I need when I’m trying to convince someone else to have confidence in me.

“A mind committed to compassion is like an overflowing reservoir – a constant source of energy, determination and kindness. This mind can also be likened to a seed; when cultivated, it gives rise to many other qualities, such as forgiveness, tolerance, inner strength, and the confidence to overcome fear and insecurity.”  Dalai Lama (Facebook post, July 9, 2010)

Having compassion for someone else, even when I am struggling to make ends meet, helps me, and can help you, too.  For your own sake, do it now.

Whether starting out or starting over, financially secure or struggling, we all need to assess how we balance our inward focus on financial success with an outward focus on service to others.  In my case, this has been a process of discerning my vocation.  As a result, I have made changes in my life, including career changes and a return to school to study sustainability.

Finding the integration I need is an ongoing process of learning and growth.  I hope that others will be inspired to somehow integrate career with service, because it has powerful potential to change the world for the better.

I do it for myself, and the hope of a better world.  Do it with me.  Do it now.

The Work of Christmas

A friend gave me a Christmas card with the following poem by Howard Thurman on it:

When the song of the angels is stilled,

When the start in the sky is gone,

When the kings and princes are home,

When the shepherds are back with their flock,

The work of Christmas begins:

To find the lost,

To heal the broken,

To feed the hungry,

To release the prisoner,

To rebuild the nations,

To bring peace among all,

To make music in the heart.

May we all seek to do the work of Christmas today and every day.

A Christmas Prayer

Dear God, the troubles of our world have left many of us speechless.

We don’t know how, in the numbness around jobs lost, illnesses we don’t have the resources to cure, a planet imperiled by the accumulated effects of our greed, and the seemingly endless presence of war and violence, to say our prayers.

We are lighting candles, though – in our Advent wreaths, quietly, in side chapels of our churches, in our rooms where no one else but You can see.

The candle flame is our prayer, wordless but filled with meaning, with petition, hope, and faith.

And the candle flame is your answer to our prayer. You lighten our darkness, O Lord.

Amen.

Bishop Marc Andrus