Practicing Deep Community, Deep Hope, Deep Belief

On April 16, 2023 I had the honor of sharing my reflections with my church community. Below is a slightly extended and updated version of what I shared. Even with the small additions and updates, there is still so much more to say.

from the left a hand holds a lit match next to a short lit canlde in a flower-shaped candle holder. The background is all black.

Second Sunday of Easter, Sunday of Divine Mercy

Acts 2:42-47; 1 Peter 1:3-9; John 20: 19-31

Good morning. It is so good to be with you all today. What a week it’s been. I have talked to many people who feel heart-broken, despondent, angry, frustrated, helpless, hopeless. Perhaps you are feeling these, too. We bring this collective pain, as well as our individual struggles, into this second Sunday of Easter. Today’s readings show us practices of deep community, invite us to root in deep hope, and encourage us to practice deep belief in the Christ of transformation, the Christ that has been with us for all time and was embodied for us through Jesus’ resurrection.

In our first reading we hear how the community of disciples shared all things in common and allocated resources according to need. In the second reading from the first letter of Peter and the gospel reading from John, we are invited into hope, into the practice of believing. To be sure, believing and expanding our hope are practices. If you are like Thomas, if you are like me, hope and trust in renewal and resurrection fluctuate and waver, particularly in times like these, when there is so much to grieve.

If you ever struggle to believe in what you cannot see, I offer a simple, but not always easy invitation: broaden your perspective. Orient yourself in another direction. Practice patience. We only need look to our yards and gardens to see that Life is stronger than death. Resurrection is the way of Creation. This isn’t to say we should ignore the pain and harm in the world, but rather to remember that it is only a part of the picture. Then we can seek the places where in the midst of it all, people are taking steps toward care, healing, and restoration. Ask yourself the question: What do I want to see? And then keep your eyes open for it.

I want to see a world of vibrant community in which meeting needs is prioritized over unfettered accumulation. I could easily look around and not see this. AND there are places where people are operating differently from the dominant cultural norms.

Here at St. William we are strengthening our interconnected community through small groups and community retreats. When members of the community express a need, others step up, offering resources in ways that support individual and collective well-being within and beyond our church community. When our LGBTQ+ siblings are hurting, when our Black and Brown siblings are hurting, when our immigrant and refugee siblings are hurting, our leadership makes public statements affirming that they, you, we all are worthy of care; individual community members write letters, rally in Frankfort, collect resources, and otherwise tend to needs. When members of the St. William community saw that free trade did not mean fair trade, Just Creations was born, now 33 years ago. These are just a few of our works of community. These are acts of seeing the Risen Christ and recognizing that we play a role in its joyful fruition. This is believing in the value of salvific acts, even when we’re not sure of outcomes.

What is the world you want to see? I want to see a world in which all people feel safe enough and supported enough that they don’t turn to guns to protect, defend, or avenge. I want to see a world in which violence is not seen as a viable and desirable strategy to meet needs. We are 106 days into 2023 and in the United States there have been at least 161 mass shootings, in which at least 4 people were injured or killed with a gun. I suspect that since the 146th such shooting happened Monday at Old National Bank in downtown Louisville, many of us have been feeling the impact of this ongoing violence particularly strongly. Last night at Chickasaw Park, Louisville experienced another mass shooting- 2 dead, 4 injured- the 158th in the country, the second in a week for our city. This was one of 7 mass shootings that happened on April 15th in the United States, the largest being in the small town of Dadesville, AL, where 4 people were killed and 20 injured at a Sweet 16 party. These are only the mass shootings, not even counting the other injuries and deaths from gun violence.

I do not put my faith in guns or violence. Guns are not part of the story of the Risen Christ. I do not put my faith solely in gun legislation. Stricter gun laws are a stopgap, but they’re only one step toward creating greater collective safety. I put my faith in the multi-faceted and creative expression of people power.

Two and a half weeks ago, I was one of a few hundred people from around Louisville who participated in an anti-violence summit with the guiding question, “What if Louisville were the safest city in the world?” I believe in the people who were in that room- the violence interrupters, the mental health professionals, the restorative justice and conflict resolution teachers and practitioners, the elders who have shown us the efficacy of nonviolence.

I have seen the power of nonviolence on the streets of Louisville, at Standing Rock, in Palestine, in Colombia, in Guatemala, and other places in the world. Erica Chenoweth’s extensive and ongoing research on nonviolent and violent movements gives any doubters evidence to show that nonviolent social movements for change are twice as effective as violent movements and all such movements that have involved just 3.5% of the population have succeeded. 3.5% Echoing the second reading, there is cause for rejoicing here.

The world I wish to see is one in which we are so bound to one another that we don’t need laws to restrict guns because no one has used them to hurt others. I dream of a world in which we don’t have prisons or police forces because we choose other ways of addressing and repairing harm. Beyond St. William we also have models of these, places where small pockets of people are practicing care-filled community.* We can see them. When we struggle to see and believe, may we turn toward one another and lean into the love-filled creative potential of Christ in our midst.   

We shall be known by the company we keep
by the ones who circle round to tend these fires
We shall be known by the ones who sow and reap
the seeds of change alive from deep within the earth

It is time now
It is time now that we thrive
It is time we lead ourselves into the well
It is time now, and what a time to be alive
In this great turning we shall learn to lead in love
In this great turning we shall learn to lead in love

(Listen here to “We Shall Be Known,” by MaMuse, performed by thrive East Bay Choir)

*In future writing I will name some of the places and people that help me hold onto hope.

Power and Choice...Boundaries and Consent

In my last post, I wrote about power and choice in times of limited options. Today I want to offer my still-forming thoughts on boundaries and consent. In the age of coronavirus, we are being invited to explore boundaries and consent in new and very obvious ways.  

Here in Kentucky, as in many places in the U.S., we currently have a mask mandate for public indoor spaces. Wearing a mask in these spaces is something I’m willing to do. Based on the information I’ve gathered from a variety of sources, I make the conscious choice to follow the mandate. It’s not because I’m blindly following authority or because I am particularly fearful.

I don’t enjoy wearing the mask, but I consent to doing it in the interest of public health. I practice social distancing for the same reason. I also know that, along with the public health benefits, my decision to do both brings a greater sense of peace, a lowering of anxiety for those who face greater risks than I. In a time when so many people are experiencing anxiety for so many reasons, if I can help bring a greater sense of ease to someone, I will.

Last week I was standing in a long line and as the line moved along, I noticed my extreme discomfort with how close the person behind me was. She was not following social distancing guidelines and I could feel her near me. I was actually a little surprised by my discomfort because in other circumstances, I haven’t been so uncomfortable being in close proximity to others. As the line moved, I tried to move in ways that kept us farther apart. She continued to be closer than was comfortable for me. Finally, I turned around and said something like, “Hi, I’m feeling uncomfortable with how close we are. Would you be willing to stay a little farther back?” I didn’t know what she’d say, but thankfully, for the remainder of the time we were in line, she stayed farther back. She respected my boundary. I relaxed.

Earlier that same day I walked with a friend. When we met up, she was wearing a mask. I asked if she wanted me to put my mask on, too. She said yes. Normally when I go for walks, I don’t wear a mask, but because my friend said she’d prefer I wear it and because I want to respect her boundaries, I put my mask on.

This morning I walked with a different friend. She was wearing a mask. I asked If she wanted me to put my mask on, too. She said no. I asked if she was sure about that and she said yes, so I didn’t wear my mask. In both circumstances we negotiated boundaries and came to a place of consent.

I haven’t had negative encounters with people around masks or social distancing, though I’ve seen many stories about people aggressively crossing those boundaries. Refusing to wear a mask in public spaces. Refusing to social distance. Getting angry when asked to respect someone else’s boundaries, whether an individual’s or a business’s. In some cases, ignoring boundaries suggested or mandated for public health reasons has increased the spread of COVID, and even led to some people dying.

Is this really the world we want to live in? Where one person’s comfort and desire is more important than someone else’s safety? Or public safety?

With these questions, my mind flies to the theme of comfort vs. safety, power, choices, boundaries and consent as they relate to the movement for racial justice. That topic merits its own post (or two, or three, or four…) and so I mention it with the intention to return to it another day.    

Until then I will answer the above questions for myself. I’d be curious to know your answers, too.

I don’t want to live in a world where we can’t trust each other to respect boundaries, whether related to masks, social distancing, sharing personal information, sexual behavior and other issues of body autonomy, or anything else.

I want to live in a world in where I can state my boundaries and trust that you’ll respect them, even and especially when your comfort or desire is different from mine.

I want to live in a world where we’re willing to consider that we may not know the full story of someone else’s boundaries and that we don’t need to know the whys in order to respect them.

I want to live in a world where we put communal safety before personal comfort.

I want to live in a world where asking for consent in our interactions with others is common practice.

As with my last post, there is so much more to say. I haven’t touched the idea of boundaries and consent in relationships where power is unequal. That, too, merits more than just this mention. Maybe I am the one to write about it, maybe you are…

I’ll close with this: This work is deep. It is complicated. It is messy. It is hard. It is beautiful. Navigating boundaries and consent is a practice. And so again, I invite you to explore these themes for yourself and, if you choose, to practice with me.