I try to say “Happy Fourth!”

~ Deb ~ 2 Comments 
and it sticks in my throat like a primal 
blockage that wants to give
way but can’t. 

The people of this beautiful land are
loving and generous and kind, for
the most part, but also angry and 
hateful, exclusionary, and possessive 
of the wealth of freedom they think 
they have. 

They came as immigrants, then 
ignored those already
here, like this sentence does. 
They came as immigrants, then
opposed those who would follow,
closing doors once held open for the 
yearning masses.

Not all, of course, and celebrations
demand a focus on the praiseworthy —
the stands taken for democracy, the
opportunities offered to outgrow our
selves, the social safety net we 
knit from strands of compassion and
a deep-seated aversion to sullying 
our beautiful lives with visions of 
poverty. 

She gives with one hand and takes 
away with the other, my motherland.
She preaches a hoarded freedom,
this limited paradise of promise.  
She offers crumbs from the table
as if that should ease our craving.

But I am she.  And you. And you. And
The immigrant. And the Cherokee. And
the Irish seeking relief from impoverished 
hunger. And the African seeking the
freedom stolen from them. 
And the Jew seeking life un-threatened. 
And the Palestinian seeking life un-threatened. 
And the Sudanese seeking
peace. And the Hindu and the 
Muslim and the Chinese and the
Ukrainian and the Serb and the 
Mexican and the fullness of the
human experience on this planet
that is home to us all.  

Mine is the patriotism of humanity, 
fueled by a democratic compassion,
honoring the republic that makes
us one. Let freedom ring.


Bully Pulpit

~ Deb ~ 4 Comments 
In Sunday School,
I learned that a 
person could live 
inside the belly of
a great fish for
three whole days

And a boat could 
be built that would
hold two of every
creature ever born
plus a family of
eight

And that a barely
pubescent shepherd
could slay a giant 
with a slingshot
and a well-aimed
stone.

And the Jesus
we heard about
fed people and 
welcomed children and
told stories about
kind strangers who
cared for others

And he talked 
about mercy and 
he talked about hope
and he talked about 
loving one another,
not as good ideas, but
as the essence of
righteousness. 

And how the ones
who taught me that
became advocates for
a theology of meanness,
mouthpieces for a
politics of hate,
soldiers in an army
of exclusion,
is a kind of reverse-
miracle I’ll never
understand.

Principled Retreat

~ Deb ~ Leave a comment

How much room should we give people who hold and express principles that violate our own?  

This sounds like an easy question, but like most things worth discussing,it can be more abstract.  What do we mean by “room”? Which people, exactly? How dramatic are the differences in principle? Do we have any hope in being a positive influence on one another? 

What about the co-worker who holds political opinions you don’t care for? No biggie.  Give a wide berth, don’t talk about that stuff at work, smile and nod.  Easy peasy. 

But what about the dear friend whose position wasn’t known to you while you were building what felt like a promising relationship, and then out of their mouth comes an intolerance that is at first stunning and then quickly evolves into a true conundrum?  Where’s the deal-killer line?  What are you willing to put up with?  When does your presence become a silent approval?  It’s hard to have a dear friend that you have to treat like an office co-worker with certain topics off-limits.  That seems to inherently limit the friendship. 

Everyone has to determine the line for themselves, but I believe some important considerations can be helpful guides. 

The first consideration is around harm and safety.  Obviously, if it feels unsafe, hightail it on outta there.  

The second consideration concerns the capacity for dialogue.  Are you able to have worthwhile and meaningful dialogue around this subject with your friend?  If not, well, how delicately do you want to have to dance every time you see them? 

The third consideration is your own energy.  You have the right to protect it, and if the friendship is becoming energetically exhausting for you because of this conflict, then you might need to step back.  

There is a fourth consideration I want to add that is especially important to me — if any of these would apply to a person not present, consider how important your advocacy role is to you.  For me, the line has always been clear.  If someone maintains a position steeped in bigotry, misogyny, homophobia, xenophobia, or racism, I don’t share space with them. Period. 

James Baldwin once said, “We can disagree and still love each other unless your disagreement is rooted in my oppression and denial of my humanity and right to exist.”  I would add that we can disagree and still love each other unless your disagreement is rooted in anyone’s oppression, the denial of anyone’s humanity, or the denial of anyone’s right to exist. 

My approach may not work for everybody, and it’s probably a good thing it doesn’t.  We need people who stay in the fray and have the argument.  We need people who ease folks around to a new idea without being so absolute.  I appreciate those folks.  I need them because I can’t be them.  

But I’m an Aries.  We’re weird that way. 

Religion Feng Shui

~ Deb ~ Leave a comment 
A friend says, “I’m practically
allergic to organized religion,” 
and I nod in solidarity and
sisterhood.  I joke, “I'm
far more comfortable with
disorganized religion.” 

Then I go home and check 
Merriam-Webster because English
professors do that a lot more
often than you might think, and it
tells me that religion is “an organized
system of religious attitudes, beliefs,
and practices,” and I realize that 
“organized religion” is redundant.

It doesn’t impact my friend’s
position, but my standup routine
has to change.  I’m not comfortable
with religion period.  I’m not comfortable
with the idea that moral behavior
can be organized into a list of 
dos and don’ts. I’m not comfortable
with the intentions of a singular
creator being known and owned by
this or that hierarchical, patriarchal,
oligarchical, pseudo-monarchical 
“non-profit” organization. I am not
comfortable with any one way being
determined the arbiter of sacredness,
the magistrate of love.  

So once again, since it came
up, I check the layout of my
philosophy.  I rearrange the furniture
of my creed.  I tweak the angle 
of my theology and take residual 
dogma out with the trash. I remember
again that the only value in any of it
is the degree to which it reminds me
of who I am, the freedom with which 
it allows life to flow like a breeze
or a river or a bird gliding on energy
unseen by a physical eye but
undeniable in the experience
of the flier. 

It was still funny, though.