Tire-d

A companion on my spiritual journey asked me to come up with an analogy for ministry. It’s still a work in progress, and definitely nothing profound, but:

Ministry is like air in a tire. 

The air in our tires is something that is necessary. Without air in our tires, we would cause damage to the rims, possibly other parts of the vehicle (car, bike, whatever). And so we need to pay attention to the air in our tires.

Most days, everything is fine. Nothing needs to be done.

But sometimes, we start to notice the air is getting a bit low. And, if we don’t do something, we might get into trouble.

Sometimes we notice the air is very low—and that means there’s imminent challenges and potential damages unless we take action fast.

Sometimes a tire can be too inflated, causing the tire to stretch in unhealthy and unhelpful ways—a different type of damage.

Sometimes, a sharp obstacle or pothole can cause a tire to just blow out unexpectedly.

To be sure, a slow leak is more common, and more fixable, but you never know what is on the road ahead, or hidden under a puddle, and you can’t always avoid hazards, and who knows what inner, unseen stresses may be causing some weakness.

A flat tire is unhelpful for the journey.
A flat ministry is also unhelpful for the journey.

Ministry is like the air in the tires—it needs to be checked on a regular basis. Sometimes it’s good, sometimes it needs a bit of a top up, sometimes it needs some immediate attention to prevent irreparable damage, sometimes damage can happen when we least expect it.

But the air in the tires, of our ministry, should always be checked as part of the journey.

May our ministry be examined and maintained like our tires are, and repaired when necessary, to ensure that the journey goes as smoothly as possible.

Holey Socks

There are times when I admit, I miss the obvious.

A few weeks ago, for instance...  I was attending a session in a shoe-free zone, and when I looked down at my crossed feet, noticed a hole in my sock. A reasonable size, it was unlikely to have just popped up during the morning. How had I missed that when I put my socks on?!

I changed the crossing of my legs, not wanting to show the room my hole-y sock. Imagine my surprise, doubled, when I looked and saw that the other sock also had a hole in its heel. Clearly, my powers of observation had been entirely absent that morning. 

This led me to reflect on what else I could be missing in my life. What else was happening, that would have been obvious and apparent, had I been open and aware to it?

The holes in my socks had not just happened suddenly; they must have been wearing down over time. I do not dress in the dark, so I could have seen the holes at any time. Why did it take a time when there was nothing else happening to notice that something so basic was left wanting attention?

So too, our spiritual journey is one that wants regular reflection and care. Is our prayer life in good condition, or Is it wearing in places? Are we looking for places of weakness in order to be more gentle with ourselves in those places? Are we looking to strengthen and maintain other areas? Are our practices just routine enough that we assure ourselves we have done them? Are we intentionally going sufficiently deep within ourselves to seek out this awareness? Are we spending enough time to be carefully reflective, amidst the busyness of life?

Whatever our journey, we know we can always do better. Our practices can always use attention, and maybe change. Whatever the format (or combinations thereof), we are challenged to greater awareness of self and of God; to our own benefit and to the benefit of the broader community.

Wherever we are on our journey, we know we are walking with God. My prayer is that my journey will be in better repair than my socks!

Names

Shadow the Fruitbat

I've been thinking about names this week; partly as Shadow's ears (and toothiness) have earned him the moniker "fruitbat," partly as ourt confirmation classes have discussed some of the ways we name God, some as I've learned names, forgotten names, and used names. 
Names matter; and how we use them matters.

We all know what it feels like to hear a loved one say our name; this is not simply a word, it is a relationship. Our names show the world who we are, be they our formal names or shortened versions or nicknames. Be it the declaration of a name in baptism or a friendly nickname earned through shared history, we know that names have power. Names highlight connection.

We show respect and dignity by getting names and pronouns correct and accurate, by communicating in with appropriate manners. We may need a few tries to learn or re-learn proper pronunciation or preference, but it is time well spent; and we appreciate the patience others extend when we fumble.

When we apply this to our faith, we recognise that names also speak of relationship with God. Our scriptures are full of people and places where the name tells us about character or activity (i.e. Esau’s hirsutism providing his name, or the Hebrew Ednah for pleasure having the same root as Eden).

Our connection with God is rich in relationship; we share a history, we enjoy a current connection, we anticipate our interconnected future. And we recognise that this relationship is different than any other we have; for it is with the divine.

And so we name God differently. Whatever word we use, our spirits connect in a different manner than how we relate even to our most beloved here on earth.

Leonard Cohen writes (in Book of Mercy, #15): “This is the way we summon each other, but it is not the way we call upon the Name. … How beautiful our heritage, to have this way of speaking to eternity, how bountiful this solitude, surrounded, filled, and mastered by the Name, from which all things arise in splendour, depending one upon the other.”

Perhaps a sign of our spiritual maturity will be when we use names with one another in this earthly realm, with the same gentleness, beauty, and reverence that we save for The Name; for within each person before us is a spark of the divine, waiting keenly, patiently, to be called instead of summoned.

The right encounter at the right time...

About a week ago, Comet and I welcomed a new friend into the house. Comet had been getting a bit lonely, and after a few inquiries and meet-and-greets and applications, Shadow came to us.
He’s a rescue who was in a foster home, for longer than they had expected, with no discernable reason for the extended foster. But they loved him, and when Comet and I met him, it was a natural fit.

While the transition has been really smooth, it’s still a transition; there’s new patterns to develop, new areas for him to explore, new understandings of rules and boundaries, etc.
The right dog finds you at the right time.

I also believe that we encounter the right people at the right time.

I believe that God puts people in our path, and there’s the opportunity to learn and grow from these encounters.

Some folks may become long term friends and chosen family. Others may be short term associations. Some are situationally dependent. Others may be brief interactions that feel like chance.

Whatever they are, they are an opportunity for us to do the best we can. We can’t always know the impact we have on other people, but we can try our best.

We can avoid doing things that we know will be damaging; we can lean towards ways that build one another up. We can establish healthy parameters to minimise confusion or disrespect. We can collaborate towards justice and peace. We can advocate for those who are silenced or oppressed.

There’s lots we can do; but I think the main idea for me is to see each encounter as a learning opportunity: a chance to understand each encounter as being someone God has put in my path, and to do my best to do my best.

Shocking Stats and Holy Week

UNHQ at night

During CSW, it’s common for delegates from faith-based organisations to connect, both in planned and unscheduled ways. (For example, Ecumenical Women at the UN is a coalition of FBOs that gather for worship, shared advocacy, prayer and support, and deep deep friendships form).

Often in the conversations and debriefs we will share something we’ve learned that has stayed with us. Many are shocked by the statistics and stories of the extent and implications of gender inequality.

One such conversation this year had a first-time participant not only shocked by the statistic they were sharing, but by the response from some of us who have been doing this for some time: namely, (namely that we were not shocked by the statistic).

It isn’t that we don’t find such inequalities appalling, but that we have been in this forum long enough to have heard them many times. Our repulsion at these statistics fuels our efforts year-round. Someone this year (on their first day) commented “I’ve read the reports, but I have underestimated just how important and urgent this work is!”

Sometimes, a subtle shift in how data are presented can cause this shake-up. (An example; I recall when I learned that globally around 800 women die of pregnancy-related complications every day; yet when it was presented as comparable to 2 airplanes (747s) full of pregnant women crashing every day, everyone in the room gasped)

We go to CSW to be shaken up. And to shake up. We come home to continue to shake things up, as we continue to do the work that God has called us to.

This seems fitting as we enter into Holy Week: a time to ponder what is happening in our lives and in our faith; a time to be shaken up, to face the realities of the world we live in (and the world we want to live in).

The scriptures and liturgies of Palm Sunday and Holy Week are so well-known to us. We know the narrative, we do our best to open our hearts to the journey that we may grow spiritually as we journey towards the feast of the resurrection.

Perhaps this year God is calling us to be shaken up anew; to dive a bit deeper into the mysteries and meanings of what the scriptures are telling us. To think differently about this well-known narrative; to read it with fresh eyes, inquiring minds, and discerning hearts.

Perhaps we could spend some time this week, reading and praying over the word of God. Imagine if we had a conversation with someone else about how the scriptures are speaking to us; about connections we see with modern events, about ways that we feel God is speaking to us.

Imagine how much more we might learn and be inspired by the scriptures, in this already very deeply spiritual time; imagine how much more joyous our Easter Gospel might sound if we allow God to show us how important and urgent the spiritual work of Holy work is.

May God bless us on this Holy Week journey.

Politics and Sausages (and Dog Parks)

There’s an adage that politics and sausages are two things one wouldn’t want to see being made. That’s because they’re messy and often include some unappealing bits, though the end result is somewhat smooth and desirable.

As someone who embraces her inner political animal, and actively engages in politics, I don’t disagree with the adage. Having spent the past few weeks attending the UNCSW, and having done much reading and advocacy ahead of time, I can share that this CSW was messier than most in process and purpose (as we are facing greater pushback against equal rights). The road to Agreed Conclusions was bumpier than normal, with shifting political practices and alliances; and a decrease in civil discourse and decorum (even in the Chamber!). I have opinions.

A few days of reflection has me considering a different adage than sausages… I think this year, politics at the UNCSW (and elsewhere) is more like a dog park in March.
(Comet gladly came with me for some ‘research’ into this analogy)

The dog park is a great space – lots of room for roaming around, within well-established (and fully fenced) parameters. There are some high spots and low spots, some trees, and some well-worn paths. The opportunity to connect and interact with others is abundant, depending on who is there at any given time. Normally, all goes well, but sometimes skirmishes can occur between pups – these can be resolved by some distance (either going to a different part of the park, or someone going home), and at times some outside intervention (from the respective humans)
The analogy doesn’t need much explanation here.

Presently, the dog park landscape is both the same and different: the March Melt is upon us. This means things are a tad messier than normal. The fencing is less secure in the weakened soil, creating a potential disruption in the security of the parameter. In the low-lying spots, large puddles have formed, which leaves uncertainty about what exactly is in there (including sharp edges on ice)… it also makes for a splashy mess when someone goes in/through. The pathways are far from smooth, as in sections there is really oozy and smelly mud (the kind that tries to suck you in, and even after you’re through it lingers); and in other sections there are some unexpected slippery parts where black ice remains a hazard. Staying on the areas where the snow build-up remains is no longer the solid place it was, as the foundation has started to destabilise, and it’s common to fall through. And, the thawing snow often reveals quite an abundance of ‘surprises’ that had been deposited (and were either unseen or ignored – or intentionally hidden) are no longer covered by the snow. (In politics as at the dog park, poop happens.)
Sadly, I don’t think this extended analogy needs much explanation either.

What this highlights for me is the potential to clean up. For those doing the work of justice, it can look intimidating and ugly and uninspiring. Yet we are committed to the work, the work that we have been called to: be it at home or in larger political spaces. It’s messy, and takes time and effort, but it is holy work. And as with the dog park, we know the safe space and beauty that we can return to – where all who come can benefit and flourish.
In the meantime, we still go to the park – we just bring towels for some immediate cleanup.

Collared

In my last CSW blog, I mentioned the perception of context, and suggested I’d write a separate blog about that.
And here it is!

There are many ways that people demonstrate their position on issues, or where they’re from; t-shirts, flags, pins, uniforms, colours (for example, Thursdays In Black is a global campaign where we wear black in solidarity, advocating for a world without rape and any form of Gender Based Violence). Formerly we would load up our UN Grounds passes with badges and insignia of organisations and causes we support, but as those are no longer permitted, we have found other ways to communicate our stance.

During CSW, I wear my collar. A lot. Many clergy do (if we come from a collar-wearing tradition); when we are there representing our denomination or tradition, it’s a good and simple way to witness even if we don’t say a word. The context of women in a collar at these events speaks volumes.

In meetings with other advocates and civil society organisations, it situates us as to what brought us to the Commission. On Mission visits, the collar is a great conversation starter (at the Canadian Mission reception, for example, more than one person looked at me and asked – “Anglican?”).

In sessions, it serves to quickly identify who we are and who we represent. In the current political climate, it’s especially important to identify as faithful feminists (not as part of the growing anti-rights movement). Often in sessions we endeavour to ask panelists how they engage with Faith-Based Organisations to work against the anti-gender and anti-rights movement.

Because there are many agencies and organisations wishing to partner with people of faith; we are constantly finding new ways to align values and priorities.
(An aside, this is where ecumenical connections become so helpful, as we share vast knowledge and experience through amazing people who have collectively been in this forum for decades, and whose ministry spans the globe in ways that far exceed any one denominational capability)

After one session where we did not get the chance to ask our question in plenary, one of the speakers approached us, commenting on the positive influence of having female clergy in the session. It had become apparent that we were not there to disrupt the session, but to learn from it and support the good work that was being shared. (There were a distressing amount of individuals this year who were there to protest equal rights, especially around sexual and reproductive health.) We had a most intriguing conversation with these staff, who have requested ongoing conversation and collaboration; an opportunity that may not have otherwise come up.

Being easily identified as clergy also opened up a number of conversations where people asked for a blessing, or for prayer, or to speak with us about things that were weighing on their hearts. CSW is normally a time of heavy topics, and this year’s discussions seemed heavier than normal (given the emphasis from some nation states to push back women’s rights); many strangers simply stopped us from time to time for a brief moment of holy connection with us and God.

Perception matters: in a context and climate where the some are claiming their religiosity as an excuse for hatred, oppression, and division, we chose to ensure it was a symbol of acceptance, advocacy, and solidarity. Our faith calls us to stand for peace and justice, and what a blessing to carry and share that reminder in a small collar.