On my bulletin board at work I have a bright yellow sticky note with the words “Write.” “More.”. This was my gentle reminder to myself that I need write more words. Real words. In full sentences. Not just emails and Facebook updates. So often we find ourselves paring down our communication to 140 characters accentuated with emoticons and an excess of exclamation points, or the one I am most guilty of, the ellipsis, dot-dot-dot. I wonder if this can actually be considered communication let alone writing, and yet good and important conversations can happen in the text boxes of Facebook. As young-adult West Coast Brethren Facebook is often my lifeline connection to the larger denomination. It is how I build relationship, gain inspiration and challenge my faith. Recently, I engaged in a Facebook conversation around power and privilege. The question posed challenged how we do anti-oppresion work. How we talk about the ways power and privilege affect our lives and our faith. Who has the right to talk about oppression? How do we frame a conversation as to make sure “the older white men aren’t too uncomfortable”? How do we talk, really talk, about the crux of the challenges facing our denomination? Our Church is riddled with power and privilege minefields that we tip-toe around with the most care and fear. This conversation guided me to the realization that we need to create space to talk and to listen, it isn’t going to happen organically. We need to cultivate a community where people aren’t afraid to walk through the minefield, where we can share honestly and be heard without judgement. I am eager to create these spaces and opportunities. In the meantime, am thankful for the voices in our church who can speak up to power, who can call out privilege without shaming so we can move forward together with open eyes and hearts.
This week I came across a Holy Week liturgy resource that set my brain on fire. It got me excited about Holy Week again, and as a Professional Church Lady I’m with the clergy that find Holy Week to be exhausting and stressful and really anything but Holy. The words shared by The Liturgists, a collective of writers, musicians and artists working together to make thoughtful liturgical work, speaks to the doubt and darkness of Holy Week and dances in the light and renewal of Easter’s resurrection. It’s an “old story”, we hear it every year. Every year we hear the crowd call for Jesus’ crucifixion, the words echo in our head as he calls out with his last breath and even though we know how the story ends every year we sit in the darkness that fell over the city after he died. As Brethren we are called to make amends, to heal any broken relationships before we walk into that darkness together. Even though we have let go of much of the rigidity of that practice I think our Brothers and Sisters were on to something. We cannot sit in the uncomfortable darkness if our hearts and eyes are not open. We cannot walk into the resurrection of Easter if we are holding on to hurts. As a Church we cannot walk into the future of our faith if we are blind to each others oppression. We cannot build up our faith if we do not see each other as God sees us. As you walk into the darkness of Love Feast today, as you gather in service and wash each other’s feet, practice the vulnerability of being seen as God sees you, for God does not impart power or privilege on us. You cannot stoop at someones feet with power, you cannot practice this act of service without vulnerability, yours and mine. (And yes, I pre-wash my feet before Love Feast too, I see it as a courtesy to my brother or sister and not an act of vanity, but maybe that is my pride talking.)
If you are not where you can join in Love Feast this evening, spend some time listening to these spoken word liturgies. I have listened to Saturday and Sunday several times. Maybe you can even write some of your own words.
Blessings friends,
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