despite the heat, it is a day to party in san francisco.
the california supreme court just overturned a state law that banned same-sex marriage, saying that constitutionally, all couples have the right to marry.
within thirty days, gay and lesbian couples will be able to MARRY in california.
thank God.
within minutes, the entire decision was available online (it is over one hundred pages... gotta love technology) and i want to read it. i have made it through three pages.
this puts the church in california in an interesting position, and puts clergy in an even more interesting position. PCUSA says you can't marry a same-sex couple. you could do another ceremony not approximating marriage, but no marriage. this was less of an issue when all that was available was domestic partnership. will the clergy who believe in same sex marriage step up? can they really bring charges against everyone if hundreds of marriages happen?
and then there is the question of ordination. if it is now possible to live in fidelity in marriage, can the church hold its ground in excluding the GLBTQ community from ministry?
i hope and i pray that this is only the beginning and that we see changes in other states and within in the church.
Thursday, May 15, 2008
Monday, May 12, 2008
free to practice?
ann curry interviewed members of the FLDS church in Texas where the huge raid was carried out last month. one mother interviewed has not seen her sons in 37 days and has only seen her daughters once in that time.
this interview used questions from the public that were emailed to the today show. so, after asking the members of the community for a definition of abuse, ann asked, "if you knew there was abuse happening on the ranch, would you do something to stop it?"
that question is demeaning and condescending. a basic human assumption we make about each other is that we will stop suffering if we can. we tend to think of people who are equal to us as good people who would never stand for something like abuse. so why then is it an appropriate question to ask these FLDS parents if they would stop abuse?
i do not agree with much, if any, of the theology of the FLDS church (what I know of it) and certainly a lot of their practices. i do not know how to feel about the raid. but, i hate to see people demeaned for their faith. there is this cultural assumption that people who believe anything outside the religious norm (this is different depending on where you are) are stupid. i felt like ann talked to these parents like they were stupid. of course they would stop abuse. if you push them, they are not going to change their minds and admit it. and even if they wouldn't stop abuse, they would not admit that on national television.
in this country, in public, it is still okay to treat people differently based on their religious beliefs. why?
this interview used questions from the public that were emailed to the today show. so, after asking the members of the community for a definition of abuse, ann asked, "if you knew there was abuse happening on the ranch, would you do something to stop it?"
that question is demeaning and condescending. a basic human assumption we make about each other is that we will stop suffering if we can. we tend to think of people who are equal to us as good people who would never stand for something like abuse. so why then is it an appropriate question to ask these FLDS parents if they would stop abuse?
i do not agree with much, if any, of the theology of the FLDS church (what I know of it) and certainly a lot of their practices. i do not know how to feel about the raid. but, i hate to see people demeaned for their faith. there is this cultural assumption that people who believe anything outside the religious norm (this is different depending on where you are) are stupid. i felt like ann talked to these parents like they were stupid. of course they would stop abuse. if you push them, they are not going to change their minds and admit it. and even if they wouldn't stop abuse, they would not admit that on national television.
in this country, in public, it is still okay to treat people differently based on their religious beliefs. why?
Sunday, May 11, 2008
still an intern
"i will pour my spirit out on all people."
happy pentecost.
big fan of the holy spirit that i am, i love pentecost. so, of course, i volunteered to do something to pentecostalize that mission bay worship space.
i set off with the best of intentions. i gathered translations of the phrase above (from acts and joel) into as many as man languages as i could find. i purchased yards of orange, red and maroon fabric, and lettered the phrase onto the fabric. i had visions of draping, translucent fabric fluttering above our heads as we sang and prayed.
the road to hell is paved with good intentions. thank god poorly hung fabric is not an offense that gets you sent there (is it?). kidding.
i get to church early, to find that i can't quite reach as high as i had hoped from our tallest ladder, so where i can hang fabric from is limited. then i discovered that much of the lettering wasn't readable. so i fussed with it for more than an hour, mostly stopping because the band was ready to practice. not particularly happy with it, but deciding to live with it i moved on.
as worship began i discovered that i made a bit of a mistake. the way i had hung the fabric, if you were sitting on the sides of our semi-circle, the screen (where we project corporate prayers and song lyrics) was not entirely visible. doh.
today's intern lesson was in humility.
i hope the holy spirit didn't notice and used my fabric mess to move through worship somehow.
happy pentecost.
big fan of the holy spirit that i am, i love pentecost. so, of course, i volunteered to do something to pentecostalize that mission bay worship space.
i set off with the best of intentions. i gathered translations of the phrase above (from acts and joel) into as many as man languages as i could find. i purchased yards of orange, red and maroon fabric, and lettered the phrase onto the fabric. i had visions of draping, translucent fabric fluttering above our heads as we sang and prayed.
the road to hell is paved with good intentions. thank god poorly hung fabric is not an offense that gets you sent there (is it?). kidding.
i get to church early, to find that i can't quite reach as high as i had hoped from our tallest ladder, so where i can hang fabric from is limited. then i discovered that much of the lettering wasn't readable. so i fussed with it for more than an hour, mostly stopping because the band was ready to practice. not particularly happy with it, but deciding to live with it i moved on.
as worship began i discovered that i made a bit of a mistake. the way i had hung the fabric, if you were sitting on the sides of our semi-circle, the screen (where we project corporate prayers and song lyrics) was not entirely visible. doh.
today's intern lesson was in humility.
i hope the holy spirit didn't notice and used my fabric mess to move through worship somehow.
Tuesday, May 6, 2008
adventures at btech
have chairs will travel.
if i never pick up another chair i will be happy. i feel like i spent the whole morning moving chairs.
but, when all was said and done, the spirit moved.
from teh beginning... s,o we have spent one morning a week over the last month hanging out with students at berkeley technical academy in the youth spirit artworks program. they paint chairs as an entrepreneurial project. it is an art class during the day, an after school program, and a summer program.
in solidarity, after a couple of conversations with this group, our small art and liberation class decided to paint chairs, too. we all picked five modern saints and prophets to memorialize on chairs.
today, we went with the intention of displaying the chairs that the students painted, honoring their hard work all year, and doing a small "ritual" to memorialize friends and family who have been lost to violence in the btech community... with food.
the best part of the whole process has been the people. the two women who are on staff with this program are incredible. they are tireless, flexible, compassionate and engaged. the students have accomplished something by getting to school. the janitor mentioned that some of the students would not have eaten today if it wasn't for our free community meal. there are some incredible artists who have developed serious skills in less than a year of art classes. there are relationships of support between the students and faculty, and among the students.
i had a long chat with my new friend ciana. she was hilarious and knows it. she made an excellent metaphor between her life and cereal. unsweetened cereal needs a little bit of sugar to balance it. order in her life needs a little bit of chaos (and vice verse) to be balanced. theology at work.
as music played, much to my delight, students participated in our ritual. they went up and wrote names of people who had died, or their heroes, on leaves and put them on a tree. students sitting around, even if they did not participate in that way, spoke about the issues and shared their stories. i felt privileged to be a part of this community in this moment in this small way.
the challenge now is deeper theological reflection on the meaning of this process, both for us and for the community. i need to do serious thinking about how art is a tool of theology and how i can use it well. this was the practical application, but to complete the circle i need to keep thinking on it. it was not all rainbows and roses, but the spirit was there.
if i never pick up another chair i will be happy. i feel like i spent the whole morning moving chairs.
but, when all was said and done, the spirit moved.
from teh beginning... s,o we have spent one morning a week over the last month hanging out with students at berkeley technical academy in the youth spirit artworks program. they paint chairs as an entrepreneurial project. it is an art class during the day, an after school program, and a summer program.
in solidarity, after a couple of conversations with this group, our small art and liberation class decided to paint chairs, too. we all picked five modern saints and prophets to memorialize on chairs.
today, we went with the intention of displaying the chairs that the students painted, honoring their hard work all year, and doing a small "ritual" to memorialize friends and family who have been lost to violence in the btech community... with food.
the best part of the whole process has been the people. the two women who are on staff with this program are incredible. they are tireless, flexible, compassionate and engaged. the students have accomplished something by getting to school. the janitor mentioned that some of the students would not have eaten today if it wasn't for our free community meal. there are some incredible artists who have developed serious skills in less than a year of art classes. there are relationships of support between the students and faculty, and among the students.
i had a long chat with my new friend ciana. she was hilarious and knows it. she made an excellent metaphor between her life and cereal. unsweetened cereal needs a little bit of sugar to balance it. order in her life needs a little bit of chaos (and vice verse) to be balanced. theology at work.
as music played, much to my delight, students participated in our ritual. they went up and wrote names of people who had died, or their heroes, on leaves and put them on a tree. students sitting around, even if they did not participate in that way, spoke about the issues and shared their stories. i felt privileged to be a part of this community in this moment in this small way.
the challenge now is deeper theological reflection on the meaning of this process, both for us and for the community. i need to do serious thinking about how art is a tool of theology and how i can use it well. this was the practical application, but to complete the circle i need to keep thinking on it. it was not all rainbows and roses, but the spirit was there.
Monday, May 5, 2008
roots and wings
Morning has broken, like the first morning.
My mom used to sing this to me sometimes when I was falling asleep. My mom is singer by enthusiasm. She instilled that in me. That music is in my bones, in my spine, breathed into me as she subbed my back to get me to sleep.
Now, in seminary, we talk about the hymnal. “Morning Has Broken” is hymn number 469 in the Presbyterian Hymnal. Like it or not, this is where I come from. My culture (or at least a decent chunk of it) is the big blue leather bound hymnal with practically ancient songs in words that are no longer vernacular (although kudos to the latest tradition that changed His to God’s in “Morning Has Broken”). I am reformed.
But that is not all that I am. I am those moments in the night, comforted by the picture that songs paints for me of God’s feet treading in the morning dew, tickled by the feathery grass, delighting in every bit that was made. I am more, and I grow from my tradition.
My mom used to sing this to me sometimes when I was falling asleep. My mom is singer by enthusiasm. She instilled that in me. That music is in my bones, in my spine, breathed into me as she subbed my back to get me to sleep.
Now, in seminary, we talk about the hymnal. “Morning Has Broken” is hymn number 469 in the Presbyterian Hymnal. Like it or not, this is where I come from. My culture (or at least a decent chunk of it) is the big blue leather bound hymnal with practically ancient songs in words that are no longer vernacular (although kudos to the latest tradition that changed His to God’s in “Morning Has Broken”). I am reformed.
But that is not all that I am. I am those moments in the night, comforted by the picture that songs paints for me of God’s feet treading in the morning dew, tickled by the feathery grass, delighting in every bit that was made. I am more, and I grow from my tradition.
what i did all weekend
chauncey bailey is not someone i ever met. i did not read anything he wrote until after he died. i did not even become a resident of the place he was born and the place he died until after his murder. but, i found myself compelled by his work, his story, his life, and his death.
he died on the sidewalk around the corner from my new apartment. he went the the mcdonald's every morning that is at the end of my block. everyday, he walked down 14th st. to work. he poured his heart and soul into this city, believing he could make a
difference by sharing information, telling the truth. his work gave hope. he died for it, because of it. he is a saint in my book. i would have not known this, would not have engaged his legacy if i did not paint a chair in honor of him. i probably did not do his legacy justice, but his legacy has changed me. for my liberation art class, i painted five chairs, the last of which as finished last night, in honor of five (well, eight) modern saints and prophets. these chairs will be used as a part of a ritual at be
rkeley technical academy tomorrow in conjunction with Youth Spirit Artworks. in this process i have engaged with history. personal history, community history, even the history of the objects i painted. we chose the saints and prophets we painted, from a list that the our class that the YSA group came up with. i chose people i was drawn too, but also people i wanted to learn about. i wanted to wrestle with the legacy these folks left behind, looking at ways that i live into or against that legacy. memory and history is important to be conscious of. everything embodies it. we embody it in even interaction we have. our space bleeds it stories, or objects accumulate them on their surface. the history of the chairs i painted impact my design by limiting it or encouraging it based on the chairs physical characteristics.
From the to down, my chairs are dedicated to:
chair #1...
chauncey bailey
chair #2...
addie mae collins
carole robertson
cynthia wesley
denise mcnair
the four girls who died in the
16th St. Baptist Church bombing
in birmingham in 1963
chair #3...
malcolm x
chair #4...
jimi hendrix
chair #5...
pablo picasso
Friday, May 2, 2008
communing with saints
as an artist, visiting art always feels like communing with the saints, particularly in museums. you see, i feel the presence of van gogh in his brush strokes. it gives my heart a thrill when my nose is inches from the paint that he breathed life into. this evening's art murmur was no exception. i was surrounded, over and over, by souls poured out over canvas, bronze, clay, found objects, everything. but it was not my usual communion.
at a gallery, i have no idea what to do. i am great in museums. i can quietly contemplate art, allow it to bring me to the heights of joy and the depths of sorrow... politely, on my own, at my own pace and in my own space.
galleries are different. viewing art is suddenly social. people chatting with their friends about the pieces, each trying to sound smarter, more cultured than the other (yes, i realize i am a cynic about this whole art world thing). people dress for the occasion, and i generally don't dress for any occasion unless a dress code (or the my-mother-would-die-if-i-didn't-dress-up-for-this code) warrants it. i feel like an outsider. the kid who didn't' get picked for kick ball. the one standing by themselves in the gym waiting to be asked to dance. i am the wallflower in the gallery, afraid to talk, afraid to engage.
what is with that?
this time my art was even on the wall in one of the galleries (just one small piece). which was a first. but seeing it there brought me no thrill... just made me more uncomfortable.
so i have to work on claiming this gift of art that i have been given. i have to get to work. i have to be on the scene more. i have to see what this artist thing is about. i have to define for myself what that means. this is my goal for the summer.
at a gallery, i have no idea what to do. i am great in museums. i can quietly contemplate art, allow it to bring me to the heights of joy and the depths of sorrow... politely, on my own, at my own pace and in my own space.
galleries are different. viewing art is suddenly social. people chatting with their friends about the pieces, each trying to sound smarter, more cultured than the other (yes, i realize i am a cynic about this whole art world thing). people dress for the occasion, and i generally don't dress for any occasion unless a dress code (or the my-mother-would-die-if-i-didn't-dress-up-for-this code) warrants it. i feel like an outsider. the kid who didn't' get picked for kick ball. the one standing by themselves in the gym waiting to be asked to dance. i am the wallflower in the gallery, afraid to talk, afraid to engage.
what is with that?
this time my art was even on the wall in one of the galleries (just one small piece). which was a first. but seeing it there brought me no thrill... just made me more uncomfortable.
so i have to work on claiming this gift of art that i have been given. i have to get to work. i have to be on the scene more. i have to see what this artist thing is about. i have to define for myself what that means. this is my goal for the summer.
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