a few weeks ago in systematics we talked about heaven and hell and
whether they were real and if they were what they were like (a place in
the sky/below the ground, some other universe, a recreation of this
place, etc.). one of the things that came up for me was that a lot of
folks i know don't necessarily believe in hell as a place you could go
when you die (or if they do, they don't think anybody actually ends up
there), but there is a lot of support for the concept of "hell on
earth."
soldiers have talked about it for years, being
in the trenches, in the fighting as being hell on earth. queerfolk have
talked about living closeted in an extremely oppressive context as hell
on earth. people in abusive relationships have talked about hell on
earth. especially if the understanding of hell is a place without god,
children who are victims of neglect can know hell on earth. so, while i
don't necessarily believe in hell as a place of fire and brimstone
where people could end up when they die, i do believe in hell as
something that can (and does) happen here and now in our lives.
but
what about heaven? general consensus seems to dictate that heaven is a
place where "good" people go when they die, a place in the sky, a place
with god always, a new jerusalem, any number of things. but what if
neither heaven nor hell is that kind of a place? what if heaven is also
a place on earth? when we got into that line of thinking in class, our
ta, gretchen, called "heaven on earth" moments kairos moments.
kairos is one of two words for time in greek, the other is chronos. chronos means time in the sense of a clock or calendar; it's the primary way that we refer to time here in the us. kairos, on the other hand, means time as in god's time. the fulfillment of god's time. kairos
is transcendent. it occurs where/when god comes and lifts up. this
understanding connects with heaven as the place resurrection happens.
heaven is not a place far away (though it could be that too), heaven is the kairos
moments of life; the resurrection moments. this means, also, that
resurrection is not just something that happens after we take our last
breath. resurrection happens here and now.
heaven on
earth is the peace that comes in a community gathered to celebrate and
rejoice in god's work calling us together. heaven on earth is the
feeling of wholeness that comes from being told, you--the whole you--are
called to ministry and your gifts are various and diverse and your
queerness is a gift for ministry! heaven on earth is the sunset
over the mountain tops after as you sit watching and talking with a
dearly beloved.
heaven on earth is the moment on easter
morning as the sun is rising where i am 100% certain that christ is
risen and any moment all the dead will rise to walk the streets of
life! heaven on earth is when you hear, feel, taste god calling you
into wholeness, into a vocation. heaven on earth is that feeling in
parker palmer's definition of vocation as "This is something I can't not
do, for reasons I'm unable to explain to anyone else and don't fully
understand myself but that are nonetheless compelling."
heaven
on earth is the moment the hell of the closet, the trenches, the
isolation, the despair leaves and your chest, which has been so bound
and restricted by the tightness of stress and anxiety and depression,
loosens as you begin to breathe again the deep, full breaths of freedom
and love. heaven on earth is when that hug you've been needing, but
have been unable to ask for, is given and tears flow and you are held in
loving arms.
i think that many times heaven on earth comes soon after escape
from hell on earth. it reminds me of giving birth (or what little i
know of it). from what i know the act of giving birth is like sitting
on a stick of dynamite--that seems like hell if i ever knew it--and yet
in the moments after giving birth, the first glimpses and sounds and
feelings of new life can come heaven on earth. the way to truly escape the hell on earth moments is with heaven on earth--kairos.
what is your hell on earth? what is your heaven on earth?
Monday, April 23, 2012
Sunday, April 01, 2012
hoodies, hijabs, and just plain racism
the news:
Trayvon Martin, a young black 17-year old male in Florida was wearing a hood walking out of an all white neighbourhood when he was shot by George Zimmerman in cold blood. His choice of weapon: Skittles and a can of ice-tea
Shaima Alawadi, a 32-year old Iraqi mother of 5 in California was brutally beaten inside of her home with a iron tire, alongside her unconscious body read a note from the perpetrator that said, “go back to your own country”
the reason:
racism.
so, i've been doing a lot of thinking and processing, and lamenting over the last few weeks and trying to figure out how to make sense of the news of trayvon and shaima's deaths.
the thing is: i can't. they don't make sense. they do (racism + extremely racist rhetoric and backlash, especially since obama's election + terrible new laws and government policies --> death by hate crime). i know why these two (and so many other) people died, but it still doesn't make sense.
as a white person, i have no idea what it's like for white people to just see me and make assumptions about who i am and what my life is (or is not) worth based on their perception of my race. as a white person, other white people see a person, not a white person. i don't look suspicious in a hoodie (even if i try) or a hijab (i do look a bit out of place in one, though).
as a queer woman, i know what it's like for people to look at me and check my chest to make sure i'm a woman. as a queer woman, i know what it's like for people to judge me based on my haircut and gender presentation rather than who i am. as a queer person, i know what it's like to have to listen to homophobic and heterosexist comments from people i know and from people i don't. as a queer woman, i know what it's like to hear sexist comments and not know how to challenge, stand up to, or stop them.
as a white person who is trying to be anti-racist, i know what it's like to hear from another white person a racist comment and not know exactly how to challenge the racism without making the person defensive, but trying anyway (and not always doing very well at it). as a white person who is trying to be anti-racist, i know the difficulty i still have in talking about race and naming racism as racism.
as a human being, a child of god, my heart breaks when i hear of violence perpetrated against others, myself, and the whole of creation. as a human being, a child of god, i affirm with martin king that "injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere." when there is injustice somewhere, there is no justice anywhere. my bubble, my part of the world, is not a bubble of justice if your bubble involves injustice.
as emily, white, queer, able-bodied, lutheran, woman who is trying to be anti-racist, i know i am a sinner and cannot save myself. as emily, white, queer, able-bodied, lutheran, woman who is trying to be anti-racist, i know i am a saint and have to hold onto my hope and trust in a god who saves us all.
what happened to shaima and trayvon was xenophobic. it was racist. it was wrong. the way i dress, the way you dress, the way anyone dresses is not an excuse or justifiable reason to use violence. in fact, there is NO reason to use violence. it is wrong. trayvon's death was a hate crime. shaima's death was a hate crime.
i can't make sense of their deaths because they don't make sense. and yet, i know why they happened. in all of our public and political discourse in this country, we have forgotten what it means to be human. we as a country have forgotten that women are people, not just baby-makers or ovaries. we as a country have forgotten that people of color are people, not criminals or animals. we as a country have forgotten that those who come to the united states now are people, not "illegals" and not unlike our ancestors (where in the last few centuries or the last few millenia).
we have, as a country, made our laws about gun safety consistently worse and worse (hence the "stand your ground" law in florida being used to justify why the man who killed trayvon has not been arrested or charged). our criminal justice system is anything but just and certainly not "colorblind." the rates of incarceration and the legal penalties for crimes are racist.
we as a country are not concerned about making things right after a crime (healing and restoring the communities and people who have been hurt by the crime), but instead we as a country are concerned about making people pay (punishing those who commit the crime with the "injured" or affected party being the united states government) with no concern for the communities and individuals affected.
shaima and trayvon's deaths should provoke not only national discourse about racism, islamophobia, and xenophobia, but also gun laws and criminal (in)justice in this country. the only lobbyists regarding gun laws are the ones connected to the nra!
we need to be the lobbyists who will tell our elected representatives that we want stricter gun control laws, less weapons, no more extended magazines (as were used by jared loughner, the man who shot rep. giffords in arizona). the only way for us to change laws is to become the lobbyists ourselves. for too long we as a country have trusted our elected representatives to do what is in the best interests of our country and of the world. nothing will change and they will not do that unless we pressure them.
call your representatives. go to their rallies. write to them. email them. meet with them. protest them. tell them your story. vote! it is the only hope we have of changing things through the government. they will not change unless we press them to.
the only way we have of ending racism, islamophobia, and xenophobia is to talk about it. nothing will change (for the better...things might change for the worse) if we don't talk. we need to talk to each other and to others. we need to share our stories and be human with each other. without that, we have no hope. this past week, i was honored to be a part of my seminary community's acknowledgment of the sin of racism and the impact it continues to have not only in coastal states, but right here in our neighborhood of chicago. it was my proudest moment to wear a collar with my hoodie and to be together in solidarity mourning and searching for hope.
in, with, and under all of this, my hope and my trust is in a god who creates everything out of chaos and nothing-ness. my hope and my trust is in a god who brings good news to the oppressed, binds up the brokenhearted, proclaims liberty to the captives, and release to the prisoners. my hope and my trust is in a god who, when the oppressive powers of the world hang god on a tree to kill him, responds with resurrection.
Trayvon Martin, a young black 17-year old male in Florida was wearing a hood walking out of an all white neighbourhood when he was shot by George Zimmerman in cold blood. His choice of weapon: Skittles and a can of ice-tea
Shaima Alawadi, a 32-year old Iraqi mother of 5 in California was brutally beaten inside of her home with a iron tire, alongside her unconscious body read a note from the perpetrator that said, “go back to your own country”
the reason:
racism.
so, i've been doing a lot of thinking and processing, and lamenting over the last few weeks and trying to figure out how to make sense of the news of trayvon and shaima's deaths.
the thing is: i can't. they don't make sense. they do (racism + extremely racist rhetoric and backlash, especially since obama's election + terrible new laws and government policies --> death by hate crime). i know why these two (and so many other) people died, but it still doesn't make sense.
as a white person, i have no idea what it's like for white people to just see me and make assumptions about who i am and what my life is (or is not) worth based on their perception of my race. as a white person, other white people see a person, not a white person. i don't look suspicious in a hoodie (even if i try) or a hijab (i do look a bit out of place in one, though).
as a queer woman, i know what it's like for people to look at me and check my chest to make sure i'm a woman. as a queer woman, i know what it's like for people to judge me based on my haircut and gender presentation rather than who i am. as a queer person, i know what it's like to have to listen to homophobic and heterosexist comments from people i know and from people i don't. as a queer woman, i know what it's like to hear sexist comments and not know how to challenge, stand up to, or stop them.
as a white person who is trying to be anti-racist, i know what it's like to hear from another white person a racist comment and not know exactly how to challenge the racism without making the person defensive, but trying anyway (and not always doing very well at it). as a white person who is trying to be anti-racist, i know the difficulty i still have in talking about race and naming racism as racism.
as a human being, a child of god, my heart breaks when i hear of violence perpetrated against others, myself, and the whole of creation. as a human being, a child of god, i affirm with martin king that "injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere." when there is injustice somewhere, there is no justice anywhere. my bubble, my part of the world, is not a bubble of justice if your bubble involves injustice.
as emily, white, queer, able-bodied, lutheran, woman who is trying to be anti-racist, i know i am a sinner and cannot save myself. as emily, white, queer, able-bodied, lutheran, woman who is trying to be anti-racist, i know i am a saint and have to hold onto my hope and trust in a god who saves us all.
what happened to shaima and trayvon was xenophobic. it was racist. it was wrong. the way i dress, the way you dress, the way anyone dresses is not an excuse or justifiable reason to use violence. in fact, there is NO reason to use violence. it is wrong. trayvon's death was a hate crime. shaima's death was a hate crime.
i can't make sense of their deaths because they don't make sense. and yet, i know why they happened. in all of our public and political discourse in this country, we have forgotten what it means to be human. we as a country have forgotten that women are people, not just baby-makers or ovaries. we as a country have forgotten that people of color are people, not criminals or animals. we as a country have forgotten that those who come to the united states now are people, not "illegals" and not unlike our ancestors (where in the last few centuries or the last few millenia).
we have, as a country, made our laws about gun safety consistently worse and worse (hence the "stand your ground" law in florida being used to justify why the man who killed trayvon has not been arrested or charged). our criminal justice system is anything but just and certainly not "colorblind." the rates of incarceration and the legal penalties for crimes are racist.
we as a country are not concerned about making things right after a crime (healing and restoring the communities and people who have been hurt by the crime), but instead we as a country are concerned about making people pay (punishing those who commit the crime with the "injured" or affected party being the united states government) with no concern for the communities and individuals affected.
shaima and trayvon's deaths should provoke not only national discourse about racism, islamophobia, and xenophobia, but also gun laws and criminal (in)justice in this country. the only lobbyists regarding gun laws are the ones connected to the nra!
we need to be the lobbyists who will tell our elected representatives that we want stricter gun control laws, less weapons, no more extended magazines (as were used by jared loughner, the man who shot rep. giffords in arizona). the only way for us to change laws is to become the lobbyists ourselves. for too long we as a country have trusted our elected representatives to do what is in the best interests of our country and of the world. nothing will change and they will not do that unless we pressure them.
call your representatives. go to their rallies. write to them. email them. meet with them. protest them. tell them your story. vote! it is the only hope we have of changing things through the government. they will not change unless we press them to.
the only way we have of ending racism, islamophobia, and xenophobia is to talk about it. nothing will change (for the better...things might change for the worse) if we don't talk. we need to talk to each other and to others. we need to share our stories and be human with each other. without that, we have no hope. this past week, i was honored to be a part of my seminary community's acknowledgment of the sin of racism and the impact it continues to have not only in coastal states, but right here in our neighborhood of chicago. it was my proudest moment to wear a collar with my hoodie and to be together in solidarity mourning and searching for hope.
in, with, and under all of this, my hope and my trust is in a god who creates everything out of chaos and nothing-ness. my hope and my trust is in a god who brings good news to the oppressed, binds up the brokenhearted, proclaims liberty to the captives, and release to the prisoners. my hope and my trust is in a god who, when the oppressive powers of the world hang god on a tree to kill him, responds with resurrection.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)