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Living Lent: Passion Sunday Meets Spring Equinox

3/20/2016

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This year, for the first time in eleven years, Passion Sunday (more commonly known as Palm Sunday) falls on the same day as the Spring Equinox, the first day of spring.

Palm Sunday was one of the Sundays I most looked forward to growing up, because it meant receiving a palm frond, singing hosannahs, and processing around the church--ritual at its finest. Now I find that Palm Sunday, Passion Sunday, is too distinctly Christian for me to celebrate it the way I once did. It heralds the arrival of Jesus in Jerusalem, where he will be put to death. This, according to Christian teaching, is the culmination of his three-year ministry, the reason for which he was born, by most Christian estimations. The cross is the primary symbol of Christians--there is no Christianity without Jesus's murderous death (and resurrection).

For me as a Thean, the death of Jesus, the Messiah, is no longer central to me. In fact, the existence of a savior of the world isn't central to me, either. Several other things assume central importance for me: the creation of the world (for isn't it amazing that there is something rather nothing?); the incarnation of Thea, which is the universe; the inherent goodness of all things; the communal command to be reconciled to one another; the radical breaking down of barriers through the sharing of table fellowship; and the ability of all beings to be transformed, whether from death to life or from poor of heart to rich of heart.

Instead of looking for palm fronds to hail a redeemer, I cut branches from one of our orange trees, gave one to each of my girls, and led them on a procession through the deck and the house, that we might bless the spaces we share together. Then I invited them, in honor of the coming of spring, to plant three kinds of seeds in the earth with me. Then I took them to their room, gathered them close to me, and talked with them about what Thea is like, and how we are all of Thea, and how greatly Thea loves us and wants us to love one another.

Singing hosannahs around the house on Palm Sunday has always been comfortable, but today it jars me. I am aware of how much work I have yet to do in developing my thealogy--not only my beliefs, but stories, songs, and rituals. Thean faith and liturgy may look a lot like Christian faith and liturgy, but they are not the same. I have spent a great deal of time focusing on their similarities, but now, more than ever, is the time to focus on the differences. The differences don't make Theanism better or worse than Christianity, but they do make a difference in how and what I teach my daughters about God and our place in the universe. The fact is, I don't want them to grow up thinking that they had to be saved by a God-man. I want them to know that their Goddess, their Thea, is as near as their own bodies, and that they are holy, and that they have all the power they need to effect tremendous change in the world. They don't need Jesus to be their hero; they can be their own heroes, because they are daughters of Thea. And they can do that by planting seeds, whether in the ground, in other's hearts, or in their own hearts. ♥

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Living Lent: International Women's Day

3/8/2016

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Last year, for several months, I wrote a Thean prayer every day. In honor of International Women's Day, I'm copying the prayer I wrote a year ago today--it still strikes a holy chord with me.

Thea,
as I celebrate this day of women,
I celebrate you:
feminine, fierce,
bold, brave,
enveloping, animating,
generous, genuine, genius,
Goddess.
Amen.

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The Mists of Avalon: A Review

2/24/2016

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A dear friend of mine from Berkeley recommended The Mists of Avalon to me several years ago, but I didn't have the book in hand till the end of 2015, and I didn't begin reading it till this week. It was 876 pages long, but I could hardly put it down.

This is a book of Arthurian legend, told from the perspective of the women in Arthur's life. (For the record, in the fall of 2000, when I took an Arthurian legend course, we were not assigned to read this book. I wonder if my professor's being a Jesuit had anything to do with it.) The Mists of Avalon is set in a time when Christianity actually competed with local devotion to the Goddess. As we know historically, this devotion was driven into hiding by the Christian claims that the God of Christianity was the one and true God, and all other Gods were false idols, even demons.

One of the more striking features of this book is that the fruitfulness and pleasure of sex are highly valued both in and out of marriage, rather than diminished or seen as second in holiness to celibacy. Imagine that: sex with mutual consent as good. It seems almost bizarre in this Puritanical country to think so, but to me and to many others, it makes perfect sense. It makes even more sense to me to regard sex with mutual consent as holy, as a religious act of devotion--not only because sex can be fruitful, but because sex is so intimate and joyful. Why not? Really, why not?

Marion Zimmer Bradley ends the book with a note of hope, that all the Gods are one. It makes me wonder now, what would the gospels of Christianity look like if they were told from the perspective of women? And what would Roman Catholicism look like if women made up the majority of priests? What if, in all seriousness, the pope were a woman? And what would America look like if Pagan priestesses, devoted to the Goddess, were to capture the imaginations of the religious majority?

I'm astonished that this book was written the year I was born--1982. Could such a poignant and fresh feminist perspective be thirty-four years old?

After reading this book, it is no surprise to me that Pagan devotion is growing in this country and around the world. Devotion to the Feminine Divine, and an awareness of the Goddess within all of us, is long overdue, I think.

I am happy that I can add this book to the growing shelves of books I have set aside for my daughters to read someday. May they be empowered, and may their imaginations be broadened.

Needless to say, if you've never read this book, I highly recommend it.

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Living Lent: Psalm 68

2/14/2016

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One of my goals in rewriting the psalter is to diminish the culture of vengeance that permeates it. In this spirit, I have rewritten Psalm 68.

Psalm 68
 
Let all Creatures be glad and rejoice before Goddess;
   let them also be merry and joyful.
 
Sing to Goddess, sing praises to her Name;
exalt her who rides upon the oceans;
   Thea is her Name, rejoice before her!
 
Mother of orphans, defender of widows,
   Goddess in her holy habitation!
 
Goddess gives the solitary a home
   and brings forth prisoners into freedom.
 
You sent a gracious rain, O Goddess, upon your inheritance;
   you refreshed the land when it was weary.
 
Your Creatures found their home in it;
   in your goodness, O Goddess, you have made provision for the poor.
 
Though you lingered among the sheepfolds,
   you shall be like a dove whose wings are covered with silver,
   whose feathers are like green gold.
 
You have gone up on high and led captivity captive;
you have received gifts even from all your Creatures,
   that the Lady Goddess might dwell among them.
 
Blessed be Thea day by day,
   the Goddess of our salvation, who bears our burdens.
 
She is our Goddess, the Goddess of our salvation;
   Goddess is the Lady, by whom we escape death.
 
They see your procession, O Goddess,
   your procession into the sanctuary, my Goddess and my Queen.
 
The singers go before, musicians follow after,
   in the midst of maidens playing upon the hand-drums.
 
Bless Goddess in the gathering;
   bless Thea, you that are of the fountain of Creation.
 
Send forth your strength, O Goddess;
   establish, O Goddess, what you have wrought for us.
 
Queens shall bring gifts to you,
   for your temple’s sake.
 
Sing to Goddess, O queendoms of the earth;
   sing praises to Thea.
 
She rides in the heavens, the ancient heavens;
   she sends forth her voice, her mighty voice.
 
Ascribe power to Goddess;
   her majesty is through Creation;
   her strength is in the skies and the earth.
 
How wonderful is Goddess in her holy places!
   the Goddess of Creation giving strength and power to her Creatures!
   Blessed be Goddess!
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Women Seeding Change

9/23/2015

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Image by Catrin Welz-Stein, http://catrinwelzstein.blogspot.com/
For the love of a tree,
she went out on a limb.
For the love of the sea,
she rocked the boat.
For the love of the earth,

she dug deeper.
For the love of community,
she mended fences.
For the love of the stars,
she let her light shine.
For the love of spirit,
she nurtured her soul.
For the love of a good time,
she sowed seeds of happiness.
For the love of the Goddess,
she drew down the moon.
For the love of nature,
she made compost.
For the love of a good meal,
she gave thanks.
For the love of family,
she reconciled differences.
For the love of creativity,
she entertained new possibilities.
For the love of her enemies,
she suspended judgment.
For the love of herself,
she acknowledged her worth.
And the world was richer for her.

~Charlotte Tall Mountain


TreeSisters is a movement of women seeking to reforest the tropics in ten years. I found the above poem on their Facebook page. Their crowdfunding campaign to fund the reforesting may be found at www.GrowTreeSisters.com. For as little as $22, they'll plant a tree in your name. I invite you to take a look and consider donating to this green and lovely cause.
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Characterizing God(dess)

9/21/2015

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In the BCP's prescribed psalms for today, God is depicted as a jealous and vengeful God. In Psalm 105, the Egyptians didn't listen to God's command to let the people of Israel go, so God unleashed plagues on them, including death upon their firstborns. Then, in Psalm 106, the people of Israel "intermingled with the heathen and learned their pagan ways," and thus "they were polluted by their actions and went whoring in their evil deeds." Consequently, "the wrath of the Lord was kindled against his (sic) people, and those who hated them ruled over them."

In other words, people didn't act in accordance with God's will, so God threw magnificent tantrums.

As I revise the Psalter into a Thean prayer book, I find I can't abide by this manner of characterizing God. When I imagine God, I imagine her acting like a compassionate, patient, wise, peaceful grown-up--not like a child or a cult leader.

I don't want a fickle God. I want a God who's bigger than that. I want a God who shows her might in her gentleness and care; I want a God who forgives without demanding punishment first. I want a God who gets righteously angry at oppression and enslavement--realities that any loving individual ought to be angry about--and at the same time, I want her primary motivation to be love for all her creatures, who are (in equal measure) her incarnation.

As I reweave the psalms for Thean use, justice for the poor and oppressed will appear, but I hope to eliminate tantrums--particularly death-dealing ones. My Goddess is a Goddess of life, and I want to convey that, one psalm at a time.
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Psalm 100

9/19/2015

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The psalms were a regular part of my prayer life when I was a Benedictine Canon (Novice). In the last year or so, I've limited my exposure to the psalms to my Sunday liturgies. Today, however, wanting to reintroduce the psalms into my prayer life, I prayed evening prayer with my copies of The Plainsong Psalter, the Book of Common Prayer, and Benedictine Daily Prayer, all of which I used to use to pray the liturgy of the hours when I was a novice. The rhythm of Benedictine prayer, which centers around prayer of the psalms, gives me life.

I adapted tonight's prescribed psalms for Thean use. This was my adaptation of Psalm 100:

Be joyful in Thea, all you lands;
serve Thea with gladness
and come before her presence with a song.

Know this: Thea herself is Goddess;
she herself has made us, and we are hers;
we are her people and the sheep of her pasture.

Enter her gates with thanksgiving;
go into her courts with praise;
give thanks to her and call upon her Name.

For Thea is good;
her mercy is everlasting;
and her faithfulness endures from age to age.


It is so beautiful and enriching to pray to Thea this way--to dare to use feminine pronouns when the prescribed pronouns are always masculine, and to call Thea by the Greek name for "Goddess." As I develop my Thean prayer resources, I think I shall leave the Psalter much as it is apart from pronouns and names. The riches of the Psalter are worth retaining.


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Dirty Word

6/12/2015

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I've always known that "power" is a dirty word. Power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely. Power is not something that nice people seek. If you want to be holy, you seek humility, not power. I learned this from my Roman Catholic upbringing, and that lesson followed me in my theological training.

But these days, power gives me pause. As a woman, I've often lacked a sense of my own power, and consequently I've been drawn to the power of others. My own power, residing deep within me, has come across as a source of danger and sin, so I've ignored it, even denied it. I've let others take the lead; I've followed, allowing my power to trail behind, unattended.

But imagine with me for a moment that power isn't a dirty word. Imagine a woman like me letting go of her attachment to the power of others and taking up her own power instead. Does my power render me dangerous?  Does my power strip me of holiness?

Maybe my power exerts itself whether I acknowledge it or not. So what happens if I look deep within myself and intentionally draw my power out?

The trouble is, if I harness my own power, I place myself at the center of my actions, rather than at the margins. If I follow someone else, I can always redirect attention to her or him if something goes wrong. I can't blame others for how I use my own power, however; I alone am responsible for it. Acknowledging one's own power, using one's power, means accepting the consequences of one's power. If power corrupts, why would I ever want to accept my power and its consequences?

I can pretend it's not there, hope it does nothing, and take no responsibility for it if it does. Alternatively, I can claim it, learn to use it as I see fit, and take responsibility for it when I do wrong--and right.

I get the sense that the good and holy way to approach power isn't what I've always thought. Maybe my power is a source of goodness, rather than evil. Maybe it is a good and holy thing to take up the power that Goddess places deep within me; maybe the sin is in squelching it.

Do I dare take up my own power?
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67

3/8/2015

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In honor of International Women's Day

Thea,
as I celebrate this day of women,
I celebrate you:
feminine, fierce,
bold, brave,
enveloping, animating,
generous, genuine, genius,
Goddess.
Amen.

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26

1/26/2015

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Thea,
Goddess who dwells in all creation,
holy be your name.
Your queendom come:
your will be done
throughout all the earth.
Give us today our daily bread
and forgive us our debts
as we forgive our debtors;
and lead us not into temptation
but deliver us from evil.
For yours is the queendom,
the power, and the glory,
forever and ever.
Amen.

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Spirit Whispers: Listen

6/18/2014

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How does one listen anyway?

Take a deep breath.

Let silence envelop your entire awareness.


Be still.

How long is it before your thoughts quiet?

How long is it before you stop tracking how long it's been?

What is it like to sit, to wait, to let God play midwife to your pregnant silence?


How does this midwife move around you? Does she move at all? Does she clasp your hand? Does she sit back in a seat next to you and murmur words of encouragement? Does she simply wait with you, occasionally placing a hand on your swollen belly for signs of what is to come?

What needs to be tended at this moment? What needs to be waited on? What needs the midwife's gentle, firm, skillful assurance?


What will you bear forth from your listening?


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Spirit Whispers: Speak up

6/17/2014

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If you've never had the experience of participating in a spiritual discernment committee, I invite you to consider it.

After my fifth (and final) meeting with my discernment committee for priesthood yesterday evening, my committee confirmed that they heard my call to priesthood. And that's not even the extraordinary part.

The extraordinary part is that, as I prayed yesterday before my meeting, I prayed for total surrender to God's will, and for the faithfulness not to run if that will was something my ego didn't like. My total surrender granted me total, deep, quieting peace.

The extraordinary part is that, having let go of my attachment to the outcome of my discernment process, I happened to read (during evening prayer) the story in Matthew about the disciples who wanted to know why they couldn't heal the sick on their own when Jesus so easily could. Jesus told them it was because they lacked faith, and that if they had faith even the size of a mustard seed, mountains would move for them. And I realized at that moment that my mustard seed faith was what had moved the mountain of my ego in order to make a straight path for Spirit to enter and dwell deep within my heart.

The extraordinary part is that, despite having a clear sense of call when I walked into the process, my sense of call widened and deepened and became more rooted as the dialogue went on.

The extraordinary part is that, especially in the final two meetings, as I listened to the challenging questions of my committee members, I perceived Spirit doing the asking. And as I offered my vulnerable, open-hearted answers, I perceived Spirit speaking through me. (It's fair to say that I've never experienced God's voice speaking to me so powerfully as I have in my discernment committee meetings, and for a Benedictine who hears God speaking to her through liturgy and scripture and encounters with others all the time, that's saying a lot.)

The extraordinary part is that, despite my Enneagram-three-personality-type's desire to manage a situation in such a way that the outcome is "positive," I was required to relinquish my ability to do that in order to speak plainly and truthfully. I was painfully aware that my deep honesty could at any moment result in the humiliation of my ego, and I spoke anyway. In that total risk of my ego, I realized it was not my ego that spoke, but Spirit.

When I walked out of my meeting last night, I had no idea what my committee members had heard. I didn't know what they would say. My three-ish ability to anticipate the outcome of the process failed me spectacularly. And I perceived in my failure the possibility of God's success--success in finding a way to make use of the quirky instrument that I am.

My committee is passing me on to the next steps of the discernment process, steps that will be challenging in their own ways. What my committee heard may not be confirmed by the next folks I encounter in the discernment process. But what happens next is not my concern.

The most important piece to emerge for me from this discernment process is the profound recognition that my heart--my whole heart--belongs to the one I call God. Whatever comes, I know that I will be faithful to the path God has prepared for me. I won't turn away. This is God's gig, and I am God's beautiful, imperfect instrument.

What song(s) will God choose to play through me for the uplifting, healing, and reconciling of her creation?

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Living Lent: Happy Spring!

3/20/2014

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Four years ago, my husband and I got married in the presence of my best friend, Hubby's best friend, and a few of our family members.

That day marked my ritual transition from a dark winter of my life to a fragrant, vivid spring. I have been happier these last four years than in any other four years of my life, and I trust that we will continue to be happy all the rest of our days.

Here is the scripture lesson from our wedding:

Solomon 2:10-13


My lover spoke and said to me,       
"Arise, my darling,       
my beautiful one, and come with me.

See! The winter is past;       
the rains are over and gone.
Flowers appear on the earth;       
the season of singing has come,       
the cooing of doves       
is heard in our land.

The fig tree forms its early fruit;       
the blossoming vines spread their fragrance.       
Arise, come, my darling;       
my beautiful one, come with me."


Yet again, Easter bursts forth in the midst of Lent. Thanks be to Goddess.
♥

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Living Lent: Testing Intention

3/7/2014

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Lent is more than just a season of obligatory self-sacrifice. It is a time for a profound change of heart.

Yesterday I recognized how I had failed (and continued to fail) at keeping my Lenten penance. The deeper issue that keeps confronting me is my intention--or attitude--this Lent. What sort of posture do I bear as I go about my day? If someone were to catch me in a moment in which I thought I was unobserved, what would they see? Would they see me in deep, contemplative prayer, or rushed, distracted prayer? Would they see me extending extra gentleness to my children, or would they see me snapping at them? Would they see me going about my day mindfully, or would they see me moving from one thing to the next with nothing but the force of habit to steer me?

Christians are called during Lent to bear the burden of mindfulness, self-awareness, and self-emptying to the extent that they are able. What does this mean for me, an enthusiastic novice of the Benedictine Canons? Does it mean, for example, that if I'm sending my daughter to her room because she's interrupting my midday prayer, I'm doing my prayer wrong? Does it mean that if I'm puttering through my day without setting any particular goal or intention, that I'll end up casting about with nothing to show for it? 

Lent is a season of obligatory self-sacrifice, but the self-sacrifice isn't the goal. The change of heart, made possible by a mutual meeting between ourselves and the Divine One, is the goal. What will I need to do today, this hour, or this moment, to raise my awareness enough to realize God's been waiting for me this whole time?

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Life. Love. Liturgy.: The Book

2/27/2014

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What sort of God do you get when the images you have don't look a thing like the person you see in the mirror? What do you get when they do?

What does sacred encounter look like when a person no longer practices religiosity or believes in God?

When religion's beliefs or dogmas are inadequate or unjust, what might keep a prophetic person or community rooted in religiosity?

I'm pleased to present Life. Love. Liturgy., my newly released collection of short stories and poetry, available online for purchase. In it I explore the processes of crashing against, opening up, dismissing, and broadening prescriptions of God and religion.

~~~

This book spent twenty months in gestation after being crowdfunded by many generous donors on Kickstarter. Over those nearly two years, I unexpectedly ventured away from the Roman Catholic Church and eventually found myself in the Episcopal Church (as a member of a Benedictine Canon community), with many stops in between. The order in which the pieces are presented is the order in which they were written, in order to honor the ways in which my own journey shaped this collection.

Each piece in this book is written in honor of someone. The first piece, Emmaus, is written in honor of my friend, Rev. Cody Unterseher, who died unexpectedly in April 2012. His theological courage, his pastoral compassion, and his untimely death compelled me to shake off my fears and take up my vocation as a writer about matters of ultimate concern. I owe a debt of gratitude to many people, but especially to Cody.

If you are interested in interviewing me about Life. Love. Liturgy. for your blog or other communication outlet, please contact me.


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Retreat and return

2/11/2014

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My dreams this week concern me.

I've dreamed about killing someone I didn't know; I wasn't convicted in court for lack of evidence, even though I knew I was at fault.  I've dreamed about others I did know dying of natural causes, leaving me to pick up the pieces.  Last night I dreamed about an elderly friend of mine asking me to help pack up two houses: the one in which he used to live and the one in which he currently lived.  He was preparing to move elsewhere, though I didn't know where.  Everything I touched in his current house was laden with memory, whereas everything in the other house was strange, rich, and unlike him as far as I knew him.

I'm no expert on Jung or Freud, but I do know that dreams can point dreamers to insights about themselves and their lives.

What is with all the death, hiding, and transition? 

I woke in the middle of the night last night to get my baby daughter a bottle.  When I returned, I flashed back to a conversation from my last Benedictine Canon chapter meeting.  Br. Philip talked about preparing for his final profession as a Canon next month, in particular about the placing of the pall over his prostrated body.  Like Br. Chad and Br. Rawleigh, Br. Philip will lay down his body at the service of God, the community, and the world.  He'll be covered with a pall, the pale garment of baptism and death.

I realized in the chill of the night that if I make my full profession as a Benedictine Canon, I will be committing myself to die.

I crawled back into bed and closed my eyes, but words rose up, and I ended up texting myself with the words of a haiku so they wouldn't be swallowed by sleep.

A funeral pall
veils the diff'rence
between old
and new. Ego die.


My dreams point me to an unexpected revelation: my old self is dying.  I am being put to the test.  My identity as a religious person has long been plagued with fear, self-absorption, doubt, and horded treasures, all carefully saved so I would have something to cling to in case God ever failed me.  Now, step by step, I am moving forward into the intensely uncomfortable unknown: a place of overflowing trust. 

Father, I put my life in your hands.
 

I'm dying--and it's okay.  I'm letting the precious treasure of my life go.  And what a relief.


Mother, I put my life in your hands.

My life will be whatever it is meant to be.  The particular outcome of my life is no longer my concern
.  Living from moment to moment at the service of God and God's magnificent, multi-faceted creation is enough.  Being able to turn again and again from my selfish fears toward God, the holy Fire who burns within me, is enough.

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Quitting = Failure

1/23/2014

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I quit my job today. 

Several days ago, I agreed to take on an editing job.  In discussing the job with the client, I asked many questions, and I also made several assumptions. 

I bid for what I thought would be 30-35 hours of work.  It turned out that this job would require at least a hundred hours, and possibly many more.  Since I had given a flat-rate bid, my hourly rate for the job went from normal-for-me to piddly--not even a decent fraction of minimum wage. 

So I quit.

And I felt terrible about it.

Then the mental onslaught began.

You didn't keep your word.

You didn't stick it out when things got rough.

You took the easy way out.

You need the money--you should have just sucked it up.

You're a lousy contractor.

You're an unreliable editor. 


(Oh, and the client, when I offered to send along the fruits of my already many hours of work in exchange for pro-rated pay, accused me of scamming.  So--)

Your client thinks you're a cheat and a scammer.

Quitters are losers. 

Want it spelled out?  Foxtrot. Alpha. India. Lima. Uniform. Romeo. Echo.


Quitting doesn't sit well with me, not even a little.  Quitting produces a magnifying glass that channels rays of truth and burns me.  Quitting elicits a shockwave of realization and memory that knocks the breath out of me. 

Once, when I was twelve years old,  I jumped off a swing and landed on my back.  I couldn't breathe for at least thirty seconds, maybe more.  I was terrified.  The pain mounted with every passing second.  Worse, I was alone, without help, and without any means to summon help.  I wondered if I was going to pass out.  I wondered if I was about to die.

Quitting is like that.  It's an admission of inability to do what I've said I can do.  It's self-mutilation of the picture-perfect persona I've worked so hard to build and maintain.

It's an unfathomable crack in my impenetrable defenses, a loophole of vulnerability.  It's the potential for destruction.

Quitting is the seed of weedy humiliation.  How can I sink any lower than to go back on my word, to admit that I was wrong in my own self-expectation?


Is there anything worthy of redemption in a quitter?


I am forced to face my own genuine failings so infrequently that it's world-shifting when it happens.  It's one thing to admit failing in a general way, as in Psalm 51, but to name and own particular failings is a much more daunting task.  I don't want anyone to know that I'm not as awesome as I present myself to be.  I don't want anyone to know that I fail.  I don't want anyone to know that I'm not a model feminist.  I don't want anyone to know that sometimes I'm a lousy parent or spouse or friend.

Because then I might be ordinary, right?  Then I might require a reexamination of the awesome person I think I manage to be most of the time.

And that might change who I am.  And if I change, then who am I?

Do you suppose this is why we describe God as immutable, unchanging, and sinless?  Because we are so fearful of change and sin in ourselves, and so resentful of it in others?

What if God
were more like humans?  What if God were more like me?

What if bearing the divine spark within me meant accepting my failings without idolizing them
, so that the awesomeness could shine through the muck?

What if quitting and failure are two sides of the same tool, designed to cut facets in us so we can capture light more brilliantly, like jewels?


What if failure is the only available path to discovering who I really am, as shone through God's marvelous light
?

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Praying with Icons: Miriam

1/5/2014

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While on retreat with St. Augustine's Church this weekend, adults were invited to pray with an icon.  One of the mothers there had just commented that my daughter, Miriam, certainly qualified as an icon.  So I prayed with Miriam, allowing God to behold me through her.  I gave voice to my encounter in this way:



We are Godparents.
We are God's parents.
God is our child.

On the seventh day she rested because she was exhausted. She needed rest.

God needs the safety of our arms. God needs our vigilant care and protection.

God would die without us.
God grows up in our midst.

We have a critical role to play in God's destiny.

God is a child and we are her parents. Without our constant attention, she suffers.
We are her caregiver. She needs us to survive.

We are the parents of God, and she loves us implicitly.
May we never betray her love.
Our excuses not to care for her will burst like old wineskins.

She trusts that we will give her all she needs. She trusts that we will be there when she awakes. She trusts that if we put her in the arms of another, that that other will care for her just as well.

We are God's parents and we would die for her.

Her radiant smile stops time in an eternal, brilliant moment.

We feed her with good things.

We love God, for she is our own daughter, wonderfully made in our image.
Her voice causes us to laugh, dance, and run.
Her smile melts our chill anger.
Her cries alert us.

We listen when she calls.

Listen, o mother, give ear to My words.

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Forging a path

12/26/2013

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Picture
My baby crawled for the first time today.  Her dad and sister and I cheered her on wildly as if she had just hit a grand slam.  (The first object she went for was a crinkly package of baby wipes; the second was a major league baseball.  Yes, a little music and a little baseball confirm that she is our child.)

I feel like her--inching forward, reaching for that which I behold, struggling little by little with every bit of my strength to get where I'm going. 

With her, it's a down-on-the-ground, whole-bodied struggle.  With me, it's a battle raging within me over a single, burning question: whether or not I qualify as a leader. 

(Weird inner battles, I'm good at them.
)

I'm not an alpha female.  I know women--amazing women--who are alpha types.  I admire them, but I'm not one of them, nor do I have any desire to be one.  This obviously precludes me from assuming any role of religious (ordained) leadership.

I still hear this call to leadership, though, which makes my eyes cross.  Come on, Goddess.  Non-alpha types don't make leaders.  The whole notion is absurd.  How can I be a leader when I'm the one who's always been in the background, observing more often than herding?  When I've been told to my face that I'm not a leader?  Leadership roles in my case seem (as my medically trained hubby would say) contraindicated.

Conveniently, I've never had to grapple with this before, because I've always belonged to a tradition in which I would never have to take seriously (or be taken seriously regarding) my call to religious (i.e. ordained) leadership.  Now I'm about to be received in a tradition that does, and I'm flailing like my infant daughter. How am I supposed to get where I'm going if I don't have the juice to do it?

For fun, I decided to humor my Lady Goddess and google "characteristics of a leader."  I found this list.

Proactive vs. Reactive
The exceptional leader is always thinking three steps ahead. Working to master his/her own environment with the goal of avoiding problems before they arise.

Flexible/Adaptable
How do you handle yourself in unexpected or uncomfortable situations?  An effective leader will adapt to new surroundings and situations, doing his/her best to adjust.

A Good Communicator
As a leader, one must listen...a lot!  You must be willing to work to understand the needs and desires of others. A good leader asks many questions, considers all options, and leads in the right direction.

Respectful
Treating others with respect will ultimately earn respect.

Quiet Confidence
Be sure of yourself with humble intentions.

Enthusiastic
Excitement is contagious. When a leader is motivated and excited about the cause people will be more inclined to follow.

Open-Minded
Work to consider all options when making decisions. A strong leader will evaluate the input from all interested parties and work for the betterment of the whole.

Resourceful

Utilize the resources available to you. If you don't know the answer to something find out by asking questions. A leader must create access to information.

Rewarding

An exceptional leader will recognize the efforts of others and reinforce those actions. We all enjoy being recognized for our actions!

Well Educated

Knowledge is power. Work to be well educated on community policies, procedures, organizational norms, etc. Further, your knowledge of issues and information will only increase your success in leading others.

Open to Change
A leader will take into account all points of view and will be willing to change a policy, program, cultural tradition that is out-dated, or no longer beneficial to the group as a whole.

Interested in Feedback
How do people feel about your leadership skill set?  How can you improve?  These are important questions that a leader needs to constantly ask the chapter. View feedback as a gift to improve.

Evaluative
Evaluation of events and programs is essential for an organization/group to improve and progress. An exceptional leader will constantly evaluate and change programs and policies that are not working.

Organized
Are you prepared for meetings, presentations, events and confident that people around you are prepared and organized as well? 

Consistent
Confidence and respect cannot be attained without your leadership being consistent. People must have confidence that their opinions and thoughts will be heard and taken into consideration.

Delegator

An exceptional leader realizes that he/she cannot accomplish everything on his own. A leader will know the talents and interests of people around him/her, thus delegating tasks accordingly.

Initiative
A leader should work to be the motivator, an initiator. He/she must be a key element in the planning and implementing of new ideas, programs, policies, events, etc.

But... I am/do all of those things when it comes to something I care about and am deeply invested in. So...

Moi?  Leader?


I'm not an alpha leader. 

I'm a servant leader. 

I lead by example.  I'm dazzling and inspiring in a different way.  Folks don't generally want to be me--they want to be around me.  When I live out my (rather awesome) ideals, I am at the service of others, rather than in charge of them.  That's how my leadership manifests.
 

I've just never formally thought of leadership, especially religious leadership, like that.  Now that I see it at work at St. Augustine's, however--a context which has become my context, rather than remaining someone else's--it makes a surprising amount of sense.

Tune in again soon for more from the M. Kate Meets Her Vocation show!

2 Comments

Gaudete! Advent, Week 3, Sunday

12/15/2013

0 Comments

 
Picture
I made my oblation to the Benedictine Canon Community of St. Mary of the Annunciation this morning. 

You know me--I like it when timing is more than a coincidence.  The Prior of the OSBCn Community here in Tempe allowed me to schedule my oblation for the third Sunday of Advent, not only signifying a heart-opening beginning, which is what Advent is in relationship to the liturgical year, but also signifying a time of rejoicing.  The Latin Introit for this Sunday is where Gaudete Sunday, the third Sunday of Advent, gets its nickname:

Gaudete in Domino semper: iterum dico, gaudete. Modestia vestra nota sit omnibus hominibus: Dominus enim prope est. Nihil solliciti sitis: sed in omni oratione petitiones vestræ innotescant apud Deum. Benedixisti Domine terram tuam: avertisti captivitatem Jacob.

Rejoice in the Lord always; again I say, rejoice. Let your forbearance be known to all, for the Lord is near at hand; have no anxiety about anything, but in all things, by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving, let your requests be known to God. Lord, you have blessed your land; you have turned away the captivity of Jacob.

Could there be a more fitting liturgical opening on the day of my entrance into this community?

When I pray today, I find myself saying in faith, Rejoice.  Rejoice.  The Lord is near at hand.  She is near at hand, and you need have no anxiety about anything, but in all things, by constant prayer, and with thanksgiving, let your requests be known to Her.  Lady, you have blessed your creation and turned us from our deadening captivity.

It is a fitting day indeed.  It is an empowering day.  Today I committed to the regular work prayer, and I find in that prayer the freedom to transcend my self-concern.  Each welcome from the members of my community was a tap-tap-tap on the still stony shell around my heart, bidding it to break free.  To stretch out my arms, to enfold sisters and brothers and neighbors in love: these are my new tasks.  What a strange gift.  What a novel reminder of my baptism.  What a poignant icon of the divine spark that finds fuel in my humanity.

I feel more fully myself today than I ever have in my life.  Here in this place, accompanied by my family, my church community, my sister and brother Benedictines, and my holy cloud of witnesses from every part of the earth and God's heavenly banquet, I am home.

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    Rev. M. Kate Allen

    Thean. House church priest. Published author. Mother and wife. Vocal feminist. Faith-filled dissenter in the face of the status quo.

    I address G-d as Thea more often than not.


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