Excuse Us as We Pivot - again: Greg Meyer

We are a bit of a mess right now as we try to figure out how to be church in the wake of the pandemic and George Floyd’s killing. Yes, I realize that we’ve been saying that since we started 14 years ago. The truth is we hope to be saying it a lot longer because the day we think we have it all figured out is the day we become useless.

You ought to know, however, that the messiness factor is higher than usual as we navigate the racial dynamics of being a ‘mostly but not entirely white-bodied’ community. With all the discovering of homework us white-bodied folks have suddenly done (yeah, I’m one of them), homework that our black and brown-bodied brothers and sisters have known and dealt with forever, there is a need to each go to our corners to do our different work. But yet, we are one community. We are all people, children of God, human beings. And the goal is to pull together, not split apart according to our race or skin color.

So here is what we are trying right now. Our whole community gatherings are going to be designed – as best we can – for everyone. There are a million human hurts and joys that unite us all, no matter the color of our skin. We can and will dig into them. There is also some work we need to do separately. Our white-bodied friends are feeling the need to sort out their whiteness, undo the racism embedded inside, and cause less harm to their brown and black-bodied, immigrant, LGBTQ and native neighbors. We’ll take that work out of our community gatherings and find other places for it. And if you are not white you have special needs right now too. I won’t pretend to know what they are, but I want you to have space for that.

Epilogue – the image above: I was headed to the post office this afternoon and got stopped by the sign, “Construction Zone: No Thru Traffic.” It felt like the story of my life. A-l-w-a-y-s under construction. But, you know, I’m proud of that. And then the “No Thru Traffic.” Ain’t that true! So many people just want to get through it, get over it, not slow down. Well, if that is what you are looking for, sorry, we’re a mess. This isn’t the way through, this is the place for people who are willing to be in the moment and deal with what is at hand. This is the journey, not the destination. The place for people who are willing to be in it with us, not figured out, making mistakes, trying stuff, saying they’re sorry, bumping, jostling around and getting dirty.

So, Sunday mornings and other whole Fabric gatherings – We’ll work hard to fashion them to be for and by all of us, regardless of the characteristics that separate us.

Our individual work, we’ll support and promote that too, but it will be in Groups, special opportunities, and the like.

Stay tuned and excuse our mess.

Pause. Act. Learn. Repeat: Kylie Dalager

After George Floyd's murder, I saw many of my social media friends posting about their outrage. I wanted to post something, too. Because that's what you do in 2020; you post, and then you breathe a sigh of relief. You post, and you're done. 

So I posted about #abolishthepolice and how I initially couldn't even imagine what that looked like, but after talking with my youngest sister who lives in Minneapolis, whose neighborhood had joined together to create a network of night watch patrols after the riots started (because the police shot rubber bullets at the neighbors who were out on their very own porch after curfew), I was open to the idea. 

It took me three days to craft my post, a poem meant to support my sister and her community. I expected my opinion to spark a healthy conversation with someone, maybe even someone who did not agree with me. I did not expect my post to be hurtful.

But it was. I received two comments that made me feel awful. The first was sent by a cousin whom I really love and respect. Her partner is a police officer and in the National Guard, and he had been called to Minneapolis the same day that I published my thoughts on Facebook. The message she sent said that my words were very hurtful, and I understood; if I were worried about my husband, Oscar, and I read that someone I love thinks we don't need people like him anymore because they are bad, I would feel terrible, too. 

I answered that I was sorry, I never meant to upset anyone, and just because I think that our justice system isn't working for us anymore does not mean that I don't care about either of you. 

The response I got was short; Well, I guess we just don't agree. 

And that was it. 

Instead of sparking a healthy conversation with someone who did not agree with me, my opinion squashed it. 

The second comment made me feel even worse, because it came from Oscar. In my post I had used a picture of the two of us, and that made him feel uncomfortable. He felt that my opinion was very harsh, very non-negotiable, and was worried. Oscar is a person of color, and unbeknownst to me, had been very aware of the upsetting comments that were being left on the Facebook page of the brewery where he works right after they posted their #blackouttuesday square. He was scared that someone would connect the dots and threaten us, too.

I wanted to puke. I didn't know he felt like that! 

I deleted the picture and the post. 

But before I did, I reread it, and I was truly embarrassed by what I had written. It was so obviously written by someone who assumed they were now "woke" after the lightbulb had turned on just once during a conversation with their sister. I had not considered how my thoughts would affect the people I love, including the one I love the most!  

I thought about these two interactions for the next few days. I cried over them. Why had this gone so badly? 

That same week, I listened to Fabric's most recent podcast. Melissa talks about how during the past two weeks, a lot of us (read: white people) were processing things using the following steps: Pause, Act, Learn. We paused at the news of George Floyd's murder, the protests happening in our cities, and the riots and looting that followed. After pausing, we acted; went to a protest, donated money, donated food, wrote a Facebook post, responded to a Facebook post. If our action wasn’t the best one, we learned from it. 

For example, I learned that if I want to create a comfortable space for these uncomfortable conversations to be held with my fellow white people, I need to be gentle. Like Sonya Renee Taylor says, "some of you are coming into the conversation and you're not ready to be in this conversation." I need to respect that not everyone is in the same headspace as I am and then meet them where they are, not where I think they should be.

So I apologized to my cousin. Like, an actual apology. Not a fake one like before, the I’m sorry, but. I used the I’m sorry, period. She responded that she appreciated and accepted my apology, and I know that I will eventually be able to talk with her about our different opinions. 

Soon after, an uncle that lives in a small town in northern Minnesota commented something that I disagreed with about the #abolishthepolice movement. I paused, but instead of acting right away, I learned first. I learned that many small cities share their police departments with the surrounding small cities. With more context, I understood how imagining a world with specific task forces instead of police would be very difficult for him. And then I acted. I told him, I understand where you're coming from now. Your city doesn't have enough room in its budget for even one police officer, let alone a social worker and a paramedic. It makes perfect sense that disbanding your police department seems like such an impossibility to you. He then accepted some examples  I sent him of social programs that had been implemented in lieu of law enforcement in big cities, but that were concentrated in very small areas. Because I was willing to learn from him, he was willing to learn from me.

In Zoom church on Sunday, when Melissa asked us to write about times we had paused or acted throughout the week, I noticed that she too had rearranged the steps: Pause, Learn, Act. I think she realized that same thing I had; Why act first and risk making a mistake when you can learn first and avoid it? I had a few more examples to jot down, and I know that there will be many more. The race to true equality isn't the mile run, it's a marathon. Pause, Learn, Act, Repeat. Pause, Learn, Act, Repeat. From now 'til the cows come home. 

Pause. Act. Learn. Repeat: Angie O'Leary

Where have you seen this rhythm: pause, act, learn, repeat, played out in your experience this past week?

From Angie O’Leary

Pause: How am I fitting into what is happening in this world? As a white woman who is differently abled, I could choose to self-identify as a person with a disability but I’m not sure I fit that mold and perhaps that further marginalizes me. I don’t identify with any group. All my life I’ve been told - Angie I don’t see you as different. The unspoken part of this message is that it is bad to be different, there is something inherently wrong with being different. I have lived through people staring at me, excluding me, thinking I must be stupid, deciding for themselves that I can’t do things without first knowing me and my abilities. I have survived medical trauma and the resulting medical PTSD. There is no one in my life who can relate. I’m not saying this to detract from the current racial divide in this country. I am not saying that I have lived the same struggles or discrimination as people of color have experienced. I am saying it because I understand how terrible it is to live in a world that does not fully accept you for you. It is tiring to have to prove yourself again and again as equal again. I am saying because I stand in solidarity with the Black Lives Matter movement.

Act: What am I doing about it? Last night my family went to a George Floyd march. Ryan and Eli were off doing something and so I found a grassy area for Lucas to crawl. A black man saw some litter on the ground and began cleaning up the area so Lucas didn’t put it in his mouth. I also saw a few pieces and followed suit. We both headed toward the garbage with the black man leading the way. I held Lucas in my right arm and the litter in my left hand. When the man turned around he offered to take the litter from me by holding out his hand. He was expecting me to easily drop it in his hand, as most people would. If you have ever watched me release an item from my left hand you know that it takes me a little longer and often I have to guide it out with my right hand. This man had no choice but to watch and wait while I dropped the litter in his hand. He was forced to slow down and notice me. I watched him quickly process through a lot of uncomfortable feelings people have when they see me. I could see the light bulb turn on.

Learn: How am I different and growing?  For a long time I have struggled with how to reach out to people of color who are my acquaintances and people of color who I have never met to let them know that I see them, not just from the lens of a white woman but from the lens of somebody who all to well knows what it is like to be marginalized. There is no easy answer, but this man showed me it can be done. I could tell he noticed that I wasn’t just another white woman but I was another marginalized human being who knew what it was like to be discriminated against. He then did what I have wanted to do but didn’t know how without feeling like I was somehow contributing to racism by singling someone out. After disposing of the litter he came back and engaged in conversation to say I also see you. 

Repeat: The cycle continues. Again, I do not share this to take away from the Black Lives Matter movement. I say this in solidarity as a person from one marginalized group to another. A united front is more powerful than a divided people. Together we shall overcome.

Giving God a Pass

Understandably, we humans turn to the heavens to make sense of suffering. But it doesn’t always make sense, does it? Where have you heard yourself or others giving God credit for good stuff this week? What about the bad stuff? Do you just give God a pass on that?

Taking God seriously doesn’t have to mean minimizing people’s suffering or just not thinking so hard.

Do you see God as being part of the world with us or apart from the world? Even 3000 years ago there was a notion that God wasn’t distant and outside our existence but part of it. And all that effort humans spend appeasing God to avoid or explain suffering didn’t make sense. Wonder again at how the ways of God might be counterintuitive but they make sense as you read Psalm 50.

Listen to the full message from Not One Stone: If it doesn’t make sense, it doesn’t make sense.

Does God make sense?

With this week’s message Greg Meyer started a conversation about the fine line between holding wonder and mystery, and harboring illusions. How do you know the difference? Are there things that you’ve carried with you that don’t make sense? Are there ways in which you have squeezed out space for wonder or being called to a deeper place?

This is worth wrestling with. Listen to the podcast and talk about it!