See what I mean?

I am the youngest of five and am the baby of the family by a seven-year spread on the youngest of my older siblings. Our house was a noisy affair with a lot of activity. Yet, amidst all the noise and words and energy one could always find a quiet space; what Virginia Wolfe would call that all-important “room of one’s own.”

I’m not sure how my parents pulled off this little domestic miracle, yet, a large farm-style house with magnificent front and back porches and set upon several acres aided greatly to the gift of one’s own space.

The mixture of raucousness and quiet spaces helped to shape me as one who enjoys a good party and one who needs silent spaces and time apart; as one who loves nothing more than a table filled with family and friends, good food and loud conversation and one who likes libraries and has no problem going to a movie by herself.

I share this because of a recent article in the New York Times (see Special Olympics and the Burden of Happiness by Lawrence Downes) that speaks of the isolation that impacts persons with disabilities and is the norm more than the boisterous cheers and hugs being experienced at the World Special Olympics which concluded yesterday with the closing ceremony.

Isolation impacts one’s health and well-being. For many persons with disabilities and seniors, being “shut in” (sadly, still the preferred reference point for congregations) is more than just loneliness it is the bearing being apart from others and one’s community has upon an individual. Barbara Streisand aside, it’s not just the lucky ones who need people --- we all need each other.

In AVATAR instead of saying, “I love you,” they said, “I see you.” How perfect. I see you as a unique individual. I acknowledge your self-worth. You are not to be easily labeled or categorized or institutionalized. You are. You matter. I see you.

Imagine the impact if we unplugged, moved our eyes from whatever mobile devices and actually made eye contact, acknowledged one another --- each one --- everyone --- all the others.

When I worked in Washington, DC I was in a ministry group that took on as our action being in ministry with persons who are homeless. (NOTE: For every group, please use person first knowledge. One is more than one’s housing situation or bank account or ability….thanks, mini sermonette concluded). As we got to know Jay and Jonathan and Daniel they said the toughest thing for them was when persons would cross by on the other side of the street or look away or fail to simply acknowledge…to see them as a person.

It’s true we all need folks in our corners and our own support network who cheer for us and chant our names, yet, before that we each need to be seen and acknowledged as an important part of our shared community.

Who did you see today?
sj;

Equal to the Apostles

Are you planning to celebrate the Feast of Saint Mary Magdelene today, 22 July? To the left of this post, the icon by Robert Lentz features Mary holding an egg. Legend has it that when Mary went to Rome to preach the Resurrection to the Emperor of Rome, he was more than dubious. Pointing to a basket of eggs he exclaimed that he'd no more believe in the resurrection of Jesus than he would that the eggs were red not white. At that point, Mary picked up an egg and it turned bright red.

Long after Anne Bancroft portrayed Mary Magdalene in the annually aired t.v. special, "Jesus of Nazareth," I, a woman answering the call to ordained ministry, took Mary Magdalene as my personal saint to kick some ecclesiastical keester!

As a kid, I remember sitting in church while my mother preached the sermon. Yes, at the traditional 11 am service. Yes, from the pulpit. And, yes, very well, thank you. What was shocking to me was not that my mother preached. I was shocked by the reaction of Mr. Myers, the kindly, older gentleman who shared our pew and every week provided me with peppermint patties and spearmint gummy candies. Upon witnessing my mother deliver the sermon, he with much disdain and disgust exclaimed, "a woman ought to keep quiet in church!" So much for my Sunday morning "Sugar Daddy."

I've been ordained 23 years in the United Methodist tradition and....sigh...have my own stories to tell. Members from one congregation called the District Superintendent (my boss so to speak) and said that I was re-writing scripture. Why such an accusation? Because the previous Sunday while preaching from the text where Jesus calls his disciples to go and fish for disciples I read "Jesus called them to fish for men and women." GASP! In previous centuries, the disillusioned and much a-feared congregants probably would have fetched wood and kerosene as well.

I remember getting into a bit of a tiff with the senior pastor of my first appointment when during rehearsals for the youth-lead Easter pageant (which I was directing), he showed up at rehearsal and told the young teen playing Mary Magdalene that "Oooh! Watch out! You're playing a prostitute!" Now, pause for a moment to unpack how incredibly inappropriate his comments were on literally every level. Of course, I jumped in with a loud (shocked?) diatribe on how scripture never says Mary Magdalene was a prostitute and that fasle view is derived from male-dominated, chauvenistic, fearful influences in the church that wanted to try and keep women silent and stupid. It's hard to know how to be helpful and educational at times.

On this Feast Day for Saint Mary Magdalene celebrate by proclaiming what you know to be true no matter who tries to silence you.

Raise a glass to all the strong women who have nurtured and continue to shape you with their grace and courage.

Be bold. Be Beautiful.

sj;

The right words

Your heart breaks for British soccer player, Laura Bassett, she, who kicked the ball into her own team’s net --- an “own goal,” a mistake seemingly too hard to shoulder.

Watch the reply of the game and you too break a little over Bassett’s bad break. It lost the game. For England. In the semi-final. Of the World Cup.

She is weeping….so much more than tears….she heaves as she sobs. One of her teammates holds her, cradling her teammate’s head that is buried in her chest as she walks her from the pitch.

Her coach comes to her and wraps his arms around her.
The announcer keeps repeating, “What can you say to her?”

Nothing.

She’ll hear it. She’ll read it. She’ll watch it ---- all kinds of messages of well-wishes and pick-me-ups. Yet, what she needs is space and support and knowing persons are there.

For most of us we have been on both sides of this moment ---- needing comforted and wanting to offer comfort. Why do we always feel we need to say something? We’re nervous and not knowing what to say so we too often resort to worn-out cliché’s.

Stop.

One does not need to say anything. What matters is that you are there....in the midst of it... with and through. That is enough.

sj;