We still don't really know why he did it. But he did, and apparently he was a person who hated everything we stand for. That was enough to trigger a moment not only of sadness and prayer for the people directly involved, but also of fear for ourselves. I'm sure Manchester, New Hampshire, is not the only conservative place with a Unitarian Universalist Church, so my thoughts and prayers go out to my sisters and brothers in those other places, places where it's not inconceivable that some gun toting, disgruntled desperado could choose killing us as a form of self expression.
Our congregation's history includes an episode of terrible vandalism, a crime never solved, when the whole interior of the church was systematically trashed. Was it a hate crime? No one knows, but for the people who were there, it sure felt like it. Personal histories of our members include hateful encounters-- people who were fired from jobs because of their sexual orientation, people who were threatened, even actually attacked, for traveling in the company of someone of the same gender. My own history stretches back in time and across the miles to my childhood in Northern Virginia where my parents were threatened for being "n-er lovers" and all kinds of liberals were referred to as "communists", a time when I learned to be very cautious about expressing my views.
The tree of fear has real roots, and this event has watered them with blood. Let us use it as an opportunity to remember the bad old days and to notice the badness of today, sure, but let us also use this as a time to resolve again that our views have importance in the world, importance that is worth a calculated risk. These risks need to be acknowledged. But let us reflect on them and use those reflections develop the courage we need to stand for what is right in ways that can reach out effectively to our surrounding communities.
Monday, July 28, 2008
Monday, July 14, 2008
Visions from Chautauqua
It's not like anything else, this gated village on a lake in the not-so wilds of far western New York State. Families come and stay there for a day, a weekend, a week, or all summer, where a feast of cultural opportunities is spread before them. I got up early for Zen meditation with a senior teacher from a well-known Zen center. Others got up early to go sailing or play tennis. Still others slept late in the blissful quiet of this mostly car-free environment. Worship services, lectures, conversations, book signings, concerts, recitals, every hour had another cultural temptation to absorb. Some of the cottages are quite grand, while others are modest. There are hotels and condos catering to most budgets (no campground, though -- there is a definitely higher-than-average-income feel about the place), and really, they are quite interested in making sure there is not a lot of driving of cars. That's what got my attention.
We had paid over $4.00 per gallon the last time we filled the tank on our way over there from New England, so it's not surprising that fuel was on my mind. So here's the deal. There's a little "downtown" area with the library, some shops, a post office, and a grocery store at the center of the place. The other places to go are within walking distance, though there is a trolley service of sorts, and a bus, both making the rounds on a regular basis. Out by the main gate there's an early morning farmers' market for fresh local produce. You can almost just go there and stay all summer without going "off campus" as they say. It's true, there's not a lot of privacy, because the lots are all small and everyone is always out on the front porch.
I spoke with a woman who said she had been coming for over twenty years, arriving from New York City with her carry-on bag, gathering up the things she would have stored from the last season, settling into the same room in the same residence year after year. And in all this time, she has not brought a car with her. I actually didn't ask if she owned one, which maybe she doesn't, since she lives in The City. It seems she wrote a book a long time ago that is still used in schools, that still brings her a dependable stream of cash that makes this vacation possible. But adjustments have to be made. This year, she will have to have someone drive her out to the pharmacy in town, because the delivery service has been changed from the drug store she always had used to a different one, and she hadn't gotten around to changing her prescription. About once a week, someone drives her to town so she can do a few errands, visit the "big" grocery store, and so forth. Otherwise, she walks or takes the trolley or the bus. There's plenty to do, and people she knows who either stay all summer themselves or drift through by the week.
I couldn't help thinking our regular neighborhoods could be more like this. There's Boys' and Girls' Club for the younger set every week day. There are electric carts for people with mobility issues. One payment includes all the culture you can absorb. And while you actually are able to leave at any time, there's not much need. Why not get out of our cars and start walking and biking and taking public transportation? Get to know our neighbors as we walk past one another's porches? I'm sure we wouldn't be living the way we are if there hadn't been some big drawbacks to this old-timey way of doing things, but this glimpse of it made me think that what is old might just become new again. I say, let's take our vision from Chautauqua, and invent a new kind of neighborhood that works without having to drive so much.
We had paid over $4.00 per gallon the last time we filled the tank on our way over there from New England, so it's not surprising that fuel was on my mind. So here's the deal. There's a little "downtown" area with the library, some shops, a post office, and a grocery store at the center of the place. The other places to go are within walking distance, though there is a trolley service of sorts, and a bus, both making the rounds on a regular basis. Out by the main gate there's an early morning farmers' market for fresh local produce. You can almost just go there and stay all summer without going "off campus" as they say. It's true, there's not a lot of privacy, because the lots are all small and everyone is always out on the front porch.
I spoke with a woman who said she had been coming for over twenty years, arriving from New York City with her carry-on bag, gathering up the things she would have stored from the last season, settling into the same room in the same residence year after year. And in all this time, she has not brought a car with her. I actually didn't ask if she owned one, which maybe she doesn't, since she lives in The City. It seems she wrote a book a long time ago that is still used in schools, that still brings her a dependable stream of cash that makes this vacation possible. But adjustments have to be made. This year, she will have to have someone drive her out to the pharmacy in town, because the delivery service has been changed from the drug store she always had used to a different one, and she hadn't gotten around to changing her prescription. About once a week, someone drives her to town so she can do a few errands, visit the "big" grocery store, and so forth. Otherwise, she walks or takes the trolley or the bus. There's plenty to do, and people she knows who either stay all summer themselves or drift through by the week.
I couldn't help thinking our regular neighborhoods could be more like this. There's Boys' and Girls' Club for the younger set every week day. There are electric carts for people with mobility issues. One payment includes all the culture you can absorb. And while you actually are able to leave at any time, there's not much need. Why not get out of our cars and start walking and biking and taking public transportation? Get to know our neighbors as we walk past one another's porches? I'm sure we wouldn't be living the way we are if there hadn't been some big drawbacks to this old-timey way of doing things, but this glimpse of it made me think that what is old might just become new again. I say, let's take our vision from Chautauqua, and invent a new kind of neighborhood that works without having to drive so much.
Saturday, July 5, 2008
Florida in June
The General Assembly of the Unitarian Universalist Association gathered in Fort Lauderdale towards the end of June, giving me yet another chance to celebrate my birthday in an exotic location without my family anywhere around. It's generally worth it, as it was this time in ways that I am still sorting out in my head, producing an untidy flood of documents that I am still sorting out on my desk. But going to South Florida in June left me with one very clear impression: people should not be living in such numbers on this hot, fragile, wet, beautiful, sandy shore.
So there we were, gathered into a neat, security-checked corner of this place, one that could be made to appear much like any other convention center, air conditioned into not having to go outside, offered food much like any other convention food, so we could pretend that humans were in fact supposed to be here. For the Haitian cab drivers, it seemed like home. And for us, too, it seemed like home, the home we re-create every year so we can celebrate our milestones, have our conversations about theology and practice, argue about how to do the social justice we want to do, and just generally get into our way of being together -- worship of words and songs and music and artistic ambiance, shopping and schmoozing in the exhibit hall, listening in the plenary sessions, participating in workshops. We might as well be on another planet, and our Planet Convention is in South Florida this year.
I find it difficult to do General Assembly, so this sense that people ought not to live here, ought not to visit here, this sense of wrongness fit right in with my mood. But by limiting the amount I did, by focusing on reconnecting with colleagues, I was actually able to enjoy the time I spent on Planet Convention. I met new friends at the International Council of Unitarian Universalists' booth and related activities. I met old friends at the Andover Newton Theological School event. I hung out with the women of E-Meetinghouse, people with whom I share an electronic fellowship but do not see, especially in groups, unless I come here. My workshop on "Eight Spiritual Practices to Save The World" went well, and I made new friends around that.
I found one friend who also has a General Assembly birthday and had dinner with him. I discovered another friend has a General Assembly birthday, so I had dinner with her the next night. I came away with tasks to do to follow up on new and old connections, and with a sense that I actually look forward to General Assembly next year.
Maybe now that I have conquered the thought that people ought not go to places like that, I can persuade members of the congregation I serve that they, too, should visit Planet Convention, wherever it happens, to make new friends, learn new ways, and celebrate with thousands of others like us.
So there we were, gathered into a neat, security-checked corner of this place, one that could be made to appear much like any other convention center, air conditioned into not having to go outside, offered food much like any other convention food, so we could pretend that humans were in fact supposed to be here. For the Haitian cab drivers, it seemed like home. And for us, too, it seemed like home, the home we re-create every year so we can celebrate our milestones, have our conversations about theology and practice, argue about how to do the social justice we want to do, and just generally get into our way of being together -- worship of words and songs and music and artistic ambiance, shopping and schmoozing in the exhibit hall, listening in the plenary sessions, participating in workshops. We might as well be on another planet, and our Planet Convention is in South Florida this year.
I find it difficult to do General Assembly, so this sense that people ought not to live here, ought not to visit here, this sense of wrongness fit right in with my mood. But by limiting the amount I did, by focusing on reconnecting with colleagues, I was actually able to enjoy the time I spent on Planet Convention. I met new friends at the International Council of Unitarian Universalists' booth and related activities. I met old friends at the Andover Newton Theological School event. I hung out with the women of E-Meetinghouse, people with whom I share an electronic fellowship but do not see, especially in groups, unless I come here. My workshop on "Eight Spiritual Practices to Save The World" went well, and I made new friends around that.
I found one friend who also has a General Assembly birthday and had dinner with him. I discovered another friend has a General Assembly birthday, so I had dinner with her the next night. I came away with tasks to do to follow up on new and old connections, and with a sense that I actually look forward to General Assembly next year.
Maybe now that I have conquered the thought that people ought not go to places like that, I can persuade members of the congregation I serve that they, too, should visit Planet Convention, wherever it happens, to make new friends, learn new ways, and celebrate with thousands of others like us.
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