Today's news bring the somewhat surprising revelation of the end of the Tamil Tigers in Sri Lanka. Long a militant movement dedicated to the establishment of a homeland for Tamil people in their majority Sinhalese country, they have been decisively defeated after a thirty year struggle. Today's news also brings the story that nonviolent pro-democracy activist Daw Aun Sang Suu Kyi is being tried for a crime in connection with the invasion of her home by a supporter who swam across the lake to the place where she was being held under house arrest. The Sinhalese have won against the Tamils: it remains to be seen whether the result will be repression or coexistence with mutual respect. The pro-democracy activists continue to struggle in Myanmar with no visible results.
Violence has ultimately failed in Sri Lanka. Nonviolence has not yet overcome the institutional repression in Myanmar. The caring observer is perplexed. I want to believe that nonviolence holds the key. But the balance of violence-based power in both countries is in the hands of their governments.
If nonviolence is the answer, then shouldn't the state-sponsored violence be curtailed? In Myanmar, the government doesn't believe in democracy, so of course they don't believe in the peace in which democracy can flourish. In Sri Lanka, there is a democracy of sorts, dominated by the Sinhalese majority. Do they want to sponsor the peace in which democracy can flourish for the Tamils as well as for them?
I don't know what I am learning from the news today. I believe in peace, and I believe in nonviolence, and I wonder if justice can be achieved at all.
Monday, May 18, 2009
Monday, May 11, 2009
Communicating Passionately
I chatted with representatives of several Unitarian Universalist congregations recently because I'm looking for a new job. All three groups spoke in guarded terms of the "disagreements" they had going in their congregations. I was bemused that somehow I had made connections with three seemingly very different groups, scratched the surface, and found the same kind of trouble: ongoing disagreements that were sapping the strength of their church communities. Then I spoke with a colleague who had led a number of congregations. She said it was really, really common.
Because look, she said, we are the people who assert our freedom and our individuality while at the same time proclaiming our welcome of all different kinds of people with all different kinds of views. Right, I thought, as I remembered a conversation with a psychologist who told me she thought UU's, in contrast to "normal" Protestant denominations, were mostly intuitive types on the Meyers-Briggs scale. An intuitive type myself, I am painfully aware of our tendency to come up with a brilliant idea about the general outline of whatever-it-is, letting the details sort of take care of themselves (or not). I'm always looking around for someone more on the "sensible" side of that scale to help me complete any plan. So there we are, big on proclamations and short on specifics. And in congregational life, it seems we are paying a price.
That made me think of another time when I started following the advice of a book on how to get along with my children. It was awhile ago, and I believe the book was "How to talk so your kids will listen; how to listen so your kids will talk." There were definite formulas about what to say.
"I have confidence you can figure out what to do" ... or, more to the point,
"What you are suggesting is contrary to my deeply held values."
It seemed very artificial, but I was determined. Gradually it became more natural. I did learn how to talk so they would listen and listen so they would talk. We did better with some things than others.
Now I'm thinking of those days again as I think of congregations and their needs for internal communication about important things. Our deeply held values get dragged into what's happening at church with not-surprising frequency.
It turns out there is a whole mini-industry built around the need for people to get along at work, another place where people's deeply held values can rub up against each other in a big way. And sort of entwined with the industry of helping people in workplaces get along is another set of institutes and programs aimed at making peace among people who are actually at war or close to it. Of course, we can make use of some of this.
I'm most taken with the work of Marshall Rosenberg and his followers, called Nonviolent Communication or Compassionate Communication, and alongside that with some work of the Harvard Negotiation Project summed up in the book Difficult Conversations.
What I'm wondering is what it would take to get a whole congregation to go around for a substantial period of time speaking in ways that feel artificial about things they haven't dared speak about for fear of what might happen. The use of "I-statements" is just the beginning. Does anyone have a clue about how to make this work? (The intuitive with the big idea is reaching out to the sensibles to complete the plan...)
Because look, she said, we are the people who assert our freedom and our individuality while at the same time proclaiming our welcome of all different kinds of people with all different kinds of views. Right, I thought, as I remembered a conversation with a psychologist who told me she thought UU's, in contrast to "normal" Protestant denominations, were mostly intuitive types on the Meyers-Briggs scale. An intuitive type myself, I am painfully aware of our tendency to come up with a brilliant idea about the general outline of whatever-it-is, letting the details sort of take care of themselves (or not). I'm always looking around for someone more on the "sensible" side of that scale to help me complete any plan. So there we are, big on proclamations and short on specifics. And in congregational life, it seems we are paying a price.
That made me think of another time when I started following the advice of a book on how to get along with my children. It was awhile ago, and I believe the book was "How to talk so your kids will listen; how to listen so your kids will talk." There were definite formulas about what to say.
"I have confidence you can figure out what to do" ... or, more to the point,
"What you are suggesting is contrary to my deeply held values."
It seemed very artificial, but I was determined. Gradually it became more natural. I did learn how to talk so they would listen and listen so they would talk. We did better with some things than others.
Now I'm thinking of those days again as I think of congregations and their needs for internal communication about important things. Our deeply held values get dragged into what's happening at church with not-surprising frequency.
It turns out there is a whole mini-industry built around the need for people to get along at work, another place where people's deeply held values can rub up against each other in a big way. And sort of entwined with the industry of helping people in workplaces get along is another set of institutes and programs aimed at making peace among people who are actually at war or close to it. Of course, we can make use of some of this.
I'm most taken with the work of Marshall Rosenberg and his followers, called Nonviolent Communication or Compassionate Communication, and alongside that with some work of the Harvard Negotiation Project summed up in the book Difficult Conversations.
What I'm wondering is what it would take to get a whole congregation to go around for a substantial period of time speaking in ways that feel artificial about things they haven't dared speak about for fear of what might happen. The use of "I-statements" is just the beginning. Does anyone have a clue about how to make this work? (The intuitive with the big idea is reaching out to the sensibles to complete the plan...)
Saturday, May 2, 2009
Kind of a Surprise
The gallery was packed on Wednesday morning as the state Senate took up the question of same-gender marriage. I didn't get in, because I had been standing outside with two others from church holding a sign supporting both same-gender marriage and transgender rights. The bill to include transgender in the list of categories for nondiscrimination went down to defeat -- the silly argument that there was enough text in the law to do the job already apparently carried the day. But somehow, same-gender marriage passed!
People I saw afterward (and I wasn't in the gallery, where it was surely different) were subdued. What would the governor do? I think we found it kind of a surprise after all discouraging hype and all the bluster from the opponents. The explicit separation of civil and religious marriage, explicitly allowing religious communities to make their own decisions apparently made the difference. There had been creative thinking in the heat of the thing. A last-minute change crafted in the moment made it work.
It even took a few days for New Hampshire Freedom to Marry to organize a petition drive to address the governor. I think they must have been surprised, too. But yes, Governor Lynch does need to hear from us. In these times of economic difficulty compounded by a health scare, it is great to be able to move forward with legislation that will actually make life better for some people without spending a lot of money!
People I saw afterward (and I wasn't in the gallery, where it was surely different) were subdued. What would the governor do? I think we found it kind of a surprise after all discouraging hype and all the bluster from the opponents. The explicit separation of civil and religious marriage, explicitly allowing religious communities to make their own decisions apparently made the difference. There had been creative thinking in the heat of the thing. A last-minute change crafted in the moment made it work.
It even took a few days for New Hampshire Freedom to Marry to organize a petition drive to address the governor. I think they must have been surprised, too. But yes, Governor Lynch does need to hear from us. In these times of economic difficulty compounded by a health scare, it is great to be able to move forward with legislation that will actually make life better for some people without spending a lot of money!
Wednesday, April 15, 2009
Testimony on Same-Gender Marriage
This is testimony prepared for delivery to the New Hampshire Senate on April 15, 2009.
Honored Senators, Fellow Citizens
I am Rev. Mary Wellemeyer, Parish Minister of the Unitarian Universalist Church of Manchester. Unitarians and Universalists have had congregations in New Hampshire since the early nineteenth century. We are not large, but we have deep roots. Among our nation's founding fathers, John Adams and Thomas Jefferson were Unitarians; Benjamin Rush, another signer of the Declaration of Independence, was a Universalist. There are twenty-two congregations representing today's unified movement of Unitarian Universalism in New Hampshire today. Several members of the legislature are members of Unitarian Universalist congregations.
Our religious tradition has long recognized that some among us by nature turn toward romantic love and partnership with others of the same gender. Because we affirm the value of settled, long-term, relationships in our communities, and because we value the people who choose settled, long-term relationships with partners of the same gender, Unitarian Universalist ministers have been performing ceremonies of union for same-gender couples since the 1970's.
The present legal climate where states distinguish between civil unions and marriages is no less confusing to me as a religious professional than the previous arrangement where same-gender couples had no legal status. What we have now is better for the couples, but still difficult for me as clergy. For years, we Unitarian Universalist ministers understood that the ceremonies of holy union we performed were religious only, not backed by the force of law. And yet, we were inclined to call them “weddings,” with the resulting status of the couple a “religious marriage.” I still perform religious weddings for same-gender couples and say of the couples who are so joined that they are “religiously married”, although in terms of the law they are joined in this odd category called civil union.
I find myself thinking, “why can't they just be married?” There's a gap between those who are qualified for a religious marriage in our tradition and those who are qualified for a civil marriage in the state of New Hampshire. I declare this morning that my confusion and frustration stems from an abridgement of free exercise of religion for the well-established, mainstream religious community I serve. There may be other ways to solve this problem legally, but one of the most straightforward is the one before you today: make marriage legal for committed couples of the same gender.
Please: I ask you to take action to align the religious practice of those traditions that accept same-gender couples as qualified for marriage with the civil practice of marriage. Let those whom God has joined together not be relegated to a kind of not-quite marriage by the State of New Hampshire.
Honored Senators, Fellow Citizens
I am Rev. Mary Wellemeyer, Parish Minister of the Unitarian Universalist Church of Manchester. Unitarians and Universalists have had congregations in New Hampshire since the early nineteenth century. We are not large, but we have deep roots. Among our nation's founding fathers, John Adams and Thomas Jefferson were Unitarians; Benjamin Rush, another signer of the Declaration of Independence, was a Universalist. There are twenty-two congregations representing today's unified movement of Unitarian Universalism in New Hampshire today. Several members of the legislature are members of Unitarian Universalist congregations.
Our religious tradition has long recognized that some among us by nature turn toward romantic love and partnership with others of the same gender. Because we affirm the value of settled, long-term, relationships in our communities, and because we value the people who choose settled, long-term relationships with partners of the same gender, Unitarian Universalist ministers have been performing ceremonies of union for same-gender couples since the 1970's.
The present legal climate where states distinguish between civil unions and marriages is no less confusing to me as a religious professional than the previous arrangement where same-gender couples had no legal status. What we have now is better for the couples, but still difficult for me as clergy. For years, we Unitarian Universalist ministers understood that the ceremonies of holy union we performed were religious only, not backed by the force of law. And yet, we were inclined to call them “weddings,” with the resulting status of the couple a “religious marriage.” I still perform religious weddings for same-gender couples and say of the couples who are so joined that they are “religiously married”, although in terms of the law they are joined in this odd category called civil union.
I find myself thinking, “why can't they just be married?” There's a gap between those who are qualified for a religious marriage in our tradition and those who are qualified for a civil marriage in the state of New Hampshire. I declare this morning that my confusion and frustration stems from an abridgement of free exercise of religion for the well-established, mainstream religious community I serve. There may be other ways to solve this problem legally, but one of the most straightforward is the one before you today: make marriage legal for committed couples of the same gender.
Please: I ask you to take action to align the religious practice of those traditions that accept same-gender couples as qualified for marriage with the civil practice of marriage. Let those whom God has joined together not be relegated to a kind of not-quite marriage by the State of New Hampshire.
Thursday, April 9, 2009
Easter, again
I haven't been paying much attention to this blog lately, but maybe Easter is a good time to begin again. My life is moving in a different direction, and at this season, the pace is accelerating -- there are things to do and deadlines to meet to make myself ready to leave Manchester and become an intentional interim minister. I'm excited and energized by the prospect!
The blog started as a way to keep in touch when I was on sabbatical in spring of 2007, and has shifted emphasis along the way, but now I'm back in pilgrimage mode, this time entering on a project to be a kind of 21st century circuit rider. I see this as a return to my original intention, to keep in touch as I travel and to record what I learn. Two years ago at Easter I was in San Cristobal de las Casas, in Chiapas, Mexico, experiencing the traditional ceremonies that mark this Christian high holy day in a rather traditional place. There were a crowd of people who followed the procession of Christ carrying the cross, many dressed in black, on Good Friday. Then all was festivity on Easter Sunday. This year I am again celebrating with my ambivalent congregation, lifting Christianity out of "Lo the Earth Awakes Again" with the help of Rebecca Parker and Rita Nakashima Brock, wondering why it's so hard to include Christian holidays as among the many traditions we honor. Where will I be next Easter? In the land of Unitarian Universalist ambivalence, I'm sure, but someplace different, with its own traditions and its own Easter hangups.
I'm hoping to learn much about congregations in transition, and in the process to learn about who they are and how they do church. I have ambitions to help them be their best selves in the world, overcoming old habits that keep them stuck in the past. Can that happen? Maybe sometimes. And maybe sometimes it is sufficient to be with them, love them, and do church with them more or less the way they are used to having it. I feel the season's joyance, as the hymnodist suggests, partly from the spring and partly from the liturgical calendar. New possibilites waft through my life on the fresh breeze. It is good to be alive and good to be part of this faith tradition.
The blog started as a way to keep in touch when I was on sabbatical in spring of 2007, and has shifted emphasis along the way, but now I'm back in pilgrimage mode, this time entering on a project to be a kind of 21st century circuit rider. I see this as a return to my original intention, to keep in touch as I travel and to record what I learn. Two years ago at Easter I was in San Cristobal de las Casas, in Chiapas, Mexico, experiencing the traditional ceremonies that mark this Christian high holy day in a rather traditional place. There were a crowd of people who followed the procession of Christ carrying the cross, many dressed in black, on Good Friday. Then all was festivity on Easter Sunday. This year I am again celebrating with my ambivalent congregation, lifting Christianity out of "Lo the Earth Awakes Again" with the help of Rebecca Parker and Rita Nakashima Brock, wondering why it's so hard to include Christian holidays as among the many traditions we honor. Where will I be next Easter? In the land of Unitarian Universalist ambivalence, I'm sure, but someplace different, with its own traditions and its own Easter hangups.
I'm hoping to learn much about congregations in transition, and in the process to learn about who they are and how they do church. I have ambitions to help them be their best selves in the world, overcoming old habits that keep them stuck in the past. Can that happen? Maybe sometimes. And maybe sometimes it is sufficient to be with them, love them, and do church with them more or less the way they are used to having it. I feel the season's joyance, as the hymnodist suggests, partly from the spring and partly from the liturgical calendar. New possibilites waft through my life on the fresh breeze. It is good to be alive and good to be part of this faith tradition.
Thursday, December 4, 2008
Death for Michael Addison?
It was a dreadful deed done by a young man with a violent past. He shot the police officer, and he had been thinking of shooting cops for days, if not longer. Is death the answer for this crime?
I think of lynchings, of course, when I think of the death penalty. And I think of the many mistakes made in the many courts where death was meted out only to be overturned when more evidence was gained. This one is not one of those. But lynching is still on my mind, since this criminal is black, being tried in the white state of New Hampshire.
There is no clear answer in the Bible, though for Christians, the example of the life of Jesus certainly points toward punishments that do not result in death. His way was one of nonviolence.
In John 8:3-11, Jesus intervenes in the case of a woman about to be stoned to death for adultery, saying "Let anyone among you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her." Depending on what you believe about apostolic witness, this is pretty straightforward. But this story is not attested by any other gospel, nor does it appear in the earliest manuscripts of the Book of John. Is it truly the teaching of God? No matter how much I like it, I find it a slim support for not casting stones.
In Romans 13: 1-5, the Apostle Paul writes of the importance of submitting to the authority of government. But this is the teaching of someone who leads a community that does not govern. Paul's people are not able to choose whether government will impose death on some criminals or not. So his advice is to accept what cannot be changed. We, however, live in a world where there is some choice about what government requires, and in this case, the jury has a choice about what sentence to impose.
In Matthew 5:21-22, Jesus clearly teaches that Christians should not kill, or even be angry with others. But at the same time, in the very same chapter of Matthew, Jesus affirms the rightness of the Law of Moses, saying "Do not think that I have come to abolish the law or the prophets...Not one letter, not one stroke of a letter, will pass from the law until all is accomplished." And the Law of Moses affirms the death penalty.
Then there's the much quoted "all who take the sword will perish by the sword" in Matthew 26: 51-52. Michael Addison is one who has taken the sword, so to speak, and some would argue that Jesus calls for such a one to perish by the sword. But this is circular unless the sword is in the hand of God, for someone else must "take the sword" to kill him -- and presumably also suffer the same condemnation. I'm inclined to see this teaching as offering the lesson that violence only leads to more violence.
So that's where I end in a reflection on Christian scriptures and the death penalty. Violence only leads to more violence. If we deplore the violence that cost Officer Briggs his life, then it is only appropriate to find a way to punish without violence. We must be the change we wish to see in the world.
The jury will decide, regardless of what Scripture or other authority may say. I think it's time we gave some thought to adjusting the laws of our state to take this decision out of the hands of future juries. Let us punish without violence, I say, for those who take the sword will perish by the sword.
I think of lynchings, of course, when I think of the death penalty. And I think of the many mistakes made in the many courts where death was meted out only to be overturned when more evidence was gained. This one is not one of those. But lynching is still on my mind, since this criminal is black, being tried in the white state of New Hampshire.
There is no clear answer in the Bible, though for Christians, the example of the life of Jesus certainly points toward punishments that do not result in death. His way was one of nonviolence.
In John 8:3-11, Jesus intervenes in the case of a woman about to be stoned to death for adultery, saying "Let anyone among you who is without sin be the first to throw a stone at her." Depending on what you believe about apostolic witness, this is pretty straightforward. But this story is not attested by any other gospel, nor does it appear in the earliest manuscripts of the Book of John. Is it truly the teaching of God? No matter how much I like it, I find it a slim support for not casting stones.
In Romans 13: 1-5, the Apostle Paul writes of the importance of submitting to the authority of government. But this is the teaching of someone who leads a community that does not govern. Paul's people are not able to choose whether government will impose death on some criminals or not. So his advice is to accept what cannot be changed. We, however, live in a world where there is some choice about what government requires, and in this case, the jury has a choice about what sentence to impose.
In Matthew 5:21-22, Jesus clearly teaches that Christians should not kill, or even be angry with others. But at the same time, in the very same chapter of Matthew, Jesus affirms the rightness of the Law of Moses, saying "Do not think that I have come to abolish the law or the prophets...Not one letter, not one stroke of a letter, will pass from the law until all is accomplished." And the Law of Moses affirms the death penalty.
Then there's the much quoted "all who take the sword will perish by the sword" in Matthew 26: 51-52. Michael Addison is one who has taken the sword, so to speak, and some would argue that Jesus calls for such a one to perish by the sword. But this is circular unless the sword is in the hand of God, for someone else must "take the sword" to kill him -- and presumably also suffer the same condemnation. I'm inclined to see this teaching as offering the lesson that violence only leads to more violence.
So that's where I end in a reflection on Christian scriptures and the death penalty. Violence only leads to more violence. If we deplore the violence that cost Officer Briggs his life, then it is only appropriate to find a way to punish without violence. We must be the change we wish to see in the world.
The jury will decide, regardless of what Scripture or other authority may say. I think it's time we gave some thought to adjusting the laws of our state to take this decision out of the hands of future juries. Let us punish without violence, I say, for those who take the sword will perish by the sword.
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Thanks
The news is that there is a radio station that is already into Christmas music, the idea being that people need a lift from all the woeful tidings of the season. Excuse me, but what happened to Thanksgiving?
I get a lift from giving thanks, especially when times are hard. Gratitude is, in fact, one of the big spiritual practices of the world's religions. Give thanks, they say. Giving thanks is important, they say. It's important because it is uplifting. People need a lift from all the woeful tidings of the season, so let us undertake the spiritual practice of giving thanks.
Imagine all the years when harvests were thin, and survival through the winter was a dicey prospect. What did our foreparents do? They worried, of course, but also they gave thanks. And why not? The world is full of many wonders. Life is amazing. Every day I wake up, it's time to give thanks. And throughout the day there are many moments to be grateful. Grateful for the smile of the waitress at the coffee shop. Grateful for the greeting of my co-worker. Grateful for the opportunity to make what I can of another day. Letting gratitude run through my day, pretty soon I realize I am in love with life, indeed, that I am happy, that I am in awe of nature and human invention, and so much more. And yes, my 401(k) is toast.
There are so many bad things that happen, things for which gratitude is really not the appropriate response. But then, through the rage and disappointment, beyond the tears, it turns out there is something, not the central event, but something around the edges, there is something for which to be thankful. Those little crumbs of gratitude from around big awful events are important. They make a trail that can lead us from bitterness to forgiveness, from despair to renewed hope, a trail of crumbs through the dark places that can take us back out again.
So let us not go quite yet to the forgettable and commercial uplift of Christmas songs on the radio. Let's take time for Thanksgiving first, and tune up our spiritual practice of gratitude. It's something within ourselves that will deliver the goods as we face these hard times. And it's good to start with giving thanks.
I get a lift from giving thanks, especially when times are hard. Gratitude is, in fact, one of the big spiritual practices of the world's religions. Give thanks, they say. Giving thanks is important, they say. It's important because it is uplifting. People need a lift from all the woeful tidings of the season, so let us undertake the spiritual practice of giving thanks.
Imagine all the years when harvests were thin, and survival through the winter was a dicey prospect. What did our foreparents do? They worried, of course, but also they gave thanks. And why not? The world is full of many wonders. Life is amazing. Every day I wake up, it's time to give thanks. And throughout the day there are many moments to be grateful. Grateful for the smile of the waitress at the coffee shop. Grateful for the greeting of my co-worker. Grateful for the opportunity to make what I can of another day. Letting gratitude run through my day, pretty soon I realize I am in love with life, indeed, that I am happy, that I am in awe of nature and human invention, and so much more. And yes, my 401(k) is toast.
There are so many bad things that happen, things for which gratitude is really not the appropriate response. But then, through the rage and disappointment, beyond the tears, it turns out there is something, not the central event, but something around the edges, there is something for which to be thankful. Those little crumbs of gratitude from around big awful events are important. They make a trail that can lead us from bitterness to forgiveness, from despair to renewed hope, a trail of crumbs through the dark places that can take us back out again.
So let us not go quite yet to the forgettable and commercial uplift of Christmas songs on the radio. Let's take time for Thanksgiving first, and tune up our spiritual practice of gratitude. It's something within ourselves that will deliver the goods as we face these hard times. And it's good to start with giving thanks.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
