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Waiting

16 Oct

Waiting

How much our lives do we spend just waiting? On the highway, in a traffic jam; waiting to see the doctor or for a report on our latest examination; waiting to be picked up or for a bus or taxi to take us where we want to go; standing in line to check out our groceries or to buy our stamps in the post office; fidgeting until we are served in a restaurant—everyone can add to this list.

Most often, we simply consider waiting to be down time, time that is wasted when we could be doing something more useful or more enjoyable. The other day, after what seemed to be an interminable time of waiting, I asked myself whether I could offer a more useful view.

Several conclusions came to mind—I call them a “reflective approach to waiting” or even a “spirituality of waiting.”

First of all, waiting reveals to me that my life is a network of dependencies. I am not fully in control of my life, because I am a dependent person—on other drivers on the highway, on the doctor, on the bus driver and the grocery clerk and the waitstaff. I’m not the self-reliant “Marlboro Man.” I live in relationships, and I’m dependent on a network of other people. 

Waiting tells me that my life is not a static thing, but rather a dynamic process. I am on a journey to someplace else, to a new situation. Every waiting is a transition. As a buffer between our past and our future, waiting is actually a blessing—even though we may not recognize this in the moment. But at those times when change comes instantaneously, without a buffer space, we are often traumatized by the sudden transition.

In the waiting period, we can sort out the possibilities,  both the positive and the negative, and imagine our alternative futures.

In other words, there is a lot more to waiting than “down time.” In fact, an entire world of meaning is embedded there—and that is my spirituality of waiting.

(c) Phil Hefner     16 October 

Do Lives Matter?

9 Aug

Do Lives Matter?

(Inspired by a poem by Claudia Rankine)

Claudia feels sadness because

Billions of lives never mattered.

CHORUS:

We all want our lives to matter,

think they should matter,

believe they do matter—for someone.

 

Columnists write about the people’s 

lives that matter.

Irv Kupcinet said to the cab driver,

“Instead of a fare, 

I’ll put your name in my column—

you matter.”

The cabbie said, 

“I’d rather you pay the fare.”

CHORUS:

My life already matters—

 

Blacks marched to upscale

North Michigan Avenue, 

announcing “Black Lives Matter.”

Some Whites responded, “White Lives Matter”—

meaning, “Our lives mean more than yours.”

Other Whites asked, “Why don’t they

stay in their own part of town and march and shout?”

CHORUS:

We all want our lives to matter, think they do matter.

 

Her mother’s funeral was this morning.

Afterwards, she said that her mother was

her closest friend.  Now her life is 

a blur of mourning.

CHORUS:

Her mother’s life mattered.

 

Workers are not people,

they are a business expense.

Obviously, that expense should be

kept to the minimum.

CHORUS:

Workers’ lives don’t matter.

 

Sobornost—a Russian Christian’s way of saying,

“God never forgets anyone—even the sparrows.

CHORUS:

In God’s never-forgetting,

billions of lives do matter.”

(c) Phil Hefner    8/9/2019

 

Cotton—also as Art

4 Aug

 

Chicago Museum of Contemporary Art: Virgil Abloh 

Picture the familiar “Cotton” logo: in white letters, the word “cotton” surmounted by a white cotton boll, all against a black background; with the husk of the boll outlined in black, against the white of the boll itself. 

Holding this logo in your mind, recall that the cotton was picked by black slaves and sharecroppers—for profits enjoyed by white owners.

Now note that the Cotton logo is the property of Cotton Incorporated, which in turn was established by The Cotton Research and Promotion Act of 1966 to conduct research and promote the use of cotton.

This logo is included as a commentary on race in the United States, by an artist who is also a fashion designer—and the son of Ghanaian immigrants.

My micro description of one display may give an idea of the richness and complexity of the retrospective now on exhibit at the Chicago Museum of Contemporary Art, entitled “Figures of Speech.” The artist, Virgil Abloh, is 38 years old, with a biography that is as breathtaking as his art. Graduating from the University of Wisconsin–Madison with a Bachelor of Science degree in civil engineering, going on to a  Master of Architecture at the Illinois Institute of Technology, he followed his talents into fashion design. Soon, he started his own fashion house, Off-White, headquartered in Milan, Italy, but opening its first store in Tokyo. He then partnered with IKEA to design furniture and in 2018 became head of menswear fashions for Louis Vuitton. This current exhibit includes clothing, shoes, sculpture, installations, and architectural models.

Abloh’s work cuts across media, connecting visual art, music, graphic design, fashion design, and architecture. One critic has said that Abloh brings hip-hop into fashion (think of Lin-Manuel Miranda’s bringing hip-hop to the musical, in “Hamilton”). To get your mind around this artist, it helps to keep in mind that he begins with streetwear and turns it into fashion; and that his work—much of which focuses on race and racism—is intentionally subversive. 

A final example of Abloh’s art—a black hand sneaking up behind a white figure, giving the “peace” symbol. All of this beneath a neon sign that reads “You’re obviously in the wrong place.”

 

 

Cotton at Museum of Contemporary Art

inspired by the current exhibit

White on Black

Black on White

Cotton boll soft and white 

against the calloused black hands

that picked it

black hands and aching black backs

within the white world

that lived off black backs

Cotton Incorporated

a world perpetuated

still white

I feel most black when I am 

against a white background

I feel most white when I am 

against  a black background

(c) Phil Hefner, 4 August 2019,  with respects to Zora Neale Hurston

It isn’t supposed to be this way

29 Jul

Danny Glover speaks this line in the 1991 movie, “Grand Canyon.” Glover is a tow truck driver, who has driven into the heart of a Los Angeles black ghetto, where Kevin Kline’s car has broken down. A group of gang bangers arrives at the same time and threatens Kline. Glover challenges the gang leader, insisting that the gang back off and allow him to tow Kline to the garage. The gang leader protests and in the course of the exchange, Glover looks squarely at the gang leader and says, “It isn’t supposed to be this way. We’re supposed to be able to go about our business.”

Why have these words have remained with me all these years? Because they carry a powerful message of confidence and hopefulness. Confidence, because Glover was saying, “this city we live in, at this very moment, is grounded in possibilities of peace—rapacious violence is not our destiny.” As a longtime Chicagoan, and a Southsider at that, with the issues of violence, poverty, and injustice that face all cities, Glover challenged me to see the city as God’s creation and, as such, founded in an intention of goodness. “God looked upon creation and said ‘it is good’.”

There is also a message of hopefulness—that the gang and the whites who have oppressed them can actually fulfill their created goodness.  As I look out over the south side of Chicago from my ninth floor apartment, I am challenged to say for myself, this city, created in the image of God, can fulfill its creator’s intention.

Danny Glover is making a statement of faith—in the face of empirical evidence contrary to his belief. So am I. 

Our world is indeed full of evil—unspeakably so. But it is not destined to Hell and damnation. Its destiny is goodness. There is no situation anywhere that is beyond the reach of love, including God’s love.

“It isn’t supposed to be this way”—a belief that is deeply rooted in human life and human history. Traditions of apocalyptic cry out, “It isn’t supposed to be this way.” When the cosmic monster of the New Testament’s Book of Revelation is slain, the message of hope is at work. 

Traditions of eternal life focus on God’s will to  transform the world. We also read in the New Testament “In accordance with the promise, we wait for new heavens and new earth or righteousness is at home.” (2 Peter 3:13).

Both of these traditions—the apocalyptic and the yearning for eternity—consider the miseries of living in this world to be temporary, provisional. They do not represent the “really real.” Things are not supposed to be like this.

How are we to live our lives in this “between the times,” when things are not the way they are supposed to be? In the movie, Danny Glover negotiated with the gang leader for safe passage for Kevin Kline. Judaism teaches “tikkun olam”—work however we can to repair the broken world in which we find ourselves.

Franklin Clark Fry, who was presiding bishop of our church during the 1960s, my theologically formative years, said:

“All that we Christians are called upon to do, all we can do, is to be an open watercourse for the divine love. We do not create any part of it; it would be an arrogant illusion to think that we did. We must not blockade it; if we did, we would be the adversaries, not the children, of God. We are simply to reflect it, back to God and out to God’s world. Our calling is to give it free flow.“

(c) Phil Hefner,  28 July 2019

Preferential Option for the Poor—Part III

19 Jul

My blog posting on poverty engendered two responses that reframed the issue, particularly redefining the term “poverty.” I conclude the discussion with excerpts from these responses. Each response was much longer than what appears here—I have edited their material substantially, I hope, without distorting their intention.

From Stewart Herman—theological ethicist, college professor, retired. herman@cord.edu

I’ve never been smitten by the idea of a ‘preferential option for the poor’, no doubt mostly out of moral insensitivity, but partly out of confusion.  How to define poverty? I think of poverty dynamically in terms of inaccessibility—the inaccessibility of resources.   That is, I am poor when I am unable to acquire and use what makes for a healthy, materially comfortable life.   This line of thinking gets me to two terms that struck me from Kurt Hendel’s prophetic reflection: oppression and hoarding.  These are actions that make resources inaccessible.   So poverty is not only relative but relational.  It is relative in that what counts as being poor in one setting may not in another.  I have seen many contexts where people without much in the way of material possessions still seemed to have fulfilling lives.  But poverty is also relational in that it exists where people are prevented from, or simply not enabled, to secure the resources needed for a decent human life.   Call this a dynamic definition of poverty—pointing to the dynamics involved.

From Mark Hoelter—retired Unitarian-Universalist minister and therapist. mhoelter528@gmail.com

We do better to speak of “people who are experiencing poverty” or “people who are poor” rather than categorically of “the poor.” In the USA the largest number of people who are experiencing poverty are people of color. So I submit that we do well to use “Black Lives Matter” as a current translation to “preferential option for the poor.” It is what that movement has been about.

Engaging people around the issues of fairness using John Rawls’s thought experiment is another avenue, noting that Rawls at one time contemplated becoming an Episcopal priest, so there is some Christian moral thinking in the background. To simplify his exercise: Imagine you are not yet born; you are about to be born into a world with societies and disparities much like our own. You do not know into which country you will be born, with what color of skin, with what degree of family wealth or poverty and social support, as what gender or sexual orientation. Assume that you will not be born as you find yourself now; you could be born into wealth and privilege, but by statistical reckoning you well might be born into poverty; you could be born to white parents and a white family, but you might well be born as a child of color. You do not know into what religious milieu you will be born either; maybe it will be Christian or Jewish, but maybe it will be Muslim or “None” or Buddhist or Hindu. Given all this, what laws and structures would you want to be guiding the society (and world), to give yourself and everyone fair opportunities and protections?

We know all too, that awareness and enlightenment do not lead automatically or easily to actual change. There is in fact the phenomenon the social scientists, Robert Kegan and Lisa Lahey, call “immunity to change.” It happens at the family level, as family therapists well know (see the works of Murray Bowen and Edward Friedman); it happens at the corporate and society level (see the works, of Peter Senge and his group). Both the divine and the demonic, god and the devil, are in the details. To go back to Christian texts, Jesus’s use of what was probably a popular aphorism in his day still fits: “Be innocent as doves and wise as serpents,” where “wise as serpents” means equipping ourselves with as much social-scientific knowledge and community organizing savvy as we can for effective social transformation.

Preferential Option for the Poor— Part II

27 Jun

 

Last month, I reflected on the millennia-long persistence of poverty. I asked for responses, and three profound reflections arrived—I am including them here as they came to me.

Kurt Hendel reflects from his position as a Church historian and a Christian theologian. He sees the poverty’s roots, not first of all in economic systems or politics, but rather. in our sin and self-centeredness. Here is his statement:

“Other than the ecological crisis, which, of course, also affects the poor in the most direct and detrimental ways, I consider poverty and hunger (the two are, of course, intimately related) to be the most tragic realities that have affected humanity persistently throughout recorded history. While the church and other agencies have often responded to the needs of the poor, our Christian tradition has also idealized poverty in the past, and the poor were considered to be necessities so that those with economic means could do good works that were meritorious in God’s sight. Thus the rich ultimately benefited from the existence of the poor, not only economically but also spiritually. Scripture surely gives us a different understanding of the poor and of poverty, especially as the Bible highlights the radical generosity of God.

“It seems to me that the persistence of poverty and the suffering of the poor, which is so intimately and directly related to our human tendency to be incurvatus in se (curved in upon ourselves, hubris), is ultimately a striking indicator of the reality and power of sin. Of course, that human reality does not excuse us human beings, especially people of faith, from our inclination to continue the patterns of oppression, hording, and inequality that those of us in power and with economic means have fostered. Jesus is not only the ultimate example for Christians of what it means to have true empathy for and to walk with the poor. He is also God’s radical good news that we have been rescued from the power of sin and are, therefore, free to serve God and God’s people. That promise provides us with hope that we can change our patterns of behavior and manifest our faith in love. After all, we also have the promise that the Holy Spirit is present within and among us because of Christ’s redemptive work and the divine gift of faith, and, as Luther reminds us persistently, the Holy Spirit and faith do it all! So, hope for change persists.”

Esther Shir brings a Jewish perspective to bear on the issue of poverty, as well as her work with asylum seekers. Justice is a central value. She writes:

“Oh my! What a timely and very prophetic blog you’ve written this time around!!! As you may know, here in New Mexico and in Albuquerque in particular, assistance for asylum seekers is the top agenda for the synagogues and most of the churches with which I’m familiar.  Our Sisterhood has been focusing all year on projects and… programs to get congregants more involved and informed about the plight of the migrants, especially in our own state.  The quotes you have stated already are a powerful indictment and an equally powerful call to action (along with all the other commandments about treating the stranger in your midst fairly, and leaving the corners of the field for the poor).  But the  phrases that have been running through my head since January of 2017 from Deuteronomy 16: “Justice, justice shall you pursue” and Micah 6: “and what does Adonai require of you? Do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with your God.”  And in Hebrew the word tzedakah which is usually translated as charity also means justice.  It has felt to me like justice in the sense of our legal system and in the sense of doing the right thing has been lost and almost forgotten in the past couple of years.  By corrupting our legal system, ignoring the rule of law, and the disregarding any sense at all for “the common good”,  the basic ethos of the nation is being destroyed!  For me, the only reason our nation is exceptional are these basic values (however imperfectly they are applied): equal justice, compassion for the stranger, etc and, of course, “Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free.”  Without justice, there is no hope for the poor among us (or anyone else).”

Nancy Goede, pastor of Augustana Lutheran Church in Chicago, brings in a perspective from spirituality and a way of living that identifies with the poor.

“My greatest concern is that we as Lutherans don’t hear much about how we benefit spiritually from resisting affluence. I always did like that term “affluenza,” which implies that affluence can lead to spiritual sickness. If sickness seems too harsh, maybe spiritually flabby would be fitting. Affluence is a temptation that can draw us away from self-sacrificing concern for the poor. If we truly can live in the middle with enough, then we are in a much better position to really befriend poor people. I very much admire some members of Augustana for living lives that exemplify their Christian values of community, solidarity and witness.”

All of these statements bring religious insight to bear upon poverty and the poor. They wish for the end of poverty and work toward that goal, to be sure, but insist that the rest of us, who do not live in poverty, must undergo change. This change  require a transformation of our spirituality, our moral outlook, and our behavior. 

Nancy Goede speaks of “community, solidarity, and witness”—what does that mean for us? If you have further thinking about these matters, please write.

Phil Hefner—June 26, 2019

When does the war end?

27 May

This Memorial Day poem honors a cousin and thereby all who served.

When does the war end?

 Remembering a cousin

Short and stocky,

He bounced when he walked. 

Forearms as big as Dempsey‘s,

Whose twelve inch punch 

Could crush a man’s skull.

 

“You ought to be a boxer,”

His uncles urged.

 

Guadalcanal in November 

Nineteen forty-two

Changed things. 

 

The bow of his ship,

The New Orleans,

Blown apart in the Battle of

Tessofaronga—sweet-sounding

Name of the burial waters 

Where hundreds of boys—

Navy men—lie sleeping.

 

A miracle, the doctors 

Told him. “Your life’s been

Spared.” The shrapnel that

Crashed into his eye

Never reached his brain.

But it left a hole.

 

That wasn’t the end of Leo’s war.

He never sailed a battle cruiser

Again, but his war

Went on and on.

 

On Armistice Day, back home, 

Parades celebrated on Colfax Avenue

And on every Main Street in America.

Mayors and senators and the President

And generals and admirals declared

“Peace is here, War is over.”

We cheered and waved our hands

Holding American flags.

Leo’s war continued.

He fought the ghosts that haunted

His days and nights. Searched for

Love he never found.

At the end, runaway cancer cells

Found him.

With ninety proof meds

His daily portion,

He fought for fifty years.

His war never ended.

He stopped fighting.

(c) Phil Hefner   5/27/2019