Hmmmm.... well, I do have relatives there!

You're Washington!

Though you were named after some ancient and revered relative, you've
taken off on your own course and are making a new name for yourself. Water dominates
your life, surrounding you on many sides and usually from above. Though you say you
love rain, it's really that you've forgotten that there are other types of weather to
hold an opinion on. You have an amazingly eclectic interest in walls, spokes, yaks,
seats, and even the Olympics. It'll all come out in the wash.


Take the State Quiz
at the Blue Pyramid.

Thanks to Sean for the tip on this quiz!

Passing for Middle Class

Just in time for Labor Day...

It’s taken me a long time to think through my response to the recent article Not My Father's Religion by Doug Muder in the UU World. I needed time to think, and time to work through my reflexive angry responses to many of the assumptions presented. At this point my responses are three fold, and interconnected: “class” categories are unclear, “success” is a moving target, and yes – we can offer a message about life to anyone ready to hear it.

I want to thank Doug for doing his own hard work thinking all of this through. He's certainly encouraged my own spiritual growth in getting me to think about these issues. We share a similar background, which will become clear if you continue reading, but with dissimilar experiences. I suspect this is because I do not live and worship in a suburb of Boston with a lot of UUs with advanced degrees. I'm not sure, but I do wonder if we look at UU churches outside major cities, would there be significant differences?

I. “Unitarian Universalism has a class problem.”

A minister I respect very much once made an offhand comment about “passing for middle class.” I had one of those “a-ha!” moments right there, because he had articulated my own gut feeling. Despite living in a comfortable suburb, I still feel like I’m passing for middle class. I grew up solidly blue-collar with both parents working in factories. Dad worked for an auto manufacturer, Mom boxed pet food. Dad’s was a union job, Mom’s wasn’t. That mattered then. I still have trouble crossing a picket line - when the grocery store clerks went on strike a few years ago I was buying milk at the gas station...

The thing is – I’m not so sure what defines class anymore. It’s not income. My dh grew up middle class – his father is a retired science teacher. While I don’t know the actual numbers, I’m pretty sure their household income was fairly comparable to my parents’.

Is it education? At one time I would have said yes. However, if one still believes that an undergraduate degree is a ticket to middle class success these days, one should take off one’s rose-colored glasses. With my B.A., and past work experience, I was able to get clerical jobs. I might have been better off clerking at the grocery store, with union wages, protection and benefits.

I guess what really bothers me most about this discussion of class is the jump from working class to professional class – without considering all of us who fall in between. How do we consider the computer professionals? Are they “skilled laborers” in this schema? What about educators, social workers, dental hygienists, speech pathologists, computer professionals, etc.? Many of these folks have advanced degrees. They’re not members of “the learned professions,” i.e., doctors, lawyers, professors (or ministers) – but, you know what? Those professions ain’t what they used to be, either.

I wonder if these dividing lines are both more fluid and more rigid than once believed. More fluid, because (for example) yesterday’s highly sought-after master’s-level computer professional scrambles today for decent jobs in an industry that has fully embraced the practices of hiring local contract workers and off-shore outsourcing. More rigid, because the standards to become professionals are higher than ever – and the education required to get there more expensive. On the other hand, my thinking on this could be a result of my own social location. There are other "isms" that factor into classism - racism, sexism, ageism - and I haven't considered those here.

II.

…now what, what, (I don’t know, can you tell me what)
what is success?
is it do your own thing?
or to join the rest
and if you truly believe it,
and try over and over again
living in hopes
that someday you'll be in with the winners

oooh, tell me what it is
sweet success…

- chorus from What is Success? By Allen Toussaint
(as recorded by Bonnie Raitt)

“The road to success for the working class is self control.” – I actually found this statement somewhat insulting. From where I sit, this is true for everyone, not just the “working class.”

I question the given definition of success in the working and middle class. Muder defines “working class life” as “not following your bliss… The way out of the maze, and the way to get your kids out of the maze, is to get up every day and do something you’d rather not do.” The assumption here is that success equals having one's children do better, and that one doesn't enjoy one's work.

For some this is true. My father would have preferred farming to factory work. Working in a factory with a strong union offered a steady income and good insurance benefits, even in retirement. But getting up and doing something you’d rather not do is not just something “working class” folks do. One computer professional I know left a major corporation to work for a smaller firm where he could work in the area he wanted. He returned to the major corporation, with its dehumanizing corporate culture, less than a year later because the smaller firm went bankrupt. As he said of his return: “At least the checks don’t bounce.”

On the other hand, my brother has – in a working class career – done exactly what he wanted to do. One can look at his life and not think “success” because there is little financial security, no retirement savings, and not great benefits. But again, by his lights he’s a success because he’s lived as he wanted.

I’m troubled by the bleak picture of working class life depicted in the article by what Doug doesn’t say. He does say what professionals in retirement do – they continue to “dabble.” He offers no illustration of what a working/middle class person, or couple, might do. What I've observed is that whatever one does during one’s pre-retirement life, most still want to be active and useful.

They might travel.
They might volunteer. Lots of working/middle class people volunteer, giving back to their communities and staying active doing for others. Every church I've been in has had a company of retired volunteers that keeps everything going.

And, many working/middle class folks take part-time jobs in retirement. Some of the stuff people do for money is important to them, and they do return to it. The job isn’t just a paycheck – the greeter at Wal-Mart may have retired from a similar job, and may still want the contact with others that s/he enjoyed at work. The supplement to his/her pension/Social Security benefit doesn’t hurt, either.

III. Finally, I challenge the assumption that only the professional class faces the spiritual challenge of inspiration. Would my Dad have been comfortable in my Unitarian Universalist congregation? No, he wouldn’t have – but not because of the theology. He didn’t want, or need, a preacher telling him to exercise self-control and do the hard thing. Life had already taught him that lesson. He needed a reason to hope for something better in this life.

I know the harsh theology to fit a harsh world does not work for all working/middle class folks. My father had an abiding distrust for organized religion, believing that most were just out to separate an honest working man from his hard-earned money. He would have thought the same of my church, too. But he came from a long line of folks who embraced some interesting theologies. His grandmother was a Quaker, believing that the Light of God shone in all of us. If that’s not inspiring, what is? Listening for the still, small voice of the Spirit within must have taught subtle discernment, as well as the discipline to follow the Spirit’s call. I’m a Unitarian Universalist, not a Quaker, but this resonates in my soul – and seems not at all harsh.

It’s my conviction that it’s precisely in our message that there are alternatives, there are different ways to think about what is good and right, that our strength lies. This doesn’t mean to abandon values and self-control for folly and whimsy. Or, as one youth advisor I knew said, "It doesn't mean we can just believe and do whatever we want." I do agree with Doug Muder that this does mean doing some hard theological thinking, though I'm not at all sure we can find one "truth that encompasses all situations." But, I do think we can find truths and that we are up to the task. We can offer a message of hope, just as our Universalist forebears did, that there isn’t just “one chance.” And that’s a message that I think we all – class be damned – need today.

Magical Meanderings of My Mind on Monday

“Do you believe in magic?”

Do you remember this song by the Lovin’ Spoonful, all about music and young love?

The song makes me think of my daughter, preparing for her move into her first real apartment. This past weekend she moved around our house, packing dishes, making lists, running errands to get copies of keys, and asking us about renter’s insurance, with a constant soundtrack playing – all the music she has stored on her laptop and her mp3 player.

I believe in the magic of [this] young girl’s soul. It’s amazing how she’s matured in the past year – her first year in college with the roommates from hell has tempered her, firmed her resolve to share a place with her good friends. They have had the serious discussions about who pays for what, and how they will divide cleaning chores and grocery bills. They are walking into this new situation eyes open and minds in harmony. I know it won’t be perfect – they will disagree, they may fight, there may be problems if any of them acquires a significant other.

But, this I know: these three young people love and care for each other. If they can remember their deep and abiding friendship, they’ll make it work.

This past Sunday I worshipped at a neighboring church and one of the questions the minister asked was: “Do you believe in magic?”

It was a Harry Potter-themed sermon, exploring a few main themes in the books that particularly resonate with Unitarian Universalists.

Her sermon-ending point was that the very human magic of love gets us through, over, and around a lot of crises in life. Afterward, I mentioned that part of the sermon prompted me to recall a line from Robert Fulghum, who wrote a classic essay about his personal credo. The last line of the credo is “and I believe love is stronger than death.”

I often wondered about that line after reading it. Was Fulghum obliquely referring to the central Christian story of Jesus defeating death? Or was he trying to make some other point? It’s certainly a point that Rowling revisits in the Harry Potter epic – especially with regard to Lily Potter’s love for her infant son, protecting young Harry from the Dark Lord’s death curse.

I’ve recited Fulghum’s bit about love and death often to my children since my father – their grandfather – died a decade ago. They, and I, both seemed to need the reassurance. But, while I do believe that my father’s love for us lives on in some real ways, I know this love has no magical powers – it offers no protection from any sort of evil. He loved us, his love lives on in the way we act, the way we think, the way we love each other now – this is his legacy.

Some of my liberal Christian (and Unitarian) friends would say the same of Jesus – that the resurrection was really in the apostles’ refusal to let his message and work die with him.


Another take on magic is Dar Williams’ song lyric from The Christians and the Pagans: You find magic from your god and we find magic everywhere.

It’s magic to see my children grown and making choices – even poor ones – and forging lives for themselves. It’s magic to look at the man I share a life with, and know that all we’ve been through together has made us closer and stronger. It’s magic that the plants we put in the garden this spring and not tended are producing good things to eat, more than we can consume. It’s magic to visit the site of a volcano eruption, and see how humans and nature have worked together to restore the landscape. It’s magic to go on an early morning walk and encounter a coyote, who trots across my suburban street barely glancing at me as s/he hurries along, and remember that this planet is home to so many forms of life.

That's where my mind is on this rainy Monday morning.

May you find magic, everywhere...

Mulling over a quiz...

OK - most of the quizzes on the internet are just plain fun. You know: "What Muppet Am I?" or "Which Harry Potter Character Are You?" Or, even, god help us, "What's your Stripper Name?" **

These, while offering a disclaimer that no personality test is 100% accurate, claim to assist one in understanding one's personality type. I suppose they do, but I think these "quick-and-dirty" versions of longer validated instruments are still mostly for entertainment.

The MBTI short version gives a different result for me than the previous 3 or 4 long ones did (though the last one showed a couple of the scales were shifting for me).

**(Scooter, Hermione, and Sparky Temperance)

Picky About Words, crabbing again...

My occasional alter-ego, Ms. P.A.W., has a news flash for us...

"A tenant is not a tenet, though a tenant may have tenets."

A tenant is one who rents a home, or land, or something else from someone.

A tenet is a principle one holds as true or a standard to measure by.

For example, the UU Principles are tenets, not tenants.

It used to be I'd only see these two words confused in books for the general public. Now, I'm seeing it in texts for seminary. (Well, some of those are for the general public, too.) I blame "spell-check."

Faeries in Disguise?

Yesterday I went for my morning walk along my usual route.

Along the way, I spotted a small butterfly among some flowers. This was an unusual butterfly, as one of its wings was torn. Actually it looked as if the top tip of its right wing had been broken - or chewed - off. The butterfly was still able to fly enough to go from flower to flower, close to the ground, though I doubt it could have flown very high or very far. It inspired the following...

Butterfly with a torn wing
flutters from flower to flower
along my walking path

So vulnerable, limping,
close to the ground

It calls to mind a wounded faerie
(in disguise, of course)
seeking nectar and healing

I wonder what battle it survived?

Child with a torn self-image
shuffles through the school hallway,
avoiding direct contact with the “preps”

Tough façade, vulnerable –
a scowl and hair over the eyes
obscure her/his beauty

Adolescence is a battle,
but like the butterfly
the child limps through

drawing sustenance from those
who see the masks s/he wears
for what they are: protective coloration.

Let us hope that someday,
the masks will fall, and
the faerie in disguise will emerge.

It's Been a Quiet Week (not)...

Well, actually it has been a quiet week - or I've been quiet for over a week. During my last week of CPE the DH and R went on a trip to New Orleans with 40 other UU youth and adults. They spent 3 days getting filthy by gutting two buildings (3 residences) in the lower 9th ward down to the studs, in preparation for possible rebuilding. Another day they worked at the church where they slept, and participated in a protest. They had culture shock when they returned.

I've been trying to work on a sermon for this coming Sunday. The bright idea I thought was so great when I sent the title and blurb to the worship committee has become "what the &*## did I mean by that???"

My former dialog partner, Meg, has a great entry on her blog entitled: Why Being a Pastor Sucks. Meg's been a summer minister, and gets a few things off her chest about how awful - and awe-filled - ministry is.

So, in an attempt to clear out some of my own emotional detritus, I wrote about my last week of CPE, which I offer for your edification below. (That's the Earthbound Spirit, leading a service of remembrance in the clinic for the staff)

All in a week’s work…

My last week at the hospital I had a very busy ministry...

One patient’s cancer metastasized – I listened, provided a rosary and referral to the Eucharistic minister, and prayed with the patient.

Checked in with a patient’s family in the hospice suite one day – and met the gurney carrying the patient’s body the next morning.

An older patient with a history of breast cancer, now in the bones – We had a long chat about making treatment decisions – take it one step at a time was the conclusion. We prayed then, too.

I ran interference for nurses with the spouse of a surgery patient who didn’t understand that “nothing by mouth” is a medical order. Spouse didn’t like me much better than the nurses…

Three more referrals in one staff meeting – all patients with new cancer diagnoses. Word had gotten around in the past few months that I was “good with cancer cases.”

The cancer clinic regulars had different reactions to my leaving: one man shook my hand, winked at me, and told me to “give ‘em hell;” one woman gave me a hug and thanked me for "just" listening. The senior nurse said, “You’ll be back. You won’t be able to stay away.” (She might be right. I've learned to trust some nurse's instincts.)

A man I’d seen once in the clinic was admitted. Younger than I by a decade, with young children, this is not his first round with cancer, or his second. He spoke of anger, sadness, and his feelings of isolation. I noticed a bright, fresh sunflower on his table. He said his little girl, the one named for him, had brought it for him. I looked at the sunflower and asked him if he could find hope anywhere in his life right now. One tear, then another dampened his cheek as he said, “in my children.”

I went back to the chaplains’ office, and cried myself.

The ads used to say, “the Peace Corps is the hardest job you’ll ever love.”
Don’t believe it.

Because all the cool kids are doing it...

Earthbound Spirit as a resident of Springfield.

Wait... Does the Kwikee Mart sell tofu dogs?