The Quest for the Government You Deserve Is Never Easy or Over

by Rev. James Briney

Lou Waters sent me an email the morning of November 6th, 2020, a half hour before he was to be interviewed about our Presidential election on a news radio program in Majorca. They picked the right guy.  Early in his career as a Tucson television newsman, then as a founding anchor for a start-up cable news network the world came to know as CNN, Lou covered major political conventions and reported on significant global events. In anticipation of doing the interview with a broadcaster in Spain, Lou wrote to me about the election that: “It still feels like we’re all still waiting for the divorce court to decide who gets custody of us.”  

Since the interview with Lou, a decisive and growing majority of voters determined who will become the next head of our large and diverse American family.  My diverse family includes my daughter, Jen who is a family nurse practitioner in Colorado. She was thirteen when I married her mother who had been a single parent. My son, Juan is a carpenter in northern Michigan. He was born in a tomato field in Mexico. Through a lengthy adoption process, postponed by the events of 9-11, he became a member of our family as a young adult. On three occasions I have baptized one or more of his children.  One Godparent is Vietnamese.  Another is gay.

My family includes Mexicans, Africans, Japanese, and people of Native American and Jewish ancestry.  My great aunt and uncle worked with Gandhi to build a hospital and a school while serving as missionaries in India for twenty-five years. In their retirement I lived with them from age four to five as they made do on a twenty-two dollar a month pension. My family represents a variety of religious views and includes a non-believer. In common with the United States of America, my family is comprised of individuals along the spectrum of identities, ages, opportunities, and predicaments.

The virus that is sickening and killing so many is keeping prudent families apart for holidays and other occasions. Yet families need not gather at a common table to engage in conversations that nourish relationships and feed souls.  We all have a frame of reference.  I am the product of divorced parents, fractured relationships and all sorts of experiences in ministry and in life that make real the possibility of reconciliation and healing. All families have the work of maintaining and repairing relationships. Our country has the work of governing and repairing alliances.  Seasons of the Church such as Lent and Advent give us pause for self-examination and to anticipate, contemplate and celebrate things that matter. 

Elections offer a kind of resurrection. So does public discourse when we evaluate sources of information that instruct our beliefs. Just as promoting herd immunity is political and medical malpractice, it is theological malpractice to sensationalize the manufactured war on Christmas, instead of addressing the real war on truth. Clergy fail their flocks, and laypersons their constituencies, when they abandon their integrity in favor of such calculated distractions. Commercializing Christmas and romanticizing Saint Valentine’s Day is the easy way out. The times call for us to do more than exchange gifts and go on a date. 

Jesus says we must love one another as he loves us.  He does not say that we have to like anyone. Even so, we are called to be one in his name. The significant rise in hate crimes is a stark reminder that we are in deep trouble and in need of bridging the political divide. Elections confront us with the necessity that our republic is worth fighting for and that our democracy is worth voting for.  Mark Twain said that war is the way we learn about geography.  Elections are the way we learn about democracy as a means to fulfill the intentions of our founders. We are not going to get there by agreeing to disagree or believing that perception is reality. 

Addressing substantive issues in a factual forthright manner is the way to distinguish reality from perception.  Every American is in jeopardy when facts don’t matter and numbers don’t count. Exaggeration is not progress.  A few thousand is not more than a million. Yet that was asserted when adoring fans of the 45th President surrounded the motorcade escorting him to play golf in the aftermath of the election. They have yet to accept the reality of a free, fair and secure election result. The policies, practices and initiatives of leaders have merit when they stand the test of time in the light of day, not because they are contrary and entertaining. It’s time to change the channel.

Democracy is vulnerable when the electorate is susceptible to insidious and nefarious appeals aimed at our emotions and backed by unlimited financing. Charles Koch says it was a colossal mistake for him to have invested in a sensationalized ideological partisan bias. A problematic thing about our form of governance is that superficial answers to deeply ingrained problems tend to perpetuate imbalance and precipitate gridlock.  Actions taken without regard for consequences are an invitation to entrenched resistance that borders on violence. The laws of physics apply to politics. For every action there is an equal and opposite reaction. 

The rejoinder to scare tactics that re-stimulate the fears of immigrants, is pointing out that the United States is not becoming a socialist nation.  We are the opposite of regimes they fled. Our capitalist economy creates jobs and incentivizes philanthropy that sustains generosity.  Grants and gifts are distributed through community foundations and privately funded initiatives. Food banks and shelters, churches and rescue missions abound. The wealth of our nation empowers the formation of alliances that contribute to a strong defense against nations that exploit their people and restrict their opportunities.  The outcome of recent elections give cause to expect the renewal of our alliances and the restoration of our reputation.

Being worthy of the privileges our country affords requires respect for those who came before. Those who made sacrifices to create our country, establish our traditions and secure our freedoms include patriots who became known as the Greatest Generation. They also became the entitlement generation that has enjoyed the fruits of their labor, pensions, Social Security, Medicare, Medicaid, personal investments, and inheritance. The promise of America is that such possibilities will become available to everyone, without anyone being denied through no fault of their own.

It seemed like a long time between the polls closing on November 3rd and when the President-elect was determined. The same goes for political campaigns. We complain they take too long. They do not. They last just long enough to enjoin significant participation, so the ideals that form the bedrock of our nation will endure.  Likewise, we criticize the careers of public servants as lasting too long, when in fact they last no longer than voters choose for them to last. 

It took every day of the recent election process for registered voters to show up and be counted in record numbers. It took the incoming 46th President of the United States a little more than half a century as an elected official to be recognized as worthy of the highest office voters confer.  He will assume the Presidency having been elected to one term on the New Castle County Council, six terms in the United States Senate, two terms as Vice President—and three runs for the Presidency.  
Lou Waters has witnessed and experienced being involved in deliberate ways that make a difference, having served with integrity as a reporter and as an elected official. Lou still chooses to be of service. Everyone is able to do what they will within their means. It all begins with noticing, caring, and doing something, instead of passing on an opportunity because it seems insignificant. The recent election indicates something about our intentions. But it will not unite us anymore than past elections made us post-racial. Becoming a more perfect union requires initiating relationships in good faith and with good intention. 

Our violent divorce from the King of England led to a harmonious partnership. Our Civil War led to a prolonged trial separation. It need not take a war, armed revolution, or an insurrection to find our way forward. History is inviting us to renew our vow of allegiance to the Constitution of the United States of America. The gospel invites us to recognize all of creation as one, by embracing every soul as our sisters and brothers.  There is no North, South, East, or West in the Kingdom of God, only the essential reality that we are one in the name of all that is holy. Nation states and political boundaries are not preeminent when it comes to figuring out what matters most.

Think about the influences you give your attention to.  Just because an activist paints a slogan on a sign that says defund the police does not mean that eliminating funding for law enforcement is ever going to happen. It means it has become imperative to fund training for interventions that de-escalate non-violent encounters. For that to happen leaders in cooperation with all concerned must make distinctions. It is up to you to elect and support such candidates.

No one is exempt when it comes to making informed decisions that do not rely on talking points that incite fear and outrage. Identifying and allocating resources to protect and defend communities is the responsibility of the individuals you elect. You will find your way along the arc of history that bends toward justice when you strive to make the best use of what you know to be true, and make use of what you have. The quest for the government you deserve is never easy, or over. 

My family manages to carry on and I trust that our country will too.  As competent individuals fill vacancies in the government and reclaim institutional memory, I believe that our country will find ways to resolve the issues that threaten our security and undermine our democracy.  As the new administration comes to power, and new Senators from the State of Georgia determine the disposition of the Senate, think about what you want for our nation and its place in the world.  As history unfolds in turmoil keep in mind that Gandhi said: “A living faith will last in the blackest storm.” 

Keeping faith is the intangible ingredient that bolsters our resolve ‘while we’re all still waiting’ to see how things turn out. Our democracy is in constant flux in terms of anticipation and outcomes. Always it is vulnerable. Living in hope in the midst of ‘the blackest storm’ is not naive when we embrace the resolve to carry on. There is reason to believe that all will be well—providing we do our part. In the fullness of time the past is ash and our future is dust. What we do in our time matters, for better or for worse. We are responsible for making America better. We are accountable for making ourselves better.

For the time being we know who has custody of us. We know how much damage a malevolent president and malicious presidency can do. The foreseeable future bodes well for good news to appear in updated reports awaited in Spain and around the world. When Lou Waters gives his next interview, I trust and pray that we will continue to care as much—and be as pleased—as the audience in Majorca. 

Performance

by Karen Richter

I love reading Slate’s advice columns. Recently, I read advice from teachers to parents at the start of the school year. The first response involved a teacher asking parents to think through their request for extra information about their child’s school experience. Specifically, the teacher said that parents often tell her, “Share with me everything always.” And of course, this is not really feasible or even beneficial for most families or most teachers. 

But it got me thinking: why would a parent even say that? Is Parent X really expecting a daily stream-of-consciousness report from their progeny’s teacher? Probably not.

Here is my suspicion: We say things that we assume others are expecting to hear, and we say things that give others a certain impression of who we are. In this specific situation, there is a special kind of anxiety for a parent when meeting with their child’s teacher. Many parents would admit that it’s important that their child’s teacher have a positive impression. We want to be “good parents,” with all the baggage of expectations that label entails. In all kinds of situations (not just parenting at the beginning of the school year), we’re prone to the same behavior: performance. We humans are always asking, “What is expected of me?” The game of managing, meeting, exceeding the expectations of others around us takes a lot of our energy. It’s exhausting, actually. To make matters worse, the more time we spend on The Performance Game the more difficult it becomes to recognize when we’re playing it.

What if we stopped?

What if our churches became places where people practiced NOT performing? A few years ago, a friend from church talked with me about a Sunday morning struggle. There are those weeks, she explained, when you and your partner are fussing and cranky with one another, the children are slow in getting ready, and the counter top is sticky. So you rush through the routine, pile in the car to get to church… and plaster a believable-enough smile on your face and pretend to be happy and normal.

And then we might wonder why our relationships seem to be shallow and why we carry around a vague sense of malaise and ennui all the time. We might wonder why our churches are so often seen as ineffective or even hypocritical.

What’s the cure for The Performance Game?

As usual, the cures are simple but not easy. Here are my top 3 Performance Anxiety Busting Superstars:

  1. friendship

Have friends and let them really see you. Friendship magic happens when we stop cleaning up before friends arrive to our home. This is also one of the greatest blessings of rough times: when it is obvious (so so obvious!) that our lives are not perfect, we can stop pretending that they are and let our real selves show up. I am writing today all the things I need to practice the most, and this is a big one. Slowly but surely, I’m starting to recognize and appreciate what Real Me sounds like and how she’s different from Performing Me.

I take comfort in the friends of Jesus… how they were continually bumbling and misunderstanding, jockeying for power and getting it 100% wrong. Yet Jesus trusted them with All. The. Things. 

2. nature

Get yourself out-of-doors! Let the lovely imperfections of creation teach you.

3. meditation

Don’t be tempted by a special edition of The Performance Game: The Spirituality Expansion box. I’m writing again to myself. The pull of performance and the desire to have others see us as ‘spiritual’ is strong in me. 

So I remind us both: Just sit and breathe. Your mind will wander and distract you with thoughts because that is what minds do. Just keep sitting and breathing. 

Prayer for Today:

Spirit of Life, You are Reality Itself. I so want to be real too. Remind me of the realness in my faith tradition: the women who sang victory, the boy who shared lunch, the friends who stayed close, the dreamers and the pray-ers and the poets. Thank you for the gifts of friendship, simplicity, creation, and breath. Amen.

When We Go Away

by Davin Franklin-Hicks

I have long thought that the strength of family and friend relationships rely solely on exchanges we all have when we are in the same space, hanging out, talking, being together.

I have come to realize, though, this is only part of sustaining connection. The other large, essential part of relationship happens when we are away from each other.

Loving relationship starts in the most tender parts of our being. Our ability to be authentic and present in relationship is quite reliant on the vulnerability we are brave enough to hold inside of ourselves. Vulnerability often calls on fear as a bodyguard. Fear is such a powerful barrier that locks us in and does nothing to help our precious selves find one another.

What we choose to think about, the offenses we sometimes pick up, the conversations we overthink, the way we perceive our own value to those we love, all determines so much of whether a relationship thrives or suffers. The stories we tell ourselves in the in-between times is what determines if love is cultivated or ruptured.

We rely on connection. We long to be with one another. That homesick ache is that very longing and has been with us from day one. It is the motivating part of our living. The plot twist, though, is that deep connection is not fortified with an “I love you” face to face. The deep, sustaining connection happens later when we are apart. It happens when I replay that “I love you” and choose to believe you meant it.

I Think You Are Lovable (Most of the Time)

by Davin Franklin-Hicks

I am a loving and caring man.
I look for the good in people.
I love it when others succeed.
I celebrate the successes of other folks.
I desperately want all people to have the best emotional, spiritual and physical life possible.
I want people to laugh.
I want people to have a sense of security in their living.
I am a pretty decent and kind guy.
Then I have to go outside.

At least a solid 85% of the time I totally dig others and am thoughtful and loving. Ok, maybe like 80% of the time. (“76% of the time”, my conscience whispers…
To which I say “No one likes a know it all, Conscience!”)

If there was technology that would map the route my brain takes when traveling from loving-kindness and compassion to baffled frustration and judgment, it would be a surprisingly quick trip.

Start at loving kindness and compassion.
Take three steps.
Step in dog poop.
You have arrived at “Everyone Is Stupid and Annoying And Dumb, Except Me”.

My deep kindness and loving ways fall apart when other actual living and breathing humans are around. I am so good at caring for all people, until people show up. People ruin my unconditional love for people.

I had a tremendous reprieve from this pattern recently. The reprieve lasted a full two weeks. The path I often take was re-routed. The route was full of wonder and love the whole way through.

The world became far more vibrant.
It all felt new and novel.
The journey was the entire focus.
I had people around me and not once did I get to that place of exasperation and harsh, judgment.
I was with people and I still operated in loving kindness and compassion.

The two weeks happened when my wife and I had the honor of hosting my youngest brother and his family.

My brother is nine years younger than me. I have called him Bear since the day he was born. I brought him in for show and tell in my fourth grade class. I have long been smitten. And remain that way still.

The trip afforded the opportunity to have my baby brother, sister-in-law and our soon-to-be three-years-old nephew in the sanctuary of our home and in our daily lives.

They met a few of the people we adore.
They watched shows with us that we love.
They ate with us, cooked with us, and lived with us.
It was the single best two weeks we have had since our living became riddled with loss and illness.

The difference that made this trip so special was rather basic, yet very powerful:

We wanted them here and they wanted to be here.
That’s the first step that led us to authentic connection.
Choice to be present. Choice to be loving. Choice for authenticity.

We removed the appearance of being perfect that we so readily hide behind in living. We ate outside whenever possible.
We enjoyed each other.
We laughed.
We played.
We shared deeply.
We even sang together, our joined voices gloriously out of key.
Nan and I rested a lot. I slept better than I had in two years.

This two week period was full of wonderful, loving moments.
Those moments, though, would not have led to the experience of love we all had. Love emerged when we chose to be open.
It beamed when we chose the risk of vulnerability.
It flourished when we chose to see each other.

Then they had to go. We said our goodbyes and my heart started to ache.

What will I do with the silence that has replaced the sounds of my sweet nephew‘s voice and movements?
What will I do with the ache that has replaced the joy of shared laughter?
What will I do with the feeling of fear that attempts to overshadow the feeling of love I joyously basked in?

That familiar route started creeping back in. The world started feeling less great. I started feeling a bit more cynical, a bit more easily frustrated, a bit less loving.

I want to live a loving life. It’s my aim, my core value. It informs so much of my everyday. I think about love a lot.

I have learned some things that I don’t always remember in times of ache. I do, though, remember it fully when I return to my practices that cultivate a loving heart. From that place I can see so much more clearly.

I tend to confuse the presence of Love with the feeling-of-love. When I confuse this, I end up in a place of pain and loneliness because states of being change.
My access to the feeling of love sometimes teeters.
My awareness of love as it relates to my worth often shifts.

Circumstances do not change the reality of love.

Love remains.
Steady.
Sturdy.
Stable.

My capacity to give love is in direct correlation with the love I am capable of cultivating within. I do not feel loving toward others if I have not created space for love.

The reality then is this: At least a solid 80% of the time I am willing to do the work within that allows me to see you and hear you and love you. The other 20% of me distorts.

I had such an easy access to Love over those two weeks that the feeling of love was constant and was easy to come by. It made the world seem alive in a way that I didn’t have access to in such a concentrated way.

Then the lens of fear arrived again. That lens distorts life. It changes what I see in the mirror. I become ugly and worthless. It changes how I see others. It changes how I see you.

The lens of loving-kindness and compassion allows me to see you far more clearly.

You are beautiful.
You are seeking.
You are adjusting.
You are healing.
You are breaking.
You are grieving.
You are aging.
You are trying.
You are fearful.
You are hopeful.
You are resting.
You are exhausted.
You are forgetting.
You are remembering.
You are being.

I can see you again.
I see your light and I see your struggle.
I can see how much we look alike.
I can see it so very clearly now.
You, my dear one, are loveable.

100% of the time.

What a trip Love turns out to be.

Rising from Ash

by Davin Franklin-Hicks

I met my nephew AJ when he was two years old. His mom was dating my younger brother and I was very excited to have a potential nephew in my life. I couldn’t have been more happy when that wish became a reality and they both joined our family.

AJ was seriously adorable. He had more energy than all my family combined. The kid was the sweetest to his mom. This ended up extending to all parts of his life and relationships. AJ was and is full of light and life.

When he was six I picked him up from an after school program to take him to karate. We were getting in the car when I heard a woman saying his name. I looked up and a woman was walking toward us with a little boy in tow, likely the same age as AJ. The little boy was wearing a helmet and had some facial disfiguration. I don’t remember this child’s name so we’ll call him Josh.

I got out of the car, uncertain of this woman’s intentions in calling out for him and approaching him.

She asked “Are you AJ?”
He nodded.
She said, “Josh has been talking about you all the time. He says when kids tease and hurt him that you tell them to stop and you are very kind to him. I want you to know how special you are. Thank you for being so sweet and kind.”

Each word filled my heart.

I asked him on the drive how he felt about what she said to him. He said “I just like Josh.” This little guy sure was amazing. Such a beacon by just being fully himself and choosing love.

AJ’s mom and my brother ended up separating and later divorced. I know divorce. I have experienced it quite a few times in my childhood. I knew how hard it would be. As everyone tried to figure how this next season of our lives would work, we lost regular time with AJ. It became the occasional holiday and outing.

When AJ was 12 we stepped up the relationship to being in his life regularly. I remember being nervous picking him up the first time after having seen very little of him in the few years prior. Quite simply, I wondered if he would still like me.

AJ initiated conversation right away, telling me a story from his life. So easy and light. It felt like we had never lost contact. And I really liked him. A lot. He was funny and thoughtful. He was and is a huge guy, but such a gentleness and openness. He’s unmatched in that area.

As the years continued we spent time as often as we could. Sometimes it was frequent, sometimes a dry spell. Regardless of the amount of time that had gone between our visits, we picked right up where we left off and there was always laughter.

The events of the past year made some conversations in my family and friend group very intense and hard. I had endured a sexual assault that massively leveled me. We had talked to all the adults close to us. I had no idea, though, how to tell AJ. I felt protective of him and did not want to hurt his heart. I did not want to burden him.

As is characteristic of this dude, he sensed something was wrong and asked me direct questions about it. I answered honestly. He took it in. He sat with it and we talked about all the other things going on as there was A LOT going on for him.

AJ was turning 18 and he was readying himself to join the Marine Corp that July 2016. We held space for honest talks and then maneuvered to humor. Good stuff. Honest stuff. Life giving stuff. And what an incredible emotional intelligence he showed throughout all of it.

The time I had with AJ between January and July was precious and sacred to me. As my focus began to turn outward to support AJ, I felt relief from the intensity of my internal world that was reeling and begging for healing. By loving AJ and showing up for him, I was healing. Love is funny that way. Loving action changes a heart and circumstance better than any New Years Resolutions ever could.

As the day approached that he was heading out to Boot Camp for the Marines, I was feeling the reality that AJ would be leaving. It never feels like the right time for those you adore to leave you. I knew releasing him was important and love lived out.

AJ sent me tons of things to prep me about what he was going to endure. He was signing up for such a hard time and yet he was facing forward. He was meeting life and saying yes. Unswerving and resolute. He was prepared and ready for what was next.

The three months he was away were actually the hardest for me since the assault. I didn’t necessarily link this to his leaving, though that worry and pain was fully there, too. The hard time just was what it was. Trauma recovery does not ebb and flow in a way that makes sense. It’s painful and overwhelming. It is also necessary to walk through that pain.

AJ endured an exhausting, all encompassing season and landed on the other side. He was officially declared a Marine on 10/14/2016. I couldn’t wait to see him!

I picked him up the very next day and noticed that nervousness rising again. Is it going to be weird at all? Is he going to still like me? He got in the car and said, “I have so much to tell you!” And he did.

Stories of how AJ had overcome, what felt triumphant, what the funny moments were, what comrades he now had filled our conversation. He held his head differently. He walked with the confidence that comes from living the life you challenged yourself to live. I got that familiar surge of pride that I had when he was six years old, reaching out and being loving.

Some other emotions rose up within me, too. Admiration.
Inspiration.
Awe.

I had been feeling shame about how hard the last three months had been, chastising myself to heal faster. I imagined AJ in the Boot Camp circumstances, pushing through, embracing the season of difficulty as a necessary one, and just meeting life with agreement and willingness. As I saw him this way, I saw myself in a new light. He was still standing and so was I.

The constant overwhelming circumstances hurts. The exhaustion hurts. The self doubt hurts. The loss of all things familiar hurts. And yet the human spirit is remarkably resilient and full of life.

This year has been a season of leveling for me, a burning down of life and a wonder if I will survive that heat and pain.

Am I forever broken?
Am I ever going to enjoy life again?
Will I ever be able to live again?
Will I ever rise again?

My nephew held up a mirror of sorts as he shared his lived experience. I started to believe the reflection of healing, living and thriving that was emanating from him and reflecting back to me. I found room in my heart to believe that it could be mine as well.

My nephew is pretty special in that he lives his life as a determined and steadfast participant, co-creating his world with the best next step being his main focus.

My nephew no longer goes by AJ. He gave that up around age 11.
My nephew’s name is Ashton.
I call him Ash.
He helps me rise.

 

A Candle Gone Out and Our Time to Shine

by Kenneth McIntosh

I awake this morning feeling sad. Not because of a dream that I had, or worries about the day; nor because of anything that I am cognitively aware of. My subconscious mind has an amazing awareness of the date—February the 23rd.

Grieve it tells me.

This is the anniversary of my father’s death.

Recognizing this day’s significance, the latest episode of Downton Abbey comes to mind. To non-fans, Downton Abbey is an Edwardian soap opera; but to devotees, the Crawley family and their servants are like family. Last Sunday lady Mary Crawley viciously betrayed her sister Edith by gossiping to Edith’s suitor and thus ruining Edith’s hopes for marriage. Later in the same show, Mary is about to be wedded and Edith shows up unexpectedly for the celebration. Explaining this seemingly impossible act of forgiveness, Edith tells Mary “In the end, you’re my sister, and one day, only we will remember Sybil (their deceased sister) Or Mama or Papa … Or Granny or Carson or any of the others who have peopled our youth. Until at last, our shared memories will mean more than our mutual dislike.”

Shared memories of our loved ones are immensely valuable for surviving family members. The generation of my parents’ friends has entirely passed away, and my children barely knew them. So my surviving extended family and our older children are now the only people who can talk about my father and mother with vivid recollections.

There’s a passage in the Old Testament that is probably no one’s favorite Bible verse: “There is no eternal memory of the wise any more than the foolish, because everyone is forgotten before long” (Ecclesiastes 2:16, CEB). It’s hardly inspiring, but profoundly true. To those of us who knew him, my father was extraordinary; a scientist and a polymath, he helped Heparin—an essential medicine—to become more easily available. He built his own sailboat, and radio, and camera, and airplane. And yet, less than a decade after his death, only a handful of people think or talk about him. Ecclesiastes nailed it, everyone is forgotten before long.

This thinking at first appears only negative, but its truth can be redeemed. Skylight publishes a great little book by Rabbi Rami Shapiro titled Ecclesiastes: Annotated & Explained. In this book, Rabbi Shapiro discusses the Hebrew word yitron, “usually translated as ‘profit’ in the sense of something being left over after all is said and done.” He then shares this illustration, “what profit, in the sense of something left over, is there in burning a candle in the dark? None if we expect that something of value remains when the candle burns down and the flame sputters out. But this doesn’t mean there was no value when the candle was aflame. While nothing has permanent profit, many things can profit us in the moment.”

We immediately recognize the truth of this as regards literal candles; we ignite tea-lite or votive candles which provide a lovely sense of atmosphere and we never think “this is a lousy candle, because it will only burn for a finite amount of time.” No, we appreciate the candle while it is lit. The worth of a candle is not in its durability, but in its ability to illumine while lit.

Is the same not true of our lives, and the lives of our loved ones? As Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. reminds us “It is not how long you live, but how well you do it.” Even if I created an immense marble edifice for my father’s ashes, that structure would decay over time and its meaning would be forgotten. My father’s memories will vaporize after my generation of the family passes—but that’s not a tragedy. It’s the only way this world exists; unless your name is Elvis, everyone is forgotten before long. What does ‘profit’ us is to live fully whilst alive, to be recklessly engaged in this moment’s enactment of God’s justice and peace. A good candle glows while lit, and if the tapers of our lives are healthy we will strive to be illumined and to illuminate.

Problems come when we become focused on longevity, on out-lasting our time to burn. We can expend crazy amounts of effort trying to memorialize the dead and even crazier energies attempting to gain some sort of personal immortality. Yet these misguided efforts detract from our burning brightly in the now.

Churches face the same exact problem, the temptation to focus on longevity rather than illumination. I serve as Church Growth Coordinator for the Southwest Conference, and when congregations contact me they are usually wishing to talk about survival. Conversations boil down to “How do we make our church last longer?” The more valuable question for churches is: How much light can we shine in the now? Without too much thought of the morrow, churches need to ask: whose lives can we bless and transform as who we are, where we are, in the present moment?

Ironically, churches that put their energies into blessing others in the present moment tend to be more attractive churches—and the paradoxical result of shining brighter in the now is a possible renewal of the church, an unexpected second life. Could the same thing, perhaps, be said for individual souls? The book that follows Ecclesiastes in canonical order, The Song of Songs, tells us “love is as strong as death…Its darts are…divine flame!” (Song of Songs 8:6, CEB). That great Christian novelist and apologist C.S. Lewis, in his novel The Great Divorce, puts these words into the sainted mouth of his mentor George McDonald, “Every natural love will rise again and live forever in this country (heaven) but none will rise again until it has been buried.” My father spoke little of spiritual matters, but he did once tell me, late in his life, that he expected to continue existing after death on another dimensional plane, and that he expected to be re-united with his wife, who would be on the same dimensional apogee.

So today I remember my father’s candle, after it has gone out. I reaffirm my intention to burn brightly in my time. And if the things that our Scriptures and traditions point to are true, then the love we light now may blaze on into an unforeseeable eternity.

Be a Good Parent. Be Selfish.

by Karen Richter

Parent friends, can we talk? It’s rough out there, right? Parents get a lot of conflicting messages about how to be the best we can for our kids. Tough but compassionate. Attachment and yet independence. Respecting their agency but retaining authority. Let them make choices… but not too many. Say no and mean it, but stay positive. Be available for your children, but take care of your primary partnership.

And yet we wouldn’t trade it for the world.

I’m convinced that parenting is a fantastic spiritual discipline. When I was a kid, I daydreamed about being a nun. Since I was born and raised in the South and never met a single Catholic person until college, this was never a likely scenario… But I think it had something to do with selflessness and dedication – the idea of spending your life doing something worth doing. And maybe it was a juvenile fantasy about Maria from The Sound of Music – that’s a possibility too. But what is parenting, if not dedicating your life’s energy, and sometimes the last cinnamon bagel, to something worth your best efforts?

Be a good parent. Be selfish. by Karen Richter - Southwest Conference blog
Good for babies…and my most faithful prayer discipline ever!

We parent to make our children good human beings and along the way, we become pretty good too.

At the same time, I see a lot of parenting anxiety. I see parents putting their children’s wants and needs ahead of their own – not out of dedication but out of fear. It starts as soon as the stick turns pink, with nutrition and playing music and avoiding stress. About the time my first child was born, new brain development research began to be available to popular audiences. The importance of second language acquisition, “windows” of prime learning, speech development, and stimulating learning environments for babies… I was convinced that any moment that wasn’t full of stimulation was a waste!

Now I see it more with afterschool activities, music lessons, tutoring, drama, and sports. Our families are stressed out. And it’s hard: hard to say no to the opportunity to play with a competitive traveling volleyball team; hard to step away from the pressure to perform; hard to insist on time for your child to just BE.

Be a good parent. Be selfish. by Karen Richter - Southwest Conference blog
Does this look familiar at all?

So start with you. Be selfish. Be a role model for selfishness. Take care of your own spiritual self. Find something that feeds your own soul.

I see families… good loving wonderful families… who are involved in a faith community for their children’s sake. Goodness knows, that’s not a bad thing, but those parents need to hear this loving and gentle instruction: you too are a child of God. Find something spiritual for you.

You.

You are unique and unrepeatable.

You – the universe becoming self-aware.

You, sent by the Spirit to the world to learn and grow all your life long.

You are a gift to the world, so take care of that good gift!

And Merry Christmas to all.

Christmas & Bowen Family Systems

by Amos Smith

Christmas is a time for family. Above is a picture of my family growing up. Family is never perfect. Every family I have encountered in ministry has challenges. Some hide the challenges better than others. Yet, challenges are always there.

How we deal with the challenges of our family of origin has profound repercussions for the rest of our lives. Family and the dynamics of family relationships give us the blueprint that tends to define our future relationships. I have a high regard for Family Systems Thought or Bowen Family Systems as it is commonly called. Bowen Systems has given me and many other ministers and rabbis a more accurate understanding of faith community dynamics than any other paradigm.

One of the counter-intuitive insights of Bowen Family Systems is that all of our relationships are inter-connected. In other words, if a man is having challenges with his wife, instinctively one might think that the best thing for him to do is to work on that relationship. Yet, often Bowen Systems would say, “If you are having challenges with your wife work on your relationship with you mother.” If a woman is having challenges in her relationship with her son, she may need to work on the relationships she has with her ex-husband, husband, or brother. And the list goes on… For a humorous representation of what this might look like in the twenty-first century you may want to take a look at the television show “Modern Family.”

During the holidays many people are stressed by all the preparations. Yet, what is more important than the meals, the stuffed stockings on the mantel, the lights, and the presents under the tree, are our relationships. Seen correctly, beyond shallow commercial and cultural trappings, Christmas at its best is a time to work on our relationships with the people we love. And when one relationship grows in honesty, good boundaries, respect, and love it will have ripple effects on our other relationships.

Merry Christmas!