My partner and I live next to and across from an empty lot.  For sale and for rent signs are all over our neighborhood. Empty shopping strips FOR LEASE are ghostly reminders of the boom times.  Most of the time, I no longer notice.  When I travel to other places, I see buildings occupied with stores and home-owners and renters.  Then I remember that Lee County still has some major problems.  For those who do not have the luxury of traveling, Occupiers will help reframe and remind all of us in Lee County that the foreclosure situation is not okay.  It is not normal.  Homes used to be a symbol of the American dream, a symbol of success.  Now, many homes in Lee County, taken by mold and disrepair, are symbols of disappointment and failure.  Sadly, that failure lands on the homeowner, the person who invested in the dream of having a stable asset.

In the midst of my appreciation for Occupy Fort Myers, let me also mention a little something about the Advent season.  In these days leading up to Christmas, Christians are noticing and inviting their own Occupy movement.  Advent is the season to quiet one’s soul and anticipate the in-dwelling spirit of the Holy.  Emmanuel means god with us.  Anticipating the birth of Christ, the incarnation of Love and Peace in the world, the connections of Occupy and Advent are real for me.  The Occupy movement appeals to that very in-dwelling best-place self within me…the seat of my soul that compels me to love, to worship the beauty of the earth, to work for justice and peace…

As code officials discuss what fines Occupy Fort Myers will have to pay each day for their occupation of foreclosed homes, I am grateful that OFM too has occupied my conscience.  As such, their work has caused me to slow down and notice Emmanuel.  And I shall not wait passively for some magic miracle. Instead, I shall work to make my being a worthy companion and an open vessel to the in-dwelling Spirit of Love. I shall make of myself a birther of Peace in the world.

For Occupy: (lyrics from Latin 9th century, based on John Mason Neale, 1818-1866)

O, come, O come, Emmanuel, and with your captive children dwell. Give comfort to all exiled here, and to the aching heart bid cheer.  Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel shall come within in as Love to dwell.

Rejoice Occupiers!  Thank you for making room for Love to dwell.  May the Spirit of Life and Love dwell in you as you occupy our minds and hearts.

I am continually annoyed at the Oprah-esque, Diet Coke, soft spirituality of gratitude.   Gratitude: an opiate of narcissists ?

or

a discerning practice of naming reality as it is and deciding, based on these observations, how one wants to appreciate, embrace and conduct one’s life?

OK, so this is a bit curmudgeonly.  Most days I am singing and smiling, but nothing takes the sunshine out of my mood more than seeing those sappy thanksgiving commercials that play on our sentiments to make us buy stuff.  Grrrrrr….

Gratitude has become a great way of marketing to the self-help crowd (takes one to know one!) and sending messages like: Yes, love your life, everything is fine!  Don’t listen to those people on the streets (99% anyone?)…instead, how about a new car that celebrates you and who you are!  Be grateful…and buy stuff!  Buy stuff and you will have plenty for which to be thankful.  Moreover, you might be in god’s favor when you buy nice things (so you better buy nice things just to have your bases covered.  Nice Hummer, pastor!)

And how many who struggle daily in their lives to survive can accept that they should just be grateful? “Oh yes, God, thank you so much for this day in which I discovered I have cancer.” “Thank you, mille grazie, for the foreclosure of my home and the medical bills from the merely coincidental heart attack and bevy of tests and hospitalization.”  Or, “Oh yes, thank you, Life, for the tsunami!” Or…”Ah, yes, great Cosmos, thank you for the meteor that is barrelling towards the earth.”

But in many ways, this way of thinking about gratitude is one that assumes a certain theological point of view. The point of view it assumes is belief in a certain god who exists in the realm of knowable human logic.  If A then B! It also assumes this is a kind of Santa Claus god (and one who had better get a thank you note at that…he was no joke about floods, plagues, and other forms of retribution for being slighted).  In this way, I loved the Greeks who, as captured in their plays, would throw up the great apostrophe to the sky, keening, and yell at the gods, “Why did you do this to me?”  And you have every freedom to choose to worship and believe those gods.  I mean, they have some great stories, AND, sometimes mortals get to procreate with them.

For another tack, let’s assume that god- instead- is a sort of container-like name for that which is beyond human logic but also is something that is known in the heart, in the inner life, in human imagination and even beyond it, some spot in us that observes, that nudges, that judges, that loves, that connects and makes meaning and renders us more human in one another’s eyes, revealing that which connects us and the spaces the hold us in our own integrity. Or, uh, whatever that requires more of a conversation about the mystery and ambiguity of god (or another word you prefer) as a felt presence of the More-Than that endures in the human being.  As I know it, this Mystery is more of a companion and less of an agent in control of the things that happen in our lives.

Perhaps setting an intention of gratitude does involve searching for the positive, wonderful moments of grace in life. And yet, I wonder if gratitude is not a sweeping ackowledgement of our sentience: of both the moments of discontent and contentedness all wrapped up in this Life. And would not any good companion urge you to say,

Yes! I am a sentient being!

I get to taste and smell and touch and feel this very life. This life may not be easy. This life may not be fair. And my being grateful does not mean that I will just bend over and take whatever injustices I witness without a fight.  I choose gratitude as a way of living…not because I won’t go to heaven if I don’t thank my god…but because I have chosen to love life, to love this earth, to love people.

In the end, the curmudgeonly post ends in the ambiguous and annoyingly lovey-doveyspace of the minister blogger telling you, good people, that gratitude is about the messy act of loving life.  Some folks say it simple…like how meditation is simple…but it’s hard.  And no Hallmark card can really capture the messiness of loving Life and being thankful.

Today I am grateful for the complex and rich resource that is my family and for the opportunity to be connected to them.

I am grateful for my body and its complexities and my messy and haphazard relationship with it/me.

I am grateful for the continual ways in which I totally mess up and for the forbearance of those around me.

I am humbled by all this and more….I sing my thanks and praise.  All hail the wild and wooly life.

In 1963, Hannah Arendt wrote the book, Eichmann in Jerusalem, pointing out that Eichmann truly was not a Nazi mastermind.  Instead, he was careless and thoughtless, confessing to be a man crunching numbers (human lives) and simply “doing his job” pushing papers.  She concludes in her book that the evils of the Holocaust were not radical acts of monsters.  Conversely, these were insidiously banal actions of people living in a system of faulty logic.  Arendt’s book reminds us that if we continue to live in ways that are thoughtless to the human lives around us, we too may be committing atrocities, all in a day’s work.  Arendt, to this day, invites me to be more thoughtful. How easy it is to forget our mutual humanity.  If only Eichmann had remembered that simple, profound truth: we are all human, we are all connected.

http://www.salon.com/wires/allwires/2011/01/27/D9L0Q2F80_ml_israel_eichmann_reunion/index.html

And we can’t staunch the flow.

In the halls of Washington vampires still want more blood, more money- they represent families and tribes with generations and generations of wealth to protect,  Drill, baby, drill.  Never mind the blood, dear.

I push the blame off of myself as I drive my car, look around our crowded streets, and feel as if we are all imprisoned in the guzzling of gas- the lifeblood of a post-modern, uber-busy, little boxes lifestyle.  Using Oil is non-renewable and reprehensible.  I feel responsible.  I feel guilty.  I feel trapped.  The average person can’t afford to buy a Prius or fabulous hybrid.  And in Fort Myers, the public transportation system serves only a public that can expect to arrive one hour early or late to wherever they need to go, taking 2-3 times longer than if having traveled in one’s own vehicle- if you have one.  The bike paths are constructed for recreation, less for commuting.  I have read (and shuddered) at plenty of squeaky-wheels in the ever-enlightening News-Press mailbag letters- to-the-editor, complaining about cyclists on the road as if they were criminal or deserved to be hit by cars for the idiocy of trying to get anywhere by bicycle.

But somehow I feel like I need to own this- obstacles aside.  I feel like I am a 19th century new England coastal villager who invests in the rum trade.  The whole town is in on it- the most un-cool Co-op that ever existed.  Invested money goes toward the purchase of sugar, boats, crews, and…slaves.  How many villagers in small towns like Bristol, Rhode Island, quietly tried to ignore the fact that Africans were being trapped and enslaved, shipped to Cuba from Ghana on behalf of their growing investment in the rum industry?

In the past 48 days I have been unable to ignore oily film of complicity coating my being.  In the words of Lady Macbeth: Out damned spot!

I want to go clean birds and feel good about myself, the way many well-intended white people (example being me, for one)  flock to anti-racism trainings simply to expunge themsleves from guilt but never change their behavior in day-to-day living.  Frankly, I am scared to change my life into one that is independent of fossil fuels.  I can’t live here in Florida without air-conditioning.  I can’t not drive.  I can’t bicycle everywhere when I am also supposed to look professional.  I cannot cook over a fire- I love my new cooktop!  I can’t walk anywhere in my cute, grown-up, “What Not to Wear” shoes.

But I have always been very all or nothing.  People tell me I can take small steps- little changes.  I can have a conversation with my life partner about how we can do better.  I can think more on how to change my lifestyle while still doing the work I love.  This is the best I can do for now.  But is it true what Lady Macbeth says: “What’s done cannot be undone?”

The Passover season gives all of us an opportunity to pause and think about what in our lives and in our world calls for justice and liberation.  Today I preached from a text written by colleague Rev John Nichols:

The miracle of Exodus is not whether or not the Red Sea parted.  That is nothing more than a poetic conceit.  The miracle of exodus is that a group of people finally realized for themselves, for us, and for all time that you cannot stay in Egypt.  Any personal commitment that is not toward growing and changing, any religious commitment that is not towards goals beyond one’s own personal welfare, is a commitment toward slavery in Egypt.

And so, in the prophetic spirit of the Passover time and as an ally to the Coalition of Immokalee Workers through Interfaith Action of Southwest Florida, I say to Publix Supermarkets, “You cannot stay in Egypt.  Publix, you must understand that your ignoring the tomato issue does not take away the power of your complicity in modern-day slavery.”  For too long, no one will take responsibility for slavery happening in Florida fields.  Not me, says the contractor, who sub-contracts the “labor.”  Not me, says the grower, who owns the fields  enslaved people are forced to work.  Not me, says the grocery store who buys the tomatoes grown in the fields where slavery and abuse occured.  No one will name their complicity in Egypt!

Publix, as you may know, has been the local focus of the Coalition of Immokalee Worker’s Campaign for Fair Food.  For too long, Publix has stood on the side of community welfare to give up on itself now.

And I believe that Publix is greatly in need of liberation.

Their liberation involves breaking free from the chains that stubbornly keep them from coming to the table to talk about signing an agreement with the Coalition.  Such an agreement would ensure, to the best of their ability, that they will no longer be complacent and complicit to slavery in Southwest Florida fields.

A friend sent me some pictures from a Publix advertisement in a paper.  The ad reads.

“This year as you gather with your family around the Passover family to taste the foods of freedom and the wine of redemption, we celebrate your perseverance and faith.”

Now, this is so lovely.  But, in order to authentically celebrate perseverance and faith, Publix must sell foods that were freely grown and picked.  Foods of freedom, for real.  The bitter herbs of slavery ought to only be a memory.  If only they were.  The wine of redemption waits for Publix in Immokalee, if only they would come and drink.  The table is set and waiting, the door open and waiting for Publix leaders to come, sit, and talk about the tomatoes they buy and how it affects real human beings.  For months, the Coalition of Immokalee Workers has been asking for them to come and talk- with great faith and perseverance, I might add- and the continued campaign has led to a 3-day Farmworker Freedom March April 16-18 from Tampa to Lakeland.  How timely, as we sing songs of freedom,  that we might plan to show up and support the farmworkers in Immokalee.

Someday, may it be that the CIW’s songs of freedom are not ignored.  The festal bread awaits, Publix, won’t you come and sit at the table?

Thank you, Jordan Buckley, for these images.

The Praying Hands meets Heretical Prayer Hands. Amen and Hallelujah!

The next photo was on our way to Grand Lake from Tulsa.  How is this for a Wayside Pulpit?

The best part is that on our way back to Tulsa, the sign had a clever retort that we were sure the pastor himself put up. My brain is not remembering the quote, but it was something about the vagaries of an idle tongue.

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Folks, this is worthy of your time and consideration.

A congregant said to me after worship once, you have so much output! you are a prolific writer!

Can I just say that I really don’t like writing that much?  Some of you can relate- those of you who agonize over a careful email reply, who spend an hour (or two) on a newsletter column- you got me!  It is just so much energy going out, and often not enough energy coming in.

When I started training in karate in Chicago at my happy LGBT friendly, open-minded, peace-monger dojo (YAY!), I soon found myself over-committed.  I was doing all kinds of leadership work in church, I was coordinating something for a dojo fundraiser, I was working 50 hours a week, PHEW!  I was literally making myself crazy.  One day I was stretching before karate class and my kyoshi (a senior many-striped black-belt instructor) knelt down to my level on the ground and asked, Allison, how are you doing? I looked at her and, tears streaming down my face, still said, I’m fine.  It was hilarious in a way.  I was not fine.  I was a wreck.  I was spewing out energy from myself and never replenishing.  My kyoshi then told me how strong I was.  She told me that I did not always have to do my karate 200%, but that sometimes, to really make it and stay on the path, I would need to reduce my power and train softly.

I have held onto that in my faith development.  It is so important to go softly sometimes, to be in the empty places and feel them in order to make ready to receive and listen to what needs to be received and heard.  The still, small voice is rarely heard in the midst of clanging bells (though may people I know find heavy metal a stairway to the Holy).  That moment began the slow process for me of going softly- of sometimes trying to fudge somewhere in between all and nothing.  The middle path is not always boring- in fact I have found it to be most enlightening and interesting.  Finding balance is a constant struggle.

I like the idea of trying to live a little more softly, sauvemente.

In the din of life, go softly.  Feel the rough edges of emptiness to invite healing in, to invite the softening.

Thus sayeth the callings of this gray, moist, breezy day in Fort Myers.

According to the Unitarian Universalist Association,

Congregation-Based Community Organizing (CBCO, also called Faith-Based, Broad-Based, or sometimes Institution-Based) is a movement that seeks to establish inter-faith, cross-class, multi-ethnic and multi-racial grassroots organizations for purposes of increasing social integration and power in civil society and for making civic, regional and state-wide changes for social improvement.

So what is the Lee County Interfaith Sponsoring Committee?  At this point it is s group of clergy (or senior congregation leaders) who are planting seeds for a congregation-based community organization in Lee County.  We are working and receiving support from DART.

DART stands for Direct Action Research and Training Center.  On the organization’s website they say the following about themselves:

The Direct Action and Research Training (DART) Center is committed to building powerful, diverse, congregation-based and democratically-run organizations capable of winning justice on issues facing the community. Since 1982, DART has built and strengthened over twenty locally affiliated organizations in six states and trained over 10,000 community leaders and 150 professional Community Organizers.

How Unitarian Universalist is this?  Justice work? Democratic organizing? Community caring?  Building relationships- yes!  This is a place to work in solidarity with a diverse group of people and get the change to see  each other as fellow human beings who care about Lee County.  What better movers and shakers than people of faith?  Check out this video and get ready to be excited about this organization taking off!  Hopefully many congregations will make financial commitments to this organizing coalition so that great work can be done in our larger community.  More importantly is the investment of belief and energy that we can come together, in spite of theological and political differences, and work for common goals of justice in Lee County.