A lesson on being human ~

This is the first in what I hope will be a series of ‘writings’ about my work/life with the special needs community.  I don’t know that the entries will be chronological or even connected.  I do know that if I’m to write about the interfaith worship services for people with special needs, their families and friends, that I need to start somewhere.  And so, today, I start at a beginning ~

A lesson on being human

My first encounter (that I can remember) with people who move differently through our world was as a young girl volunteering through the girl scouts.  We were going to a state facility for 'the mentally retarded.' Two things remain with me today from what was a very brief portion of my life. 

·        The first is the image of strange looking adults running towards us as we got out of the vehicle.  In the eye of my memory I see this one woman with an uneven bob hair cut, one eye much larger than the other, a strange smile, legs that didn’t move like mine and arms flapping as she came toward me.  With embarrassment and shame I share that I recall being afraid. 

·        The second thing that remains, however, is how I was transformed by that interaction and the short time that followed.  I wish I could recall the name of the young woman who ran to embrace me that day because I owe her gratitude for teaching me all I will ever need to know about being human.  While I don’t recall how we spent all of our time there that day, I can still feel her hand holding mine as we watched a TV program.  Her other hand patting my hand from time to time and she offered me her grin and a smile.  Somewhere along the way, in between pats on the hands or being pulled to see this or that we became two people, holding hands, sharing pieces of who we were, learning about one another and enjoying life, together. 

I could study all of my life and write and preach and blog and ask questions and provide answers and footnote long research papers and never learn as much as I did in that small slice of my life.  You can’t teach the gift of a sincere smile.  You can’t teach the importance of touch.  You can’t teach the importance of being known and the gift of knowing others.  You just can’t teach what it is to be human.  And to know that lesson to the bone, is to never be able to look upon another human being and see that person as anything less than human.  On that day, I was changed forever.  Lesson upon lesson certainly follow and always await.  But for that day, I am eternally grateful.

Reflection on Whiteness ~

Whiteness: Revelations on the Journey to Multicultural Community
(this also appears on the wonderful new Church of the Larger Fellowship (CLF) site, Quest for Meaning - http://www.questformeaning.org/care_help/post/whiteness-revelations-on-the-journey-to-multicultural-community)

"Seeing systems of oppression cracks our hearts open to the plight of others. Seeing our place in those systems breaks our hearts open to the plight within."

While many religious traditions come together in shared theological beliefs about the divine, our tradition calls us together in shared beliefs about how it is we will be together. We hold central a theology of wholeness. That wholeness requires we move beyond acceptance of diversity to an embracing of all people because of their diversity. To achieve this in a world in which “othering” has occurred for centuries requires us to dismantle systems of oppression which give privilege to the mainstream white/Euro culture. To transform these systems, each of us is called to recognize and understand our place in the very system we must dismantle. As a white woman living in suburban New England I must not only recognize the realities of the privileges afforded me, I must also do so in relation to the realities of an African American woman living in urban Boston. Our faith calls me to hear that just as I am able to take my race for granted throughout my day, my counterpart’s race is present constantly. Our faith calls me to step in more deeply until I can see that mine is present constantly as well, and that the privileges afforded me come at her expense.

*****

Not too many years ago I was driving in the city and got lost after a meeting. It was before I had a GPS or a phone to “save” me. Hoping my sense of direction would lead me out of unfamiliar territory, I took several turns. Each turn took me deeper into an unfamiliar urban area that felt increasingly unsafe. I could feel myself get tense and fearful. Not only did the area look unlike anywhere I had lived, nobody looked like me. Every person I saw was of color. As I looked around I wondered who would help me find my way out. Where would it be safe to stop and ask for help? What would happen if I ran out of gas? What if I got a flat tire? My anxiety grew and grew and then for some reason, I stopped. And then I really looked. What I saw was not menacing people looking to prey upon a lost traveler. I saw an elderly woman with a brightly colored bag walking alongside a youngster. I saw two women walking quickly, as if to catch a bus. I saw two men talking outside of a store. Both were laughing at whatever they had shared. Three young girls walked by shoulder to shoulder in the way that school-girls cluster. An elderly man was pushing a double stroller with an infant and a toddler. What I had perceived just moments before as a run-down, dangerous area included a gas station, two small stores, a school with colorful pictures in the windows and some other buildings. What I now saw clearly was a community. I began to cry. Despite participation in many anti-racism, anti-oppression & multiculturalism trainings and leadership in others, I found myself once again in a puddle of privilege-based racist responses to my world. And it was in a piece of my world through which I had never driven, despite living in a nearby suburb for most of my childhood and adult life. I cried. And through the tears, called a friend. Not a friend who was good with maps and could talk me out of the neighborhood, but rather an anti-racist ally friend who was good with navigating white privilege and could talk me into the experience.

A Prayer
Help me see who I am
Love who I find
Use all I am
And work with all others
Building a better tomorrow

A Spiritual Practice
Journal in response to these questions each day for a week:

When was I aware of my race today?
Did I benefit because of my race today?
Did I lose out in any manner today because of my race today? 
Truth awaits
Once tasted
The meal forever altered

 

Wendy von Zirpolo is the minister of the UU Church of Marblehead, MA, past president of UU Allies for Racial Equity (ARE) and co-chair UUA Journey Toward Wholeness Transformation Committee. You can find her blog Living Values ~ Valuing Lives.

Letting go ................ of the 'F' word ~

I begin by outing myself as someone who has never been shy about using curse words (though not from the pulpit!).  I grew up in a house where my father had a fondness for cursing at what always seemed like funny or appropriate moments.  I took great solace in having his ‘Bullsh*t’ mug in the pulpit when I delivered his eulogy.  I never considered my father crass or vulgar.  I still don’t.  That said, I am giving up the ‘F’ word.  Two recent encounters helped me make this decision.  Earlier I thought it was just the experience I had on the beach today.  But when I sat down to write this, I recalled an experience I had just before Christmas and realized the two are connected.

I took time out from writing today to head down to the beach here in Mexico.  It was very windy earlier so I decided to give up the swim to the reef to snorkel and sat down on the sand to dry.  I took in the crowd with great pleasure.  I was sitting on a stretch of beach that last year was primarily host to locals with tourists walking by in either direction to and from hotels and luxury condos.  This year, another beach club has been added nearby increasing the number of tourists, but still the locals come.  To my left, a young couple with three children.  The girls were threatening each other with handed loaded with sand.  I made contact rapidly to make sure they knew I was friendly AND would prefer that no sand land on me!  I smiled as they raced to and from the waves, giggling and playing games.  I particularly enjoyed when one led another with her eyes closed about, asking her to guess where she was at any given moment.  The leader glanced my way as if to say ‘you might become a destination too!’  If I encounter them again maybe we can build a sand castle together.  That was plan B for me if the sand fight continued!  In front of them a new family arrived and I watched Mom and Grandmother slather two toddlers with sunblock as they wriggled.  The call of the waves and three older girls too much to resist.  I smiled as one toddled off in that bouncy way toddlers run, reminded of one of my daughters who had that same bathing suit with ruffles around her solid toddler belly.  To my right, a young couple, most likely from my own country.  A couple in love.  He sweetly slathering her with sun block but ten minutes later teasing her with a hug from his ocean-dipped body!  A mother arrived, she in clothes, naked baby in arms and elder teen-aged daughter by the hand.  The two of them giggled as the mother tried to pull her daughter into the water.  A moment later I looked again and daughter was still dry but mother in drenched clothes with drenched baby was emerging from the water with a wide grin.  Many others were arriving, playing, enjoying.  How familiar it all seems.  How it is we, as humans, engage with all the shore offers – faces turn to the sun, umbrellas and hats are donned to protect, toes wiggle in the sand, towels are shaken before leaving, water invites, frightens, soothes, excites, the shoreline calls ‘play!’ 

It was nearly a perfect moment in time & place ~  And then, the word ‘f*cking’ broke the charm.  The seemingly sweet, caring and playful young man from the US seemed unable to complete two sentences in a row without using that word.  A word that I admit to have claimed ‘the perfect word’ for certain moments in life, sounded so abrasive, cheap and crass.  I don’t know that anyone else even took notice.  But for me, it took on a representative quality for who we are and how careless we can be with language.  Perhaps it offered an alert to what would follow.  The family with the two toddlers, mother, father and grandmother had settled in to relax and watch the two little girls.  The mother had crafted a nifty seat out of sand.  I had watched with interest as she scooped up sand to make a backrest and then plopped her bottom into the scooped out area.  How fabulous!  The reaction of the couple sounded like this:  She: it looks like they like to bury each other in the sand.  He: No, she made him a seat.  It’s strange, they don’t like blankets, you know.  I used to think it was a financial decision or about being lazy but .......

I didn’t wait to hear the end of the sentence ... I went and plunged into the ocean, wishing to distance myself from the couple, the certain knowledge that they are not alone in their stereotyping, and perhaps what he and I shared -- -the use of the ‘f’ word.  I cannot alter this young man’s perception of an entire community of people but today I can make the world a bit prettier by altering my own careless use of a word that to others can sound abrasive, cheap and crass.  ~

** The other experience was that of a five hour train between New York City and Boston that included a young man from Northeastern University who was VERY loud and couldn’t make it through one sentence without one of three curse words and the word ‘douche.’  When I asked him to either whisper or stop using the words, I heard comments about free speech, but was also thanked by the women sitting in front of me and behind the young men.  When I debarked earlier than he, I wished him a wonderful holiday and he apologized for his ‘potty mouth’ with a smile.  I was glad for the positive interaction but not hopeful. 

A Nice Story ~ Just Because ...

It was a day or so after Christmas and we were in a craft store-that-will-not-be-named (in case this story is one that would get an employee in trouble.)  We were picking up some items and I said 'I should take along some art supplies on sabbatical.  It would be good for me to spend some more time drawing. I began to collect the bare necessities.... charcoal, kneaded eraser, etc.  Having spent a lot on the trip I was trying to be frugal. I mulled over the soft lead pencils and decided on two.  I opted out of the larger variety pack of charcoal and decided more of the most common type I used was best. It was then she, always with an eye toward treating me, discovered the special sketching collection.  It contained everything I needed and things that had caught my eye but not made the 'frugal' cut.  She said 'look, it's on sale.  Please let me buy it for you.'  Noticing the bargain price and smile in her eyes, I agreed.

When our turn came at the checkout counter, it rang up at nearly twice the expected price.  It turned out that it had not been on sale at all.  The difference was substantial and not within either of our planned budgets following the holidays, amidst much travel and facing large school costs in Mexico. 

 Me: you know, I am really so fine with the basics.  She: But, it had that cool brown charcoal too.  You liked it.  Me: You are so sweet and that's true, but truly I don't have to have that now. I'm going to zip back and switch this right now.  She: I know you can do without but you know what?  I'd really like to see you have this for the trip.  Please let me get it for you.  Me:  Okay, and thank you so much. (*important to note that no other customers were in line behind us!).

At this point, the cashier continued ringing up the order, but then did something more.  Something quite special.  Our new total reflected what it would have been had it been on sale.  She smiled, telling us she used a special coupon that had been given to employees for a single use.  She wanted to use it for us. We all smiled.  My heart still smiles today.  And today, I will draw and think about love, kindness, graciousness and how the world is full of people who on most days are wonderful and on some days are extraordinary in very simple ways.

Sabbatical Writings ~

      I am so very fortunate to have been called to a vocation in a faith that values the tradition of sabbatical leave for its parish ministers. As a result of that, & with enormous gratitude to the wonderful folks in the Unitarian Universalist congregation of Marblehead, MA, I am currently on sabbatical until the end of March. I am using three months of my time on sabbatical to study Spanish in Mexico, feed my spirit, explore new ways of 'being' in each day and in the world but also to do some writing.
      For over two years, I have been engaged in co-leading a monthly interfaith worship service specifically designed for people with special needs, their family and friends.  Many have asked about the program.  People within my own faith community, people within the advocacy community and people within the special needs community.  My commitment to them, and to my co-leaders, is to spend time over the next three months writing about our journey to the creation of this program, what has worked, our growing edges and why each of us is firmly committed to seeing it continue and to grow. 
     So, for those who have been waiting, I'll begin a week from tomorrow.  For those who come here looking for ways to engage their own spiritual selves ~ I encourage you to read along AND I will also be taking time to post reflections from my sabbatical time engaged in deepening my own spiritual self!   
     Many thanks to all readers, regardless of what pulls you to include a moment here at Living Values ~ Valuing Lives.