Do Overs?

 

Last week's theater, Tennessee William's A Streetcar Named Desire is still in my head today.  I was thinking back of a time when I lived in a small town in upstate New York, where anyone who wasn't born there, was considered an outsider.

While living in that town I met a woman in her 40s who had been a teacher.  We got together once in a while for a meal or to watch a movie.  I remember one day as we sat munching popcorn in my living room, she told me that she had been sent to prison for a while, and it was hard being back.  Every time she left the house, she heard people whispering about her.  I thought at the time, it sounded a bit paranoid.  But then I learned that she had been with an underage young man.  He had been 17 at the time.  When they were caught by his mother, he was just a few days from his birthday.  She was very angry about getting caught.

I was horrified.  I was quite judgmental.  And when my judgment came out of my mouth, she left, and I never saw her again.  At the time, I was glad.  And I felt quite justified in my attitudes.

Even now, it makes my skin crawl.  Abusing one's power is a creepy thing.  And the woman in A Streetcar Named Desire, Blanche Dubois, is both a pitiable character and in some ways makes one's skin crawl.  We tend to want to make people like Blanche into monsters who are more than human.  But she is just a human being, who went beyond a couple of bad choices.  But her choices created a deep wedge between herself and what was acceptable. 

How long should someone pay for those choices?  And do those kinds of choices, give others the right to abuse? 

Another time, when I was looking at joining a church in a large city, the pastor talked about a man who attended, who was a pedophile.  He asked me how I thought the church could make room for such a one?  I didn't know.  I still don't know. 

This particular issue tends to make me more judgmental than any other.  I made a promise when I became a young adult that I would never abuse someone young and innocent.  I've kept that promise.    When someone else steps over a boundary...even by a few days, I don't have any tolerance in me.

God can forgive anything at all!  I believe that.  And I have forgiven those who have abused their power over me when I was younger.  But I won't invite them back into my life. 

And maybe that is a question which is not even fair to pose to myself.

We are all human, and we have all made poor choices in our lives...sometimes really stupid ones...sometimes even evil ones, which leave a stain that doesn't wash away very easily.  Sometimes it is difficult to find the answers, or the ability to forgive...others, or ourselves.  And yet it is all part of the work we are called to do as human beings.  If we refuse, our lives get really messed up. 

Maybe the key, and I think Spirit has been challenging me on this one this past week...has to do with repentance.  Blanche wanted to start over.  Did she deserve a second chance?  We all want a second chance...but that is absolutely impossible, unless we turn away from the mistake, sin, or evil that has been done.  And those of us who have been wronged, must hold the wrongdoer accountable.  Forgiveness without the work of repentance is cheap and meaningless...and can actually do more damage to both the wrongdoer and the wronged, if the hard work is not addressed.

Do overs?  Yes.  I believe in them.  When there is a willingness to do the work of repentance and forgiveness; when we are willing to open our lives to the work of God's Love. 

  

Reflections

Gazing at the reflection of my life,
there before me,
I wonder
why the picture
has so much remained the same.
Trying so many different ways...
attachment,
detachment,
loving,
anger,
meditation,
action,
art,
work
friendship
oh...the pain of that
so often betrayal by the one
most trusted.

Still, the reflection
remains,
full of color,
and beauty,
through time and space
and living years.
I give myself to
completion,
to this moment,
this hour,
this day,
until the image fades away.

What else is there to do
but to paint on this canvas of pain
marred by my own mistakes
my own missteps of trust
and even honesty?
--------------------------

Good theater is a powerful means of reflecting to society its absurdities, cruelties, injustices, as well as the things which human beings do right, which is love and humor, forgiveness and pulling together in crisis.

This past weekend I had the good fortune of seeing a Tennessee Williams play I have seen before.  Its message seems timeless, as so many things have not changed in the 66 years since the play was first done.  It was well received.  People seemed to embrace its message.  And perhaps to be fair, some things have changed a bit.  But young men who are gay, are still often shamed and bullied and some end up killing themselves.  And those who make terrible mistakes, especially women, are condemned and labeled and excluded from the society of the "righteous", whose own crimes are often much worse than the one whose life is put on trial by friends and family and community.  Funny, how the "righteous" are simply the ones with the power to exclude and condemn.  And the ones with the power, are the ones whose voice seems to be the voice that counts....even when that voice is rooted in lies or vengeance or brutality.

Mr. Williams was a brave sort.  His work still speaks.  And his own life was fraught with difficulties...but then, that is how one becomes a good artist of any sort.

Here among the Stones

"Here Among the Stones", photo by Constance Schroeder, copyright 2013

 

Here among the stones
she grows
their silent song
pull her roots within
their cold, rough surfaces
strange comfort
to the leaves which drink sun and rain
and at the end of day
lay back against these ancient pieces
of the earth.

And in the darkness of the night,
the stones sing out a song,
communing with the stars
and she delights in its deep hum
of harmony all around her.
She grows
her prayer
her small flowers
join the blessed harmony
all about, beneath, beside, above, within...

The song go on,
here among the stones.

-------------------------

Choosing to live in harmony with the world around us, with the communities of which we are part, with family and friends is often a silent and even difficult choice.  Choosing to remain silent when disagreements rise up.  Choosing to be supportive of one who has hurt us.  Choosing to love even when we've been thrown off kilter are powerful, life affirming choices, and yet so difficult.  Choosing laughter and warmth seems like a no brainer, and yet many of us refuse the joy which is right before us.  Instead, we delve deeply into the darkness, the grief, the violence of the world.  We watch television shows which promote violence on so many levels.  We read books which celebrate violence, we play video games which draw us further into worlds of fear and rage.  We think ourselves somehow exempt from the effects.  But we are not. 

We are glad when one who has killed is himself killed.  And we do not see our own responsibility in the violence.  We have become such individualists, that we do not know how to live with each other in community and in peace.  Our pain, our anger, our bitterness has created such walls of division that we refuse to build bridges of healing.  It is because we ourselves are desperately in need of healing. 

There is One who calls us to stillness.  We can only hear the song of the stars when we find the stillpoint, the center of ourselves, which roots itself in the ancient and the eternal.

May we live in harmony with goodness and peace this day. May we choose love and life and wholeness.

Shalom.

Spring

Taken April 9 in Ashland, Oregon.  Copyright 2013, Constance Schroeder

It is a sad day...multiple bombings at the Boston Marathon, three people dead and many injured.  What is the reason for the violence?  What illness takes hold within a human mind that desires to hurt and to harm and to kill?   What deep pain turns into a bitterness capable of such rage and harm?  What a terrible waste of life and potential and possibility it is when someone allows their pain to poison and destroy. 

In the book of Hebrews in the New Testament, there is a verse which says: "Let no root of bitterness spring up, and by it many be defiled."  I think this is the very thing that verse is speaking about.  When we allow old injuries to take root, when we refuse to work hard on issues of forgiveness, our bitterness and anger begins to effect how we see things.  And our anger comes out in ways which are destructive...like today's marathon.  We think of ourselves:  "I would never do such a thing."  And yet, our bitterness Xes people out, pushing them away from us, and creating more pain and anger beneath the surface.  Unkindness, gossip, labels, excluding others can be the beginning of deeper violence. 

Someone said that one comes to appreciate spring more as one ages.  I think it must be true.  Autumn used to be my favorite season.  But now, each spring, watching for new life in its many forms, begin to peek out, spring up, blossom, bloom and dazzle us mortals is a great sport!  The past few days I've been noticing that the lilacs are budding, and today, I noticed some blossoms, and that intoxicating perfume, which is one of my favorites of the season.

This tree is part of an orchard.  It is obviously an older tree.  The age of it is showing.  And still it is full of blossoms that promise a wonderful harvest in the fall. 

May the things which take root in our lives, be filled with possibility and beauty, with goodness and the promise of a rich harvest.  Let's weed out the bitterness.  Let's keep our lives free from insidious, and fill it with goodness.
 

A Street Called "Straight..."

Taken in Ashland, Oregon.  copyright 2013, Constance Schroeder

Yesterday's epistle reading was the one where Paul has a vision and is asked why he is persecuting Jesus.  The upshot of the deal, is that Paul is blinded and led away to a street called straight.  According to Tony Hutchinson's (our rector at Trinity, where I attend), "straight" in the Greek means "upright." (It doesn't have a thing to do with being a slur against LGBTQ people!) And Paul waits for some man named Ananais to come and lay hands on him so he can regain his health.

Tony's sermon yesterday left me with many feelings, and in fact I spent part of the afternoon doing a bit of weeping, trying to understand exactly what was going on in me around it all.  I'm still not sure I quite understand what the Spirit is stirring in me, but I am leaving the work in God's hands, and just trying to stay out of the way.    

I do know that since moving here to Oregon, I have been doing my best to do things differently.  I don't want to go back to the things that left me more broken, more confused, more covered in mud and pain.  Arriving at Trinity has been a bit like arriving at a "street called straight," a place where I have found people who live lives rooted in hope; people who treat others, even the stranger, with respect and with kindness.  And my life has become the better for it.  Little by little, as my health allows for it, I am choosing to serve in the ways I am able to serve.  Little by little, I look for ways to use my creative mind in ways that might be helpful to others. 

Funny, how one's early years can demolish so much potential in a life.  It can take a very long time to heal enough that others do not continue to humiliate and destroy the possibility in a life.  It can take a very long time to learn enough not to do it to oneself.  Forgiveness, praying for one's enemies, and finding sisters and brothers who live on a street called straight is the way for one rooted in Christian tradition to heal and lead a life that God can use.

Someone once said what a "waste" childhood sexual abuse is in this world.  And it is true.  Years when one should have the energy and exuberance of youth, get stolen away.  Relationships are marred.  Bad choices get repeatedly made.  The pain, the destruction continue, even when actual abuse has long ago ended.

Forgiveness

Sunrise in Ashland, Oregon, April 9th.  photo by C. Schroeder, copyright 2013

Every new day offers us forgiveness.  We begin again.  We eat, we sleep, we work, we dream, we relate, we love, we do all sorts of things each day, and often things of which  we are ashamed.  It's an odd thing the human heart.  When we treat someone badly, we seem to try and justify it somehow, and the bad treatment goes on and gets worse.  All because we cannot say "I'm sorry." or "Please forgive me." 

I'm not sure what makes asking forgiveness, or forgiving such a difficult thing, but if there is any one thing that messes up the planet, it is our inability to release our resentments and to move forward. 

We are beloved.  It is often our uncertainty about that particular status that makes for difficulties with others.  I've been reading Henri Nouwen's book:  Life of the Beloved.  He talks about how our insecurities make things a competition.  Could we just see that we are beloved, and there is no competition when we are held within the love of God.  We are each beloved. When we can see each other in that context, we can relax.  Competitions and disagreements can ease. 

"Joy" my dog...taken in February, 2013.  Yes, that is my shoe at the bottom of the photo :-)

“If we are to love our neighbors, before doing anything else we must see our neighbors. With our imagination as well as our eyes, that is to say like artists, we must see not just their faces but the life behind and within their faces. Here it is love that is the frame we see them in.”
― Frederick Buechner, Whistling in the Dark: A Doubter's Dictionary

 

\A lifetime of knowing one's neighbor sometimes is not enough to honestly be able to love them fully, as they deserve to be loved.  After a year and half of life with "Joy" who offers ever new perspectives on life, and who often loves me so well,  I am still learning how I can best love her.  Trying to use my imagination; trying to understand how I can best help her; trying to figure out what makes her react so dramatically at times, we live together in an easy peace, most of the time.  It's the times when I come home to a chewed up jacket that leave me puzzling over her behavior. 

 

Sometimes it is easier to be compassionate toward a canine friend who is frightened and panicky than it is to be compassionate toward the person next door who refuses to smile or engage in conversation.  It's easier to judge...to be angry...to put them in their place, or simply avoid them all together.  Some neighbors don't seem to want our love in any way shape or form.  Maybe the best way to love them, is simply to give them their space. 

 

You know what I've found in loved ones of the human variety, is that asking them how I can best love them is a most welcome question.  It often brings tears.  It often melts away defenses and offers a way through the misunderstandings and the anger.

 

The other day, after being out and about, I came in the house and started to cry.  I didn't know why for a few minutes.  But after a while I figured it out.  My feelings had been hurt, and I felt as though the person I had been with hadn't really seen me or my situation.  We all want to be understood.  My feelings have gotten hurt a couple of times lately, and part of me wants to rush in and confront the person who did the deed.  But then that wouldn't be trying to understand them, to accept them.  If the offense was a larger issue about justice, I would probably speak up.  But since it's my feelings and my struggle, I will try to find a way around it, releasing the resentment and opening to compassion.  And that compassion is both for myself as well as the other.

 

Seeing our neighbors means also seeing ourselves.  We must understand our motivations, the trauma and the old "stuff" that often cause us to react rather than respond.  When we can have compassion toward ourselves and understand ourselves clearly, it is much easier to make the choice to open our hearts to our neighbor, or spouse, or children, or friends. 

 

 

Perfection

flowers from the choir brunch

Perfection...two days after the choir and clergy brunch which I organized, I am still trying to recover!  But these flowers are just perfect.  I fell in love with them, so I brought them home.  Simple and elegant, each time I pass by them I find myself catching my breath in wonder. 

Oh to be such perfection!  Oh well...humans that are perfectly beautiful on the outside, sometimes lack that beauty in other ways.  Still, one can wish, one can dream! 

There is a part of us that is so perfect.  Remembering that can be challenging, but it's there, made in the image of God, and when we can get our egos out of the way, it shines.