Just thinking about my experience of this virus these last three months and how it’s everywhere out there, and maybe it will let me pass by unharmed, or maybe it will f me up a little or a lot, or maybe it will f me up a little but cause lasting damage to my heart or lungs, or maybe it will kill me. And I have no idea which it will be and so I have to be constantly on guard and it’s exhausting and terrifying. And no matter what the virus visits on my body it has already terrorized me, stolen my economic stability, and impacted my mental health and that of my children.
Wait, did I say virus, toward me, for three months?
I meant whiteness, toward black folk, for three hundred years…
-Rev. Molly Housh Gordon, in response to the death of George Floyd
I am writing this shortly after it was announced that the officer that kneeled on George Floyd’s neck has been charged with murder, that ashes are still smoldering from buildings that burned last night in South Minneapolis. And I recall these words of Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King Jr:
…it is as necessary for me to be as vigorous in condemning the conditions which cause persons to feel that they must engage in riotous activities as it is for me to condemn riots. I think America must see that riots do not develop out of thin air. Certain conditions continue to exist in our society which must be condemned as vigorously as we condemn riots. But in the final analysis, a riot is the language of the unheard. And what is it that America has failed to hear? It has failed to hear that the plight of the Negro [sic] poor has worsened over the last few years. It has failed to hear that the promises of freedom and justice have not been met. And it has failed to hear that large segments of white society are more concerned about tranquility and the status quo than about justice, equality, and humanity. And so in a real sense our nation’s summers of riots are caused by our nation’s winters of delay. And as long as America postpones justice, we stand in the position of having these recurrences of violence and riots over and over again. Social justice and progress are the absolute guarantors of riot prevention.
I believe that Unitarian-Universalism unequivocally calls on us to do whatever we can to fight oppression in our midst and in ourselves. What can we do in this moment? One of the most concrete actions I have seen suggested is to commit themselves to NOT calling the police or at least to be super mindful of the consequences it may unleash. In fact, the Unitarian Universalist Association has a guide called “Alternativesto Calling the Police.”
While we are all doing our best to cope with the COVID-19 pandemic, let us not forget the pandemic of white supremacy that has been plaguing us for over 500 years.
The next two Sundays, Dee, Brian, and Rev. Erin Matteson (read more about Rev. Erin here) are going to be leading worship. And what will I be doing? Well, catching my breath. Or trying to. For these next two weeks, my goal is to take more time and space for, well, breathing. (How blessed I am to have a safe home to shelter in and presumably safe air to breath). I have felt the adrenaline draining out of me the past few weeks and now there is the non-adrenalined pandemic world to cope with–and the persistent uncertainty. Now that I have a grasp on doing worship via Zoom, and we got the Payroll Protection loan, and all the other pandemic related tasks that came along, I am forced (or am forcing myself) to just be present with these new and unfolding realities. It’s as if all the sermons I have preached these past two months are unpacking themselves inside me.
I have been able to attend a few sessions of the Festival of Homiletics, which like so much of our lives now, has been on-line. I joined a few other UU ministers in watching particular sessions and we wrote each other messages as we watched–it felt good to be ‘in the pews.’ Rev. Anna Carter Florence preached a really moving sermon on the book of Ezekiel and the story of God bringing Ezekiel to the Valley of Dry Bones and telling him to ‘prophesize’ or preach to the bones. And Ezekiel does. And as he does, God reassembles the bones into bodies and breathes life into them.
Ezekiel is one of those books that’s particularly strange. It tells of Prophet Ezekiel’s visions and is considered to be highly allegorical. Scholars believe that Ezekiel’s teachings take place after the Israelites have been exiled from their homeland and are feeling disoriented being so far away from their homes and their temple. How do they practice their traditions if they can’t be at their temple?
This feels just about right at this moment– preaching into a computer screen probably doesn’t feel nearly as odd as preaching to a valley of dry bones. Fortunately, you are all alive and enfleshed, at least for now. And while most Unitarian Universalists do not consider the church building “their temple,” many of us feel deep affection for our buildings and grounds. Rev. Carter Florence reminded us preachers that so much is out of our control– our job is not to be God, but to be Ezekiel– befuddled, confused, and perplexed but continuing on doing the next right thing. I think that is true for all of us. Our job right now is to embrace the weirdness of this time, be clear about what is in our power and what is beyond it, and stay committed to our Unitarian Universalist values in the face of all that challenges them.
This Sunday May 24th: Stepping back 6 feet (at least) … A Case for Physical Distancing How are you doing with physical distancing? How are you experiencing others when out and about? Putting this into practice may help us avoid more than a virus. Come explore more about what this new social practice invites. Worship Leaders: Dee H, Rev. Erin Matteson, and Jorge Torrez.
“Our minds are together when our bodies feel we’re not. That dissonance, which causes people to have conflicting feelings, is exhausting.”
Another word I could use is haunting. Whether it’s worship, a meeting, or a dance class via video-conference, getting to engage with people ONLY via screen has begun to remind me more of your absence than your presence. Your face on my screen just reminds me of your presence that is getting further and further away. Don’t get me wrong– I’m terribly grateful for all the tech that allows us to stay connected while being physically distanced. And there is no escaping the fact how much I miss you– how much I miss gathering–how much I miss lightly placing my palm on your upper-back as you walk into the sanctuary. I even miss the awkward moments when I try to discern whether you want some kind of touch or whether you prefer physical space as you enter the sanctuary (hint: I always try to follow your lead!)
Perhaps this is why I found myself angry during one of my video-conference dance classes. Like a tantrum my 2.5 year is throwing, I just want to stop my feet and say “I DON’T LIKE THIS-NO NO NO NO!”
At our worship team meeting this week, we discussed this balancing act, a dance if you will, we all have to do right now– expressing gratitude for the many blessings in our lives (including all the tech) and at the same time extending compassion to ourselves and others when feelings like anger and sadness come up. We don’t want to repress the grief nor do we want to get overwhelmed by it. It’s a balancing act, a delicate dance.
I hope you will do some of this dance with me online this Sunday, at 10:30am. Join us for worship on Zoom: https://zoom.us/j/976539809. The meeting ID is 976-539-809. To get the password you will need to join, please send a private message to our public facebook page(click here) and you will get a very quick reply with the password! (sadly, because of ‘zoombombings’, we are needing to take some precautions but are services are open to all with non-hacking intentions!)