Rogue Reverend

The New Economy, What Do You Need?

Are you feeling the pinch of this new economy?

As a minister, I’m constantly thinking, “What do people need?” Do you need opportunities to network? Encouragement? A new outfit for an interview? Resume help (or even just to figure out what keys fix the word resume). Or do you just need to know that you’re not alone?

I know, I know, you’re all thinking, “I just need money.”

Well, you’re not getting that. So, what exactly do you need?

What Does Money Mean?

The worst part about the new economy: if money determines our worth, then we’re all in trouble!

I love this post from Chelsea G. Summers at pretty dumb things. And, by the way, if you’re not reading her blog, you really should. She rocks.

Chelsea writes:

Reviewing my past week, my feelings of wafer-thin vulnerability, my spiraling feelings of loss, my cringing self-doubt, and my choices on how to take care of myself, I wonder what it is I think I’m worth—or not. I feel a tremendous burden of shame over screwing this money poodle so badly, a burden that’s probably disproportionate to paying $135 in overdraft fees. That’s because money, how much there is, how easily I make it, where it comes from, and what I spend it on is such a potent symbol for how I view myself. I’m probably not much different from anyone else in that respect. It’s one of the reasons why we are so reticent to share the crunchy numbers with others, and why we ask what something costs in lowered voices, the voice we usually reserve for sexually transmitted diseases and madness.

I’m going to be a Pollyanna and see my willingness to show my shameful pecuniary panties in public, my choice to air them out and scrutinize my financial skid marks, as a sign that maybe I’m starting to change. Maybe I’m becoming someone who can see herself as being both worth more and more worthy of better care.

I’m going to follow Chelsea G. Summer’s lead, and recognize that my worth is not in my checkbook. And that I am successful regardless of what’s in my savings account. I’m going to remember that I value something more than money.

And I hope you do (will!) to!

Anam Cara

I decided today to get the website active, whether or not it’s ready. Why? Because I miss blogging. Many interesting (to me, at least) strands in the tapestry of my life have been threaded this week, and I just need somewhere to say it.

First, on the job front. I’m still wondering what’s next for me, following Star Light. I live in this strange dichotomy: the feeling that I’m supposed to preach, and the struggle that I really don’t like the institutionalized church. Not a whole lot of preaching that takes place in the corporate world.

Second, on the calling front. Are calling and job different? Well, yeah, perhaps. My friend Mart says that we should follow Paul’s (notice the shivers going up my spine) example and be tentmakers. From Acts 18:2-3, “Paul went to see them, 3and because he was a tentmaker as they were, he stayed and worked with them.”

A friend recommended that I begin to see myself as an Anam Cara:

In Celtic Spiritual tradition, it is believed that the soul radiates all about the physical body what some refer to as an aura. When you connect with another person and become completely open and trusting with that individual, your two souls begin to flow together.

Should such a deep bond be formed, it is said you have found your “Anam Cara” or soul friend.

Your “Anam Cara” always accepts you as you truly are, holding you in beauty and light. In order to appreciate this relationship, you must first recognize your own inner light and beauty. This is not always easy to do. The Celts believed that forming an “Anam Cara” friendship would help you to awaken your awareness of your own nature and experience the joys of others.

The “Anam Cara” was originally someone to whom you confessed, revealing the hidden intimacies of your life. With the “Anam Cara”, you could share your innermost self, your mind and your heart. This friendship was an act of recognition and belonging. When you had an “Anam Cara”, your friendship cut across all convention, morality and category. You were joined in an ancient and eternal way with the “friend of your soul”. The Celtic understanding did not set limitations of space or time on the soul.

This art of belonging awakened and fostered a deep and special companionship. When you love, you open your life to an Other. All your barriers are down. Your protective distances collapse. This person is given absolute permission to come into the deepest temple of your spirit. Your presence and life can become their ground. It takes great courage to let someone so close. Where a friendship recognizes itself as a gift, it will remain open to its own ground of blessing….. When you are blessed with an “Anam Cara”, the Irish believe, you have arrived at that most sacred place: home. This bond between friends is indissoluble: “This, I say, is what is broken by no chances, what no interval of time or space can sever or destroy, and what even death itself cannot part”.

~ from “Anam Cara…Wisdom from the Celtic World“, by John O’Donohue

And third, on the money front. Can anyone teach me how to get paid to be an Anam Cara?

I’m glad to be back!

Money and Calling

My mom always wonders at the fact that calling is imminently connected with money. Preachers always seem to be “called” at the church that pays the most. And they’re always “called” again when someone offers them a job for more money.

I’m not sure that this is always true, although it is true in some situations.

I know more people who have felt “called” to something that definitely won’t pay. Jobs, that should they be taken on, have no promise of making bank. So most of my friends are busy creating other jobs to go along with their “calling” to pay the bills.

One of the best cases in point is my friend Suzanah Raffield. Suzanah is working on a project called birthing hope. Her supporters come together to have a baby shower. Instead of showering one baby, they shower 65, building birthing kits for trained birthing attendants to use in the developing world. You can find out more here. But what’s really cool is the ‘day’ job she’s created to finance her dreams at birthing hope. She will handwrite thank you notes and letters for you. Busy bride? Contact ahandwrittennote. Busy new mom? Contact ahandwrittennote.

And the amazing thing is, you can really change the world WHILE getting one of those guilt-ridden, things-to-do items off your list.

Other Thy Neighbor

I wrote this for the Star Light blog in October, 2008:

I had a dream a few weeks ago. I was hanging out in a brothel. The brothel was raided by the police. The police started rounding up all of the women there, me included. I kept thinking, “I’m a minister, not a sex worker.” And then I would think, “I can prove it!” Then I realized that I could not prove it. I had nothing on my person or in my purse that proved that I was a minister. I was handcuffed and taken away. I remember being resigned to this, to not fighting my way out of it, because this is what sex workers face all the time.

When I awoke from the dream, I knew something was different.

Maybe it’s only a tiny shift, but it’s a shift nonetheless.

I have worked, since the inception of Star Light, for viewing sex workers as whole people, as bright and shining women and men, who are powerful agents in their own lives. But in all honesty, when I started this ministry eight years ago, I thought there was a difference between me and the sex workers. I believed I could help. Mind you, it was never a sense that I knew what was right for any woman, never that I knew better than her where her life could go, never that I had all the answers, but it was, perhaps, that I had more experience, more networks, more maturity and could help. Basically, I thought that I was better than sex workers, even if only in degrees.

In my immaturity, I committed the sin of othering, especially when it came time to talk about the ministry I was doing. I talked about the kind of statistics Melissa Farley talks about. I used the “these poor women” tactic, because it was the only one I knew. I shudder now when I think about talking about some of the sermons and teaching I did. I try to imagine myself saying those things in front of the women I work with, and I just can’t imagine it.

I’ve been thinking about a sermon I heard in my preaching class in seminary, by a friend named Kara. The type of sermon we were supposed to be preaching was on a specific social justice issue, and hers was on homosexuality. As a rhetorical device, Kara used a lot of “those people” statements, which were very effective for understanding that “those people” weren’t different from everyone else (by the way, this was a VERY radical view in our seminary, which I shared with Kara). The finale of the sermon came when Kara, this straight, sweet, innocent woman with a lilting voice, exclaimed, “I’m a homosexual!”

I saw myself as “other,” and that is sin.  I am sorry.

I perpetuated that othering through conversations, preaching and teaching. I am sorry.

Ultimately, though, I realize that I didn’t take the role of prophet far enough. I am convinced that the church is replete with well-intentioned people who are committing the sin of othering through their mission endeavors. Church members are concerned with the sin of commercial sex, but, really, it keeps them cozy in their feeling, “I’m better than you.” Failing to understand this, and failing to point this out, put me in collusion with their sin.

And I am sorry.

Towards the end of Jesus’ ministry on earth, he begins explaining to his disciples that he’s going to be killed. Then he says, “I no longer call you servants, because a servant does not know his master’s business. Instead, I have called you friends.”

I don’t resonate with Jesus calling his disciples servants. However, the shift in his understanding of who the disciples were does resonate with me. It’s a shift from “I’m better than you,” to “I’m equal to you and you are equal to me.” It says, “I no longer teach, I learn. I no longer comfort, I am comforted. I no longer lead, but I am lead.” There’s a healthy reciprocity in the relationship. I feel that, and I think my dream on Saturday illustrates it more than anything.

I am grateful for my friends who are sex workers for putting up with me thus far. You have taught me about strength. You have taught me about resilience. But most of all, you have taught me acceptance, the greatest component of love. Thank you.