Happy Birthday Church - a zine

A couple of years ago, during COVID, I made a little zine that I shared in care packages with church kids. I think it still stands up. And I think it's a helpful way of telling the story of Pentecost. Happy birthday, Church!

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Book Review: The Birchbark House series

The Birchbark House series

by Barbara Erdrich

It has long been my practice to center people of color and women in my own fiction reading. When I'm picking out books to read with my kids I've been less discriminating. I wouldn't read something overtly racist or sexist, but if reading Captain Underpants is what's going to get my kid interested in books, then I'll put up with a certain level of literal potty humor. But I do try a little, and ooh baby, do I have a recommendation for you. And by the way, even if you don't have elementary aged kiddos at the moment, I would have enjoyed these books simply for my own pleasure, so take a look!

I'd known and loved Louise Erdrich's work for a long time, two of my particular favorites being The Sentence and Future Home of the Living God. And I'd known that she had a series for kids but until I had a kid the right age, I wasn't motivated to take a look. I now really, really wish I'd read these much earlier. And I especially wish I'd had these books when I was a child and very into Little House on the Prairie.

Like the Little House series by Laura Ingalls Wilder, these books are set in the mid 1800s - though slightly earlier) and they take a journey through the Midwest - though more northerly. Unlike the Little House series, which depict indigenous people as savages to be feared and white settlers as pioneers and adventurers, the stories are rooted with Anishinaabe children and their families. They start at the western tip of Lake Superior and by the second generation have migrated west to the northern Dakota territory.

There are many of things I loved about these books. First, the window into what family life in indigenous communities looked like almost two centuries ago. The way life was tied to the seasons: rooted in one camp for spring and summer where they were close to maple sugaring trees and the garden and in another place in the winter and fall, where there was wild rice to be harvested and a place to cache food for the cold months. The way siblings across time and in all places tease and squabble and love each other. The work and play that buoyed life together, first in the woods among the birches, and then on the sweeping prairie, where camps follow the buffalo.

I loved the integration of Ojibway words and phrases - sometimes with meanings made explicit and sometimes you needed to figure out from context clues. The main character Omakayas told her annoying little brother, "Gego, Pinch!" (stop it, Pinch!) so often that I heard Orie repeating it to himself in the days following those chapters. Erdrich provides a glossary at the end of each book, but I found that we didn't need to consult it.

I also loved and was heartbroken by the unflinching approach to illness, death and conflict. These families experience starvation, small pox and forced migration. They endure tragedies and you mourn with them when loved ones are lost, experience their fear and despair during a kidnaping, rage when they are cheated and their belongings are stolen. But we also experience the deep love of family connection, the joy of sneaking a taste of maple sugar or learning to ride a horse for the first time, the triumph of stealing an eagle's feathers and the exhilaration of canoeing churning rapids.

There were times while Orie and I were reading these books when I did need to stop and check if he understood what was going on. Sometimes the storyline and situations are complicated. And they are often told from a child's perspective, when the child him or herself doesn't necessarily understand what's happening. These times were often when the families in the story encountered white people whose habits, language and ways were unfamiliar. For example, when Chickadee, one of Omakayas' twin sons is 'rescued' by a wagon full of women wearing long grey gowns with funny cloths on their heads and a man with a black robe they call 'Father.' They take Chickadee to a building where they try to cut off his braids and take his warm rabbit fur clothing before he escapes.

It was clear to me in that scenario that a priest and some nuns took Chickadee and that they wanted to 'civilize' him. But that wasn't clear to Chickadee and it wasn't clear to Orie, though it did start a conversation about they way the church treated indigenous children. Erdrich's depiction of white folks doesn't make them all into villains. In her stories both white and Anishnaabe people are good and kind, sneaky and terrible. But she does make clear that the incursion of settlement on indigenous territory is changing their way of life in a way that is difficult and sorrowful.

These books are just so nuanced and beautiful. The characters have so much life and personality. You can find them at the public library in every format. And of course, I support buying from local bookstores (Each book is only seven or eight dollars at Third Place). I read one in hard copy, listened to at least one audio book and read several on my e-reader. They are excellent in all the ways, but if you do read instead of listen, you'll also have access to Erdrich's soft pencil-drawn maps and illustrations. I love a book with a map!

If you or your kids do read them, I hope you'll tell me what you think because I could talk about them all day!

Pokemon and Jesus

There are somethings I know way more about after becoming a parent than I ever would have guessed I would know about. And I'm not talking about how to change diapers or help with math homework. I'm taking about things like names of dinosaurs for every letter of the alphabet, the backstories of obscure Marvel superheroes or why the My Little Ponies each have a 'cutie mark' on their butt.

I also know a little something about Pokémon. Now, of all the kid pop-culture things that I know about, Pokémon is actually sort of low on the list. But I didn't know anything about it before kids. And as I was reflecting on the relationship between God and God's people this past week, my mind made a Pokémon connection.

When Mary receives the news that she is going to be the partner to God in bringing Jesus into the world, she proclaims God's favor. When Jesus announces the beginning of his ministry, he too proclaims God's favor. Quoting from the prophet Isaiah her says, "God has sent me to proclaim liberty to those held captive, recovery of sight to those who are blind, and release to those in prison - to proclaim the year of our God's favor."

The thing about being favored is, you might think that it's about getting lucky. And for sure, the people who are being release from captivity probably do feel pretty lucky. But really, the thing or person that's the favorite, is the thing that you keep going back to again and again. Your favorite shirt is the one that you're always happy to pull out of the clean laundry. Your favorite ice cream is your default because you know for sure you won't be disappointed. The teacher's pet (ie. favorite) is the one who always gets called on.

Here's the Pokémon connection. Pikachu is Ash's favorite. (Isn't he everyone's?) For those who aren't familiar, Ash is Pikachu's trainer. Each trainer works together with their Pokémon to battle with other trainers and their Pokémon. Even though Ash has others, Pikachu is the one he always calls on: "Pikachu," he famously declares, "I choose you!"

It's not just Mary and not just Jesus who are God's favored ones. They are part of a favored people and we too are each God's favorites. "I choose you!" God is saying to us even now. What is our response? Obviously not battling our beings with our phenomenal lightening powers. The clue is in Mary's song and Jesus' proclamation. Being God's favored ones means entering the training to bring release to the captive, food to the hungry, lifting up the lowly. Being God's favorite doesn't mean the easy life, but it does mean that God will continue to call on and choose us to be God's own.

All of this might just go to show that a pastor can bring anything back around to Jesus. But may you never see Pikachu the same way again.

The Radical Origins of Mother's Day

As much as I love brunch, bouquets of spring flowers and cards with adorable hand-prints on them, these were not the intended outcome of Mother's Day when it was first suggested. The origins of this day fall to abolitionist, suffragist, author and total boss in petticoats, Julia Ward Howe, who was herself a mother of six. Ward Howe wrote her "Mother's Day Proclamation" in 1870 as a call for mothers of all nations to join in a council of peace, never again to see their sons and husbands lost to the violence and destruction of war.

Ward Howe had not always been a pacifist. In fact she authored the lyrics to The Battle Hymn of the Republic to champion the fight for freedom of enslaved people. But after witnessing the carnage and chaos of the Civil War, her political activities began to include anti-war activism as well as the campaign for suffrage for women and the formerly enslaved.

Here is Ward Howe's proclamation in full. It is still full of fire and passion. I dare you not to be roused!

“Arise, then… women of this day!

Arise, all women who have hearts,

whether our baptism be that of water or of tears!

Say firmly:

We will not have great questions decided by irrelevant agencies.

Our husbands shall not come to us, reeking with carnage,

for caresses and applause.

Our sons shall not be taken from us to unlearn

all that we have been able to teach them of charity, mercy and patience.

We, women of one country, will be too tender of those of another country

to allow our sons to be trained to injure theirs.

From the bosom of the devastated earth a voice goes up with our own.

It says: Disarm, Disarm!

The sword of murder is not the balance of justice.

Blood does not wipe out dishonor,

nor violence vindicate possession.

As men have often forsaken the plough and the anvil

at the summons of war,

let women now leave all that may be left of home

for a great and earnest day of council.

Let them meet first, as women, to bewail and commemorate the dead.

Let them then solemnly take council with each other as to the means

whereby the great human family can live in peace,

each bearing after [their] own kind the sacred impress, not of Caesar,

but of God.

In the name of womanhood and of humanity, I earnestly ask

that a general congress of women, without limit of nationality,

may be appointed and held at some place deemed most convenient,

and at the earliest period consistent with its objects,

to promote the alliance of the different nationalities,

the amicable settlement of international questions,

the great and general interests of peace.“

~ Julia Ward Howe