Covid and Communicating Consent

If there's one thing I'm learning from the recent survey about children's participation in worship and Sunday school (to which you may still respond!) it's that many of you are very hesitant about including children in indoor activities until there is a vaccine available to those under 12. Right now that looks like some point in September.

Until then, we will begin to meet as a congregation, both outdoors and indoors. Many - if not most - of our adults and teens will be vaccinated may be starting to feel pretty okay with closer contact and un-masked interactions (though our current policy will be for everyone to be masked indoors). But children are still vulnerable.

I'm wondering if this is a time to brush up on how we talk about and communicate consent related to our and our kids' space. If you've participated in Zoom worship or listened in afterwards in the past couple of weeks, you'll have heard Pastor Megan preaching the gospel of consent. Because for so long we've been podded with the same folks, we may have grown accustomed to knowing (or thinking we know) the desires and expectations of the people we're with. Now that we're venturing out into the world a little more, we need to negotiate, check in, test assumptions.

Practice helps! The other day on the way to meet up with a friend, my six-year-old was talking about what he was going to tell his friend. While not intentionally hurtful, what he was planning to share might not have gone over that well. I suggested an alternative, so did he. He tried out his new suggestion. We practiced. Having conversations about consent might also look like that: before an encounter, deciding what to say, how to say it in a sensitive way, trying out different ideas. Parents, we might also have to practice how to talk to other parents about our expectations.

Folks, I've shared it before (a long time ago) but it's worth sharing this chart from Liz Kleinrock, an educator and anti-bias, anti-racism trainer. So much of consent is about communication and respect, not just of another person's body but about their autonomy. May we all have both grace and respect for each other. And may this time of increased sensitivity to the vulnerability of others continue to live in us going forward.

Pentecost Birthday Party

Right off the top, I need to apologize for the party blower. I realized as soon as Orie opened the bag and put it in his mouth that I was going to causing a great deal of annoyance for parents of 3-12 year-olds. Why did I even put that in there?? It's a party, that's why!
This week, if you have a kid preschool aged or older, they will receive a package to celebrate the birthday of the church. Not OUR church, but the whole idea of there even being a church. It's when the followers of Jesus shifted. They went from being a small cultish following of a particular guy to being a people who'd never even met or seen Jesus following and believing in a resurrected Christ who'd embodied the non-violent love of God.

Now, you don't have to put it quite that way with the little ones. But I hope that the little booklet that comes with this package will begin to tell that story of how the church was born and why we continue to celebrate today.

Your teens may even have received their envelope already, since teens who don't have a younger sibling will get theirs by mail. Families with younger kids I'll be making drop-offs this weekend. Inside will be a personal birthday cake mix - including frosting and sprinkles.  The Pentecost zine and recipe card - you can make your own mug-cake mix if you're so inclined - and for the elementary set, a balloon and the aforementioned blower (again: sorry.)

Take the opportunity to say the prayer for Pentecost on the back of the zine and give thanks for the things that you are grateful for about church and the presence of Jesus in your life. This is how we build the language of faith. Happy Pentecost! Happy Birthday Church!

Learning to Bless

 The past couple of weeks at the end of my storytime with kids I've use the ASL sign for 'God bless you'.* We've blessed each other as we say goodnight, learning one more way to speak our love without words. ALS signs have become a meaningful way to connect with each other in our congregation, longing as we are for ways to communicate and signal our care for one another.

In the same way that it takes observation, imitation and practice to learn the signs that we have, so we learn the language of faith. Blessings (ASL or not) are one very simple way of speaking our faith out loud. Unlike other other forms of prayer which are directed at God or other form of the Divine, our blessing are directed at the person we share them with. They speak into the presence of God our desire and hopes but are not directed at God. They invite God into the space with us.

Tami Keim, director of the Early Childhood Program at Hesston College, and contributor to the Building Faith blog (Mennonite Early Childhood Network), reminds us that blessings are all over the Bible. If you want to offer a blessing there's no need to make up your own or come up with the words yourself. To paraphrase Lavar Burton: Take a look, they're in a book! I'm a language person and I like getting creative with blessing words, but even I default to scriptural classics when I'm stuck: "May God bless and keep you. May the face of God shine on you and bring you peace." There's nothing like it.

When we speak blessings, we get used to having the language of faith in our own mouths and we model the use of this language to our kids. In the same post that Tami talks about the blessings in the Bible, she suggests a daily blessings at bedtime (she even created this handy list of blessings you could print). I do like the idea of daily blessings, but teens who go to bed later than their parents (only me?) get left out with that particular suggestion - though it's a good one - and there's no bad time to bless. Morning blessing over breakfast? Great! Blessing as you log into school? Sure!

I also like to mark special or difficult or new experiences with blessing. The beginning of school is a time to bless our children with courage and wisdom. A new bike might be cause to bless a child with safety and the joy of the ride. A blessing for patience and grace would be appropriate when they're going through a hard time with a friend or sibling.

*In this link, start at the 0:50 mark if you really don't want to watch the whole 2 minutes, but I love this pastor and have watched several of her signing tutorials. She's kind of awesome, so you probably won't be sorry if you watch the whole thing.   

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Photo by Sai De Silva on Unsplash

Police and Prisons, Our Kids and Ourselves

I got a new picture book this week: Milo Imagines the World, a collaboration between two of my favorites: author Matt de la Pena and illustrator Christian Robinson. In it, a kid named Milo and his sister are on a long ride on the subway. It's an opportunity for Milo to imagine and draw the lives of all the people he sees, including a boy about his own age. Readers discover that Milo and his sister - and the other boy - are on their way to a correctional facility, where they are going to visit their mom. The way that de la Pena gives language to the emotions that Milo is feeling is poetry ("These monthly subway rides are never ending, and as usual, Milo is a shook-up soda.) And Robinson brings life and not only to Milo, but to Milo's imagination.

Milo's journey to the prison is also a journey of realization. When he sees that the other little boy, who he had imagined as someone who's experience was very different from his own, is heading for the same destination he is, Milo understands that the way he imagines the people in the subway might be way off and the pictures he made of them might have been all wrong! Readers begin to see that the ideas that we have about people - including people in prison - might also be based on biases or false narratives. You can read more about Milo at Social Justice Books, or listen to Christian Robinson talk about the book and illustrations on Vimeo (4:33-10:28 are particularly relevant).

At the same time as I'm enjoying Milo, I'm also reading We Do This Till we Free Us, essays on abolition by Miriam Kaba (much more slowly than the rest of the church book group, though I'm grateful they still let me listen in). Kaba writes about seeking justice beyond prison and punishment, building community as an alternative to policing, and transforming how we deal with harm and accountability. I'm not the only adult right now who's beginning to get on board with the idea of police and prison abolition. This awakening in our country is also happening in our denomination. Y'all may already have heard of the curriculum on abolition that MCUSA has created to help churches explore this idea.

But what about kids? The prevailing narrative in dominant culture is that police are the 'good guys.' They are here to help and keep everyone safe. From Paw Patrol to Brooklyn 99 (two programs popular with the young people in my family) media reinforces this narrative. Cops might be goofy or bumbling but are ultimately well intentioned and uphold justice with care. White children especially, who may rarely have had an encounter with police, don't have this narrative interrupted.

We know, though, that not every child does have life-experience to backs up the cultural narrative. Garfield Highschool teacher Jesse Hagopian tweeted last year about an assignment that his first grade son was asked to complete. The assignment invited students to read a page entitled "Police Protect Us" and then answer questions about the reading:

What are some of the things that police officers do? They pepper spray people like when they sprayed my dad.
Why do you think a police officer’s job is important? Nurses, doctors and ambulances are important, but not police!
What would be another good title for this story? Police don’t protect us.

In fact police had not protected this boy and his family. He and many other children have the experience that police threaten and/or do violence and harm to them and their communities.

In parallel to the dominant narrative about police being good, the narrative about prisons and the people in them is that the only reason people go to jail or to prison is that they're bad. Books like Milo make it clear that people in prison are loved and love others, have families, like to read stories and have dreams. They might be there because of limited choices, because they didn't have money to pay for representation or to pay bail, because of complications related to addiction - like illustrator Christian Robinson's own mom.

Milo Imagines the World is one of very few books that give children like Milo a mirror in which to see themselves and children like mine a window through which they can experience understanding and empathy. In addition to her writing and advocacy for and with adults, Kaba also wrote the picture book Missing Daddy because of her frustration finding materials that can help children deal with the “loss, grief, and trauma” of having a parent incarcerated. And there's a list of more books that address policing and prison at Social Justice Books which includes books for children as well as teens and adults.

Though I've been fumbling through attempting to interrupt the narrative about police in myself and my kids for awhile, I still find it helpful to hear new ideas. For example I found a post from the Oakland Public Library on Evaluating Children's Books about Police very helpful and applicable beyond just book and beyond just children. It offers language and questions to test when watching, reading or encountering other media. I also found the teaching guide created by Penguin Classroom helpful; the questions it asks of the books (it includes the author/illustrators other two collaborations as well) are questions we could ask of our own experiences and assumptions as well.

My learning curve now with myself and my family is in trying on ideas about alternatives to police and punishment. It's continuing to build alternatives to policing by creating stronger communities and connections, building empathy and resilience, practicing alternatives to punishment and adopting transformative practices in my own life. I look forward to our congregation continuing to deepen our understanding of the movement to abolish prison and policing.

I will certainly be engaging with the MCUSA curriculum and will likely adapt it to use with youth in fall or winter. I'd be curious if there are parents interested in working through it together with an eye toward how we talk to our children.If you are interested in practical alternatives to police and punishment you can use right now, check out Seattle Area Alternatives to Calling 911 and If You See Something, DO Something: 12 Things to do instead of calling the cops . May we all work together for a just peace!

We voted! Now what?

One of the fascinating things about having the classroom in my living room has been the window into what teachers and students talk about and how teachers are building a classroom culture and community. It's also been a huge learning experience for me in pedagogy. How do you respond to questions? How do you encourage taking turns? How do affirm ideas and encourage critical thinking.

This week and last, I've been listening in on the Southshore kindergarteners talking about voting and the election. They started with the book Grace for President, in which Grace notices that there are no women in the row of pictures of presidents, decides to run for president of her class and then shows her leadership ability through her contributions to her school and community.

The kindergarteners were encouraged to notice in the words and pictures the kind of person Grace is, what good leadership looks like, how her words matched her actions. In subsequent days their class moved on to comparing real life candidates. First for Washington's 37th district and then for president. She presented points of the candidates platforms and then the children were invited to think about who they would vote for. I appreciate the respect that our schools teachers have for children's opinions and the way they encourage them to say more, ask questions and challenge each other - even in kindergarten.

Two years ago I wrote about voting and the election with annoyance. I was annoyed both because at the time I couldn't vote and because I was frustrated with what I felt was the implication that voting is the only way one can participate in democracy or enact change. My opinion has changed somewhat - at least a little and at least in part because I can vote now - but I stand by a few of the things I said then.

What has changed in 2020 is that, yes I can vote now but also there truly is much more at stake. What hasn't changed is my understanding how much more there is to engaging in change for justice than voting. I think this is a message particularly important for children and youth to hear. After all, they can't vote. And yet their voices are so important to our communities. Even kindergarteners have opinions about what's important. And they can march and make signs and write reps and get educated and post to social media.

The other thing that hasn't changed and that will never change is that nationhood is not what defines us as followers of Jesus. And it's our desire for a just peace is rooted in the Biblical call to justice. And that something that none of our kids aren't going to get in their classrooms, no matter how well they're being formed as citizens.

It's up to us as families and as a church family to tell the stories of Jesus and other biblical characters who interrupted for the sake of justice: Jesus' crossing boundaries to sit with the woman at the well and telling stories of good Samaritans. Peter sharing God's love with the Ethiopian eunuch. The prophets demanding justice that rolls like water. Whatever this week brings, our work as citizens and as disciples continues in our families and in our communities. May God bless us in this holy calling.

Just Enough for Today

You know, having said it so often, that we don't choose our preaching texts, and that the Narrative Lectionary really throws us some curveballs sometimes. This Sunday, when we're readying to celebrate a baptism, is no exception. The symbolic receiving of renewed life through an outpouring of water on the same day when our scripture is rooted in the arid dryness of water withheld. God's anger has been raised at the king Abah, worshiper of foreign gods - in particular Baal, the god of thunder, rain and fertility - and God has caused the land and sky to dry up.

Baptism or no, we begin our story in drought and famine. An international crisis of epic proportion. Death is every present. Anxiety and fear are the norm. Now this sounds pretty familiar. We don't choose our texts, but there is something about this story that feels very real. In the midst of this drough we meet a woman in Zarephath. She seems to be the head of her household, so once she may have been wealthy or at least self-sufficient but at the point when we meet her she is beyond hope. She is very matter of fact about it: "I am going to make a meal for myself and my child." She says. "We will eat it - and then we will die."

This is a mother who is at the end of her rope. She is trying to weather a drought, she is responsible for a household, she is caring for her child. She is weary and fearful. She is ready to die. And Elijah the prophet comes along with the gall to make another demand of her - two demands! First, give me some water! Now, give me something to eat!

The mom in me wants to ask him, "Now, how to ask for something politely??" I do hear the weariness and exasperation in this mom's voice. The defeatism: I literally have a handful of flour and enough oil for a meager meal for myself and my child before we starve to death. Seriously?

Now I am a person of relatively stable mental health. And I have good resources and pretty reasonable practices of self care. But even I have days during this famine of COVID where I am at the point of collapse. And I know that there are those among us who are truly struggling with diagnosed mental illness and feeling hopeless. For y'all, I pray that you will find the resources that you need.

Though that is not me, there are days when it feels like there is so little left in me to give, that all I'm experiencing is a string of demands (some of you may identify) - meetings, newsletters and sermons to write, of course. But also kindergarten to supervise and homework to help with, meals to provide and care to offer, the constant stream of demands, "Mom, look at this." "Mom, I need…" "Mom, can I have…" "Mom, give me…" If Elijah had come along to me, when I'm down to the last of my emotional and physical resources I might have answered something like the widow did: I'm already starving to death! And if he'd said - as he did to her, "Do not fear, just make me a cake." I might have laughed like loon.


On this All Saints Day, truly, I recognize this woman as a Saint. Because she does not laugh like a wild thing. She believes him. A stranger to her and a foreigner. She believes him when he says, when you help me, God will provide enough for all of us each day. Today, and tomorrow, and then the day after, and the day after and the day after, until this drought is at an end. She believes him. And she offers hospitality from the last of her supplies.

Though I may have a hard time hearing the words, "Do not fear," there actually is something comforting about the idea of just having to make it through today and then tomorrow will have enough for tomorrow. And the next day, enough for that day. Between Elijah and the widow and her son and household, they create a little famine bubble - a bubble in which each day they make it until the next day.

Part of what helps them make it to the end of the day is that tiny community they've formed. And I have absolutely found a way to make it each day when I've been in community with some of y'all - whether that's a corn maze with some jr youth and their families, or talking to children in Sunday school or dropping by with meals for families. Some days it's a choice for baptism and community in the middle of a pandemic. It's the joy of seeing someone choose hope and new life. It doesn't fill me up. None of it will completely satisfy. I know it doesn't fill y'all up either. But it gets me through today.

Friends, I had a really good day or two this week. And I had tears this week. That's the way our days go now. This week especially, when our hopes and our anxieties are especially heightened, I truly pray that you will find each day the meal that you need to live through that day. That you will reach out to people and that people you need will reach out to you. May your flour jar and jug of oil have enough - just enough to make it to the end of this famine that we're all in together. Amen.

Troublemaker Saints

 

As someone who regularly uses picture books in my roles as parent and pastor, I follow multiple social media accounts that help me find books for children. I look for books that marry themes of justice and God's love, diversity in characters and inspiring stories.  So a couple years ago when I came across a Kickstarter to support an author who was trying to publish a book about unconventional saints, it seemed like a no-brainer.

Often the way we think about a saint is that it's someone who's larger than life, holier than your average human and with an extra-ordinary connection to the divine.  Someone who's golden halo reflects the soft light of candles or the fire of their zeal.  A saint is definitely dead.

Daneen Akers' book, Holy Troublemakers and Unconventional Saints redefines - or maybe reclaims - the notion of saints as those who "are people of faith who have worked for love, compassion and justice in their corners of the world and eras, even when that meant rocking the religious boat…[T]hey used their faith to work for the good of everyone."  With this re-claimed definition, sainthood is bestowed upon those whose lives help us connect to God and to the world with our hearts more open.

Akers' book is a thick anthology of such saints.  Though some, like Francis of Assisi or Fred Rogers or Rachel Held Evans are dead, many of the people in Holy Troublemakers are still living and (in their saintly human way) leading their communities with wisdom and compassion.  Potawatomi theologian and writer Kaitlin Curtis grounds her faith in her identity as an indigenous person, the Rev. Dr. Wil Gafney's scholarship is known for its womanist interpretations of scripture, Lisbeth Meléndez Rivera has been an activist for the LGBTQ folks for almost 40 years and is active in the Rainbow Catholics organization, seeking welcome and affirmation for the people in her community.

This Sunday is All Saints Day. On this day we remember and name those beloved who have died.  All Saints is also the time to reflect on those people past and present who help point our way to the love, justice and compassion of God.  Those people whose lives inspire us to love justice and compassion ourselves.  We all have holy troublemakers in our lives, unconventional saints who have influenced us for the better and strengthened our faith. 

My hope is that we can share the stories of saints in this book and those like them with our kids.  Stories of family saints, saints of our communities.  Akers notes that since she ditched conservative Christianity, it's been hard to find stories and devotional literature for kids that help point them toward God's desire for them.  In this book she fills that gap.  But we can also fill the gap, at least a little, with our own creativity and narratives. In this All Saints week, may we tell stories of unconventional saints, share their work and follow in their footsteps.