PeaceBang

Where’s The Emerson Bio-Pic We’ve Been Waiting For?

Could someone please make it their summer project to write a great screenplay about Mr. Emerson and his buds? We’ve just had this great HBO series on John Adams, so why not Waldo, HUH? Carlos Baker’s book Emerson Among the Eccentrics would give an enterprising writer plenty of good starting material (not that execrable waste of trees by Susan Cheever; who in hell was her fact-checker?) and there are loads of good roles for great actors!

I mean, isn’t it time that we got Sam Waterston on board with this? He’s my choice to play RWE. I’ll let you nominate your own choices for characters like Thoreau, Walt Whitman (cameo), Margaret Fuller, Lydian Emerson, the Peabody sisters, Nathaniel Hawthorne, Bronson Alcott, and Horace Mann.

Chris Walton, you’re going to be home a lot this summer with the baby, aren’t you? We can DO this thing!

NOW IS THE TIME Strong-Arming

Friends,
I am not trying to be a trouble-maker here, but since there are so few forums for Unitarian Universalist laymen and women and ministers to speak frankly together about Associational issues of concern, I thought it worthy to pull this comment from “Rev E” from the previous post and to invite further reflections on her experience:

I don’t see many comments about PeaceBang’s lead-in, which was the tremendous pressure put on us clergy last year to hold an “Association Sunday,” and help raise funds for the UUA’s “Now Is the Time” campaign.

Although it’s slightly off-topic, I’d like to weigh in as a minister who *did* designate the UUA as the recipient of our regular “half basket” giveaway (in October), but who bitterly resented the UUA’s process & tone during its campaign, for the following reasons:

1. It’s not an exaggeration to say that I felt downright harassed by the UUA, and in particular by Stephan Papa’s team (whom I’ve dubbed the “Papa Posse”). They literally chased me down the corridors of Portland’s convention center, left many high-pressure voice mails for me at the office, and otherwise insinuated the primacy of their project into the fabric of my congregation. I don’t think my experience was unique; many of us were virtually strong-armed into either holding an Association Sunday, or defending our (unpopular) decision not to.

2. UUA material crowed about the need for money for “growth” and “advertising.” Like PeaceBang, I’m not thrilled with the content of our TIME magazine ads, but I’m satisfied enough with the sheer publicity. When I received detailed information about the funds raised, however, only in the small print was it mentioned that 25% of those monies would be given to congregations with ministers of color. Ministers of color? FINE. Admirable, even, for an Association with a commitment to anti-racism & multiculturalism. But it’s the *process*, people! Don’t tell me that 25% of a stated goal of one million dollars (!) falls under the category of “publicity.” I still feel misled by the UUA’s lack of transparency around the use of those funds.

3. Call me a fool, but I honestly thought that Association Sunday was a one-time deal. Perhaps I just wasn’t paying attention. Now that I understand that the UUA expects this to be an annual event, I just feel weary. The only silver lining in this gray cloud of disappointment is that my District has chosen to distribute its “Now Is the Time” payout back to us, the congregations, in the form of grants.

Thanks to all in the PeaceBang community for your thought-provoking comments, and all that I learn from you.

Thank you for your honest critique, Rev. E, wherever you are. I echo your sentiments. I was also very put off by the strong-armed tactics used by “the Papa Posse,” and will not fall prey to them again. “Fool me once…” and so on. I must also be naive, because I assumed that NOW IS THE TIME/Association Sunday was a one-shot deal, and will have to speak with my lay leaders about the implications of an annual expectation that we do this. I personally don’t intend to support a second big additional gift to the UUA for advertising or anything else in the coming fiscal year. I want to know much more about how the monies raised last year were/are being spent, and to what good end.

And in case I wasn’t clear about this: I think it truly offensive for the UUA to leave messages on any minister’s private study line requesting that we call a UUA staffer to discuss our participation in a fund-raising campaign for them. The barrage of e-mails and mailings we also received were overkill and thoroughly obnoxious (and how much did they cost??)

Again, if this sort of campaign happens on a rare occasion and has clearly exciting outcomes, I’ll tolerate it with little grumbling. But to hear that “Association Sunday” may be an annual expectation is not only exhausting, it is very upsetting (perhaps we’d like to vote as congregations on this? How many of us want to pay for what amounts to piles of junk mail generated by NOW IS THE TIME?), and I hope it’s not true. Our congregations serve the good of the Association by being strong, well-regarded local congregations, by giving our fair share in dues for the services we receive from HQ, and by sending a team of committed delegates to our General Assembly. Requests for gifts above and beyond these should be few, far-between, and made with far more respect and less pushy, cheerleadery, “All the cool kids are doing it! CMON, quit worryin’ about all those pesky details about how we’ll spend the money” fervor. Like I said, fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, not gonna happen.

Oh Happy Day

Easter is coming, friends!

This song has gotten me through some of the dreariest moments in my life over the past years. The Edwin Hawkins Singers, ladies and gentlemen. Blessings and may your day rock.

Lunar Eclipse

I couldn’t get the photo to come out clear, but here’s a little slice of what it was like the other night during the lunar eclipse. We had just come out of “Jesus for Unitarian Universalists” and the moon was almost entirely shrouded in purply-dark. What a magical wintery moment it was.

Re-entry Mode And Thoughts On Romantic Timing

Hello ‘Bangers,

Here’s hoping that you’re all well and staying warm.

I am in re-entry mode after a lovely Florida vacation, courtesy of some very generous friends who gave me and a colleague pal the use of their condo. I’m not officially back to work until Tuesday which is nice and gives me some time to unpack, do the grocery shopping, and to curse the gods for their obnoxious sense of humor.

It’s just that, you see, Cupid got out one of his biggest, baddest arrows while I was away and hit me and a perfectly innocent other party with it, so now there’s a little jet stream of romance mojo moving north and south between Massachusetts and Southern Florida. A convenient 1,555 miles apart, that’s all. Well, we’ll see. And he doesn’t even own a computer, so there’s no chance of him seeing this, in case you were worried.

If you’ve been reading this blog for any amount of time, you’ve been through a few romances with me. Well, let’s say that you’ve been through about 100 bad dates alluded to, sporadic musings on the loneliness of the single life, and many reflections on the special challenges of the single minister.

I have tried not to chronicle every twinge of “gee, I might have met someone special” with my readers — because SisterBang and other pals have always been there to indulge those insecure, ad infinitum ramblings with — and also because no one needs to hear about the ups and downs of a clergywoman’s mostly non-existent dating life and romantic rejections . It’s neither appropriate nor interesting.

But let me offer this: I believe that chemistry is real and that it matters. I believe that kindred spirits and soul mates are real. I believe that we spend many years believing in the well-meant but totally cock-eyed interpretation of us handed down by family lore and old relationships, and that as soon as we jettison all that — really flush it down the toilet for good, it is possible for love to come, and to last. It is that latter process — not having a baby, not getting married, not getting our first paycheck — that makes us truly adult, and makes us truly free for true love to find us.

I have no idea if my new friend from Florida will be a true love. I’m not speaking of what is, but what I believe could be — if not now, maybe later. If not for me, God willing, for thee.

It takes a tremendous amount of work and effort to understand, accept and really know ourselves — to consider the input from those who know us (or think they do) along with our own knowledge of self, and to come up with an accurate and fair assessment of our own character and soul, needs, wants and responsibilities. It takes even harder work than that to hold that authentic person in affectionate and compassionate care, to move beyond the fear and woundedness that comes from being disappointed and treated insensitively, to stop dwelling on past failures, and to trust that God truly has made a unique and precious gift in us that deserves to be honored, and whose deepest recesses are known only to the silent soul. These private places of the soul should not be pried open by curious onlookers or cold-hearted Lotharios who pursue profound confidences in the same fashion that the paparazzi pursue the latest lurid photos of Britney Spears.

Many women have been socialized to gather the opinions of their friends and family when it comes to every subject from how to make a particular recipe, to what they should wear on a first date, to whether or not they should marry, to what career they should pursue next. This kind of intimate and constant gab can be deeply bonding and intimate, but it can also breed the exhaustion and mild contempt that comes with over-exposure to someone else’s vulnerability. At times the best thing for a woman is to cut off, or to be taken off this kind of life-support (however cruel that sounds) and to stand in her own truth for awhile. Not just to cultivate wisdom through spiritual practice and attention to her intuition (which she should be doing already), but to actively assess and, if need be, reject the version of herself assembled by her circle of intimates and to shore up her confidence in the true version; the woman she finally, after many years of hard and honest work, knows she is.

How can I ask someone to love me for better or for worse, unless I can love and accept myself through my own better or worse? Cliched to say it, but I owe my true friends the gift of finally getting it through my thick head that even at our “worst,” we all deserve to be treated sensitively and with compassion, and that love at its most basic means sticking-by. The lesson has finally stuck. Thanks, pals. You know who you are. What Jesus has been trying to convince me of for all these years, you have made real. Wouldn’t it be nice to have the opportunity to practice that spiritual discipline with a Sig Other?

Let’s just say this: if I do ever find true love I would want it to be just like this: during a time of radical emotional freedom and healing, of feeling particularly clear on who I am, what I need and how I want and expect to love and be loved. So no matter what happens with this particular conflagration, as the old song goes, “They Can’t Take That Away From Me.”

Oh, and you know that check-list that so many of us carry around in our heads about who we think we should be with? I’m re-assessing my approach to that. My checklist used to have 40 or so items on it. Now it has about 12:

My Ideal Mate

1. Should be kind and considerate.
2. Should know how to love and be loved, and that includes honesty, trust and loyalty.
3. Should have a great sense of humor.
4. Intelligence.
5. Some kind of cultural interests and talents.
6. Charisma.
7. Be attractive to me.
8. Be attracted to me.
9. Have nice manners.
10. Not be an active addict or criminal.
11. Be politically progressive and actively involved in a spiritual practice or community.
12. Makes my heart go thumpety-thump.

Her Works Go Before Her

Best reason to take to your bed today.

Just another courageous, feisty broad forever silenced by bullets. Lord have mercy.

A Mouse On A Cat On A Dog

[I wrote this for a church newsletter column in 2000. It’s still one of my favorites. Enjoy - VW]

A Mouse On A Cat On A Dog

After a lunch appointment one day last year in downtown Washington, DC, I walked around a corner and smack into this little street tableau:
A slightly grimy but very kindly man with a handsome black dog.
On top of the black dog sat a brown striped tabby cat, imperious in expression and languorous in repose.
On top of the brown striped tabby cat sat a white mouse, as dignified as a white mouse can manage to be.

All of the critters seemed a tiny bit uncomfortable but mostly gentle and self-respecting. If they minded being the center of attention they certainly didn’t show it, except for a brief moment when the cat leaped off the dog’s back to the pavement, groomed one paw, and then jumped back up to her furry perch (the mouse had to be helped back up).
“What’s going on here?” asked passersby, including a TV cameraman.

“I’m just trying to show that everyone can get along,” said the man. The dog, the cat and the mouse seemed to nod in agreement.
People stopped to stare, suspicious, waiting for the punch line, the gimmick, the appeal for money. Their silence challenged the man, who shifted his feet and bit and said well yes, he would also like to encourage people to adopt animals from their local shelter.

A cranky young businessman appeared on the scene next to me. “What is THIS?” he scowled. “I think it’s something about world peace,” I replied. “What’s the catch?” he asked. “I don’t think there is one,” I answered, surprised by a lump in my throat. He rolled his eyes at me and hurried off.

But I stayed for a long while, just plain happy to be in the company of the three gentle animals and the gentle man. It worked. It worked as a metaphor, it worked as street theatre, it worked as worship, it worked as non-violent protest. A mouse on a cat on a dog. Simple; not at all easy. Just like world peace.

Hark How the Bells

I attended a lovely concert of Christmas music this morning at church, but the thing is, I wasn’t at all in the spirit. The woman’s ensemble was really excellent — they always are — and I just sat there feeling guilty for having arrived late and for not being angelically appreciative of being there, just rarin’ to get into the office and GET SOME WORK DONE. As many pastors recognize, this is a seasonal event that goes with the call at this particular congregation and the one time I missed it I felt lousy about it, just wrong. We have this concert and then the Alliance has their holiday luncheon with those sandwiches on crustless white bread that you can eat 100 of if they let you. I think I ate between 8-10. I would have gone back for more of the roast beef ones, seriously. So it’s the whole morning and by the time you get into the office you’re in a carb-induced bloat and need a nap even though you have a scary long list of things that need doing.

Anyway, when the choir ladies brought out the handbells during the concert this morning I definitely perked up because I love handbells. To be more specific, I love handbells when they’re played imperfectly, because the times I have tried to play in a handbell ensemble I became a nervous wreck and clanged away at all the wrong times and for some reason that strikes me as hilariously funny. So this is what I hope for when the handbells come out: that someone will mess up and then the next person will mess up and there will be this gentle, melodious train wreck of sound coming from these earnestly lovely people with white gloves on who are just trying, dammit, to make the music of the angels.

To my great and tender delight, not only did the last song slowly degenerate into such a confused cacophony of off-rhythm BONGing that the director had to stop the gals and give it a second go, I caught one of the ladies in the first row mouthing an alarmed OH Jesus as she made the first of the mistakes. Lady, whoever you are, you totally made my day and possibly my entire Christmas season. I’m thinking of her now with her pretty white hair and pristine gloves, and her festive red vest going oh Jesus and she is my Special Advent Favorite.

In other silly things that make me unaccountably happy at this time of year, there’s this.

Ready to Love Again

Doesn’t that sound like some kind of corny Lifetime movie channel thing?

Which reminds me of one of my favorite true stories. Some years ago I was on a fun weekend outing in Williamsburg, VA with Scott Wells (TheBoyInTheBands) and we were in our hotel room unpacking. We turned on the television set and ignored it while we chatted and put our things away. At some point I asked, “What channel is this, anyway?” And Scott replied, “Oh, it’s probably Lifetime Channel or something.” “Naw,” I said. “If it was Lifetime it would be a movie about Mare Winningham as an abused wife fleeing her sociopathic husband.” Scott grabbed the remote control and turned on the volume just in time to hear the actor on screen say in a sinister fashion to another actor, “Are you insinuating the I BEAT MY WIFE?” Moments later, Mare Winningham came on screen. We laughed so hard I threw my back out.

ANYWAY, Ready To Love Again isn’t a Lifetime channel movie. It’s SisterBang’s excitement over this little gal born on November 10th:

Some people say when their dog dies that they can never have another dog because it hurts too much to lose the first one. I can understand that, and I respect it. But SisterBang and I both feel that doggies need loving people to care for them and that if you’ve made room in your life for a dog, it’s a wonderful thing to just keep welcoming them for as long as you can, if you can. Gordon was such an extension of SisterBang’s life — the rhythms of her days and weekends were synced to his needs. They were a team. Watching him decline from a robust, shiny-coated canine stud to a deaf and blind, winter-faced, creaky old gentleman was very hard on both of them. He was such a good boy, pushing himself to stay active and to engage with her until he was just too sick to do so. It hurt her terribly to watch him suffer. She will miss him always.

But all kinds of dogs need homes, and SisterBang has been talking to breeders of miniature dachsunds for some time now in preparation for the time she would no longer have Gordon (who was a shelter dog). She may be going to get this pup in February and I’m so happy for both of them. Look at those ear buds! And just imagine the puppy smell.

Wouldn’t it be great if the love between humans was so pure and uncomplicated that, after the loss of one relationship we would feel bruised but immediately ready to love someone again? Cripes, I didn’t dare date for about 6-7 years after the end of my last terrible, tumultuous relationship with a man who turned out to be a pathological liar and a cheating skunk. I figured if my judgment had been that poor (couldn’t have been worse unless it had been a Lifetime Channel character), I shouldn’t trust myself to fall in love with anyone. I haven’t since, and that little debacle was over in 1997. But there’s no need to do that with dogs. Dogs don’t have baggage — if you love them enough and can devote enough time to them, you’re pretty much guaranteed a true romance.

On The Thanksgiving Playlist

I just burned the CD for dinner. On it:

Squirrel Nut Zippers “The Suits Are Picking Up the Bill”
Harry Connick, Jr. “Pure Imagination/Candy Man”
Ray Charles “How Long Has This Been Going On”
Lisa Stansfield “Down in the Depths on the 90th Floor”
Bette Midler “Birds” and “Come On-A My House”
kd lang “Summer Fling”
Nina Simone “I Put A Spell On You” and “Love Me Or Leave Me”
Cab Calloway “The Jumpin’ Jive”
Eva Cassidy “Hallelujah, I Love Him So”
kd land and Tony Bennett “Wonderful World”
U2 “In A Little While”
Klea Blackhurst “You’re An Old Smoothie”
Elis Regina “Canto De Ossanha”
Rufus Wainwright “I Don’t Know What It Is”
Pink Martini “Let’s Never Stop Falling In Love”
MIKA “Love Today”
Lena Horne “I’m Glad There Is You”
John Legend “PDA”
Fascinao “Tapas”

I love this part of Thanksgiving planning. And it is perhaps a good time to tell you that I have a Mog (a music blog) at http://mog.com/peacebang.

What’s rocking your ears lately?