Telling the Truth

connecting the dots of my life

Tag: Theology

My Reclamation Project | Part 2 of 2

Jazz-music-seamless-pattern--Stock-Vector-jazz-pattern-guitar

Several things stand out in my dream:

  • It’s early morning; I’m walking uphill, not downhill. (encouraging signs)
  • Though I don’t describe it, I’m wearing shoes. I’m not barefoot. (encouraging sign)
  • I’m in a semi-official capacity without being the leader of the team. (I like this)
  • My father is doing something I never saw him do in his entire life. (It astonishes me)
  • Three themes stand out: reclamation, improvisation and music. (How are they connected?)
  • The sound of music is important in the dream. (Yay!)
  • At least one of my sisters appears in the dream. (I’m surprised)
  • My instruction to team members takes an unexpected theological turn. (I’m speechless)

Assumptions I’ve made:

  • All participants in this dream, including me, are reclamation projects.
  • The team will do for others what others did for them–reclaim persons put out with the trash.
  • I’m not part of the team, and I’m not in charge. Someone sent me to do a task, not to lead the team.
  • My task won’t take forever; it’s the last phase of orientation for new team members.

Two questions came to mind right after I woke up:

  • Is this about blogging? Lately I’ve had several dreams about blogging.
  • Why did I go all theological with the team there at the end?

Here’s how I’m thinking about the dream today.
I’m one of Jesus’ reclamation projects. I also have countless others to thank for helping pick me up from various trash heaps.

Some trash heaps were designed specifically for women. Sometimes I seem to have chosen a trash heap on my own. I say it that way because part of being reclaimed means understanding the dynamics of coercion, seduction and being set up for failure. Nonetheless, I’ve been reclaimed many times over.

In fact, it’s reassuring that this team is going to look for discards (people). I’m happy others are out there looking. Maybe they’ll find me again someday.

My father was a great improviser. Not of music, but of solutions to things that didn’t work properly (machines, not people). He kept a shed and back yard full of what some people would call ‘junk.’ The kinds of things Depression-era women and men valued for their as yet unknown future use.

So here I am, a reclaimed woman, musician and now a blogger who happens to be a theologian. What do I offer women and men who visit and read what I write? And where does my ‘junk’ come from?

I offer the mostly improvised music of my heart, mind and soul. I use memories, bits and pieces of knowledge I’ve collected, old photos, new photos, and other people’s writings that move me. I also use my experience, including what happened and happens to me on the inside. Things like secrets and less-than-beautiful behaviors.

I can’t do this alone. I need others who show me how they do it, or who ask me tough questions. I need to hear them play their music. It doesn’t matter whether it’s overtly theological or not. If it moves me, it rings true. It brings joy, tears, thoughtfulness, challenge, clarity of sight, grief and sadness, or the knowledge that I’m alive and not alone.

As a blogger, my reclamation project is about recovering parts of my life that got trashed along the way, internally and externally. It’s also about being alert for pieces of your lives that inspire me to write yet more unscripted posts that reclaim some of my personal ‘junk.’

Whether it comes from you or from me, it’s music. It doesn’t banish the pain of life, or focus only on what’s beautiful to divert attention from what’s real. Rather, it’s music that accompanies all of life, inviting both sadness and joy to be heard, heeded and shared.

My father’s unexpected improvisation on his guitar is a sign. It shows what can happen when other music, especially from strangers, inspires me to improvise songs I didn’t know I’d lost along the way.

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 26 August 2015
Image from 123RF.com

Why can’t I stop writing? | Part 1

The more I write, the more I want to write.  Do I have a life outside of blogging?  Absolutely.  Yet it seems I can’t stop writing.

Why can’t I stop writing? – Answer #1
Writing is the way I Read the rest of this entry »

“When I no more can stir. . .”

Late last week I felt like a dry well.  Not sure what I wanted to write next for the blog.  I decided Read the rest of this entry »

My heart still pounds | Part 3 of 3

What happened next
When I finished reading my statement, I felt exposed, apprehensive, and relieved that I’d finally put my thoughts together and said them out loud. Read the rest of this entry »

My heart still pounds | Part 2 of 3

My heart still pounds when I relive this event.
Here’s what I read to my male colleagues, lightly edited for clarity.
_____

I want to let you know why I’ve chosen not to attend these faculty fellowship gatherings.  It’s about me.  In particular, it’s about my almost intolerable level of personal discomfort, accompanied by my sense of a being in a highly charged atmosphere in which I am now supposed to be ‘spiritual.’

  • I don’t know when to laugh.  The sign of this is that I sometimes want to cry when others are laughing.
  • I want to lament when others are praising.
  • I feel strange when those around me give every sign of feeling at home.

At my university, there was virtually no community spirituality.  This was uncomfortable and strange to me.  Here at the seminary, there’s much excitement and fervor about community spirituality.  This, too, I find strange and uncomfortable.

  • I want to name and give voice to my spirituality.  It’s deeply rooted in my Christian feminism and history with my sisters [other women].  It’s also rooted in my theology, and has the capacity for being as disturbing and controversial as any theological position might be.
  • I need to name this spirituality because of what seems to be an unspoken assumption that if my spirituality is different from the reigning spirituality, then I have no spirituality.
  • I must name this spirituality because I can no longer keep silent.

First, two statements about what spirituality is not:

  • Spirituality is not a human capacity whereby we ‘get in touch’ with God by means of various so-called spiritual disciplines.
  • Spirituality is not something we do—except insofar as we respond to something.

Put positively,

  • Spirituality is the event of the Holy Spirit in our midst.  It’s a happening in which God comes to us not in familiar, comfortable ways, but as a disturbing reality that challenges us at the point of our concrete need.

Here’s a more descriptive statement.  For me, spirituality is about the following:

  • Being awakened, coming to life, and purposefully incorporating all of human life into a shared vision of God and the world
  • Having my eyes open to human life, to what’s going on around me
  • Being awakened by God who comes to me in the form of my least favorite neighbor
  • Being introduced to a world of pain and suffering to which I cannot close my eyes
  • Striving with God, giving vocal expression to my outrage, my frustration, my despair
  • Being willing to give this vocal expression not just in the presence of God, but in the presence of my sisters and my brothers
  • Allowing the pain and anger to be there, without quick and easy resolutions
  • Being willing to live for a long time out of a vision of reality that is daily called into question

Spirituality is more than the event of the Holy Spirit opening our eyes.  It’s also a language that we speak.  However, I find myself surrounded by language that doesn’t reflect my spirituality.  This is what I hear:

  • Language about retreat from the world
  • Language that suggests life is a distraction – something we need to shut out
  • Language that denies expression to feelings of pain and suffering, but calls instead for talk of joy and unity that I don’t always see
  • Language that suggests our academic work could ever be anything but an expression who we are before God and before each other
  • Language that sets ‘us’ apart from ‘them’— from people out there in the real world
  • Language preoccupied with the inner self, in seeming isolation from concrete relationships 

This language disturbs me, largely because I feel no freedom to challenge it openly.

When we’re dealing with theological positions, we seem to do better at inviting dialogue.  But when we’re dealing with spirituality, I sense that the shape of spirituality has been precut.  Those who don’t fit the garment are at best misfits, at worst not ‘in the Spirit.’

In the end, my spirituality has to do with becoming acutely aware of the humanity of others and of myself—and of God in all of this.  It’s an awareness born of involvement in life, not an awareness that leads to involvement.

My goal, then, is to stay exactly what I already am–human, within the real world like everyone else, not separated out into a ‘more spiritual’ world.

_____

In a last post, I’ll comment about what happened next and what I’ve learned from this experience.  Stay tuned!

© Elouise Renich Fraser, 11 January 2015

My heart still pounds | Part 1

Nearly 30 years later, my heart still pounds loudly when I relive this event.  It’s early fall 1985.  I’ve been teaching theology to seminarians since fall 1983.  I’ve agreed to make a presentation at an informal faculty gathering. Read the rest of this entry »

Lord, make my heart pure . . .

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Gannet Flying Overhead
Photo credit: Cliff’s View Blog

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“Refining”

Lord, make my heart

Pure as the gannet’s wing, Read the rest of this entry »

Dear God, ‘About God’ | Part 2 of 2

Dear God,
I’m back!  So how did I get started on this?  Recently I got a note from a friend who ‘named’ you several ways.  She referred to you as the Eternal One, Read the rest of this entry »

Dear God, About ‘God’ | Part 1

Dear God,
I hope you’re not offended.   I’ve been thinking about your name.  Sort of like I thought about Mother’s name, and decided to go with something else.  Not because she isn’t Mother to me.  She’s the only Mother I’ll ever have.  So yes, she deserves the capitalized version:  Mother.  Not just mother. Read the rest of this entry »

The cattle are lowing…

Sing, Choirs of Angels!

The cattle are lowing,
the baby awakes,
but little Lord Jesus
no crying he makes.
I love thee, Lord Jesus,
Look down from the sky,
and stay by my cradle
’til morning is nigh. Read the rest of this entry »