connection

Telling Stories

There is a documentary on HBO Max (or whatever it’s called now, it’s proven to be too difficult for me to keep track of which takeover bid they’ve decided to accept today, or which one they’ve abandoned after accepting – what it will be tomorrow is impossible to guess, but it’s HBO Max today) called Surviving the Jehovah’s Witnesses. This 3 part series details the faith, and the fallout from some of the more regrettable practices that led to the lawsuit filed by the Witnesses against the Spanish Jehovah’s Witness Victim’s Association. The suit challenged their right to call themselves victims at all, reasoning the existence of a “victim’s” group was, in itself, defamatory. Essentially, they were challenging the right of anyone to share their experiences about anything.

I have not much interest in discussing the Jehovah’s Witness religion. At least, not here. What I can say is that the Angel and I grew to thoroughly enjoy the local JW who would visit our home, Amos. Once, the Angel was in a bedroom cleaning, and Amos knocked on the door – this was the summer and all of the windows were open for all the world to hear our lives – and a 5 year-old Samuel yelled, “Mooooom, your friend is here!” I haven’t seen Amos since we lost that house, but I do think of him fairly often. He was terrific at his ministry, kind, engaging, and appeared to have a mind like a steel trap, always remembering our names and details of our lives. I thought then, and still think there is a lot I can learn from him. (Ok, maybe I have a little interest in discussing them.)

What I have a great interest in is each of our stories and the sacred practice of telling them.

A few Saturday nights ago, at the Bridge, a very good friend shared his story. His is one that includes alcoholism and increasing trouble with the law. It’s fascinating and colorful, to be sure, but to say that’s all it is is wildly misleading. It’s only texture for the real story, which is the unbelievable love & grace of God persevering. And the love of the people in his life persevering, as well. It seems that everyone who crossed his path was impacted in such a way that hey would continue to care for him however they could, no matter how much trouble he was in or how much time had passed. In a world where we are often sold the idea that we are all irredeemably selfish as fact, this night presented an alternative reality where neighbors show up and never stop showing up, no matter what.

The victims in the documentary sat in court, being viciously attacked, for the simple right to tell their stories. And why would they subject themselves to such abuse? Simply, to be heard. We are social beings, made for community, created to walk together through a life that is sometimes very very hard. Almost every time in the Scriptures when a person is overwhelmed and questions God about how (or if!!) he/she can possibly continue, when God answers, He answers with some variation of, “there are people over there to help you, find them.”

The Book of Lamentations in the Bible is the snapshot of a nation, Israel, who is crying out for anyone, ANYONE, to stop and hear their story, to notice their suffering. I think we are all looking for this kind of care, all looking for safe places to be vulnerable in relationship. We’re looking for a place where someone will finally listen.

Obviously, I’m not a Jehovah’s Witness (though I suppose I am a witness for Jehovah, which is a pretty massive distinction), but we should all probably be on the side of the Spanish Victim’s Association in this battle, rooting for the outcome they eventually got (which is of course under appeal), because they’re my good friend giving his testimony, they’re Israel, they’re you and me, all somehow trying to find the courage to stand up in darkness and jump, hoping someone will catch us.

The Spectacular Us

Last week in this space, I mentioned the “just” fallacy. There is no “just” anywhere, no “just” anything, certainly no “just” anyone. Everywhere is sacred, charged with meaning and potential, if we only have eyes to see and ears to hear.

Every other Wednesday, we are studying a terrific book called Inspired by Rachel Held Evans.

(I love that her name is Held. There is a song called “Held,” too, that is gorgeous. I have no idea if her middle name is Held or if it was her maiden name or if it was her name at all. Or maybe she took the name as a constant reminder of her place in the arms of God. It’s easy enough to find out, but I don’t think I want to. Like a song, I think I’ll live with the story it is to me.)

The last 2 meetings we have been in chapter 7: Fish Stories. It’s an exploration of the many miracles throughout the Bible and belief/faith. Initially reading it, I couldn’t really find much for discussion, which was ok, because I wasn’t this chapter’s facilitator. I didn’t need to find much for discussion. It was somebody else’s problem. I simply needed to show up.

As it turned out, our time was lively and full of the fantastic in each of our lives, those occurrences that can’t be explained in words or reason, like car, train, and tree accidents, amazing coincidences, forgiveness, and love.

This book is wonderful, but the real draw of the group are the people in it. I suspect it’s that way with most groups and communities. Where it might be an activity, event or shared interest that brings us together, it’s the relationships that keep us there.

It’s a trendy idea that I can follow Jesus on my own, in my bed or living room, by myself, privately, just me and God. I really don’t know how that started. I do know how and why it’s trendy – the independence and arrogant self-reliance is very modern. The more I think about it, it’s not really modern, it’s human. But the point is, this notion didn’t start in the Bible. In fact, it’s just the opposite. In Genesis 1 & 2, before the fall, it’s only the man and God, and God specifically deems it “NOT good.” It’s the only thing that isn’t good. So He takes a rib and makes another person.

We’re made to be together. (Not all the time, of course. We all need a break from each other from time to time;) This group makes me remember, and sometimes the learning comes outside of the explicit lesson. We were talking about miracles, trying to explain our way into loaves & fishes or walking on water. But as I looked at the Zoom pictures of each of our faces, brought into the space by a mutual love of our Creator and nothing else, sharing the extraordinary stories of our lives, I understood. This was the miracle, this safety, this connection, this love. We were God’s miracle. And it isn’t confined to this particular book study group or any particular group, not confined to the religious or spiritual, not confined by anything at all. I guess we miss it, or are looking for a parting of the sea, when it’s right here in front of us all along. It isn’t “just” a small group, not “just” a local church, community, football game, gym, class, office, grocery store, not “just” you or “just” me. It’s the breathtaking, spectacular us.

Catfish, pt 2 (or 3 or 4)

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COVID-19 is now a fully political issue. Of course, it has always been a political issue (alcohol- and smoking-related illnesses kill far more than this virus could in any worst-case scenario, but they have much better public relations, more effective lobbyists, so we’ve decided we don’t care too much) but now we have straight party-line protests and “Republicans are now pro-choice” memes. Ah yes, the meme, an ultra-modern genre that feeds on generalized oversimplifications. This particular meme obviously goes both ways but the point of politically generalized oversimplifications is to ignore all that doesn’t support the opinion of the writer. Our hopes that this was a human issue that would bring us together and not a left/right issue have been dashed on the rocks of partisanship, replaced with the usual political maneuvering and more of the same acid-tongued sniping. It’s super depressing and has driven me to posting Red Hot Chili Peppers and Billy Idol album covers on Facebook just to break up the vitriol – I am now that guy. I swore I’d never be that guy, yet here we are.

Everybody knows I loooove the tv show Catfish, about people employing fake profiles online. They do this for any number of reasons (from romance to revenge) and the hosts/detectives track them down and expose them. The show began as a movie, also called Catfish, where the soon-to-be host of the tv show was himself “catfished.” He had fallen in love with a woman that turned out to be a married, middle-aged mother of 3. She had created several fake profiles to interact with each other on Facebook to add depth and reality to the deception.

When you watch the movie (or the show), as the ruse begins to unravel, you’ll feel some level of indignance – “How could they do that????!!?” – decide they are “monsters” and wish for their just desserts. You will get angry at their inhumanity, their vicious callousness at breaking another’s heart. They are the villains in the story, and we along with the victims are the righteous innocent.

In the movie, the filmmakers show up at her door and she continues to lie, as my mom says, like a rug. Finally, she is forced to come clean and the narrative transforms, as do our easy characterizations.

Earlier, I wrote that they do this “for any number of reasons,” and that’s not really true. They mostly do it to find a personal connection that has been lacking.

That sounds familiar, doesn’t it? We’re created for personal connection – this is undeniable, especially now.

But why have they decided that who they are isn’t good enough for this connection?

Well, why have we? Think of all the ways we compromise or cultivate an image that might be more appealing to him or her…because we aren’t satisfied with who we are, because we have believed that we aren’t good enough.

This woman, the “monster,” is a talented artist, 2 of the 3 children are severely disabled. In fact, they are step-children, she chose to marry a man and care for those 2 boys for the rest of their lives. She is intelligent and soft, empathetic and funny. She is terrific. She made a very poor catfishing decision out of loneliness and disconnect that she will regret forever, but it is something she did and not who she is.

I think Catfish should be required viewing for every human being living on earth. We easily fall into the trap where we think those who believe differently are dumb, inhumane, ignorant, misinformed, heartless, but they’re not. (Well, maybe they are, but not always;) Usually, they are exactly like you and me, formed by experiences, wounds, mistakes, ideas, environment, education, suffering, and on and on.

Every Catfish follows pretty much the same arc. Fingers crossed that the person is actually the person we think it is. This wish melts into broken-hearted sadness that what was hoped for, isn’t the reality. Finally, we rebound into a deeper understanding, where we see the other as they are, not an idealized picture on a screen and not the 2dimensional generalization based on their behavior and our fear. This last space can also be called love, where it’s not about control or our wants and desires, not about us at all. Love because it is free of our fearful boxes and labels, free of The Other, free of the desperate need to win (and for someone else to lose.)

Maybe this COVID-19 crisis is like that, too. Maybe this IS a human issue, a global act of grace, but we first have to get past the fearful grasping for what we want, what we think, what we need, before we can discover the love that has been there all along, just waiting for us to arrive.

Rev. Lydia

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Yesterday, in the message, I spoke of the concept of alchemy that I heard from Rev. Lydia. Today I want to share her post that deals with that. (If you want to follow her, it’s revlydia.com, and she’s AWESOME.) I changed the format of the poem at the end to better fit this space. I hope you love all of this like I do.

“During this season of Lent, a discipline of not gathering with others has been imposed upon all of us. Regardless of whether or not some of us are introverts, humans are pack animals in that we are most happy when we are connected with others. And for a lot of my congregants for whom Sunday morning church is their one weekly opportunity to see and touch others, isolation is more dangerous for their health than any disease. 

But many of you who’ve been reading my writing for a while know that I believe we need to learn the art of alchemy to experience continual joy in our lives, especially in the most dire of circumstances. I share about this in my blog post here, in my marriage essay here, and in my workbook, Elevate Your Joy and Purpose here.

So if I ignite my powers as an alchemist, I can already see the base metal turning into gold by recognizing the following gifts within this situation:

• We have to slow down.

• We get to spend more time with our families. My friend told me that this lockdown has facilitated such good conversations with her husband, reminiscent of their dating years before the chaos of children and careers rushed in. 

• We realize how deeply connected the entire globe is to one another. 

• We travel less, hopefully making less impact on our environment by reducing our carbon footprint. 

• We can get our house in order by doing some organizing, cleaning, etc. 

• We can reach out to one another in creative ways. 

A congregant sent me this moving poem along this exact theme. 

Pandemic What if you thought of it as the Jews consider the Sabbath— the most sacred of times? Cease from travel. Cease from buying and selling. Give up, just for now, on trying to make the world different than it is. Sing. Pray. Touch only those to whom you commit your life. Center down. And when your body has become still, reach out with your heart. Know that we are connected in ways that are terrifying and beautiful. (You could hardly deny it now.) Know that our lives are in one another’s hands. (Surely, that has come clear.) Do not reach out your hands. Reach out your heart. Reach out your words. Reach out all the tendrils of compassion that move, invisibly, where we cannot touch. Promise this world your love– for better or for worse, in sickness and in health, so long as we all shall live. -Lynn Ungar 3/11/20”

Times Like This

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There will be NO Bridge community events or activities (No Sunday services, No book studies, etc) until further notice.

*These are interesting times and, while religious services do not fall under last night’s wider shutdown, just because we can doesn’t mean we should. So, sadly, we think it is the wise and responsible thing to do to temporarily suspend our gatherings. Please listen to the experts and agencies and stay inside, as much as you can. This is not forever. I am hopeful that after we see an expected rise in cases, we will see that the measures taken will result in less and less impact and we’ll back to our lives. 
But for now, going forward as a community… 

*Sunday at 10:30am, I will give the next message in the Ruth series as planned on 3 platforms: Facebook Live (on the Bridge Faith Community page), YouTube Live (on my ‘personal’ page – search Chad Slabach and you’ll see the Bridge logo), and we will record the audio as usual and post on the website afterwards. It might look and feel different, and I hope it’s something I don’t get time to get too polished on, but for now, we’ll keep moving forward there. 

*I think it’s REALLY important in times like this (though there aren’t too many ‘times like this,’ are there?) to stay connected, as much as we can, and continue our spiritual growth, continue to encourage each other and be this community. We’ll all go through many different emotions and, though we are apart, we don’t have to be isolated. 

That’s all for now. Join me at 10:30 Sunday morning and we’ll continue our dive into these beautiful Scriptures and, in particular, this book of Ruth that has already given us so much.  

Stay safe!!! Love. Peace. chad. 

P.S. I’ll include, from my last email, a message about what we can do in the midst of this uncertainty:  “But do try to stay connected; reach out, call someone, send emails, any way you can, avoid the isolation and loneliness that can come in times like this. Stay connected to your families, your church brothers and sisters, co-workers, neighbors. Take the time. Read your Bible, write in a journal, watch a Facebook Mini, start a book (even one that may or may not be called Chronicles, Nehemiah, and Other Books Nobody Reads;), play a game, listen to new music, eat some great food, call someone, write me a nice long email about you, sleep, exercise, eat well, drink water, and of course, wash your hands, be mindful and present, give yourself a break, give yourself permission.  I don’t believe this State of emergency is the “new normal” at all, but I think that sort of connection and care should be. I hope I see you often and hear from you often-er.”