Nobody with an internet connection, a television, or a newspaper can have missed hearing about the horrific slaughter of LGBT nightclub patrons in Orlando this past Sunday morning. And nobody can have missed the blame being thrown about concerning where the fault lies. And nobody can have missed the outpouring of prayer, and the assertions of the (very reasonable) opinion saying prayer is no longer enough. Fortunately, there has been a move on the part of the US Senate to consider (inadequately) more substantial measures to keep of weapons of war out of the hands of people who have no business with them.

Prayer and protest are appropriate responses. Okay, I’m a little tired of what is beginning to feel like a competition to out-pray each other–how large is our vigil, how beautiful is our prayer board with the pictures of all the fallen. Jesus did say something about prayer being done in private, to go into your room and shut the door and pray in secret. We have become very bad about following this directive.

But what I am most tired of is what can be summed up as the “your grief is our grief; your loss is our loss” rhetoric. Yes, we all lose when there is a mass shooting: we lose a sense of security, we lose a bit of dignity for not having saner laws concerning firearms. We have lost the potential of young people’s contribution to society.

But not all of us have lost equally. The LGBT community has lost, the Latino/a community has lost. The families and friends–the people who knew the victims up-close and personally–have lost most of all. And by saying “your grief is our grief; your loss is our loss”, without nuance, we fail to acknowledge the very specific, personal, irreplaceable grief and loss which belongs only to the people who knew the victims well and loved them. Not as symbols, not as emblems, not as martyrs–but as sons and daughters and friends and parents and lovers and spouses and siblings.

Love always wins. But particular, specific, one-to-one love, where the person is a person, not a symbol or a story, has to be allowed to acknowledge the loss it has sustained.

In 1989, my mother died quite suddenly. A friend came to the visitation. She wailed and called attention to herself in ways I found embarrassing. She kept hugging me, and saying how terrible it was–but after half an hour, it seemed it was more for the sake of her need for attention than it was for support for me or my family. (She had met my mother exactly twice.) My father asked me to find a way to get her to leave. We had other visitors to receive, and after all, it was our family, not she, who was in need of care and attention.

I wonder how much the Orlando families and friends might be needing their own space to grieve, in the company of those most affected, who knew their loved ones best. Who have specific, rather than generic, words of comfort and support. For whom the victims were people, not symbols, not stories.

Yes, we should support–sign petitions, send therapy animals, raise money to pay for funerals which were not expected to take place for many years hence, and of course, pray. But we also need to find the line where we are intruding on the private grief of families for our own needs. And not step over the line.

Beyond “Us” and “Them”

We’re all still a little shocked, a little numb, from the mass shooting at the Pulse nightclub in Orlando, Florida, early Sunday morning, where 50 people (including the gunman) were killed, and approximately as many injured.

I hope we are. Because we should be shocked when demonization of anyone unlike ourselves has such frankly evil effect.

A few years ago, when I was still trying to make church a viable option for myself, I came across Ken Howard’s book Paradoxy: Christian Community Beyond Us and Them. I started an online discussion in one of my LinkedIn groups, which quickly became acrimonious because Ken’s proposals require dramatic changes in the way churches do what they’re supposed to do. And as we know, no matter how badly it is needed, the churches need to change or they will cease to exist–sooner rather than later.

As a result of the acrimony, Ken and I developed a correspondence, collaborated on a couple of blog posts, and become good friends–despite never having (to our knowledge) ever been in the same room at the same time.

Because the events in Orlando are such a dramatic instance of “us” vs “them” in our national life, Ken has taken a bold step. He has bought back the rights to Paradoxy, and is offering it for free (a small shipping charge is required).

In the wake of this tragedy, and others like it, I urge you to accept this generous offer, and read this excellent book.


Every time I see something like this, I want to smack the person who posted it. (I would not, because I’m reasonably good at impulse control. You’re welcome.) Especially when said person is an intelligent, well-educated adult whose responsibilities frequently include dealing with complex situations s/he has never encountered before, and who prides him/herself on having dealt with such events in a reasonably successful manner.

Okay, you didn’t sit down with a line of numbers and symbols, with the = sign in the middle of it, and you didn’t look for x without quite understanding y.

But if you’ve had to deal with a previously unknown problem, and you met it through an ordered series of steps, investigating what would happen in one area if you eliminated or added something to a different part of the scenario, and you noted the steps you took so you could apply a similar method to future problems–guess what? You Used Algebra.

Or at least you used the mental habits you practiced when you took algebra. Fiddling around with the numbers was not the important thing, even if it was the thing which meant passing or failing the class.

Developing mental agility, and practicing until it became intuitive, was the important thing.

Only people living exceptionally sheltered, narrow, protected lives do not do this. Only people who are too literal-minded to see larger pictures (and I fear, I see this meme too often out of so-called progressive religious leaders) do not recognize this. Every smart thing you do involves some kind of algebra, even if not literally solving equations. Every dumb thing you do ignores it.

The third dumbest thing you do is to think you aren’t using what you learned in algebra class. The next dumbest is to be proud of it.

The top-of-the-list dumbest is to announce to the world how smart you are even though you somehow get away without using algebra.

So, wipe those smug grins off your faces, and write a note of apology and thanks to your high school mathematics department.

Two Entirely Random unrelated reflections


I’m coming to think the really interesting thing about theology is not what any of it says about God, but how people try to verbalize their belief, and what the attempt tells us about the person and the culture in which said person operates.


Walter Cronkite used to end his nightly news program by saying “And that’s the way it was,” followed by the date.

It was never really “the way it was”. But it sounded so much more authoritative than the truth. Which was, is, and ever will be:

“And that’s the random crap we selected because it keeps our ratings up and makes our advertisers happy”.

Holy Week

Five short days ago.

The palms were fresh, and green, and supple

As they waved against the clear blue sky.

Today, the palms are red, and bruised, and tortured.

Fixed to a board, against the clear blue sky.

This is the nature of human acclaim.

This is the nature of success.

This is the nature of friendship and love.

We are all betrayers.

We are all betrayed.

Throwback Thursday: Reprising “I Say this in Love”

A while back, I wrote about the linguistic nonsense Christians engage when they open the door to a semantic environment with the warning “I say this in love”.

As I said then, it’s usually the opposite of anything which could be labeled as “loving”. “I say this in love” is almost always a warning signal which indicates the words to follow are going to be used to control and diminish the hearer.  The speaker has, or wants to gain, a “one up” position in the conversation, and can only do so by making the hearer less of what she is.

I only get this crap from men, and from women who want me to believe I should not challenge men  It usually has to do with my being “powerful”, and how my “power” needs to be toned down or softened so as not to scare the fragile and skittish animals.

Let’s get something straight.  Yes, I’m smart.  But I’m also 5’2″ tall, slightly zaftig, with grey hair and bifocals, and I knit in public.  I’m not a granny, I just look like one.

If you’re not scared of your granny, you should not be scared of me. If you’re scared of your granny, you have the problem, not me.

Last night I went to an alumni/ae event for one of the institutions from which I’ve earned a degree.  I had a delightful conversation with another woman whose power has been diminished by the church.  She noted I probably “intimidated” some people–but she did not say this as criticism.  Rather, it was intended (I think) as an expression of admiration.