Thinking about (mis)appropriation

Today, as my mind wandered away from my once-again yoga practice, I found myself thinking about religious (mis)appropriation.

Lent has been on my mind lately––partly because it is Lent, but mostly because other UU bloggers have been writing about it.

This year, Ash Wednesday fell on the same date as Losar, commonly known as the Tibetan Buddhist New Year. I’d never heard of Losar before this year––but I learned a bit about it from Dolma, a Sherpa Buddhist blogger.  Among other things, she writes, “During Losar we aim to begin the New Year with a fresh start, which is represented through purification pujas and other traditions like cleaning your entire house and wearing new clothes.”

It sounded to me a bit like Lent. Not that the rituals were the same, or the religious teachings. It felt like perhaps the two shared a common human longing, tied to this time of year.

I know it’s a longing I feel when the light turns, and hope for spring begins to stir. It’s the root of my return to yoga, and it strengthens my commitment to my new writing group.

I began to wonder if Unitarian Universalists could forge new rituals for this time of year, coin a new name for this season where we long for new life, and find the strength to prepare for it.

Then I thought of how our Unitarian and Universalist traditions have too-often succumbed to the temptation to meld religious traditions together, to say, “It’s all one thing.”  Even though it’s not.

And that brought me to religious (mis)appropriation. To the problem of cherry-picking the parts we like from other religious traditions, without really understanding their context, or respecting the whole fabric of those traditions. To the reality that too-often (mis)appropriation is an act of the privileged––another in a long line of thefts.

But then I started thinking about Christianity, the religion from which Unitarian Universalism came. And all the things that Christianity (mis)appropriated––from the very beginning.  It seemed a bit ironic to me, that after all these years, we’re suddenly worried about it. If we stripped away all that we’ve ever taken from another tradition, what would we have left?  And who is this “we” I’ve been talking about, anyway? How do we decide what belongs to whom?

You see, when my mind wanders, it goes on quite the walkabout.

Back to the breath, the body, the stretch, the stillness.

Thoughts about greener grass

Six years ago I gathered up  my courage, put my foot on the bottom rail of the fence, and leapt over into the greener pasture of Unitarian Universalism.  It was heaven.  I wanted to lay down in the grass and roll around, savoring its lush greenness.  So I did.

After a while, I discovered it wasn’t all spring green abundance.  There were bare patches. Once in a while I stepped in it, if you know what I mean.

I am still very, very glad to be in the UU pasture.  My heart still dances, energized by the vitality of its people.

But my joy is tempered by awareness of its imperfection.  By acknowledgment that pastures I’ve abandoned provide nourishment to others–and sometimes even to me.  By recognizing that there are pastures I have yet to explore.

In the past few months I’ve met people in the UU pasture who look with longing at the Christian pasture I’ve left behind.  Some know that Christianity is no heaven, but others see only green, only growth, only vitality.

I want to warn them:  ”Don’t eat the greener grass!  The fertilizer they use–it’s toxic!”

But that’s not (always) true, either.  There are petrochemical-free Christian pastures.

And so I breathe in, breathe out, plan and write blog posts like this one, and let it be.

I will lie down in UU green pastures, and beside UU waters I will restore my soul.

Some day, maybe, all the fences will come down, and it will all be one pasture, open to all.

Until that day, may all who seek find pastures that feed their hunger, and waters that quench their thirst.

All the way to namaste

I learn interesting things when I eavesdrop on the conversation inside my head.

A few weeks ago, the yoga instructor on the video I use ended the session with hands folded in front of her heart.  ”Namaste,” she said.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” the inner voice said.  ”Namaste to you, too.”

I overheard the sarcasm, and started thinking about how hard it is for me to make it all the way to namaste.

Like most UUs, I love the first principle of the UUA:  ”the inherent worth and dignity of every person.”  But truth be told, it’s an ideal I aspire to, rather than a lived reality.

There’s a snapping turtle lurking inside my head, lying in wait for unsuspecting victims.   The turtle notices every imperfection, though its snide comments usually remain unspoken.  I am its most frequent target, but it bites anyone who catches its attention.

The fundamentalist church I grew up in was prime feeding ground for a young snapping turtle, and it grew strong and confident.  It continues to thrive in the divisive, mean-spirited secular world I live in as an adult.

But sometimes the snapping turtle slips up.  Sometimes its snark is loud enough that I can hear it for what it is.  And I can do something about it.

Each overheard judgment is an opportunity to counter judgement with compassion.

How we believe

I’ve been reading fashion blogs recently, most of them recommendations from my friend and fashion mentor, Strange Attractor.  What I’ve learned from my reading is simply this:  it’s not the what, it’s the how.

Sally McGraw at “Already Pretty” posts photos of her daily outfits, and my reaction to almost every photo is, “I would never wear that.”  But the message beyond the specifics of her choices is that what matters is wearing what makes us feel most confident, what helps us be our best, most world-changing selves.

Over in the UU Growth Lab on Facebook, we’ve had several rousing conversations about the struggle to have both a core identity and diverse beliefs. As I’ve thought about this, rattling around in the back of my mind has been the lesson I’ve learned from fashion:  it’s not the what, it’s the how.  It’s not what we believe, it’s how we believe.

So here’s the beginning of a list of “how” UUs believe.  Feel free to suggest additions–or subtractions.

• Humility.  As the Rev. Christine Robinson of iMinister has written, “Agnosticism of various stripes is our default theology.”  Whatever our beliefs, no matter how passionately we embrace them, we do so with humility, acknowledging that we might be wrong.

• Respect. Our congregations covenant to affirm and promote the inherent worth and dignity of every person.  As members of UU congregations, we challenge ourselves to respect the worth and dignity of others, particularly of those with whom we disagree.

• Candor. UUs commit themselves both to speaking and to listening with candor.  We try to speak the truth about our spiritual experiences as clearly as possible.  We try set aside our own experiences long enough to hear the experiences of others without bias or judgment.

• Commitment. The spiritual path of a Unitarian Universalist does not end at membership in a UU congregation.  The free and responsible search for truth and meaning is a life-long journey, and UUs commit to ongoing learning, wherever the path leads.

• Courage. Unitarian Universalism is not an easy path.  A popular misconception is that UUs can believe whatever they want to believe. Instead, we are compelled to keep on searching for what it is we truly believe, deep down, in our heart of hearts.  At the same time, we covenant to stay in community with those whose beliefs differ from ours, and we risk unsettling our deeply held beliefs.   Searching for one’s own beliefs, and listening to the beliefs of others, are two practices that require an immense amount of psychological courage.

• Integrity. UUs reject the hypocrisy of believing one way, and acting another.  We work hard to make sure our words don’t get too far ahead of our actions.

• Love. When all else fails, UUs try to stand on the side of love. When we can’t figure out what to think or believe, we ask ourselves, “What is the loving thing to do?  How does love inform our beliefs?”

What do you think?  Do you have any suggestions?  ”How” do you believe?

All we need is love?

Glenn Beck is coming to Anchorage this Saturday, September 11.  Our former governor, Sarah Palin, will join him.  The event’s promoter says that the date is a coincidence.

In 2008, when then-governor Palin was the GOP’s vice presidential candidate, progressives in Alaska coalesced in ways they’d rarely done before.  One Saturday, almost exactly two years ago, I went to my first-ever protest.  I parked behind the ACS office building, and walked toward the library, wondering how many others had decided to show up.  I turned the corner, and stopped in my tracks.  The crowd was huge (by AK standards).

With Glenn Beck’s appearance less than a week away, I started hearing rumbles from Anchorage progressives.  ”Should we do something?”  ”Gather at the Park Strip at 11.”

But the tone is different this time.  Weary.  A sense of obligation, not passion.

And after those first, faltering proposals, there has been something new.  People say they want to do something positive.  People want to sing, and dance, and pray, and love.

I don’t know what the practicalities of this would look like.  But I do know one of the first steps, at least for me.  Ironically, it was inspired by Glenn Beck.

My first step is to learn more about the work  of Martin Luther King, Jr.

Here are a few of his words.  May they kindle a fire of love in your heart.

Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.

Every man must decide whether he will walk in the light of creative altruism or in the darkness of destructive selfishness.

Have we not come to such an impasse in the modern world that we must love our enemies – or else? The chain reaction of evil – hate begetting hate, wars producing more wars – must be broken, or else we shall be plunged into the dark abyss of annihilation.

I believe that unarmed truth and unconditional love will have the final word in reality. This is why right, temporarily defeated, is stronger than evil triumphant.

I have decided to stick with love. Hate is too great a burden to bear.

Love is the only force capable of transforming an enemy into friend.

Man must evolve for all human conflict a method which rejects revenge, aggression and retaliation. The foundation of such a method is love.

We must develop and maintain the capacity to forgive. He who is devoid of the power to forgive is devoid of the power to love. There is some good in the worst of us and some evil in the best of us. When we discover this, we are less prone to hate our enemies.