Month: September 2020

Beautiful Bridge

/ Robert D / Leave a comment

Today is Saturday. I am approaching noon and have been trying to get my brain to engage with “work” for a couple of hours now. Fall is my favorite season and that outdoors is calling to me. Saturdays are difficult in the fall.

Yesterday I took a long hike at Buttermilk Falls. I followed the Rim, Gorge, and Larch Meadow trails around the area. If I had brought more water, I probably would have walked the Bear trail as well, but it was still a nice hike around the parkgrounds. I enjoyed taking lots of photos, although I should have brought a different lens.

Below is one of the my favorite pictures from the hike. I came across the bridge partially down the trail and was completely alone as the sunlight began to stream down into the gorge. It was beautiful and serene.

Race and Faith

/ Robert D / Leave a comment

This morning I read an article from the Associated Press News that raised some troubling issues. The quote that stuck out to me as a minister was a direct quote of the President. He said : “American parents are not going to accept indoctrination in our schools, cancel culture at work, or the repression of traditional faith, culture and values in the public square, Not anymore.”

The implied indoctrination that was being referenced appears to be the ongoing conversation and education about the ongoing subjugation and subsequent oppression of people of color over the past 400 years that has been highlighted by secular efforts like the New York Times’ 1619 Project and religious efforts like the “Imagine No Racism” Campaign of the Upper New York Annual Conference of the United Methodist Church and the “Sacred Conversations on Race” Campaign of the United Church of Christ.

As a minister who just highlighted two local denominations’ attempts to wrestle with the cultural sin of racism, it may be obvious where I am going with this post. I reject the authority of any politician to label one set of beliefs as traditional. Even if I agreed with the source of the beliefs (e.g., the Apostles Creed, the Nicene Creed, etc.), I would still reject the assertion of any political leader when they use their office to say that one aspect of faith is traditional.

I can appreciate that many individuals might say that this is being blown out of proportion, but let me lay out several reasons why I am choosing to make this statement at this moment and on this subject.

  • Many people of color are expressing themselves and their experience of American culture. As children of God, their experiences and voices have intrinsic value that should be respected. Giving a venue to those voices does not diminish the voices of others.
  • Each generation begins anew the cycle of learning and growth. Each child will grow into a predominant culture, but each child will also have the chance to work at changing that culture. Gaslighting the expressions of persons of color as they emphasize the events that affected their families is an atrocious way to act towards others. In my opinion, labeling one set of beliefs as traditional and trying to silence the voice of others is gaslighting.
  • Bear with me for a moment here: as a male, I have to be careful of mansplaining things. Even when I have the best intentions, it is very easy to talk over others. This tendency is amplified when dealing with others who have traditionally been silenced. I’m not sure this is a phrase yet, but saying that one Eurocentric view is traditional is a great example of “Whitesplaining.”
How the road forward can look when your viewpoint is dismissed

Folks, it is easy to look at someone who has political power and give them the authority to make pronouncements. It sometimes feels safer to keep your head down and remain silent. Silence is not always the best option, especially when silence leads to the dismissal of others and the diminishment of our society as a whole.

A Story of Sara

/ Robert D / Leave a comment

So, in preparation for a writer’s retreat this fall, I’m working through “One Day I Wrote Back: Interacting with Scripture through Creative Writing” by Jane Herring. Today I worked on interacting with the story from 2 King 5:1-16 and was invited to retell the scripture from the perspective of the nameless Hebrew slave. I rewrote it in a modern context from my own experience as a grocery store cashier after college who was struggling with debt. I borrowed a few details about practices like using fake names from colleagues who dealt with a lot of sexual harassment from customers while earning minimum wage. I hope you enjoy and remember: creative writing occasionally takes liberties with the source material! Special credit to “Dave” from Trinity Church, Grand Island, who always gave me extra strong coffee when I’d show up 2 hours early for church! What a saint!

I work the weekend swing-shift at the grocery store. A few years back everything was going well until my car broke down on a cold winter’s day. Now I bag groceries, deal with drunk customers, and clean off registers while the day shift sleeps.

My name is Sara, although I wear a nametag with a different name to keep the customers at a distance. If they see me on a different day, I will know who they are if they call out for “Jackie.” I learned my lesson early after one of the Saturday night customers walked up to me on a Tuesday to try and sweet talk me as I tried to eat my lunch in peace. It is bad enough having people stare at my body while I work. I don’t need more of it on my own time.

Sometimes, my job makes me want to scream, especially when the bills come in. I pay minimum balances but the paycheck doesn’t stretch. I’ll never save up enough to get out of here. I’m drowning in debt, cannot afford a car, and will probably live my whole life in walking distance of the store where I spend my evenings and nights. It sucks.

Sunday mornings are the worst. I go to church after my shift and drink enough free coffee to get me through until the service begins. I do my best to stay alert and attentive, but it is very hard when the warm air from the heater hits me after the seemingly endless days of going to bed at sunrise and waking up after twilight. It’d be different if I weren’t swinging my sleep schedule back and forth, but it is hard when the church is full of safe people that remind me of home, the air is warm, and the music is peaceful. Thankfully, I sit by the couple who have grandkids that work retail. They wake me gently with a smile before the offering if I fall asleep. It is hard to sleep with an usher handing you a plate, you know?

So, yeah, I still go to church. I try my best to live out my faith, but it is not exactly easy. So many people come in hammered on Saturday nights. They act as if they are having a great time, and here I am working to just cover the bills for minimum wage. It sometimes feels like I’m the biggest sucker around, but I believe. My faith is at the core of me.

My manager and I talk about it sometimes. She can be nice when things are going well. On quiet nights we sometimes talk for a few minutes after she comes and buys something for her break. Her husband is sick. I feel like she talks to me because she just needs to talk.

It isn’t surprising she talks to me. I’m often alone on the front end as she manages the stocking of the shelves. It can be hours between when we see each other and I’m the person who smiles and does her work quietly because the alternative is… just standing here staring at the clock…

There are nights I am done by 2:00 AM despite my best efforts and those are the worst. Talking with anyone on a slow night is a treat. When anyone interrupts me on those nights, I am happy to see them. I don’t need cajoling to work, smile when she comes up, and I’m not surprised she doesn’t mind talking with me. I’m her easy “no-drama” employee who clocks in on time.

I guess her husband is pretty sick. It has to be rough. All of those medical bills, all of those appointments, and absolutely nothing to show for it. She’s so weighed down by it that it is just painful to see at times.

Back in my hometown, we had this service once a month where people would go to pray for their illnesses and lives. I have been looking for something like that near here, but there was something different about that service back home. It was a holy space: the way the community gathered and prayed together. Even the air felt different in that sacred space of prayer. I only went once for myself. I was heartbroken and didn’t know what to do. When the minister and the church prayed over me, it lifted my soul. I still think about that feeling of peace as their hands hovered over me. The air sparkled with care and… the only way I can describe it is grace. It was a merciful, blessed, holy space.

Perhaps I will tell my manager about the service this weekend. There’s another one coming up pretty soon: last Sunday of every month as it has been forever. Maybe her husband will want to make a trip of it. I’d go with them, but I work Sunday nights. I’ll still be sleeping during the service, hopefully thinking of anything but straightening magazines and finding warm meat stuck behind candy because someone couldn’t be bothered to give it to their cashier.