Room for Hope

Today my heart is full of love and full of hope.  It’s not just because President Obama won; it’s because gay marriage won, and men who try to restrict the rights and safety of women lost.  I’m animated by a vision of a world where all beings prosper.  This may be an impossible dream.  Or maybe it’s only impossible in the way that incandescent light bulbs were impossible before Edison, or flight was impossible before the Wright brothers. 

My vision may be sketchier than either of theirs.  It may share more in common with Da Vinci’s flying machine than it does with the potentially realizable structures proposed by Orville and Wilbur.  It’s vague, rudimentary, and totally unworkable without modification. But nonetheless it’s a vision, and perhaps five hundred or a thousand years from now, someone more intelligent and determined than I will manifest that vision.  Or maybe five or ten years from now many someones will gather together to enact that vision.

Because after all it’s not my vision.  It’s the vision peering out from between the lines of the Declaration of Independence and the Constitution of the United States of America—no matter how self-serving it turns out the founding fathers were in drafting those documents.  And I believe that somewhere in the heart of every American, we share the same vision.  And yesterday, collectively as a nation, we took a giant step toward that vision.

But we are told daily that we cannot all experience abundance; abundance is just for the lucky.  And to be honest, no we can’t all live like they do on Cribs or Lifestyles of the Rich and Famous.  But we could all live better if we just take what we really nead.  But this might implies looking more disapprovingly at conspicuous consumption than we do poverty and who the poor become as a result of it.  We need to realize that if we create a world in which everyone experiences sufficiency, we need never fear insufficiency.  Conversely, if we draw a boundary between who gets rights honored and needs met we can never be certain which side of that line we’ll be on in the future. 

My mother used to say I was hopelessly naïve.  I’ll take that accusation over the accusation of being hopelessly cynical any day.  Because at least in my hopeless naiveté there is room for hope itself.

Environmental Justice Tour, Part I

The time for me to write my blog about my experience of the GreenFaith Fellowship Economic Justice Retreat is here.  Many blogs will be required for me to say all I have to say.  My heart is heavy with all I have seen and heard this past week, and as of today this blog is the only tangible action I believe I can take to make a difference.  So if I write from an intense and intensely politicized position, and if this is unpolished and incomplete, please bear with me.  If you find yourself swimming in a morass of negative emotion afterwards, please use that as a bell of mindfulness waking you up to your deepest love and hope for the world.

Our group toured the ports of Newark and Elizabeth, New Jersey, the second busiest port in the nation.  On our way to the site Fletcher Harper told us that gun violence in New Jersey gets a lot of attention, causing four hundred deaths per year.  But  according to NJ EPA, air pollution kills two thousand people a year and barely gets mentioned.  The port is largely responsible because seven thousand trucks idle there each and every day emitting diesel waste and the cranes used to move container boxes from ship to truck also emit diesel waste. The ships burn even dirtier fuel, so their emissions create even more smog. 

Alongside the port is a heavy industrial area featuring a fat rendering plant where animal carcasses are boiled to produce soaps and lotions.  Yeah, I wanna smear that all over my body! And a chemical food and dye factory, featured in the book Fast Food Nation for its toxic emissions—mmm, tasty!  All located near a huge incinerator, so that when we’re bored with the cheap plastic crap transported in on the smoke-belching ships inside the myriad container trucks driven from port to store by underpaid truckers in their fuel-inefficient outdated trucks we can burn it, emitting even more toxins into the air and leaving us with poisonous ash to bury.

There’s a prison in the middle of this charming piece real estate, too, with plans for a youth detention center in the works. Oh, and lest we forget, all of this poison is emitted less than a quarter mile—less than 3 city blocks—from a densely populated low income neighborhood known as the Ironbound, where children who will never get to play with the contents of the container boxes nonetheless bear the health costs in terms of a 25% rate of asthma.

What does all of this have to do with me?  Or with you?  I don’t live in New Jersey and neither do most of you.  But the reality is that this is just one of many ports, all with similar environmental impacts.  There is a mirror image in the developing countries that send the container boxes here and they don’t have any environmental protections so the situation may be even worse.  We are all connected to this process, whether we want to be or not by virtue of our economic system.

My guess is that we don’t want to be connected.  We want things to be fairer.  We want to know when we buy a product that it didn’t poison a child somewhere else in the world.  But we don’t have any say so about how this all takes place because we are not the power elite. 

Rabbi Larry Troster, one of the founders of GreenFaith, spoke to us later that evening about tzedek, which means most literally “equity” but gets translated as “justice” in translations of Hebrew Bible.  He emphasized two types of equity: distributive equity, where goods are evenly distributed; and participatory equity, where all stakeholders are equally involved in decision-making.  Our nation does not have either type of equity at present.  The reason you feel so helpless to change our environmental or economic system is because your voice has been silenced by the power elite.

The message of Occupy Wall Street is very clear, says Rabbi Troster.  It’s about tzedek: it is a demand for both distributive and participatory equity.  There is no single message other than that, because we all have different needs within the system.  But Occupy Wall Street, at its best, is an effort to broaden and deepen participation in a democratic process and help us reclaim our personal power to act on our own behalf.

I will, of course have more to say in coming days.  This is a start.  It is the something I can do, and I encourage you to find the one small thing you can do.  Maybe keep reading, maybe writing.  Maybe stop at an Occupy movement in your area and talk to people about why they’re there, and share your vision for the world with them, too.  But please, find the one small thing and do it.  As Edward Everett Hale writes:

“I am only one

But still I am one

I cannot do everything,

But still I can do something.

And because I cannot do everything

I will not refuse to do the something that I can do.”

p.s. if you would like photos of the port and industrial area please email me at 4shelleyldennis@gmail.com and I'll forward you some.  I am unable to post them to the blog at this time.

What Next? A Letter from Barney Frank Addressing the Recent Debt Ceiling Law

I am sharing this letter from Rep. Frank because I found it helpful in understanding what just happened in and to our country.  Additionally, he ends with some explanation of how we might want to address the issues this law will raise over the coming months.

Dear Friend,

I appreciate you taking the time to let me know of your views on the debt limit.  As I will explain later, I think part of the reason that we wound up with a very unsatisfactory bill – one that I voted against – is that there was a disproportionate volume of communications from people who take a wholly negative view of virtually all government activity.  Fortunately, now that their efforts have called some fundamental values into question, a more broadly representative sector in the American public is speaking out and I think that will have a good result.

As to this legislation, I was originally appalled at the notion that there was dispute over raising the debt limit.  It has never been controversial – as many noted Ronald Reagan asked for it several times.  It is the exact equivalent of paying your credit card bill or your mortgage when they come due.  But the election, last year, of a radical faction of people who combine, in my judgment, an ignorance of the way government actually functions with a philosophical opposition to important public functions, put us in a dilemma.  While I do not agree with everything the President did in this situation, I sympathize with him because the fundamental problem was that he was confronting a group of people prepared to blow up the whole enterprise.  When you are dealing with very radical people, who are prepared to tear things down, you are, unfortunately, at a disadvantage.  And for that reason, I was prepared to vote for a bill to raise the debt ceiling that would have included elements I did not like. 

I say that because a failure to raise the debt ceiling would have had terribly negative consequences.  First of all, it is axiomatic that if you don't have enough money, you are unable to avoid failing  meet your obligations.  So the people who are most vulnerable in our society would have been hurt the worst.  But the whole economy would have suffered as well.  For that reason, I reluctantly voted on Saturday for the bill proposed by Senator Reid, which did not have increased taxes, which I think are very important, but which at least had equitable spending reductions, very particularly including a trillion dollars that he anticipated saving when we ended the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan.  These wars are terrible drains on our budget that, hypocritically, many conservatives seek not only to minimize but to increase.

When I saw the bill on Monday morning, my initial reaction was a hopeful one because it had been described to me as something that would put real limits on military spending.  But then I read it.  It had two serious flaws in that regard.

First, it exempted the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan from any spending limits whatsoever.  This is incredible.  We are restraining everything else – firefighting ; vital research on cancer; aid for homeless people; repairing dangerously decayed bridges, etc. – but we were told there would be unlimited spending for Afghanistan and Iraq. 

Beyond that, the initial announcement was that the spending cuts would be parceled equally between military spending and non-military spending for the next ten years.  But the bill turned out to impose that division only for the first two years.  For the next eight years, military spending would be unlimited within the overall cap, and past history suggests that this would lead to increased military spending at the expense of vital domestic programs.  I support a strong military, but the $700 billion a year we are now spending on military – far more than we spend on Medicare – greatly exceeds anything necessary for our legitimate national security and in fact gives some our leaders an incentive to engage in military activity that is unwise.

There was one other part of the bill that I opposed.  I am pleased that it made no cuts in Social Security and protected Medicaid, a very important program for low-income people and one that has a very important impact on state budgets.  But it provided for a cut of up to 2% in Medicare.  It is true that it said this would come only from providers and not from beneficiaries, but there are three problems with this.  First, we made some sensible restrictions in what are paid to Medicare providers in the healthcare bill.  Ironically, the Republicans who are now pushing for even further cuts denounced us by grossly exaggerating the effect those cuts would have had.  Second, restricting funds to providers in Medicare, when non-Medicare reimbursements are not restricted, means that many people will have trouble getting access as some doctors decide not to participate.  This is especially a problem for older people who may lack mobility and live in areas where there are not a lot of physicians.  Finally, I do not regard healthcare providers as bad things.  They are sources not just of good medical care but, in much of the district I represent, of jobs.  Hospitals are major job sources in Fall River, New Bedford and other cities in the southeastern part of Massachusetts, and these are also jobs that cannot be outsourced.  People cannot administer to patients from Mumbai.  In addition, innovative drug and other medical technologies are, for Massachusetts, a major source of economic activity.  Again, in the district I represent, there are several such companies, and while I do not think we should be lavishing money on them, I do not want them singled out for excessive restriction. 

For these reasons, I voted against the bill. 

Had there been an increase in tax revenues, this would have overcome my objections.  That is, the absence of tax revenues alone would not have led me to vote against the bill if the military spending was restrained.  But to have unrestrained military spending and no new tax revenues guarantees that virtually every other part of the government would be unduly cut.

I alluded earlier to what has been an imbalance in the communications we received and my satisfaction that that appears to be over – namely that people who understand the importance, in a civilized society, of our joining our efforts by speaking out.  This gives me some optimism for next year.

The way this bill is set up, over my objection but nonetheless now law, we will have a very serious debate next year.  The Bush tax cuts , which exacerbated the deficit so much, will expire at the end of 2012.  If the 12 Member committee set up under this bill cannot come to an agreement, which seems to be the likeliest outcome – we will have what is called sequestration, with very deep cuts in a variety of programs, taking effect on January 1 of 2013.  What this means is that for all of next year – we should begin it this year – we will be debating two scenarios.  In one, we will allow the tax cuts to continue for most Americans, but return the tax rate on incomes over $250 thousand to where it was under Bill Clinton – when we had a strong economy.  What this means is that for every thousand dollars people make above $250 thousand, they will be required to pay $30. more in taxes.  (Their marginal rate will go from 36 to 39%) I am prepared to argue strongly that increasing the tax on someone making half a million dollars a year by another $7500. will have no negative effect on his or her economic behavior or well being.   And if we do not raise these tens of billions, it will mean further deep cuts in Alzheimer's and cancer research, firefighters, environmental clean up and aid to community colleges.  This is a very important debate.  I believe that when the American people look at the deep cuts in services that will come from a sequestration versus a tax increase of $300. for every thousand dollars earned over $250,000, the great majority will be on our side.  And in this case, since the Bush tax cuts are due to expire, that would have to be reenacted by both Houses and signed by the President, we will have the leverage this time as opposed to those who had it last time because they were ready to blow things up.

So I am sorry that the bill came out as it did, although I am pleased that we protected Social Security and Medicaid, and at least began the process of cutting the military.  But a lack of any increased taxes and a continuation of preferred spending status in the military, meant to me that it was simply not acceptable.  And I am now committed to making sure that we have the debate that I described above because I think once that happens, we will not again face such a terrible choice

Lamenting a Loss

This blog is dedicated to the memory of my niece Danielle Dennis-Towne who blessed us with her arrival on April 6, 1993 and transitioned much too soon, on July 16, 2011.  It was written loosely following a suggested format for laments in the book Rachel’s Cry.  Writing this blog helped me to process some of my feelings, and I hope reading it helps someone else out there in some way.  Blessings and peace…

Dear Spirit of Life, Soul of the Universe, Mind of God~

You already know why I’m writing, but bear with me.  I need to say it anyway.  I’m in the midst of writing my thesis on fourteenth century mystic Julian of Norwich, who is famous for saying that “all shall be well.”  My niece was murdered two weeks ago.  I am not convinced that anything shall be well, let alone that “all shall be well.”  My faith is shaken, and my hope is dead.

I know that sounds melodramatic.  Objectively, I also know it’s not entirely true that my hope is dead, or I wouldn’t be writing this letter.  But it feels true.  It would be more accurate to say that my hope has suffered critical injuries and recovery is uncertain. Danielle’s story is tied to mine, maybe more tightly than I’d ever recognized. Her father was my brother, and the challenges he brought to our lives bound us through silent, subterranean connections, like those forests of trees connected at the roots, and when one dies the rest die too.  If there is no hope left for her, can there be any left for me?

She was born into sad circumstances.  Her parents were troubled souls; although they both loved her dearly they were inadequate parents and loving them brought challenges for everyone who knew them.  Unable to rise to that challenge, I avoided my brother in order to avoid the pain.  Subsequently, I didn’t see Danielle often, one of many regrets that her loss seems to trigger for me.  I did call, though, from time to time.  When she was about four years old, he told me that she’d chopped through a board in karate class, yelling “yabba dabba doo!” while she taught that board a lesson about messing with preschoolers.   She had spunk from the get-go.

Gradually her maternal grandmother took responsibility for raising her, and by the time she was thirteen both parents were deceased.  Family members on both sides made sure she never went without love, though.  She knew she was loved.

In spite of the sadness surrounding her, she was happy.  We spoke about it the last time I saw her.  I’d gone to Chicago to support family when my step-mom was in the process of being diagnosed with ALS.  Danielle spent a few nights at my dad’s so that we could connect.  We went running every day, shopped a little and talked for hours. 

She shared the achievements she was making at the time, as well as her dreams for the future.  She was an honors student at the same high school I graduated from. She was a Junior ROTC commander and planned a military career. She told me about her awesome boyfriend, Ronnie, and how happy they were together.  She was a good kid and an impressively strong young woman—not giving up on life because it was tough, but rising to the challenge.

I asked her how she was doing without her parents and if she ever missed them.  She sure did miss them, she assured me, but didn’t dwell on it or feel sorry for herself.  “Who wants to be around someone who’s sad all the time?  Life is hard, and bad things happen.  But good things happen too, so I just look for the good in things.”  She said one day she’d have a chance to make her life her own and that’s where she kept her focus.  A lot of people would have given up, but not Danielle.  She never gave up on herself.  She never gave up on life.

So why, God, did you allow some obsessed idiot to murder her?  Why did you put her through all of that pain in her life and fill her with hope for a happy ending, only to let it end like that?  Everyone who knew her wanted nothing more than to see her succeed—it was impossible not to be on her side.  So what about you, God?  Where were you?  And more importantly, how can any of the rest of us dare to hope for a happy ending if you can let this happen to someone who made the most of every moment?

This is hitting me really hard—harder than I want to let on—because I needed to see a piece of my brother function in the world.  And I didn’t realize it until she died, but she was that beautiful piece of my brother that gave me some hope for my own ability to transcend the heartache of loving and losing him.  Maybe I was the same for her?  Who knows?  Now she’s gone and I can’t ask.

A childhood friend shot her in the back of the head.  I hope she didn’t see it coming.  I hope she died instantly and didn’t suffer.  I will continue to think she died quickly and painlessly without the agony of betrayal and loss until forced to think otherwise.  She suffered enough.

But maybe, God, she and I were connected not just by virtue of the pain of my brother’s life, but maybe also by some common strength—the same strength that allowed her to find joy and love despite her many pains and losses.  That doesn’t stop me from thinking that life was horribly unfair to that little girl.  It was.  But it does allow me to see past the pain.  It also forces me to realize that I have no idea who might be reading their life in the light I shine, so I have to find a way to shine it even though it’s hard right now.  We are all so interconnected, really, whether we realize it or not.

Show me, God, how to be true to the sadness in my heart as well as the optimism in hers.  Hopelessness seems an inappropriate way to commemorate such a brilliant life, yet it creeps into my bones throughout the day.  Optimism feels out of place in the face of such a horrible loss.  Nothing feels right.

Some people say “God has a plan.”  Frankly, I don’t believe this was part of God’s plan.  I believe in a God of Love, and that type of God isn’t capable of being the God of Murder, too.  I don’t believe this was God’s plan for Danielle.  But here’s what I do believe:

I believe, O Source of Life, that you were the source of her hope and her strength whether or not she knew it. I believe that you brought her all of the things that she needed—loving family members, loyal boyfriend, and supportive friends—and in just the right quantity to result in a truly beautiful human being.  Your plan was for her success and happiness.  She lived according to your plan.

I believe, Soul of the Universe, that you tried to change the direction this particular situation was headed in.  You were the source of the misgivings she initially had about going on the trip.  You silently encouraged family members to tell her not to visit this friend.  You probably tried in some way to reach him as well, to tell him that killing her wasn’t the solution to any of his problems.  But he pulled the trigger anyway.  He violated your plan.

Julian, fourteenth century mystic and subject of my thesis, had a near-death experience, and wrote of the great peace and bliss she felt in your presence.  Many others who come back from near death experiences say the same things.  I believe that is the ultimate plan, and the real end of Danielle’s story: she is with you now in bliss and peace. 

I believe, too, Mind of God, that you will help us all find a way back to the light, back to the beauty and hope that Danielle stood for, in spite of the crushing weight of her loss on our hearts.  I believe your plan is for all of us to live as Danielle did, looking for the good over and above the tragedy. Most of us are not there yet, but hope is creeping in around the edges of the pain.

Death does not have the last word. 

Love does.

A Prayer for Good Friday

This may not be my most popular blog ever.  I’ll be sharing a prayer for Good Friday. It seems most non-Christians assume that if I’m inspired by the stories of Jesus’ life that I must therefore also believe he was God incarnate.  They are allergic to that notion and stop listening.  Then there are Christians who love to hear about my interpretation of the Jesus’ story until they hear the part where I say that I always perceived Jesus to be fully and only human. It’s quite possible that Christians and non-Christians alike will react negatively to this blog post.  But I feel moved to share what inspires me with whoever might also get inspired.

 First, a word on what is most life-enhancing to me about the Jesus of the Gospels: he kept right on seeing and loving the very best and most holy in everyone around him no matter what.  He saw what was holy in them regardless of their tendency towards betrayal, cowardliness, and doubt.  He saw their divine worth in spite of racial, class, and gender differences.  He may not have been God, but he saw God in everybody.  He saw it so clearly that he helped them see God in themselves, too.  Imagine what the world would be if we all had such vision. 

He may not have been identical with Yhwh; he may have been as human as the rest of us. But he surely was divine.  Like the rest of us.

Here is my prayer for Good Friday.  As always, take what (if anything) works for you and leave the rest behind:

Dear God,

Please remove the beam from my eye, so that I can see clearly enough not to worry about the speck that is in my brother’s eye.  Remove that beam so that I can see and love what is best and most holy in everything under the sun, and nurture the growth of that.

Once the beam is removed, please use it to crucify that which in me which is contrary to life, wholeness, health and happiness.  Today I ask God to crucify my judgments against myself and others—the big ones and the small ones—because they all keep me from loving the world with my whole heart.  Please help me to see that it is my judgment that condemns, and not yours.  Please help us all to see that.

Crucify my fears.  They lead me to act smaller than I am, meaner than I am.  If my fears must remain, then please help me to live out my best self even when it's scary.

Crucify my hopelessness and despair about the state of the environment and humanity’s failure thus far to step up to the plate and fix the problems.  My hopelessness keeps me from doing what I can from where I stand.  There is always something I can do to help—help me see that action and give me the courage to take it.

Crucify my Ego—my need to say “I Am” and make a god of myself; that’s the root of human suffering. This leads to a tendency toward self-preservation at any cost.  Sometimes I overestimate the cost, and I forfeit what is best in me for the sake of friendships, jobs, or status.  I will outlive all of those circumstances.  Help me to hold to what is best in me even when it’s not popular, trusting that I will survive.

Crucify my anger and pain at life’s many betrayals.  My life may have been temporarily diminished by those setbacks.  But my darkest days have always been followed by some greater good that would not have happened had the darkness not come my way.  But the new day doesn’t dawn while I’m still angry at the night.  So please, God, crucify the anger and pain that keeps the light from shining through.

Crucify my frustrations with human failure. Maybe this arises from my great hope for the world, hope that is continually frustrated by the failure of humans to live out their best selves. But nonetheless, help me to love what is more than I love my vision of what could be.  Somehow I think that’s the secret not only to inner peace but to world peace.  After all, how can you find peace in a world you’re always trying to change? 

God, I ask you to crucify these qualities within me—to lift them up so that I may see them more clearly.  Let them die and be buried so that they may no longer live in me and so that I may see the world more clearly.  In dying, let them be transformed into Divine Love so that they may rise again to light the world.

These things I pray.  So may it be.

Why I Love Eucharist Even Though I'm a UU

I didn’t take my first communion until I was eighteen, when after a long absence from the Lutheran church I made my way to the Lutheran Campus Ministry at University of Illinois.  While atonement theology stuck in my throat, the body and blood went down easy.  At the communion table I felt a sense of, well, communion—not just with the others at that table, but with the earliest Christians and even Christ himself.  I didn’t imagine I was being forgiven of sins, per se, but rather than I was being inwardly transformed to be more like Jesus, somehow following his footsteps.

What was happening inside me, as the result of participation in my Lutheran church, was a growing sense of unity with all people.  Luther said “For the sacrament has no blessing and significance unless love grows daily and so changes a person that he is made one with all others,” and for me this “all” became radically inclusive.[1] I left the Lutheran church, in part, because of my pastor’s insistence that only Christians are saved.  For me, adhering to that stance is at odd with being a Christian.  However, in the eyes of some, failing to adhere to it cancels my membership in the church.

But there is something about the communion table I miss.  Last semester I began attending Jazz Worship at Old South Church because they have an open table, which suits my theology.  Ellen Charry says that the reformers understood “the Mass to constitute the Church,” [2] and Raymond Maloney says, “The Eucharist is about sharing and communion, not only our communion in the sacrament, but our communion with God and one another in our daily lives.”[3] In reading their words, I get a better sense of why I have been missing communion so much.  There is something about the sharing of communion that binds me to others present with a sense of common concern that I don’t always feel at UU churches.

Charry says that “The sacrament, Luther is clear, is a means for gradual transformation in love so that one makes others’ concerns and burdens one’s own and can rely on others to do so for oneself”[4]  Perhaps I am missing the sacrament not only because of its value as a sign of commitment from God, but as a sign of commitment from my community.  Luther said, “For there is no more intimate, deep and indivisible union than the union of the food with him who is fed.”[5] Based on this quote, one might think any church pot luck might suffice.  But that’s not the case for me. In my experience, there is something about being welcomed to the table that ostensibly grants eternal life that is profoundly validating of this one.[6]

I dwell in the limnal space between Christianity and Unitarian Universalism, a space haunted by the spirits of deeply religious men and women who did not see fit to tie God down to a creed or place limits on salvation.  I’ve been wrestling with the question of whether I need to claim allegiance to one side or the other.  Maybe one day I will.  In the meantime, I will open myself to the mystery of the Eucharist and be transformed by the love it signifies.

---

[1] Luther as quoted by Charry on p. 265

[2] (Charry 258)

[3] Page 274

[4] Ibid page 259

[5] Luther, page 266

[6] Maloney touches on this theme when he says that “We must not think of these meals as referring exclusively to the next life.  The plan of salvation which they reveal is saying something about this life also.”   Page 271

Rise Like Tsunamis after the Earth Quakes: A letter from Japan

RISE LIKE TSUNAMIS AFTER THE EARTH QUAKES: An open letter addressing grief, hope and some resources for engaging the healing process.

Greetings, My name is Crystal Uchino. I am writing from my home in the southern prefecture of Nagasaki, Japan. 

A somber dirge continues to play in the hearts of all of us here across Japan in the wake of this earth-shaking, tsunami and subsequent nuclear crisis.  This trifecta of disasters is truly beyond humbling, it is a living, grotesque and sobering nightmare that will likely haunt the world for much time to come.  As the after-effects of both the earthquake and the tsunami continue to be revealed, so grows the depths of the despair and sadness over the magnitude of the situation.  Watching events unfold over the news daily in real time delivers new quakes to test the resilience and endurance of our hearts, faith, the depths of our empathy, grief and determination to act. 

The death toll has continued to climb daily as does the number of those now homeless and seeking shelter from a nuclear fallout.  Additionally the conditions within the shelters is appearing more and more grim as a result of inadequate infrastructures to provide sufficient food, warmth and sanitation.  There continue to be new explosions at the nuclear power plant in Fukushima, and large after-shock tremors continue to rock this already shaken nation.  All around me, the apocalyptic images we see coming off the news conjure memories of the damage reaped by the atomic bombs dropped here over sixty years ago, as the possibility for a new generation of Hibakusha ("nuclear explosion-affected peoples") emerges as a frightening reality.

Today, it seems that Japan is once again being poised as a great and humble teacher.  The festering wound of this crisis serves to underscore, once again, just how much the splitting of the atom remains one of the single most volatile global threats at a personal, community, state, and environmental level.  Japan, despite past injuries of Hiroshima and Nagasaki, and seemingly anti-nuclear principles: non-production, non-possession, and non-introduction of nuclear weapons; has become one of the leaders in nuclear development and production in the world. According to Green Action Japan  before the quake, there were 53 nuclear power plants in operation in Japan.  53 nuclear power plants in a small island country notoriously vulnerable to earthquakes and other natural disasters.
 
My heart and prayers are with the people of Fukushima and the Tohoku area, as it is they who are now shouldering this horrific burden of teaching so that the world may be reminded of just what a painful and costly responsibility we bear when we allow bad stuff to enter our communities.

Around the globe, everyday people are beginning to awaken to the reality of our fragility and vulnerability surrounding the dangers of all forms of nuclear development.  Barely a week has passed since the initial shaking, but as a world we have grown up in ways that we had never hoped to, and with our newly realized maturity we are challenged look ourselves in the face, to grapple with this saddest of lessons, and answer the question of how we will begin to take responsibility for our part in allowing bad stuff to enter our communities, on both the local and global scale.

The desire to help, to affect something in the situation here in Japan is echoing around the world.  And while I hear it sounding and resounding all around, the ways in which each of us can tangibly work to affect some immediate relief are just beginning to be known. Still, because I have gotten so many requests from folks for suggestions on how they can support things here I wanted to share some of the initial resources I know of with you.  These links offer the best grassroots alternatives to donating to the Red Cross that I know of at this time.

Second Harvest Japan: This group has been working at the community level feeding people in Japan for years. http://www.2hj.org/index.php/eng_home
 
https://japanvolunteers.wordpress.com/  Great resource page consolidating links to support relief efforts, relevant to folks living in Japan and oversees. It is being updated Daily with new resources as they develop.

Call for Home stay for Earthquake Evacuees (Only for folks currently living in Japan) http://earthdaymoney.org/topics_dt.php?id=391
 
Translators United for Peace. For those who are bilingual. 日本の原発奴隷――原子力発電所における秘密 http://www.tup-bulletin.org/modules/contents/index.php?content_id=931

A friend of mine once wrote some song lyrics calling for people to RISE LIKE TSUNAMIS AFTER EARTHQUAKES, It is a most hopeful metaphor for me in this time.  And today, I received these words in an email from another friend "When Mother Earth speaks, all we can do is listen. But when humans dangerous passion for energy consumption has wreaked such toil on her children、then we must act."   The current genpatsu nanmin (“nuclear power refugees”) have translated the reality of nuclear development into a language that the world can feel. Humanity is speaking clearly, and I feel as a result of this new communication, tho painful, that so many beautiful, hopeful and inspiring things have also unencomberedly been brought to the surface.  I have been so moved by the feelings of sincere and unconditional caring and support that I have received from friends, family, and even strangers this last week, and equally as moved by the demonstrations and vigils manifesting in a multitude of forms that have been erupting with contagious passion all over the world. 
 .  
You may think me young, naive, callous or insane to bring up politics in a time like this.  But I tell you that I have prayed at the graves of unborn aunts and uncles murdered by atomic bomb disease and I feel entitled to tap into ancestral lessons this week. It is from my vantage point of both proximity and distance from this crisis as a current resident of southern Japan; from my vantage point of both proximity and distance from the horrors of Nagasaki and Hiroshima as the granddaughter of a Nagasaki Hibakusha, that I say with great hope and longing that this darkest of nightmares may serve as a catalyst to once again pump life into the stagnant pools of the anti-nuclear movement, to overflow them so that the energies built and created there may also nourish other movements. To me the words "activist" and "healer" are interchangeable.

This gravest of tragedies has been an ugly and unsoughtafter vindication of so many under-supported social-justice struggles, most poignantly the anti-nuclear movement, as this eventuality was predicted time and time again and most people sat in silent denial as more and more nuclear power plants were constructed, not just in Japan, but around the world, and so many people sit even now in disbelief, quietly burying their fears as development plans for hundreds of more (albe them "safer") nuclear reactors remain on the discussion tables amongst the grotesque suffering of tens of thousands of displaced peoples.  But amongst this cold and dark time also resides new growth.  A new spring is just beginning and each day we rise anew, we each are gifted an opportunity to carve out a more sincere definition of accountability, to hold ourselves and each other responsible in new ways.  Although our recent wounds are still gaping, still throbbing, the time is now for us to rise like tsunamis after earthquakes and once again recommit ourselves to the healing of the future for the next generation.

I've spent several days writing and revising this letter,  it started out as some brief resource suggestions to friends but morphed into this.  I was propelled to keep writing by my own desire to combat the helplessness I feel sitting here, relatively safe, overdosing on miso, kombu, and the news in the southern prefecture of Nagasaki, Japan as coordinated relief efforts have not yet begun accepting volunteers.  This time of mourning has given me a good opportunity to re-asses what I hold important and clear out some clutter to make room for the work that lies ahead.  So many exciting possibilities for new growth and new cooperation are resonating in the undertones of this funeral song.  Those of us living in the overdeveloped world have become so accustomed to the ubiquitous take take take lifestyle that we have forgotten how to stretch our arms, to reach them out, to reach them up!  in times when our spirits long to do so the most.  This is an open letter to anyone feeling helpless at this time, let us relearn the actions.

It is my hope that some of the things said and resources within these words will be useful to you, please feel free to share them with others. The links below are also great places to continue to sober up through educating ourselves and get inspired for the long term work that is to come.

http://www.nirs.org/ Updates on the situation at Fukushima and simple ways to engage in the movement to end nuclear dependency.

http://www.democracynow.org/ sober news reporting.

http://midnightapothecary.blogspot.com/ some recipes because protection, healing, and action begin inside the body.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r80RWNY_jXo&feature=player_embedded Anti Atom Demo in Germany. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hEuFxgreFPs&feature=related Anti Atom Demo in France.

http://timshorrock.com/?p=1137 A look into the history of "Japans Nuclear Nightmare."

http://neodadakko.blogspot.com/ This is a great sticker.

http://colorlines.com/archives/2011/03/japans_nuclear_power_crisis_may_halt_yucca_mountain_waste.html
Excerpt:  A little over a week before an 8.9-magnitude earthquake ripped open a fissure in the Earth, triggered a deadly tsunami and set off a potential worldwide nuclear catastrophe, House Republicans introduced a bill to permit 200 more commercial nuclear reactors in the U.S., “enough to triple current megawatt capacity, by 2040.” Tucked into that bill is a clause that revives the long debate around nuclear waste storage in Nevada’s Yucca Mountain, a move that Native American and environmental groups have been resisting for decades.

Japan quake radioactive material monitoring post MAP東日本大震災・非公式・放射性物質モニタリングポストMAP
http://bit.ly/gyZulQ

http://kimmiesunshine.wordpress.com/2011/03/23/welcoming-a-new-world/ a blog by a Tokyo resident connecting a bunch of dots and sharing a bunch of really great links.

A lot of the words flowing from this page have been pretty heavy, so I wanted to share just one small anecdote with you.... This past weekend I went to the post office.  And so I`m at the post office right, and there are people lined up out the door of the post office sending bags of rice and boxes of water or fresh vegetables to loved ones up north and I thought to myself..."what kind of apocalypse is this?...no one can get food or water, but they can get mail?!

On that note, I end this letter in solidarity and with hope, taking comfort in the knowing that the same moon shines light down on all of us. Each day I wake up to the budding and flowering of the ume, momo, and the sakura as well are beginning to bloom, as if to say 春が来るよ.

Crystal K. Uchino

Love to the Bitter End

To live in this world

you must be able

to do three things:

To love what is mortal;

to hold it

against your bones knowing

your own life depends on it;

And, when the time comes to let it go,

to let it go.

                   Mary Oliver

Last week’s Biblical Ecology class is still fresh in my mind, and I have to get a few things off my chest. The discussion focused on some biblical quotes suggesting that environmental destruction is caused by sin, and is evidence that we are being punished by G-d.  If the religious insight the author is trying to articulate is that greed, lying, disregard for the welfare of the earth, refusal to love God above all else, refusal to love our neighbor as ourselves, and willingness to kill without just cause—all of which are violations of Torah—are at the root of environmental problems, then I see the point entirely. 

After all, Yhwh (usually translated as “the Lord”) is a form of the verb “to be” and it seems to me that the magnificent religious insight here is that the Source of Being has given us some guidelines about how to be in the flow of life (or the Tao, if you’re ok with mixing religious insights).  It may not be that Yhwh, or the Source of Being, is punishing us.  It may just be that destruction is a natural consequence of greed.  Clearly the author of Isaiah meant punish, but it’s not necessary to share his entire worldview in order to see his point. 

But I digress.  The conversation turned to the arrogance involved in thinking that mere humans are so important as to have such an impact on the natural world, and the irony that we are having that impact even so.  While that majority of people were on board with the idea that humans are the root cause of our current environmental issues, there were a few who dismissed those concerns, saying that global warming will lead to another ice age.  Since there have been ice ages before and our species survived why worry?

The sad thing is that those classmates are not alone in their perspective. It seems major decision-makers in our country are in denial about the magnitude of the environmental problem and willing to put short term monetary gain above long term species survival.  It pisses me off to have to share a planet with people who have that viewpoint.

I mean, if we did a risk-benefit analysis on it, making changes even if another ice age is inevitable wouldn’t cost us much.  However, if global environmental crisis is avoidable, we lose everything by not taking corrective action.  It’s possible we could destroy most living organisms on our planet, and maybe life on earth itself (i.e. if we are not here to tend to our nuclear reactors, they will spill toxic radiation and it’s difficult to judge where that chain reaction will stop).  Can’t the “global warming naysayers” just be sportsmanlike even if they’re not in complete agreement, give the potentially horrible outcome?

I felt like giving up, deciding not to care since “what difference can I make anyway? I’m only one person.”  Why not just go shopping?

But here’s what I’ve decided…

I will view myself as Earth’s hospice attendant.  Maybe the world is dying, and there’s nothing I can do about it. But I will love the world as it dies.  I will be gentle, I will be present, and I will let compassion guide my actions. I will love everything as it perishes, and I will love Life to the bitter end.  After all, isn’t everything I love doomed to end whether or not the whole world does?  We all die eventually, but that doesn’t mean we should stop loving each other and taking care of each other while we’re alive.  Who knows?  Maybe loving the Earth that way will make a difference in the world. 

A Letter from Haiti

I received this letter from my colleague in Sustainable Communities, Katie Curran, just the other day, and was really moved to share this with on my blog to help raise awareness of the situation in Haiti:

Hi everyone –

I wanted to say hi and also let you know more about the situation here in Haiti, at least from my perspective. It’s pretty bad. Actually, it’s horrific, in many ways. I am very grateful to be able to focus on working with the kids here (I call them kids but most are in their 20s)  five days a week – they’re fun, smart, very talented, and I hope they can really push for independent media here, which I think is of utmost importance, for Haitians and the world.

The conditions are probably worse than you can imagine, for the majority of Haitians. It was ranked as the most impoverished country in the Western Hemisphere before the earthquake, and conditions have only worsened. 1,300,000 people were left “homeless” after the earthquake (I put that in quotes, because the shacks so many were living in qualified as homes) and there are still 1,050,000 homeless. They are in camps all over Port-au-Prince and the surrounding areas (many neighborhoods have more tents than other buildings). There are a few that are bearable (like the one that is across the street from me), but a recent human rights survey I read described the conditions as close to unlivable (and from what I’ve seen, I agree). The sanitation is one of the worst problems – though many organizations (over 10,000 NGOs in Haiti) have tried to implement compost toilets, the efforts only scratch the surface. Toilets are overflowing to the point where  people are shitting in plastic bags and with no trash services, the bags are just thrown in ravines. The water situation is obviously so bad that it led to cholera. Sanitation conditions of the entire city are absolutely deplorable. Streets are covered with trash and just flow with the water when it rains. Every single ravine is clogged with trash.

The cost of living here is higher than the U.S. People averaging a dollar a day face tuna fish packages that are $4 (maybe $2 in the U.S.), $8 orange juice ($4 in the U.S.), $5 for a box of $2 American cereal. A room for rent in a clean house is about $500 a month. I have NO idea how people are surviving.

The political situation is tenuous, to say the least. Protests are a regular occurence, but they haven’t been very big lately. As you probably know, the president responsible for mass murders and torture has returned, and I didn’t find out until today that I was actually at the same event as him last night (more on that later). The state hasn’t filed any charges against him, though a few individuals have. Though Devalier/Baby Doc was a relentless dictator, poverty is actually worse now then when he was in office, and many people are supporting him because anything seems better than what they have now – especially the younger ones that didn’t live through his reign. Aristide is supposed to come back, but I’ve heard various rumors as to whether he will, all surrounding stupid bureaucracy about his passport. Lavalas (his party) has been holding press conferences (I live in the same house as the other Haiti Reporter teachers and with other  independent journalists who have been reporting on the press conferences). I’ve received very different opinions on Aristide (from rational people that have lived here a long time). The kids, except for a few, are not super interested in politics and I don’t blame them – people say that the country was just broken when Aristide came back (the second time) and spoke nothing of the economic justice he promised, as he had before the US supported coup that ousted him (as the first democratically elected president of Haiti). The kids, in general, like reporting on Haitian culture, the people who have stayed strong against the odds, and the good parts of Haiti, which I totally understand and support. (By the way, I’m writing mostly about the negative stuff because it is so overpowering, but I don’t mean to leave out the amazing things – like the incredible artistic talent, the inner strength and courage and the kindness of so many Haitians –  this is, after all, the first slave rebellion that overthrew slavery and colonization). But the kids typically don’t lean towards overtly political stories (their stories, by the way, have been great so far – I’ve been blown away by what they’ve accomplished in 2 months). I think many of them see “politics” not as something that can be of regular people coming together to take control of their own lives, but as the rich, consistently corrupt men that stay at fancy hotels and take power through illegitimate elections (of which they recently had and is still being disputed) and are supported by various members of the military, state police, UN and “paramilitaries” (sometimes referred to as street gangs). Everyone, for the most part, hates the UN and police – the UN is constantly rolling around in their tanks and trucks with machine guns, often pointed directly at people, and the state police are also everywhere. The country is pretty  much occupied by the UN soldiers who seem free from any state or international oversight (constantly using live ammunition at protests, etc.).

I have had some interesting insights as a foreigner, ones that I didn’t have last time I came (late spring of 2009). One of the journalists staying here has a lot of connections in the NGO and journalist world, most of which I’ve found to be pretty disgusting. A few of us went to a party at a big house of an NGO in the richest neighborhood of Port au Prince. The (terrifying) moto ride we took to get there drove us by thousands of tents, and once inside the gate EVERYONE was white (except for security) and all dressed up like they were in New York and EVERYONE worked for an NGO or media conglomerate. Then, last night, a few of us went to a “jazz festival”. I was told today that Devolier was among the guests that included, again, all the NGO people (they all know each other), journalists and ambassadors of all the first-world countries – US, Canada, Spain, etc. It was a group of people that under any other circumstance I would be protesting their  political and economic castrations, rather than mingling with them. It was disgusting. When I say NGO, I include not only people from all the different aide organizations (many of whom are paid outrageous salaries to be here) but the World Bank and Organization of American States. I met a guy last night that worked for the OAS in finance, and I said something like, “you all have got to change your economic approach -- capitalism has obviously not worked and its starving people and making everything worse”. And he said, “I totally agree. If you want to see capitalism at it’s best, come to Haiti”. I was quite amazed that he admitted that. I have never been in a place of such economic disparity. (There are mansions here bigger than the ones on Long Island.)

One of the problems with Haiti is that organizations have either purposefully sidestepped the Haitian state with the good intentions (as obviously the state has not been trustworthy with its funds) or bypassed it out of their own interest. The results are completely disorganized and incohesive attempts to improve Haitian living conditions by organizations of every type working independently of each other (resembling hundreds of people trying to stop a gigantic surge of water with small and misshapen plugs) and with no coordination, and economic interests run wild (often under the auspice of an NGO title). Some of the organizations have done a lot of good, and maybe the situation would be much worse without them, but the lack of coordination and community is a lot of wasted resources at best and contributing to the problems at worst. The bottom line is that the underlying, root causes are not being addressed and a lack of political structure holds nothing  together – I would label the biggest problems as neo-liberal capitalism/globalization, international political destabilization (to support capitalism run riot) and a lack of democracy. I’m pretty convinced that the best use of money/donations is investing in community, grassroots organizations working for political empowerment, education and economic justice, even though it’s tempting to just give money to anybody, anywhere, as that might buy them a meal. Until the political system changes, not much of anything else will change.

I'll be home March 25th, but I'll try to write more before then and will definitely post links to the students work when it goes on-line.

Well, I should probably get going. I’m sitting on the porch at the house. There are voices bellowing gospel music down the street (they also sing at 5:30 am!) There are “Pure Water” trucks that blast Christmas music and the Titanic theme song, but things are quieting down for the night. Love - Katie

Below is a link to the Unitarian Universalist Service Committee website info on their Haiti relief efforts, where you can learn more about how you can help:

http://www.uusc.org/actforhaiti

My Monastic Retreat

It’s been two weeks since I came home from the monastery and I have yet to write about my experience.  It was such a multilayered experience it’s hard to know where to begin.

First let me begin with a little bit about the monastery and the monks…Benedictine monks live by The Rule of St. Benedict, written in the sixth century.  The rule book is small enough to slip into your back pocket, and following it demands your life.  The monks are, in short, lovely men.  They are gentle, kind, and surprising.  For example, one monk made every effort to use gender inclusive language during prayers.  Who knew a Roman Catholic monk would care about gender inclusive language? 

Another monk had us laughing uproariously when he told us about his first day at the monastery. He’d been assigned to landscaping duty and the older monk on that task had tricked him into sitting in a pile of manure.  Someone in our group said “it was compost,” to which he mouthed in reply, “no, it was shit.”  His ability to laugh about it seemed to fit his vocation.  Rooting oneself in prayer, solitude and silence for hours lengthening to days stretching into years, certainly negative thoughts and recollections arise.  Living with the same small group of people every minute of one’s life, doubtless irritations develop.  Being willing to sit in whatever shit you find yourself in and accept it for what it is would seem to be a job requirement for a monk.

Every day at the monastery has a rhythm which actually seemed busier than I’d expected.  They perform five services per day: Vigils, Lauds, Eucharist, Vespers, and Compline.  They maintain silence from after Compline until after Lauds, which is approximately twelve hours per day.  And they speak very little in between.  In between the prayers, study sessions and manual labor (such as bringing us our meals) keep them on their toes.  I actually felt one of my primary reasons for not being able to commit to monastic life would have to be the demanding schedule; nothing is your own, not even your time.  It would be a struggle to surrender personal property, but given that time is all I really count as my own anyway, it would be impossible to give that up.  I admire their dedication, and I can see the dividends they have reaped in return.  They are genuinely lovely, and loving, people.

Now as for my personal experience, it was intense.  A few of my key issues had been stirred up immediately prior to starting the retreat, and then I was left to sit with them in silence for the next five days.  We read Bernard of Clairvaux’s sermons on Song of Songs, which brought up other issues.  In one of the first sermons we read Bernard said to be like a reservoir for God’s love rather than a canal.  In other words, he advised letting God’s love fill you and nourish you, rather than just sending it on through and remaining untouched by in yourself.  I’ve done a lot of inner work on my “stuff,” and when I read that passage I had the sense that although I have done the major portions of work, it was time to let God’s love fill the spaces in between, the spaces human hands can’t touch.

And that will be the topic of my next blog…

Consuming Christmas

          Snug in the living room of their very old near West Chicago two flat, we celebrated Christmas as the Smiths had celebrated their entire lives.  Each family member had drawn names to avoid draining each other’s wallets.  Each person only received one gift.  Each giver had a limit of $20 on their gift, and it had to be either handmade or second hand.  To add a bit of fun and mystery, the giver left a clue on the outside of the gift, a riddle of some sort. The recipient of the gift read the clue aloud and had three chances to guess what was in it before opening the wrapping paper to find out, and the process had everyone’s rapt attention.  Raised a family of seven, sometimes eight when their parents took in a child who needed a home, and their father was a school principal.   Christmas, for them, was never about shopping.  It was about connecting.  They got more for Christmas than any family I’ve seen before or since. 

          Over the semester I’ve been doing a Faith Into Action project for my Justice Matters class.  This project has entailed purchasing the Better World Shopping Guide and using it as a reference to make every purchase.  The author of this guidebook has evaluated most major companies on the basis of their ethics toward the people, planet, animals, and communities.  [To access an online version of the book, please click this link: http://www.betterworldshopper.org/]  Throughout the semester I’ve become more aware of the cost of consumerism to the planet and the people on it.  It’s not a matter of how much you spend it’s a matter of how you spend it.  It’s possible to find goods manufactured by companies with environmentally and socially sound practices.

           Because it’s the season of giving, and so many of us are broke and feel like responsible consumerism is too expensive, I thought I’d address this in today’s blog. If you’re concerned about the planet and your holiday shopping, here are some ideas I thought of:

If you have the funds to spend, shop like crazy!  But buy less—focus on the quality of the gift and the ethics of the companies involved and don’t worry about how many gifts you get for your money.  Remember each dollar you spend is an investment.  And if you run short of money, glance down the page at some of the ideas for people who are struggling financially.

§  Shop at local retailers.

§  Buy from local artisans and craftspeople

§  Buy second hand items in good condition

§  Wrap your gifts in recycled papers printed with water based ink.  Or the Sunday comics J

If you shop online, consider these resources for socially and environmentally responsible chocolate, coffee, clothing and other gifts:

§  Clothing:  http://www.sweetgrassfibers.com/

§  Equal Exchange Online Store:

§  http://shop.equalexchange.com/

§  Many Fair Trade Items: http://www.greenamerica.org/programs/fairtrade/products/wheretobuy.cfm

§  Coffee and Chocolate:

§  http://www.globalexchange.org/index.html

§  Chocolate:

§  http://www.divinechocolateusa.com/default.aspx

§  Coffee (local to Boston):

§  http://www.redbarncoffee.com/index.htm

If you don’t have the money because you are one of the nearly 10% of people who is jobless:

§  Give the gift of your time—offer to help friends and family with household projects in any way you can, offer babysitting services to families with young children.

§  Instead of feeling badly that you don’t have money for a gift, take a few minutes to write a note, card or email to people you wish you could buy a gift for.  Share your favorite memory of a time with them.  Tell them how much you love them—because isn’t that what you’re most hoping to convey with a gift anyway?  Why not tell them directly?  I bet they’d love to hear it J

§  Buy second hand items in good condition

§  Ask for paper bags when you grocery shop and wrap gifts in those.  It will save you money, and you will definitely be using recyclable wrap.  Decorate the bags if you like—the creativity and beauty are good for the soul.

§  Consider making a holiday ritual around connection rather than consumption.  It’s possible that the gift people most need this year is YOU!

Stay tuned for a word on holiday potlucks later this week!