Change in the Church: Looking to Religious Orders

The Church is changing. And religious orders are really going to show the rest of the church how to survive. They are going to embrace change, in the way that the hierarchical church cannot. Religious orders will model this transformation.
- Bob Burke, former Director of Pastoral Planning, 1980 - 2003, Minneapolis/ St. Paul Archdiocese

Where is the Catholic church today? Where has it come from? Where is it going?

These are some of the questions that burn in my brain, keep my spirit soaring, and my whole body alive in wonder, outrage, desire, curiosity, and discerned courses of action. The church has problems. But the radical call of Christ to love all and work for peace and justice keeps me committed and posing these questions:

Who are we? Where are we going?

***

As many of you know, I love nuns. (I would be a nun, if I could also commit my life in marriage to one living man!) For all intents and purposes then, I have found a way to be as committed as possible to the devout, religious life, without being a professed sister. I have the privilege of being affiliated with the Visitation Sisters of North Minneapolis as a Visitation Companion. This lay membership rocks and feeds my soul. As these women rock and feed the North Side community through their contemplative presence, and commitment to "Live Jesus!" (For those who aren't familiar with these women, they are affectionately referred to as "Nuns in the 'hood" -- given their presence on the street and the way they open their monastery to the poverty, wealth, reality of their neighborhood.) In addition to spending time with this order, I also have significant relationships with the Sisters of St. Joseph of Carondelet, (who founded the College of St. Catherine in St. Paul, and march for peace every Wednesday outside my apartment). I'm also fortunate enough to have a dear spiritual director and poet friend at Rochester's Assisi Heights Convent, where the Franciscan nun Sr. Rafael Tilton resides.

***

Anyone who is catholic or who reads the papers, knows there's stuff going down in the church. If you are a member of the Minneapolis/ St. Paul Archdiocese, then you are privy to this "stuff" in the transition from Archbishop Harry Flynn to Archbishop Neinstedt. You recognize a distinctly different style of leadership. Your masses and liturgy may start to feel a bit different, as well. If you are a long time member of St. Philips, you might refer to this change as "reverting to Pre-Vatican II times." You may or may not understand how what's occurring in Minneapolis, Minnesota is somehow connected to what's occurring in Rome, Italy, under Pope Benedict's rule. If you are politically engaged and a critical thinking citizen, then perhaps the recent brew-ha-ha over President Obama's invitation to speak at Notre Dame has caught your eye. If you are in a rural area and attending mass, you may note your priest's exhaustion over having to run and preside over several different services in several different communities, in the name of consecrating the eucharist. You know there's a shortage of priests. You recognize membership in the church is dwindling. You see pews emptying out and perhaps overhear your friends' discussions about finding a different faith community to join. You may be celebrating a whole host of immigrant members, and yet struggling to understand how this evolution will include authentic communication and honor the roots of liberation theology.

Who are we? Where are we going?

So. I am part of the Visitation Companions; I sit on their Circle of Collaborative Leaders, and have the privilege of thinking about the challenges and opportunities of our current situation with this diverse group of nuns, catholics and non-catholic leaders. As part of addressing this reality, the Visitation Sisters have been leading in - what I'd say is - a progressive and inspiring manner by addressing the facts of this current environment, posing questions, praying communally and taking action. Through the Circle of Collaborative Leaders, the lay network of Vis Companions and given the support of the larger monastery, the Vis Sisters have opened a retreat house in the North Minneapolis community called "St. Jane House." This space for communal prayer and activity is, ostensibly, a way that models and exemplifies change in how the aging community will continue to "Live Jesus!" in North Minneapolis, when God forbid, they are gone.

In addition though, we are collaboratively, passionately working to recruit new sisters to the order. As the youngest lay member of this initiative group, I find it so exciting to get to be part of this work. I love the questions grounding us, and the task of identifying, naming WHY this life and call to be a nun is so beautiful and such a gift to a woman -- and to the larger world at this time! I find this ministry/ vocation/ marketing work especially provocative during this period in our lives, and in our church's transformation.

Who are we? Where are we going?

***

This past Tuesday afternoon with the Vis Sisters, our Strategic Planning Group met and was joined by a guest speaker, Bob Burke. As a church historian, former college professor, and retired Director of Pastoral Planning for the Archdiocese, Mr. Burke offered our group further perspective on what is taking place in our local and larger church. And this perspective inspired me! He was naming what I already felt true in my bones, and what is backed up by centuries of experience in the Catholic Church's history.

Bob Burke began:

The Church is changeable. People think it's unchangeable, but it is changeable.

He went on to outline the evolution of the monastic orders from the time of Christ's death, underscoring how the church has been changing since the beginning:

Church History:
Death of Christ
500 AD. – First Religious Order: Foundation of Monasticism
Benedict and Scholastica – founded in the countryside.
1,000 AD – Foundation of Mendicants, or Begging Orders. Franciscans/ Dominicans. They bring religious life into the city.
1600's – REFORMATION – all types of religious orders were founded for countering the reformation, answering charges of reformation by Protestants.
Note: this is HUGE CHANGE!
1610 – Visitation is founded.
1800's – French Revolution – orders are still in the city, country, there were beggars…but now: the religious orders are being founded around Charism.
Vatican II

Bob Burke stated, matter-of-factly and with hope:

"We are going to see the demise of religious orders…The Holy Spirit is calling us to do something new."

His acknowledgement of the current reality was such a validation of what we all know are incredible challenges today. At the same time, his words were a source of deep inspiration for me, as they came from his twenty-three years plus of service and leadership in the church, and his own expertise as not only a church historian, but a man similarly committed to the Salesian Charism and the Visitation Sisters. I appreciated deeply his critical questions about the future and his frank assessment about how we move forward.

"There are a diminishing number of practicing catholics. Mass attendance is way down. Participation is in jeopardy because of the shortage of priests. The Eucharist brought us together, but now with the decline in presbyters, what are we to do? The solution is known, but no one is talking about it. What is it? Let's expand the notion of ordination. "

His honesty, clarity and wise counsel gave me pause. It made me cry. It resonated with what I know to be true in my own lived experience with the sisters, and my current journey as a Catholic living, working, volunteering, serving in North Minneapolis and beyond. I took great hope from his prophetic words. I close this reflection as I began, with his words and my opening questions. I challenge you all in your respective faith communities and places of work and leadership to respond.

"The Church is changing. And religious orders are really going to show the rest of the church how to survive. They are going to embrace change, in the way that the hierarchical church can't. Religious orders will model this transformation. "

Who are we? Where are we going?

***

To Love! Hope! Change! Transformation!
Melissa

On South Africa's Election

http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/africa/8012567.stm

The turnout today at the polls in South Africa has been amazing. This headline from the BBC inspires many thoughts and questions:

What is the future of this beautiful nation?
What role do the young people play in today's results?
Who is Jacob Zuma to the average South African, and to globally-conscious -people abroad?
Where is this country economically and spiritually, fifteen years since the fall of Apartheid?
How will the emergence of this new opposition party, Congress of the People (COPE) impact the present and future direction of the country's leadership?

***

I am writing to send good thoughts to my South African friends abroad - and to all citizens who discerned their votes today, taking action to make change. In my travels last November to this beautiful land, I entered into so many political discussions. On the heels of the United States' election of President Obama, people from areas all over South Africa (Kenya, Uganda, Tanzania and Ghana) engaged me in critical discourse and reflection on democratic governance and change. No matter where I went -- whether it be the urban areas of Johannesburg, East London, Pietermaritzburg and Durban - to the rural communities of Msinga and Nquthu -- the questions and knowledge about the recent election in the United States blew me away. It was so inspiring to be engaged with so many differnt people, and to realize time and again how much the election of Barack Obama was triggering the critical engagement of other people in their own governments all over the world.

I encourage us all to take note of what is happening today in South Africa. The circumstances broaden and challenge us - no matter where we are in our local communities, or where we claim citizenship. As we tune into developing and transforming democracies all over the planet, we take notes, ask questions and in turn, support ongoing change for the liberation and prosperity of all people.

It's so exciting! Blessings to South Africa!
Melissa

Médecins Sans Frontières: A Documentary about "Living In Emergency"

The following is a trailer for the documentary film "Living in Emergency: Stories of Doctors Without Borders."


Living in Emergency Trailer from LivinginEmergency on Vimeo.

I had the privilege of seeing this film today with friends from my North Minneapolis Faith community. A small group of us from St. Philip's Catholic church were joined by the Northside Visitation Sisters at the St. Anthony Main theater, for this Minneapolis St. Paul International Film Festival screening. It blew my mind. It made me ask a lot of questions:

What does it mean to be a medical practitioner living and working beyond borders?
What are the frontiers of health care workers?
What implications does the work of Médecins Sans Frontières have for the rest of us?
How does entering a war-torn country resemble anything remotely familiar to your average US citizen?
How does a film like this push us all beyond our comfort zones and challenge us to step into the messy circumstances of conflict, terror, trauma, seeming scarcity, the absurd?
What does it mean to navigate the chaos of war -- the cruelty of the ridiculous and possibly insane?
Why even try?

I sat next to Antoinette Bennaars Lukanga. Behind me were Ann Shallbetter, Kristin Moffit, Carol Assiobo Tipoh and her cousin Adjo "Ellie" Amouzou. Sisters Mary Frances, Mary Virginia, Mary Margaret, Katherine, Suzanne and Karen were about five rows up and to the right. We were a crazy cross section of women from African countries and American states. Pink and brown-skinned; blond, brunette, black and grey-haired. Some of us work in the sciences with healthcare careers ; others were employed in education with classroom experiences. Still others had expertise in business, with human resource management and leadership roles. All of us were connected in one way or another to the film's central characters --the doctors without borders -- all struggling with the responsibility of trying to heal, mend - step in and witness what is bleeding and broken.

I cried watching this film. I laughed out loud at the absurdity of what I was seeing. I squirmed and squeezed my eyes shut at the horrific but ridiculous reality presented. (Drilling into a human skull to aleviate pressure on an already blown open-by-gunfire brain?!) I cursed alongside the isolated physician in Liberia without resources or support to do his job. I marveled at the arrogance and egos at play between the blessed humans doing this work. I wondered a lot about translating communication and culture in spaces like Congo. I thought long and hard about how connected we all are. I returned to the privilege I have to see such things and truly contemplate them. What exists at the heart of such war-torn spaces? Why do these conditions persist?

I invite all of us to see this film, support the efforts of such work, and recognize how we all might - as individuals and a larger global community --step into solutions.

In peace,
Your contemplative friend, (and catholic beyond borders),
Melissa

Easter: Prayer as Poetry

This is what I do, right? Contemplate conditions, write in response. Today, in light of Easter, I find myself meditating on Christ's crucifixion. I write. I laugh. I weep. I wonder. I entertain myself in the prayer that is my poetry.

Peace. Love,
Melissa

Trade Offs
by Melissa Borgmann

What if we stepped into that space?
Recognized our nearness to death:
Thorny piercing of skin
Nails through the wrists
(because the palms would not have worked, right?)

See this:
Sharply hammered iron pins that are driven through epidermis, veins,
move over bone.
Yes.
Affixed.
[Can you imagine the craftsman who forged that spike?]

Lungs collapsing from the tug of ribs
Pulled down by the weight of legs
Chest cavity crushing spirit.

And we try to breath.
We try.
He tries. We try.

Something like blood or sweat trickles down from the temples.
Do you get a headache? Appropriate, or not?

Yes, “This crucifixion gives me a headache.”
[“Me, too.”]

Pain is so inconvenient.
Suffering so easily remedied by, say, a cocktail?
A glass of wine appears.
The bitter irony of drink.

This is my body, given up for you.
This is my blood, shed for you and for all, so that sins may be forgiven.
Do this in remembrance of me.

Have the meal, it is much easier.

Amen.

****

Meditation on Nail Man
by Melissa Borgmann

My name is Ike and
I make the spikes
That drive through flesh and bone
Of one called Christ.

It’s hot and sweaty labor
To forge steel in fire
But the point is to honor God
With these gifts that never tire.

Healing our Families: Attending to our Stories, Screams, Salvation

Yesterday, at 5:30pm, I had the privilege of addressing a group of about 40 women gathered at the Sisters of St. Joseph Carondelet Center in St. Paul. I was invited to speak to this community on the topic of "Healing our Families" - as part of a Lenten Series - sponsored by the nuns and the CSJ Consociates. Before a room of mostly pink-skinned Sisters, Consociates, St. Joseph Workers and Friends, ranging in age from 22 to 80, I delivered the following reflection.

I offer it here for your own contemplation. I say "Thank you" to all who read and respond to such musings, especially my own immediate family. You all do wonders to inspire me, and countless others, I'm certain!

Love,
Melissa

****

CSJ Healing Service
March 27, 2009

Healing our Families: Attending to our Stories, Screams, Salvation!

Good evening! Let me begin by saying what a privilege it is to be in this community tonight; what an honor to be present in this space, with all of your glorious spirits, collective wisdom and stories, and given this opportunity to crack open a bit of scripture, and reflect upon this topic of healing our families.

I begin tonight with a story. I turn then to scripture. I conclude with questions and a prayer. The title to this, by the way is, “Healing our Families: Attending to our Stories, Screams, Salvation!”
.

Three weeks ago, on the second Sunday of Lent, I was running errands after mass. I had a laundry list of things to purchase, which took me to Walgreens on Lake Street. (Who here has been to the Walgreens on Lake Street?) While I was walking in to pick up these items, my eye was struck by a tall, handsome fellow. And everything in me started to sort of quake. He was handsome: 6’4”, clean cut handsome. Blazer over jeans and Italian shoes wearing handsome. Brown. African brown handsome. Rimless glasses handsome. I wanted to melt when he looked my way. I tried to proceed forward in my drugstore purchases, but over the course of the next 14 minutes, I went a little bit nuts -- swooning over this fellow that I’d never laid eyes on before in my life.

I found myself standing next to him in the deodorant aisle, picking out anti-perspirants; or rather: trying to pick out an anti-perspirant, but wondering instead where he lived, what kinds of food he ate, and whether he might want to take me out for Thai curry some night? I tried to focus on the Shower Clean and Pure Rain deodorants before me, but all I could think about was how nice and clean he smelled, like he maybe just stepped out of the shower or carried the scent of rain with him wherever he went.

He was so pretty!

Now, I know that I’m addressing a group of mostly nuns. And maybe there’s something seemingly illicit about talking about sexual attraction before a religious community? But I don’t think so. Because I know each of us, at some moment in time has had an encounter with beauty, with that which takes our breath away, and inspires a swooning-like feeling. And I think at the heart of these kinds of experiences -- is something that flows from God, is something that resembles the Divine, is something that has the power to heal us. And these moments are sacred and worthy of our collective note-taking or reverence.

I had to write about this experience afterwards. I had to write about all the aisles this fellow and I encountered one another in, in the store. (Toilet paper, toilet bowl cleaner, dryer sheet aisles.) I had to write about making eye contact with him and smiling. I had to write about how I got shy and quiet, but never spoke. I had to confess my own larger fears over what reaching out and extending words might mean. I had to disclose my complete joy over the encounter, and my utter frustration of what ensued. I had to admit how long it had been since such an experience had stirred such emotion in my heart and limbs. I had to celebrate that this body, this Divinely made being could have such an encounter, and even, quite possibly inspire something similar in him, the hot Walgreens man, who could be, for all intents and purposes: the other, the observer, even possibly, Christ in our midst.

What does this tale have to do with Lent, this Healing Service, or any of our families?

I turn to this weekend’s scriptures.

In preparation for today’s service, I found myself prayerfully drawn to these words from St. Paul’s Letter to the Hebrews and the Gospel according to St. John.

Christ Jesus was in the flesh,
he offered prayers and supplications with loud cries and tears
to the one who was able to save him from death,

and:

"I am troubled now. Yet what should I say?
'Father, save me from this hour'?

Can you repeat these after me?

Christ Jesus was in the flesh,
he offered prayers and supplications with loud cries and tears
to the one who was able to save him from death,

and:

"I am troubled now. Yet what should I say?
'Father, save me from this hour'?


How many of us know these aching questions, these cries coming from our own weary lungs? From our own salty lips? Beseeching a loving God and Creator for salvation?

Whew. For this 40 years old, single lady, roaming the planet trying to honor Love, these questions pierce the core of my heart.
I imagine they might resonate with each of you, as well. No matter what your circumstance as an individual, as a person part of a larger family. How many of us feel we have failed our families? (or they’ve failed us?) We haven’t been fully enough in our community? Haven’t responded in the most compassionate way to our cousins or to the Christ in our midst? How many have felt just like Jesus, here, achy, seemingly alone, and possibly letting down a leader, a parent, a figure of faith that we aspire to serve? (How many of us have feared death?)

I’m 40. A 40-year old single woman who loves God with her whole heart and mind and body. I'm a single, never-been-married woman who wants nothing more than to serve a discerned calling to partner and marry and have children. But has that happened yet? Nope! Guess what my cries sound like to God? Guess what screams pour forth from these lungs!

Enter: Walgreens man. Enter Love. Enter Jesus. Enter a moment, a chance encounter, when beauty pours forth, and pierces my heart, reminding me of my own beloved nature.

How does such a story, juxtaposed with scripture, provide insight into healing ourselves? How does a story like this relate at all to the healing of our families?

I return to a meditation on oneness. On our belovedness. On recognizing our connections with Christ, on seeing our suffering, our screams, as aligned in his own humanity, in his questions and story, and united equally, then, in His salvation…..Don’t you think?

The answer, from the prophet Jeremiah is as simple as this, The Lord says, “I will place my law within them, and write it upon their hearts.”

What’s the Lord writing here, (pointing to heart) except the word, “LOVE!”

Say it with me: LOVE!

***
So I wrote down this story about the Walgreens guy. I entitled it, “Weak in the Knees at Walgreens. “ I posted it on my blog, and then emailed it my list-serve of about 250 people. Included in this list, were my family members.

And do you know what happened? It triggered something. My aunt Marian, a biologist living in Lincoln, Nebraska, who screams a lot about stuff and incites all sorts of riotous on-line writing, softened in her reception of this. She re-titled my email, “Melissa’s Knees: Our Love Stories.” What ensued for days on end, in my online Borgmann-Family Listerve world: were narrative after narrative, written story after written story, response after response: all bearing witness to each family member’s “weak-in-th- knees” moment, when he or she had a similar encounter with Love.

It was beautiful and inspiring. It felt to be a kind of sweet balm, antidote to that which ails. It was healing.

As I close, I ask each of you to consider:
What is your story? What “weak-in-the-knees” moment have you encountered? What first hand stories of love have you shared with family or friends? How have you experienced Christ’s entrance in your world? At Walgreens, at the dining room table, how do you see yourself aligned with him in suffering and salvation?

My prayer is that in and through our individual and collective witness to such encounters, we know healing in our hearts and homes. May we encounter the beloved in our bodies and in the beauty of the other . May we find alignment in Christ’s suffering, and simultaneously say, “Thank God for the Salvation of Story!”

Amen?

Amen!

****
LENTEN PRAYER ~ A Time for Healing ~

Fridays, 5:30 – 6:15 pm
Carondelet Center, 1890 Randolph Ave., St. Paul
All are welcome!

March 6 ~ Prayer Service for the Healing of the Nations
featuring musicians Mary Preus and Tom Witt

March 13 ~ Healing Our Country
Reflection by Joan Wittman, CSJ Consociate, Chair of Legislative Advocacy Partners Working Group

March 20 ~ Healing Our Communities
Reflection by Brian Reusch, Minnesota Council of Churches, Celeste’s Dream visioning circle

March 27 ~ Healing Our Families
Reflection by Melissa Borgmann, teacher, author, spoken word artist, lover of the gospel

April 3 ~ Healing Our Earth
Reflection by Rabbi Amy Eilberg, Jay Phillips Center for Jewish Christian Studies, peace educator

Lenten Prayer is sponsored by the Sisters of St. Joseph of Carondelet and Consociates: Celeste’s Dream, Hedgerow Initiative, Justice Office, Membership, St. Joseph Workers, Wisdom Ways Center for Spirituality

Meditation: On Description

I love this passage from Pat Carini. It takes me to all of you today. I offer it as an invitation to slow down, pause, attend. It seems an absolute act of prayer, reverence, peace - this process.

It makes me wonder, "What would happen if we really looked at something - someone, circumstances - before we responded? What if we simply described what we saw?"

Meditation: On Description

"Describing I pause, and pausing, attend.

Describing requires that I stand back and consider.

Describing requires I not rush to judgment or conclude before I have looked.

Describing makes room for something to be fully present.

Describing is slow, particular work.

I have to set aside familiar categories for classifying or generalizing.

I have to stay with the subject of my attention.

I have to give it time to speak, to show itself."

-Pat Carini, "Meditation: On Description" In Starting Strong: A Different Look at Children, Schools, and Standards. New York: Teachers College Press, 163-164.

Happy Contemplating!
Melissa

On Anniversaries: Getting to the Fine Day of Walter McDonald's Poem

My recent writing about "swooning" ("Weak-in-the-Knees-at-Walgreens") triggered a whole series of responses from you. Included in these, were my own family's musings about the way many members made their way toward marriage. Our Borgmann-Family Blog was lit up with tales loosely given the title, "Melissa's Knees: Our Love Stories" by my Aunt Marian. It was great fun to read these narratives, and to glean other such moments of "swooning" and first encounters. It took me personally into the larger space of our individual and collective journeys toward commitment, and how messy and fun and hard and exciting that all is. Today's Writer's Almanac poem speaks to these journeys, from one poet's sweet, love-heartache-reflection perspective.

Enjoy!

Anniversary: One Fine Day
by Walter McDonald

Who would sit through a plot as preposterous as ours,
married after years apart? Chance meetings may work
early in stories, but at operas, darling, in Texas?
A bachelor pilot, I fled Laredo for the weekend,
stopping at the opera from boredom, music I least expected.
Of all the zoos and honky-tonks south of Dallas,
who would believe I would find you there on the stairs,

Madame Butterfly about to start? When you moved
four years before, I lost all hope of dying happy,
dogfighting my way through pilot training, reckless,
in terror only when I saw the man beside you.
I had pictured him rich and splendid in my mind
a thousand times, thinking you married with babies
somewhere in Tahiti, Spain, the south of France.

When I saw the lucky devil I hated—only your date,
but I didn't know—he stopped gloating, watching you wave,
turned old and bitter like the crone in Shangri La.
Destiny happens only in plays and cheap movies—
but here, here on my desk is your photo, decades later,
and I hear sounds from another room of our house,
and when I rise amazed and follow, you are there.

"Anniversary: One Fine Day" by Walt McDonald, from Blessings the Body Gave. © Ohio State University Press, 1998. Reprinted with permission. (buy now)

On Race and White Privilege: Julie Landsman at the Church of St. Philips

How do we make visible the invisible?
What role does race, racism, and white privilege play in our public discourse? How about our everyday communication?
(What is white privilege? How do we define this concept?)
How does anyone get conscious of that which lies below the surface, or goes unacknowledged, but permeates everything?
How do we celebrate our diversity, and move toward a unified humanity?
What precedes such development?
How do relationships transform our learning at the intellectual, spiritual, emotional levels?
How messy and exciting - at the same time- is this work?!

Hmmm....These are some of the questions I hold going into this weekend's event featuring teacher and author Julie Landsman at the Church of St. Philip's. For those who don't know, Ms. Landsman is one who exemplifies a critical consciousness and learning around some of the toughest issues of our time: racism and white privilege.

As a parishioner at the Church of St. Philip's, I'm excited about how having Julie in our midst may help to surface some of the gifts and challenges present in our North Side faith community. With St. Philip's rich legacy as a Polish Catholic parish, and its evolving spirit in a predominantly African American community, coupled with the recent influx of many East African members and our Congolese Catholic priest, we are poised for a rich and powerful discussion inspired by Ms. Landsman's own witness to her pink-skinned heritage and cultural experiences. Julie's writing is rooted in social justice consciousness, and flows from civil rights activism --which seeks to unite all of us across race, class, gender, language, faith lines.

If you are in the area, please feel free to join our post-mass reading and facilitated discussion. Julie will read from her latest book, "Growing Up White: A Veteran Teacher Reflects on Racism."

WHEN: Sunday, March 22, 2009
TIME: 11:30 a.m. to 1:00 p.m. (following 10:15am mass)
WHERE: Church of St. Philip 2507 Bryant Avenue North Minneapolis, MN 55411
(at the corner of 26th Avenue and Bryant Avenue North)

This is a free event and all are encouraged to attend.

Again: All are welcome!

Peace,
Melissa

Happy St. Patrick's Day!

It's the Feast of St. Patrick today -- a holiday celebrating this former Brittish (or was it Scottish?) man who was enslaved in Northern Ireland, and went onto to become a priest and bishop in Ireland. Patrick preached love and forgiveness in this country where he was imprisoned. As a contemplative, Catholic and resident in St. Paul, Minnesota - where many green beer drinking festivities take place today - I'm writing to simply pay tribute to this figure of love.

I share a prayer that exemplifies St. Patrick's spirit, called, "Patrick's Breastplate:"

"Christ with me, Christ before me, Christ behind me, Christ within me, Christ beneath me, Christ above me, Christ at my right, Christ at my left, Christ in my lying down, Christ in my sitting, Christ in my arising. Christ in the heart of everyone who thinks of me. Christ in the mouth of everyone who speaks to me. Christ in every eye that sees me. Christ in every ear that hears me."

Amen.

As a writer sensative to all faiths and beliefs, I extend the spirit of Patrick to all, and invite this prayer to be understood as one of Love encompassing all aspects of vision, identity, experience, encounter, journey. Yes!

Blessings to all this day!

Love,

Melissa

Weak-in-the-Knees at Walgreens

I can't remember the last time I thought I might swoon.

First off, who "swoons" anymore? Isn't this some archaic term once used to describe a Vivian Lee type meeting up with a Clark Gable? (Read: any female circa 1930-1950 encountering a hollywood star, or their returning war-hero husband.) What does it mean to "swoon"? "To sway, to buckle, to bend, to be overcome with emotion, desire, intrigue, and tip sideways?" I think, "Yes, Precisely!" As this is exactly what happened to me in Walgreens on Lake Street last Sunday.

I'm going about my business. It's after Mass and a social call, and I've got a "To Do" list that includes filling up the car with gas and replenishing some necessary toiletries and cleaning items for my 2338 Marshall Ave apartment. I leave my brunch counter at Longfellow Grille, and head, for the first time since my move to this neighborhood, to the Walgreens on Lake Street with my list in hand.

"Deodorant. Toilet Bowl Cleaner. Toilet Paper. Dry Cleaning Bags."

No sooner than I enter, do I notice the attractive person who inspires my swoon. (Melissa weak in the knees at Walgreens.)

Tall. Six foot three or four. Brown. African Brown. Sports jacket over collared shirt, pressed jeans, shiny black Italian leather shoes. Rimless glasses. Pretty.

But I am buying toilet bowl cleaner. So I work to orient myself with the aisles and take a step forward.

First Aisle: Deodorant. As I walk toward this section of the store, I realize the handsome man is coming my way. I pause, smile, he smiles back, and I make a gesture to let him pass in front of me. The next thing I know: we are standing side by side looking at anti-perspirants. I am aware of his height. Of his hands. Of his clean smell. And I think my knees may really give out. "What am I doing? Why am I here? What am I buying?" I am trying to focus. I read my list. Look at the items on the shelf. But all I can think of is how striking this man is next to me.

I wonder if he's single? Where is he from? What does he do? I wonder if he likes curry or Thai food? I examine brands of deodorant.

Shower Clean. Pure Rain. Powder Fresh. I wonder what he buys? I wonder if he is at all aware of me? I wonder what makes him sweat? I select the Powder Fresh and try to go about my business.

Next Item: Toilet Bowl Cleaner. I find this pretty easily, and in the space away from the attractive man, I realize I am breathing normally again. I realize I might be crazy. I am in a freaking Walgreens on Lake Street! I laugh quietly at myself and realize how fun it is to find someone handsome. I realize how long it's been, and

I say, "Thank you" to God for this moment and this feeling, and this pretty man, and I pick out a blue toilet bowl cleaner on sale.

I continue on.

Next item: Toilet Paper. I see a whole case on sale in the farthest aisle, but as I approach, I spot hot guy again. And I quake. I turn. I cannot purchase this paper. "Why can't this guy see me buying Toilet Tissue?" I don't know, perhaps I'm afraid of how real that all is. (That I use a bathroom?) I scan my list.

Dry Cleaning Bags! As I head toward aisle four, scanning the shelves for "Dryell" I realize I'm lost. Candles and gift bags are in front me. "Melissa, concentrate!" I say to myself. I try to see clearly, and now, before me, is him. He smiles. I cannot bear to be near him -- he's that handsome. I'm certain he'll read my thoughts. ( What if he reads my thoughts? )

I get out of aisle four, and take refuge in the paper products aisle. Scott Tissue Double rolls go into my cart. Now, to just get the dry cleaning bags and get to the check out lane.

But then I think, "Maybe this guy might think I'm attractive?"

Maybe it's not just me that's thinking about eating spicy food together, or how chili peppers might affect our bodies, or interact with our deodorant?

I walk gingerly to the front of the store, and then pause. Should I wait until he's up here, before I check out? I could hang out in film and batteries for a second. The "Melissa, you're crazy" voice kicks back in, and I proceed to pay for my items. The female clerk starts to ring up my stuff, and all of a sudden, he's behind me , another female customer separating us.

I scan for newspapers and ask the clerk if they sell the New York Times. She says, "no," gives me my grand total. As she processes my credit card, I look up, and he's staring right at me. We lock eyes. Smile at one another. It's like this woman between us is invisible. I want to melt.

And then the moment is done. I turn to gather my things, and try not to run out of the store.

He was looking at me. It feels obvious. But now what? Now I'm in a parking lot. Outside Walgreens on Lake Street. I unlock my car and take a look at my vehicle. The black CRV ashy grey, covered in Minnesota Winter Salt Sand. My "Catholics for Obama" sticker standing out in blue on the back windshield of my car. "Ah, isn't it funny how we might make first impressions?" I think.

I get into my vehicle, and the next I thing I know: he is next to me, getting into a shiny silver four door sporty thing, parked to the right of my car. Maybe a Chrysler, maybe a Mercedes. What do I know of cars?

And now it's obvious. We are looking at one another through our car windows, and I want to throw up. What can either of us do?

If I get out of my car, I'm really a crazy woman; if he would move to say something, he's a black man approaching a white woman on Lake Street.

What ensues is of interest in that curious, awkward, point-of-wondering, "what-next?" sort of curiosity I think we all hold.

I send my friend Matt a text from the parking lot of Walgreens. "I just locked eyes with a hot fellow in Walgreens. I can't remember the last time I got weak in the knees over a fellow."

I write this, and take hold of my "rational" Midwestern senses, and put my car in drive and depart.

Ten blocks away, heading east, wondering where I'll get gas, and if I'll ever see this fellow again, I get Matt's text message as a response. "Take him home with you!" I read his message and laugh, and then think, "Of course!" I am not that far away. I decide to flip a u-turn, and head back to see if he's still in the parking lot. As I'm rounding the corner, I catch the hot guy turning into a gas station across the street. I laugh. Again: Of course! Of course he's around! Of course he's pulling into this convenience store 45 feet from me.

I just need to pull across the intersection, and I'll be in the same space as him again! As I ease across Lake Street into the Super America, hot man pulls out and flips around, heading back West to where we came from.

I laugh again.

I fill up with gas, and contemplate the encounter.

I met a hot man in a place that specializes in maintaining well-being. We locked eyes. We smiled. He lit a fire in my belly and being. When I thought to follow him, he lead me to a place where I could refuel and continue moving forward.

Yes!

For all of it, I say, "AMEN!"

And for my readers, I say, If you know this fellow, please send him back my way!!!

In love, stories, contemplation,

Melissa

How Much is Too Much?

This WNYC Radiolab broadcast aired on Minnesota Public Radio February 20, 2009, seems a powerful response (or precursor?) to Tom Friedman's NY Times column that I blogged about earlier today.*

Friedman's question, "What if the growth model we created over the last 50 years is simply unsustainable economically and ecologically?" gets the responding query from Barry Schwartz, "How much is too much?" As a contemplative writer and thinker looking at my own life, my community, and holding data and experiences about the larger world, I ask, "What is enough?"

"What is healthy human capacity? How much can we hold? What is sustainable?"
From the WNYC broadcast we glean a response, based on George Miller's classic paper, "The Magical Number Seven, Plus or Minus Two." Turns out the average human is able to hold about seven pieces of discreet information in working memory at any given time. "Any more than that, and, as researcher Baba Shiv demonstrates, our good judgment can be overwhelmed."

Do you have more than seven plus or minus two things to keep track of at this moment in time? This research and presentation begs that we take a look at what we are creating, consuming, trying to hold and sustain.

I encourage you all to listen. Whew. It's entertaining. Informative. Perhaps, life-changing?

Enjoy!
Happy contemplating,
Melissa

"When Mother Nature and the Market both said: 'No More.'" - Excerpts from Thomas Friedman's NY Times Column

"Preach it!" That's what I want to say loudly to Thomas Friedman today, in response to his column, "The Inflection is Near?" Friedman is funny, asking critical questions, and presenting his readers with promising answers - from a realistic, but optimistic point of view. Thank you! Here are my favorite lines. Let me know what you think.

To see the entire article, click here.

Let’s today step out of the normal boundaries of analysis of our economic crisis and ask a radical question: What if the crisis of 2008 represents something much more fundamental than a deep recession? What if it’s telling us that the whole growth model we created over the last 50 years is simply unsustainable economically and ecologically and that 2008 was when we hit the wall — when Mother Nature and the market both said: “No more.”

We have created a system for growth that depended on our building more and more stores to sell more and more stuff made in more and more factories in China, powered by more and more coal that would cause more and more climate change but earn China more and more dollars to buy more and more U.S. T-bills so America would have more and more money to build more and more stores and sell more and more stuff that would employ more and more Chinese ...

We can’t do this anymore. We have not generated real wealth, and we are destroying a livable climate ...’ Real wealth is something you can pass on in a way that others can enjoy.” Over a billion people today suffer from water scarcity; deforestation in the tropics destroys an area the size of Greece every year.

We are taking a system operating past its capacity and driving it faster and harder,” he wrote me. “No matter how wonderful the system is, the laws of physics and biology still apply.”

Let’s grow by creating flows rather than plundering more stocks.

Germany, Britain, China and the U.S. have all used stimulus bills to make huge new investments in clean power. South Korea’s new national paradigm for development is called: “Low carbon, green growth.” Who knew? People are realizing we need more than incremental changes — and we’re seeing the first stirrings of growth in smarter, more efficient, more responsible ways.

Often in the middle of something momentous, we can’t see its significance. But for me there is no doubt: 2008 will be the marker — the year when ‘The Great Disruption’ began.

Zimbabwe News...

Family, Friends,

Has anyone seen this? I'm not sure how many take note of Zimbabwe's Headlines, but this news on their prime minister and his wife is so sad.

That President Mugabe is still in power blows my mind. To read this now about Prime Minister Tsvangirai - (the man who opposed him in the last election, fled the country because of death threats - only to return and be instated as P.M.) is also mind boggling.

Here are Excerpts from the NYTimes Article: (click to read the entire thing.)

The prime minister of Zimbabwe, Morgan Tsvangirai, was hurt and his wife, Susan, was killed Friday in a car crash about 45 miles south of the capital, according to officials of Mr. Tsvangirai's political party, the Movement for Democratic Change

Mr. Tsvangirai has been the victim of multiple assassination attempts during his years as an opposition leader. Last year, he fled the country, fearing for his life, after he outpolled Mr. Mugabe in March presidential elections.

Mr. Tsvangirai and his wife were married for more than three decades. They have six children, including twins, age 14.

"They were a team; they were very effective and extremely close," Mr. Cross said of the couple. "She was very much a pillar of support, spiritually and in every other way. Morgan will feel her loss enormously. I can't think of many couples as close as those two."

"Closer to Fine:" Living in the Questions with the Indigo Girls

There's more than one answer to these questions

Pointing me in a crooked line

And the less I seek my source for some definitive

The closer I am to fine

- Indigo Girls

***

I lead a charmed life. This, I do believe.

Yesterday at this time, I was taking my seat in the Cities 97 Radio Station Studio C to hear a live recording of the Indigo Girls , as they prepare to release their latest CD, "Posieden and the Bitter Bug." For those of you who don't know these two rocking female singer/ songwriters, I encourage you to seek them out. For those who do, I imagine you'll understand my complete and utter joy at being invited to this event.

Goodness! What is it to be able to hear live music? What is to hear live music that you love? What is it to hear live music that has somehow changed your life? Transformed your perception, gave you pause and inspired you to consider something anew? Pierced your heart and made you feel less alone in the world? Yes! How often do we get to pay homage to the sources of inspiration in our life?

My longtime Phillipian friend and volunteer buddy, John Michaels, invited me to this event. Many of you may know John as the radio personality and traffic reporter at KTCZ Cities 97 (as well as several other stations). John rocks. He's funny. He has a great disposition. And John knows how to call out traffic conditions for the greater Twin Cities area, thereby increasing the capacity for people to move from one location to the next - with a little more ease, information, and peace of mind.

On this day, John Michaels helped me in my own sort of daily, blessed journey through relationship, work, service, as I navigated oodles of plaguing questions - all in graced time, with such powerful musical artists singing live before me, and the

loving, funny company beside me.

I'm trying to tell you something about my life

Maybe give me insight between black and white

And the best thing you've ever done for me

Is to help me take my life less seriously

Its only life after all

Yeah

I first heard the Indigo Girls with Jill Mayberger. Road tripping between Omaha and Denver to see my sister, Stephanie, in college, Jill introduced me to this raw acoustic female duo. When she put in the tape cassette of their 1989 self-titled release, "Indigo Girls," I think my life sort of changed. I know something in me shifted sideways at least. "Closer to Fine" played as the first song on the album, and I knew almost immediately that Emily and Amy were two women I had to be connected to, related to, on at least some level.

Well darkness has a hunger thats insatiable

And lightness has a call that's hard to hear

I wrap my fear around me like a blanket

I sailed my ship of safety till I sank it

I'm crawling on your shores

Who talks about the darkness? Who talks about light? How do we navigate the fear? How do we navigate any of this blasted life with all of its questions? What does it mean to wrap fear around you like a blanket? What does it mean to crawl on someone's shores? Whew. When I heard these lyrics of the Indigo Girls for the first time, I am certain I wept with their resonance. On Thursday, in Studio C, in the company of 40 other folks, I wept again.

I went to the doctor, I went to the mountains

I looked to the children, I drank from the fountains

Theres more than one answer to these questions

Pointing me in a crooked line

And the less I seek my source for some definitive

(the less I seek my source)

The closer I am to fine

The closer I am to fine

Before I left for Cities 97 on Thursday, I was having a lovely lunch at my church, St. Phillips, where I volunteer. Excited about going to see these women perform live, I was raving to Betty Lou and Carol and Dale and Fr. Jules about their music. How does one really explain the Indigo Girls? How does one connect their faith community with their social arts community?

And I went to see the doctor of philosophy

With a poster of rasputin and a beard down to his knee

He never did marry or see a b-grade movie

He graded my performance, he said he could see through me

I spent four years prostrate to the higher mind

Got my paper and I was free

I tried singing this song, "Closer to Fine." I tried to recall the lyrics and their potency and describe this magic of their vocal harmonies.

I tried to find properly labeled recordings of the Indigo Girls on my laptop in my itunes folder. I couldn't.

I went to the doctor, I went to the mountains

I looked to the children, I drank from the fountains

Theres more than one answer to these questions

Pointing me in a crooked line

The less I seek my source for some definitive

(the less I seek my source)

The closer I am to fine

The closer I am to fine

Instead, I found myself rambling about doctors and philosophers and priests and lesbians and gay people and nuns and what it means to ask so many questions and seek answers. I tried to draw a connection between Jesus and Justice and Emily and Amy and our Catholic faith community and myself. I sighed. I smiled. I tried to communicate in words what seems the ineffable.

I stopped by the bar at 3 a.m.

To seek solace in a bottle or possibly a friend

And I woke up with a headache like my head against a board

Twice as cloudy as I'd been the night before

And I went in seeking clarity.

I sent my church colleagues a link to this song, "Closer to Fine" and then I headed out to the studio. There, before the authors of this potent song; there, before the raw, real, resonant lyrics being performed by these two lovely women, I celebrated. I swirled in my life questions, in my uncertainty, in my inabilities to fully articulate things, and I sang along.

I went to the doctor, I went to the mountains

I looked to the children, I drank from the fountains

Yeah we go to the doctor, we go to the mountains

We look to the children, we drink from the fountains

Yeah we go to the bible, we go through the workout

We read up on revival and we stand up for the lookout

Theres more than one answer to these questions

Pointing me in a crooked line

The less I seek my source for some definitive

(the less I seek my source)

The closer I am to fine

The closer I am to fine

The closer I am to fine

I do feel closer to fine with such work and words and wonder in the world.

"Wild Geese": Mary Oliver's Lent?

Today marks the beginning of Lent* in the Catholic church. This period of forty days, evoking Christ's time in the desert, is one we are all invited into. As a Christian, I think of it as a period of intentional contemplation - in the name of recognizing our utter humanity, and utter connectedness. I think of the many lenses a Catholic, or someone in another faith tradition, might perceive this period, and it gives me pause.

What is a forty day period of reflection about?

What gifts might we glean?

How many faith traditions practice such reflective periods - that include fasting? What do I encounter in the desert of my soul?

What if I encounter rage? Or demons? Where is love within?

I wonder what this Jesus fellow experienced in His time? How are He and I related?

I wonder about Mary Oliver and her Lenten dance? Did she ever walk through a desert? What does she know about being "Good" or being labeled as "Bad"?

I wonder how her poem "Wild Geese" was born?

What does she know of repentance? Of love? I wonder how the natural world might have spoken to Christ during his lifetime?

Could this be similar to you and me?

I wonder a lot of things. I offer Ms. Oliver's poem as another way into this season of reflection, love, forgiveness, transformation. Amen.

Wild Geese

by Mary Oliver

You do not have to be good.

You do not have to walk on your knees

for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.

You only have to let the soft animal of your body

love what it loves.

Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.

Meanwhile the world goes on.

Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain

are moving across the landscapes,

over the prairies and the deep trees,

the mountains and the rivers.

Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,

are heading home again.

Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,

the world offers itself to your imagination,

calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting —

over and over announcing your place

in the family of things.

from Dream Work by Mary Oliver

published by Atlantic Monthly Press

© Mary Oliver

*The Teutonic word Lent, which we employ to denote the forty days' fast preceding Easter, originally meant no more than the spring season.

More Franti and Spearhead: "Sometimes" - It's a Dance Party!

"I love Michael Franti. I'm going to have Sylvie start listening to him… what great music for a dance party!" - Emily Borgmann*

It's a dance party in my apartment right now. I am in love with this guy at this moment. Woohoo!

*giggle*giggle*shake*snap*step*giggle*

*These words from my sister in law inspired me to post another Franti/ Spearhead video to my blog. The song is called "Sometimes." (See if you can recognize the "Rollercoaster" sample.) I appreciate Mr. Franti dancing on stage, rocking it out, around minute 1:20. Yes!

I feel so lucky to get to see such performers live! Love! I know a number of you will rock it out at your offices, at your desks, in your homes now. Enjoy!

LOVE!

Michael Franti In Minneapolis: "Say Hey!" Happy Valentine's Day!

"Seems like every where I go, the more I see, the less I know."

I love this song. The simplicity. The sweetness. The story.

This evening I will have the pleasure of seeing Michael Franti perform this live with Spearhead at the Orpheum Theater in downtown Minneapolis. As a precursor to tonight's event, I share this You Tube music video of his latest song, "Say Hey (I love you.) " It says volumes to me about the sweet, simple, profound notion of love, and what our journeys really teach us.

Enjoy!

Melissa

Vusi Mahlasela at the Ordway: Another kind of Church

I had the amazing privilege and pleasure of seeing this rocking South African perform last night in St. Paul. Yeah to the Ordway for bringing Vusi Mahlasela here. All day, I was referring to the event, and trying to describe how powerful it was when people got up from their "pews" to dance in the aisles. Realizing we weren't in church, I thought my mistake was actually quite appropriate, as the concert felt like being at a rocking service.

An additional note: In the opening of this song, recorded in Johannesburg, South Africa, at the Live 8 concert, Vusi reminds me so much of former Teens Rock the Mic poets, spitting poetic narratives quickly into the mic...In this case, Mr. Mahlasela speaks as witness - or in testimony- to the crimes committed during Apartheid...However bleak it may seem, it's truly a song of hope and healing.

Enjoy!

Strange Fruit: A Reflection on Race, Culture, Faith, and Dialogue from the North Side

Southern trees bear strange fruit,

Blood on the leaves and blood at the root,

Black bodies swinging in the southern breeze,

Strange fruit hanging from the poplar trees.
- Strange Fruit, Billie Holiday

It's Wednesday night. I am at the Church of St. Philips in North Minneapolis. Actress and singer Thomasina Taylor Petrus is performing in the Mixed Blood Theater production of the one-woman show, "Daughters of Africa." At the corner of 26th and Bryant, inside this Catholic church, I am a member of this diverse audience that includes neighborhood children and teens, parents and mentors all gathered with fellow church members and Patchwork Quilt volunteers from partnering parishes around the Twin Cities. Black, White. Brown, yellow. Old, young. All are welcome and assembled for this free community performance of a musical honoring the lives and legacies of African American women through the ages.

At this moment, I am struck by Ms. Petrus' performance of Billie Holiday. The actress embodies this vocal legend -- physically, emotionally --singing "Strange Fruit" from the stage space created in front of the church's alter. In the course of her song, hearing these harrowing and powerful lyrics, I take note of the setting. I stand in awe of this juxtaposition of a Holiday in our midst, offering such potent words, with Christ on the Cross behind her, hanging atop a multi-colored stone-constructed wall.

Pastoral scene of the gallant south,

The bulging eyes and the twisted mouth,

Scent of magnolias, sweet and fresh,

Then the sudden smell of burning flesh.

My breathe stops short for a second. I pause, and take it in. Blood on the leaves. Blood at the root. Bulging eyes, twisted mouth. Bodies swinging. The scent of magnolias, sweet and fresh.

A month ago, I sat in this same space, to witness the ecumenical memorial service for Annshalike Hamilton, a 15 year old young girl found frozen in a garage, two blocks away, having been beaten to death. She was 7 months pregnant. Every sunday, I attend mass in this same space, blending with a congregation of West Africans and Polish Immigrants, North Siders, Suburban members and other Urban dwellers. And I am moved by it all: the proximity of people and tales, language and culture, crucifixion and terror, faith and community, fear and love, creation and transcendence -- all in one space. All seem to converge and speak directly to my core as some kind of celebratory witness of our humanity.

Here is fruit for the crows to pluck,
For the rain to gather, for the wind to suck,
For the sun to rot, for the trees to drop,
Here is a strange and bitter crop.

By the time the performance ends, we have seen Harriet Tubman, Elisabeth Freeman, Madam C.J. Walker, Zora Neale Hurston, Lena Horne, Rosa Parks, Oprah Winfrey. All come to life. All these women tell their stories, sing and engage our crowd.

Afterwards, after the applause, after the question and answer period -- after the little kids marvel and move toward Thomasina, after the children crawl up to sit next to her, after I even add my comment about this moment that has stood out to me -- this is when I have the next conversation. The layered conversation, the race meets faith meets culture and language conversation.

Fr. Jules Omba Omalanga, my newly installed pastor from the Congo, is locking up the place. I say to this dear man, with brown skin and a warm, round face, "Hey! Good stuff, eh, Pere Jules?"

He is beaming, and notes, in his African-French-accented English: "Did you see all the little kids coming up to her? I love seeing children so engaged."

I smile. I nod. I say, "And, this took place in church, Father!? And there was not one overt mention of Jesus!?" He nods and turns his head to me. I continue, "It's powerful what the arts and opportunities like this do for engaging us all, eh?"

I want to squeeze him. I want to thank him for his role in having this kind of thing happen in our church. I want to talk about my own large catholic spirit layered notions of how faith intersects with story, and works to inspire us all. I hold back. I wonder if this appropriate? I wonder if my Congolese Catholic priest gleans the way words shared, performed, sung this evening, are not unlike the words we hear shared each Sunday morning at service? I consider the way I feel fed by this performance, in a similar way to how I feel fed each time I attend mass and receive the Eucharist. I wonder if I can even utter such things? I wonder how he perceives, what he gleans of this evening, what he gets from the history of African Americans? I wonder too, especially, what it's like when his own Congolese and French-speaking self has only been here a few short years? I wonder if he understands me? Ultimately, I wonder if I understand him?

"Fr. Jules, did you get the "Strange Fruit" reference I mentioned?"

He shakes his head, "no" and continues locking up. Fumbling with keys, he says, "What is this 'strange fruit'?"

I try to explain, "It's an allusion to the lynching of an African American in a song by Billie Holiday."

"What is this word, "lynching?" he asks, still turning locks, still looking puzzled.

I pause, put my hand on his arm, "Father, imagine Jesus is black, and instead of a cross, he's hanging from a rope in a tree. That is 'lynching.'"

Then he nods, stopping, looking straight at me, and says, "Yes. I know many stories like this. It reminds me of stories from home. Stories from places the Congo and other African countries... like in Darfur. I know what this is."

Whew. And there's another conversation, right? Another 15 conversations! Here I am thinking all about catholicism and race and culture and history as it mixes itself up on the North side. Here I am trying to sort if this fellow and I have much in common and how we might ever really communicate, understand one another, be on the same page. And here, in this honest exchange, in this slowing down and stopping sort-of-exchange, my priest and friend takes me right out into the larger world. Into his home country, and into his experiences -- into spaces that I have no first hand knowledge of, but desire to understand deeply. He also takes me right into his own heart. I feel like I am present, lucky, so privileged to be standing here and part of something that feels so much larger.

And it makes me ask:

How many layers of communication must we peel back until we are all on the same page -- until we are all speaking about the same thing, using a common language, or common frame of reference? How many doors, hallways, buildings, alleys, (continents) do we travel over and through, until we find ourselves euphemistically, literally, in same room? What does it take to get there? How many keys do we need? How many doors do we lock and unlock? How many plays and masses and funerals do we attend? How many conversations do we have? Who wants to go through all the work? Who wants the hastle, the mess, the emotion? Who wants to hold feelings of perhaps being lost or confused? Who wants to acknowledge the work, and what exists in this room, on this page, when we arrive? And why would any of us want to go there?

These are questions I'm passionate about. These are questions that plague me. These are questions that seem to be at the heart of all my work and experiences of late. Whew. So I put them out here, in light of this recent encounter, and I invite you to hold this with me.

I invite you into the strange fruit experiences, conversations and contemplations of your own.

LOVE!

Melissa

Something From Richard Rohr - Toward Wisdom

I love this reflection from Franciscan priest, Richard Rohr. It's a bit on reflection, contemplation, living in the present moment, moving beyond duality and toward wisdom....I think President Barack Obama knows about this "Third Way" that Rohr refers to here....

Smiles, Love,
Happy Contemplating!
Melissa

***

The contemplative mind does not need to prove anything or disprove anything. It's just what the Benedictines called a Lectio Divina reading of the Scripture that looks for wisdom that says, "What does this text ask of me to change about me?"

The contemplative mind lets the terrifying wonderful moment be what it is and primarily ask something of me, not always using it to convert the nations.

The contemplative mind is willing to hear from a beginner's mind, yet also learn from the Tradition. It has the humility to receive both/and thinking and not all or nothing thinking. Now we call this non-dual thinking. It leads to what we call the Third Way, neither fight nor flight, but standing in between where I can hold what I do know together with what I don't know. And let that wonderful mix lead me to wisdom instead of this quick knowledge which largely just creates opinionated people and not wise people.

Fr. Richard Rohr, OFM, in the CAC webcast, Nov. 8, 2008:
What is The Emerging Church?