Practicing Deep Community, Deep Hope, Deep Belief

On April 16, 2023 I had the honor of sharing my reflections with my church community. Below is a slightly extended and updated version of what I shared. Even with the small additions and updates, there is still so much more to say.

from the left a hand holds a lit match next to a short lit canlde in a flower-shaped candle holder. The background is all black.

Second Sunday of Easter, Sunday of Divine Mercy

Acts 2:42-47; 1 Peter 1:3-9; John 20: 19-31

Good morning. It is so good to be with you all today. What a week it’s been. I have talked to many people who feel heart-broken, despondent, angry, frustrated, helpless, hopeless. Perhaps you are feeling these, too. We bring this collective pain, as well as our individual struggles, into this second Sunday of Easter. Today’s readings show us practices of deep community, invite us to root in deep hope, and encourage us to practice deep belief in the Christ of transformation, the Christ that has been with us for all time and was embodied for us through Jesus’ resurrection.

In our first reading we hear how the community of disciples shared all things in common and allocated resources according to need. In the second reading from the first letter of Peter and the gospel reading from John, we are invited into hope, into the practice of believing. To be sure, believing and expanding our hope are practices. If you are like Thomas, if you are like me, hope and trust in renewal and resurrection fluctuate and waver, particularly in times like these, when there is so much to grieve.

If you ever struggle to believe in what you cannot see, I offer a simple, but not always easy invitation: broaden your perspective. Orient yourself in another direction. Practice patience. We only need look to our yards and gardens to see that Life is stronger than death. Resurrection is the way of Creation. This isn’t to say we should ignore the pain and harm in the world, but rather to remember that it is only a part of the picture. Then we can seek the places where in the midst of it all, people are taking steps toward care, healing, and restoration. Ask yourself the question: What do I want to see? And then keep your eyes open for it.

I want to see a world of vibrant community in which meeting needs is prioritized over unfettered accumulation. I could easily look around and not see this. AND there are places where people are operating differently from the dominant cultural norms.

Here at St. William we are strengthening our interconnected community through small groups and community retreats. When members of the community express a need, others step up, offering resources in ways that support individual and collective well-being within and beyond our church community. When our LGBTQ+ siblings are hurting, when our Black and Brown siblings are hurting, when our immigrant and refugee siblings are hurting, our leadership makes public statements affirming that they, you, we all are worthy of care; individual community members write letters, rally in Frankfort, collect resources, and otherwise tend to needs. When members of the St. William community saw that free trade did not mean fair trade, Just Creations was born, now 33 years ago. These are just a few of our works of community. These are acts of seeing the Risen Christ and recognizing that we play a role in its joyful fruition. This is believing in the value of salvific acts, even when we’re not sure of outcomes.

What is the world you want to see? I want to see a world in which all people feel safe enough and supported enough that they don’t turn to guns to protect, defend, or avenge. I want to see a world in which violence is not seen as a viable and desirable strategy to meet needs. We are 106 days into 2023 and in the United States there have been at least 161 mass shootings, in which at least 4 people were injured or killed with a gun. I suspect that since the 146th such shooting happened Monday at Old National Bank in downtown Louisville, many of us have been feeling the impact of this ongoing violence particularly strongly. Last night at Chickasaw Park, Louisville experienced another mass shooting- 2 dead, 4 injured- the 158th in the country, the second in a week for our city. This was one of 7 mass shootings that happened on April 15th in the United States, the largest being in the small town of Dadesville, AL, where 4 people were killed and 20 injured at a Sweet 16 party. These are only the mass shootings, not even counting the other injuries and deaths from gun violence.

I do not put my faith in guns or violence. Guns are not part of the story of the Risen Christ. I do not put my faith solely in gun legislation. Stricter gun laws are a stopgap, but they’re only one step toward creating greater collective safety. I put my faith in the multi-faceted and creative expression of people power.

Two and a half weeks ago, I was one of a few hundred people from around Louisville who participated in an anti-violence summit with the guiding question, “What if Louisville were the safest city in the world?” I believe in the people who were in that room- the violence interrupters, the mental health professionals, the restorative justice and conflict resolution teachers and practitioners, the elders who have shown us the efficacy of nonviolence.

I have seen the power of nonviolence on the streets of Louisville, at Standing Rock, in Palestine, in Colombia, in Guatemala, and other places in the world. Erica Chenoweth’s extensive and ongoing research on nonviolent and violent movements gives any doubters evidence to show that nonviolent social movements for change are twice as effective as violent movements and all such movements that have involved just 3.5% of the population have succeeded. 3.5% Echoing the second reading, there is cause for rejoicing here.

The world I wish to see is one in which we are so bound to one another that we don’t need laws to restrict guns because no one has used them to hurt others. I dream of a world in which we don’t have prisons or police forces because we choose other ways of addressing and repairing harm. Beyond St. William we also have models of these, places where small pockets of people are practicing care-filled community.* We can see them. When we struggle to see and believe, may we turn toward one another and lean into the love-filled creative potential of Christ in our midst.   

We shall be known by the company we keep
by the ones who circle round to tend these fires
We shall be known by the ones who sow and reap
the seeds of change alive from deep within the earth

It is time now
It is time now that we thrive
It is time we lead ourselves into the well
It is time now, and what a time to be alive
In this great turning we shall learn to lead in love
In this great turning we shall learn to lead in love

(Listen here to “We Shall Be Known,” by MaMuse, performed by thrive East Bay Choir)

*In future writing I will name some of the places and people that help me hold onto hope.

The Dark, Too, Blooms and Sings

Dear friends, 

Today is Winter Solstice, which marks the official transition from autumn to winter. Today is the shortest day and longest night of the year. An apt time to think about darkness. 

A few days ago I was given the "gift" of COVID, of slowing down nearly to a stop, just after setting up for another Holiday Bazaar for the weekend. This meant not participating in the Bazaar myself, finding people to be at my table for the first day and missing the second. Thankfully, the worst of the sickness could have been much worse and it passed quickly- I am on the mend. This unplanned pause, which happened not long after a very different leap in the dark, has given me time to reflect. 

Wendell Berry writes:
To go in the dark with a light is to know the light.
To know the dark, go dark. Go without sight,
and find that the dark, too, blooms and sings,

and is traveled by dark feet and dark wings. 
 

On this longest night we are invited to know the dark,
to recognize its mystery and fertility,
to savor it around us and within us,
to accept its invitation

to slow down,

to be still,

and to listen for its song.  

What do you hear? 

Just as love lives in light,
love lives in darkness.  
Love lives. 

Knowing that we often discount the gifts of darkness, the presence of love in darkness, I offer these questions:

What has darkness taught you about love? 

What does your own darkness teach you about love? 

How do you love the darkness within and outside of you?  

These are questions I am asking myself as as I ask you. I'd love to know what you discover. Perhaps I'll share my own answers, too. 


~~~
If you're wanting to reflect on the darkness and light of the last year, consciously transition to the new year, and do so with others, I hope you'll join me on December 30 for Mapping Life: Moving from 2022 to 2023. Find more information about it and 2023 classes here. 

If you're still looking for unique gifts, I hope you'll consider gift certificates for Heart Portraits and Sketches, Reiki, and Readings for Remembering. Every session is truly one of a kind. Gift certificates are 10% off through this Saturday, December 24th. Prices will be going up in January, so now is a good time to buy for others or yourself for next year. With missing the Holiday Bazaar, I brought back my 25% off Cards for Remembering sale, also through Saturday. 

Whether any of the above speak to you or not, I wish you well on this shortest day and longest night and hope that you encounter the gifts and the love in the darkness.

With curiosity and care, 
Cory

Holding the Complexity, the Humanity, the Whole

All week I’ve been thinking about Craig Greenberg, Quintez Brown, Annette Karem, and a friend of mine. These four and more are bound now by events of last Monday morning when Brown allegedly went into Greenberg’s mayoral campaign office here in Louisville and shot at him and his team members. Thankfully, no one was physically injured.

I don’t know Greenberg and I wish him no harm. I can’t imagine how scary it was for him and his team members to be shot at. I met Brown a few years ago when he spoke at a Martin Luther King, Jr. Day event. I was impressed at the time by his strength, clarity, and leadership. I was shocked when he was the one arrested for the shooting. He pled not guilty at his arraignment. The friend I mention had a studio next to Greenberg’s campaign office and was there Monday morning when the shooting happened. He was, as you might imagine, quite shaken by the events. Karem, who I also know personally and really like, was the judge for Brown’s arraignment Tuesday morning.

I’ve heard and read a number of thoughts and opinions about the shooting Monday, the arraignment Tuesday, and the release of Brown from jail Wednesday. I’ve seen reactions ranging from care and concern to anger and vitriol directed in multiple directions. Knowing several people who had very different experiences of the event, I am reminded of the complexity of our human interconnection. My own work right now feels very clear: keep my eyes, ears, mind, and heart wide open. Wide open. Wide Open. Especially my heart.  

When I teach Nonviolent Communication, I often say, “The primary goal is connection. The primary tool is curiosity.” In Atlas of the Heart, Brené Brown writes, “Choosing to be curious is choosing to be vulnerable because it requires us to surrender to uncertainty. We have to ask questions, admit to not knowing, risk being told that we shouldn’t be asking, and, sometimes, make discoveries that lead to discomfort.” Right now I choose curiosity and the possibility of discomfort. I also want to claim wonder, because wonder feels more heart-centered to me than curiosity. I choose them both.

After days of wanting to write but not quite being able to, I’m finally going to try to type out some words.  

Mostly questions.

I’ll admit here that I think I have answers to some of the questions. I imagine that some of you may answer differently than I. If that’s the case, I want to stay curious, to keep my heart wide open to you, regardless of your answers. Even if the only tangible connection between us is that you are reading what I’ve written, we are interconnected. Ultimately, our well-being is tied together.   

Others questions I offer with genuine curiosity and wonder. I want to keep my mind and heart wide open to whatever expected and unexpected answers may come. I hope that I will continue to turn to curiosity and wonder even about my own assumptions, beliefs, and current answers.

And so, I wonder…

Is it possible that we don’t know all the intricate details that led up to last Monday’s events?

Is it possible that we don’t know all the intricate details of Monday’s events?

Is it possible that we don’t know all the intricate details of what is happening with Brown after his release?

Is it possible that he is receiving mental health care that wouldn’t be available to him in jail?

Is it possible to open our hearts to the possibility both that Craig Greenberg, his campaign team, and their friends and family are hurting and in need of care and healing AND that Quintez Brown and his family and friends are hurting and in need of care and healing?

Is it possible for someone who’s primary concern is Greenberg to be open to the idea that someone else’s primary concern is Brown and that’s OK?

Is it possible for someone who’s primary concern is Brown to be open to the idea that someone else’s primary concern is Greenberg and that’s OK?

Is it possible that people are complex and that the same person can do things that heal and things that harm?  

Is it possible to refrain from labeling such a person as “good” or “bad” based on whether we witnessed more of their healing or harming actions?

Is it possible to notice the labels that we and others use that may oversimplify and narrow the boundaries of understanding?

Is it possible that systems we live in are complex and that they are serving some people much better than others?  

Is it possible that the effects of systemic harm over generations is rippling through these events?

Is it possible that accountability is not only about responsibility but may also include restoration and healing?

Is it possible to open our hearts to the possibility that the judge, the lawyers, and everyone involved is doing the best they can, even if we really, really, want(ed) them to do differently?

Is it possible to imagine that if we were in their shoes we might take the same actions, even if we find the actions problematic from the shoes we’re currently standing in?  

Is it possible to keep our hearts wide open to the possibility that a multiplicity of seemingly contradictory perspectives may all hold truths?

 Is it possible to keep our hearts wide open to the complexity, the nuance, the discomfort, the messiness of this human life?

I am sure there are more questions to ask.

Miki Kashtan often talks about the work of caring for the whole. This doesn’t mean a person takes responsibility for everything and everyone. That’s not a one-person job. Caring for the whole does mean taking into account the well-being of more than just whoever or whatever we are tending to as we make decisions. It means considering how our actions will affect our interconnected web here, now, everywhere and in the future.

I deeply long for all of us to have both the desire and the capacity to care in this expansive way.    

For a whole slew of reasons, we don’t all have the desire.

For a whole slew of reasons, we don’t all have the capacity.

But some of us do.

Currently I have both desire and some capacity to give. I wonder who else is willing and able to try to hold the complexity and the humanity of all parties involved and affected by last Monday’s events.  

I wonder who else is willing and able to do the experimental work of trying to hold the whole.

My prayer is that those of us with the desire to care for the whole find each other and that we harness our collective capacity, wisdom, knowledge, and creativity, so that we may nurture healing and hope.

However you receive these words, I wish you well. I welcome your thoughts, challenges, questions, and insights.