Today I heard a story on the radio about a recent battle. It included a comment about someone involved saying, "God is great" as he eradicated his enemies.
My heart sank.
Because I do believe that God is great.
And I believe that God's greatness has nothing to do with hate, but with love...
nothing to do with war, but with peace...
nothing to do with me, but with us...
nothing to do with demonizing those who are different, but with valuing them.
It pains me each time I see people use God as an excuse, as a battering ram, as a weapon.
And let's not pretend that it only happens in other places, with other faiths, or with big battles.
As parents, as people who influence children in any role, it is our responsibility to make sure that's not what we do. It is our responsibility to make sure that our children know the greatness of God's heart, of God's love, of God's compassion, of God's reach...not of our anger or bigotries or prejudices that we try to push off on the divine.
Wednesday, November 28, 2012
Wednesday, November 7, 2012
What Should We Worry About?
It is the day after election day. President Barack Obama will be our president for another four years.
This morning on facebook I saw a friend's post. It read, "I'm getting worried about our country." Knowing this friend's political views, I'm guessing it was a response to President Obama's reelection and perhaps the Democratic Senate majority.
But here's what I want to say...
Perhaps we shouldn't worry about who was elected, whether they were "our" candidate or not.
Perhaps what we should worry about is our lack of desire to work together with people who are different from us.
Perhaps what we should worry about is our tendency to villify those who hold different opinions than ours.
Perhaps what we should worry about is our attitude that if "our" candidates don't win the country is falling apart.
Perhaps what we should worry about is what our children are learning from our behavior and what it means that we are raising them in a time when we refuse to choose other than to be polarized.
This morning on facebook I saw a friend's post. It read, "I'm getting worried about our country." Knowing this friend's political views, I'm guessing it was a response to President Obama's reelection and perhaps the Democratic Senate majority.
But here's what I want to say...
Perhaps we shouldn't worry about who was elected, whether they were "our" candidate or not.
Perhaps what we should worry about is our lack of desire to work together with people who are different from us.
Perhaps what we should worry about is our tendency to villify those who hold different opinions than ours.
Perhaps what we should worry about is our attitude that if "our" candidates don't win the country is falling apart.
Perhaps what we should worry about is what our children are learning from our behavior and what it means that we are raising them in a time when we refuse to choose other than to be polarized.
Thursday, November 1, 2012
The "Favorite Child Principle"
This last month we've had a class at church on the three faiths of Abraham. We've had the pleasure of having friends from the local Jewish and Muslim communities as well as a Christian history professor come speak. I had the privilege last Sunday of presenting the final lesson talking about the importance of interfaith conversation.
During that lesson I talked about what I've come to call the "Favorite Child Principle."
I talk about it this way...
One day as my mother, sister, and I sat together mom started talking about something she had read. It seems a woman had written letters to each of her four children that they were to receive when she died. In each letter she told each child that he or she was her favorite. She had also concluded by writing in each letter that the recipient should not tell his or her sibilings, after all their feelings would be hurt. My mom ended this story by saying to us, "So when you get your letters, don't tell each other." (You know we will!)
What does that have to do with the three faiths of Abraham, you might ask? Well, the reality is that often we walk around acting as if we are the "favorite child." As a Christian, I know Christians do this. I am sure that there are Jews and Muslims who do as well. But what if we came to recognize that we were each God's favorite?
This would make a difference in our interfaith relationships.
This would make a difference in our political battles. (Is anyone else ready for Nov. 6 to get here?!)
This would make a difference in our family life.
This would make a difference everywhere.
As parents we so often talk about how having child #2 (and 3 and 4 and more) only expanded our hearts to give more love. In religious circles we talk about the same thing with God...God loving each of us as if there is only one of us. And yet we often live in ways that are very contrary to these claims.
But what if...what if we would choose to honor the favorite-ness not only in ourselves, but in each other? What if we didn't need to prove our favorite-ness? What if instead we could affirm each others'?
During that lesson I talked about what I've come to call the "Favorite Child Principle."
I talk about it this way...
One day as my mother, sister, and I sat together mom started talking about something she had read. It seems a woman had written letters to each of her four children that they were to receive when she died. In each letter she told each child that he or she was her favorite. She had also concluded by writing in each letter that the recipient should not tell his or her sibilings, after all their feelings would be hurt. My mom ended this story by saying to us, "So when you get your letters, don't tell each other." (You know we will!)
What does that have to do with the three faiths of Abraham, you might ask? Well, the reality is that often we walk around acting as if we are the "favorite child." As a Christian, I know Christians do this. I am sure that there are Jews and Muslims who do as well. But what if we came to recognize that we were each God's favorite?
This would make a difference in our interfaith relationships.
This would make a difference in our political battles. (Is anyone else ready for Nov. 6 to get here?!)
This would make a difference in our family life.
This would make a difference everywhere.
As parents we so often talk about how having child #2 (and 3 and 4 and more) only expanded our hearts to give more love. In religious circles we talk about the same thing with God...God loving each of us as if there is only one of us. And yet we often live in ways that are very contrary to these claims.
But what if...what if we would choose to honor the favorite-ness not only in ourselves, but in each other? What if we didn't need to prove our favorite-ness? What if instead we could affirm each others'?
Sunday, September 9, 2012
What Makes a Christian Family?
Tonight as I was watching Army Wives (one of my favorite television shows) the question of what makes a Christian family was posed.
A young girl was single and pregnant. She had no family support and could barely manage to take care of herself. She was honest enough to know this meant raising a child alone would be difficult. As she came to the point of considering adoption she was connected with a lesbian couple looking for a child. But she had been raised Christian and wanted her child raised Christian. She was asking the question of whether these "sinners" could raise her child correctly.
As you have probably already anticipated, the story resolved with her deciding that perhaps this was an appropriate couple with whom to share her baby. When she went to their home to tell them her decision she said, "I was raised in a Christian family...well, my dad hit my brother and I..." and then she went on to reflect on how if the household of her raising had been more like this household where a lesbian couple was wanting to adopt, perhaps she wouldn't be in this situation.
So, what makes a Christian family?
Is it two parents...a father and a mother...married to each...married only once?
Sometimes.
And sometimes it is a single parent...a gay or lesbian couple...a multigenerational family living together...people who are divorced and remarried...two straight partners who remain unmarried...or even a congregation that adopts children (a headline I read the other day).
What makes a Christian family?
Is it people who go to church regularly, who pray at dinner and bedtime, who know their Bible?
Hopefully.
But more than going to church, hopefully it's people who go to church because they've found a loving community where they experience passionate worship, where they find support and challenge as all members of the family continue to grow in faith. More than praying at set times, hopefully it's people who have developed a deep relationship with God that not only shows up before dinner is tasted, but that informs their living. More than knowing their Bible, hopefully it's being able to think through the texts, to appreciate not what we want them to say but what they are were and are saying, to be shaped into people of love and compassion by them.
What makes a Christian family?
Maybe it's as simple and as complex as what Micah affirms...doing justice, loving kindness, and walking humbly with God.
Maybe it's as simple and as complex as what both the Jewish and Christian scriptures teach...loving God and loving neighbor.
Maybe it's as simple and as complex as compassion and forgiveness and love.
A young girl was single and pregnant. She had no family support and could barely manage to take care of herself. She was honest enough to know this meant raising a child alone would be difficult. As she came to the point of considering adoption she was connected with a lesbian couple looking for a child. But she had been raised Christian and wanted her child raised Christian. She was asking the question of whether these "sinners" could raise her child correctly.
As you have probably already anticipated, the story resolved with her deciding that perhaps this was an appropriate couple with whom to share her baby. When she went to their home to tell them her decision she said, "I was raised in a Christian family...well, my dad hit my brother and I..." and then she went on to reflect on how if the household of her raising had been more like this household where a lesbian couple was wanting to adopt, perhaps she wouldn't be in this situation.
So, what makes a Christian family?
Is it two parents...a father and a mother...married to each...married only once?
Sometimes.
And sometimes it is a single parent...a gay or lesbian couple...a multigenerational family living together...people who are divorced and remarried...two straight partners who remain unmarried...or even a congregation that adopts children (a headline I read the other day).
What makes a Christian family?
Is it people who go to church regularly, who pray at dinner and bedtime, who know their Bible?
Hopefully.
But more than going to church, hopefully it's people who go to church because they've found a loving community where they experience passionate worship, where they find support and challenge as all members of the family continue to grow in faith. More than praying at set times, hopefully it's people who have developed a deep relationship with God that not only shows up before dinner is tasted, but that informs their living. More than knowing their Bible, hopefully it's being able to think through the texts, to appreciate not what we want them to say but what they are were and are saying, to be shaped into people of love and compassion by them.
What makes a Christian family?
Maybe it's as simple and as complex as what Micah affirms...doing justice, loving kindness, and walking humbly with God.
Maybe it's as simple and as complex as what both the Jewish and Christian scriptures teach...loving God and loving neighbor.
Maybe it's as simple and as complex as compassion and forgiveness and love.
Thursday, August 30, 2012
An Open Letter to "Bad" Parents
To all parents who have ever beat themselves up over their parenting, this letter is for you.
If you have ever said no to your child's request for a new toy because she has a room full of toys at home or because you chose to pay the electric bill or because you were saving for retirement or college...you are not a bad parent.
If you have ever yelled at your child because of other things going on rather than because of what he did and then gone and apologized to him, admitting your mistake...you are not a bad parent.
If you have ever cried in front of your child or said a bad word in front of your child or fought with your spouse in front of your child and then had a difficult conversation explaining what they saw or heard...you are not a bad parent.
If you have ever taken your clean, well-fed, loved child to school, sent them off with a hug only to realize later that it was picture day or the day they were supposed to wear their favorite color or the day they were supposed to take something else and you forgot...you are not a bad parent.
Admittedly I am a person who hesitates to use the terms "good" or "bad" for people - whether parents, children, or the clerk at the check out counter. But this is about more than just not wanting parents to call themselves bad...I also think sometimes we need to cut ourselves a break. After all, most of us are doing the best we can with the resources we have at the moment. And we have morphed into this culture of people who feel guilt for what we don't give to or do for our children even when they are not hurt (and sometimes are even helped) by our actions.
So, please, before you beat yourself up over mismatched ponytail holders, limits on television time, nights when you don't read to your children, or days they leave the house in a mess...please remember this...
There are children whose parents buy crack instead of food...
There are children whose parents not only don't have pictures of them but whose parents don't care to even remember they exist...
There are children whose parents smack them around and then tell them it's their fault...
There are children who don't know their own names because their parents only call them bastard...
There are children who have never been told they are loved, have never been shown they are loved, who do not know they are loved.
If you love your child and your child knows it, even if you have room to be better, please remember - you are not a bad parent.
If you have ever said no to your child's request for a new toy because she has a room full of toys at home or because you chose to pay the electric bill or because you were saving for retirement or college...you are not a bad parent.
If you have ever yelled at your child because of other things going on rather than because of what he did and then gone and apologized to him, admitting your mistake...you are not a bad parent.
If you have ever cried in front of your child or said a bad word in front of your child or fought with your spouse in front of your child and then had a difficult conversation explaining what they saw or heard...you are not a bad parent.
If you have ever taken your clean, well-fed, loved child to school, sent them off with a hug only to realize later that it was picture day or the day they were supposed to wear their favorite color or the day they were supposed to take something else and you forgot...you are not a bad parent.
Admittedly I am a person who hesitates to use the terms "good" or "bad" for people - whether parents, children, or the clerk at the check out counter. But this is about more than just not wanting parents to call themselves bad...I also think sometimes we need to cut ourselves a break. After all, most of us are doing the best we can with the resources we have at the moment. And we have morphed into this culture of people who feel guilt for what we don't give to or do for our children even when they are not hurt (and sometimes are even helped) by our actions.
So, please, before you beat yourself up over mismatched ponytail holders, limits on television time, nights when you don't read to your children, or days they leave the house in a mess...please remember this...
There are children whose parents buy crack instead of food...
There are children whose parents not only don't have pictures of them but whose parents don't care to even remember they exist...
There are children whose parents smack them around and then tell them it's their fault...
There are children who don't know their own names because their parents only call them bastard...
There are children who have never been told they are loved, have never been shown they are loved, who do not know they are loved.
If you love your child and your child knows it, even if you have room to be better, please remember - you are not a bad parent.
Saturday, August 11, 2012
We're All the Same
It was almost ten o'clock and the babysitter was expecting us home anytime. As we walked to the car my heart was smiling. I had just dined with new friends at the mosque.
It was last Saturday night...just one week ago today. Several of us who knew the imam through some Interfaith planning had been invited to share an evening with the Islamic community here. We arrived, about an hour before sunset. We were ushered into the prayer room...men through one entrance, women another. We heard the story of an older gentleman who has lived in our community over 50 years - long before there was a local mosque. He spoke of acceptance and peace, of not having to apologize for his faith - things he's receive in our country and our community. Next the imam gave us some basic education about both Islam in general and Ramadan (the holy month they are currently celebrating) in specific.
Then the time came. We moved to the dining rooms and with our new friends we placed dates in our mouths to break the fast (their fast, not ours...I must admit I'd eaten way too much already that day). A quick snack, then a return to the prayer room for prayers at sunset, and finally back to the dining rooms for a meal and conversation.
No wonder my heart was smiling.
Then Monday morning came. As the boys and I were leaving the house my phone rang. It was a gentleman from our church. "The mosque is gone. It's burned to the ground," he said. He drives past there each morning on his way to work and called me as soon as he saw it.
My heart was sad.
All I could picture was the big eyed toddler holding her mama close...the preschool kids jumping off the stage with joy while their parents engaged in prayers...the woman with whom I had shared dinner conversation, talking about parenting and careers...the twins who had been on my own son's soccer team...the gentle imam caring for his congregation.
All I could picture was people with whom, although they worship differently than I, I am very much the same.
It was last Saturday night...just one week ago today. Several of us who knew the imam through some Interfaith planning had been invited to share an evening with the Islamic community here. We arrived, about an hour before sunset. We were ushered into the prayer room...men through one entrance, women another. We heard the story of an older gentleman who has lived in our community over 50 years - long before there was a local mosque. He spoke of acceptance and peace, of not having to apologize for his faith - things he's receive in our country and our community. Next the imam gave us some basic education about both Islam in general and Ramadan (the holy month they are currently celebrating) in specific.
Then the time came. We moved to the dining rooms and with our new friends we placed dates in our mouths to break the fast (their fast, not ours...I must admit I'd eaten way too much already that day). A quick snack, then a return to the prayer room for prayers at sunset, and finally back to the dining rooms for a meal and conversation.
No wonder my heart was smiling.
Then Monday morning came. As the boys and I were leaving the house my phone rang. It was a gentleman from our church. "The mosque is gone. It's burned to the ground," he said. He drives past there each morning on his way to work and called me as soon as he saw it.
My heart was sad.
All I could picture was the big eyed toddler holding her mama close...the preschool kids jumping off the stage with joy while their parents engaged in prayers...the woman with whom I had shared dinner conversation, talking about parenting and careers...the twins who had been on my own son's soccer team...the gentle imam caring for his congregation.
All I could picture was people with whom, although they worship differently than I, I am very much the same.
Sunday, July 22, 2012
Together at the Table
We've spent the last month traveling and in the process taking our children to eight state capitals (after all the six-year-old is currently learning them), each in which we visited the capitol building. (Side note: If anyone can explain to me why the city is spelled with an "a" and the building is spelled with an "o" - I'd love that!)
We visited the capitals of Missouri, Illinois, Kentucky, South Dakota, Wisconsin, Minnesota, Iowa, and Kansas (and if you can tell me all the capital cities, I'll be very proud of you!). As much as I'd love to post pictures of my adorable children at each of the capitol buildings, I'll save you from that and get on with the main story I want to tell which happened at our first capitol building visit in Jefferson City, Missouri (there I gave you one!).
On the first day of our travel we walked into our first capitol building. As we entered the capitol, we walked across the floor and came to the rotunda. We were able to look up at the beautiful dome but also look down. And down on the ground floor, this is what we saw...
We visited the capitals of Missouri, Illinois, Kentucky, South Dakota, Wisconsin, Minnesota, Iowa, and Kansas (and if you can tell me all the capital cities, I'll be very proud of you!). As much as I'd love to post pictures of my adorable children at each of the capitol buildings, I'll save you from that and get on with the main story I want to tell which happened at our first capitol building visit in Jefferson City, Missouri (there I gave you one!).
On the first day of our travel we walked into our first capitol building. As we entered the capitol, we walked across the floor and came to the rotunda. We were able to look up at the beautiful dome but also look down. And down on the ground floor, this is what we saw...
Without missing a beat the four-year-old said, "Look, Mommy, it's where they take communion."
Although my cynical side said, "Yea, right" and my pastor side said, "This child spends too much time in church," I've spent a lot of time thinking about his comment.
And here's what I've been thinking. Wouldn't we all - not just politicians (although yes, them, too) but all of us - be better off if we came around the table together more often. Perhaps the place to do this for some of us is at the communion table - after all, the world would be much improved if just those who proclaim Christianity could actually all value each other. But it's not only at the communion table of the church. We also need more explicitly inclusive tables where we can come together apart from one particular profession to see each other as human, as valued, as cherished, as loved.
What a different world we might live in if we came together at the table.
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