suzannah paul | the smitten word

help or harm? power, intent, & objectification #FitchTheHomeless

noreply@blogger.com (suzannah | the smitten word) — Thu, 16 May 2013 14:13:00 +0000

I tried not to click the link, the one about sticking it to the elitists at Abercrombie & Fitch by outfitting the homeless in their branded gear. It reeked of gimmick and exploitation, so I didn't watch. Until I did.

I'm not gonna link to it. It's findable. The premise is that Abercrombie is terrible (and they are) because they don't want anyone bigger than size ten in their clothes. #FitchtheHomeless' solution? Buy up thrifted Abercrombie stuff, and give it to the homeless! That'll show those sexier-than-thou tools at corporate!

(I'm breaking my first rule of ~~Fight Club~~ Twitter by acknowledging Twitter in this space, but it is what is is.)

#fitchthehomeless is just another way to dehumanize a different group of people. it's no clever dig at A&F when the homeless are punchline.
— the smitten word (@suzannahpaul) May 15, 2013

Abercrombie & Fitch is intentionally branded for fit, white, middle class cool kids. Imagine a similar gotcha! campaign in which A&F clothes were given to bigger-bodied people, underprivileged black kids, or hurting, bullied students, and we were encouraged to photograph them to show their CEO what's what.

That would feel pretty gross, right?

the stunt "works" b/c it's acceptable to dehumanize homeless. we expect them to gratefully accept any and all leftovers. #fitchthehomeless
— the smitten word (@suzannahpaul) May 15, 2013

this is exploitative--> hahaha, homeless people are disgusting! look at your precious brand on the dregs of humanity, LOL! #fitchthehomeless
— the smitten word (@suzannahpaul) May 15, 2013

A non-degrading zinger campaign could have outfitted the elderly in Abercrombie. A&F wants their brand to stay youthful, and recreating their hallmark sexy black and white poses with seniors on Hoverrounds would have made a similar point without the ancillary exploitation. Something like that would have been playful and even provocative, but since Grandma and Grandpa are not generally suffering marginalization or social ostracism, their appearing onscreen would have had a wholly different feel.

Changing the power dynamic changes everything.

I've been writing online for over five years. I occasionally poke sacred cows but have never gotten as much blowback as I did yesterday. It got a little out of control up in my mentions for several hours.

@suzannahpaul Quit being so ignorant or just join sides with A&F already.. What type of person are you?
— Trisha Roberts (@TrishaRoberts23) May 15, 2013

@suzannahpaul it's bc your a big ignorant. They Are doing it bc he refuses to donate them to homeless.
— Amy (@ameliac612) May 15, 2013

A lot of folks were adamant that meaning well is all that matters. If we succeed in pissing off Abercrombie's jerk CEO, and a few homeless folks got some wrong-sized pants in the bargain, what exactly is the problem?

@geraldmitchell @suzannahpaul But the worst case scenario here is that the homeless people are getting clothes on their back !!
— Kevin Wagg (@TheKDOG1970) May 15, 2013

@suzannahpaul You can try to call it a punchline but giving clothes to the homeless is still a benevolent act
— Justin Loranger (@DJ4LMNTZ) May 15, 2013

@suzannahpaul it's donating to people in need, and working toward ending degrading any group.
— Michelle (@shellsglitter) May 15, 2013

Is it really? This kind of drive-by "charity" looks a lot like degradation to me, and I can think of a few things homeless people need more than an Abercrombie tee shirt shoved at them by a stranger with a video camera. Did they get permission to film? Did they even ask their sizes? I didn't see much human kindness in clips casting homeless men and women as little more than voiceless human props.

One of my critics told me, "Sounds like you don't want homeless to have nice things." I guess that depends: nice things like Abercrombie clothes or nice things like dignity, respect, need-based services, homes? There are ways of helping that honor the image of God in human beings, and #FitchTheHomeless isn't that.

@suzannahpaul Guys she wear AnF and was a cool kid in hs so of course she would denounce this idea
— fakeCapinclutch_27 (@Capin_Clutch_27) May 15, 2013

You got me! I am an Abercrombie-wearing Queen Bee hot girl. I am in this to protect the brand.

Abercrombie is an ugly company. They sexualize young people, rely on cheap overseas labor, and are known for discriminatory hiring practices on top of every hateful thing their CEO said. But it's a false choice to suggest that we can either support Abercrombie or #FitchTheHomeless. There are a million ways to damn The Man that don't throw marginalized people under the bus.

Helping well starts with honoring people and upholding their dignity. Treating people as projects or points to be made is behavior every bit as objectifying and dehumanizing as the kind Abercrombie is known for. We can't oppose Abercrombie's body snark and bad ethics by turning homeless people into one-dimensional branded billboards for something we loathe. That's careless slacktivism, not altruism.

If you want to help the homeless, do it! Get involved with an on-the-ground agency like the L.I.V.I.N.G. Ministry on Pittsburgh's North Side. Find out what specific kinds of donations they need. (It might not be clothes.) Volunteer. Show up. Meet real people. Find out what housing insecurity looks like in your area. Learn.

I could say so much more about misguided top-down charity, magical intent, or humor that attempts to punch up by punching down, but I need to wrap this up. I'd love to hear your thoughts in the comments.

the space between

noreply@blogger.com (suzannah | the smitten word) — Tue, 07 May 2013 01:21:00 +0000

It’s trickier cultivating friendships as an adult, isn’t it? Babies and kids complicate the equation, but it was hard before that, too, like I graduated from college and my natural ability to connect with people my age. Cutting through the pleasantries dividing strangers from friends takes so much longer without the shared schedules and housing that once made it second nature.

Do we age out of being open to intimacy? Are we too tired to make the effort? Too narrowly focused? Did we forget along the way how to let each other in?

Join me over at A Deeper Story, where I'm talking about community, social media, and personality type. See ya there.

so beautiful it hurts to look at you

noreply@blogger.com (suzannah | the smitten word) — Wed, 01 May 2013 03:34:00 +0000

April's end is fling-wide-the-windows
coffee on the porch
lunch al fresco and
honest to goodness dandelion-and-dogwood
Spring, God be praised.

Resurrection smells of fresh mown grass,
tastes sweet as blueberry ice cream.
We dig out bikes from the shed
and the dirt in the garden, sinking
bean poles that reach for the sky.
A new trail opens, we tie on sneakers and
emerge from hibernation. Stretching limbs we blink and
breathe in this new day, its dawning grace.

---

Western Pennsylvania winters encroach on fall and spring like choking vine. On my mopiest days, I am certain that we endure but two seasons here, Summer Camp and The Winter Of My Discontent, but the proof is in the pictures and the skip in my step today.

Spring has sprung. (Leeeeeaaaaaves!!!)

I'm playing along with HopefulLeigh's monthly What I'm Into link-up. This April I'm also down with:

Morel mushrooms. Jim's been foraging, and we cook 'em in butter and garlic and YUM.
Chickens pecking about. (Less down with the fox who ate one just off our deck, though.)
Three little piglets at the neighbors' house.
Grilling season.
Renew & Refine Retreat for Writers. I'm so excited to spend time learning and writing and having a little fun before summer camp wreaks its havoc. (And it's not too late to spend Memorial weekend with us...The code BREATHE gets you $25 off.)
Mad Men. I still love that and Scandal. (There doesn't seem to be a lot else one right now, is there?) I mainlined two season of AMC's The Killing on Netflix in an embarrassingly short amount of time, and it's coming back for a third season soon. Jim thought it was slow, but I was hooked on the characters, emotional depth, and mystery.
You already know I've been reading Bread & Wine, Carry On, Warrior, What It Is Is Beautiful, and The Mermaid of Brooklyn. I'm also reading (and LOVING) The Prophetic Imagination, but more on that another time--or better yet, head over to Kelley Nikondeha's for a week's worth of reflections.
I used a birthday gift certificate to buy a weighted hippie-made hula hoop with fiery stripes. It seemed like the right thing to do.
Library story hour. I drop both kids off on Wednesday mornings for one glorious hour in which they are thoroughly charmed and I am blissfully uninterrupted. Magic, I tell ya.
The kiddos are turning a corner. It's part timing and all grace, but we're hitting a stride. Dylan's not Too Old, and James isn't Too Little. We're out of diapers and babyhood but not yet in school, a fun place where they're little and "big" at all once, and they really are best friends. Hallelujah and Amen.

(an ongoing record of God's goodness, #400-423)

What's catching your eye and capturing your heart of late? (100 points for knowing to what my post title alludes.)

the mermaid of brooklyn

noreply@blogger.com (suzannah | the smitten word) — Mon, 29 Apr 2013 19:51:00 +0000

In tv land, there are generally two roles for the thirty-something woman: the (sexy) childless career woman or the (sexy) mother of a (sexy) teenager, a decidedly more supporting role. Motherhood dominates a commercial landscape for everything from paper towels to snack food, toothpaste, and air fresheners, but sustained storylines about parenting little ones are few and far between.

I posted a musing about this on facebook once, and a tired mom, admitting her own preference for escapist entertainment responded, Who wants to watch stories about real life?

I do, I thought. Not stories about diapers and crying, of course, but honest narrative about motherhood, relationships, change, identity, sex, self image, community, family, depression, joy, struggle, work, worth, meaning? Absolutely.

The Mermaid of Brooklyn is that story seldom told, a rare jewel and rough diamond both.

The sophomore novel from Brooklyn dwelling writer Amy Shearn is loosely based on her own great-grandmother, Jenny Lipkin, whose husband disappears one night without a word. He goes out for cigarettes and fails to return, leaving Jenny with their infant and toddler, his dog, and a host of questions.

The story takes place one scorching summer in Park Slope. It could be an enjoyable beach read, but it's no frivolous fluff piece. Shearn writes with honest insight and biting wit about new motherhood and the inevitable trials that set us off, set us adrift, or set us free.

Lipkin is a fascinating protagonist, because although she is not tremendously likable, she is strikingly relatable, and as a reader, you do want to see her succeed The book takes a novel turn into the waters of magical realism, a charming plot device that serves the story and doesn't take away from its more down-to-earth enchantments.

I don't want to give anything away, but I especially liked the sensuality that Shearn imbues Jenny with as she re-learns to navigate her own body even while sharing so much of it with her young family. It was tender and true picture of life-after-baby.

Darkly funny, smart, and resonant, The Mermaid of Brooklyn tells a true tale about relationships, parenthood, second-guessing and starting over, even when today looks exactly like yesterday and the day before that.

Who is telling good stories about motherhood--or of women as more than romantic leads--in books, television, or movies? Are you reading/watching anything good lately?

TLC Book Tours hooked me up with a book, but these opinions are all mine. But you knew that;) Affiliate links, yo.

what it is is beautiful {giveaway}

noreply@blogger.com (suzannah | the smitten word) — Thu, 25 Apr 2013 15:05:00 +0000

I'm thrilled today to introduce you to Sarah Dunning Park, although since she is poet-in-residence for a little media empire known as Simple Mom, you may already be thoroughly charmed by her lyrical take on aspects of motherhood both sacramental and mundane. Her first volume of poetry, What It Is Is Beautiful: Honest Poems for Mothers of Small Children, had its official release this month, but I was lucky enough to receive my own copy when Sarah and I met up at our alma mater last May.

Sarah and I traveled in similar circles in college, but she graduated early, and I never got to know her as well as I wanted. Reconnecting last year on Twitter and then again in person for an afternoon with her and her girls was a delicious treat and exactly what my heart needed.

Sarah's a good mama, not because she's perfect or put together but because she's honest and kind. She generously agreed to share a poem here as well as a copy of her new book with one reader. (Yay!) It's available for only $4.38 right now at Amazon, so you might as well pick up a few for gifts. Mother's Day is just around the corner, and these poems are a cup of cool water and a needed "me too" to harried mamas in search of a little peace amid the storm of parenting littles.

Keeping the Peace

I saw it out of the corner of my eye,

noticed its tall, silver form
long before naming it in my mind:
heron. It perched, utterly graceful and
still, on a fallen trunk that sloped down
into the creek we cross over every day.
Fog was rising from the water,
and I wished I could stop the car,
approach quietly with camera in hand,
and somehow arrest the moment—
then lift it, intact, to take with me
as an emblem for the day.

Instead I turned away
to face the road again,
letting the moment flick past
like the flipping of channels,
and swallowing my awareness
that we live in a world with—herons.
The children were slumped behind me,
only just lulled into a dubious harmony
that would no doubt be shattered
if we stopped, or if I called out
for them to notice this marvel,
already now behind us.

I envisioned
three heads swiveling,
eager to broaden their horizons
with the wonders of the natural world.
Then I pictured a careless elbow
clipping a seatmate on the chin,
and two sets of hands clawing
at the sibling with the prime view—
of this animal
who has had the good sense to freeze
as we go barreling past.

No, I decided
(and it felt ungenerous):
today I would choose to keep
this emblem of peace to myself,
not sharing it with them directly,
but thereby preserving
the absence of conflict in the backseat,
and the heron’s solitary breakfast,
and perhaps most important,
that rare jewel—peace of mind—
for me.

To enter to win a copy of What It Is Is Beautiful, leave a comment in the vein of mothering or poetry, and we'll pick a winner Sunday night at 11:59 PM.

unsponsored content. affiliate links. please don't repost sarah's work without permission. you know the drill.

carry on, warrior

noreply@blogger.com (suzannah | the smitten word) — Thu, 25 Apr 2013 05:24:00 +0000

If you visit the internets now and again, it is likely that you have come across the words of Glennon Doyle Melton of Momastery. Even if you've never read her, your sister, neighbor, or mom probably has: her post Don't Carpe Diem has 305,000 facebook shares, and that was before the Huffington Post syndicated it.

Girlfriend knows how to write words that connect, and Carry On, Warrior: Thoughts on Life Unarmed does just that. It's a roaringly funny, painfully honest, and uncommonly kind collection of personal narrative essays on life, recovery, family, truth-telling, faith, and loving well. Not everyone will appreciate Glennon's flawed-and-flighty-with-a-heart-of gold persona, but I did (and I'm not a regular reader of hers). She comes across as wildly over the top at times, but there is still something resonant and real within the silliness and self-deprecation.

A bit of the content has been previously published on her blog, which is kind of a bummer, except that they are still remarkably powerful essays. Every time, I'd be like, Man, I've totally read this one before! and then before I knew it, I was weeping or almost peeing my pants with laughter again, which speaks to the power of her storytelling.

Glennon might come across as too Jesus-y for folks who aren't religious and a little too much for some Christians (and others), but I found her grace and humor to be disarming and refreshing. I read a few passages aloud to Jim, and he loved it, too, so I'm pretty sure it's not a Women's Book (and also that Women's Books are not, in fact, real things).

Books that really make me laugh are rare, so I'll recommend them every time. There's more than enough outrage to go around, and sometimes you want to read something that makes you feel like the world isn't such a terrible place. Carry On, Warrior is like that.

TLC Book Tours hooked me up with a book, but these opinions are all mine. But you knew that;) Affiliate links, yo.

Dove's "real beauty" is a charade

noreply@blogger.com (suzannah | the smitten word) — Wed, 17 Apr 2013 14:19:00 +0000

Jim and I had the tv on this weekend, and a certain ad had me shaking my head and waxing feminist about the difference between the marketing of products to men and women.

Drink this beer...Get a hot chick!

Shave with this gel...Get a hot chick!

Buy this domain...Get a hot chick!

Advertising geared toward women is a different beast entirely, creating fears and providing "solutions" to embarrassing problems we never knew existed in our bodies and homes.

Your couch smells! Your house smells! You smell, not just at the gym but probably on your subway commute, too!

Your (off-white!) teeth are crawling with "bugs"!

Your lashes aren't lush!

Your thighs don't "gap"!

Your hair is flat! Your color dull!

And apparently, there's also something wrong with our armpits. They're not pretty enough, and we're probably not "ready" for sleeveless shirts, no matter what the weather report says.

Yup, the ad that inspired my mini tirade this weekend was created by none other than Dove, the "real beauty" company that brought us that feel-good viral ad that everyone was sharing on social media yesterday.

I should be more grateful of my natural beauty. It impacts the choices and the friends that we make, the jobs we apply for, how we treat our children.

It impacts everything. It couldn't be more critical to your happiness.

Beauty couldn't be more critical to your happiness. Imma go ahead and call that a fat corporate lie, peddled by a company with a vested interest in our believing that they can sell us both. Beauty and happiness are fleeting, at least the versions that come in a lipstick tube or can be purchased on credit. Those pleasures fade, but their elusive promise is a carrot that we keep chasing despite our better judgment.

If only we were skinnier--or curvier. If our arms were sculpted, our nail beds nicer, our lips fuller, our skin darker (or lighter), our stomachs flatter, our butts rounder, our breasts perkier, our hair smoother...THEN we would finally be truly happy, right?

(Because if we've learned anything at all, it's that beautiful people are the happiest. Celebrities, for instance. Um...)

We spend a lot of time as women analyzing and trying to fix the things that aren't quite right, and we should spend more time appreciating the things that we do like.

Just not our armpits, right? Dove, you're kinda full of crap. You can't sell "real beauty" with a side of insecurity; that's not how this works. Yes, women experience happiness when we feel pretty, but joy is a much deeper well, which you'll never bottle, no matter how hard you try.

Joy arises from inhabiting bodies of all shapes fully and well, and women are not ornaments, shells, or prizes to be won. I may feel happy when I wear a pretty dress, but I experience joy when I dance, recognizing my own body's strength through work or play. With our hands we comfort and serve, and we are so much more than than our skin.

Joy is being present to the moment, loving and being loved, and the satisfaction of a job well-done. It's using our gifts to make the world better, lighting the darkness, and lightening one another's load. My joy is wrapped up in yours; we find happiness in connection and in the beauty of kindness, community, and truth.

Beauty is critical to happiness insofar as it is understood to be something greater than anything that can be photoshopped or purchased at a drugstore. Neither age nor "unsightly" armpits are a threat to the lasting beauty that springs from kind hearts and good works.

(And Dove? I like my deodorant without toxins, thanks.)

bread & wine: a love letter

noreply@blogger.com (suzannah | the smitten word) — Tue, 16 Apr 2013 21:50:00 +0000

Bread & Wine, Shauna Niequist's latest offering of essays are as charming and disarming as we've come to expect from this warm-hearted storyteller. The icing on the cake is the additional treat of favorite recipes which perfectly frame a narrative built around eating and hospitality.

Her stories are sensuous and evocative, celebrating memories shared around tables and the ways we nourish more than bodies in the breaking of bread. Shauna makes you want to cook and more than that, to feed people. Her vision of hospitality is one we seem to have lost along the way and long for again.

This is not a book about "entertaining" or showing off but eating together, eating simply, and eating well. She shares travel stories, heartbreaks, and lessons learned in community, balance, and embodied living. You definitely come away wanting to share a meal at Shauna's house, but it's still relatable: she confesses to serving cheese and crackers for dinner and admits it can be easier to feed a crowd than cook for your family day in and day out. She offers practical tips for doing both better, sharing her own learning process in between honest stories about friendship, parenting, celebration, shared burdens, and eating with joy.

I read an advanced copy that was missing a few recipes (although I have them in my inbox), and I look forward to putting more into my rotation. I did make her Breakfast Cookies. They were a little too wholesome for my picky eaters, who longed for a bite of chocolate with their banana, coconut, and oats, but they've been good for me before or after workouts.

I've been dressing salads in simple oil and vinegar for months, but Shauna convinced me that homemade vinaigrette can be just as simple and twice as versatile. Olive oil is no good in the fridge, but a maple Dijon balsamic dressing can sit out on the counter for up to a week and is as tasty on roasted asparagus as it is on greens (and probably quite good as a marinade, too). I've already made it twice, no measuring.

I definitely want to try the Dark Chocolate Sea Salted Butter Toffee and Annette's Enchiladas because hers look simpler than the way I make them, and I keep hearing rave reviews.

Both down-to-earth and inspiring, Bread & Wine captures the pleasures of fresh food, full-bodied flavor, and life shared around the table.

Gather the people you love around your table and feed them with love and honesty and creativity. Feed them with your hands and the flavors and smells that remind you of home and beauty and the best stories you've ever heard, the best stories you've ever lived.
There will be a day when it all falls apart...There are things we can't change. Not one of them. Can't fix, can't heal, can't put the broken pieces back together. But what I can do is offer myself, wholehearted and present, to walk with the people I love through the fear and the mess. That's all any of us can do. That's what we're here for. (come to the table, Bread & Wine)

review copy provided by zondervan. opinions mine, affiliate links, what-have-have. as you were, soldier.

waging peace: conflict, christian unity, & power

noreply@blogger.com (suzannah | the smitten word) — Tue, 09 Apr 2013 04:14:00 +0000

There are people who hate conflict. It makes them sweaty and sick, and they avoid it like the plague.

I am not one of those people.

It's not that I like to fight or anything. I'm not all balls-out, guns-blazing, I-will-CUT-you! I just happen to believe that conflict is inevitable, necessary, healthy, and not inherently indicative of battle lines drawn, Us vs. Them, or all-out-war. My life is full of people with whom I disagree about a million things, and we manage to love each other all the same.

I'm realizing that my (relative) comfort with conflict is a minority position in some Christian circles, where civil disagreement can be conflated with attack and one of The Worst sins: disunity.

Whenever Christians get to disagreeing, as we're wont to do, someone inevitably waves the "UNITY!" banner, imploring folks to pipe down and get along. This is understandable, to a certain degree. We are supposed to be known by our love and what-not.

But conflict itself is not a threat to peace, and those pleas for unity rarely occur on neutral ground. When the Supreme Court was considering marriage equality, I read arguments by Christians on the right and the left about how disagreements were a distraction from what God really cares about.

Now, I don't fault folks for prioritizing their own passions, but one person's "issue" is another another's life. If I, as a straight/cisgender person, can ignore the fact that LGBT Americans do not share many of the rights that I take for granted, my "opting out" is a luxury and a privilege, not proof of my own enlightenment. It's also a wildly presumptuous leap to project my own apathy onto God.

Unity pleas do not occur in a vacuum, and they can come off as silencing dissent when issued by Christians for whom the "fight" is not personal. Those without a horse dismiss the race with record speed, but not having stake in the battle du jour should never be confused with the moral authority to explain how there are bigger fish to fry--or the ability to impart God's own perspective!

There are uneven power differentials at play within many conflicts. Glossing over them not only misses the heart of much disagreement, it impedes the very reconciliation those unity pleas strive for. The most heated conflicts are deeply personal, and injustice and hurt may bring the most heat of all. We all have unique perspectives and intrinsic value, but if someone is being hurt, silenced, marginalized or oppressed inside a conflict, that inequality bears profoundly on its resolution.

Unity pleas sound noble, but they cannot bring about healing or justice, and without those, there can be no real unity--just the appearance of it.

Conflict must be worked through and harm accounted for, even the hurt we never intended. We rarely hurt each other on purpose, but good intentions don't mean never having to say you're sorry. We are responsible for our words, actions, and inactions; meaning well alone is not absolution.

I generally mean well, and I hurt people all the time, usually the ones I love the most. Everybody jacks shit up--and we rarely intend to at all. Christians who believe that we're all sinners should know this better than anyone, but again and again, we act as though meaning-well covers over a multitude of (our own) sins.

But that's not how it works. People rarely intend to be racist or misogynistic, and yet well-intentioned people say and do hurtful and oppressive things all the time. This doesn't make us bad people but human people, and part of being human is being accountable for our behavior. We all mess up, and hurt isn't any more palatable just because the offending party didn't mean it.

If a wounded party has already experienced marginalization because of race, gender, sexuality, abuse, etc., conflict may be experienced within a deeper, more personal context and pattern of inequality, which matters a great deal if we care about unity, peace, and love. If someone lets me know that my words or actions caused pain, I need to account for that, especially as a person of privilege. I need to listen, and I need to make it right.

So yes, by all means, let's assign positive intent. Let's not assume that people intended us harm (or that our own critics' beef with us is personal--or sinful). But then let's also choose to acknowledge the power dynamics at play and take responsibility for our own behavior before pleading, "Can't we we all just get along?"

There are no shortcuts around conflict into unity. Unity involves forgiveness and loving well, but it is also about righting wrongs. Conflict is not a threat, especially to a unity that did not exist in the first place. If there are inequalities within a community, pleas for unity may unwittingly endorse the status quo. Real peace is not kept but made, forged in fire, and hard-won. Unity is like peacemaking, and it won't be achieved without the kind of love that sees conflict through all the way to the wholeness of shalom.

come on now, sugar

noreply@blogger.com (suzannah | the smitten word) — Fri, 05 Apr 2013 14:22:00 +0000

It was a long winter. The kids were sick, Jim traveled, and I drank coffee for breakfast and forgot to eat proper meals. It was dark, grey, and white, and there were days we never changed out of our pajamas. The kids fought, and I yelled, and I ate to cheer myself up, because apparently, I am a person who does that. Maybe I always did.

I'm at A Deeper Story today talking about bodies and babies and coming in from the cold. Join me there.

to love is to serve is to liberate

noreply@blogger.com (suzannah | the smitten word) — Wed, 03 Apr 2013 21:33:00 +0000

When Jesus removed his outer garment and knelt to wash his followers' dusty, dirty feet, it was a profound act of humility.

Taking the very nature of a servant

To love is to serve, to bow low that others may be honored. To set aside power that the humble may be exalted.

A new command I give you: Love one another. As I have loved you, so you must love one another. By this everyone will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.

Christ's love risked personal discomfort, community dissension, and his own life.

he humbled himself
by becoming obedient to death—
even death on a cross!

But the Christian story does not fade out on one humble man's unjust execution. It is not a tale of submission as an end in itself or a pie-in-the-sky gospel of get-along, wait it out, it gets better, suffer, sisters!

It was just before the Passover Festival.

The foot washing, Last Supper, and Christ's arrest happen in the context of celebrating the Israelites' liberation from slavery in Egypt. Jesus serves his friends and submits to death not because he is compelled, but because he is free, demonstrating that the power of God and Love is greater than the power of empire or anything else. He

did not consider equality with God something to be used to his own advantage

Christ's humility and service honored a God who liberates the oppressed, breaking every literal and metaphoric chain. To love is to serve is to liberate. "On the night he was handed over to suffering and death, our Lord Jesus Christ..."

showed them the full extent of his love.

Jesus wasn't a nice guy or martyr but a servant-leader. His service was radical for the way he laid down his own authority. His ministry consistently upended cultural norms, transgressing myriad religious, ethnic, gender, and class barriers. His love is inextricable entwined with the laying down of power and the lifting up the vulnerable, lowly, and despised.

having disarmed the powers and authorities, he made a public spectacle of them, triumphing over them by the cross.

With one empty tomb, Jesus demolished hierarchies, humiliating the oppressive religious and political powers that hung him naked and bleeding to a tree. He subverted their symbols of dominance and shame, exposing their blood thirst and impotence by his own humility, forgiveness, and resurrecting, all-things-made-new power.

To love is to serve is to liberate. Christ washing his disciples' feet hearkens back to the exodus and ahead to the cross and empty tomb.

It is for freedom that Christ has set us free. Stand firm, then, and do not let yourselves be burdened again by a yoke of slavery.

Yes, we are called to deny ourselves and pick up our own crosses but never to nail each other up on one. To follow Jesus is to tread the way of suffering and death all the way to Sunday, when old yokes shattered and a new day dawned.

We are an Easter people. Christ is risen and his Kingdom comes, on earth as it is in heaven. The last are first, the dead are raised, and all things shall be healed. In his Name all oppression shall cease.

We'll follow Jesus down the path of servanthood, flattened hierarchies, and radical love. We'll follow him into repentance, freedom, and resurrecting life.

Our strengths, weaknesses, experiences, privileges, and perspectives are unique, so we won't bind each other to the specific, personal ways we discern God's leading in our own lives. We'll seek unity without uniformity, but never on the backs of brothers and sisters who are hurting. We won't agree on everything but will hold our tongues from crying, "Peace, peace," when there is no peace.

It's a hard and hallowed path, but we're in this together as family, co-laborers, pilgrims, prophets, priests, ministers, reconcilers, servant-leaders, and friends. We are God's workmanship, Christ's Body and Bride: uniquely gifted, irrevocably called, assuredly beloved, and free indeed.

raising daughters & sons to subvert purity culture: 7 things

noreply@blogger.com (suzannah | the smitten word) — Tue, 02 Apr 2013 11:35:00 +0000

1. Each of us derives our inherent, unshakable worth from being created in the image of God. Human worth cannot be measured by appearance, achievement, or "sexual purity" (a dubious and harmful construct). Every person is loved and valued. Full stop.

2. We are each responsible for our own choices, sins, and lusts. Be wise, be humble, and be free.

3. We set our own boundaries for touch. No person is entitled to touch another without his or her express permission. This applies in discipline, affection, play, aggression, arousal, comfort...pretty much any circumstance that isn't an emergency. Consent is not implied.

4. People are not objects. Objectification reduces human worth to sexual or social utility. People don't objectify themselves; we objectify them by seeing them as objects existing for our own pleasure (or judgment) instead of people created in the image of God.

5. Be media literate, choosing a path not of fear or passivity but savvy discernment. Test everything.

6. Our bodies and sexuality were created by God, and they are good. We're called to honor God and others with--not in spite of!--our bodies and sexuality, even as single and celibate people. Purity is demonstrated not by hemlines but hearts.

7. Love God. Love your neighbor as you love yourself. Jesus summed up 613 commands in those short two. Let us seek not to add to but to lighten one another's burdens. Live in love.

This post came out of an online conversation I stumbled across about modesty and raising daughters. What would you change or add?

darkness came over the whole land

noreply@blogger.com (suzannah | the smitten word) — Fri, 29 Mar 2013 14:33:00 +0000

“Shall I crucify your king?” Pilate asked.

“We have no king but Caesar!”

He did not open his mouth. See him there, bruised and beaten. A man of suffering, familiar with pain. We esteemed him not.

“Hail, king of the Jews!

“Father, forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing.”

I have a Lenten meditation this Good Friday over at Jennifer Luitwieler's site today. Click here to read the whole thing.

purity of heart is to will one thing (sex & the evangelical over/under-sell)

noreply@blogger.com (suzannah | the smitten word) — Mon, 25 Mar 2013 16:18:00 +0000

I.

Ann Voskamp wrote a compelling response to the verdict in Steubenville, framed as a letter to her sons. It offered prophetic affirmation of men and women, and I was grateful she turned her grace words to light dark corners of both church and culture (even if the language of "real manhood" makes me bristle).

But I keep turning over this line in my mind:

Unless a man looks to Jesus, a man doesn't know how to treat a woman.

Yes, Jesus provided an exemplary (and radical) model of honoring women, but plenty of men love women well without looking to Jesus for the blueprint. Christians can be just as selfish and messed up as the next guy. It's our hope that sets us apart more than anything else; God knows it's not the Church's record with women!

God is Love. A man who treats women with dignity and respect demonstrates the love of God, even unwittingly. A person who serves others sacrificially loves like Jesus, whether or not she follows him herself. Love is of God. There is no love (or goodness or truth) apart from God, but Christians hold no monopoly on those or any virtues. God is so much bigger than our imagination, doctrine, and constructs.

Wendell Berry said, “There are no unsacred places; there are only sacred places and desecrated places.” God is present in his creation and our relationships. His love is at work within and around all of us, whether we've eyes to see or not. Every good and perfect gift is from above.

II.

To talk adequately about Steubenville is to talk about consent, but Christian sin-and-purity teachings have failed us in this realm. We pit Premarital Sex against Married Sex, rarely acknowledging where Sex You Didn't Choose falls on that matrix. If my body is a temple, can I be desecrated, left to ruin? (No!) If we are not our own, can we still speak frankly about honoring the bodily autonomy of others? (YES.)

Looking back at the boys I dated before Jim, the only one who initiated a conversation about physical boundaries was not a Christian, yet he treated me with more respect than some of his faith-filled peers. Christians are comfortable speaking the language of No, but we need to learn the language of Yes, recognizing that boundaries aren't firstly about proof texts (or gender roles!) but loving our neighbors as ourselves and not treating people like objects. (The ways the Church teaches modesty can also be every bit as objectifying as our sex-soaked culture, reducing women and men to body parts.)

Can we learn to speak the language of consent, grace, sacrament, and the inherent worth of every person as easily as we speak of sin? If the Church truly wants to esteem women like Jesus does, we have a long road ahead of us.

III.

"Sexual purity" is not, as far as I can tell, a scriptural concept at all, and I vote we strike it from the record. Purity stands, but that biblical virtue is related far more closely to what's in our hearts than our pants. Yes, Christians are called to be set apart and not conformed to the world, but not like this. Jesus fulfilled the exacting requirements for ritual purity long ago, and evangelical obsession with "sexual purity" reads more like Levitical law than the way of Jesus.

Can we look at the synonyms for impurity for a sec? Go ahead and add "sexual" as a qualifier to any of these, and try not to wince:

contamination, corruption, defilement, dirt, filth, grime, pestilence, poisoning, pollution, scum, stain, taint, uncleanness

No wonder Christians have so many hang-ups about sex and bodies! Careless language and terrible metaphors lead us astray and into some pretty abysmal theological territory. We've entangled sex with the language of dirt and shame to the point that it's extraordinarily difficult to decipher a Christian narrative about healthy, holy sexuality. We tread in heretical gnostic territory when we fail to distinguish attraction from lust and physical response from sin. The language of sexual purity heaps shame not only on lustful pursuits but on any expression of natural desire, and this is not God's design.

We are embodied people. We are sexual people (even when we are celibate). Sexuality isn't something that lays dormant until ya put a ring on it. It's part of what it means to be human, created by God. The Incarnate Emmanuel refutes any claim that human bodies are anything but good.

Christians can love God and the bible and still do this better than we are right now. If the Church truly believes that sex is holy and our bodies are fearfully and wonderfully made, then let's re-frame our conversations about both with care, forgoing lazy metaphors, bad theology, and excuses about how "We didn't mean it like that."

Words matter. They hold the power to create life (kinda like sex), so lets revere them both, honoring God and one another with our bodies and our words. Like Ann reminds us, let's look to Jesus, treating each other with reverence, purity, and great love.

saving my life {& a pass-along book club?}

noreply@blogger.com (suzannah | the smitten word) — Sat, 23 Mar 2013 21:21:00 +0000

It's been a while since I've counted, and since I'm feeling a bit grumpy about the interminable cold and cooped-up-ness we got going here, I figured it was time to dust of the old list.

an ongoing record of God's goodness, #375-399

turning 33

breakfast in bed, reminiscing about our time in Napa last spring

a birthday afternoon at the spa (look OUT)

homemade carrot cake, cuz my man don't play

tapping trees

maple syrup and pancakes

sugar shack field trip with this guy

lenten soup suppers and

Compline

Friday fish fries

bold teachers and life lessons

daffodils prophesying life

Not Less Than Everything

fiction exploring a love of music and the sacred ordinary

Dylan reading up a storm

a real and true double date with real and true friends

new local wine bar in middle-of-nowhere-PA

kind friends to watch the babes

Call The Midwife (streaming free at pbs)

discovering Scandal, a show (sans teenagers and zombies) that Jim and I both enjoy

i sent my copy of Beyond The Impossible to Emily Maynard, and now i'm thinking how great a big cross-country book club would be. you mark up a book and mail it to the next person on this list. i participated in one like this years ago and loved it. who else would be down?

seeing a unicorn: my sparkling clean kitchen

singing along at the top of my lungs as I work

tiny feet getting their dance on

the Gathering Field

Where are you finding joy? Tell me something good.

linking up with my girl HopefulLeigh's What I'm Into round-up

speaking life, disarming love

noreply@blogger.com (suzannah | the smitten word) — Tue, 19 Mar 2013 13:14:00 +0000

Spring lies waiting. It’s twenty-odd degrees, but daffodils arise unflappable. If they can believe in spite of the evidence, so can we.

You’re best friends. I speak it like prophesy. The words-make-flesh and dwell among us.

--

I have a guest post over at Tanya Marlow's blog for her God and Suffering series. It's about parenting when it's hard. (It's always sort of hard, isn't it--or is that just me?) Come by and read, and stay for Tanya's own words, so seasoned with grace and wisdom.

not less than everything

noreply@blogger.com (suzannah | the smitten word) — Mon, 18 Mar 2013 02:40:00 +0000

This born and bred Protestant found Not Less Than Everything: Catholic Writers on Heroes of Conscience to be a timely and thoroughly engaging anthology. Some profiles were familiar (Oscar Romero, Dorothy Day, Mary Magdalene, Ignatius of Loyola) but many were not, and the essays whet my curiosity for more.

The thread that unites these historical and contemporary figures is a faith expression that put them at odds with their communities and quite often, Church authority. These diverse portraits of dissent, struggle, courage, and deep faithfulness offer much to challenge and encourage the catholic Church universal. My copy is well marked, and I'm still reflecting on the essays days later, which range from historical profiles to intimate tributes to beloved mentors. In the collection, church history bleeds into narrative, personal devotion, politics, current headlines, social action, parish life, and more than a few dark nights of the soul for the clergy, academics, artists, activists, and faithful profiled within.

"The establishment is always loyal to the very institutionalism of the institution in question. The dissenter is always most loyal instead to what the institution itself claims to be about" (61). This is the heart of the book and its stories of faith practiced in ways that were perceived as unorthodox (and perhaps even heretical) but were born of deep desire to serve both God and Church wholeheartedly.

One of the most fascinating essays for me was about Bartolome de Las Casas, a priest who served as chaplain during the Spanish conquest of Cuba. The gruesome horrors he witnessed led him to give up his land and slaves, becoming a vocal opponent of the Conquest and critic of his Church that sanctioned it.

Bartolome's belief in human dignity, religious freedom, and evangelism without force were remarkable for his time. The way he opposed unjust political and religious authority, identifying Jesus with the suffering and persecuted resembled twentieth century liberation theology. In fact, Gustavo Gutierrez wrote a book about de Las Casas, attributing much of his own thinking to the sixteenth century friar who said, "I leave in the Indies Jesus Christ, our God, scourged and afflicted and beaten and crucified not once, but thousands of times."

The book also paints a compelling portrait of contemporary Catholics wrestling with Old World theology, current abuse scandals, and a faith at once ancient and timeless. It provides a glimpse into what drives some Catholics away while others remain as solidly committed as ever to the Church and faith, even while finding themselves at odds with ecclesiastical authority.

Not Less Than Everything is a worthy read for history buffs, theology nerds, progressive (and other) Catholics, Protestants wanting to learn more about Catholicism, those disenchanted with Church wondering "Can I stay?", justice advocates, authority-buckers, rule-breakers, and any Christian seeking to be encouraged by the communion of sometimes unlikely saints.

"When first confronted, this artist's work will look irreverent to those called to maintenance and preservation. But the artist, eyes open, hand extended, knee bent, is striving for perfect fidelity" (115).

Review copy provide by TLC Book Tours. Opinions mine. Affiliate links. As you were, soldier.

without walls

noreply@blogger.com (suzannah | the smitten word) — Thu, 14 Mar 2013 19:26:00 +0000

Grieve not the Spirit, sister;
your brothers' blood cries out from the ground.
Be not afraid to claim your kin, for
Christ is not ashamed to call us his and
he our peace. For once, we are
not strangers but citizen heirs of
one household of God.

One Lord
One faith, to
One hope are we called

One baptism
One Body, many gifts.
One Giver
One work
One Table
One Church

The house of God built not of
mortared walls but bone and flesh:
hearts beating, breaking and bound

up in mine. Belonging, the Spirit dwells

in our midst. Wither or bloom,

we are keeper and kindred;

bearing burdens and fruit,

wear love well.

i am the 47%

noreply@blogger.com (suzannah | the smitten word) — Wed, 06 Mar 2013 13:19:00 +0000

As it turned out, government cheese is Helluva Good. We ate it for four and half years, and I really did see it as part of God's provision for our family. Uncle Sam's garbanzo beans floated us through the lean seasons, which lasted from autumn until tax time.

Sitting on the other side of the desk to turn in our pay stubs was humbling, like nearly every check-out experience at the grocery store.

"MANAGEMENT TO REGISTER FOUR FOR A PROBLEM WITH A WIC CHECK. PROBLEM WITH A WIC CHECK, REGISTER FOUR."

I learned to shop at the out of town supermarket, to not dress Too Nice, and to divide my groceries meticulously, with a babe in the sling and a toddler in the cart.

It's getting real at A Deeper Story today. May I tell you a secret?

{Image credit}

all oppression shall cease: a feminist theology of power

noreply@blogger.com (suzannah | the smitten word) — Mon, 25 Feb 2013 19:33:00 +0000

One time at Jesus camp, a stranger called the office to ask if I would "give my sexual testimony" at a local purity retreat. I declined their request, because WHAT, but it still cracks me up every time I remember. This is not that (you're welcome), but it is, in a way, my feminist testimony. How's that for an intro?

I didn't grow up in a feminist home and never took a women's studies class, but academia still played a key role in my understanding of feminism. I got my BA in religion and history and spent a semester studying poverty and community change in Washington D.C. Those disciplines and experiences rooted me in where we've come and awakened a desire to keep forging ahead toward equality.

Feminism is sometimes criticized (and rightly so) for failing to acknowledge the experiences of people of color, but I learned feminism through a decidedly non-white lens. Studying black feminist history, liberation theology, community organizing, and the devastating human effects of environmental racism, I realized how oppressions are linked and bound up in abuses of power.

In a lot of ways, power is the crux of my understanding of feminism and my theology, too, but I envision power in a radically different way, and I suspect that's a big part of what critics misunderstand.

Our world has a jacked-up relationship with power. If we're Christians, we might admit that our world has a sinful relationship with power, and as a Church, we are chief among sinners.

Racism, rape, poverty, abuse, environmental degradation, sweat shops, hate speech, human trafficking, child labor, and everyday inequalities, indignities, and violence based on skin color, sex, gender, class, disability, sexual orientation, and more--these aren't unfortunate inevitabilities but actual manifestations of oppressive power (that, if I'm honest, I participate in and sometimes benefit from).

I think the reason people bring up the "matriarchy" boogeyman and accuse feminists of wanting to "turn the tables" on men is because it's virtually impossible to envision gender or racial equality when most of our power structures are built on and sustained by gross inequalities.

But for me, feminism isn't about gaining power in a broken system; I want to burn the whole thing down and start anew.

This is where my faith intersects my feminism: worldly political and religious power crucified Christ, and when he rose from the dead, Jesus made a spectacle of their oppressive power, greed, fear, and blood thirst. The equality we seek is found not on the altar of empire but the upside-down Kingdom of Christ.

Jesus subversively upended one of Rome's most potent symbols of oppression and death, raising something whole and holy in its place. Christ's Kingdom grows up among us by another kind of power, and we're charged to bear its fruit: repentance, humility, servant leadership, and radical, resurrecting love.

My feminism grew out of the classroom but was nurtured in a faith that all humans are created in the image of God and that the only power that rights the world's wrongs is found at the foot of the cross and an empty tomb.

That's the kind of feminist I am.

making peace with feminism

tragically hip: privilege and the emerging church

beyonce & policing female sexuality

scorecards, slut-shaming, and shining a light

Unsilencing Eve

{Day 1} Feminism and Me: On Tuesday, February 26, link up at J.R. Goudeau’s blog, loveiswhatyoudo.com, and write about these questions: What is your experience with feminism? What’s a story or a memory or a person that you associate with that word? Why does it have negative or positive connotations for you? How do you define the term, either academically or personally? What writers have you read whose definitions you want to bring out? Or, if you don’t have a definition, what are some big questions you have?

{image source}

the word of life

noreply@blogger.com (suzannah | the smitten word) — Sat, 23 Feb 2013 16:14:00 +0000

The Logos of God is not the scripture
but the Son; the Word-made-flesh who spoke
creation into bloom moved in next door.

I AM and it was; it was good. It can be still, if we will
go and do likewise, embodying the greater Word
of life, of healing and repentance.

Hear, O Israel: The Lord our God is one.
Fix these words, impress them on your children,
weave them into work and life. Whatever you bind

will be bound and what you loose is free indeed.

Let love and faithfulness never leave you;
write them on the tablet of your heart.

These words aren't idle; they are our life and

Christ our namesake. Speak him well.

five years long (and counting)

noreply@blogger.com (suzannah | the smitten word) — Mon, 18 Feb 2013 04:09:00 +0000

On this day in 2008, I published my first post here. I told stories, wrestled, and wrote my heart to keep from losing myself in the diapers and demands of new motherhood.

At first, I wrote essays for me and stories for a handful of family members scattered far from home. Along the way, I stumbled into poetry and feminist critique, and these words forged paths outside this small town, connecting us in ways I never envisioned and for which I'm grateful.

Will you indulge me in a look back? My first blog header was a wordle. Fancy, clearly.

This photo was the best existing one of me for a long time and was my avatar for years.

Jessi of Naptime Diaries made this header, and when I met Erika at Relevant, I discovered that she has the very same tree of life as a tattoo but with wild, winding roots. Kindred, we.

Last summer I re-titled (and shortened) my blog to the smitten word. The old domain obviously remains, and if anyone knows anything about adding/redirecting urls, I'd love to finally move it.

It's been five years, 707 posts, and quite a bit of fun. Thanks for walking this way with me.

let love

noreply@blogger.com (suzannah | the smitten word) — Thu, 14 Feb 2013 16:45:00 +0000

{image by Annie Barnett, available from Be Small Studios. used with permission.}

Because Love that protects, trusts, hopes, and perseveres is more dazzling than diamonds and more enduring than candy hearts:

Let love.
Let it melt the frozen and forgotten places, where the wild dancing has gradually slowed to solid ice while no one was looking.
Let love.
Let it wash over those multitudes, the harsh words, the friendly fire. Unclench those fists.
Let love.
Let it open the front door to the friend all shut up in her own head, let it linger on the couch til words come. Let it set another plate, wash the next load of laundry.
Let love.
Let it break that hard heart into a million little pieces.
Let love.
Let it bind up. And let it build up. Let it stitch together the broken into quilts of comfort and mercy.
Let love.
Let it hang onto threads of hope, choose joy again and again and again.
Let love.

Happy Valentine's Day, lovelies. Please go read the rest of Annie Barnett's blessed benediction here. (Find more of her gorgeous watercolors at Be Small Studios.)

And I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the Lord’s holy people, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of Christ, and to know this love that surpasses knowledge—that you may be filled to the measure of all the fullness of God.

Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen.

beyond the possible

noreply@blogger.com (suzannah | the smitten word) — Thu, 14 Feb 2013 14:57:00 +0000

Cecil Williams and Janice Mirikitani have been at the helm of one of the most extraordinary churches in America for over fifty years. Beyond the Possible: 50 Years of Creating Radical Change in a Community Called Glide tells the story of their lives, their church, and unfathomably transformation wrought in San Francisco's Tenderloin District and beyond through the passion, love, and dedication of Glide Church and community.

It is a remarkable book, beginning in Cecil's childhood in segregated west Texas in the 1930s. He recounts harrowing and heartbreaking stories of racism and oppression in America and his own experience as the first of five black students at Perkins School of Theology at Southern Methodist University. Janice spent her own childhood in Japanese internment camps. Both were well acquainted with injustice and longed to be part of something better, of healing and new life.

Cecil moved to San Francisco in the 1960s to pastor a dying white church in the heart of one of San Francisco's most notorious neighborhoods, a place where homelessness, addiction, violence, poverty, and sex work were rampant. He opened Glide's doors to everyone from street people to streetwalkers, resurrecting that dying church and the community itself by turning Glide into a safe haven, a center for city revitalization, and a catalyst for social activism and spiritual change.

The book fascinates. Glide was inclusive long before that was a cultural buzzword, welcoming people of all races, incomes, sexual orientations and gender expressions, as well as addicts, sex workers, the homeless and mentally ill. The stories are jaw-dropping: the community organized against police brutality, embraced the unwashed and unstable, had unfathomable run-ins with hippies, and helped thousands experience healing after abuse, incarceration, and so much brokenness.

When Cecil came to Glide, it had 35 congregants. Today, it has 10,000 members, (and 25,000 volunteers serve its programs annually). They serve three hot meals a day, seven days a week and operate integrated housing facilities for working families, the mentally ill, and formerly homeless. Glide birthed community centers, after school programs, health clinics, and recovery programs, and they've changed the face of the neighborhood for the better in myriad ways.

The chapters are named after some of the church's core values, including Creativity, Freedom, Nonviolence, Recovery, Diversity, The Beloved Community, and more. Glide's commitment to storytelling, vulnerability, truth-telling, empowerment, and radical acceptance is inspiring, but Beyond The Possible doesn't pull punches, either. They share some of the hard and ugly realities encountered in fighting addiction, racism, and systemic poverty and glimpse the long road of healing after abuse and the ongoing difficulties inherent in a truly diverse community. They also share how publicity and celebrity friends brought a Glide a spotlight and funds as well as personal and other problems.

Cecil Williams ministers from and operates out of an understanding of liberation theology, and as I read, I realized how much the white church and conservatives in general fail to comprehend black theology in particular. Some might not find the book to be entirely orthodox (I'm not sure if Janice would describe herself as a Christian), but nevertheless, it offers an important perspective and a needed counter to some of what passes for orthodoxy in many evangelical churches. Williams and Mirikitani have much to teach the rest of us about love-in-action and the part we can play in bringing salvation tangibly to our sisters and brothers here and now.

There's a lot to like in the book, especially for those interested in sixties counterculture and history, social ministry, community development, church diversity, vulnerability, shared power, church growth, social justice, storytelling, or faith activism. Honestly, if you're looking for a lot of Jesus, this may not be your cup of tea exactly, but I see no reason why even a more conservative church or Christian couldn't still gain a great deal of wisdom from the perspective and example offered within these pages.

For folks burned out by brokenness, closed doors, small questions, and church-as-usual, Beyond the Possible might just been the good news you're longing to hear.

Book provided by TLC. Opinions mine.

burying the alleluia & signs of repentance

noreply@blogger.com (suzannah | the smitten word) — Sun, 10 Feb 2013 19:21:00 +0000

At the Episcopal church where we worship, lent is a penitential season. The liturgy is somber, and on the last Sunday before Ash Wednesday, we bury the alleluia. The children letter and decorate posters, and the alleluia is interred until Easter, absent until it leads us again into the celebration of resurrection.

Alleluia means "praise the Lord," and it is an expression of joy. During lent, we do not fast from praise, certainly, but as Jesus fasted forty days in the wilderness in preparation for ministry, lent is similarly a sobering time, characterized by asceticism to prepare our own hearts for the weight of the cross and significance of Easter.

Had I been able to find the liturgy online, I would have linked, but instead I transcribed it here from Sunday's bulletin.

The Burial of the Alleluia

Celebrant:
I heard a great voice of many people in heaven saying, Alleluia:Salvation and glory and honor and power be to the Lord our God. And again they said, Alleluia! Alleluia! Alleluia!

People:
Alleluia! The Lord does reign! He is clothed with majesty. Alleluia! Alleluia! Alleluia!

Celebrant:
There is a time to laugh and a time to weep. A time to dance and a time to mourn. As we enter the season of Lent, bring forth acts that are suitable signs of repentance. Remember that the sacrifices of God are a humble spirit. It is a humble and contrite heart that God does not despise.

Until the day when Christ's resurrection is celebrated with joy and gladness, we commit our joyful ALLELUIA to God who gave it.

Let us pray (in unison)
O God, look with favor on your people gathered here. We know that we have sinned and deserve your punishment, yet we look to you for mercy. Spare us, as you have spared your people in the past. During Lent, help us to reorder our lives so that others can see your presence. We ask this in Christ's name. Amen.

Happy are the dead who die in the faith of Christ! Henceforth, says the Spirit, they may rest from their labors. So says the church of its ALLELUIA.

Today it dies until with Christ it rises at his glorious resurrection. When he died, he dies to sin, once and for all. Living as he lives, he lives to God. In the same way you must regard yourselves as dead to sin and alive to God, in union with Christ Jesus. Amen.

People:
Amen!

Anyone hitting up a Shrove Tuesday pancake supper? I'm a little sad our church isn't hosting one this year, but 'tis the season for fire hall Friday fish fries, an admittedly huge highlight for me in these grey, late winter weekends.

Jen Luitwieler is kicking off a series of lenten reflections this week, and Margaret Feinburg is reading the WHOLE BIBLE over the next forty days. (Read more and download her Wonderstruck by Scripture here.) Kirsten Oliphant's Consider the Cross: Devotions for Lent is 2.99 for e-readers. Kris Camealy has a free lenten e-book available, Mason ties lent to resisting consumerism, and Kamille mediated on Isaiah 58 last year.

Do you observe Lent in your church, family, or community? We enjoy soup suppers and compline services, and our church is going through Scot McKnight's 40 Days Living the Jesus Creed together. I also am continually challenged and nourished by Bread And Wine: Readings For Lent And Easter, The Divine Hours: Prayers for Springtime, and Common Prayer: A Liturgy for Ordinary Radicals.

Do you have any favorite prayer books, practices, or resources for lent? Some fast from certain habits or indulgences, while others "take on" other devotional, spiritual, or ascetic practices. The season begins Ash Wednesday this week, and I'd love to hear what's stirring your heart.