Embedded Belonging

James Talarico standing outside of the chapel at Austin Presbyterian Theological Seminary.

My little seminary is having its 15 minutes of fame. Austin Presbyterian Theological Seminary is a small place, but it has a big influence. I’ve found myself reflecting on that this week.

Last Tuesday, James Talarico was elected to be the next U.S. Senator from Texas. At age 37, he’ll be the youngest sitting senator when he takes office, and he’s already made a significant impact on state politics. His speeches have inspired many people, and I’ve especially noticed folks sharing his victory speech, in which he called for a different style of politics.

James Talarico has been a student at the same seminary where I received my degree. It was fun to see people sharing the congratulatory post that the seminary published after his win. But as I’ve watched him speak, I’ve especially enjoyed recognizing the wisdom of professors I’ve learned from, too.

When he talks about his faith, and when he casts a vision for change without explicitly using faith language, I hear echoes of people I know very well. Their wisdom shows up in my life, too. I’ve recognized familiar ways of framing belonging, community, and inclusion. These ideas are certainly expressed in ways that are uniquely his own, but I can also hear the voices of people who taught us both. Their influence has traveled into many different lives and different settings, taking on new expressions along the way.

And I suspect this happens in our lives more often than we realize. This particular example just happens to be unfolding on a national stage.

Have you ever met someone and recognized that you’ve been loved or influenced by some of the same people? Or have you ever connected two people from entirely different parts of your life, only to discover that they share language, values, or ways of understanding the world?

There’s something remarkable about recognizing the influence of people we know and love in someone we’ve never met. The reach of our relationships extends far beyond what we can see.

—Renee Roederer

A Local Wikipedia for 30 Minute Walk

Elderly man walking with a stick and one hand on his back on the banks of the Grand Canal, Harold’s Cross. Wikimedia Commons. William Murphy.

I really enjoy a weekly email written by Melissa Kirsch of The New York Times. It’s called “The Good List.” Each Wednesday, she curates a list of 5–6 really good, interesting, creative, neato things.

This week, she introduced her readers to Local Wikipedia, which describes itself as “Wikipedia but only for things a half-hour walk from you.” If you enter your ZIP code, you can learn about landmarks, architecture, and historical establishments within 1.5 miles of that location.

If you want to explore your own neighborhood, or perhaps another, I encourage you to give it a try. Let me know if you find something fun!

—Renee Roederer

My Joy is Heavy

We could say that it’s important to make space for surprise and delight. But in all honesty, sometimes positive surprises find us first and make space within us, totally unexpectedly. Sometimes delight shows up unbidden and invites us into something more.

When was the last time you felt that way?

Whatever comes to mind, here’s a great song for it:



I Voted

An “I Voted” Sticker. Wikimedia Commons.

Lorenzo Salgado Araujo. Renee Good. Alex Pritti.

In the last year, they all lost their lives when ICE agents fired guns and killed them. These losses are devastating beyond words. They had so many unique, beautiful ways of being in the world — nicknames, loves, hobbies, skills, favorites, dreams, commitments — but most of us know their names because of their deaths. Those losses matter. But their lives matter all the more.

Over the last few weeks, during early voting and on Election Day, hundreds of people in Houston and Minneapolis placed their “I Voted” stickers on their memorials.

We can’t bring them back, and I wish we could.

But this touches me.

—Renee Roederer

The Egosystem

Looking up at the canopy of giant redwood trees. Wikimedia Commons.
Rudydale

Recently, a treasured mentor of mine made a wise play on words. He said, “We can spend our lives seeking to build an ecosystem of relationships, or we can forfeit that vision by creating an egosystem.” That’s clever. And true.

We’re all capable of putting our energies into an egosystem. It’s not always because we’re feeling especially prideful or grandiose, though it might be. But it seems especially true when we’re acting out of insecurity — when we let jealousy overtake us, when we are petty, or when we are so fearful that someone will supplant or diminish us that we decide to spend a great deal of time trying to make others small.

First and foremost, this is a tragedy for anyone who is harmed by those actions. But it’s also a tragedy for us. We’re missing out on a better ecosystem of care, trust, belonging, and communal knowledge.

We don’t have to look far to find people exercising power through the model of an egosystem. But we are also capable of making our own lives smaller by living in similar ways.

I hope this is a challenge and an encouragement. There’s always a better invitation.

—Renee Roederer

The People We Carry

Fred Rogers and the Neighborhood Trolley. Wikimedia Commons.

Fred Rogers used to say,

“From the time you were very little, you’ve had people who have smiled you into smiling, people who have talked you into talking, sung you into singing, loved you into loving.”

Sometimes these acts of formation have come from people we expect. And throughout rour lives, these gifts also come from people who surprise us.. We continue to carry these influences.

Who still makes us smile, whether they’re with us physically or not?

Whose speech patterns, stories, and forms of expression have stayed with us?

Whose love still finds us, believes in us, encourages us, and holds us accountable?

Sometimes these influences are so internalized that we don’t even think about them. But when we do, they are worth all our gratitude.

—Renee Roederer