Author: gracesmuggler

This Palm Sunday poem was commissioned by Northminster Presbyterian Church in Endwell, New York.

It was a tremendous procession.
Shouts of praise erupted from every direction and
Muti-colored layers of clothing splattered the ground —
Can you imagine?
Two miles of stretched out garments.
Palm branches waved through the air and
Children ran alongside the gathered crowd—
Can you imagine?
He is coming.

He enters the scene,
his arrival greeted by the arrival of a community,
all in a frenzy, fully energized, and fully alive.

It was a political procession.
Shouts of “Hosanna!” erupted from every direction and 
Multi-layered hopes greeted every step upon the ground —
Can you imagine?
“Save us!” they cried.
A colt descends from the Mount of Olives and
The crowd sets its sites on Jerusalem —
Can you imagine?
“Blessed is the one who comes
in the name of the Lord!”

He enters the scene,
his arrival initiating an alternative Kingdom,
all in a frenzy, fully energized, and fully alive.

It was an ironic procession.
Shouts of declaration erupted from every direction and
Multi-faceted claims of authority rose from the ground of their being —
Can you imagine?
Here is our King.
His gaze takes in the city as his destination and
Those in power wait to capture and crucify —
Can you imagine?
This King will die.

He will enter another scene,
his arrival greeted by a cross after abuse, torture, shame, and loss,
after this frenzy, fully energized, and fully alive.

And where are we?
Do we dare join this procession?
Knowing that it leads to heartache?
Knowing that it leads to death

And where is he?
Does he invite into this procession still?
Knowing that it leads us to the heart of God?
Knowing that death does not have the last word?

We follow him once more,
knowing that the things worth dying for
are the very things worth living for
Love
Peace
Justice
Wholeness

the things worth dying for
are the very things worth living for

Love
Peace
Justice
Wholeness

Living, yes,
Living, yes!
Living
in a frenzy, fully energized, and fully alive.

–Renee Roederer

I know a pastor who often says a particular phrase when he prays in worship:

“Help us to be a part of the very prayers we make.”

It’s a phrase I have taken on as well when I lead prayers. Prayer can mean many different things and take on many different forms. I suspect if we pray, most of us pray in many different formats, and we likely infuse that process with many forms of meaning.

But certainly, praying should call us to action.

We need to be a part of the very prayers we make.

So if you pray, what do you pray for these days? Or if you would use a different word than prayer, what do you hope for? Or long for? What need is grabbing your attention in this world, your community, your family?

Whatever it is, how might we take an action to be present to that very need? Or to address that very need?

How might this be important especially for neighbors who are so often out of view?
– Those in prison,
– Those going hungry,
– Those experiencing homelessness,
– Those in the throes of addiction,
– Those who are immigrants,
– Those who live in fear in the shadows,
– Those who are sick without healthcare,
– Those who are stigmatized because of mental illness,
– Those who have lost jobs,
– Those who are foreclosing on their houses,
– Those who have received a challenging diagnosis,
– Those who are harassed or bullied. . .

Whatever and whomever comes to mind. . .

May we be a part of the very prayers we make.

–Renee Roederer

Here are two questions. I’d love to hear from you.

We’re not there yet, but as we begin to imagine a post-pandemic life,

… to what do you want to return?

— and —

… what do you want to leave behind for good? (That is, leave behind once and for all and leave behind for the sake of the common good?)

–Renee Roederer

There is more water than we can see.

When we think of water, we think of what comes through pipes and taps. And we think about the bodies of water we’ve seen — streams, creeks, ponds, lakes, rivers, and oceans. But a whole lot of water exists underground and outside of our view. There’s a whole lot of water traveling through intricate root systems, allowing trees to share resources of nutrients together.

There are also more resources than we can see.

In a time like this, we can expand our recognition that we all have particular needs, and we all have unique skills and resources we can provide. As we continue to move through this pandemic and as we ponder a life beyond it, we can turn both of these toward one another.

Over the last year, I saw people give money to complete strangers online. I saw people call the governor in my state fervently to demand that water shutoffs end in Detroit and other areas of the state. (If you are quarantined without water, how do you sustain yourself? How do you wash your hands and faces?) I saw mutual aid networks pop up all over the country to support service workers whose places of employment were sometimes closed. I saw houses of worship delivering groceries and medications to their neighbors.

We all have particular needs.
We all have unique skills and resources we can provide.

We can put these more in view. We can turn both toward one another.

Let them be seen and shared.

–Renee Roederer

Yesterday, I was defeated by a to-do list.
It still remains, technically unwritten;
but piece by piece,
and point by point,
it chiseled itself into my brain.

Do this, then –
Do that, then –
Achieve this, then –
Accomplish that.

It hammers.
It sculpts.
It hardens and solidifies.
Pristine and chiseled,
it presents itself complete and paramount.

And it does all of this. . .
For The Goal.
(Or at least, that’s what I’m led to believe).

Instead, this to-do list,
this master carpenter,
becomes a goal in and of itself.

If I’m not careful,
my thriving will diminish,
my playing will diminish,
my living will diminish,
while
my toiling,
my striving, and
my working,
grow,
extend,
increase,
accumulate.

Forget the real goals!
The living,
The playing,
The thriving!
Suddenly, these are less than a host of check marks,
Suddenly, these have less value than solid lines marked through words.

Suddenly,
DO and DONE
become more
than LIVE and LIVED.

Well, today, I turn a corner.
I will not cross LIFE off some oppressive list.
Peace and pleasure will permeate my work,
and no lines will run through
BREATHE
LOVE
ENJOY and
SAVOR.

Yesterday, I was defeated by a to-do list.
Today, the goal shifts.

–Renee Roederer

Happy Spring! Here are some photos I’ve captured on my recent nature walks. I look forward to watching everything blossom and grow, bit by bit. Here are days of blue skies, trees, plants…

Sometimes, we have a zero-sum mindset about rest, care, and personal growth.

We feel anxious or guilty about prioritizing rest, care, and personal growth because somewhere deep down inside us, we believe… if we choose to prioritize these for ourselves… deliberately receiving from others, setting up daily rhythms of personal care practices, or engaging extended periods of intentional, internal work… we believe… we are somehow taking from others.

Some of us have also been socialized to view care in these ways.

I’m not talking about falling off the grid entirely (though by all means, it’s helpful to do this temporarily here and there). I just want to make a claim that rest, care, and personal growth are not necessarily selfish, which is something we can easily fear or feel guilty about. This zero-sum mindset easily creeps in amidst parenting, pastoring, organizing, and caregiving.

We, ourselves, are intrinsically worth rest, care, and personal growth. We matter.

But also, when we keep our connections with others in mind, this is not a zero-sum situation — our rest, care, and personal growth is always embedded in relationships. It is always for the benefit of the community. We are refreshed and energized. We bring our fuller selves to our relationships, roles, and work. And when our rest, care, and personal growth stay in contact and connection with others, we pay attention to the systemic forces which make it much more challenging for some to experience those extended times of rest, care, and personal growth. Our care becomes more intentional here, and respecting people’s agency, we practice care outwardly, prioritizing others also. We take care of each other. We cultivate care spaces in mutuality together.

I wonder why we think these are divided from one another — personal healing and receiving versus community care work. As if we can only do one or the other.

After all, who’s to say they aren’t absolutely connected?

Who’s to say that healing doesn’t heal?

—Renee Roederer

“We teach who we are.”

This is something that a mentor’s mentor used to say. She may have meant a variety of things by that statement, but she certainly meant that we end up teaching, extending, and tending to others in ways that reflect the most deeply held lessons from our own experiences, the kinds that rest (at times, after a struggle) at the core of our being.

“We teach who we are.”

It reminds me again that the word ‘heal’ is both active and passive at the same time. We heal in receptive ways. Healing is something that we receive, even as we work to create the conditions that make it possible.

And when we receive and integrate healing into our own lives (and this is always a process rather than an arrival) we also begin to heal — that is, participate actively in healing of others.

“We teach who we are.”

We’ve all received; when people welcome us through their own agency, we can extend our healing and learning toward others.

–Renee Roederer

I was playing around with Instagram stories (that’s where you can post photos, memes, etc. and they’ll last 24 hours) and I decided to use the Instagram sticker that invites friends to ask questions. My prompt said,

“Please ask me a question, silly or sincere.”

People then asked their questions, and I had the occasion to share those questions along with my answers. These included time-tested inquiries of wisdom, like,

“How many Lowe’s would a Rob Lowe rob if a Rob Lowe could Rob Lowe’s?”

and, “Who is the mean girl of fruits?”

But then hours after I posted this, someone asked me,

“What do you want?”

What a good question, I thought. On one hand, we might spend a lot of time working toward personal gratification in a variety of ways, but what do we want? Like really want? Deep down?

I’m grateful I had the occasion to ponder that. I made a list and shared it. These are some things I want:

-A Big, Chosen family

-Laughter

-Storysharing

-Love/Access/Affirmation/Belonging/Self Determination for All Bodies

-Horizontal Churches (working to flatten church hierarchies)

-Providing Resources for Each Other

-Belonging-Structures and Economic Systems built upon the intrinsic worth of people rather than their capacity for productivity

That’s all the space I had to create a list. There are more things I want, but those are some of them.

What do you want? Like really want? Deep down?

Oh, and the answer is, Rob Lowe can’t rob any Lowe’s, because every time he tries, he gets distracted by the health store he passes on the way.

–Renée Roederer

Image Description: Three gray-brown rocks are stacked upon each other, each smaller than the one beneath it. The rocks are on top of sand, and the sand has tracings with concentric circles as if there is a ripple effect from the rocks.

To the Person That Harms,
To the Family That Wounds,
To the Shame That Devours,
To the Violence That Festers,

To the Grief That Upends,
To the Diagnosis that Stuns,
To the Substance That Hooks,
To the System That Discriminates,

You,

Yes,
You,

Any of You, or
All of You, or
More Than You
(That Which Stays Silent or
That Which Exists Beyond Lists)

You.

You
have never been a gift in disguise —
not tied with a bow
or packaged with grand, silver linings.

But here’s one thing you’ve yet to figure out:

The more you knock us off balance —
The more you pummel,
The more you trounce,
The more you disrupt and delight in the off-kilter,

The more we come to know what our balance is.

And that balance,
when we know it,
when we can name it,
when we can internalize it,
is Strength Beyond Strength.

That Balance is Our Sacred Invitation.
That Balance is Our Secret Intervention.

–Renee Roederer