Author: gracesmuggler

CW: Mass Shootings

It has been a very challenging few days in Ann Arbor. On Sunday, students and community members gathered in the University of Michigan Diag to surround and support the local Muslim community. Together, people were holding a vigil to honor the victims of the two mass shootings at mosques in Christchurch, New Zealand and to speak against Islamophobia.

During the vigil, while someone was reading a poem, people saw and heard a police officer shouting, “Move, move, move! Go, go, go!” and everyone ran in a panic to try to hide. Some went straight into Mason Hall, then shortly after going inside, received an active shooter alert that there could be shooter in Mason Hall. The scene was very chaotic and confusing. Most of all, it was terrifying. Students and community members hid for hours.

A few hours later, everyone learned there was no shooter. There have been some reports of people popping balloons…? But much is unclear. All the folks I’ve talked to, including those who have written publicly about their experience, never heard popping sounds. They just heard and saw the police officers, then fled. There are still lots of questions about how it all happened.

Thankfully, there was no shooter.

At the same time, though the most serious threat was not really present, the experience was very real. People feared for their lives and their loved ones. Our Muslim neighbors gathered to grieve and express their pain and fear, only to have their fears realized.

Please think of our community this week. This is what I wrote on Facebook yesterday:

Thinking about all the lost sleep in Ann Arbor this week and how difficult it is to rest and feel grounded after a traumatic event.

Care and solidarity most especially to the Muslim community, at the center of this pain. ❤️

Care for all bodies that feel jumpy, afraid, unrested, and ungrounded.

[Photo Credit: NEXT Church Website, National Gathering Page. Image description: Colorful threads stretch out at a diagonal, and they are half-woven together. In white text, there are the words: “Woven Together — Stories of Dissonance, Sacrifice & Liberation”]

Hello, friends. I’m back from the NEXT Church National Gathering in Seattle. What a wonderful, full, thought-provoking, emotion-provoking, idea-provoking time!

This week, I said that I would share some thoughts about our time together, but rather than do some summarizing, I’d like to resource you toward primary sources.

One such source is a phenomenal, necessary talk from Dr. Jennifer Harvey. Drawing from the story of Ruth, she asks over and over again, “Who are your people?” and calls us toward acts of advocacy, solidarity, support, and restitution for communities harmed by centuries of racism and oppression.

Set some time aside and watch the whole thing. I think it will move you, as it did us.

Dr. Jennifer Harvey: Who Are Your People?

This includes a talk and a time of Q&A.

–Renee Roederer

[Photo Credit: NEXT Church Website, National Gathering Page. Image description: Colorful threads stretch out at a diagonal, and they are half-woven together. In white text, there are the words: “Woven Together — Stories of Dissonance, Sacrifice & Liberation”]

This week, I’m in Seattle for the national gathering of Next Church. Next Church is a conference and a movement within the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.) that seeks to ponder and act upon new visions for Church and collective life. As a part of this movement, we ponder innovation, community-building, and concerns of justice in our church, neighborhoods, and world. Who are we, and who are we called to become?

Over the next few days, I’ll share some of what I’m learning here. But for now, if you’d like to learn more about all of this, come visit this page.

And wherever you are, and whatever you’re pondering today, I hope that you are stretched and encouraged, just as we are!

–Renee Roederer

[Photo Credit: Youtube. Image Description: Freddie Mercury is standing in the middle of a stage, wearing a white tank top and light colored jeans. He’s holding a microphone and facing an enormous crowd of people. This photo is taken from behind him.]

If you’ve also seen the movie, you might recognize my title above as the next logical step after viewing Bohemian Rhapsody, the recent film about the band Queen and the life of Freddie Mercury. The film begins and ends with the 1985 Live Aid performance, and Rami Malek, who played Freddie Mercury, just won an Academy Award for Best Actor — in part, because he nailed every single movement and mannerism of Freddie Mercury during that particular concert.

After watching the movie, I watched the Youtube of the 1985 performance, and now, I just keep watching it here and there. I had seen portions of it before, but this was the first time I’ve watched it in its entirety.

The performance is so very embodied. Freddie Mercury is just so physical up there as he feels the music and directs it. One of my favorite movements happens a couple of times when he cuts off the music of the band with a huge flourish, ending with his arm in the air.

But also, the dancing is so great.

I think what I love is that he’s just… so fully alive up there. So completely in his element, seeming to enjoy the music he created years ago so thoroughly while crafting a moment in the present that is now probably one of the best live performances in common memory.

There are many ways to be fully alive and in our element. Our way, in fact, might be very different. But I can’t help but think about this. When I watch this phenomenal performance, I desire this aliveness for myself and others.

—Renee Roederer

 

For Lent, I’m giving up uncompensated labor. ❤️

I don’t say this with snark, but rather, with intention. I think this is one of the most important decisions I’ve made for myself in a while.

I’m funded at about 1/3 time this year (the most funding I’ve had in this work so far! Really grateful for it too). So I’m going to start working 1/3 time with my 1/3 time Community Chaplaincy position. Plus, I’ll add a bit of time for other gigs and community projects.

I suppose I’ve had an intriguing relationship with Ash Wednesday over the years. At times, the day has intersected with some challenging moments and chapters in our lives.

I’ve participated in Ash Wednesday. . .
. . . on the very day an opportunity fell through, and we learned we wouldn’t be making a move we really wanted,
. . . on a day when I was acutely aware I was about to lose a job,

and most challenging,
. . . on the exact date that one of the most beloved people of my life received a terminal cancer diagnosis.

In the Lenten tradition, Ash Wednesday serves as a recognition of impermanence and our own mortality. In various chapters of my life, the date has intersected with real occasions for grief.

And Ash Wednesday can be a powerful tradition:

On one hand, the day can provide an opportunity to feel something cathartic. In our broader culture, we often push away public expressions of grief. There aren’t enough occasions to honor our pain and the pain of others in visible ways. But on Ash Wednesday, people actually wear that pain and acknowledge it in each other’s presence.

And there there is a real expression of hope within this tradition too. Pain, grief, and mortality — real as they are — are not always the final word. In times of great anxiety, we can lean upon one another in speaking this hope:

No matter what we fear,
No matter what we lose,
No matter what we hear,
No matter what we’ve done,
No matter how we’ve failed,
No matter how we’ve been failed,
No matter what has been done to us,

We are loved with a LOVE we cannot lose.

I really do believe that.

And in a time of fear, grief, and anxiety, we can believe and display that every human being is absolutely Beloved — that each and all are worth the Love that forms their being.

Even in the face of death itself, it’s a truth that can be lived.

—Renee Roederer

After sleeping about an hour, I woke up at midnight from a dream about communion zucchini bread. It was called… wait for it…

The Zuccharist.

Surely, this must be prophesy. Surely, this must be a beckoning call for us to practice the Zuccharist this very week by buying or making some zucchini bread.

Will you enter this prophecy with me?

Bonus Points if you send me a picture of zucchini bread you are about to enjoy.

Bonus Bonus Points if you write the liturgy for eating zucchini bread at home among family and friends.

—Renee Roederer

Dr. Cindy Rigby was one of my theology professors at Austin Presbyterian Theological Seminary and one of my most significant influences during my years there as a student. On a number of occasions, I remember her saying something really wise about play, rest, and renewal, and I still think about it from time to time. I’m going to paraphrase her here so this isn’t an exact quote, but it’s close to her point. She said,

“So often we think about play, rest, renewal, and Sabbath as recreation, time away from the rat race… an extended period of time when we leave that rat race behind so we can rest up and then re-enter it again a bit more rejuvenated. But… what if play, rest, renewal, and Sabbath can be re-creation? So that they create us in new ways and actually change us? So that we don’t re-enter the same way? What if they change the rat race itself?”

That’s really wise. I want this re-creation. I imagine we all do.

And gratefully, I just had a full week of it. I stepped away from my typical rhythms and spent a week with loved ones in San Antonio. (Including lots of time holding a new, precious baby! How lucky am I?) And I’ve come home a bit different. Re-created in a way… with new hopes, new commitments toward better rhythms, and new priorities (actually this is a return toward…) the priorities that have been there all along but not tended to as well as they could be.

The trip re-created me a bit. Glad for it. I’m ready to re-enter my best priorities.

—Renee Roederer

[Image description: There is an orange-brown background, and toward the right side of the image, there is a circle of symbols of people made from paper. They are holding hands in the circle, and a light is shining in the middle of the circle.]

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

[This image is by France Corbel and can be found in a number of places. Image description: There is a light pink background, and in the center, there is a coffee carafe filled about 2/3 with coffee. The words, “Your worth is not measured by your productivity,” are written both above and within the carafe of coffee.]

We can become so task-oriented that we neglect being relationship-oriented.

We can become so busy with work that we neglect time for care, tending, and growing.

We can become so convinced our worth is wrapped up in productivity that we (temporarily) forget our worth is intrinsic to who we are and unmeasurable.

Our worth is not measured by our productivity.

That has simply never been the case. But we’ve internalized this somewhere.

Somewheres…?

capitalism,
the Protestant work ethic,
ableism,
scarcity-thinking,
urgency-thinking,
greed,
school culture,
family culture,
workplace culture,
any kind of competition culture.

But I’m convinced of this: When we seek — however imperfectly — to ground ourselves in the truth of our own intrinsic worth, and when we seek to view our neighbors in the same ways, we make space for people to do the same. After all, aren’t so many of us longing to hear this? That our lives were never meant solely for productivity or measured by productivity? That there is much more to who we are? And that who we are matters in and of itself?

—Renee Roederer