Author: gracesmuggler

Today’s piece is a repost (which will be obvious since it mentions 2017!) but I thought it’s appropriate to today. Love comes in many forms. Love is loving us to being in many ways. Love is opening us to wonderment in many directions.

When was the last time you allowed yourself to truly receive? Or perhaps, when was the last time you opened your awareness more fully toward the gift of receiving?

Some of us have been socialized to be givers. And no doubt, giving can become an act of receiving too. It feels good to give from who we are and to experience connection with others.

But when the last time you allowed yourself to truly receive?

We might think of the big things — times when people reached out to us, nurtured us, created space for us, made a meal for us, gave us a gift. But we might think of the small things too — the sky is demonstrating its blueness, the chair is holding us up, the bird is singing.

I wonder if shifting our reference toward receiving — noticing it, allowing ourselves to be energized by it, resting in it — might change our day. I wonder how it might help us remember that we belong. I wonder how it might invigorate us. I wonder how it might increase our gratitude. I wonder if it might shift what’s possible.

–Renee Roederer

Sometimes, we let ourselves believe that experiences are valuable and valid only. . . if they’re explainable.

Of course, sometimes, marvelous things happen, and that ignites our curiosity. “How is that possible? How does that work?” This kind of questioning is expansive in its energy, deeply curious about how the world works and how we function within it.

But another kind of questioning can show up in ourselves that’s simply dismissive. “How could that be possible? Surely, that isn’t so. That’s ridiculous.”

Skepticism can be healthy and helpful. Needed, even. I’m certainly not knocking that in total. Instead, I’m talking about those moments when we stop being curious. When we’re so sure we know how the world works that our questioning (or our explanation points) become contracted instead of expansive. We stop marveling. We cease to believe that more is possible beyond what is easily explainable. We also come to this conclusion: Experiences are valuable and valid only. . . if they’re explainable.

We make explanation the benchmark.

But sometimes, marvelous things happen that we can’t explain. Sometimes beauty remains, unexplained. Maybe the beauty is more important than the explanation.

A few months ago, I wrote a post in a large Facebook group of clergy. I said,
“Unpopular Church Opinions. Go!”

330 comments followed. I’ll leave the details confidential, but many of us described beefs we have with church life. Some shared minority theological perspectives, wondering what folks in our congregations would think if they knew we had shifted our thoughts. And then, some (and I didn’t expect this) felt courage to share for the first time that they had experiences that might be thought of as mystical in some way. These were experiences beyond what is typical or explainable. People seemed to be encouraged by seeing this in one another. “Wait, you too?” “I never get to talk about this anywhere!” In our communities of faith — often, very cerebral communities — people would probably disregard such experiences.

Well, last week, I had a beautiful experience that I will leave unexplained.

I was in the midst of doing some work, specifically, reading on my laptop Kindle app while some music was playing on Pandora, and all of the sudden, I stopped because I had this sensation. It was a feeling of calm, followed by a feeling of awareness. In the awareness, I said,

“Someone’s praying for me right now.”

This is not something that happens to me typically.

I sat with it for about three seconds, and then said, “It’s Ellie.”* Somehow, I had a sense that it was Ellie. She’s my friend in the U.K. And I did feel a remarkable sense of calm. I looked at the time because I wanted to remember it. It was 1:37pm.

Later that evening, Ellie and I ended up chatting on Facebook about something else entirely when I said, “How many hours ahead are you from Eastern Standard Time?”

“Five.”

“Okay, this may sound really weird. . . but were you praying for me today? Because I had this sense that you were. And it was at 1:37pm EST.”

“Yes, I was! And that was it, exactly. I was walking outside on my way to a 7pm meeting at a local pub. It was about 6:40pm, and during that walk, I prayed a blessing for you — that you would feel peace.”

“Ellie, I did. It reached me!”

I can’t explain this. I don’t need to. It’s beautiful. I’m going let that beauty remain, unexplained.

Even if untypical, there may be a very natural way to explain such a phenomenon. Perhaps we are more connected than we think we are (I tend to believe this strongly!) I welcome the expansive, curiosity questions.

But my concern, the point of this post, is that we are so internally dismissive of some of our own experiences, that we may miss very real ways of perceiving, very real ways of being connected, very real ways of marveling because we’ve been socialized to discount them. But still, the beauty remains, unexplained.

–Renee Roederer

*Friend’s name changed

One of my best friends has a nightly ritual with both of her daughters. They are three and a half and one and a half,  both completely precious. Every night, after reading to them, my friend says these final words before they go to sleep:

“Who loves you?”

Then both girls go through this litany of naming who loves them (sometimes with help) — parents, grandparents, teachers, and friends. Sometimes the stuffed animals get named too.

I think this is a very dear practice. It’s wonderful that these girls rehearse love right at the end of the day before they fall into sleep.

Perhaps we’ve never taken a moment to go through a list of people in our minds like this, but. . . maybe that would actually be a good idea today. We never outgrow the need for this kind of awareness, a calling to mind of those who love us.

So I’ll ask us all the same question today:

Who loves you?

–Renee Roederer

Yesterday, I spent some time reading Elizabeth Drescher’s Choosing Our Religion: The Spiritual Lives of America’s Nones. It is truly an excellent book.

This book is a result of research project in which Drescher traveled across the country and conducted in-depth interviews with people who are religiously unaffiliated. Often, when asked about their religious affiliation on surveys, a sizeable, growing portion of people in the United States choose the answer ‘None.’

This only represents a demographic bracket, of course. Those who choose this answer are not monolithic in their beliefs or practices. Drescher seeks to enter deeper conversations that hear religiously unaffiliated people on their own terms. This is why I like her work so much. Many of the studies out there define Nones — even through the word None itself! — by what they are not (religiously affiliated) rather than who and what they are. Drescher takes a completely different approach. A much better one, I believe.

Yesterday, while reading her chapter about ethics, I found this to be interesting:

Of the 100 people Drescher interviewed about ethics, 20 people independently brought up the parable of the Good Samaritan in their conversations. They shared that they admired this story and wanted to see people live this way.

It’s kind of stunning that this came up 20 different times. Some of this, undoubtedly, is connected to the fact that many Nones were raised in Christian congregations before they deaffiliated. But the content of the story itself resonates with a desire to see ethics practiced in a particular, relational way. One that is willing to love to the point of risk, even when — and perhaps especially when — presented with difference.

Drescher writes, “The appeal of Jesus to Nones has nothing to do with the institution developed by his followers, but rather with his willingness to walk across religious and other social boundaries, through the lives of ordinary people, attending to their suffering, healing their afflictions, welcoming them into conversation, and sharing stories of hope. For Nones, this stands in contrast to the doctrinal professions of faith of that have characterized the Christian tradition since the Reformation.” 1

Simply put, many Nones responded that they don’t often see these kinds of ethics practiced in Christian congregations:

“Few churches, it seemed to Nones, expressed their identities in prophetic, radically other-oriented registers, even to their own members. For many, Jesus is the cute, swaddled infant of Christmas pageants; the kindly Good Shepherd who leads us beside still waters; the regal risen Christ who triumphs over sin and death. But, he is not often a dude who would leave the comfort of a cozy church coffee hour with folks of his own social milieu to part with cloak and coin for the benefit of the dazed Iraq war vet with two pit bulls at the highway underpass down the road from church.” 2

Not all interviewees were directly critical, but they expressed a desire to see people stretch their ethics of care beyond their own circles:

“Still, even those who did not criticize or condemn churches and their members for failing to live up to the Good Samaritan ethic seemed to feel that institutional religions were not up to the challenge of offering genuinely self-sacrificing service to others. Lily Hampton, an Agnostic, argued,

‘The big church organizations— Habitat [for Humanity] or whatever— will do things like that. Or, maybe after a hurricane. But day to day, week to week, you don’t really see [church members] where you live being involved— out on the streets with homeless people or protesting injustice. I think most of them are just trying to hold on to the members they have, to make them happy and comfortable. They take care of their own, in my experience.'” 3

Even if Christian congregations practiced such ethics in ways that were more visible, Nones would not necessarily affiliate in traditional ways. There are other cultural factors that influence how Nones relate generally to affiliation.

But. . . may I share one more quote? I also ran across this one yesterday from Walter Bruggemann:

“The crisis in the U.S. Church has almost nothing to do with being liberal or conservative; it has everything to do with giving up on the faith and discipline of our Christian baptism and settling for a common, generic U.S. identity that is part patriotism, part consumerism, part violence, and part affluence.” 4

I think many religiously unaffiliated people would love to see Christians live in greater alignment with Christian ethics. We Christians (I am one of them) fall short even when we do seek to practice them, but. . . have we allowed such ethics to be crowded out by other drives and forces?

This parable came up 20 times. Perhaps our ethics need conversation and confession.

–Renee Roederer

1 Drescher, Elizabeth. Choosing Our Religion: The Spiritual Lives of America’s Nones (Kindle Locations 4671-4672). Oxford University Press. Kindle Edition.

2 Ibid. (Kindle Locations 4645-4649). Oxford University Press. Kindle Edition.

3 Ibid., (Kindle Locations 4629-4634). Oxford University Press. Kindle Edition.

4 You can find the Walter Bruggemann quote here.

Hello, Dear Friends,

I am starting this day with a lot of gratitude. As I begin this post, I want to thank you for reading Smuggling Grace. It is such a joy to connect with you here. So often, these posts lead to real-life conversations and connections with you, and I find myself thankful every single time that happens. Thank you for your presence here.

Today, I want to let you know about a personal project that is underway. Some of you know that I’m in the midst of a fundraising campaign for my work as a Community Chaplain.

Community Chaplaincy is a entirely new kind of role in ministry. With gratitude, I entered into partnership with the Presbytery of Detroit to bring it into being, and that partnership has provided official status to my work. The challenge, of course, is that I do not currently have any formal funding for this kind of position.

For this reason, I am in a campaign currently to raise an initial $15,000 to support my work in ministry.

My work as a Community Chaplain allows me to do many things I love:

-For the last two and a half years, I have served as the organizer of a new community in Southeast Michigan called Michigan Nones and Dones. Sometimes, participants describe this as a community for people who are “spiritually curious but institutionally suspicious.” Our community includes people who are religiously unaffiliated and people from a variety of religious traditions who have become a bit uneasy with organized expressions of religious community. We meet in coffee shops, restaurants, and homes to build friendships and talk about faith, spirituality, and meaning.

-I have several meaningful partnerships at the University of Michigan which allow me to build relationships with undergraduate and graduate students and faculty and staff. One of these vital partnerships is Canterbury House, a student ministry on the edge of campus, which provides space for worship, shared meals, community conversations, and music (both concerts and jam sessions!)

-I have the privilege of being connected to a variety of local faith communities, organizations, and activist communities that are doing tremendous social action in Ann Arbor, Ypsilanti, and the broader Southeast Michigan region. I am grateful to be present to them and help connect others to their work.

-I have the great joy of writing on this blog five times a week. Thank you for following this work here. It means a great deal to me.

If you would be interested in supporting this work, there are two primary ways to do that:

1. Northside Presbyterian Church has been a tremendous partner to me in my vision, and they are holding the funding I raise so that it is a) tax deductible and b) provides an accounting structure. If you would like to donate, the best way to do that is to write a check to “Northside Presbyterian Church,” then write “Renee Roederer: Community Chaplaincy” in the To line. You can mail that to

Renee Roederer
2648 Lookout Circle,
Ann Arbor, MI 48104

I will make a note for my records, and then, I will pass it along to Northside Presbyterian Church.

2. You can also give a gift to support my writing. If you’d like to do so, you can give at this link: https://www.paypal.me/ReneeRoederer

Many thanks, friends, for your cheerleading in these efforts. That always means so much! And if you have any questions, you can email me at revannarbor@gmail.com.

Best to you,
Renee

 

A few months ago, I wrote a piece on this blog called, “My Aquakening.” In that piece, I shared that I have become rather Quaker-curious. This all started when I made a handwritten list of my curiosities and hopes for what church could look like if it were more ‘horizontal.’

The list was not based on my own personal preferences alone, but it has been informed by being in relationship with many so-called Nones (folks who are religiously unaffiliated) and Dones (Christians who have left institutional churches), along with many young adults, both religiously affiliated and unaffiliated.

After making that list, I realized, “Oh. . . wow. . . Quakers practice all of these things, don’t they?” That’s how my Aquakening started.

Well, last Sunday, I’m pleased to say that I attended a Quaker meeting for the very first time. And I loved it.

I feel there is a lot to learn from the Religious Society of Friends, including. . .

. . . what horizontal, non-hierarchical church can look like (I think some are doubtful that this can be possible, but a variety of communities use leadership models based on agreed-upon practices and procedures rather than classes of various roles)

. . . how worship can be experienced in participatory ways, with multiple people speaking, sharing, and teaching,

. . . how a community can be deeply committed to 1) contemplation and quiet reflection and 2) social action – so deeply committed, in fact, that there is an expectation that each will inform the other.

. . . how a Christian tradition can stay rooted in its historical and spiritual identity while also authentically making space for people who have a variety of spiritual beliefs and practices, including people who are religiously unaffiliated, with a commitment to receive from all people’s contributions and insights.

I experienced all of these things at my first Quaker meeting. And I’m still very curious to learn more. The Aquakening continues!

I plan to keep attending when I’m available, and I want to meet more people from this community. I’m curious how following this lead might shape my hopes and practices, both in my own life, and as I think about community formation.

Or to keep a mantra going this week,

If we are to love. . . we are to learn.
If we are to learn. . . we are to grow.
If we are to grow. . . we are to change.

So let’s see where this goes.

–Renee Roederer

I love this affirmation of faith from the Uniting Church in Australia. Sometimes, I invite people to speak it aloud collectively in worship:

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

This post is part of a series this week. Feel free to check out the other pieces too:

The Price of Incarceration
The Deeper Questions
Connections Matter
Providing Support to Immigrant Families

These days, there are times when we might experience a visceral feeling I’ll call ‘can’t-ness.’ It’s a sensation of powerlessness — an inability to turn things around. I feel this most acutely right now when deportations are happening in my town, or when I hear about them across the nation. Daily in this country, families are being torn apart.

Of course, my feeling of powerlessness pales in comparison to what families and close friends are feeling. This is trauma on a massive scale and on a deeply personal scale.

Yesterday, I heard about the deportation of a man who has lived in the United States for 13 years. He is married to a U.S. citizen, and his two children, ages 3 and 5, are U.S. citizens. He came to this country from Guatemala under asylum, and he’s been working with ICE to gain permanent residency. He works and pays taxes. He has no criminal record at all. But nevertheless, around Christmas he was told that he had to leave the country in 28 days. Papers and processes from his attorney were filed, but they were not allowed to proceed to their end. Yesterday, he had to get on a plane, and he was separated from his family.

Also yesterday, ICE did raids in restaurants where I live in Ann Arbor. This stirred up so much fear and pain. Now family members are working to raise bail money. Now family members face an uncertain future, and the remaining parents are trying to take care of their children alone with at least half of their income in danger.

These are horrific things. They are traumatic. I am going to boldly say that they are evil. There is a large amount of dehumanization happening, and empathy for immigrants is decreasing.

It can feel overwhelming to sense that it is hard or near impossible to turn deportations around. But that doesn’t mean we can’t be present and add aid in tangible ways. All of this families need money. Gracious. . . how horrific to lose a family member and then lose economic security for children. . . People need money to care for emotional trauma. People need food. People need childcare.

What agencies are working for immigrant rights in your local area? Which families need support? The truth is, there are some things we can do quite tangibly.

–Renee Roederer

This post is a part of a series this week. Feel free to check out the other pieces too:

The Price of Incarceration
The Deeper Questions
Connections Matter
To Be a Part of the Very Prayers We Make