Smuggling Grace

Do you know this word – Kakistocracy?

According to a quick Google search, it means a state or country run by the worst, least qualified, or most unscrupulous citizens. It is a reality where the worst actors have a huge amount of power.

This week, I’ve been thinking about Kakistocracy – certainly in the government and news cycle, but also in my brain space. Over the last four years, there have been occasional hours and days at a time when it seems like my brain continually gravitates to thinking about this and only this. There are times when I’ve slept through the night, but meanwhile, my brain has been processing this and only this.

It’s not always like that, but that happens.

I know I am not alone in this experience. Given what’s happening, this is natural. And while it’s certainly challenging, I think we all should feel our way through what’s happening because that’s a crucial part of solidarity. Some of us have the privilege checking out while others have been feeling this way much longer. Some can’t afford to check out because it could be costly to let their guard down. We need to feel these moments  alongside others.

That needs to be said and upheld as a commitment. But I also know that thinking about this constantly can be harmful, not only because it is challenging and gives it greater ultimacy, but because it zaps our energy for acting.

It’s hard to resist Kakistocracy when Kakistocracy is internalized. It’s hard to continue pushing forward in our important, creative work when our thinking patterns additionally feel invaded and oppressed. It’s hard to include others in solidarity if we find ourselves feeling pain in solitude.

So if you’re feeling this way – grace, grace, grace. 

And if you’re trying to shift these thinking patterns – grace, grace, grace. 

It’s not easy, and don’t beat yourself up if it doesn’t shift quickly.

As I’ve heard from others, this is clear as well:

The actions and inactions of our government, along with the news cycle surrounding them, have also brought up resonances with some of the worst actors from other periods of our lives. Our ruminating thoughts might additionally be our bodies processing these other actors and chapters as well.

So grace, grace, grace.

What’s helpful for you?

Perhaps talk with a therapist or spiritual director. Make art. Take walks. Pray. Set good intentions. Keep connecting with loved ones. Sing joyfully in the shower. Love the work we are empowered to do. Continue to have dreams for our communities and for our own lives. Talk to a friend about the brain space. Know that you’re loved.

And practice mindfulness. When we get in these ruminating patterns, it can be helpful to say, “Okay, for x amount of time, I am only going to think about what is presently in front of me.” Then practice presence. And when we find ourselves moving away again, we just gently bring ourselves back.

again, again, again.

grace, grace, grace.

– Renee Roederer

— How does it feel to choose between health protections and completing a degree?

— What does it feel like to be in your early 20s, having a conversation with friends about whether you should write a will?

— Do you go the required, in-person class or risk the health of a medically vulnerable roommate?

— Do you take greater protections to guard your physical health, or do you let your guard down some to protect your mental health against isolation?

This story below speaks to these risks and considerations that students (and faculty and staff) are having to make as the University of Michigan administration has moved forward with a partially in-person semester — one that public health experts at the university sounded alarms about. This is why graduate students, residential staff, and dining staff are all on strike.

Michigan Daily: Medically vulnerable students voice concerns as classes resume this fall

Text Reads:

You are loved as you are.

You’re
worth it.
fabulous.

Not when you,
Not if you.

You, right now,
Loved presently,
Loved thoroughly,
Loved wholeheartedly.

Worth it.

Fabulous.

–Renee Roederer

Earlier this week, I was on a call when someone read aloud Mary Oliver’s poem, Wild Geese. I thought I would share that here if you could use any part of this message today.

Wild Geese by Mary Oliver

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
For a hundred miles through the desert, repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees, 
the mountain and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting—
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things. 

Today, I share a repost from April 2018 — you know, back in the days of yore when we used to be able to go to meetings. I was thinking about this moment earlier this week, and I thought it would be enjoyable for some reason to make fun of myself again.

Have you ever left a City Council meeting, walked toward an elevator, read a sign that said “Staff Only,” pushed the button anyway, walked inside, watched the doors close, traveled down, then realized you’re completely stuck, then Tweeted your way out of it?

I have.

Move over, POTUS. I too can use Twitter for purposes for which it was never designed.

Yes, this really happened to me! Yes, it was embarrassing. And it has turned into a good story. (If you know me, surprise. I like that part).

Last month in Ann Arbor, I attended a very important City Council meeting. Despite some frustrating moments and comments, overall, the meeting moved in the direction we desired. This was certainly good news.

When that portion was over, I decided to leave. The meeting was still in session, and the City Council members had moved onto other business. So I decided to take the elevator down and walk back to my car. Now. . . which way did I come into the chambers. . .?

Here is a unique factoid about me: It’s mostly endearing, but on rare occasions, it can get in my way. That is, if I have things on my mind — especially if I’m anxious, but also, simply, if I’m pondering possibilities, as I was when I entered this City Council meeting — I don’t adequately pay attention to my surroundings.

In other words, when it was time to leave, I didn’t remember how I had come into the chambers. But never fear, here is an elevator! I remember coming up on an elevator!

It says, “Staff Only Elevator.”

“Surely, that means only during work hours,” I fatefully assume. “I mean, I came up on an elevator.”

I push the button, step inside, and choose the first floor.

I go down, and the doors swing open just as they should, and I step out. But. . . I immediately recognize this isn’t where I’m supposed to be. Hmm. . . I suppose this was the wrong elevator after all. . . So I push the button, requesting that the doors open so I can head back upstairs and try a different way.

The doors indeed open.

I step inside.

The doors close.

And NOTHING.

That is, NOTHING HAPPENS. Because the doors are now irrevocably shut on the first floor, and no buttons are working. “Oh my goodness,” I realize, “This requires a badge.”

This just in: I have no badge.

I am the fool who stepped into a “Staff Only Elevator.”

I keep trying to push floor buttons to no avail. I see the red, EMERGENCY ONLY button, and with utter embarrassment, I begin to ponder what will happen if I push that. Will there be an alarm? Will I disrupt the City Council meeting that is still underway? Will emergency vehicles come? Will tomorrow’s MLive article talk about this very important vote, then mention that the rest of the business was cut short when a firetruck arrived to save a person who took the wrong elevator?

I imagine people saying to me compassionately, “Oh, you must not have seen the sign that said ‘Staff only.’” And I ponder the truth, wondering if I would ever dare to say it aloud:

“Well, actually, I did see it, but due to my very poor spacial reasoning skills, I didn’t adequately remember the direction from which I entered the chamber. I only remembered coming up on an elevator, and here was an elevator, so. . .”

All of this felt mortifying to me.

But!

That’s when I remembered Twitter.

You see, friends, this very foolish error aside, I have a strong skill. I am an outside-the-box thinker! I remember, there is an entire community of people that uses a Twitter hashtag to hash out City Council meetings. #A2CityCouncil will be my saving day!

So I dare to craft an embarrassing, necessary tweet. I say,

“Okay, so this is hella embarrassing because I took an elevator that was for employees only, and now I’m on the first floor with an elevator door that won’t open. Can someone go push the elevator button on floor two so it sends me back up? #A2council”

And yes, to my further embarrassment, but even more to the necessity, people start retweeting this foolishness. And it works. The community makes a plan to collectively save me from my error (and just a little less dramatically than an emergency button) . In fact, a particular human was chosen by the community-at-large to push that button and send me back to the land of the living.

He was on his way when. . . oh, my goodness, I hear someone! An employee (you know, actual staff) was cleaning and talking on her phone. I started pounding on the elevator doors in an attempt to be just loud enough without scaring her. And that worked too.

She pushes the button to open the door, and as soon as I tell her what happened, she laughs and laughs.

I tweet again that I am free.

I walk out of that place, quite aware that I will never take a “Staff Only Elevator” again. And I tell you this tale, so that you will never follow in my not-able-to-go-anywhere footsteps.

We have a City Council meeting tonight. And God bless it it all, I’m  going to pay attention to my entry point.

–Renee Roederer

Please enjoy this extremely delightful video from Rabbi Josh Whinston and Temple Beth Emeth in Ann Arbor. It’s almost time to say…

Shana Tova!
May this year be sweeter than the last!

If you are from the Ann Arbor area, you’ll especially enjoy seeing the local haunts.

Cool shofar.

–Renee Roederer

Listen up, precious people. You are wondrous. You are marvelous. You are forever fabulous.

May you always feel as confident as this little donkey.

–Renee Roederer

In these days we’re living, do you feel overwhelmed by the news cycle?

Yes, me too. Of course. Who doesn’t?

Behind the news cycle, there are real, raw, human stories of suffering. And so often, we feel helpless to prevent that suffering and powerless to change it.

It’s incredibly understandable to fall into those feelings. In such times, we need the solidarity of one another – that is,

. . . the sense that we are in each other’s view, that we encounter each other’s pain with empathy,

. . . the sense that we have each other’s commitment, that we are in each other’s corner for the long haul,

. . . the sense that we have each other’s action, that we covenant to act on behalf of one another, especially and most readily for the vulnerable.

In my Christian tradition, scripture speaks to a calling of bearing each other’s burdens. Lately, within that calling, I find myself encouraging people to shift each other’s burdens. 

We can easily become incapacitated once we realize we cannot instantly fix the systems that are causing burdens. But our empathy, and most importantly, our committed action can change these systems and these burdens. Do not underestimate what these can do.

When we see pain for what it is, we add our validation, and it shifts burdens.

When we add our resources of money, time, or skills, it shifts burdens.

When we use our voices to name wrongs for what they are, it shifts burdens.

When we use our minds to create solutions, it shifts burdens.

When we put our bodies in places that disrupt harm, it shifts burdens.

When we honor the humanity of people who are being dehumanized, it shifts burdens.

When we take direct action and demand justice for the oppressed and vulnerable, it shifts burdens.

If we want to change the large-scale systems that cause harm, we have to disrupt and dismantle them. But alongside that commitment, we have to live and model our lives with a different rhythm – with different commitments and ways of relating to one another.

We practice solidarity.

And within that way of living, we share and lighten the loads that people are carrying. We assign energy and responsibility to where they really belong.

We shift each other’s burdens.

–Renee Roederer

It’s that simple.
It’s that profound.

It is Truer than True.
You have worth that cannot be diminished.

No matter
any of the words that have stung in the past,

No matter
any of the dismissals people have thrown your way,

No matter
any of the failings that keep you up at night,

No matter
any of the items left unchecked on your to-do list,

No matter
any of the unkind comments said to your own reflection,

No matter
any of the the stigma people associate with the diagnosis,

No matter
any of the “gaps” on your resume,

No matter
any of the things pundits have said about you,

No matter
any of the fears you carry inside your living cells.

No matter
anything
anything
anything.

You are valuable.
Full stop.

With a love that can’t be lost.
With a life that can be lived.

– Renee Roederer