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This spring, a friend and I got matching tattoos that we’d been discussing since (I think?) before she was pregnant with her now 18 month old daughter. We landed on the words and yet from a Kate Baer1 poem as a reminder of our own strength and communal hope.
On Palm Sunday, I mentioned this idea of and yet to my congregation. I told them how the people during Jesus’ time were expecting a powerful ruler and the king they were given arrived to town on a donkey. Not only that, he befriended women, ate dinner with those shoved to the margins of society, and said upside down things like “the first shall be last” and “blessed are the poor in spirit.”
We know what happens in Jesus’ life in the following days. This scene is only the beginning — Jesus’ authority will be questioned, followed by a plot to kill him. In Luke, we read that the “chief priests and the scribes were looking for a way to put Jesus to death, for they were afraid of the people.” Even Judas was looking for an opportunity “when no crowd was present2.”
You see, power only works if you are able to control those without. The powerful begin to fear the powerless, when they come together. When they lay down their cloaks and shout hosanna! When they choose the humble man on a donkey over the king who rules with fear, violence and control. Those with power began to fear what might happen if Jesus’ message of love gained more traction and he is eventually betrayed, arrested, mocked, beaten — and executed for his vision of a different way of living.
At the end of her poem, Baer writes: take comfort in your bold heart, where hope and fear are mingling. Right now we have so much to fear. Those words from the poem are true — at least for me, my hope and fear are mingling.
I’m fearful of public libraries and public education losing funding and I’m fearful for friends who are afraid to visit family in another country because they may not be able to return. I’m fearful of the ever growing number of school shootings and for my queer and trans colleagues at the seminary who live with worry over the loss of rights and dignity.
And yet! History tells us that when we come together, we can make change — we can bring this vision of the Kingdom of God that Jesus was executed for closer to a reality.
We have seen women come together first to gain the right to vote, and then later the right to a bank account and equal pay for equal work. They were called witches and burned at the stake, hysterical and locked into institutions, and now they are called emotional and not taken seriously.
We have seen abolitionists and then civil rights activists and now racial justice organizers work towards equality no matter the color of someone's skin. They have been and continue to be oppressed and murdered, imprisoned and mocked.
My queer siblings have fought for the right to marry, for protection from discrimination, for adequate healthcare, for equality. They have been and continue to be stigmatized, abused, and ignored.
And yet — in spite of all of this — each of these continue to show us love and beauty and the diverse ways that the image of God manifests itself in creation.
There is much to fear, yes, but my fear is mingled with hope!
I am hopeful when thousands of people march in cities all across the United States demanding change in our government and for their voices to be heard. I am hopeful when I witness the curiosity and kindness of 4th graders and when parents write notes of gratitude to teachers. I am hopeful for the many voices speaking out against injustices all around them. I am hopeful as I sit here and write this to you — of the good work you are doing — the relationships you’re building with neighbors and co-workers, the calls you’re making to senators, the sports teams you're coaching, the love you’re spreading, the communities you are creating.
And yet! And yet! And yet!
I truly believe that we are participants in the ongoing work of creation. We are invited to live out the vision that Jesus had as he rode into town on a donkey that day, the same one he was crucified for just a few days later. And it’s in our participation that we become part of the and yet of new life. The and yet of a community that believes in equality, and mutuality, and love — the and yet of the vision of a better world that Jesus gave us all those years ago.
alongside you in the and yet,
holly
News, Updates, & Links
In case you missed it, last week I sent out some book recommendations from the last several months — you can find it here.
I’m hosting a virtual mini-retreat in June! In Preparing for the Ordinary, a lunchtime mini-retreat for Ordinary Time, I’ll guide you through an exploration of the ways in which our ordinary lives are fertile ground for transformation. For more information or to register, follow this link.
This summer I’m hosting a spiritual direction group for clergy & ministry leaders. I still have a few more spots open and I’d love for you to join us! For more information or to register, follow this link.
Luke 22