Stop The Violence Please . . .

Note: I went to post this last night, and the Internet failed me.

14-15 April is the anniversary of the sinking of the Titanic. 101 years ago it happened, and oddly enough, on the same says of the week (Sunday into Monday). I originally was planning on writing how this tragedy sparked a major U.S. Senate inquiry almost immediately after the sinking about what could've been done to prevent such an immense loss of life. I wanted to compare it to the issue of gun violence today, and how many months later and still politicians are dragging their feet on how to resolve such an problem; meanwhile, more and more people die every day from gun violence. It didn't take dozens of other sinking ships and thousands more lives lost to have international maritime law changed after Titanic.

But of course, fate had other plans. Another type of tragedy struck Boston today. I had a couple of friends in Boston, one of whom was running the marathon. Thankfully, he finished the marathon and they were out of the area before the explosions happened. I've only caught glimpses of the immediate aftermath, and I'm surprised how graphic some of the photos are (so often such images and video are censored in the U.S.). Since leaving work earlier today, I've had an odd feeling running throughout my mind and body. I can't quite tell what it is, but I believe it's the disbelief that something like this has happened again and the anger at why people just don't understand why violence does not work. The fact security was increased in the metro and the immediate area surrounding the White House was cordoned off here in D.C. also makes me angry, because we are intimidated by fear; yet, what else are we supposed to do when an unknown threat makes an appearance? So many people claim to believe in the Christian God and Jesus, telling us to put our faith in Him; and yet, they decide to trust security and weapons and point fingers when any sort of danger strikes?

I posted this on Facebook as a way to express my thoughts in a nutshell:

"Boston, Baghdad, Aleppo, Derry, Kabul, Jerusalem, Oslo/Utoeya, Jakarta, London, Mumbai, Madrid, Quetta, Kaduna, Bali, NYC, Omagh, Nairobi, Lahore, Belfast, Cairo, Oklahoma City, Buenos Aires, Brighton, Dar es Salaam, Tel Aviv . . . how many more cities have to be bombed, how many more people have to die, how much more property has to be destroyed before we all say ‘Enough!’ and give peace a chance?”

Peace always, everywhere . . .

Fashion Friday: Early Spring Review

Yes, I'm back, with not just one, but four different outfits of mine for you from the past few weeks.

First is this combination:

The vest/waistcoat and trousers aren't new, but the shirt is a new Calvin Klein purchase on super sale at Macy's, while the tie and pocket square are new acquisitions from TheTieBar.com.

Next up is what I wore for Palm Sunday:

The only new piece here is another super sale Calvin Klein button-up, but I got to pair it with some older favorites in my closet.

I also got to spend the morning of Good Friday with one of my favorite people on earth, my friend and coworker Katherine!

Repeat of the new red & black tie, but with this super sale DKNY shirt is dove grey/light steel, also from Macy's.

Finally, here is the one many waited anxiously for: Easter Sunday:

Another new super sale Calvin Klein shirt, new pocket squares and tie clip from TheTieBar.com, new shoes from Giorgio Brutini, and of course, a new fedora, the Bailey Suntino (which arrived only three days before Easter, whew!). The socks I got back in December, while the suit I bought last year (wore in Easter 2012 as well), and the tie is an older gift from my Aunt Donna.

Peace . . .

I Want To Be Mary Magdalene

Today, 31 March, in most of the Christian world it was Easter. For most Christians it is a time to celebrate, remembering the resurrection of Jesus from death. O victory o'er the grave!

But I too often find myself only enjoying Easter during worship on the morning of the holiday. I could care less about Maundy Thursday services, Good Friday processionals, empty Holy Saturdays, and rarely recognized Easter Mondays. Lent, with it's Fat Tuesday gorging and Ash Wednesday rituals, brings about a bleak time of the year, not only in the church calendar, but in much of the northern hemisphere in terms of weather and unpleasant seasonal changes. Most of Lent occurs in March, my least favorite month of the year. Easter Sunday, and really only in the morning, am I in a reverent mood.

I believe the gathering of people together, the often celebrated Easter brunch before worship, and the colorful worship service, full of people in fancier clothing and flowers abundant, with hymns that are joyous and celebratory, are the reasons I enjoy Easter morning.

But otherwise I could care less about this season. The constant reminders of impending doom and death aren't helpful to someone who has dealt with multiple extended time periods of depressive feelings and has had suicidal thoughts in the past. The story of old, of a man believed by many to be God in human form, a man who tried his best to good and show the way to a better world, led to torture and death, abandoned by almost everyone he knew, is extremely familiar, and utterly sad.

I know there is triumph over death in the end. Alleluias can finally be sung again. He arose! King of kings, Lord of lords, forever and ever!

It's all great to sing and all (especially in a church with a history of excellent singing), but I still fail to find much hope in it all. God died. God was crucified, a cruel manner of death. Virtually none of Jesus' followers remained after his arrest in the garden. Over 2,000 years ago, Jesus' death did not make news. The Roman Empire went on with its business as usual. Even in Palestine, almost everyone observed the Sabbath the next day as nothing had happened. It's as if Jesus never even existed.

To be abandoned by practically everyone you knew and loved, who you thought would always be there for you, to face your own mortality, and then to be virtually forgotten, all within a matter of 24 hours, is beyond frightening (there is more colorful language I could use here, but I think you get the idea).

Such a scenario plagues my mind at least once a month.

This is why I just cannot celebrate the Easter season the way most people do. Christmas is a time full of hope, of joy, of giving, of peace, of birth of new life. I much prefer to celebrate then.

Maybe someday I will find a way to celebrate Easter. I am jealous of the faith of the women who came to the tomb, especially Mary Magdalene, only to find the stone rolled away and be told their leader is resurrected. Mary Magdalene is consoled by a man she thought was the gardener; she begged him to show him where Jesus' body, only to be shown it was standing right in front of her. Mary Magdalene is probably my favorite biblical character, and I only wish I could be more like her.What faith, what resilience, what loyalty. This woman puts all the disciples and other faithful followers to shame. Despite everything that happened during that Passover so long ago, she continued to have a mustard seed of faith and hope, and showed up the morning after the Sabbath to be there for her Teacher. Oh what I would give for a quarter of a mustard seed.

Peace . . .

Let's Bring Back: X,Y, & Z

Well, we've reached the end of this series of blog posts concerning Blume's Let's Bring Back book. But never fear! There is a "Lost Language" edition that will soon adorn my bookshelf and will be the sequel to this series. In the meantime, let's reminisce about the good things that begin with "X", "Y", and "Z".

• Yellow-bulbed theater marquees
• Yellow café lights on strings
• Zeppelins
• Ziggurats
• Zinc bars

Unfortunately, I really can't come up with anything else to add, and Blume only had one entry for "X" ("X" marks the spot, like with old treasure maps). Obviously the end of the alphabet is quite difficult to quantify. But I will say "zeppelins" was my favorite entry; so much more luxurious than an airplane, and with plenty of room to spare, they could be like ocean liners in the sky. The Hindenburg disaster unfortunately sealed its fate, with the Concorde suffering the same fate about 70 years later. It's unfortunate one major disaster had to shut down such wonderful advancements in transportation.

Peace . . .

What Is A Weekend?

Oh, a famous phrase attributed to the Dowager Countess of Grantham (if you don't know what I'm talking about, I'm slightly ashamed of you).

While the question was asked in good humor during the second episode of the first season of Downton Abbey, it is a question I often find I ask myself in all seriousness. (Sorry as I go stream-of-consience again here with this post.)

Two weekends ago I had plans to go to NYC (what was supposed to be my first trip there), which ultimately fell through at the last minute. But because of this, I had already taken that Saturday off of work from the hat shop (my job at the church is a bit more flexible with comp time luckily).

Because of this, I decided to treat it as a holiday, just like Gregory Peck and Audrey Hepburn did back in 1953.

After I slept in a little, I got up and got around and made my way down to Eastern Market. I used to only live four blocks from Eastern Market, so I really miss one of my favorite locations in D.C. The weather, while not extremely warm, was sunny and warm enough to make it a great early March/spring Saturday. I made my way around the various produce and trinket booths before checking out the mainsstay stalls inside the Eastern Market building. After buying some fancier cheeses, I headed over to check out the flea market just across the street, where I splurged on a replica Alphonse Mucha print. By this time it was almost 2:00 p.m. and I was of course quite hungry. An Indian food truck sounded quite delicious, and I treated myself to chicken tikka masala and a mango lassi before checking out Capitol Hill Books. After a brief jaunt into that used bookstore, I stopped by Pitango Gelato, one of my favorite things in D.C. After the disappointment of the Logan Circle location no longer having pomegranate sorbet, Eastern Market came through for me (seriously, pomegranate sorbet from Pitango is some of the best stuff on the planet). I then walked over to 8th Street SE, a.k.a. Barracks Row, eating my gelato all the way. After passing by all the people still out enjoying brunch and the Marines standing guard at the Barracks and Commandant's House, I stopped by the Southeast Library, which was having a book sale; I picked up a few things there for really cheap before I made another stop at Martha's Outfitters, a secondhand charity shop/thrift store just north of the U Street Corridor. I got lucky and found a couple of nice button-up shirts while there. Satisfied that I had spent more than enough money, I walked the rest of the way home in the gorgeous sunshine.

Honestly, that probably doesn't sound that exotic of a Saturday, especially here in D.C. But to me, it was absolutely luxurious. I honestly don't get a full day off anymore between my two jobs. Besides going between the two during the "normal" work week, I am at the hat shop practically every Saturday, and with my job at my church, I pretty much have to be there every Sunday to help take care of things. Between the two jobs, I work almost 50 hours a week, not including the average 45 minutes commuting one way to either job.

I'm certainly complaining on some level, but at the same time I'm extremely greatful to have so much work compared to the maybe 20 hours I had this time last year (and at a much lower rate of pay). Even though I am working a lot of hours at what would be considered a good hourly wage in much of the U.S., I am still only making about half of what the rest of my housemates make on the normal 40-hour work week. I still couldn't afford a much higher rent than I'm paying now, and certainly couldn't find a place I could afford on my own in D.C. Where I live now is on the edge of a moderate food desert (granted, not in the desert, but not even two short blocks away).

In the end, I still have to work through a good part of the weekend just to make a decent living here in D.C. I know it could be so much worse, and last July, I thought it was gonna end up a lot worse than I ever wanted it to. On some level I'm not proud to admit it, but I do know what it's like to apply for and be on food stamps because you needed it and certainly qualified for it. I know what it's like to wait in long lines at government welfare offices and look at all the faces around you, wondering if they're judging you and wondering if they think you're judging them. I know what it's like to go to the self-checkouts so it was easier to hide the fact you were using an EBT card to pay for things. I know what it's like wondering if your paychecks are going to take care of everything and being glad when you break even. I know (and still know) what it's like pretending you have more money than you do just so you don't look too poor in front of practically everyone you know because you're afraid of being disowned. I know what it's like to walk instead of taking the bus because you can't even afford that, let alone the more expensive metro. I also know that there are still millions out there who are much worse off than me, and I have to look at so many of them in the face as I walk down the street.

I still work in the service sector, and while I've never had to work in a restaurant, I think being in retail you gain enough sympathy. Just the other night I had to wait in line at a local Chipotle to order my dinner. The guy in front of me was getting impatient (despite the fact this line was shorter than most of the times I've been to this Chipotle), and by the time he got to the register, he wanted free guacamole as compensation for his wait. When the manager refused, rhetorically asking if he should give everyone in line free guacamole since they had to wait, the guy in front of me just walked off and they ended up throwing his two burritos away. I was in such a shock at the display of disrespect I just witnessed that I couldn't even think to save all that wasted food before it was too late or yell at the guy, calling him out for being so rude in front of everyone else just to make him feel a bit of shame for treating people the way he did. He knew this Chipotle was short-staffed that night (the manager said so) and these people certainly aren't making living wages. They've probably been at it for hours with very little break time to get off their feet or relax their hands. Please think about this the next time you are at any type of restaurant or shop.

Some may say and think, "Why is a young, university-educated WASP male getting food stamps?" But why is it that only racial and ethnic (and often undereducated) minorities must be seen as the only ones who are on (and thus stereotypically "abusing") welfare programs? Why isn't it normal for white people to be on food stamps? Isn't that a racist thing? Isn't that a classist thing? But better yet, why is anyone on government welfare?

I'm doing alright now, and while I can complain it's not ideal, I really have no right to complain, even if I still have to seriously ask "What is a weekend?"

Peace . . .

Why I Go To Church

Sometimes a conversation is started, and I find myself wanting to join it, but often do so much later than everyone else and then my voice gets lost in the midst of the next conversation that is already starting. Well, here I go again, even with this realization. C'est la vie.

Earlier this week I read this blog post by Kate Baer on the Mennonite World Review's website. She explains her personal sentiments about why she, like many other millenials (a.k.a. those currently 20-30 years old), no longer go to church on a regular basis, if at all, even if they still believe in God or label themselves as Christians.

Having finally settled into the beginning of a "real" adult life with all of its lovely responsibilities, I can appreciate and resonate with some of her reasons. "Sleeping in" tops the list of these reasons for me. Having weird (and sometimes long) working hours practically seven days a week, getting a chance to catch up on sleep is a rare luxury for me, and Sundays seem as a good of a day as any. Living in D.C., there are a lot of millenials, and Sunday brunch and/or visiting the local farmers' market are very popular activities for Sunday mornings as well. Put extra sleep together with a visit to Eastern Market followed by a brunch of french toast, bacon, and mimosas, and I am pretty much in love. So I can find it very easy to resonate with wanting a day to take it easy and not worry about having to be somewhere yet again.

I also can understand how church can be boring. The same routine, Sunday after Sunday, is quite repetitive, especially in a congregation that doesn't like to switch up their order of service at all. Sermons aren't always exciting and I find myself zoning out many-a-Sunday during the sermon, even though they don't drag on too long in my congregation. Sometimes new hymns/songs are chosen and make you feel awkward because no one seems to know how or what to sing. Often announcement time takes forever, and while sharing of joys and concerns is important, sometimes you wonder why certain people get up and say the things they do during that time. Oh how cynical and judgmental I can be in church.

Which brings me to her next point: cynicism. The last decade or so has shown just how hypocritical and full of abuse the church really is. Messages of hate spew from pulpits all over the place and the truth is covered up to protect leaders in prominent positions. Things are pretty messed up (there are plenty of other verbs I could've chosen, but I'm trying to keep it clean). It's no wonder so many millenials (and others) no longer go to church; they are getting mixed messages almost everywhere they go. Identifying as "Christian" can be a scary thing when the rest of the world sees "Christians" in the media saying "God hates fags", "Hurricane Katrina is the wrath of God", "Islam is an abomination", and other negative messages.

As I said, I can understand, and certainly at times resonate, with Baer's feelings. But then I separate with her actions and sentiments, following a similar path my fellow Blufftonite Hannah Heinzekehr wrote about on her own blog The Femonite.


She writes:
"But I am growing tired of continuing to read post after post about why young adults are leaving the church or why millennials find Sunday morning services worthless. I would much rather read from people about the places and communities they have found that work. About those experiences and moments that do point them towards the Divine. Mostly I just wish that we could stop expecting church to be free from the brokenness that is endemic to the human condition."

I don't say things like this often, but "Amen, sister!"

She continues on to discuss the problem of "Sunday best" and how it seems we need to be perfect or white-washed to go to church rather than be openly broken with our "shit showing".

Oh Hannah, you just had to bring up the term "Sunday best", didn't you? This is where I find myself at odds with so many people today. I don't disagree that we are a broken, imperfect people, and church should be the first place where we can bring all of our burdens to share. I wish there was so much more of this happening, where church is a place where people can be truly "real" about who they are, where they are, and what they are. I wish I could be more open than I am in church. I really wish I could believe more in the power of communal/intercessory prayer and present my troubles before the congregation openly without judgment. I wish others would/could do the same. I wish I didn't trivialize certain peoples worries and prayer requests. I wish I wasn't so afraid. I wish I could cuss openly in church. I wish there was much more discussion, and a little less preaching at.

But, at the same time, we are in church to worship God, praise Him/Her/Them for all that has been created and given to us. We should be in awe at all that remains inexplicable about our world and universe, knowing a Sovereign Creator/Creatrix is behind it all. Recognizing the power of I AM is a humbling experience that I have over and over again, and not just on Sundays, but it is on Sunday when I come to specifically recognize this. I believe in the idea of Sunday best; I come to church to present myself as a small piece of all creation, and I am presenting myself before the One who created it all. Why shouldn't I be all dressed up for church? For me, putting on some of my finest is a sign of respect for I AM, recognizing Thy power and glory and knowing there is nothing I could ever do to match it. At the same time, Gott ist die Liebe, and while it can be quite scary to recognize how insignificant our lives can be in the grand scheme of things, we should also recognize that love should conquer all, and we shouldn't be afraid to lay ourselves bare (again, I'm hypocrite for saying this, but maybe someday I'll do better).

Also, I agree with Heinzekehr: if we're frustrated with what's happening in church, maybe we should try harder to change it, rather than simply give up on it. Sometimes this is a lot easier said than done, and sometimes change will never happen (in nature everything eventually dies, and some congregations ultimately need to face the same fate for something new to be born). But simply giving in means defeat, and we shouldn't let a hateful message win over our belief in God's peace and love. It's time we create better communities of love, support, peace, and justice within our churches rather than fall for the same routines again and again. I'm not necessarily advocating for the abolition of traditional worship (I'm a strong defender of traditional hymn singing and reading the Bible aloud), but I think are better ways to sometimes do church rather than always be a passive parishioner in the pew.

At this point in my life, I attend a congregation I have a strong love for, even though their is a hate side to this relationship (also, I work for my church, so that colors some of my opinions) (you can also read some earlier reflections on why I go to church here, here, and here). My congregation, Hyattsville Mennonite Church (HMC), in Hyattsville, MD (a D.C. suburb), is a smaller (130 average attendance), urban Mennonite church that has been around for over 60 years. But almost since its inception, HMC has caused problems and headaches for those in church leadership. Longer ago, there were two main Mennonite denominations in North America. HMC was born out of one, but being the only congregation in D.C. during the 1950s and 60s, it was the only place where people of both denominations could worship in a comfortable, familiar setting. This angered some in the regional conference leadership, wanting to keep denominational separation. But HMC refused to follow this advice, and so there was in the beginning a sense of hospitality to all who wanted to worship there.

Nowadays, HMC is known for its long-held stance on welcoming LGBTQ, etc. people. This inclusion, which started back in the 1980s, led to discipline from the regional conference over seven years ago, which means HMC has no voting rights in the regional conference or the national denomination. While we are still part of the denomination, we have no official say on important matters. This has not stopped us from participating as much as we can; we still attend national convention, delegates continue to show up at ever regional conference meeting, money is constantly sent to various denominational agencies. Thankfully, a process of reconciliation is starting with the regional conference, although no one knows what this means yet.

I once overheard an older child say HMC is the best church to attend if you're an atheist. I don't think this is quite true, but it is encouraging to know children in our congregation recognize it's okay to question one's faith and openly wrestle with issues of theology, etc. They (the children) seem to understand God is love and such love is accepting of all, whether they are a man, woman, or otherwise; upper, middle, lower class, or otherwise; single, married, divorced, have kids, or otherwise; hetero, homo, bi, trans, queer, pan, inter, asexual, or otherwise; mentally, physically, emotionally, spiritually handicapped or otherwise.

There are a great many people who aren't afraid to talk to you, invite you to their homes, share their resources and wealth (or lack thereof) with you, no matter if they work for the government, a school, in retail, IT, stay at home, or otherwise. They are willing to chip in at the last minute to help those in need in the surrounding communities. I show up in some pretty fancy clothes, while many others wear T-shirts and jeans, and yet we are all (mostly) fine with that. Jokes about alcohol and skirting around swear words happen more often than you would think during worship services. No one is refused communion.

On 10 February, I tweeted this: "An Indonesian in a bluegrass band that plays at the legal wedding of two women during the worship service. I love my church . . ."

Yet, despite all of this diversity and openness, there seems to be a strong dislike of changing Sunday worship. Heaven forbid a projector screen be put up. I can't recall the last time we sang two hymns in a row; of course we never sing any contemporary songs, unless they are already printed somewhere with sheet music. When was the last time we just stood up to shake hands and greet those around us, in 2011? And what is up with needing to stick to the liturgical calendar for scripture readings each Sunday and following the traditional church seasons? Why must it all be about Advent and traditional Christmas is a bad thing? Can someone explain to me why "Alleluia" is such a horrible thing to say/sing during Lent? While I certainly like what I like with church, I sometimes think HMC could relax a bit more and say "it's alright to go with the flow" and "we can deal" with changes in the order of service from week to week (this probably is a product of growing up in a Mennonite congregation where we never followed the liturgical calendar and worship styles changed from week to week).

Obviously I can ramble on and on. While there are certainly some Sundays when I just want to not leave my bed until 11:00 a.m., most of the time, I honestly do enjoy going to church. It gives me another community to connect with and belong to. Most of the time there is great music and the congregation, while smaller, has a mighty singing voice. The pastor isn't afraid to be real (and sometimes swear) with you. Potlucks are plentiful. Judgment from others remains low (or at least unspoken). Most importantly, people are encouraged to come as they are, broken, imperfect parts of creation that are still called to love one another, bring peace to one another, and act justly towards one another.

Finally, I go to church because I want to change the world (thanks Gerald!).

Peace always . . .

Fashion Friday: Random Outfits

 

So here are two recent outfits of mine. The first one (on the left) is what I wore the Sunday that Michelle & Becky were legally married at church. They had a commitment ceremony 11 years ago, but thanks to marriage equality in Maryland, they were able to be make it legal under civil law. I always try to look nice for church and look even nicer for weddings, so the two came together as this. Shirt is a second-hand find Abercrombie & Fitch button up; tie & pocket square by Bergamo New York; vest by H&M; trousers by H&M; glasses by Ray-Ban.

The second is what I consider part of my "professor style" haha. I can't put on that sportcoat without thinking I'm off to teach a bunch of 20-year-olds about the world. Shirt is a thrift store find by Banana Republic; vest by H&M; sportcoat by Gap Outlet; navy chinos by Gap Outlet; belt by Geoffrey Beane; glasses by Ray-Ban.

Peace . . .