Athena: HRC

Dear Augustine,

I know that many of the posts this month have been political. That was probably inevitable. But one thing that I wanted to write about was Clinton herself, because in the past few years I've felt a particular affinity for her, which is tied into some of my own journey.

I grew up in a very Republican household, and I don't really remember hearing much about Hillary, even during Bill's presidency. Not until the Monica Lewinsky scandal, and then afterwards...there was judgment towards Hillary--specifically for not leaving Bill. My mom (who doesn't consume media as critically as I'd hope) expressed several times that the only reason for her not to do so was her own ambition...it was interpreted as self-serving and a political calculation. Which then somehow seemed confirmed when she ran for office herself and became a NY Senator. I was pretty young at this point (still elementary school and then through middle school), and so I absorbed it uncritically. In high school, conservative politics became some sort of prerequisite for being a Christian, and it took my years at Gordon to unwend the two.

I started to become more liberal. I'm from NH, so there's still a strong independent streak in my blood...(I try to listen carefully, and there are some Republican politicians whom I admire. But honestly, it's their social policies that I just can't handle anymore on any level). I made peace with that around my last few years at Gordon, and by the time 2008 rolled around, I was on the Democrats train.

Here's the thing--I was on Obama's train from the beginning. I'd examined by personal political stances, but I never really went back and re-examined my thoughts about somebody like Hillary. I thought she was way too ambitious and corrupt, and everything that Obama was saying was exactly what I thought we needed. I thought bipartisanship was important and could help us get some real shit done. I believed in closing Guantanamo, and felt that he had a very hopeful and positive vision of the future. I liked that he was experienced, and I had no real clue of the real effects of the Clinton presidency, because while I had re-evaluated my current political positions, as I mentioned, I didn't go back and check past perceptions. The Lewinsky issue was all I could really have told you about either Clinton, really. (And to be honest, I actually liked McCain a decent amount back then, he was too hawkish, but then he went and unleashed Palin on us, and I will literally never forgive him [and whoever advised him to make that choice] for that as long as I live.)

But I remember, not as clearly as I want to, one of debates or comments that Clinton made around that time...and I wish I remember the specifics, but it was more of a general thing. Obama was talking about bipartisanship and the need to reach across the aisle, and at one point, Clinton sort of dismissed that as naïve. And I thought to myself at the time, "See that is everything that is wrong with you and why we need a candidate that is willing to work with others and get stuff done. You're an insider."

Obama became president, and I am still thankful for that. I honestly don't really regret voting for him in the primary, and I love that she ended up as his Secretary of State, and that they worked together for some solid years. But I remember, shortly after Obama became president that when he tried to invite Republicans to work with him (especially then Sen. Judd Gregg in NH, whom I respected and was excited)...and it just all fell to pieces. And I don't know all of the real reasoning behind that, but I saw Republicans dig their heels in and just move to counter Obama at every turn. (I'm not going to lie, I hated at the time, and I hope that I would've been frustrated with it if somebody like Romney had become president, but with Tr*mperdink I seriously hope that he is blocked from seriously damaging policies and bigoted things while in office. And I will deal with that hypocrisy.)

But I remember watching that unfold and somehow, a thought crept in--you know, I judged Clinton for that, but she was right. She was pragmatic--she wasn't saying the popular thing, the thing that inspired and moved people. She was saying the wise thing based on her experience. And if I remember, she got flack for it. In my mind, I gave her flack for it.

Fast forward to this time around, and that was a large part of why I was in Clinton's camp from the beginning. No disrespect to Bernie supporters--a large majority of my friends supported him, and frankly, I love him and Warren in the Senate. I think that's the better place for them, honestly. (Though I had wanted a Clinton-Warren ticket for at least 4 years now. That would've probably hurt even more than anything. I digress.) I saw the populism of Bernie, and I looked at his promises, and Clinton's more tempered discussion. And I remembered her with Obama as well, and I thought that she seemed the same pragmatic person.

I had also, in the last few years, watched some of the attacks that had happened on her character. I tried to be attentive to the Benghazi scandals, and just couldn't understand exactly why they were attacking her non-stop. I'm not saying that there weren't issues with decisions there, but people acted suddenly like she had somehow wanted people to die. I think there were moments of speaking too soon about the causes and perhaps some other decisions could have been made that would've been better in hindsight. But hindsight is 20/20...we don't hear about all the times decisions have worked, we hear about the times that they failed. Then the emails, and again, there was some concerns there, but I watched it be blown out of proportion to the evidence. And I started to realize how much more harshly she got judged on every single little thing. I do buy that some of that is related to her gender, I've seen that play out in how women in power (in business or politics) are judged. I think some of it is related to her personality, and some of it due to the expectation that everybody had to have had that she would be the 2016 nominee. I mean, there was some question of it earlier this year, but the GOP had the benefit of having way more time to sow seeds of doubt and smears on Hillary in some ways...Dems couldn't have dreamed in 2012 or 2014 that Tr*mperdink would be the nominee. I don't think so anyways.

(God this is so long, I'm sorry).

There wasn't a ton of enthusiasm in many corners for Hillary. I had a few close friends who were enthusiastic, but even among my fellow Democrats, there wasn't a ton of enthusiasm. Part of me gets that, but this time I was actually enthused. Most of it was for the reasons I discussed above--her pragmatism. The way that though she certainly used persuasion just like all politicians do, I think she was wise in the way she did it. When she ran negative ads against Tr*mperdink...they focused on his own words and temperament, things he couldn't deny (and yet he tried to anyways.) She had pragmatic policies, though I wish she had expounded them a little more during the debates, and even though at times she changes positions...I can respect that. She seems to do so after thoughtful consideration. In some ways, I don't think being a political opportunist is the worst quality to have in a candidate, which sounds bad, perhaps, but it means that they're willing to listen to people or at least appear to, because they know they rely on votes. And even some of the things that she said about public vs private positions (controversial) actually made perfect sense to me. I get that, after watching this whole debacle...we don't know how to have nuanced public conversations, so maybe it helps to be a little more Slytherin at times. No candidate is perfect, and I try to think of things that I dislike and disagree on as well as agree on, try to check myself for bias, but for me, this really was no contest.

I loved the DNC speech, and teared up a few times. I was proud of her debate performance--all the times she just reacted so calmly and smoothly...I can't imagine the fortitude it took to keep one's cool. And it wasn't just a political loss I felt or absolute terror for our country's future in the last hours of Nov 8th. It was absolute heartbreak. How did messages of "Love trumps hate" and "Better together" get beat out by sentiments of building a wall, and xenophobic comments? I try to understand things, and on some level, I do, because politics and the media and the economy and everything. But on another level, it destroys me. And it destroys me to think of the utter painshe must feel as a person...as the meme keeps saying: probably the most qualified woman in the country loses to the brash, obnoxious man. That is a real thing that I've seen so many times, that I've experienced a few times personally, but that I've seen happen far more often to so many wonderful women that I know. And it hurts. And is exhausting.

I love now though that she's out walking in the woods. That she's spared some of the utter shitstorm she would've been facing that she's won (though I still hate that she lost more than anything ever.) I loved her recent public speeches, and the way she encouraged people to keep fighting. And I believe in that. So. deeply.

So what I did, the day after the election, was...I went and bought her Funko!Pop that I originally didn't intend to buy [because I normally focus on sets from shows I really really love.] And I keep her on my shelf next to the John Oliver!Pop, and I bought it specifically after watching her concession speech. Because now, more than ever, I can't give up. So I see her Pop and it's a reminder to keep fighting harder than ever.

(Yup, cluttery bc I'm re-organizing. Why yes I do have a kickass statue of Alan Rickman as Severus Snape)

And, one of my favorite memes from the last few weeks, based on one of the sweetest memes from The Simpsons:

Source: https://i.redd.it/dyrs6yxep0fx.png

I'm making plans to be more involved, to attempt to have real conversations. I'm reading reading reading, articles and books...not just about politics, but about the social sciences (I'll learn to be pragmatic and shrewd too).

I'm finding organizations that are doing the work that we so desperately need, and making a list, so that I can donate to them on a rotating basis over the next few years. I'm trying to reach out to people. And every time I see that Pop on my shelf, it's silly, but I'm thinking of that. It's functioning as a sort of plastic icon (I've got to blog about those later) for me, a reminder to not quit.

I'm doing it for the good of my country, for my beloved friends--especially those in vulnerable positions right now. But you know what, I'm doing it for her too. Because I feel as though in some ways, we didn't realize what we had (in Obama or in her). We have this expectation sometimes for politicians to be perfect, super-humans...and I don't think that's realistic. It's some way that I'm still with her and the values that she espoused in her DNC speech and in her slogans. The values that I do believe are a part of our country, even if none of us express or believe in or act on them perfectly. We aim towards them anyways.

+Athena

PS--God, I'm sorry this was so long, but I think I needed to get it out. I also have plans to write her a letter if I can find where I should address it.

PPS--Cary Elwes, aka Westley from Princess Bride used "Tr*mperdink" in a tweet, and I'm still laughing about it. I know that it's immature on some level, but I do think he's so far outside of the realm of a 'normal' candidate that it feels right to acknowledge that somehow. I'm going to have a hard time over the next few years.

Athena: Nudge

Augustine,

I just started a book tonight called Nudge (in the field of neuroeconomics, which is pretty cool sometimes). It's synthesizing a lot of the information and studies in books I've read in recent years in the social sciences that discuss the ways in which humans are not really as rational as we think we are, and don't really make the best choices. This book goes further in discussing "nudges" that can influence people--with discussion of practical applications in how those nudges could be used for good. It is a little bit like manipulation on some level, which feels uncomfortable, but in the end...I do feel like like the reality is that advertisers, corporations, and certain brands of politicians/analysts have figured this stuff out...so it's not really as though you could prevent these techniques from existing. At best, you could try and teach people to be cognizant of them and try to fight them with rational thinking...which is still a good thing to do...but again, people are not as rational as we'd like to think. So learning some of the "choice architecture" principles that this book talks about seems helpful.

I think would I love about this whole field is the way that it is incredibly interdisciplinary--it meshes together my more analytical and humanistic sides--and I feel like there's room to work that in even further. This particular book is more on the science-y side, but I'm also excited to continue thinking through the implications of it and read more and more.

I want to be humble still, as I do think that human beings are far more complex than we can ever truly and deeply understand...but it's still interesting to think about how these things apply...and maybe, maybe how they could work to incentivize positive behaviors.

I haven't finished the book yet, so I may not agree with all of the conclusions, and I still have to think things through more, but it's been an exciting read thus far.

+Athena

Athena: Words

Augustine,

I had been thinking about writing this idea yesterday, and then I just ran across a quote that feels like it goes along with it...

“There exists, for everyone, a sentence - a series of words - that has the power to destroy you. Another sentence exists, another series of words, that could heal you. If you're lucky you will get the second, but you can be certain of getting the first.” ~Philip K. Dick

I don't know about just one sentence, but I realized a couple years ago that there is one main thing that completely crushes my spirit in a way that nothing else does. I can get into arguments and disagreements with people about a number of different things, I can find certain work situations frustrating, but none of those things wound me.

For me, it happens when my passion and excitement about something I'm learning completely is dismissed and shut down as boring or stupid. I love my sister, but she's probably the person who does this the most--we're very opposite in personality and she genuinely just doesn't care one bit about learning...and she's very blunt and will honestly just tell me to my face, "I stopped paying attention five minutes ago." I could deal with it with a sibling, because it's how she is and that's never going to change...I push back sometimes, but there's just no real use. But it's something that I couldn't bear in a friendship or relationship.

And truthfully, I don't need to. My closest friends in the world are genuinely geeks about so many things. Even if they may not be interested in all of the same topics, they love to have deep conversations. But somehow, most people in my family--whom I love--are more like my sister than like me (with the exception of my Dad and a couple aunts/uncles whom I don't see as regularly as the rest.)

I know it sounds like a small thing, and it's not necessarily every moment--there are always reasonable times when people just don't want to hear about a particular thing, and that's fine. It's the moments when you're sharing about something that really matters to you, that you're excited about, and having that just shoved aside that I mean. Which I do feel is a bit related to that "raw" feeling I wrote about yesterday. Perhaps because being a "learner" is such an important part of my being, that it feels not just like a rejection of conversation, but a rejection of me on some fundamental level. Even if that's not the intent, it sort of makes me want to suck myself back in a bit, and limits the type of emotional relationship I can have with that person.

And why my deepest friendships (and I include you in this) are always with people who are energized by learning and talking about things that really matter to them. The moments when I feel happiest and the most fulfilled are not when I'm doing some activity like bowling or kayaking or seeing some extravagant thing (even though I do appreciate nature and fun times)...they're in the conversations that happen along the way. I sometimes find far more meaning and joy in the conversations on a car ride than in the actual experience at a movie or a concert, etc.

It makes me wonder too what these things would be for other people--and how often I might step on those things unintentionally.

+Athena

Athena: On Dialogue and Self-Preservation

Augustine,

As mentioned in my previous post, I was a bit heartbroken when discussing the Eucharist vs. sermons as the central focus of a liturgy/service...it wasn't just a difficult thing to process intellectually. It was emotionally painful as well--because this wasn't a mere intellectual discussion for me, it was tied to very real things that I was trying to work out regarding my own faith, something that was such a key part of my identity. And that I always tried to approach both rationally and emotionally.

As I continued to learn about Orthodoxy, I started to tear down what I had called my "stumbling blocks" to the Orthodox faith. Things that I wasn't just ignorant or unaware of--like the focus of liturgy or the importance of the Resurrection...things that just weren't adequately addressed in the Protestantism I encountered growing up (though I know that's not true of every Prot. church)--but things that I had actively been taught were essentially heresy: the importance of the saints and especially Mary (the Theotokos) to name two.

I come from a very Protestant family, but it's not just that...my family members aren't just Evangelical Protestants [of varying stripes]...they are ex-Catholic Protestants, who all converted around the same time. And in some ways, there's nothing like the criticism you have for a tradition that you left, that you deliberately chose to leave.

I was terrified when my "stumbling blocks" seemed to crumble, and I started to realize that I was already becoming Orthodox in my mind, if not quite yet in practice. It wasn't just a shaking of things that I'd believed my whole life--it was the prospect of having to tell my theology professors and mentors at Gordon, my school (I thought there was a decent chance that I could lose my job...thankfully, I didn't), and my family, especially several of my uncles whom I had had long theological discussions with.

At some point, it wasn't enough to just be Orthodox in my mind, I started attending liturgy, and by the time I had reached that point, I had already been 'sold' on Orthodoxy (I approach things through my mind first). Then I had to tell everyone...I worried that some subsets people would think I wasn't a real Christian anymore, or just completely disdain aspects of my faith and try to convince me out of it.

Thankfully, those conversations on the whole went a lot more smoothly than I might have hoped--often because people knew at least that I didn't do anything half-heartedly. It was something I had been researching for a long time and had "defenses" ready for. But few of the conversations even got to that point--sometimes, one or another person would bring up something, but typically it just became this sort of resigned, "Okay, I guess, you seem to have at least thought this through, even though I really disagree with you. Let's just talk about what we do have in common," sort of thing.

What was really curious though--and still is when it rears its head from time-to-time--is that I realized that there are some things that feel so vulnerable, that I don't want to defend them. Orthodox teaching about Mary (the Theotokos) is one of those things.

I don't feel the same connection to the Theotokos that many Orthodox, especially women and mothers do, because there's still that Protestant piece of me that just...feels unnatural about it sometimes. (There's another story here too about how some of that has changed). But while there are some moments that feel unnatural, I still do like many of the Orthodox beliefs about the Theotokos, and there is some sort of special kinship and protectiveness there. It's because it somehow feels so pure, so beautiful, so right, that I can't bear the thought of exposing it. I can't bear the thought of it being laughed at, shrugged aside indifferently, or worse...attacked.

It does tend to come up in discussion in certain circles, and I find this almost physical reluctance to talk about it. It's not something I want to have to defend with words, because it feels so deeply a part of me and so absolutely vulnerable, that I don't want to expose it in that way. I don't want to have to defend and explain my thinking on it with people I know differ, instead I just want to tuck it away and deflect things, swiftly turning the conversation to something that feels a little less precious. A little less costly--even with my closest relatives. There's something about it that feels...raw at times. Like an exposed nerve which can't take even the slightest of pressure...not because it's weak, but because it's so deeply rooted and connected somehow that it's beyond words or arguing. It just needs to preserved and protected.

I think of so many of my friends who experience this same rawness about different aspects of their own identity. It makes me want to protect them too. I don't want to debate theology that's raw and vulnerable with other people, not when I know the deepness of that for real people whom I know and love. Instead I want to go into a protective mode and just divert things away so that the rawness is protected from harm, so that things have a chance to blossom and develop in their own time.

I live in a world where it's fairly easy to protect myself--theological discussions about Mary happen in certain circles, but not many. I look at my friend who converted to Islam, and think about how every single conversation with her whole family (immediate and extended) has that level of rawness. That's part of where I love my friendship with her--even though we have such different beliefs, we allow each other to share the beauty of what we see, and we try and see that beauty in the other person's beliefs. Even though we don't believe the same way--we recognize the rawness that we're dealing with and we protect each other with that as much as possible.

Does everybody have something that they feel this way about? I'm not sure. Perhaps I'm just not aware of things. I feel like everybody that I know has some type of "raw" experience in their past...but it's different when it's not just an experience that shaped you, but some core piece of your identity. And even more painful when those differences are tied to oppression and prejudice--when the danger is not just one of vulnerability but of actual safety.

I don't know, but I've been thinking a lot about it recently in regards to the difficulty of dialogue. There are moments when I think it is worth pushing myself a little and having those scary conversations that feel vulnerable, but there are many other moments where I feel it's better to shield raw places. And when it comes to others--I always want to shield and protect them...and I know I can't. I can't even promise that I will always say or interpret things properly so that I don't wound them in raw places (though I would never want to and try to be sensitive to it...I know I've failed, awfully sometimes).

I don't have any answers, just more and more questions and reflections.

+Athena

Athena: On Dialogue and Presumptions

Augustine,

I found a kindred spirit my first year of teaching with the English teacher in our small school. I was just out of college, and exploring Orthodoxy theologically, yet not attending services at that point. (Someday I'll tell you that whole story too. Someday we'll tell each other all the stories.) I hadn't yet figured out what I was, but I knew what I wasn't--Evangelical. And yet, I ended up with a job at a mostly-Evangelical school, and our Professional Development seminars that first year were...The Truth Project. My friend, KE, and I bonded the first session when we broke out into discussion groups because we just couldn't believe how ridiculous, biased, and illogical so much of it was. Yup, kindred spirit.

I got to know her better and better, and I immensely respected the way she approached her faith--through her intellect, like me. She studied classics, languages, and literature, and loved studying theology as well. I was a little nervous when I found out she was Reformed [because I had just 'escaped' that theology, the theology of my youth, and yes, at the time it felt like an escape]...but I respected her nonetheless.

As mentioned, I was studying Orthodoxy and reading Orthodox bloggers and authors, and one of the things that somehow just blew my mind was really simple to anybody who grew up with any sense of liturgy. In liturgical churches, the focus is usually on the Eucharist--that is the "climax" of the service, and it feels very much like the climax of the plot pyramid we learned way back in middle school. When I read about that, I immediately thought that it was so obvious--of course, a church service should be centered around the Eucharist, around Christ himself and his 'atoning' work (I'll blog more about that someday too. How had that been kept from me all of my life? How did that never occur to me?

Every church I'd ever really attended up to that point had been focused on the sermon--sure, there was a little worship service, in the church I attended, we did have communion once a month at least, but not every Sunday. And even in churches I'd been to that did celebrate communion every week, it wasn't the central focus of the service. It was important, but everybody knew that the sermon was the real point. I used to feel guilty in high school if I left before the sermon was finished--it was always at the end and usually at least 45 minutes, often running over, so if I had to leave early I felt somehow like it didn't count. Like I'd gone to church that week but it didn't count somehow--I knew God didn't keep track with a checklist, but I still felt like I had cheated somehow.

Because it had never occurred to me before, because nobody had talked to me about why most Protestant services are structured the way they are, and because my mind was so blown by the idea of centering the liturgy around the Eucharist--and how right that seemed to me--I immediately presumed that this would be good news to everybody else. Essentially, I believed that the only reason people didn't think that centering around the Eucharist vs. the sermon was wonderful was because they didn't know about it.

Remember that friend I mentioned? One day we got in a conversation about it, and I shared with her my excitement--immediately I was taken aback. I presumed, naïvely, that she was essentially ignorant about what I had just discovered. Quite the opposite. She instantly (and not meanly, just matter-of-factly) explained that of course Protestant services aren't centered around the Eucharist, nor should they be. They have to be focused on "Preaching the Word" and the Gospel. (A term that had been expanded for me immensely during my time at Gordon. A segue for another time.*)

I sat there a little bit stunned. I don't remember what I said, I just remember that my heart sank a bit...how could we know the same information and yet come to such drastically different conclusions about it? We had such similar 'worldviews' in many ways, it's not like we came from incredibly different parts of the world or vastly different personalities. I knew obviously that people had disagreements, it certainly wasn't the first time I encountered this experience, but I think it was the first time that I'd encountered it with somebody that I felt so deeply to be a 'kindred spirit' of sorts.

This wasn't something I could just blame on ignorance--hers or mine--of the facts. Or on a different moral compass or anything else. It's funny, too, because she's gone through some pretty drastic life changes since then and is now an Episcopalian and doesn't really find affinity with Reformed or Evangelical labels anymore. But I digress.

I've been thinking about that a lot recently, regarding politics or even just many other things in life. There are many times when we can attribute differences of opinion or politics to ignorance on one or both sides, or perhaps even just a very narrow lens--nobody seems to have the full picture or be working with the same set of facts, and it's hard to really get a clear picture even if you try to be well-read, because it's hard sometimes to really understand the proportion of things.

But even if you can actually agree on the facts, you could end up having a VERY different reaction to those facts. And that's what feels heartbreaking to me sometimes. It's easier if I pretend in my mind that the opposite perspective (on some things, but not all) is just ignorant or 'hoodwinked'...but what if they do see the facts and they just don't care? What if it doesn't mean anything to them or they firmly believe in the opposite viewpoint, just as firmly as I believe in my own?

I know how to have these conversations about religion sometimes (not always), but I don't know how to have these conversations about politics. Not when beliefs and policies have very real effects on the lives of so many people.

It feels hopeful to presume sometimes that disagreements could just be resolved if we could somehow all listen to each other. But I don't know that it's really realistic. I know that people sometimes do change their minds when they encounter another perspective--I have, I know many people who have, usually in the context of long-term relationships. But I also can think of so many times when that hasn't worked. When things haven't changed, and had to resign myself that perhaps they never will.

It feels futile, sometimes. And I hate that feeling--but like Sisyphus, I keep trying, because I don't know what else to do. And maybe eventually something will break through...put maybe I'll just keep pushing a giant boulder up a hill only to see all my work undone every day.

+Athena

*I normally don't like it when people discuss what they're not going to write about in a piece of writing. I'm doing it here intentionally because I hope to follow-through on that in this blog, so it seems fair to leave myself this reminder.

Athena: Mini-break

Augustine,

So I was behind a bit in my regular writing/posting, and then Thanksgiving break and I just...didn't go on my actual computer that much. It's too difficult to really blog from my iPhone (especially since iOS dropped the Blogger app *major side-eye at Apple*). I wish I could say that this meant that I wasn't on the internet as much...but I still was a fair amount. Just not on my laptop itself. So I'm going to try and catch up a little bit this week, because I still would like to somehow have 30 blog posts by the end of November, and I'm cutting it a little close.

I think I might keep writing here as well, because I do really like the letter format and I do feel better when I write. And I absolutely love reading your letters too.

I hope that your Thanksgiving was...exactly what it needed to be. And I hope that you are feeling more and more on the mend. I think you still have a little vacation time left, if my calculations are correct, and I hope that you 'suck the marrow' out of each and every moment. That you're reading beautiful things and writing writing writing.

+Athena

Augustine: Native Tongue

Dear Athena,

I came here this morning after waking up at 6:30am and following a normal routine. A routine I don't need to follow because I'm off from work, but one that I realize, if I don't practice now, will become difficult to return to. I drove to my favorite coffee shop Enchanted Grounds to review my todo list (todoist), which, as of today, stands at 131 neglected inbox events.

I sat down at one of my favorite tables with one of my favorite teas (bottomless, so as much as I want) and went to open up to open up the list. A few seconds later the middle aged man and twenty something woman sitting in the leather chairs in front of me began talking about student papers.

"I'm grading senior papers." He said

I was hooked. I spend so much of my life dealing with assessment and I can't seem to turn away when I get to hear the raw thought process of teachers openly reading, critiquing and judging student papers.

He lamented his terrrible fate at having to grade endless papers. And I understand, grading with 150 stuends at take an entire weekend. But this was not his primary complaint. It was the "abysmal" nature of their writing. He pulls up one paper that he anticipates will be particularly painful and let's her read.

The assignment is explained as to write four papers on issues you feel passionately about. That you must argue and defend your point of view.

They begin discussing the student and my heart saddens a bit as they, in vague terms, belittle her. But then the twenty something, who is seeming more like a girl, comments that the paper is not that bad. That she defends her points.

He comments, "Oh she probably wrote something about gender equality or whatever."

In the next minute, the following would come into stark clarity. Have you ever seen  chocolate or another food pulled out of liquid by a string or machine? You might never know it was there, then sudden realization you see a solid shape emerge from the dark liquid, dripping, but its form seen now clearly above the liquid's surface.

The paper was about homosexuality. She wrote, in her best defense, how Christians do not need to accept gay lifestyles, but that they do not need to interfere with governmental laws that guarantee the same rights. Her points are well argued. The college girl, a previous student at this incredibly wealthy private Christian school, acknoweldges the well-made arguments. He dismisses the affirmation, "well that's just one, and there's a lot of other terrible papers waiting at the bottom, I'm sure." Both he and she reiterate "Oh, but I really like her. I think she's good."

For the next couple of hours I would play a card game on my computer, trying to not listen, but only occasionally putting on my headphones and then not even turning them on. She talked about college and her conversations with other students. They discussed the school and students. He would ask her about boys in her life.

Athena, I don't know how to capture my thoughts from here. They were ranged and did not seem to represent a larger form.

I've thought to myself:

Oh God, this is horrifying to listen to you? Why did you invade the safety of my coffee shop?

Cami, would be such a better mentor for this person.

Amy, needs to take the program in school counseling and work with these students instead.

I need to get back to mentoring students. Maybe that's the real work I should be doing?

(Heart sinks) You are so judgmental and young. Not towards my people but towards the other people in your own community. You are judging other people's faith based on their tattoos.

This is who I was when I went to Gordon. This is who so many of us were when we first started. And Gordon, for whatever it is becoming, saved so many of us from this.

Rachel Evans use to be like you, exactly everything you are, she was there, and she has come so far, there is hope for these students. Maybe not this teacher, but for these students there is hope.

That student who wrote that paper is trying, she may very well break free one day and see in ways she never did before, but it will not be while she is there. In her own time.

Why is this the church? Why is the church seem to  mostly  be a before who are entitled about their own positions, judging and shaming others in small ways that they don't even comprehend? Why is it that the place that claims so much love, forgiveness, compassion; the one that seems least capable of practicing any degree of empathy or perspective taking for others? The church feels more like a tribe of insulation. A cult if I might say. That is constantly evaluating who is "in" and who is out.

Rachel Held Evans comes to mind in her speech when she says, the greatest scandal of the church is not who it keeps out but who it lets in. The scandal of grace. I wish that were true. I wish the church was not this.

This all seems like a strange curiosity now. This church, resembles nothing of what it claims to believe, but that doesn't seem to matter anymore. It doesn't matter anymore to me. Like Paul said in response to Elaine Phillips writing on homosexuality: I've read this all before and can see it at a distance.

Like a stranger revisiting home, I know it all, but it no longer seems to move me to action. Like an immortal being, I feel like I walk through the castle I was raised in, as it clutches to its traditions and the walls slowly crumble, I don't feel nostalgia, just curious abstraction.

I have to get my hair cut. I wish I could write more. I leave you with words…words I don't have an adjective for right now.

+Augustine

"Native Tongue"

I know what you’re saying it’s my native tongue

Heard it as a child and it soothed me

I know where we’re going like the river runs

In its pathways

I know what you’re saying

I know what you’re saying

Something really happened

It was wild and true

We talked about it for a hundred years

Looking for the Spirit but the Spirit moves,

I believe he’s moving here

I know what you’re saying

I know what you’re saying

Looking for a language that is older still

The taproot of a living Word

Resonating echoes of an Eden song

Waiting to be heard

I know what you’re saying

I know what you’re saying

Looking for a language that is older still

The taproot of a living Word

Resonating echoes of an Eden song

Waiting to be heard

Looking for a language that is older still

The taproot of a living Word

Resonating echoes of an Eden song

Waiting to be heard

Waiting to be heard

I know what you’re saying it’s my native tongue

I know what you’re saying, I know what you’re saying