Daddy Dudes: Why I Love the PNW

Today I had a couple of conversations about people I affectionately call "Daddy Dudes." These are the guys who know how to use a circular saw and also how to love their children. One of the great joys of living in the Pacific Northwest is the sheer number of men I see every day who are equally comfortable in their masculinity and their role as a nurturer. (Before I receive emails telling me that men don't have conform to any particular picture of masculinity, STOP, and read on.) One of the many things that I like about the PNW is that for many of the men I know, see, and meet, conforming to such standards is simply a nonissue. Whether they like power saws, musicals, rock climbing, sewing, movie watching, or bowling, they are comfortable in their skin, and they are comfortable being hands on loving parents with their kids. That's what I'm talking about.

It isn't uncommon to see guys with babies strapped to their chests or backs walking Green Lake or riding a bus. Every day I see men pushing strollers, jostling crying babies in restaurants, and getting up (before their wives do) to change diapers. I know several men who decided to be stay at home dads while their wives continued with their day jobs...and they are completely unfazed by this arrangement. I know men who take their daughters rock climbing and pack up all three of their kids to go to the zoo. I know men who are contractors by day and bath time daddies at night. The men who reach out with their calloused hands to offer the gentlest of loving hugs to their children, you are magnificent! These are men who understand that their "manhood" isn't conditioned on their testosterone. These are men who awe me.

The reason this is on my mind is that Seattle megapastor Mark Driscoll of megachurch Mars Hill Church recently co-authored a book with his wife Grace on marriage and sex (not referencing it directly, sorry). The reviews have been passionate, simply fascinating to read. Like most things undertaken by Driscoll, this book has heated up quite a debate. Such attention is not new for Driscoll. Occasionally, he steps into the national spotlight because of his less than "orthodox" (pun intended) use of language, i.e. "harsh" words, his theology, and his off the cuff remarks. For those of us in the Seattle area, we hear more about Mark Driscoll than probably the rest of the world does, but he has made and continues to make an impression in the lives of new Christians all over the country.

Driscoll and his church are what are known as "complementarians," which is a word that describes people who believe that men and women are ordained by God to serve complementary but different roles in life. The flip side to complementarianism is often referred to as "egalitarianism" - men and women equal in all things. In complementarianism, men are the leaders of their churches and their homes and should love them as Christ loves the Church. Women are to serve men and to support them as the Church does Christ. This is an oversimplification, but you get the gist. There are many forms of complementarian thought. Mark Driscoll's form, and thus Mars Hill's form, not only prescribes roles, but teaches that "real" men behave, move, and act in very particular ways, and this view has periodically put Driscoll in the hot seat with other Christians, including Evangelicals and even other complementarians.

I don't want to take this whole post and focus on Mark Driscoll. Rather, I started this post because I wanted to thank those loving men whom I know and those whom I will never meet but see every day. I thank them for their kindness, their ability to withstand the Mark Driscolls of the world, their complete comfort in being who they are and loving the ones close to them. For all of the guys out there who have not been held prisoner by examples of brutal dads, distant dads, stern dads, harsh dads, and hands off dads, thank you. Every time you tuck in a child, give a bath, teach a child a song, show a child how to ride a bike, say I'm sorry, kiss your partner with gentleness in front of your child, hold hands, read a book out loud, embody humility, wash the dishes, laugh with joy, make the bed, do the laundry, cry, throw a ball, build a birdhouse, plant a garden, pray with your family, take out the garbage, celebrate your spouse's success, or do any of the millions of other things that you do every day, you are teaching the world what it really means to be a man - a responsible, comfortable in your own skin, adult man. When you embody these things without apology and with grace, you make the world a better place.

For all of the pastors out there who have told guys that they have to like and do Mixed Martial Arts, shoot animals, like guns, swear like a sailor, use anger as a first defense against all vulnerable feelings, or belittle others, I apologize. They may not know the damage that they have done, but I do. You may like some of these things. If so, go for it. But, if you don't, your worth as a man is not predicated upon your affinity for all things testosterone driven.

So, to all you Daddy Dudes, thanks and keep up the good work! For the men I see every day in the PNW, keep showing the world that you can build a house, a great community, and a lovely family all at the same time. We need heroes like you.

PS Another reason I love the PNW: Seattle Stay At Home Dads. Check them out!

TS Eliot and the Magi

Here is the crux of this year's Epiphany sermon at Queen Anne United Methodist Church. It seems to me that Epiphany calls us to go down new paths. More than that, though, in our time of intense international conflict and uncertainty, the idea of all nations seeking light to lead us all to peace is a wonderful thought.



Soon after his conversion and baptism in 1927, TS Eliot wrote “Journey of the Magi,” which begins:

‘A cold coming we had of it,
Just the worst time of the year
For a journey, and such a long journey:
The ways deep and the weather sharp,
The very dead of winter.’

Eliot wrote this poem during a time of deep personal and spiritual struggle. His marriage, which had been difficult for a number of years, was coming to a close. His newly forming faith demanded that he leave behind parts of himself to which he had grown accustomed. Everything was changing. New life was born out of a series of deaths. The poem concludes:

'All this was a long time ago, I remember,
And I would do it again, but set down
This set down
This: were we led all that way for
Birth or Death? There was a Birth, certainly,
We had evidence and no doubt. I had seen birth and death,
But had thought they were different; this Birth was
Hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our death.
We returned to our places, these Kingdoms,
But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,
With an alien people clutching their gods.
I should be glad of another death.'

The story of the Magi, which culminates in the Adoration of the Magi on January 6 – Epiphany – is a story about uncertainty, journey, death, and birth. Many of us look back to the story of the Magi believing it to be part of our spiritual history, but, a more mature faith looks to the story as something much more meaningful. It is about us searching for God. We struggle. We search. We come to what feels like unsatisfactory endings to our travels only to be led down yet more paths to unknown destinations. We go through periods of deep uncertainty. Like the Magi, we little understand the culture or the ways of Jesus and his family. Like the Magi, we are distanced from them by space. Unlike the Magi, we are also distanced by two millennia; time is its own ocean we must cross to meet the Christ-child. Like the Magi, we must die to our gods in order to enter into the presence of the God of the Most High.

Epiphany is our celebration of the gift of ourselves to God. We bring all that we have – our best, our most precious selves and we kneel in awe and wonder at the miracle of the Divine One right here among us. Epiphany is for all who struggle and weep, for all who wrestle with God, for all who question whether we will find God at all. Epiphany is our way of experiencing together, if only for one day, a reality that is both in and outside of our world. God is here. In the humble places. In our fear. In our dreams. In the dirt, slime, and muck of the world. God is here. Despite our doubts. Despite our wars. Despite our greed. Despite our proclivity to wound one another. God is here. God knows the pain of birth, life, and death. God knows all that we experience because God experiences it with us. Birth and death. So close together. As we start our new year together, I wish you healing deaths and vibrant life. I hope that we, like the Magi, learn to die that we might live. I hope that we, Queen Anne UMC, can hear the beauty and the calling of the words of TS Eliot, whose own journey to the manger led him to realize:

'I had seen birth and death,
But had thought they were different; this Birth was
Hard and bitter agony for us, like Death, our death.
We returned to our places, these Kingdoms,
But no longer at ease here, in the old dispensation,
With an alien people clutching their gods.
I should be glad of another death.'

The Oddity of Christmas Eve

With Christmas Eve, Christians fall into a rather odd tradition of waiting for a Prince (of peace), a King, and a pauper (He was, after all, born in manger under threatening political circumstances). Let no one convince you that what we do is rational or what we celebrate is normal. Let no one rob you of the wonder of a child born into a feeding trough who becomes nourishment and strength for our world. Let no one explain away the peculiarities of this holy day. It is odd, indeed. We sit vigil to welcome a king born in lowly estate, and we pray with all that we have that his reign of peace will finally come to all peoples living under all flags. We sit vigil to experience God's holy breath that spoke creation into being miraculously become flesh. The holy and everlasting Divine breaks into our imperfect and finite existence to dwell with us in our suffering and to lead us to life eternal - life wholly and fully lived. O come, o come, Emmanuel.

Advent Theme

This past July I was appointed to a different congregation. That means that this year Advent is a brand new experience. This year I am in community with a whole new bunch of folks as we prepare for, wait for, and anticipate the birth of the Christ-child. So, since this has been a season of entering into new community, our Advent theme has been [ENTER].

We started the first week with [Enter the Challenge]. We talked about the challenges presented by scriptures that portend the end of things when we are ready for happy and hopeful scriptures about the beginning of things. We explored how staying with the challenging scriptures can lead us to a more mature faith and a deeper understanding of the incredible grace that God extends to the world by choosing to enter into it radically and fully.

Advent 2 was called [Enter the Reality]. We invited a speaker to come and share about Mary's Place and the Church of Mary Magdalene, which serve homeless and formerly homeless women in Seattle. A woman shared about her journey from a life of homelessness and hopelessness. She now lives in a home and has been reunited with children from whom she had been separated. She stays active at Mary's Place as a mentor and example of what change can occur. Reality is something we often try to escape, but faith keeps us radically present in reality. God is radically present in reality by being born into our flawed and hurting world. God enters reality and so should we.

Advent 3 brought us to [Enter the Dream]. Relying upon the lectionary scripture Isaiah 61, we explored God's dream of a healed world. We also played with the lectionary and changed the gospel reading to Zechariah's Song, which also offers a dream of a different world.

On Advent 4, we will move to the theme [Enter the Song]. Mary and her Magnificat will take center stage. What song does our world need to hear? What song is in our hearts? We will use icons to explore moving through that which is right in front of us to something sacred and wondrous. Music does this, too. Music can take complicated ideas and dry and dull words and elicit deeply powerful emotions. Music helps us move deeply into experience. This week we [Enter the Song].

And, on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day we [Enter the Mystery] and [Enter the Poetry]. We arrive at our destination, and we enter fully into the miracle of God with Us.

I don't know how clear these themes have been to the people in the congregation, but they have been primary for me. I am trying to enter into their lives. We are trying together to enter into ministry with each other. We are trying to enter into a new year with hope and joy and trust. It seemed [ENTERING] would be a good fit for us. It is, after all, what we are doing with one another, and it is what God is doing with us all.

[ENTER...]

Our Struggles are (Sadly) Not New

The feast day for Saint Ambrose was last week on December 7. Properly named Aurelius Ambrosius, he lived in the mid and late 300s and was the bishop of Milan. Legend has it that at his birth a swarm of bees landed on his tongue foreshadowing that he would become a great orator whose words would be sweeter than honey. St. Ambrose is the patron saint of bee keepers, bees, students, Milan, candle makers, and domestic animals. And, he was outspoken on social issues that affected the people living in the late 300s, including economic inequality and how inequality relates to the God of our scriptures.

St. Ambrose said, "Wealth, which leads men the wrong way so often, [should be] seen less for its own qualities than for the human misery it stands for... The large rooms of which you are so proud are in fact your shame. They are big enough to hold crowds—and also big enough to shut out the voice of the poor! ... The poor man cries before your house, and you pay no attention. There is your brother, naked, crying, and you stand there, confused over the choice of an attractive floor covering"
(... St. Ambrose of Milan (Aurelius Ambrosius) (339-397), De Nabuthe Jezraelite [ca.395], in Journal of the History of Ideas, v. III, Johns Hopkins University Press, 1942, XIII.56, p. 461 (see the book; see also 1 Kings 21:1-19; Luke 12:15; more at Man, Poverty, Pride, Shame, Sin, Way, Wealth, Wrong)).

Ambrose, along with many other early Mothers and Fathers, did not have and were not trapped by the language of or political and economic systems of our time. How we understand our world is a product of Modernity. We are post-Industrial Revolution. We are the children of the Enlightenment. Not them. Church Mothers and Fathers were neither capitalists nor communists, not socialists or anarchists. This nomenclature and the systems to which they refer are modern inventions. Rather, the early Church Mothers and Fathers were simply Christian. They looked at the plight of the poor in their towns and villages, and they knew that something was wrong.

To come to this conclusion, all early Mothers and Fathers had to do was turn to scripture and search their hearts. They knew that capricious wealth and voracious greed are not part of God's good kingdom. From the 8th century prophets to first century epistles, the Bible speaks against usury, wealth accumulation, latifundialization, deceptive weights and measures used against the poor, corrupt justice systems, and neglect of the most vulnerable (known in the Bible as the widow, orphan, and stranger). We are incorrect if we call leaders of the early Church socialists; they were not. They were biblicists.

Wealth, in and of itself, is not the problem. It wasn't in the Bible. It wasn't to the early Church. And, I would say that wealth isn't the problem today. The question asked in the Bible - the judgment leveled at the extraordinarily rich- concerns the manner by which wealth was accumulated. How, the prophets ask, did you become so wealthy and by what means are you protecting that wealth? Have you charged unreasonable interest on the poor (usury)? Did you confiscate ancestral lands and drive the poor from subsistence living into slavery or indentured servitude that results in a system of poverty and indebtedness that cannot be escaped (latifundialization)? With your power and privilege, did you simply cheat the poor by weighing their crops with false weights and measures in order to pay them less or to require them to produce more to pay back debt? And, when they fell into debt, were you merciful or merciless? Did you meet at the city gates to arbitrate justice and rely upon your position of power to secure a favorable outcome regardless of truth or justice? Did you take all you can, hoard all you have, and withhold from the weak and vulnerable? These are the issues that riddle our sacred texts. They are not about partisan politics. They are unconcerned with specific economic policy except insofar as those policies affect and impact the poor and weak. Once again, the problem isn't wealth but the ethics used to justify the accumulation and protection of wealth. St. Ambrose also said, "It is the poor who mine gold, though they are denied gold; they are forced to work for what they cannot keep." This is at the heart if the gospel.

To my fellow Christians who believe that the Bible is primarily or even solely concerned with spiritual matters (meaning, not physical) and the afterlife, let me refer you to the 10 Commandments, Exodus, Leviticus, the rules about Sabbath, the prophets, the Apostle Paul, the Book of the Revelation, and Jesus as given to us in the gospels and the Acts of the Apostles. These writings are replete with stories, examples, and teachings about economic ethics. Why? Because God's kingdom is real; it is physical. It is lived out among people on this earth. One cannot speak about God's world without addressing the difficult details that determine how we live together.

To my sister Christians who want to cast Jesus, the prophets, and the early Church as socialists, I must also correct you. God's kin-dom does not conform to the economic models of our making. To elevate our economic systems above God (whether those systems are capitalism, socialism, communism, or anarchy) is at best foolish and, more accurately, idolatrous. We must do what the early Mothers and Fathers did - what the prophets did - we must measure our systems against God's vision. We must, of course, always be aware of cultural conventions in the Bible and avoid becoming biblical literalists. Yet there are some overriding principles in the Bible that have found themselves embraced through the ages. Like the authors of the Bible, we, too, can ask ourselves how wealth is gained and maintained. And, our answer will tell us whether to support or confront, to embrace or reject. Let's resist the easy opportunities to use God for our own political and personal ends, for God is not a means to and end. God is the ultimate end. We are not the Ultimate Being; we are laborers on behalf of the Ultimate One.

As we move through this week toward Mary's Sunday on this fourth week in Advent, I may add to this post by including more and more quotes from the Bible and the early Church about God's kingdom and economics. The problem, sadly, is that even in cyberspace there is not enough room to include all of the quotes because our struggle with economic disparity is nothing new.

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"Feeding the hungry is a greater work than raising the dead" (St. John Chrysostom).

"Houses of hospitality must be built for the poor in every city of every diocese" (Council of Nicea).

Why I Want Gifts for Christmas (by Katie M Ladd)

This essay is entitled "Why I Want Gifts for Christmas (by Katie M Ladd)" because I want gifts. For Christmas. This year. As I scroll through Facebook and read editorials, I see many people writing about their desire to forego gifts. "All I want is time spent with family." Really? That's all they want? I am clearly a bad person. I don't just want that. I want a new Blu-Ray player, Harry Potter movies to play on that Blu-Ray, the dent in my car fixed, my car detailed, maybe a new blender, a coat (my one coat is several years old), some pants that fit, underwear, gift certificates to go to the movies, hiking shoes, fig preserves (the best food on earth), an itunes gift certificate, good smelling candles, and a new pair of gloves. Okay, I won't be shy. I also want a scooter to drive to work, a signed piece of art by Charles Schulz* (my favorite art of all time! Go, Charlie Brown!), renovations done to my house (heck, a new house), an electric car, a new electricity panel at my house that could handle an electric car, solar panels on my house, a wi-fi fob on my tv so I can stream television shows, a fenced in yard, a puppy in my fenced in yard, a trip to Turkey and Greece, and a lot of money. I want all of these things. I am not exaggerating. I want every single one of these things.

I like things. I don't like shopping. But, I like things. I want things. I do.

And, yet...

I am not asking for these things (well, most of them) because even though I want them, I know that there is a better way to mark this holy season - there is a better way to live my life. One problem we seem to have in this country is that we have acquiesced to the premise that if we want it, we should have it. That is not an ecological ideal. It is not a communal idea. It is not an ethical virtue. It is not a Christian value. We can rise above our wants. We are, after all, sentient beings capable of reflection, thought, planning, and empathy. Despite the misguided resurgent devotion to Ayn Rand, the proper moral pursuit for a human being isn't necessarily that person's personal happiness or self-interest. We belong to groups - families, communities, churches, synagogues, mosques, prayer circles, hiking clubs, book clubs, alumna associations, alumnae associations, parenting groups, 12 step groups, circles of friends, and so forth. We do not belong only to ourselves. Pursuing aims, including "things," for our own self-interest without regard to how this pursuit affects others should not be lauded. Sorry, Ayn. You were wrong. Those who follow you today are wrong. I am more than a collection on wants or even needs. I am more. We are more.

For those who feel the need to pepper spray fellow shoppers, camp in tents in order to buy a new PlayStation, stand in long lines to get a deal on a pair of jeans, I wonder, "How much did this enrich your life and the life of your community?" Aren't you more than this?

The ethics of my faith and the mystery of the Christmas story remind us all that we are more than our basest selves. Human beings are capable of immeasurable kindness and compassion. Human beings are able to step away from self-interest for the sake of another. We are. You are. I am. We are able to ask this Christmas for a different kind of gift, not because we don't want other things, but because we are committed to something more.

The Christmas story is fundamentally a story about God bringing life from a place where no life should be. It is a story that parodies the birth stories of the great. It makes a farce of the powerful and the rich. The great song of Christmas is Mary's Song, the Magnificat. How ironic that the song of the soul of Christmas includes, "[God] has shown strength with his arm; he has scattered the proud in the imagination of their hearts. He has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly; he has filled the hungry with good things, and sent the rich away empty" (Luke 1:51-53) when we grapple and fight, scratch and claw our way toward a new toaster. Let's not allow Christmas to be ironic this year. Let's look with hopeful hearts for Christ's light to shine in our darkness, for God's Son to be born. Let's do Christmas differently this year. With joy. And simplicity. And love for neighbor. Let's approach Christmas with a hope for life in our lifeless communities.

I want things. I bet you do, too. Here's my actual Christmas list. Notice, it still includes a few things.
*Blu-Ray Player
*Harry Potter on Blu-Ray
*Donations to UMCOR
*Donations to the Woodland Park Zoo - specifically for the Western Pond Turtle
*Donations to Heifer International
*Donations to the Church of Mary Magdalene/Mary's Place
*Donations to the Trevor Project
*Donations to Jamaa Letu
*Donations to Nothing But Nets
*Donations to Wildlife Direct - Mountain Gorillas
*Donations to Operation Nightwatch
*Fig Preserves

Feel free to buy me gifts. All of you. I welcome the stranger reading this post to give me a gift, but don't get the Blu-Ray or the Harry Potter (I'm very particular, you see). Get the rest. Fig preserves are welcome.

*It was brought to my attention that I originally posted that I wanted art from Howard Schultz. Um, in my defense, I was drinking a Starbucks coffee at the time. Cross-contamination. I don't particularly care for art from him, unless coffee counts. I want art by Charles Schulz, the creator of Charlie Brown and his crazy gang of friends.

Hobbling the Occupy Movement

Forty days ago I was struck by a car while I was walking. Thank goodness my injuries were not life threatening. For this I am very grateful. However, I have been left wounded; I am still hobbling on crutches, limping without crutches, and going through the too long and arduous process of healing. All of this has taken place as the Occupy movement has come to Seattle and set up its tent. I have been forced to watch from the sidelines shaking my crutches in frustration that I am unable to offer my time and presence. It has been my sense that I would not be a pastoral presence to the occupiers, a mediating influence between them and the police, or an effective witness in the street. All I have been able to do is pray...from a distance. And pray, I have done.

Seattle, by its nature, is a liberal city. For assistance during the most recent election, I turned to a progressive voting guide. Where else would one do this and find candidate after candidate equally acceptable to the progressive voter? Mostly, a person had to choose the issues that were of most importance and vote for the candidate that shared a passion for it. It was a liberal v liberal election, a progressive v progressive election. Given the overall liberality of the city, it didn't take long for the city council to consider divesting money from big banks and explore more ethical means of banking. The mayor praised the movement and committed to ensuring its ability to maintain its presence. A town hall was held to discuss the city council's decision to affirm and support the general principles of the movement. But, like so many things, the Seattle-Occupy relationship fast became complicated.

Skirmishes with police dotted daily proceedings. The town hall was interrupted by occupiers who decried the process. The daily worker grew frustrated that protests ostensibly geared for their benefit were disrupting their sleep and obstructing their streets. I have followed the conversation and watched it unfold, but I have not been able to be part of it.

Then, yesterday afternoon, the Occupy Seattle Facebook page indicated that the afternoon's protest was being met with an even larger police presence. This lit up the Livestream conversation as people wondered if Occupy Seattle would be going the way of Occupy Wall Street, Occupy Oakland, and Occupy Portland. Was the tension about to reach an untenable level? Would the police, militarized and frustrated, about to ratchet up the confrontation? "Come down," the cry went out. I looked at my crutches, felt my swollen knee, and knew that I could not come down. I could neither parade nor process, much less carry a sign or wear a robe. I read the feed.

As most in the nation know, tensions did finally mount to a breaking point. The police, claiming to do nothing more than keep the streets clear, pepper sprayed the group and arrested several people. Among those in the melee were a pregnant woman, a United Methodist colleague, and a wonderfully prophetic 84 year old Seattle woman. Dorli Rainey is a character who cannot be summed up in a sentence or two. If you want to know her, visit her website. Yes, she has a website.

Agitating for change is a dicey process. On the one hand, change won't occur without agitation. On the other, the desired change will be elusive if the agitation shakes off needed support. The Occupy movement has struggled to find the balance between too little and too much agitation. Those who maintain that protestors "should" do it legally without upsetting anyone don't understand that the goal of the movement is not simply to vent frustration "at the man." Rather, the goal is to question and demand change in political and economic decision making processes and the policies which they create. Any system that consistently and relentlessly values the rich and powerful at the expense of the poor and vulnerable is a corrupt system. To those in the Abrahamic traditions, it is an evil system. Moreover, it is such an ensconced system that a lot of agitation is needed to force it to change. That is why agitation and even confrontation are needed. That is why lawful protest won't work. It won't agitate enough to upset large and deeply rooted institutions, processes, or policies. Heck, lawful protest wouldn't even garner attention of the press, which is vital in creating change. On the other hand, those who yearn for confrontation for the sake of confrontation do so at the peril of the overall goal. Commuters are part of the 99% as are police, fire fighters, and neighbors trying to sleep. Neighborliness must be a part of the movement if the movement is going to really be about a better society - a better community.

I have not been able to be part of Seattle's Occupy community - to either turn up the heat of agitation or provide a calming presence that fosters neighborliness. This timeout for me has been a great lesson in humility and patience. Despite daily hopes of heading out to be present with folks, to hear their stories, to pray with those who need, or to witness the yearnings of so many who hope for so much better, I have been sidelined. And, somehow, miraculously, the people continue to walk, chant, and agitate...all without me. Amazing. (I hope you are reading the sarcasm in my fingers that type this.)

Movements like this need us all. Yet, movements like this are bigger than any one of us. The church is like this. It needs every caring hand to reach out and every gospel changed heart to pray. But, church is bigger than any one of us. It is about a dream, a hope, a vision of another world, a new heaven and a new earth. We are not indispensable as individuals. Yet, we are vitally needed. I don't know what will wind up happening with the overall Occupy movement, especially as cities begin to crack down on them. On this point, the Occupy movement could learn from the Jesus movement. We certainly faced steep odds in the face of enormous empire, and we found a way to thrive. What I do know about the Occupy movement is that its work is not done. It has achieved an amazing amount by casting the whole nation into conversation about banks, the economy, the intersection between greed and the environment, and the ruthless treatment of the poor. Mazel tov! There is more to be done, though. Money is still the language of politics. Money still flows to the wealthy and not to those in need. Money will always threaten to displace honest and sincere dialogue about the common good. The goals of the Occupy movement will still be there when my leg finally heals and I can walk with them down this journey. But, part of me wishes that this were not so. The better part of me wishes that all of the concerns would be addressed so that my ambulatory self would be unnecessary. The better part of wishes that the powers and principalities that so desperately want to hobble the Occupy movement would themselves be hobbled such that their limitless power no more could hurt, foreclose, outsource, defraud, and impoverish the working class and the unemployed.

I am in a reflective mood these days. it is hard to let go. It is difficult to know that all that I have to offer are my prayers. But, perhaps that is my lesson this time around. Perhaps it is my gift. I have prayer to offer. I have perspective, distance, and prayer. I do not need to hobble the Occupy Seattle scene with my presence. Rather, I can use my wounded body to remember all who are wounded, all who struggle to make it through a day, all who cry out in pain. I can carry my crutches as a reminder that our culture leans on oil and other dirty energy. Every time I lean forward to swing my hurting leg onward I can think of how we lean on the least and the last and allow them to hold the rest of us up and provide us with cheap goods. Every time my knee spasms or my back hurts I can feel the pain of those without work, those losing their homes, those who do not think there is anything good left to feel. And, I can hope for the time when I will be free from these crutches, unencumbered and truly myself once again just as I hope for police who act with restraint and city councils who do not turn deaf ears to the cries of pain in their communities and a Congress that will seek a common good and a president who will move the country toward peaceableness, clean(er) energy policies, and neighborliness throughout the world. I cannot be in the streets right now, but I can pray for those who are. And, pray I will.

I will not hobble the Occupy movement by withholding my prayers.