spring
Weekly newsletter 3.30.2021
Friends,
As a kid, I thought the variety of holidays that popped up at certain times in the year was a remarkable coincidence, and it instilled in me the sense that all religious holidays, and religions by extension, are the same. I was comfortable with the notion that we are all doing the same thing, just with different vocabulary and props, and stories like the fable of the five blind men and the elephant reinforced what seemed to be both common sense and a deep truth. This perspective, sometimes called “inclusivism” or “assimilationism,” is popular - it underlies the notion of the “melting pot” in which difference blends into unity (and, by implication, uniformity) - but as I developed a stronger sense of my own identities, it didn’t jibe with my lived experience. No, I came to recognize, Chanukah is not “the Jewish version of Christmas,” nor is Passover just an earlier iteration of Easter. Subsuming another tradition into my own - in this case, treating Judaism as a different form of Christianity - wasn’t a starting point for interfaith understanding. It was a form of anti-Judaism or antisemitism that resonated with centuries of supersessionist ideas. Similarly, I came to understand that the notion of the “American melting pot” was thinly veiled cultural hegemony that instructed newer-comers to assimilate to the standards and practices that European colonists established.
That said, the story of the five blind men and the elephant does provide two overlooked insights. First, the metaphor of blindness is a not-so-subtle nod to the limitations of our understanding. The characters in the story are limited not only by their general condition - they’re limited by their locations. Recognizing this might inspire humility and resonate with Socrates’ insight that true wisdom comes from knowing that we know nothing, and, as this retelling not-so-subtly suggests, acknowledging our limitations doesn’t just open the door to cooperation - it requires it. Second, each of the characters was right. Their experiences, from their perspectives, were true, and for each the experience is authoritative. Sure, the storyteller and storytold know what an elephant really is and understand the moral of the story, that “To learn the truth, we must put all the parts together,” but maybe that’s where we fall into the trap of affirming what we already think we know. Is there a single truth to be grasped? Sure, the characters could collate their data to get a more complete portrait of this elephant, but aren’t there varieties of elephant? Don’t they differ in size and gender and genetic traits? Could we ever, limitations and all, identify a singular and encompassing truth of “elephant”?
The characters in the fable are responding to a common encounter, but they experience it differently. Likewise, cultural and religious groups might respond to the common experience of the change of seasons or mark our cyclical laps around the sun, but they experience it, understand it, and construct meaning around it very differently. This is one of those times in the year that religion geeks like me really, well, geek out. Norooz, Pesach, Holy Week, Holi, and this year the Muslim calendar (a lunar calendar that moves holidays through the seasons over time) adds Lailat al Bara’ah and preparations for Ramadan to the mix. Look around at what is happening and how. Sure, observance of each of these holidays draws imagery and language from the mystery of spring, the seasonal renewal phase of the cycle of life, but each does it distinctly. People engaging these holidays come together in different ways, tell very different stories, and find differing insights into the nature of the divine (not to mention the nature of being human). If we were all doing the same thing, we’d all be doing the same things.
As a student of religion (#religiongeek), I’m always interested in the ways that ritual and symbolic practice shape people and communities - how the experience impacts the choices they choose, the feelings they feel, the understandings they understand. Every experience informs the way we see the world, and this spring I’m particularly curious about the ways that spring observances shape our response to the experiences of the last year. How does the juxtaposition of spring with our traditions and customs influence our understanding of a global pandemic? of systemic injustice? of magnified disparities? of the degradation of the planet? How does the experience of witnessing new and renewed life shape our understanding of the events and troubles weighing on (some of) us like the trial in Minnesota? the Catholic response to a question about blessing same-sex unions? How does our understanding of the renewal of life enable or challenge us to observe the International Transgender Day of Visibility?
For me, the diversity of practices that come with spring is a reminder of, well, the diversity of our species, and as folx animate customs that have been passed and adapted for generations, I’m hopeful that the insights we glean will help us to recognize and affirm that diversity in big and little, profound and immediate ways. I’m hopeful that, like the elephant-exploring characters who went forward, hands on others’ shoulders to navigate the twists and turns ahead of them, we can link our various insights and tidbits of wisdom, the joys and sorrows we’ve known, to find our way forward.
UPCOMING
Guided Meditations | Mondays, 4:00pm PST & Thursdays, 9am PST (Starting April 8!) via Zoom
Good Stuff III | 4-week symposium on Mondays at 5:00pm PST begins on April 5. Sign up here!
Good habits: understanding nuns through film | 6-week symposium on Tuesdays at 5:00pm PST begins on April 6. Sign up here!
Madonna: a case study in religion & pop culture | 5-week symposium on Thursdays at 7:00pm PST begins on April 15.
UPDATES
What, exactly, is a symposium? It’s a chance for a group of people to connect, experience something, and engage in meaningful conversation. In the last Good Stuff, we looked at the art of Melody Postma, listened to music by Gaby Moreno, Gogol Bordello, and Natasha Bedingfield, explored ideas from Catherine Bell, Diana Eck, and Valerie Kaur, laughed with xkcd and Margaret Cho, found inspiration from Jane Fonda and Thomas Merton, read poems by Kara Ingraham and Mary Oliver, and imagined a different kind of fairy tale with Todrick Hall. But the best part is the conversation sparked by these and driven by the insights each symposium participant brought to it. What will Good Stuff III include? Register to find out. Bring your friends. Post about it on the socials. Hire a skywriter. Come one, come all who are looking to think, feel, see, hear, learn, laugh, and connect. Registration is open for the Good Stuff III (Mondays beginning April 5) and Good habits: understanding nuns through film (Tuesdays beginning April 6) symposia. Check out my website for more information and to sign up. Interested? More info and registration are here. Symposia are limited to 10 participants and need 4 to run - if you’ve thought about participating, now is the time to sign up!
In addition to the Good Stuff and Good habits symposia, I’ll be facilitating a symposium on Madonna Studies as part of Tacoma Arts Live’s Adult Conservatory. This symposium will meet on Thursdays for five weeks beginning April 15. To sign up, visit Tacoma Arts Live’s Adult Classes & Outreach page. If you know any Madonnawannabes or anyone who wants to participate in the amazing work of Tacoma Arts Live, you can point them to the symposium’s Facebook page, too.
Last week, I published a reflection, “Enough,” in response to the shootings in Atlanta and Boulder. Whenever I learn about a mass shooting, I’m quickly transported to my 11 year old self. In 1988, a woman killed one child and injured five when she attacked a school in my hometown, triggering my first experience of a lockdown. Mass shootings in schools and really every other possible environment continued at what I can only describe as an exponential rate, and now, thirty-two years later, mass shootings are part of our normal. My reflection is less of a proposal for how to stop this (that’s obvious, no?) and more of an exasperated vent leading to a single and persistent question: when is it enough?
Guided meditations via Zoom continue Mondays at 4:00pm PST, and (drumroll, please!) starting on April 8, Thursdays at 9:00am PST! These morning (on the West Coast)/mid-day (on the East Coast)/evening (wherever else you might be) sessions will be just like the Monday session - our aim is to practice being present and finding a little peace and quiet. If you’ve already signed up for Monday meditations, there’s no need to sign up again - the weekly reminder email will include links to both Monday and Thursday sessions. If you or someone you know could use a 20-30 minute dose of peace and quiet on Mondays or Thursdays, visit the meditation page on my site to sign up!
GOOD STUFF
Learn
March 31 is the International Transgender Day of Visibility. Not sure how to observe it? Start with expanding and refining your vocabulary! A friend recommended one particular voice to listen to - Schuyler Bailar, who was the first trans NCAA D1 men’s athlete. He provides ample resources to explore, but in terms of vocab starting points, Bailar identifies 23 terms to use. A few months ago he posted a chart demonstrating some of the most frequently used phrases when talking about gender transition - both the common, incorrect phrasings and correct, appropriate ways to talk about it. For example, “He was born a girl” is more accurately (and less hurtfully) expressed as “He was assigned female at birth.”
Listen
Looking for some good tunes to pick up the beat this spring? Try Balkan Beat Box. Few songs make me instantly happy like “Move It.” Pump up the volume if you’re out for a run or cleaning the house, or watch them bring a house to life in the song’s video.
If you stream music on Spotify, I’ve started a playlist called “Bill’s Good Stuff,” including music I’ve loved for a long time as well as things I’ve come across more recently. Feel free to add the playlist to your favorites! Bill’s Good Stuff Spotify Playlist
Read
For this week’s meditation, I used an excerpt from “The Season of Spring,” a reflection in Edward Hays’ Prayers for a Planetary Pilgrim.
As the sun’s rays strike our planet more directly, the earth responds with newness and freshness. Prehistoric priesthoods set this day apart as sacred, as a feast to celebrate the resurrection of the earth. The sun, radiant and healing, revitalizes the dark and dormant, as days and nights are again of equal length on the day of the equinox. May the eternal experience of spring prepare each of us for a personal rebirth and resurrection. May it be a pledge-sign that life rises out of death.
A true planetary pilgrim experiences this feast not as a spectator but as a concelebrant with the earth and all creation. This day is both holy and magical, filled with hidden spirits and sounds. May your ears, eyes, and nose be attentive to the rebirth of green life pushing up through the earth, even if it is still hidden from view. May you feel in your body the energy of the sun calling for newness and life.
The Ancient Ones danced like children to the mystery of new life and sprouting vegetation. They lit great fires to banish the tired, aged spirits of winter and darkness. They built their bonfires to ward off the half-hidden fears that perhaps this time, this year, winter would not leave and they would die in the barren, icy darkness. With reverence, let yourself be touched by this hidden memory as you respond to the tidal-gravitational tug of the Planet Earth on this feast. Rejoice with all the Web of Life, woven so tightly, as the season of spring begins.
