Revenge in our hearts?

     I’ve been thinking about comments I’ve heard recently that basically come down to, “Because I’ve suffered, you should too.” Or even, "Because WE'VE suffered, you should too."

“Because I had to take that test in order to get into that job/profession/group/activity other people should have to as well.  If they don’t, it’s not fair!” 

“Because I received corporal punishment as a child, I think this next generation of kids should also have corporal punishment.  It didn’t kill me so it won’t kill them!” 

“Because I had to go through several rigid screenings in order to be part of this group, everyone else should as well.” 

"Because we have been hurt, we need to make other people hurt too."

Recently there was a huge controversy that involved one of the ordination exams that was offered this past year.  A scripture was chosen for those studying to become Presbyterian pastors that they needed to translate from original Hebrew, do an extensive biblical study on, and then create a congregational bible study from that passage.  This is a part of every exegesis ordination exam that every Presbyterian pastor must take to be ordained in our denomination.  The scripture they picked this last year, though, was one that could have been considered deeply traumatic for many.  It was Judges 19 in which a Levite’s concubine was gang-raped, murdered and dismembered.  Survivors of sexual assault were outraged at the insistence that they be required to study and write about this passage and basically called the committee’s choice that they handle such a passage a form of “hazing”.  Without going too far into the controversy, I found it interesting that one of the arguments for continuing with this passage again came back to the “well we had to look at hard passages to become pastors, so they should too.”  The use of the word “hazing” to describe the exam also backs this idea.  Those who are hazed remember what they had to do in order to “join the club” or the fraternity and they feel it is, therefore, only fair that those who follow should also have to suffer as they did. 

While these examples take many forms and have been said in many differing situations, they all come back to that same thing: I suffered, so others should too.

               This is very problematic.  While I have written about this for my congregation, I wanted to say something more about this using words that are not as "churchy" because, while I think this is especially problematic for people of faith, I also believe it is simply problematic just because as human beings, we should be striving to do better.  Every single day there are so many good things that come to us that we did not earn or deserve.  And there are so many gifts that come our way that we can take no credit for at all. On a small scale, how many times have you gone over the speed limit, or failed to use your turn signal but have not been given a ticket?  How many times have you made a mistake such as talking behind someone’s back, exaggerating a story in a way that you knew would be hurtful to those you spoke about, or were cranky with someone you valued in a way that could have ended the relationship, only to have the experience of finding that those mistakes have not led to the terrible consequences which could have followed?  How often have we experienced being forgiven for the harsh words, or loved beyond the mistakes? 

         In the bigger picture, did you do anything that earned you where you were born?  Did you do anything to have been born into a family that had enough resources to feed you, to house you, to educate you?  Did you do anything to deserve classes and lessons and friends and family who have been kind and loving?  Did you do anything to deserve going on family vacations or trips to the park or zoo or circus as a kid?  How many times have you just barely scraped by on an exam or in some other way and experienced others simply being kind because they could be?  

       But as a people we don’t tend to focus or remember the times we've experienced such beauty or kindness or grace nearly as intensely or as often as we focus on and remember what we consider an injustice to ourselves.  And as a result, we fail then to find the gratitude to extend that grace to those around us, but instead insist that because we suffered, others should too.  And while this may be very human, "an eye for an eye leaves the whole world blind."  We need to do better.  We need to focus less on revenge and on the idea that because I have suffered, you should too, and instead choose more often that because I've been gifted in so very many ways in this lifetime, I will extend those gifts and that grace to you as well.  

     We have the power to create a kinder, gentler world.  And it doesn't take much to move from "it's not fair!" to "How can I help?  What can I do to make your world a tiny bit better?"  My hope is that we could all try to move in that direction, one step at a time.

You Are What You See

               "You are what you see."  This is a quote that I was told came originally from Thick Nhat Hanh but as I tried to clarify this online, it seems many people have said this, and with good reason.  Psychologists say that what we internalize through life, media or other parts of life can deeply affect who we are, what we believe, and how we function in this life time.  I read an article in Psychology Today that named the deep effects on a person's psyche of watching too much negative news.  Watching negative news can lessen our sense of joy, increase anxiety, and lead to deep depression. Similarly, there are numerous studies that show watching too much violent TV or engaging in violent video games encourages children and adults to act out that violence in their lives.  Considering how much time people spend watching violent TV or playing violent video games, is the increasing rage and violence in our country surprising?

           There is a common misperception that if you are feeling angry, you can dispel those feelings by acting out violence towards non-human targets (punching bags, pillows, shooting images through a video game).  In fact, the opposite has been found to be true.  Once you begin to act out violence towards ANYTHING, the possibility of becoming violent towards the living beings around you increases. That is a consistent finding.  Psychologists knew this 40 years ago (I remember learning it in my psychology classes in college) and studies continue to bear out this finding, yet people still claim they are "getting OUT their anger" through violence when instead their behaviors increase those feelings and violent tendencies. When we see, feel, hear or act out violence, even if it is aimed at inanimate or video objects, we increase the violence of our own beings and our own tendencies to harm others.

            This also manifests in what news we watch.  While we choose our news channels based on our beliefs, at the same time it becomes circular in that the stories we hear and see reinforce and tend to cement us into the beliefs we already had.  They make us who we are as much as we choose them because of who we are.

            Still, today I heard the phrase, "you are what you see" differently.  While I believe that what we see, what we engage with our eyes, our ears and our actions (such as playing violent video games) does change how we interact with the world, I also heard and understood this phrase at a deeper level.  We have choices about how we see the events around us.  We make decisions about how we interpret events.  As I have shared before, I knew someone who regularly said that every action of every person was a play for power.  I don't agree with her that this is true of everyone.  I do see that it is true of her own behaviors.  She projected onto the world her own internal reality.  She chose to see the world through the lens of others' playing for power and as a result, this "sight" of hers effected everything that she did as well and encouraged her choices to continue to be plays for power. 

    I am very close to a few people who have a condition that is a common part of ADHD called Rejection Sensitivity Dysphoria.  Rejection Sensitivity Dysphoria affects the way in which they see the world in that they experience perceived slights as rejection.  This may sound familiar to some of you who may experience this in your own lives as well.  Rejection Sensitivity Dysphoria means that if someone forgot to invite you to something, or didn't look at you while they were speaking, or said something in a way that could have been perceived as a slight, even if that was never the intention, you assume you are being rejected, you assume you aren't liked and aren't valued.  While this is a common part of ADHD, there is still some choice in this.  There are activities that encourage those with this condition to consider other possibilities for the behavior they saw as rejection.  If these activities are practiced with regularity, they can change the way the person sees and interacts with the world.  

       Another example: Once a person starts seeing the world as divided into "good" and "bad" it is easy to see that mirrored in the world.  By "easy," I mean just that.  Considering why a person or group of people behave in a certain way takes effort, it takes work to refrain from casting certain people or groups of people as "bad guys."  It also usually means a person has to be more self-reflective and look at their contributions to the negative behaviors in the world, and that can be very painful.  But that effort, that work is deeply worthwhile as we strive to heal the world, bring peace to the world, create a better world, and become more whole people ourselves.

       What do we choose to engage in with our eyes, our ears, our time?  Do we choose to invite into our beings the violence that is so prevalent on TV or in video games, or even in the news?  Do we try to balance the negative news we hear with positive news, reminding ourselves that there still is good in humanity and in the world?  (Because that is the solution here: ignoring the news is not a good option.  Choosing to balance it out with positive stories is more effective as well as healthier.) But more, how do we choose to see the world?  And can we choose to see with eyes of grace, compassion and love?  If we make that choice, how will our behaviors, and our very souls be impacted and effected?  I believe this choice would change each of us, and in doing so, has the potential to change the world for the better.  

Longing for Childhood

    Today as I sat in my office and heard one of the kids in our children's center crying his eyes out, I realized that there are things I really miss about being a child.  Okay, yes, I realize that sounds odd: I'm hearing a child crying and I'm missing childhood.  But at the moment that I had that realization, I truly wished I could have been crying my eyes out too.  There are too many moving parts in my life right now and expenses piling up this month that are deeply worrying.  I have felt like I can't draw breath over the last few days because of all the many different things that have demanded my attention: sick kids needing to go to urgent care, the car breaking down again, the cat also needing to go to the cat eye doctor (an hour's drive away) for possible melanoma of the eye, helpers hired for a problem with our backyard who need to be supervised and paid, window shades and material for drapes needing to be bought to block out the intense heat that's been making our kitchen and family room into a sauna, people in my circle of influence being hurt and offended who need consolation, compassion and perhaps a different understanding of comments and events, issues at Presbytery that need addressing yesterday, trips out to the airport and even an overnight "step away" that just went wrong as well as my regular work...And all of this hit at once.  

    As I sat listening today to the boy crying I thought, I want to be able to do that.  I don't want to have to be responsible in every single moment, following the rules and expectations when I just would rather be having a temper tantrum and hoping someone like the teacher outside with the crying boy was there to hold and comfort me.  

    I miss other things from childhood too: daily nap time, snack times that don't add pounds to one's body, the tiny squabbles that erupt from concerns no bigger than who gets to play with what toy in this moment rather than over how to pay the bills.  I miss being able to just be whoever I am, and say whatever crosses my mind rather than needing to be thoughtful and intentional about saying the right thing in the right way.  It's exhausting striving always to live up to others' expectations as well as my own.  I miss being able to just BE. 

    Don't you feel that way at times too?

    I found myself saying to my kids today that I look forward to retirement because at that point I'm just going to say what I want to say and act how I want to act, but I know it's not true.  That time of being exactly who we are and saying exactly what we want to say has passed.  It was a gift we didn't recognize we had when we had it, and now it is gone.  I care too much about what other people think and feel to be able to return to that obliviousness or carelessness.  I don't ever want to be someone who is thoughtless in the face of other's potential pain, so I won't choose that, ever.

    But the reflection today did give me two gifts.

     First, it caused me to think about what gifts I currently have that I take for granted and will miss at a later time.  One of those is having meaningful work.  I need to be more appreciative of this time when I can and do work.  Another is a functioning body that allows me to exercise and move in the ways I want.  I also still have a sharp mind, and that too may not be permanent.  I need to pause and remember that these gifts, like all gifts, are temporary and fleeting.  I need to appreciate them now.

    Second, I found myself thinking about how to reclaim some of those things that I am missing from childhood.  How can I express myself more honestly, but in a way that is not damaging or hurtful to others?  Can I take five minutes to cry my eyes out before returning to my work, just to give myself permission to have those feelings and to express them?  How can I create room for my needs as well as the many pressing needs of my family, work and friends?  How can I create some space to step back and breathe?  

    Each age has different gifts.  Recognizing them now can be a gift in itself.  Recognizing them in hindsight can give us insights into what is missing from our current lives that call us to change, to try something different, to adjust.  My yearning today for those earlier, easier times of childhood was a bit of a wake-up call to make some adjustments in my life.  What are your yearnings and longings saying to you?

Media Honesty

            As a country we are struggling with polarization.  Part of that has to do with what media we listen to, what media we believe to be telling us the truth.  And while I definitely have strong opinions about what media I believe is the most accurate and honest, I'm coming to feel that even the sources I believe to be reliable are questionable.  

          For example, I shared in another blog about what had happened at my youngest daughter's high school.  30 kids on the night of their graduation went to the campus and vandalized it with hate speech graffiti as well as damage to buildings using things like firecrackers.  I understand they have been arrested and are waiting sentencing.  I learned about this through letters from the school informing all parents of the class of 2023 that the entire class is now banned from the campus permanently.  They informed us immediately after the event that the senior trip was canceled, though later, when the 30 kids were caught, those who were "cleared" of culpability were still allowed to go on their trip.  In the span of 24 hours we received half a dozen emails letting us know what had happened and what the consequences were going to be.  

        But despite the large amount of vandalism and damage, there was not one word of this event in the local media.  Not one word.  Why?  Well, apparently the charter school they attend is afraid of losing their credentialing so they were able to keep the information out of the media in an effort to preserve good public opinion of the campus.  At another local school another hate crime incident received a great deal of coverage about what had happened on their campus.  But my daughter's school, which tends to be slightly more affluent, and to have many prominent and wealthy members of the community as parents, was able to put the lid on information going out to the larger community.  

      This event alone causes me to question what we hear in the news.  When the affluent and powerful voices are the ones who determine what makes it into the news and what does not, then everything we hear is skewed towards the rich and powerful.  Where are the voices of those who were hurt by the homophobic and racist slurs painted on the campus?  And more, what else are we failing to hear because it is about damage done to those we don't value as much, don't see as often, don't care about as deeply?  

       I know there is still valuable information in the news stories that are out.  But I will tell you honestly that I canceled my news subscriptions after this last event of media suppression.  As a person of faith, I am called to hear the voices that are being silenced, to uplift the oppressed, to focus my care on the "least of these" who are being harmed, ignored, and made invisible through our cultural practices.  If my local media does not lift up those voices as a priority, then I am not interested in supporting what they share.  It breaks my heart because I always thought media was supposed to be about exactly this: giving voice to those things we would not otherwise hear.  Instead it appears to be another cog in the wheel of a society that bows down before wealth and fame while ignoring the cries of the poor.  I do not choose to be part of that.  

A Moment of Kindness??

     Last week I was walking with the two young adults who are currently at home.  We were stopped at the corner of a busy intersection waiting for the light to change, when a car full of teenagers also stopped at the light.  One of the young men in the back seat of the car called out to us, "Hello!"  

    I said "Hello," in response.  

    He then said, "You're beautiful!" to which I responded, "Thank you.  So are you!" and then the light changed and we all moved on.

    My youngest turned to me and said, "Mom, he was being sarcastic and mean."  

    I said, "How do you know that?"

    "I know it because he is the same age as the kids at my school and that's how they are."

    Hm.  Perhaps my daughter did not believe a teenage boy could possibly think I was beautiful. Perhaps the boy was referring to my two kids when he said, "you are beautiful," in which case, the "thank you" still held for me: "thank you for seeing the beauty in my progeny."  Still, I would be lying if I said that the same thought that maybe he was just being sarcastic and mean had not crossed my mind as well.  Perhaps when they drove off they all had a good laugh.  Maybe. But several things occur to me.  

    First of all, we can't paint everyone, including boys of a certain age, with the same brush.  It isn't healthy for us to stereotype or prejudge others.  Assuming others' motives is not helpful for anyone.  

    Secondly, once again I had a choice about how to see or frame this situation.  I could have chosen to be hurt by his "meanness."  I could have chosen to discount him as "just a kid being unkind because that's what boys of a certain age do when they are with their friends."  Or I could choose, as I did, to be bolstered and uplifted by the kind words of a stranger.  There is a wise 12-step saying, "It's none of my business what you think of me."  What is my business is how I am treated and how I choose to respond to the treatment that comes my way.  I choose to take kindness at face-value and to appreciate those moments when good is offered by strangers, whatever the thinking behind it might be.

    Finally, I was saddened by my youngest child's cynical view of the world.  I asked her, "So, are all your friends at school mean like that?"

    "Well, no," she said.

    "Then why would you assume that these kids were being mean?"

    "Well, my friends would not have said anything to a stranger."

    "Then that is their loss, isn't it?  If you have an opportunity for kindness, I would hope that you and your friends would take it, even if that moment of kindness is being offered to a stranger."

    I am troubled by this conversation.  Are we raising cynical children who expect unkindness, maybe especially from their peers?  Perhaps her expectation protects her when cruelty comes.  But also, sometimes people rise to the level of expectation.  And if we expect our teenage boys, in particular, to be cruel won't that expectation inevitably encourage them to be just that?  What if, instead, we expected them to be polite, respectful, to go the extra mile to be kind?  

    As I have often said, I believe we tend to project out onto others our own thoughts, feelings and behaviors.  So my conversation with Youngest continues.  I want her to take the opportunities to uplift all those around her, even strangers.  Perhaps if it were habitual in her own behavior, she would not be so cynical about expecting others to behave in the same way.  

    My youngest may be right and again, the boy in the car may have been having a laugh at my expense.  But I do not choose to be brought down by that.  Instead, I choose to take in the words, "You are beautiful" from a stranger and to pass them back, "So are you!"  It made my day brighter, regardless of my daughter's interpretation.  

Becoming more whole - only when we have to

          In the movie, The Family Man, the main character is given the opportunity to see what his life would be like if he had made different choices.  In his real life, Jack is CEO of a prominant company and Alan, who works under Jack, is timid, unsure, unable to make any decisions without Jack holding his hand.  In Jack's "glimpse" into a different life, Alan is the CEO.  As the CEO, Alan is a man of strength and of courage.  He stands up for what he needs and does not hesitate to make decisions or to fight for them.  When Jack eventually returns to his real life and meets up once again with the timid, unsure Alan, he makes the comment, "Somewhere inside of you there's a much more assertive person."

         In my own life, if I had not been put in a position where I was forced to be in charge of... well of everything, I, too, would not have stepped into that position.  I was comfortable being an associate pastor and later, a co-pastor, not wanting to make the hard decisions.  In my family, while it looked like I was the alpha, the big decisions, all of them, were made by my husband.  He decided when and where we should live, what schools our kids should attend, when we moved out of state and even what jobs we had.  He wasn't domineering. I just was more comfortable having someone else make those decisions.  I didn't trust my own voice, I didn't trust my ability to choose well.  But along with that beta position in my own life came a sense of inferiority, of incompetence, and frankly of deep insecurity.  Being forced into a position where I raised my kids alone, worked as the sole pastor of a congregation and the lone income provider for my family, being the only adult who had to make every decision for the family: while the transition was difficult, it also helped me to grow in my own strength, my own abilities, and ultimately, my own sense of wholeness, happiness and well-being. Additionally, I learned how to do things.  I learned how to mow the lawn, how to do small repairs in my own home, how to invest money.  Before, it had been simpler not to learn these abilities.  But I am grateful I now have them. While I never would have chosen what we lived through, the deep truth is that I would not be half the person I am today without having survived it, and thrived through it.

       I look around and I wonder what certain people could be if their lives forced them to step up.  More, I've been thinking about how we sometimes enable people to be lesser versions of themselves through our care for them.  When we make all the decisions, are we disempowering others to make their own choices?  When we take charge of certain aspects of another's life, are we disempowering them from being able to take charge of those aspects themselves?  When we stand up for one another, are we disempowering them from standing up for themselves?  

       No, this is not a political argument against aid.  I believe there are universal rights people have: the right to clean water, food, shelter, healthcare, education.  All people should have these, and there are  people who absolutely need help. You cannot teach a person to fish who is so hungry they can't hold the rod or net.  But aid would undoubtedly be more empowering if we were to also teach, and more, to help folk make the connections they need to get the work they often want.  

      While sometimes we are thrown headfirst into needing to take more control of our lives, it is easier if we are gradually empowered to grow.  With our children, they are given more responsibilities as they grow up.  If a person is not used to making decisions or doing things for themselves, easing into those behaviors is certainly better than being thrown headlong into the deep end.  Also, I believe we can support one another in ways that do not take away another's opportunity to make decisions, stand up for themself or learn a new skill.  But these take thought.

        There is a Murdock Mysteries episode where Murdock's wife was arguing with their boss about her right to do something.  She turned to Murdock expecting him to defend her, but he did not.  Afterwards she confronted him angrily that he had not stood up for her.  But his response was, "You did not need me to do that for you!  I knew that you were a strong enough woman that you did not need to be ‘rescued’ or ‘saved’ by the big powerful man.   If I had jumped in, the police chief never would have come to respect YOUR strength and your ability to speak for yourself as a full human being.” 

        I wonder how often we think we are rescuing or helping someone when in fact we are disempowering them from becoming the best, most whole people they could be.  

Guilt and Change

       After all these years, I still make a lot of mistakes.  Within the last two months I've made two errors that I felt were rather large in my role as Co-Moderator of SF Presbytery.  The first one happened at a Presbytery meeting that went 3 hours longer than planned.  We have a number of minister and elder members of our Presbytery for whom English is not their first language.  Since the meeting was going so long, it was suggested that the translators be dismissed and I allowed the meeting to continue without translation.  I never should have done that.  My worry about the exhaustion of the translators does not excuse my failure to think of those for whom the meeting was no longer accessible once they did not have translation.  But when another pastor took the time to lovingly but clearly point out the error, I saw it. I apologized to the Presbytery, I learned from the mistake.  We are now working on a policy that will make sure such an error does not easily happen again.  We were able to take a mistake and bring some insight and change from it.

          Yesterday I made another such mistake.  I was officiating at an ordination of a pastor in a truly multicultural congregation.  And, as I do, I was talking extemporaneously about how connected we all are.  I used a word I often associate with that, Ubuntu, which I have understood to mean, "I am because we are."  I was immediately corrected, by someone from South Africa, whom I believed was upset that I had used the word and used it incorrectly.  And suddenly I realized that I had once again erred.  It is not my place to be using or defining terms for people who actually speak the language and are from the culture that uses the word I was attempting to use. Being called out in front of the congregation had enough of an impact on me that I left immediately after the service out of a sense of shame.  I didn't sleep last night, feeling that I had failed again in a major way.  My nighttime inner critic kept yelling at me that I really needed to just stop opening my mouth, because when I do, I make mistakes, some that I can't fix as easily as others.  This, for example, was a mistake that will be harder to correct since there were people from numerous communities attending the service.  

    I could go several places from here.  

    I could talk about Professor Loretta Ross and her teaching at Smith College on the subject of effective conversations.  She says that we need to stop being a "call out" and "cancel" culture.  These ways of approaching one another tend to tear us apart and shut us down rather than building communities of reconciliation, growth and belonging across our differences. We sabotage our happiness with anger and create barriers between people that do not need to be there.  Dr. Ross encourages, instead, a "call in" culture where we invite one another into relationships, into conversation, into learning and healing. In both of the situations I described above, what the confronters said was absolutely true and it is not in any way their responsibility to take care of me or my feelings.  I was at fault in both situations. And I choose to grow from both situations.  I choose to learn, and I will work to do better, to not "co-opt" language, for example. Still, the impact of the way each approached the situation carried the potential for very different responses. Neither response was wrong.  But one had greater potential for doing good and for moving towards reconciliation and healing. 

    I could also talk about how we move from that place of shame into a space of grace.  It was helpful to me after the first error to write the letter to the Presbytery.  I could take an active step towards owning my mistake, and could be part of the solution, to try to make sure a policy was developed in the Presbytery for when meetings go too long for our translators.  I could also work to make sure the documents we write (such as my letter) are translated appropriately.  I am still thinking through how to deal with my mistake from yesterday.  But when I see ways to step forward (probably starting with another letter), I will do so.  These actions help us to name the mistake, ask for forgiveness, step into repairing, reconciling, and growing.  They help us to claim the grace that is always offered. We can do so by recognizing our own movement and decisions to respond to the world with creative but important action.  If we respond instead with self-judgment and condemnation, we are often left paralyzed.    

    I could talk about how intentionally studying racism in the United States with my congregation for the last three years has not prevented me from making these mistakes and then name the reality that the systems we live within are so insidious that even when I am daily reading, studying, and learning, that next step of being intentional about removing my own complicity in the system will take a lot more work. I've lived like this over 50 years. Changing behavior will take time.  

    I could write about how in many ways we have not moved much as a country.  This last weekend my daughter graduated from high school.  Over 30 kids from her graduating class then went to her high school and vandalized it with racial slurs, homophobic graffiti and other signs of hate and anger.  They don't learn these behaviors in a vacuum.  Their behavior was a mirror reflecting the communities and families in which they've been raised.  I found it deeply disturbing.  It broke my heart to know that kind of hate and anger was acted out by so many young people right here in this community.  It should not have surprised me.  With all the reading we've been doing, it just plain shouldn't surprise me.  But I was hit hard.

      But where I think I really want to go with this is into a deeper conversation about how we use the unpleasant feelings that arise for us.  Do we allow the feelings of guilt or shame to keep us up at night?  Or do we take our mistakes and seek out creative ways to learn from them, make amends to anyone we've hurt, and move forward?  Feelings are a gift.  Or they can be, if we use them well.  But if we allow our anger to cause us to hurt others (or continue to hurt ourselves), or if we allow our shame to keep us from living in healthy ways, we are misusing the gifts.  Our feelings can become oppressive if we choose to let them.  

       Almost everything in this life can be used for good or for harm.  Even our feelings and thoughts.  But we have a choice in this, like everything else in life.  I invite us to step back from those strong feelings and make choices to see them differently, to engage with them differently, and to find the gifts in the pain to use for the good of all.

Anger and Hate

     Years ago I had someone come to me for pastoral care and counseling who was in a great deal of pain.  She told me that she had been the victim of a predator, someone who found her in a time and situation of crisis or trauma and, in the guise of offering care, took advantage of her.  When she finally found the strength to end the predatorial and abusive relationship, the predator sought revenge by turning others she cared about against her.  Because the predator was a charming and likeable person, no one even asked for her side of the story.  It seems people mistakenly believed that the one doing the talking must be the one telling the truth, when instead, he was doing the talking because he was trying to preemptively spread his lies before the truth could come out. She became a pariah as the people around her chose to believe the person they preferred without ever asking her side or seeking her truth in what had occurred.  She was thereby victimized twice by the predator: first by the initial relationship, and second by the damage to her other relationships. She told me that she had come to see the predator as evil, and she hated him with a white hot hate that did not seem to fade with time.  She told me she had never known hate before this event, but now it seemed to consume her and she did not know what to do.  

    She came to me seeking help.  As a pastor, couldn't I tell her how to let go of the anger?  The hate?  Couldn't I help her to figure out how to forgive so that the rage and abhorrence would no longer wrack her body and spirit in a way that seemed to poison everything in her life?  

    I passed along the tools that I had: Pray for the ones with whom you are angry the same good things you would want for yourself.  Talk to God.  Journal.  Distract from your anger by focusing on the beautiful things in this life.  Keep a gratitude journal.  Surround yourself with people who will care enough to talk to you when they have questions or are hearing gossip about you.  Choose friends who will be open with you and will believe what you say to them.  Surround yourself with people who understand about predatory relationships, the deep damage they do, the abuse they infict, and the ways they manifest. Meditate.  Exercise. Eat healthy foods. Practice self-affirmations. Reframe your experiences as growing and learning experiences. 

    I don't know if any of those tools helped her in the long run.  In the short run I believe they were inadequate.  She was truly consumed by her anger and hatred, and those feelings were damaging her to a greater degree even than the original predatorial damage.  What she had experienced as harm was real.  But the daily re-living of that damage did more to hurt her.  And while she knew this intellectually, she could not let go of that anger.  She knew she was allowing the predator to continue to victimize her through her feelings, but she could not let them go.

       As I look back, I realize that I had missed an important step with her.  I've said before that I am a firm believer that we have to go through our grief and pain to come out on the other side.  Stuffing feelings down means they usually manifest in unhelpful ways and they don't resolve.  What I had failed to name was that anger is a secondary emotion.  Hate is often a further step removed and is a tertiary emotion that follows anger.  Both ultimately mask grief and fear.  It feels more powerful to be angry or to hate, so we often move to those feelings when we don't want (or don't have the strength) to feel those more genuine but more vulnerable feelings of sadness and fear.  Until we deal, truly and honestly, with those deeper feelings, we will stay stuck in the anger.

     Personally, I don't want to be an angry or hateful person.  So I write this as a reminder to myself, as I reflect back on my parishioner's experience, that letting these feelings pass through us is essential for our own well-being and wholeness.  Not always easy, especially when you've been deeply harmed, but necessary.  When someone hurts us, it is often our own feelings that do more damage than the other person could ever do.  And while working through those feelings is not easy, it is life-giving to do so.

Raising Teenagers, or Becoming an Adult

          I now officially have three young adults, ages 22, 20 and 18 as offspring.  While that seems to mean that there is really only one "teen" left in our family, my experience of all three is that they are still teenagers.  One of the ways this is true is that they are all still "pushing" up against me on a regular basis.  They test boundaries, they say things that I am sure have no purpose other than to upset me, they are making choices that seem to be focused primarily on being different from what I would do or would choose for them.  This is the job of being a teenager: to differentiate, to discover, to figure out who they are on their own, apart from the wishes, expectations or beliefs of their parents.  Each one of my three does this differently, but they are all actively engaged in it.  

       This week one of my kids informed me that I did not need to know their summer plans because they are handling it on their own and don't need my "help."  I tried to explain that I wasn't asking about summer plans because I wanted to control them, but so that I could make my own plans around any possibility of seeing them this summer, but this did not inspire more communication or information from said young person.  This same kid also informed me that I needed to stop asking about their friendships or other relationships because it was none of my business.  Ouch.

      Another one of my kids informed me that they did not need to be "pulled into my work," and they resented it when they had to "help" me by being present with my work in any way.  I pointed out that since they are working and yet not paying any rent, that perhaps their attendance at certain events (Easter Sunday?) could be seen as "rent" or contribution to the family, doing their part.  They said they'd rather pay rent.

      The third child, after being gone on a trip for almost a week, was rude and snippy when I picked her up at the airport, informing me that she didn't "need" to talk to me about her trip, and that she was not in the mood to answer any questions.  When we got home, she stomped off to her room, slammed the door and I haven't seen her since.  

       The subtitle of this particular blog post is "becoming an adult."  The one, though, who is being called to become an adult in all of this is me.  My kids are doing what they need to do to differentiate, to discover, to become who they need to be.  I know this.  I see it.  But I'll be honest and say that it is difficult for me to respond to this behavior in an adult way.  I want to respond by slamming MY door, by saying, "Fine.  If I am just a punching bag and a bank to you, this bank is going to start requiring something back to justify my paying for all of your fun and educational opportunities. I require you to be kind to me.  I require you to answer my questions.  I require you to be decent human beings to your mother!  If you can't do it, the bank is closed!"  But threatening, being nasty in kind: these are not adult behaviors.  It would be better if I could just say, "I am feeling hurt by the way you are speaking to me.  I would prefer it if you would choose a different tone of voice or different method of communication."  Being an adult means choosing not to threaten, choosing not to slam out and act out, choosing not to hit back when punched.  Being an adult means not moving into giving the silent treatment or becoming verbally aggressive in turn.  But boy, is this hard!

     You'd think that, at the age of 55, I would have learned by now how to be an adult.  But in so many ways, I feel my kids are pushing me to grow up in ways that are hard, painful, and sometimes feel beyond my abilities.  They are holding up a mirror for me, showing me that I have so much more work to do, so much more growing still to do.  

     I am grateful for the chances to continue to grow up, to continue to work on becoming the person I hope to be.  I am choosing to reframe their attitudes towards me as learning opportunities for myself.  We are all on a journey.  We can all choose how to see it and how to respond to it.  My hope is to grow and learn, to become an adult, even as they, too are becoming adults. We are in this together.  And in that realization I find comfort and hope.