The Privilege of Indifference

In the 2005 film V for Vendetta, in the not-to-distant future, England has become a police state run by a fascist government.  The people, for the most part, live pretty regular lives so long as they stay in line, but there's a undercurrent of fear that permeates the film and adds a layer of tension that keeps the viewer on the edge of their seat even during the most benign scenes.  You see hints of this fear here and there.  Pasted on the walls of a normal London street are signs reminding citizens that their strength is in their unity, and their unity comes from a common faith.  Hanging on the wall of a retirement home is a picture of the country's High Chancellor, prominently on display, like so many dictators before him, to remind the people who controls them.  The fear is subtle, and it's only the viewer who seems to recognize it, as so many of the characters seem numb to it.  But it's a very real fear.  A fear of what will happen should anyone step out of line.  Of secret police patrolling the streets at night, enforcing the government's curfew in brutal ways.  Of a message of unity, but a unity built on sameness of faith, sexual orientation, ethnicity, and nationality.  There is no room for error in this world.  No room for difference.  There is only obey, or face the consequences.

Enter V, a masked vigilante whose sole mission in life is to bring the government to its knees by inspiring a revolution among the people.  He has no identity apart from the Guy Fawkes mask and black clothing he always wears.  In one of the movie's earlier scenes, V commandeers the government-sponsored emergency channel to broadcast a message to all of London at once.

In his speech, he says what everyone knows but are too afraid to admit: "...there is something terribly wrong with this country, isn't there?"

He talks about how the people have lost their freedom to express themselves and object.  How intolerance, injustice, and oppression have come to be the norms of their society.  He poses the questions "How did this happen?  Who's to blame?", and while there are officials and politicians and those in power who had worked to create the systems that rule England's dystopian future, it isn't all on them.

"If you're looking for the guilty, you need only look into a mirror."

For all the terrible things that the government has done in V's world, it's ultimately the people who stood by and let it happen.

"I know why you did it.  I know you were afraid.  Who wouldn't be? War, terror, disease.  There are a myriad of problems which conspired to corrupt your reason and rob you of your common sense.  Fear got the best of you..."

Fear.  Fear is what drove the people to put those who would come to cause so much harm into power.  Fear got them there.  And then indifference kept them there.

In the movie, V is battling against the people's indifference to what is happening around them as much as he is battling the fascist government ruling them.  His call to revolution isn't merely a strike at the government, but an attempt to rouse the passions of the people.  To wake them up to the truly terrible things that are happening around them so that they will rise up and fight to regain their freedoms.

The thing that always scared me the most about V for Vendetta was how realistic that future was.  How very possible that outcome seemed.

Now, it seems like the very path we're heading down.

So much has happened since Trump became President.  Already he's attacked the media, put our national parks at risk, angered our allies, given our enemies justification in their hatred of us, cut off necessary healthcare to women worldwide, put thousands of innocent people seeking refuge from their war torn homes at risk, torn families apart, given power to the dangerously inexperienced, and proven again and again he's a liar who cannot be trusted.  It's been so much in such a short amount of time, that it's truly exhausting.

I've written letters, made phone calls, gone to rallies, spoken with representatives, attended forums, and posted every speck of truth I can get my hands on.  Yet nothing ever seems to come from any of it.  Most of our politicians who oppose Trump up until now have appeared overly cautious, and the rest don't seem to care about what the people actually have to say.  As Trump issued more and more orders, and our Congress stood by and watched, it all seemed hopeless.  So pointless.

In my lowest moment, I'm ashamed to admit, I thought to myself, "What does it matter if I resist or not?"  I was stressed and not sleeping well.  My mind was overly consumed with what was going on in the world around me.  I was afraid I was becoming annoying and preachy because I wasn't letting up in my outspokenness against the President.  "Why go through all the trouble?  Why put myself through this stress?  I could just stop.  I could just ignore it all.  It's not like any of this really affects me..."

And then I realized what was happening.  I was giving into one of my greatest privileges.

Indifference.

It's true, a lot of what's happening won't directly affect me.  I'm a white Christian with a good job, insurance, and tons of people to support me in case something goes wrong.  I'm not an immigrant, I'm not a refugee.  I support Planned Parenthood, but I don't personally need it.  I'm straight and will have no problem someday getting married.  I haven't had to fight every day of my life for basic respect and recognition as a person.  When I get pulled over, my only worry is how much the ticket will be.  I've never been wealthy, but I've never had to worry about being able to eat a meal or having weather-appropriate clothes when I need them.  I can afford to buy tampons and pads, and have never had to choose between them and food.  As a kid, I never had to worry about whether my parents would be home when I was out of school, or if they'd been taken during an ICE raid.  I don't have to worry about being treated differently if I move to certain neighborhoods, or of being seen as "other" simply because of how I look, dress, or pray.  The fear of a bomb dropping on my home at any moment is not my constant reality.

I am very privileged, and most of my privilege comes from pure luck.  I was lucky to be born into the life I lead.  I was lucky that opportunities were more easily provided to me than to others.  I've worked hard to get where I am, but I know that under that hard work is a foundation of privilege that has propelled me further in life than those who started without it.

I also know that many of the privileges I take for granted today came at a price I never had to pay, because others paid it for me.

Once upon a time, my Irish heritage would have made me an outsider.  I would have been seen as "other".  I would have faced open hostility and socially accepted discrimination.  I would have been seen as an invader, an unwelcome immigrant encroaching on the American people's rights and privileges.

At one point, my Catholic faith would have made people suspicious of me.  My faith would have been considered a threat, a looming foreign religion that threatened to undermine this country's political systems and beliefs.  I would have been labeled a Papist, loyal to Rome over the U.S., on a mission to overturn Democracy in favor of Papal rule.

Not to long ago, my sex would have barred me from certain roles outside of the home.  I would have been a commodity, something that could be put up for market and sold to the highest bidder.  My husband could have beat me, raped me, insulted me, and it would have been my place to take it.  I would not have been able to have a voice in the political world.  My silence and body would have been valued more so than my mind and voice (unfortunately, this is still the case in a lot of ways).

But it's different for me than it was for those that came before.  Why is this?  Because those that came before didn't have the privilege of indifference.  They had to march, rally, fight, and even die for the basic rights our country is so proud of boasting about.  The rights they fought and worked so hard for are what led to the privileges I am now able to enjoy.

Suffragette's March on Washington, 1913

Women's March on Washington, 2017

Privilege in-and-of-itself isn't necessarily a bad thing.  We can't always control the privileges we're born into.  But we can control how we respond to them.  How we use them.

Do we acknowledge our privileges?  Do we abuse our privileges?  Do we hold our privileges above the rights and well-being of others?

The United States is a country of great privilege, but often we confuse privilege for freedom.  When a marginalized group begins to push back, demanding the freedoms we lucky ones all already enjoy, we get angry and defensive.  We claim they're taking away those freedoms (because for some reason, there's not enough freedom to go around I guess?).  They're taking away our rights.  The truth of the matter is, what is really at stake are our privileges, not our rights.  Many of our privileges depend on the oppression of other groups.

We are privileged simply because we aren't them.

To ignore that fact not only is an injustice to those we exclude from our freedoms, but it spits in the faces of all those who fought for those same freedoms so many of us now take for granted.

Caring about the well-being of others, being willing to sacrifice some of our privilege so that others have a chance to gain any are what we as Americans are supposed to do.  We don't have a great history of following through with this ideal, but it's part of the ideological foundation of this country.  People come here, from all over the world, from all walks of life, because they believe in the promise the United States offers.  The promise of freedom and prosperity.  The promise of life, acceptance, and peace.  These are the promises we so readily advertise to the rest of the world, but seem to always have a hard time living out.

We need to do better.  We need to do more.  We need to care more, and sometimes that means marching, and rallying, and fighting, and annoying your friends on Facebook.  We need to talk to each other more.  Have dialogue instead of arguments.  Uphold the truth, even when it's inconvenient.  Those of us with the privilege of indifference need to recognize that we might have a choice to stand up and speak out against injustice, but so many others don't.  For so many, the fight for their rights is their constant, everyday reality.

We need to hold ourselves accountable.  We need to hold our government accountable, or face the consequences of a powerful few dictating the lives of millions.

As V would say, "People should never be afraid of their governments.  Governments should be afraid of their people."

If we let our own privileges stop us from fighting for those in greatest need, then we are contributing to the very oppression and discrimination so many of our ancestors fought to undo so that our lives might be just a little bit better than theirs.  

Erin B.              

Jesus Christ: A Model of Rebellion

Let's be real.  It's been a heck of a week.  A lot has happened, and a lot of people are feeling a lot of things.  I'm no exception.  I've unintentionally become that person on your social media homepage, constantly posting about politics and only seeming to be in a state of continuous anger.  Well, that's because I am angry, but that's not really why I post so much or speak so openly about my beliefs and opinions.  My goal is not to create fights or insult and undermine people who think differently than me.  My goal is always to inform, to pull the curtain hiding the real wizard back, and to make sure everyone knows exactly what is happening in the world around us.

Last week, I posted a piece explaining how I define pro-life, and why I stand with Planned Parenthood.  I was extremely nervous to post that piece.  I was afraid of what some of my friends and family would think, and how they would react.  I was afraid of the things total strangers could say.  I wasn't afraid that people would disagree with me.  I know people disagree with me about that issue, and that's okay!  What I was most afraid of was that people would try to cut me down and belittle my message without any attempt at actual dialogue or respectful engagement.  Which is why I was pleasantly surprised when the feedback I received was, overall, incredibly positive.

Now, I'm not naive in that I think everyone who read it was 100% on board with what I had to say.  I'm sure there are many people that would tweak a few things here and there.  I'm also sure that there were plenty of individuals who totally disagree with me but simply chose not to comment on the post, and that's totally fine.  I can't, and don't, expect everyone who reads what I write to be in total, or any, agreement with me all of the time.

There were some comments, though, that weren't so positive.  I was accused of not being a good Catholic, not being in good standing with the Church, and of not putting my faith and God first.  Instead of feeling bad like I expected myself to feel, however, or regretting the post, those comments actually made me think a lot about my relationship with the Church and with God.  And I came to a realization.

My faith in God and my obedience to the Church are not the same thing.

Maybe those individuals are right, and I'm not a good Catholic.  Maybe I'm technically not in good standing with the Church.  Ultimately, though, I have to answer to God and my conscience, not the Church.

I love the Church, and I love being Catholic, but I'm not blind to the problems within the institution.  I'm not going to pretend everything is okay all the time.  The Church is a human institution trying to figure out how best to be in relationship with God.  It's going to stumble every once and awhile.  It's going to make mistakes.  It's going to sometimes be stubborn, and controlling, and try to make people fall into neat tidy lines because that's what people do.  We don't just bow down and accept the things we disagree with, especially when those things go against what we feel to be true in our hearts.  We push, we question, we demand accountability.  We live out our Christian faith by demanding that our Church continuously do better and better.  Sometimes, we even outright rebel.

Christianity, like the United States, is built on rebellion.

Our Founding Fathers = Rebels

The rebellion for early Christians was quieter than that of the American Revolution, but it was a rebellion nonetheless.  Threatened by an authority determined to control them, body, mind, and soul, early Christians defiantly gathered together in secret to worship, support each other, and spread their faith.  In the Roman arenas, surrounded by roaring crowds calling for their deaths, they stood by their faith.  They stood by each other.  They wrote to each other in support.  They wrote to each other from exile and from prison.  They continued to spread their message of love and God across the empire despite the risks.  Despite the law.

Because they knew the law was wrong.

They knew there was something beyond it.  Something better.  Something they couldn't fully understand, but were still willing to give their lives to uphold if necessary.  They rebelled, and had they had support from other groups, had greater, easier ways of having their voices heard, they might have rebelled louder.

Early Christians didn't simply decide to rebel because they wanted to, however.  They needed to, and they rebelled by example.  Christianity, at its heart, is a radical religion, because it is based around a radical figure.

Jesus was a rebel.    

I've always found it kind of funny when people justify their mistreatment of others by claiming to be following the teachings of Jesus and Scripture.  They use Jesus' name like a get-out-of-jail-free card for discrimination, bigotry, and hate, disguising their true intentions with the excuse "I'm only trying to save your soul from damnation."  How easily they seem to forget that Jesus dined with outcasts, promised his kingdom to those considered weak, and criticized the wealthy.

Jesus was a radical in his time because he openly defied socially accepted discrimination and oppression.  He pushed back against religious authorities who insisted they alone had the answers to knowing and interacting with God.  He spoke to crowds about radical ideas of what it means to love each other and show each other compassion.  He opened the doors to those previously excluded from salvation.  He knew what he risked in his defiance, in his resistance, but he didn't let that stop him.

He taught his followers to turn the other cheek, and also took up a bull whip, flipped tables, and chased the greedy merchants from the temple.  He showed us that resistance is complicated, it's not always neat and tidy, but it's always necessary when those in authority try to decide who is worthy of salvation and who isn't.  When those with power try to keep the downtrodden low so they can maintain their own privilege.  He showed us that to rebel is sometimes necessary to be truly faithful to God.

To be Christian means to be willing to rebel when human dignity is put at risk.  To resist when groups of people are treated as second-class-citizens, whether or not you believe what they believe, or value what they value.  To hold those in power accountable for their actions when they choose money and greed over the good of the people.  To speak out whenever injustice threatens your fellow human.

We rebel, because like the early Christians, like Jesus himself, we have hope in a world better than this one that is worth fighting for.

Just as Christians are called to feed the hungry, give drink to the thirsty, clothe the naked, and welcome the stranger so too are we called to rebel.  Whether against the oppressive actions of a government, or the excluding teachings of a denomination, we resist, we march, we speak out.  And as long as there is suffering in the world, as long as there are people in need, whose voices have been stolen, and whose dignity is threatened, we won't stop.

We will always rebel.

Until next time,
Erin B.  

I Am A Pro-Life Catholic, and I Stand with Planned Parenthood

Several years ago, I was trying to figure out why in the world Representative Steve King kept getting elected to office.  One answer I received kind of astonished me, and has bothered me ever since.

"He values life, so you know he has good morals."

Don't trust crazy-eyes here.

By that statement, of course, the person meant Steve King is pro-life.  Or, more realistically in the political world, anti-abortion.  It blew my mind that just because he operated off of a pro-life platform, people automatically assume he not only has good morals, but actually values life.  Steve King.  The same man who has proven time and time again that he is a racist bigot who doesn't care what he says or who he hurts so long as he's the loudest voice in the room.

But Steve King isn't the only example of a politician who can hang on to his political power by claiming a pro-life agenda.  We see hundreds of examples of politicians who oppose abortion, citing the need to protect the sanctify of life, but then turn around and support the death penalty, fight gun regulation, cut healthcare to those in need, criminalize immigrants, demonize refugees, slut-shame sexual assault survivors, and work to defund our educational system.  These people are not truly valuing life.  They just know speaking out against abortion is going to get them votes.

I am a Catholic woman, and I consider myself pro-life.  How I define pro-life, however, probably sounds different than the rhetoric you're used to.  I am not politically pro-life.  I do not beat the drum and shout from the mountaintops about the need to protect unborn babies, but then turn my back on and ignore the needs and the sufferings of people once they've entered this world.  If a person claims to be pro-life, but doesn't bother to try to understand the complexities of the human experience, the differing perspectives that color and shape the choices and beliefs of individuals, then they're not really pro-life.  If a person claims to be pro-life, but refuses to acknowledge the sanctity of the environment, ignores the need to protect the planet rather than exploit it, then they're not really pro-life.  To be truly pro-life means to act with compassion towards others, to try and understand the thoughts and beliefs of those different from yourself, to care just as much for the poor and for the immigrant as you do for the unborn.  To be pro-life means to be an advocate for those in need, to be a good steward of the earth, to be a voice for the voiceless and stand up against injustice.  I am pro-life because I care about the lives of all those around me, and I work to make life better for anyone I can.

As a Catholic, pro-life woman, I support Planned Parenthood.  Congress is currently making moves to take away all federal funding for Planned Parenthood.  They claim to be doing this out of a pro-life perspective, in an effort to stop the organization from providing abortions.  The fact of the matter is, it's already against the law for federal money to go towards abortion services.  The Hyde Amendment, which was passed in 1977, makes it illegal for abortions to be paid for by Medicaid, except in the case of rape, incest, or if the mother's life is threatened.  What then would it really mean for Planned Parenthood to have their government funding taken away?  It would mean millions of people, many low-income who rely on government services to afford basic healthcare, would be without such vital services as cancer screenings, treatment for sexually transmitted diseases, access to contraception and safe sex education, prenatal treatments, and pregnancy tests and screenings, just to name a few.  The potential defunding of Planned Parenthood isn't simply an issue of pro-choice vs. anti-choice.  It's a matter of the health and wellness of millions of people vs. the political agendas and manipulations of a privileged few.

There is a great danger in allowing politicians to use morality as an excuse to police and control the personal choices and beliefs of the people they are meant to serve.

In all honesty, though, I stand with Planned Parenthood because I don't care about the politics or moral debates.  I care about people.  I care about the girl seeking judgement free birth control, because her religious upbringing has made her ashamed and scared to talk to her parents about sex.  I care about the single-mother receiving breast exams and care because she can't afford to regularly go anywhere else.  I care about the young pregnant couple, just starting out on their own, who are able to find the prenatal care they need without having to stretch their already tight budget.  I care about the young man seeking treatment for a sexually transmitted disease he didn't know his partner had.  And I care about the young woman who needs a safe place to go for help because she has no where else to turn.

The simple truth is making abortion illegal or harder to acquire isn't going to stop it from happening.  It's just going to make it more dangerous for those who do seek it.  I can understand the conviction those who are staunchly against it have, and their desire to eliminate it as a choice once and for all.  I appreciate the deeply held beliefs many of those people have, and I know that the majority of people who stand against abortion are good people just doing what they believe is right.  I don't see abortion as a good thing, necessarily.  I would like nothing more than to live in a world where abortion is no longer seen as a needed option, but I know making it outright illegal isn't going to accomplish that goal.  It's only a band-aid solution to a host of deeper, more systemic problems in our society.

You want abortion to go away?  Then push for more holistic approaches to safe-sex education that accounts for the emotional responses as well as the bodily ones to sex, and doesn't shy away from the topic of contraception and reproductive healthcare.  Make churches talk more openly about sex as a good given to us by God, and not a shameful, sinful act that we should hide or remain close-mouthed about.  Throw out abstinence-only education and recognize that, ultimately, people are going to make their own choices, follow their own conscience, and if they do have sex outside of marriage, they need to be safe and educated about it.

Start teaching boys and young men not to sexualize girls and woman.  Teach boys not to rape instead of trying to teach girls to not draw attention to themselves.  That only leads to victim-blaming and slut-shaming in the end.  Stop reducing girls and women to their appearance and policing their bodies and dressing choices.  Stop portraying girls as damsels or lesser in strength and value than boys and men, and start recognizing and nurturing their power and tenacity.  Stop thinking that feminism is a bad word, or means anything other than equality among the sexes.

Pro-lifers, don't demonize the women who receive abortions, and start to try and understand the reasons and circumstances surrounding their decision instead.  There are women who choose it freely, but there are many who seek abortions because they simply don't feel like they have any other options.

I care about the defunding of Planned Parenthood because Planned Parenthood is pro-life.  Planned Parenthood is pro-life because pro-life means more than anti-abortion.  It means caring for those in greatest need, sympathizing with those in greatest pain, and showing compassion to those in greatest distress.  It means recognizing that not everyone is going to share your beliefs, but that everyone has a conscience and is able to make choices for themselves.  It means recognizing that, sometimes, we make sacrifices in our own lives so that other people can receive the care and support they need to not only survive, but to thrive.

Ultimately, I stand with Planned Parenthood because I know it's not just about me.  My thoughts, opinions, beliefs, and perspectives are not the only ones that matter in this world.  Just as I wouldn't want anyone to force their beliefs and opinions onto me, I have no right to force my beliefs and opinions onto anyone else.  I can walk with people, I can and should care for people, I can support people, but I can never control people.  And I shouldn't want to.  No one should.  Our government is meant to serve, not to control, and in those times that it does try to step over that line, people of faith, those who are truly pro-life, should be among the first to stand up and push back.  We shouldn't be the ones clearing the way.

Until next time,
Erin B.

P.S. In case you need a little more convincing as to why stepping back and broadening the picture around abortions is important, I highly recommend following this link to watch the video from Last Week Tonight with John Oliver:  Abortion Laws 

https://www.ucsfhealth.org/education/conception_how_it_works/
http://www.businessinsider.com/defunding-planned-parenthood-abortions-donald-trump-congress-paul-ryan-republicans-2017-1

When Art Speaks for the People: A Response to the Aftermath of the "Hamilton" Statement

Art is a unique and often underrated treasure in any society.  For most, we don't visit museums to learn about the economic and political structures of societies past (although some do, don't get me wrong).  We visit museums to see the art that was left behind.  We pay for overpriced tickets to see the Mona Lisa, Michelangelo's David, the ceiling of the Sistine Chapel, and Starry Night.  Throughout history, people have risked their lives to protect art from destruction, from burying Celtic crosses in Ireland during the Reformation, to forming special forces groups (The Monuments Men) in World War II to retrieve and hide artwork from the Nazis.  One of the first things to be criticized, banished, boycotted, or rejected in any society where the government is trying to assert absolute control over its people is art.  Artists are arrested and tortured, books are burned, murals and paintings destroyed, and theater productions shut down or censored because they dare to challenge the status quo.  Why?  Because art, in all its forms - music, painting, sculpture, writing, theater, etc. - is meant to challenge us and make us think.  It's meant to stir a person's deepest emotions, tell a story in a new and striking way, and express the greatest thoughts and concerns of its creator.  Sometimes, art does much more than this.  Sometimes, art is used to raise up the voices of the voiceless, publicly criticize injustice, oppression, and violence, and inspire bravery in those who wish to see the world change for the better.

That is what Hamilton: An American Musical is all about.

From it's conception, Hamilton was always meant to tell the story of America by Americans.  That's why it's creator, Lin-Manuel Miranda, was so intentional about having a diverse cast, and about having diverse forms of music, most prominently rap, which he called "the music of the revolution."  Hamilton's story is one about standing up against oppressive forces that try to control us, and overcoming nearly impossible odds to "take our shot" and "rise up" in order to change the world.  It's an amazing piece of art that has been recognized worldwide as being inventive, challenging, and for telling a story that is just as relevant today as it was in 1776.  It's the story about an immigrant who came to the United States, fought for everything he had, was opposed at nearly ever step along the way, but never quit advancing and doing what he believed was right.  Alexander Hamilton himself was a flawed, hot-headed individual who is not without his critics today, but his story of revolution and the building of a nation for all Americans is one that continues to be lived out in our modern world.

When Hamilton's Broadway cast spoke after their November 18th show to Vice-President elect Mike Pence, they weren't only following the path of artists and artwork before them that spoke the concerns of the people.  They were also living up to the tradition of their namesake, Alexander Hamilton, and the rest of the Founding Fathers.  This is a nation built on protest and revolution, on opposing forces that threaten the well-being of all of its citizens.  So, it was not out-of-line for the cast of Hamilton to raise those concerns to Vice-President elect Pence.  What was out-of-line was for President-elect Trump to demand an apology.  What is out-of-line is all those now calling for a boycott of the show.  What was out-of-line was the individual who interrupted a performance of the Chicago show by shouting profanities and saying "we won, you lost, get over it."

Never mind that the statement by the New York cast was actually quite polite and respectful while at the same time remaining raw and honest about people's concerns.  Never mind that Vice-President elect Mike Pence has said he "wasn't offended" and actually really enjoyed the show.  It's actually not even a fundamentally wrong thing for people to want to boycott the show as a result, because it's their right to do so.  What is most concerning about this whole ordeal is that people do not believe the theater is an appropriate place for that kind of statement.  Trump himself tweeted that "The Theater must always be a safe and special place."  And it should be, but for those at greatest risk in society at large.  The theater, especially a show like Hamilton, is where the loudest critiques of government and society should come from for the very reason it should always be a safe and special place.

Art has always worked to hold those in power accountable for their actions.  We see this displayed in works of graffiti on city walls, in songs protesting acts of war and violence, in stories and poems written to express the fear and pain of the oppressed and subjugated.  When our nation's leaders start criticizing art and try to "keep it in it's place", try to dictate what is appropriate for it to depict, speak to, or act out, we need to be very concerned.  Being a good leader means accepting the criticism of your opposition, hearing the voices of your people most scared, and allowing dialogue to take place whether you like what is said or not.  We are a nation that claims to value freedom of speech, that allows for art to flourish and expand our collective understanding of the world we live in.  When we start trying to silence the art world, however, it's not just the artists that suffer.  We all do, because we are no longer challenged, we are no longer made to think about the world beyond ourselves.  It is the art of our society that will tell our story to future generations, and it is up to us to determine whether it will be a story about people who turned their backs on the injustice and fear surrounding them, or stood up and held those in power accountable, making them answer for their beliefs and actions.  There is a lot of work that must be done in this country, there are a lot of voices, beliefs, and opinions that must be taken into account, but it is through art that those voices, beliefs, and opinions are more widely heard and known.  So, even if you didn't agree with the cast of Hamilton's statement, you need to be ready to protect their right to make it, because someday you might need them to speak on your behalf as well.

Until next time,

Erin

The statement of the Hamilton cast, compliments of Twitter.

You Are My Neighbor - I Love You

I love you.

You are my neighbor, and I love you.

You are my brother, my sister, and I love you.

You are my friend, and I love you.

You are my enemy, and I love you.

I might not know you, but I love you.

I might not always agree with you, but I love you.

I might sometimes hate you, but I love you.

If you're Muslim, I love you.

If you're black, I love you.

If you're LGBTQ, I love you.

If you're an immigrant, I love you.

If you're poor, I love you.

If you're rich, I love you.

If you were born in my country, I love you.

If you're straight, I love you.

If you're white, I love you.

If you're Christian, I love you.

No matter your faith, your race, your orientation, your nationality, your economic status, I love you.

You are my neighbor, and I love you.

I will fight for you.  I will stand with you.  I won't let fear keep me from responding to the pain you face.  I will be your voice when your own is stolen from you.  I will stand up to those who would dismiss your fear and pain.  I will not stop when others tell me it's not my fight, or that it will all be okay.  I will recognize my own privilege, and how I benefit from your suffering, and I will spend my life working to pay you back and make it right, even if I never really can.

I love you.  I acknowledge you.  I see your suffering, and I won't turn away from it.

I will fight with you, if I have to.  I will stand opposite of you if it means protecting others from you.  I won't let fear of losing you keep me from holding you accountable for your beliefs and actions.  I will raise my voice against yours if your words are stealing the dignity and voices others.  I will stand up to you when you try to dismiss their fear and pain.  I will not stop when you tell me it's not my fight, that you're just speaking your mind, and it's not really hurting anybody anyway.  I will recognize my own privilege, and how I benefit from a wide view of the world bolstered by education and experience, and I will spend my life working to help you see the humanity in all of the people you encounter, or don't encounter, throughout this world.

I love you.  I acknowledge you.  I see your fear and suspicions, and I won't let them consume you.

I love you.  I will do whatever I can to make the world better for you.

I love you.  I will do whatever I can to make you better for the world.

You are my neighbor.

You are my friend.

You are my brother.  My sister.  My mother.  My father.

You are my enemy.

I might not know you.

I might not always agree with you.

I might even hate you.

But I will always love you. 

Politicizing Faith: The Real Threat to Our Freedom of Religion

It's no secret that politics and religion tend to be two hot topics that seem to always be intimately entwined with one another in the public eye.  This is especially true here in the United States, where the First Amendment of our Constitution states that "Congress shall make no law respecting an establishment of religion, or prohibiting the free exercise thereof..."  Most people are familiar with this Amendment, and have very strong opinions about it one way or another.  Some use it to argue for the exclusion of all religious expression from any government-associated organization, and others, in all honesty, use it as a way of defending their own attempts to force their religious beliefs on others.

Catholics are no strangers to the almost constant tension between religion and politics.  On the surface-level, the United States Catholic Church seems to try and keep a neutral tone when dealing with politics.  Priests aren't supposed to endorse political candidates or try to sway their congregations one way or another when voting (though some do).  Both the Democratic and Republican party claim to value issues that Catholics themselves are supposed to be concerned for (however, social justice issues seem to always take a backseat to pro-life rhetoric), so technically speaking, a Catholic shouldn't hold allegiance to one party at all times, and should be open to exploring which candidate addresses the issues best that Catholics hold as important.  All very neutral and reasonable sounding...in theory.  In practice, the United States Catholic Church is far from neutral, and much of that has to do with the Bishops, their hard-line outspokenness on certain issues, and their insistence that our religious liberty is under attack.

Many Bishops are loud voices in the political arena, whether they admit it or not.  Here's why they're wrong to be.

Recently, a colleague of mine drew my attention to a blog-post that focused on the ten presidential/vice-presidential candidates for the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops (the winners have been selected, by the way, with Cardinal Daniel DiNardo of Houston-Galveston being elected president and Archbishop José Gomez of Los Angeles elected vice president).  The post was looking at how each of the ten Bishops have approached LGBTQ issues in the past, and, unsurprisingly, most of them didn't have very positive responses in their history (a few, surprisingly, did).  Many Bishops in the United States have been criticized for not embracing Pope Francis' more pastoral vision of the Church, which includes acknowledging the human dignity for people who identify as LGBTQ and ministering to them with love and compassion, even if the Church's stance on same-sex relationships has not changed.  The U.S. Bishops as a whole (I know there are individual exceptions) seem much more concerned with upholding dogma and keeping believers in line than encouraging dialogue and compassion towards not only LGBTQ issues, but also women's reproductive issues, and interfaith engagement.  Sound a little harsh?  Maybe, but that's the reality of the situation.

As I was reading about the Bishops, some of the actions several of them took in opposing LGBTQ rights was not only disappointing, but infuriating and appalling.  On Bishop barred LGBTQ people from public ministry, banned children of same-sex couples from Catholic schools, and voiced the desire to push anyone who isn't one hundred percent in line with Catholic teaching out of the Church so that it could be a smaller, more orthodox community.  Another Bishop opposed the teaching of LGBTQ history in public schools, and signed a letter opposing the re-authorization of an act that would protect women against violence because it included sexual orientation and gender identity as protected classes.  Another Bishop attempted to ban Catholics who supported same-sex marriage, simply supported it, from receiving communion, and another told Church workers they would lose their jobs if they supported same-sex marriage, and shut down ministry services to gay and lesbian communities.  These actions aren't just examples of poor leadership or a galling lack of compassion for people of faith, whether LGBTQ identified or not, these are dangerous mindsets that very influential people in the Church possess and act upon, despite the overwhelming majority of Catholic laity opposing such beliefs and actions.  Given the nation's current tumultuous political climate, coupled with the hate crimes that have taken place since the election, the discriminatory actions of these leaders needs to be seriously looked at and they need to be held accountable for their part in spreading hate and mistrust among American Catholics.

This isn't the only thing that the Church needs to be called out on, however.  In general, the United States Bishops' rhetoric that religious liberty in this country is under attack needs to be examined.  While reading the same blog-post, I stumbled upon a campaign the Bishops launched back before same-sex marriage was the law of the land called "Fortnight for Freedom", which was essentially a two-week campaign filled with prayer vigils, rallies, and other politically charged activities.  The message that the Bishops were pushing was that religious freedom is under attack in the United States.  Among the issues the Bishops cited to back up this claim was the idea that expanding LGBTQ equality, specifically same-sex marriage, as well as government-mandated birth control coverage for most employers were direct attacks on people's right to religious freedom.

Whether or not you think he's a good president,
you have to admit, the man has a way with words

Here's the deal, religious freedom in this country means that everyone has a right to practice and express their own belief or faith, or non-faith, without fear of persecution or censure (unless your religious practices somehow harm others or impeded upon their own civil liberties).  It also means that we cannot force our religious beliefs onto other people, especially through legislation.  President Obama summed up this issue quite bluntly when he said "No, you can't deny women their basic rights and pretend it's about your 'religious freedom'.  If you don't like birth control, don't use it.  Religious freedom doesn't mean you can force others to live by your own beliefs."

Now, I'm not naive enough to believe that religion has no affect on politics and legislation whatsoever.  We are each formed by our faith and beliefs.  Our morals and values are shaped by our faith and beliefs, and they will be reflected in how we vote and who we vote for.  However, to claim that our religious freedom is somehow under attack because the rights and freedom of another group are upheld is ludicrous.  Christianity has been the dominant religion in this country for much of its history, so our politics and legislation up until now have obviously reflected the beliefs and values of that specific faith.  As our country becomes increasingly diverse and more religions and systems of belief come into the mainstream, a more balanced, neutral approach to people's rights is going to be necessary.  If Christian denominations don't support same-sex marriage, that's fine.  Churches are within their rights to say they will not perform or recognize those marriages.  Churches do not have the right to say the government has to refuse to recognize and perform those marriages, however, because the government is supposed to uphold and protect the rights of all people, not just a select few.  Churches can preach against the use of birth control, and push for abstinence-only education in private schools all they want, but they do not have the right to dictate on a national scale who has the right to birth control, or what kind of education public schools should be presenting.  Freedom of religion doesn't simply protect religions from government control, it also protects the people from religious control.

I'll probably get a lot of push back for this post, but the reality is that Christianity is not under attack in this country.  There is no war on religion (unless you're Muslim, let's be honest here), and no one is trouncing on your religious rights because they want to buy a cake for their same-sex wedding.  People are free to worship how they want, believe what they want, and that is the beautiful thing about this country.  Whether you think someone is right or wrong is totally your prerogative, but to force them to live how you think people should live and take away their freedom to choose their own path and their own life because your beliefs are different then theirs is about as un-American as you can get.

So, with all due respect to the Bishops, I think it's time they put more focus on ministering to the faithful, helping those in need, and supporting social efforts to create a better society on the whole, and spend a lot less time trying to control how people live their lives.  We're all just trying to figure out how to live in this world, how to be in relationship with each other, but we need to be able to choose for ourselves how we live.  As Catholics, we believe God gave us free will so that we could choose to be in relationship with each other and with God, but what good is that free will, how meaningful is that choice, when our religious leaders try to force the decision onto us by influencing our politics and legislation?  Our government is supposed to faciliate our right to choose, and our faith is supposed to help us make those choices...not take those choices from us.  

Until next time,
Erin

Working with the Fear: Responding to the Election

Today is a very emotional day in this country.  Some are feeling validated and joyous, but many others are overwhelmed by fear, confusion, and sadness.  I know there are reasons that the election happened the way it did.  I know that people voted for Trump because of strong beliefs and ideas that they didn't want to compromise on.  And while I can't agree with the decision, it was within those individual's rights to make the choice they did.  I'm not going to attack those people.  I'm not going to add fuel to a fire I already see blazing around me.  What I am going to do is try to explain the fear.  I want people to understand why, for many in this country, this election has left such terror in its wake.  I don't think there can be any kind of healing in this nation until this fear is fully addressed...and validated.


Last night, as I watched the results of the election begin to solidify Trump's position in the world, I was overcome by one terrifying thought.  I needed to make sure my brother was safe.  For anyone reading this who doesn't know me personally, I have a younger brother and sister, and we are all adopted.  My siblings are both African-American.  I feared for their safety last night, especially my brother's.  I still fear for his safety.  I texted him to tell him to be careful, that most likely nothing would happen right away, but that there was still a chance something could.  This fear is something that has been simmering inside of me for a very long time now.  I'm scared for him to be away from home because I can't guarantee he'll be safe, or that he won't encounter people that will look at him differently or treat him differently because of the color of his skin.  I can't guarantee he won't be the next innocent person shot in the streets.  I know my experience with this only scratches the surface of what it's like to be a member of a minority group in this country, because I myself am white and don't come face-to-face with this reality every day of my life.  The fear, though, the uncertainty, the sheer dread that people feel is something I can at least relate to, even in a small way, because there are people I love very much who I'm not sure are safe anymore.


People have been saying that "it's not that big of a deal", "they're just being sore losers", or "don't be so dramatic, it won't be as bad as you pretend it will be."  Maybe things won't be as terrible as I imagine they'll be.  Maybe it will have all been blown out of proportion in the long run, and it's not the downfall of the United States as so many predict it is.  That doesn't make the fear people are feeling today any less real or any less valid.  When an individual who has openly targeted immigrants, women, minorities, and his opponents is given the kind of power in the nation that Trump was elected to last night, that normalizes all those terrible things he said and did.  It makes it seem okay for everyone else to say and do those same terrible things, so those groups are of course going to be afraid.  I'm living in the reality of this fear on a college campus, where minority students don't feel safe, where immigrant students are fearful of losing their families to deportation, and where female students are fearful of how they'll be treated by their male counterparts.


I'm afraid.  I don't know what's going to happen, and the uncertainty is killing me.  I'm afraid for my brother and sister, I'm afraid for my Muslim friends, my Hispanic friends, my female friends, my LGBTQ friends.  I'm afraid of how they will be treated from this point on.  I'm afraid not only of physical violence and discriminatory legislation, but of how they will be spoken to, how they will be viewed.  I'm afraid that the Walmart greeter who smiled at all the white people but glared at my brother will be vindicated in her racism.  I'm afraid the men who think they can tell a woman how to act, dress, and speak will be vindicated in their sexism.  I'm afraid the people who mutter under their breath that "All Muslim's are terrorists" will no longer bother to keep their voices down.  I'm afraid that businesses that refuse to service LGBTQ people will be vindicated in their discrimination.  I'm afraid, not only because I think we're in danger of moving backwards politically or because the Supreme Court appointment might not be the moderate I was hoping for, but because by electing this man to the highest office in the land, we have also sent out the message that certain people are not welcome in this country, certain people are not valued in this country, and certain people are not equal in this country...and we don't ever want them to be.  Is it fair to say that all Trump supporters had this thought in mind yesterday when they cast their votes?  No, it's not.  But that is the message that comes with Trump, whether you like it or not.  That is the message he himself promoted throughout his candidacy.  It's a message of fear, and it's one that many of us are reading loud and clear today.


So, in the end, what's done is done.  No matter how this election turned out, it ultimately highlighted that this country is more divided than ever, and lives in more fear than ever.  So no matter which side you voted for, no matter your reasons for doing so, please remember that the feelings these groups have today are very real.  They are not being overly dramatic, they are not simply sore losers.  They are men, women, and children all afraid of the uncertainty of the future because they have already been targeted during this election in some form or another.  We need, more now than ever before, to show compassion to each other, to comfort each other, to reach out a hand to try and understand each other.  Recognize the fear, understand the fear, validate the reasons for the fear, and then we can try to work together to make sure fear never rules us ever again.


Until next time,
Erin   

Because Colbert is right - "You cannot laugh and be afraid at the same time"