Life Choice, Annika's Community

January 6, 2009
Three Kings Day / Ephiphany /
The revealing of God to the nations


I was looking at Annika this morning
as I fed her cooked cereal, yogurt and applesauce,
and, remembering Henri Nouwen and L’Arche
of my recent posts, I realized it wouldn’t matter much to me
if she was “normal” or if she was somehow “differently abled.”
I love the children. Sometimes they drive me nuts.
But they are delightful for themselves alone,
and if Annika hadn’t received (God forbid)
enough oxygen during her delivery,
she’d be a two year old forever.
Huh. What two-year-olds do is odd and delightful.
Minus the tragedy, everything’s fine, a human
who needs me, loves me, and draws my love forth
for herself. Same at L’Arche.

It’s a matter of love.

I realized that I might have had a different idea
had we discovered when Annika was in utereo
that she as a fetus was “compromised.”

The difference is the application of love.
Before she was there to love, Annika was an idea.
She was an idea of love. Now she’s a reality.

Maybe what separates “choice” people from “life” people
is that choice is more about individuals, about their struggles,
opinions, and options, about individual (family) energy and spirit.

Life is more about communities, about trusting in what can be,
about sharing difficulty, growing into a deeper empowerment,
together...

Maybe choice is what is real for unplanned pregnancies.
When people aren’t mature enough, or when there aren’t
supporting structures like family or a social safety net,
in which case it’s maybe nuts
to “embrace the chaotic blessing of life.”

Predictably, this led me to thoughts about religion.
I was thinking about atheists, Unitarians, Jews and Christians.

I was thinking that their stories and traditions
(often shared) train Jews and Christians
in the skills of interpretation and appreciation.
(“Appreciative inquiry: The basic idea
is to build organizations around what works,
rather than trying to fix what doesn't.”)
( )

Example: how to love a story like Noah and the Ark,
where God decides to kill off the sinful earth?
Then commissions virtuous Noah to provide a parachute.
Here’s how to read this story:
look to the improbable concept of “saving the animals.”
Celebrate that. Draw it, sing it, crayon it.
Teach your children how much Love can transform
seeming disasters. (Don’t focus on the liability
of this story, which is that Love started the problem
with a big angry rain).

Ask a Lubavitcher or a Mormon and they’ll have thought about it,
they’ll focus on one detail (Noah’s improbable obedience)
or another detail (God sets a rainbow in the sky and promises
never to destroy the earth again, a free-will covenant).
Not that you’d approve of their interpretation.
It’s like movie reviews. Sometimes you can’t like a movie
no matter how “important” the NYT reviewer
says it is to the history of cinema.

But if you’re “in” the community you agree to disagree.
You’re not “in” the community
if you walk out and never return to that church.
You’re a principled dissenter, out there on your own
(maybe dragging your family along, or splitting your family).

Another thing the traditional religions teach people
is that they aren’t God, they aren’t at the center.
God or Love is at the center.
The rest is “blessed mystery.”
Love it, love the blessed chaos of it.
Forget about “explaining” the important stuff.
Even thinking you could, is crazy-making.

In this world view, humility is “becoming.”
It’s a steadying comfort. An anchoring worldview.
Whether you’re trying to understand a tragedy,
or to build a community, finding a place
for your unique self in the larger scheme
feels like a blessing to the effort. It empowers.
These traditions often give rise to leaders
who guide, console, referee fights, and bless.
(as well as leaders not up to the task,
who divide, accuse, blame, pontificate, even abuse...)

In contrast, when many are sure of their “right-ness”
their “different-ness,” the resulting populist chaos
often isn’t very “blessed mystery.” It’s bracing, but lonely.
Lots of these folks in Alaska, firing off tirades
to “Letters to the Editor,” whose wives aren’t very good
text editors (as is mine, when I float a broadside past her,
and she wisely advises: “delete.”)
In a community, it’s often distracting, annoying,
it thrashes community members,
and drives off individuals with a low threshold for infighting,
or who don’t sense a deeper “truth” happening there.

What agnostics and other non-theistic people
have going for them is that they readily question authority.
Thus, the tyranny and silliness of “leaders-so-called” don’t fly.
People don’t “do” things obediently
because the priest or minister or board of directors
say they should. But, they also don’t “do” things
that they don’t understand. That can seem selfish.
Sometimes you don’t have to understand to love.
There’s a lot which people won’t ever understand,
but could love, because of that “blessed mystery.”

I have a small experience pool,
and from my time in our funky,
end of the road, furthest north lay-led UU fellowship,
I’m wondering if other groups which are based on the premise
that “there’s no authority,” and that there are “no answers,”
can make for the kind of community I crave. If people see
no reason to compromise their freedom, why bond?
If they don’t believe in the rewards of banding together,
why would they learn the skills of community?

For the sake of the blessed mysteries which are yet to be revealed,
if they be tragic (losses, failures, sadnesses, economic disaster) or ecstatic
(getting work we love, raising kids we admire, having a justice president, reversing global warming), I long to find a community which will love my improbable family,
and in which we can sharpen our compassion, implement our desire to serve,
share our wisdom, grow kindness, and learn how to dance
with improbable partners through life together.