Is Jesus still Scandalous?

When our pastor preaches about the resurrection of Jesus he describes it as scandalous. It was outrageous! A man died and then came back to life, upsetting generations of religious rhetoric. And that was only the cherry on top of years of ministry, which were so upsetting to those in power that they killed him. During his life he was friends with the marginal and transformed the lives of people who society had categorized as beyond saving. The people in power wanted him on their side, but he chose a cohort of ragamuffins instead.

Yes, this could also be the description of Shonda Rhimes new show, Scandal...well without the rising from the dead. And the star being killed...well so far.

The essence of my faith is described by my pastor as scandalous. I love it! I want my faith to be described as scandalous. I want my faith to make people uncomfortable. I want it to constantly challenge the religious norms. I want to question what people take as fact. I want to experience situations where Christians are uncomfortable. I want to do what no what expects me to do.

I like that my Jesus did the same things.

However, when I look around the Church, ask my difficult questions, and get answers that are out of touch with the reality around me, I wonder if my Jesus is still scandalous enough for today's world. Or is it the Church that isn't scandalous enough for Jesus?

This is my quest during Lent. Either I will find that Jesus is in fact irrelevant, boring, and not "crazy" enough for the world we live in today or I will find in the scriptures the Jesus who was outrageous enough to win this sassy, sensitive, and scandalous girl's heart. If it is the latter, then I will feel confident in fully pursuing the scandalous path I have only just begun to traverse in the Church and world. Pray for me.

A Valentine

I know it is not Valentine's day, but this Valentine can not wait.

I have a new job. Since September I have been working with Oakland Unified School District as a reading intervention teacher and a 7th grade math and science teacher. While I am doing two part-time jobs, my heart is with my middle schoolers. I have postponed writing about my experience due to exhaustion from being a new teacher and feeling inadequate to capture my new adventure with words. The words have finally come to me and I am no longer feeling like I am drowning in work.

The other day I opened the door to my class and a slow smile spread across my face. I wasn't expecting it, it just appeared on my face. "I love my classroom. I love my job" flitted through my mind. This was explained the spontaneous expression of joy and contentment displayed across my face. 

Currently, I am in a training for Restorative Justice. I hope to write more about this in the future, but if you are curious now, here is an overview from the National Council on Crime and Delinquency. In schools RJ is used when harm is done or as a way to build community in order to decrease detention and referral rates. Our training time is a blend of  cerebral learning about how to lead Circles and also experiencing a Circle time for ourselves. My training group consists of some parents, fellow teachers, after school teachers, and school aids. I still don't know everyone's name, but I feel closer to these people than most people in my life. I feel heard, understood, and valued. This is what I want for my students more than anything. I love the training I am receiving. 

This school is a perfect fit for me. Teachers understand the systemic injustices facing black and brown children and are actively discussing ways to challenge these injustices. My colleagues love to laugh and have a good time. They are learners and are constantly striving to improve their practice. The principal observes me and offers me honest feedback. She serves me by giving me a ride to BART and opens her personal life to me when she shares about her family. I love my school. 

My mentor for BTSA is at my school....and there is no other way to it express my relationship with her except to say "she gets me." She is the kind of teacher who gives her heart to her students. She is the kind of person you for a best friend. I have never had someone build such a deep trust with me so quickly. By watching her and allowing her honestly speak into my craft, she is helping form me into the teacher I have always wanted to be.

My partner teacher has taught in the past, but this is her first year back in about 5 years and she is new to middle school as well as our school. She offers a balance of being a veteran teacher who can share in the mind boggling experience of being a middle school teacher. These pre-teens are very different than children. Oh, and she just completed her PhD at Standford in Language accusation and has two kids. She is humble, funny, and one of the most efficient people I have met and yet is a self proclaimed "messy person." I want to be her when I grow up. I love my mentors.

And lastly I love my students. The more I hear their stories the more I admire them. The more I hear their insecurities the more I want to impress upon them their significance. The more I hear their hearts the more I am ok with storming out of class or yelling at me. They are starting to trust me and I realize what an honor and responsibility it is to hold their fragile trust in my hands. They challenge me to be the person that I want to be. They challenge me to be more like Jesus. They also will challenge my agenda, math skills, and every statement that comes out of my mouth everyday, but man I love them.

While this all sounds nice and fluffy, there is a rough side of love. I have cried for my own mistakes and hurt ego. I have been exhausted and lost my temper in class and resorted to (gasp) copying answers from a book. I have cried after a debrief with my principal. I have wondered if I am in the right profession. I have had kids flip me off,  punch each other, and throw things. I am still planning lessons on a day to day basis and am a couple of unit behind the district outline in math.....and science. Most days I feel like a failure.

But when I sit and eat my lunch and hear a group of my girls openly gossiping in front of me I feel right. When these girls feel they can openly share what is in their not quite child, not quit adult hearts - the pain, the questions, the joy - I simply love my job. And not just because I love to gossip. I love the relationship that is forming between us. We are falling in love. 

Spreading the Word

Deep down I am an activist. I want to change the world and make it a better place. Deep down I am also a coward who is fearful for my safety.

The internet is a great place for me to be an activist, because I can say what I need to say and you can take it or leave it. It relieves each of us from accountability.

In this case, I am taking action and inviting you to join me.

Tonight, I came across an issue that is a bit disturbing: Victoria's Secret shut down a viral campaign called "pinklovesconsent.com", because they were using their brand name, "pink", and heart logo. This campaign was merely trying to create a catchy parody that would capture people's attention long enough to educate them that "consent is sexy". Pink loves consent campaign was working to combat the culture of rape that is rampent in our country. This is a good thing, so why does Victoria's Secret want to shut it down? Because this is "confusing" their customers. But I digress...

If you want to more information read HERE and at the Huffington Post.

Below is the letter I wrote to Victoria's Secret customer service. It was a small step toward activism and I am getting the word out on Facebook and here. However, the reality is that a big company like this isn't going to make changes simply, because they will loose my business. But imagine if they lost hundreds of peoples business, especially during the holiday season? That might make them listen. And if they lost thousands of peoples' business from all over the country? That might make them change.

Man or woman, I urge you to get involved: write an email, post the article, tell someone you know about this issue. We need to combat the culture of rape that is prevalent in our society and lend our support, our money, and our voice to those, like FORCE who are trying to create a culture where consent is sexy.


Dear Victoria's Secret Customer Service,

I am an Angel Credit Card holder and exclusively buy my intimate apparel at Victoria's Secret. I like the styles, the fit, and easy accessibility. In the past I have been disappointed by rumors of poor working conditions for your garment makers. This is just heresy, because I have not been able to find any direct studies that show that Victoria's Secret's garments are made in sweat-shops. However, your garments are made in countries like India, Shri Lanka, and China, to name a few, which are notorious for their dangerous working conditions, measly pay, and loose labor laws. I considered pulling my business and encouraging others to do the same, but I did a little cross comparison and realized that most intimate apparel is manufactured in countries with similar working conditions, pay, and labor laws. I decided to keep my business with Victoria's Secret. 

Now I am reading about the issue with the FORCE website, "pinklovesconsent.com". As an advocate for consent and as a woman, I am appalled that you are fighting for your brand over educating the public about consent. As a company, you should be HONORED that FORCE is using your brand to create awareness on this very important subject. I am not sure about the legality surrounding the use of your logo and name, but FORCE  says that parody is protected under the 1st amendment. Either way, it is just tacky and offensive that you asked and then compeled them, through lawyers, to take it down. 

I was already contemplating taking my business to competitors, because of the labour issue and have not been very impressed with the products or customer service recently. Now, I am definitely taking my business somewhere else, unless Victoria's Secret can change their tune. Get on board with consent! Change the culture of rape that is rampent in our society. As a store mainly for women, you should be empowering women. FORCE is trying to do just that, so you should be supporting them, funding them, and thanking them, not getting in their way. Your argument for making them take down the website was that you did not want your customers confused. This customer is not confused: it is crystal clear to me that you are A company I no longer want to support. 

Sincerely, 
Robyn Hall 

Reducing Car[bon] (Part 1)

Currently Robyn and I are halfway through our self-titled Great Bike 'N' Rail Adventure to Southern California.

Amtrak Pacific Surfliner

In brainstorming the trip, we had several objectives, goals, and questions. A few of them are as follows:

Could We? Is it even possible? Can two people travel 500 miles each way within California using only pedals and public transportation? This is a step beyond the family pickup at the train station or airport. Could an entire trip, door to door, be done without the use of a car, especially to suburban destinations? 

Should We? What are the practical issues facing car-free travel? Will we be able to fit a week's worth of supplies in our panniers and still look presentable for Thanksgiving dinner? Will the financial and environmental savings offset the inconvenience of unpredictable public or lengthy self-powered transit? 

Would We? Would we eagerly embrace this car-free adventure? And afterward the trip is completed, would we consider it a one-time experience? Or a new approach to long-distance transportation? 

We made it to Murrieta, although not without several challenges along the way. Once our trip is complete, I hope to follow up with several observations, pictures, reflections, and recommendations for long distance car-free travel. In the meantime, I leave you with the one question most clearly reflected on the face of those we discuss our trip with:

Are we crazy?

 The Details:

- Jumping on BART from San Francisco to Oakland Jack London Square

- Taking the Amtrak bus from Oakland to San Luis Obispo (originally this was to be a train, but it was delayed 11 hours, so we took a bus instead)

- Riding our bikes from San Luis Obispo to Robyn's extended family in Los Osos

- Riding our bikes back to San Luis Obispo

- Taking Amtrak to Los Angeles Union Station

- Taking the Metrolink to Corona

- Riding our bikes from Corona to my parents house in Murrieta (we almost made it! but we were 10 miles short before it got too dark!)

- Carpooling to the Rose Bowl to watch Stanford take on UCLA

- Taking Amtrak from Los Angeles back home to San Francisco

Part 1: Love your City

The photo is framed in our foyer. Snapped innocuously enough as the two of us strolled through the Tenderloin a year ago, the photograph spoke to my soul. Since then, the image has been imprinted to the back of closed eyelids, seeping through my conscious. To me it has become the artistic representation of my two years spent in San Francisco.

I first spoke the words to Robyn in late 2011. We had recently relocated to the south end of the mission district. Bicycling the early-morning surface streets of an autumn San Francisco gave me clarity of thought not found when previously underground. And as graduate school decisions, although not imminent, looked on the horizon, I told her:

I think I'm falling in love with San Francisco.

Huh?

By love I mean a deep passion for the city and all its residents to prosper. By love I mean a desire for beautiful public spaces to emerge from curbside parking or abandoned lots. By love I mean removing the shackles of violence and slavery from our "unlovable" neighborhoods. By love I mean innovations in the building industry to reduce our energy consumption and footprint. By love I mean intentionally creating space, conversations, or opportunities for people to ask spiritual questions about God. By love I mean feeling the shared pain of the community when injustice occurs. By love I mean...

This is new for me. Never before have I loved my city, no, not like this. I had constructed hazy warm recollections- most likely not my own but instead mental recreations of stories told to me- of my early years in Santa Barbara and Pasadena. My relationship with Murrieta was like my relationship with my first car: the Ford Taurus was functional, spacious, and sometimes frustrating, but I never knew anything different. San Luis Obispo was a place of tremendous growth in my life, and certainly when the beautiful hills turned green in springtime I exclaimed "I love SLO!" more than once. But on reflection I see that was a surface love, an infatuation and fondness for a beautiful and important location. As I grew and matured, SLO seemed a location ever the same, a location unwilling to ask the same questions I held in my soul.

San Francisco is an easy place to love. We can bike and bus everywhere, instead of sitting in traffic. We have incredible community events such as Off The Grid. It is more convenient to try to live as Ordinary Extremists. All which make San Francisco a fantastic training ground to learn to love a city. Perhaps in future years Robyn and I will be called towards a geographic location less glamorous, less affluent, less... easy. Perhaps not. Either way, my soul now has a new tagline:

Love your city.


Coming soon:
Part 2: Love your Neighborhood
Part 3: Love your Campus?

Ordinary Extremist

Today I went to the local cooperative grocery store, Rainbow Grocery, to pick up some fair trade, organic, and/or local items. Recently, we discovered that toiletry items, like shampoo and soap, come with a human price tag. Workers who make these items are not paid ethical wages and the farmers who provide the ingredients are not paid a livable wage.  In an attempt to not take advantage of others, we decided to buy fair trade and organic soap and shampoo. These, sadly, can only be found at our co-op.

While riding home, I was thinking about a documentary called No Impact Man. Find it on Netflix instant if you are interested. This man lived intentionally in a way that would have limited impact on the earth for one year. To do this he bought local food, lived without electricity, and only used a bike as his only means of transportation. The journey his family went on was convicting and unimaginable. It seems very extremist.

Some people when they look our life say we are extremist. Danny rides a bike to work most days. We don't own a car. We are constantly looking for USA made clothing and household items. We are willing to pay more for things made locally. I do not have insurance by choice and instead pay into a Christian cooperative where people all over the country share each others medical bills. Danny and I care deeply about human well-being, the care of our earth, and living in counter-cultural ways.

We are motivated by Jesus' teachings to love unconditionally and with his power, right the things that are wrong in our world. It is wrong that Fresno's air quality is so poor, because of pollution from cars in the surrounding metropolises. It is wrong that farmers who labor over coffee beans are paid pennies for what we pay dollars for on a daily basis. It is wrong that children are taken from their homes and forced to mine for precious gems. So, because we love Jesus and he has given us everything, we buy local, organic, and fair trade. Oh and we ride bikes.

As I was on the bus I was thinking that my purchases put me closer to living like No Impact Man. And I smiled. To me, this is becoming ordinary. This is the way we are living. One life style choice at a time  to better love our neighbors, both near and far, and our world. Some would say we are extremist, but to me it is just ordinary.

Chasing Bubbles

There are fleeting moments of pure happiness. I experienced one this week while watching kids chase bubbles. It was the end of a long day. Our feet dragged as if there were milestones embedded within our soles. My watch seemed to be moving backwards as I longed for the twenty minutes until my charges would disseminate into the arms of their adoring parents. Six of us total marched as a gauntlet crew, toward the grass with a foreboding from trying to kill time.

The first bubble was released into the atmosphere. Shrieks and laughter filled the college campus. Passer-byers, young and old, were compeled from their inner world to grin. Squeals of delight followed the children as they lept toward each small rainbows The sound would decrescendo until a twitch of my wrist and the invisible momentum of the wind would rush through my magic wand creating a stream of emerald, ruby, and diamond orbs. Jackets were cast to the ground no longer needed because of the rare San Francisco summer sunshine streaming down and the warmth that bubbles up when distracted by play. The children would rush back to me as the tide rushes back to the shore, the twinkle in their eyes betraying pure happiness.

From the treasured sunshine to the elegant simplicity of children playing to the fleeting beauty of bubbles, the moment was complete. I was content. Why can't all of life be like chasing bubbles?