a place for my soul to rest

In the past three years, I have moved as many times, crossing state or national borders each time. This last move was especially hard because I did not have a supportive faith community. My denomination does exist here, but it is not the same denomination I came from in the States. And most often I do not feel as if there is a place for me (a liberal, heretical, WOMAN pastor) here within my church.

This has caused much grief and sorrow as my denomination was one I CHOSE as an adult, one that allowed and encouraged me to bring my questions and my doubts, one that didn't require me to check my brain at the door, one that nurtured me and sustained me through my education and first decade of ministry. And now, I fear I may have to leave.

In many ways, the Unitarian Universalist Church would be an obvious fit for me. 1) On days when I profess a belief in god, I am more unitarian than trinitarian, and 2) If I consider the possibility of heaven, I would have to put myself into the universalist understanding of salvation. Unitarian? Check. Universalist? Check. And the UUs are so lefty and liberal. I love their commitment to social justice and to peace and the environment. And my Beloved is UU. So it should be a perfect fit. Except...

I am christian. At least, I am culturally christian. I may not take the stories in the christian scriptures to be literal truth, but they are my stories, the ones I grew up with, and the ones that resonate with metaphorical truth within my soul. Some of the christian stories I adore. And many I abhor. But they are the stories I know. I appreciate the sacred stories of other traditions, and I can find truth and meaning within them. But they are not my stories. They are not the ones which quiet the storms in my life or sing to my soul.

And I love christian liturgy, the hymns, the candles, the smells and bells, the familiar words, the stand-up-here-sit-down-there. There is a rhythm to it, and it matches the rhythm of my life. It's what I know.

When I visit the UU churches with Craig, I love the engaging conversations. I love the passionate commitment to serving on behalf of the others and the world. I love the diversity of thoughts, opinions, and perspectives (though not too diverse, not many conservative attend UU churches). But I miss the liturgy. And while the conversations are challenging and engaging, they are not engaging my stories.

What I really want is the intellectually rigorous sermons I heard preached in the churches of my denomination back in the States. What I want is to hear somebody wrestle with my stories, really wrestle with them: to explore the historical and cultural context in which the texts were written, to examine the original languages and see what might have been lost in translation, to ask whether there is meaning in these ancient texts for contemporary followers, and to empower listeners (i.e. me) to respond.

~~~~~
From my apartment, I can see the steeples of two churches just blocks from where I love (when asked about my religious views, I should give this answer sometime). One of these churches is Robertson-Wesley United Church. Earlier this spring, I knew I wanted liturgy for the first Sunday of Lent, so walked down the block, through the park, and through an alleyway, and slipped into the pews for a wonderful reflection (by both ministers!) on the idea of "journey". In the bulletin, I saw an announcement for a bible study which I attended several times in cognito. I have worshipped there on several other occasions since.

I was initially disappointed on Pentecost (my favorite liturgical holiday) when instead of the Pentecost story, the minister began a series on, of all things, the doctrine of the trinity! But the sermon was fascinating - giving the history of the doctrine, acknowledging the lack of biblical support for the concept of a three-for-one, I mean three-in-one god. It was challenging, inspiring, uncomfortable, and I LOVED it. I may not be a trinitarian christian, but I can certainly appreciate how many people find meaning in understanding divine revelation in three different ways. I personally think the number three is limiting, but I get that others appreciate it. And this is pretty much what was said from the pulpit at Robertson-Wesley!!! "We don't need to chuck the whole thing out, but let's understand why people, why our tradition, thinks this is important, and you can decide for yourself if this is meaningful for you."

Yes, this is a place where my soul can rest. After these many years and many moves, this is what my soul is needing. And I think I may have found some companions for the journey.

Twilight (halfway through)

I am halfway through the book, Twilight, and many times I have felt the urge to throw it across the room. At the halfway point, this book offends my feminist sensibility and romanticizes controlling behaviors that, in my line of work, I have been trained to see as red flags for abuse in relationships. This books makes me so angry. And I am horrified that so many young girls LOVE this book and see the vampire protagonist, Edward, as "dreamy", an ideal boyfriend. Ugh!! I am so tempted to toss it out all together.

The thing that keeps me from doing this is that is that the book belongs to my friends Juli and John. And it's not that I want to take care of things I have borrowed (which I do), but because I have such respect for Juli and John as intelligent, thoughtful, reflective, and feminist people. And they loved the book. And so many other people I know, love, and respect, absolutely LOVE this book, indeed the whole series. My college friend Becky, a feminist and a children's librarian, claims that this is one of the few series she has ever reread. What am I missing here? I am committing myself to finishing the book to answer that very question.

In the meantime, I am wrestling with the intense response this book has provoked in me. Part of my response is cerebral. But much, much more is emotional and personal. And while it is tempting to keep all of that at a distance, to strictly write a rational, feminist evaluation, if I am going to honestly critique this book, without having even finished it, then at least I need to acknowledge the emotional component of my response up front.

So, where to begin? Stephenie Meyer certainly does know her audience. She writes to teenage girls, in the voice of a teenage girl. And she skillfully and exquisitely captures the angst and insecurity, vulnerability and turmoil of adolescence and young love. Her female protagonist, Bella, doubts her abilities, lacks confidence, and sees herself as clumsy, dumpy, and ordinary. Just like I did. Didn't you? And Bella becomes infatuated with beautiful, brilliant, strong, and mysterious Edward, who happens to be a vampire. Talk about the ultimate bad boy. But Edward doesn't always play like the bad boy. He's becomes Bella's knight in shining armor, her savior. Again and again, he saves her life, proving that he is really a good guy, despite that pesky little thirst for human blood thing. And Edward doesn't want to be bad. He struggles with his own nature. He's a tortured soul, who longs for human contact and he turns to Bella, who is the only person who can truly know him and who can save him from himself. He sees beyond her perceived ordinariness to the exception wisdom, beauty, and mystery she possesses.

A perfect romance, eh? The beautiful, tortured boy saves the plain, ordinary girls from great evil (and mundane living), and she in turns saves him from his a loneliness and through her love, helps him to find himself. It's what every teenage girl dreams, right? I know I did. Bella becomes hopelessly weak and reckless in her infatuation. And she doesn't show the strength or backbone I would want her to show. She gets all ga-ga and stupid. But every girl does that. As my friend Jen states, "Weren't we all a little dysfunctional at seventeen?"

But this book, at least the first half, goes beyond the "normal" dysfunction of teenage girls in love. Edward's behavior is consistent with that of an abuser. He professes his desire to keep Bella safe, from danger in the world and from his own nature. On one hand he tells her that she is amazing and strong, and all the while he undermines her confidence. He claims that she is so special and unique that she needs to be protected. Never mind that Bella has done a fine job taking care of herself for seventeen years with absent parents. Suddenly, she is "delicate" and needs the protection only he can offer. And Edward casts everyone around her is a threat to her, even her friends and himself. And so he begins to manipulate her to mistrust her friends and to lie to those around her. Classic abuser behavior. He constantly does this come-closer-pull-away trick, to keep her uncertain of their relationship. Remember, she no longer has friends she can confide in the help her discern what is happening between her and Edward. He is extremely jealous of any attention given to her by other boys or any attention she may show to them, even as friends. Edward constantly tells Bella that he just cannot resist her, that she has such power over him. And he's a stalker. He follows her. He watches her sleeping. He eavesdrops on conversations.

And when Bella finds out, she thinks it's romantic. "Ah, he likes me."

And when teenage girls read this, they think it's romantic. "Ah, he likes her."

And when teenage boys treat teenage girls like this, they think it's romantic. "Ah, he likes me."

But it's not romantic. It's sketchy. It's creepy. It's controlling. It's manipulative. And it's abusive.

My friend Amy, a leader of the Women's Center on our seminary campus, has told me to "hang in there", that Bella develops a backbone and matures as the story progresses. I hope she's right. And I hope that when Stephenie Meyer smartens Bella up, that she will call out Edward's controlling, manipulative behaviors and name them unacceptable. Otherwise she does a great disservice to her readers by framing romance in the terms of these abusive behaviors.

I am continuing to read. And if I feel the need to throw the book while reading it, I will just conjure up any of the Edwards I have known (and loved) in my life and throw the book at them.

the professor's wife

In the past year, I have had a number of labels put on me, in some cases even stamped into my passport: immigrant, settler, dependent, wife... And I have been struggling to figure out how these labels relate to words I have previously used to describe myself: citizen, activist, independent, feminist, partner...

Many sacrifices have been made in order for Craig and I to be together and for Craig to assume this amazing position and to fulfill the vocation dream he has held since he was six (he jokes that in 1st Grade, he changed his major for paleontology to astronomy). And some of those sacrifices have been tough for me.

But one thing I have realized is that I LOVE being a "professor's wife"*, although I struggle with being identified as anyone's possession (fortunately Craig would never see me as such). As a professor's wife, I get all of the benefits of the community of academia (stimulating conversations, fascinating community, access to lectures and concerts, etc) without actually having to get the PhD, without having to sit through departmental meetings, and without having to teach (though I think I would enjoy the teaching piece).

Back in the fall, I joined the Faculty Women's Club, which although it is open to women faculty, consists mostly of professor's wives. While my current job does not allow me to attend as many gatherings as I would like, I have enjoyed and appreciated the myriad gifts these women have given to me, namely the gift of empathetic support. These women know what it means to be uprooted for a partner's career. They know what it means to move across the continent or around the globe from one's family. They know the vulnerability one feels as a setller, an immigrant, a newcomer. They know the sacrifices I have made. They have bene there. They have survived. And indeed they have thrived.

The other gift these women give me is the sense that success and accomplishment need not be dependent upon employment. Many of these women had vibrant and thriving careers of their own, but many did not. Some held jobs that filled them with meaning and purpose, others simply worked for additional income, and still others did not draw paychecks for their activities. But all of these women are successful and accomplished. They have lived into their passions. They have filled their time and their lives with growth, learning, service, community, beuty, action, hobbies, and pursuits.

Last night, members of FWC gathered at Eunice's house as she showed us her Inuit art collection, shared her stories of working on various galleries across Canada, and imparted to us her love for and desire to learn about the Inuit people. On the way home, I was talking with my friend Sarah (another gift of FWC) and together, we were commenting on how inspirational these women who have been there are to us newbies who are just figuring out what it means to be a "professor's wife".

I don't know if I'll ever get used to the labels put upon me. I don't know when I'll stop feeling the sense of loss at the life I left behind (even while celebrating the life that currently brings me such joy). I don't know where I will find my sense of purpose, success, and accomplishment in this new world. But I do know I appreciate the wisdom, friendship, and support I receive from me community of "professors' wives".



* Despite the fact that I am not actually Craig's "wife", people still see me as such. Or, they see him as my husband: http://www.phys.ualberta.ca/physicsupdate/archive/FallSocial2008/FallSocial2008/FallSocial2008_008.html