You know, I have had my share, or should I say, my bellyfull, of middle class Christianity. I suppose I can say this because I have always worshiped in churches of predominantly middle class Christians. I am not middle class. I am a Christian. This has often been for me, to put it mildly, frustrating. Even now, I am in an Anglican parish church that is not simply predominantly middle class, but predominantly upper middle class. And the take away? We get along splendidly! Who would have guessed or expected? Moreover, I have been attending St. Faith's for moving up towards two years, and I still cannot see myself moving on, or away. I like these people. They seem to like me. I am growing to love these people. They seem to be growing in love for me. Could it get better? Well, of course. My presence for them is also a challenge to them. The recently departed priest there (she just moved onto another parish, since she is an interim priest) told me that she sees me as a kind of positive or beneficent irritate there, rather like the grit that the oyster transforms into a pearl, I would suppose. Only, in this case, who is the oyster, and who is the grit, since this seems to be rather reciprocal, I should say.
Meanwhile, the earth is turning and our beds are burning, or at least a lot of our natural space is in flames, in Canada during our short hot summers, and more so in California and in Australia, where summer is generally very long, scorching and unrelenting. And now they say that food prices are on the rise again because of climate change, though no one ever seems to mention corporate greed as a contributing factor. Wages, naturally, are not about to rise in tandem with food or the rising costs of other essentials.
Meanwhile, homelessness is not going away, and the homeless are not going anywhere. So simple it would be to just declare homelessness a humanitarian crisis, release funding and boots on the ground, but there is no political will because the conservative underbelly of this country still hates and wants to go on punishing the poor and economically vulnerable. They're no longer allowed to vent their hate on people of colour, nor on queer people, or women, and it is becoming increasingly difficult to get away with slagging people with disabilities and mental health struggles. So, our conservative underbelly will want to preserve their right to poor bash, because without a convenient scapegoat for their collective shadow how would they ever cope? Poor dears!
To put it mildly, we're all screwed. This is why I am done with taking any of this seriously, even if it is all serious. I have to laugh, or I will surely perish. I have to celebrate beauty, or there is no flame in my heart. I cannot ignore the problems. But why should my heart stop dancing? Especially when it is that joy and love that fuels me to reach out in care to others. Can we sing while we are weeping? Can our hearts actually be moved towards others?
Are we grateful for what we already have?
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