There’s something in the fridge that–guessing by the smell–is desperate to get out and be allowed to die properly. Now that the 20 turkey breasts my husband brought home from Costco are in his car on the way to the soup-kitchen, I should be able to get into the fridge and ferret out the offending party. But I don’t wanna.
I was gonna go with a long attempt at being funny about how I could avoid doing it much like how our elected officials are avoiding governing, but I don’t wanna. I’ve lost my heart for this. I was thinking this a.m., as a waft of rotting stench blew out of the open fridge, about how some people want to do away with things like the EPA because they are “job killers” and my heart and head just hurt at the absolute VOID of imagination on the part of people who are supposed to be trying to figure out ways to help stimulate the economy. I’m thinking things like–how is tainted water GOOD for our economy? Yes, there would be a rise in need for medical services, but is that the way we want to grow our economy? And I started thinking about what happened to Van Jones after he told a bunch of us UUs at GA that we needed to learn how to govern and how we need to pay attention to new ways, green ways to grow our economy.
He was right. And he got the shaft.
I’m also following The Red Pill Brethren (and have no issue with the word Brethren because my theological and sociological imagination allows me to see the intent behind the name, despite being a female), and while I’m not ready to swallow the whole pill, I’m fascinated by the imagination going on behind this missional movement. Should we continue on with old thought in the face of new realities? In religion, in government, in life?
The refrigerator stinks and it isn’t going to clean itself out and the last thing I need to do is throw everything out when I just need to find the thing that offends (and those things that will soon offend). I won’t try to stretch this metaphor any longer, but I’m doing what I do well: looking at patterns of thought and action and seeing where they intersect with what I’m doing and how I might need to make changes.
And, while I’m recognizing patterns, I’m also trying to hear and be instructed by the voices of the prophets. Because the voices of the profits just aren’t making my heart sing with hope these days. Or maybe they are, because I just realized that hope is not a commodity in great need when the water is clear, when people are free and able to make their own medical decisions (with or without the added benefit of not worrying about how they will pay for such decisions), and when our children, husbands and sisters are not the ones being sent to war in other nations. I could live with less reason to hope right now. But hope is only meant to be a means, a catalyst; hope is not our end goal. It will take action–fueled by hope and righteous indignation that will bring the work of the prophets into fruition.
Right now, right now, though, I need to act. First on the fridge. Then on the lessons of my own prophets.