“I believe that our world is on the verge of self-destruction and death because the society as a whole has so deeply neglected that which is most human and most valuable and the most basic of all the works of love--the work of human communication, of caring and nurturance, of tending the personal bonds of community.” (Plaskow & Christ, p. 217)
Re-reading this today made me feel better. I know it seems odd, since it is referring to the destruction and death of the world. However, when I read this, what I think about is the fact that so many people I love and admire are invested in exactly this kind of work. Ministry, chaplaincy, activism, teaching, art...these are the lifeblood of humanity. I believe Plaskow and Christ are correct that communication, nurturing, and building community are the essential elements needed most right now. I have seen the power in this work.
It makes me angry that this “has been seen as women’s work and discounted as too mundane and undramatic, too distracting from the serious business of world rule.” (p.217) I am angry that women have been diminished so thoroughly that any work associated with women becomes less important. It rang true that “a group or person who confronts us in anger is demanding acknowledgement from us, asking for the recognition of their presence, their value.” (p.220)
This is the same sentiment coming from both conservatives and progressives as our country drags through the election. As we see the hatred, Plaskow and Christ call it “anger turned rigid” repeated on the news and on social media, we need to stay grounded in the reality of the importance of anger. Anger is the catalyst for action and “anger does not go away or disappear...it expresses itself in passive-aggressive activity or in moralistic self-righteousness and blaming.” (p.220) I see that so clearly reflected in the pain of all sides of this very divisive time.
Yesterday I watched Heidi Schreck”s Broadway show called, What the Constitution Means to Me (Links to an external site.). While I was watching it, I had a big, ugly cry. There was bawling, moaning, keening and even wailing. My handkerchief was truly disgusting by the end. I have always had BIG emotions and art (particularly theater) has always been a wonderful place to express them cathartically.
There was a time when I rarely showed any emotion, or even recognized many of my emotions. This was usually during a life crisis, when I went into auto-pilot and used emotional shut down as a coping mechanism for the moment. However, it was true that “[i]f we are not perceptive in discerning our feelings, or if we do not know what we feel, we cannot be effective moral agents.” (Plaskow & Christ) This kind of shutting down, or compartmentalizing seemed to damage not only me, but my relationships. I adopted this tactic after I had been told that my emotions were “too much.”
While I disagree with ever trying to minimize people’s emotions, I recognize that I had learned to express my big emotions in harmful ways. Much like Robin DiAngelo describes in White Fragility, my emotions were used to manipulate a situation in my feeble attempt to have my needs met or cover up my own responsibility. It was not ideal, but it was a coping mechanism I had learned from my family. Fortunately, I have better tools in my emotional toolbox now and do not have to have the pendulum swing from emotional manipulation to shut down.
The ability to recognize and express emotions in healthy and constructive ways is only the beginning of the work, though. As Plaskow and Christ explain, “[t]he moral question is not, “what do I feel?” but rather “what do I do with what I feel?” (p.219)
When I became an empty-nester, it was a challenge. Not only because I missed my kiddos (I do), or because I lost my excuse to watch Muppets (just between us, I still do), it was because it is a culturally acceptable way to spend everyday focussed on love and right-relationship (Plaskow & Christ). Once all the fabulous kiddos headed out to new adventures, I found myself investing more into my end-of-life work and community activism, aiming for that same focus in new places. Eventually, it became liberating to have so much time and energy to use that “mothering” energy in so many other areas. Now, I see that what parenting was for me was my introduction to radical love and “radical love is a dangerous and serious business.” (p.223)
The love I have is too big for just my family. The anger I have is too big to sit home when I could be doing activism work. My frustration is too big not to leave the security of a life well built and lived once it didn’t fit me anymore. My emotions have become the best guideposts for what I should be doing and the richness from which I can draw an seemingly endless well of empathy.
How can I ever see a child ripped from their parents and sit still? How can I watch Black Trans women die and not scream out? How can I watch a terminally ill person approach death and not want to ease that transition? And after it all, I can go home and have myself a snotty, ugly cry.
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