Let the sun wake you up. Grind the beans, heat the water,
and make your cup of coffee. Enjoy it. Drink it slowly. Notice how your
pour-over tastes much better than the drip brew at work.

Don鈥檛 make the news your lectionary. Give
thanks. Meditate. Pray. Pause before you
open your device. Listen to the birds outside
of your window.

Work hard, but take breaks. Pay attention to your body. Get
out of the stiff kitchen chair at your makeshift desk. Stretch.
Breathe. Make a cup of tea. Go on a long walk in the middle
of the day.

Let your son distract you. Let your dog rest her head on your
lap. Pressing send one more time will not change the world.
Replacing your anxiety with presence just may though.

Breath in,
鈥淭his is not…,鈥�
Breath out,
鈥渁ll up to me.鈥�

Breathe in the air shared by every other human on this earth.
You are not alone in this wildness.

Stop working and disconnect. Dig your hands into the soil. Call that
person you kept telling, 鈥渨e should get lunch sometime,鈥� But never did
because you were too busy 鈥� or too terrified they would rather not.
Let yourself feel the weight of the world in your hands.
Run your fingers across the ocean. Hear the trees breathe
in renewed air.

Clasp your loved one鈥檚 hand from far away. Grieve with them that
they couldn鈥檛 walk at graduation. Or that she labored alone for two
hours while waiting for a room.

Hold the earth just long enough to recognize it is far too heavy to
place on your back. Set it down. Watch the sunset and hold onto
gratitude for this single day.

Sacred Space is curating a virtual gallery to offer space to communally share how we are processing in this season. We would love to be witnesses to the ways you have been showing up with yourself to grieve and lament. to submit a photo of your art, a written piece, a recording of you playing music, or any other form of processing. In the coming weeks, you can visit the Intersections blog to see artists highlighted.

The post Pandemic Way of Life appeared first on 天美视频 of Theology & Psychology.

鈥淗ow are you grieving? In what creative and available ways have you found for your body to express its pain?鈥� Melissa Deeken, MATC and MACP student

Sacred Space is curating a virtual gallery to offer space to communally share how we are processing in this season. They would love to be witnesses to the ways our students have been showing up with themselves to grieve and lament. to submit artwork, a written piece, a musical recording, or any other form of processing.

鈥� reflects what this time has allowed/required me to do鈥攕low down. Amidst that slowness, I’ve been surprised to receive guidance, support and blessings from the plant allies that are providing food, medicine, and keeping our ecosystems in balance at all times and especially now amidst pandemic.鈥�

Kate Fontana’s patronus is a peregrine falcon. She thrives on ambiguity, karaoke, and the worlds of youth fantasy fiction. She struggles with single-use plastics, small-talk, and to get anywhere on time. She is a Sagittarius, an auntie, and a third-year MDiv student. You can visit her blog at .

鈥淎fter an initial five weeks of enjoying the slowing down that the quarantine provided, during the fifth week I began to feel a building anxiety and a feeling of overwhelm. My process of grounding myself started with yoga, tapping exercises, and meditation. Yet while it aided in reconnecting to myself, it wasn’t until I started mixing colors on my palette and putting some force into my brush strokes that I began to feel the transfer of my emotions onto the canvas, and an eventual emotional release. There is something cathartic about mapping a color to an emotion and assembling them together into a mosaic. The process helped me identify areas where my body was holding emotional tension and where I needed to tend to myself the most.鈥�

Yuliya is a Seattle-based photographer, writer and grad student of Counseling Psychology, playing in the intersecting spaces of trauma and creativity. You can see Yuliya鈥檚 photography at .

鈥淔rida was a woman who bore her discomfort and worked through adversity. These are times of adversity and she inspires me.鈥�

Danielle is a mother of four (ages 14, 12, 10 and 8), wife of one awesome guy, and graduating with a Masters in Counseling Psychology from 天美视频 of Theology & Psychology. She is honored to be a regular contributor to and her and . She plans to open a private practice. Her loves are my four children and husband. You can find the #supersixcastillejos reading Mo Willems and other various books, hiking, creating spaces for art, and adventuring together. Her heart is to bear witness to the stories untold by the marginalized, silenced, and bodies seeking healing. As a survivor herself, she fights together with clients for love, justice, truth, and honor. Learn more about Danielle by following .

鈥淥ne of the ideas I’m trying on in solitude is: soft is good. Soft words, soft thoughts, soft body. This does not come naturally to me.

I like rough edges and abrasive things like critiques and analyses and freezing cold water and hard, unsquashable objects like river rocks and steel, like concrete buildings that cut the light into clean lines. Soft makes me suspicious.

A long time ago in school critiques, one of my art professors would always take my hands. Cracked, stained, maybe bleeding, they bore the brunt of whatever work had just been finished. These? He would say, ignoring whatever sculpture I had hurled my body at for the past two weeks. These hands are the piece.

And this need for steel and concrete, this need to hurl myself against unyielding impenetrable boundedness is not because tough calls out to tough like deep to deep. The craving to feel cool unyielding solidity outside comes from somewhere deep within where, in a really terrifying sense, I’m soft too.

As my own boundedness grows new and fragile in some places, calloused in others, I feel the gentle but reliable edges of my own skin from the inside out. There is soft and steel in here, too. As smooth and cool as a river stone and as easily squashed as a freshly baked roll all at once.

And still: how scary to be soft. How terrifying to let the concrete be out there and grow a skeleton inside, to touch surfaces that might collapse. How strange but strong to feel the texture of my internal world softening and hardening at once, like new skin growing under a scab.鈥�

Ellen Cline is a MACP student interested in body as an instrument of research, art, and healing. She is committed to growing out her hair during this time of isolation. She will not buzz her head. You are all witnesses. To view more of Ellen鈥檚 work, visit .

The post Processing Amidst a Pandemic: A Collection of Student Artwork appeared first on 天美视频 of Theology & Psychology.

Delirious, we stumble over the crest and onto what feels like another planet. There is no other way to describe this first glimpse of The Enchantments than otherworldly. Suffice it to say, there is a reason that I submit myself willingly to such physical and mental agony to be in that place. I have yet to find anywhere like it, and they lay hidden in the very mountains that I am now observing, the same mountains that watched over me as a child in the Leavenworth Valley. I completed my first through-hike in 2016 and have returned every year since. It鈥檚 as if I didn鈥檛 have a choice. I would beg my sister to never let me do this again while on the punishing ascent of Asgaard and be choosing which month would be best the following year by the time we were in the parking lot waiting for our uncle with melon as a treat for our struggle.

But this year was different.

We hiked mostly in silence. My sister stopped and took in views longer than normal. I was antsy, hiked ahead, waited, and looked around quickly.I just wanted to go home, to be done.

I realized that we were saying goodbye.

We dropped out of the Core Zone and started our descent, expertly navigating the trail and avoiding the accumulated mistakes of past years鈥� mishaps and wanderings. We plunked ourselves down for our ritual of whiskey, gummy candy, and lightening our pack of remaining snacks before the grueling plunge back to the valley floor.

鈥淒o you want to do this again next year?鈥� she asked in between gummys.
鈥淵ou know, I鈥檝e been thinking that I鈥檓 done,鈥� I replied as I sipped whiskey.

We were ending.

Of course, we told each other we would return again one day, but in our silences, we had come to a mutual understanding that something was different. There are myriad of reasons why this year was the last for a while: the high amount of traffic on the trail, the familiarity of the sights, the absence of mistakes, and therefore, challenges. Personally, too, my mind was no longer challenged in the same way. The past had absolutely been a physical challenge, but also a mental one as I learned to quiet my mind through the 14 hours and get back into my body. I looked forward to this time to reset every year鈥擨 needed it. This time, though, I was just present to what was around me.I had come home to my mind.

As I sit now, I realize that I had thought that this meant the mountain had nothing left to teach me. I had learned my lessons, I had passed the test.

But this, now, is the final lesson: To leave, to end, to finish, to say goodbye.

It seems no coincidence that in the same year that I end with The Enchantments I am also ending my time as a student. I am no longer being called back to the mountain in the same way that I am no longer being called back to the red brick building. Or, if it is a calling, I am refusing to go (sorry, John Muir, but I鈥檒l keep listening) because I know how important it is to end now.

In my final month in the building, I had written an essay about endings. I meant to submit it to the blog; it was a eulogy to my time as a student and employee at the school. I wrote about how frantic I had become at the end, trying to prepare for the future after school while missing out on what was in front of me. I was antsy, like I had been in the Enchantments, just wanting to skip to what was next and avoid the pain in front of me. The way forward, as I learned in the mountains, was to slow down and be present to the wonder around me. So then I wrote about how I would see groups of friends together around the old coffee-maker altar (how many times have we fellowshipped there?) and how I would have a jolt of awareness that this would no longer exist in a few months. It was ending. I was leaning into savoring the precious moments I had left.

We all know what happens next: COVID-19. We have all collectively had the breath knocked out of us in our particular griefs that have opened up from this pandemic. I feel speechless and gasping still, all of the words I had wanted to say feel empty and painful. The old essay is full of hope and goodness and poetry. It is not wrong, but it is no longer representative of what this particular ending means to me, to many of us.

So instead, like I do every summer, I return to the mountain which remains steadfast and faithful in a way only nature can right now. If I can summit that mountain in search of beauty despite the pain, I know I can end my time as a student and the plethora of endings and meanings that come with that simple act. And I can say: thank you. Thank you for allowing me to tread on your sacred and fragile terrain so that I may become whole again. Thank you for letting me fall in love with the world and myself again. Thank you for teaching me about my strength. Thank you for allowing me to curse you and stomp on you and still be welcomed into holy places. Thank you for being my prayer when I could no longer pray. In the words of the President of 天美视频, 鈥淭hank you, thank you, thank you.鈥�

The post On Ending and Enchantment appeared first on 天美视频 of Theology & Psychology.

While our bodies and souls ache with the recent abuses of power, we also recognize them as the most recent manifestation of a system that is older than our country. Our collective healing is tied to repentance and to the dismantling of systemic injustice and fear that continues to horrifically terrorize and target Black and Brown bodies. The work before us is immense, urgent, and important.

Faith communities have a vital role in cultural transformation. Churches are a source for many of us to discern God鈥檚 hopes for humanity, to align our desire with God鈥檚, and to reorient ourselves towards the pursuit of that vision.

We are aware that, although we long for more diversity, 天美视频 community is predominantly white. With that in mind, we compiled resources for churches that are predominantly white to engage race, no matter where they are in the conversation. In this era, perhaps churches can join not only the lament of the oppressed, and also make active progress towards the invitation to justice and peace.

Starting Places for Small Group Discussion

Articles

鈥�,鈥� from Women of the ELCA, is an 11-page guide for a process and tools for race conversations.

For a leadership team, 鈥�,鈥� adapted by Scott Winn. This document names components of dominant culture that are often invisible to those who live in it; it points out the air we breathe. Where do these components feel true of your congregation鈥檚 culture? What other options might you cultivate? Follow-up with 鈥�,鈥� adapted by Partners for Collaborative Change.

Books

has anti-racism reading lists for , , , and .

, by Resmaa Menakem. He addresses three audiences concurrently: white people, black/brown people, and law enforcement officers. For each, he not only teaches theory but also guides through practices for healing our bodies in order to heal relationships and communities.

by Adrian Pei illustrates examples of white supremacy and racism through leadership in a ministry setting. Recommended for use with a leadership team.

by Jemar Tisby addresses the American Church鈥檚 complicity in racism by examining the history of Christianity in the United States.

Videos & Movies

BlacKkKlansman is not only entertaining, its characters provide multiple entry points into conversations on race, culture, and law enforcement.

In addition to the book, The Color of Compromise by Jemar Tisby is also a.

Trainings and Experiences

, from The United Church of Christ, is a free, downloadable curriculum for white faith communities wishing to “engage in safe, meaningful, substantive, and bold conversations on race.鈥�

provides culturally relevant professional development, keynotes, consulting, coaching and one-on-one diversity leadership support to organizations committed to improving their ability to work effectively across cultures.

exists to establish healthy multiethnic, economically diverse, socially just churches.

facilitates conversations and trainings for congregations to address race issues within the community.

When travel re-opens, consider a group pilgrimage to the in Montgomery, Alabama. Dr. J. Derek McNeil writes about his experience here.

Resources for Children & Youth Engagement

has resources to inform children about race, including , , , , and .

Theologies and Frameworks for Pastors

Videos

Dr. Soong-Chan Rah on , and the following .

Dr. Angela Parker (former professor at 天美视频) on , and calling us to resist being a chaplain of the empire.

In their final year of school, students in our Master of Arts in Theology & Culture and Master of Divinity programs create an integrative project 鈥� our version of a master鈥檚 thesis. Some of this year鈥檚 projects are on:

• (links go to 10-minute video presentations of their work)

Relevant projects from previous years include:

Alumni gather annually in Symposia to share what they鈥檝e learned while 鈥渟erving God and neighbor through transforming relationships鈥� in 20-minute presentations. Relevant topics:

• Redeeming Identity in a Rapidly Changing Context

Books, Articles, and Lists

We curated this list of theologians and women of color who are at the forefront of conversations about womanist theology, gender, feminism, and race in the church.

by James Cone marries practical theology and social justice work.

by Linda Royster, identifying Christ as the 鈥渟uffocating Son of Man,鈥� present with those whose breath is cut off at the hands of government systems.

Because law enforcement disproportionately kills African-Americans, and addressing that discrepancy is an urgent need, these resources are largely about the Black experience. We recognize that healing must also be done with Native, Latin American, and Asian American bodies, history, and culture, perhaps especially here in the Pacific Northwest. Because we know our community is primarily white, and because it is white people鈥檚 fear that puts black and brown bodies in danger, these resources also discuss white identity and show white bodies doing the work of engaging race.

We recognize that this is not a comprehensive list of resources. Send an email to submissions@theseattleschool.edu to let us know what you would add.聽

The post Anti-Racism Resources for White-Majority Churches appeared first on 天美视频 of Theology & Psychology.

This, of course, is not the first time I have been overwhelmed with grief as I mourn the senseless deaths of black men and women. One moment comes to my mind quite poignantly, as it links the past and the present. In 2015, I traveled with my wife to Montgomery, Alabama to be in conversations with a mixed-race group about racial trauma and incarceration. One afternoon we were asked to travel to the site of a lynching in Elmore County in the town of Wetumpka that occurred on June 17th, 1898. I found myself overcome with grief, on my knees in the dirt filling two-gallon jars with the brown and grey clay of Alabama soil. We filled four jars, each stenciled with a name, a city, and a date. The names belonged to the four black men lynched together that day.聽

A hundred and seventeen years later, we had traveled to Wetumpka, Alabama to remember and honor these men whose lives were taken for unknown reasons. The remembering of these men was both an act of defiance and reverence, linking them to us, as we sang, prayed, and cried for Ham Thompson, Reese Thompson, Louis Spier, and Solomon Jackson.聽

Those four names are joined by more each day, and were preceded by millions before them. The names stretch out and feel endless as we attempt to remember them, know their lives, and honor their stories…Ahmaud Arbery, Breonna Taylor, Tony McDade, and George Floyd.

As someone who studies change, I know that some change can only come from disruption and disorder. While I do not condone or support violent expressions, I understand the need to re-affirm that the killings must stop. I was struck by the words of Max Bailey, a protester in Denver: 鈥淚f you can tell me something better for me to do鈥攊f you can tell me a way that we could change the world without trying to make noise like that, then I鈥檒l get out of the streets鈥� (CNN, Madeline Holcomb, 2020).

The tragedy is that we have yet to find the ways to make for justice and peace. None of us鈥攃onservative, progressive, or anywhere in between鈥攃an fully answer the question of how to find justice and peace for a nation toiling with its original sin of slavery.聽

To call for peace without justice mutes the message of Jesus, decontextualizing the violence his body suffered and abstracting the tree he hung on, cheapens grace. Our hope is not in that Jesus escaped the humiliation, torture, and death, but that his death wasn鈥檛 the end of the story. Death will not be the end of our story.

Now, we have hard work in front of us. As a nation, we are at a crossroads. The status of our mistrust and divisions will tear us apart and we will not recover. This society will not hold together through coercion nor anarchy, but only through the rebuilding of trust. This means enemies must begin to hear truths from each other, and consistent action must be taken to lower the threat of harm to each other. There must be those who hold the center ground, those who can mediate a different relationship, those who can help us see past the splitting, those who offer a different love. We must be those who hear the gospel of Jesus as both a message of justice and grace.

We know that justice is not ultimately found in the streets. This is about being heard and being tired in the worst expressions of our trauma and rage.

The system will only change with the engagement of former combatants, those who believe that their very existence is linked together.聽

When I came to this little school, my hope was that we would come to see our mission as more than training people to be therapists, pastors, social entrepreneurs, and artists. My hope was that we might learn to equip people to become agents of change鈥攍eaders in a movement through transforming relationships and mending society. My hope is that we might train people to serve others in healing their trauma鈥攏ot just from their own life and story, but the generational trauma carried in and between their bodies. I believe in this mission and have hope for the mending and re-weaving of the fabric of society.聽

This is an extension of our mission into the world: serving God and neighbor through transforming relationships.聽

May we be people of faith who do justice, love mercy, and walk humbly with our God. May our prayers not only be words鈥攎ay our prayers move into our hands and feet in service to our neighbor. May our cries for justice extend into our relationships and the fabric of our communities.聽

The post The Work Ahead of Us: Addressing Racial Trauma and Systemic Injustices appeared first on 天美视频 of Theology & Psychology.

These words of the prophet Jeremiah situate themselves in a devastating part of Judah鈥檚 history鈥攖he destruction of Jerusalem. As it lay in ruins, Jeremiah speaks of what the community is collectively grieving in the death of their beloved city and the thrust into exile for the third time.聽 They are a people desperate for hope. For restoration. For shalom. says that, 鈥淪halom requires lament鈥� because its very nature is to 鈥渆mbrace the suffering other.鈥�¹ In a time when we as God’s people yearn for a collective shalom, we are reminded that we must first enter into a collective lament.

On April 8, 天美视频鈥檚 Sacred Space group hosted a virtual lament service to create a space for individual and collective mourning over the losses of what we knew as life. Faculty, staff and students gathered to see the faces of the suffering other and to collectively lament鈥攊n song, word, and prayer. We ended our time by praying through a poem by Christine Valters Painter, pausing at each stanza to write the names of those heavy on our hearts, to write our laments, our pain, our grave sense of scattered losses. It was a raw and beautiful time to pour our hearts out like water in the presence of the Lord.

During the service, artist and alumnus Kate Creech ² acted as a witness to our community lament and created this piece of art to hold our feelings of confusion, anger, and grief. As she scrolled through the suffering faces and words of those in attendance, her brushstrokes acted as 鈥渆xpressions of what was both spoken and unspoken.鈥� We are grateful for her witness and illustration of this sacred evening.聽

Artwork by Kate Creech

While the service is over, our lament is not. Grief will continue to come in waves as we endure the changes we have been forced to adapt to and as we long for the presence of the ones we live life with the most.聽聽

How are you grieving? In what creative and available ways have you found for your bodies to express its pain?聽 Kate reminds us that artistic expressions can act as a mouthpiece for our souls鈥� greatest afflictions, containers for our unspeakable laments. We stand suspended in a time that knows not its return to life as we knew it. As you hold these tensions and uncertainties, know that our is necessary to see our shalom.聽聽聽

Sacred Space is curating a virtual gallery to offer space to communally share how we are processing in this season. We would love to be witnesses to the ways you have been showing up with yourself to grieve and lament.聽 to submit a photo of your art, a written piece, a recording of you playing music, or any other form of processing. In the coming weeks you can visit the Intersections blog to see artists highlighted.

The post A Lament: Processing Amidst a Pandemic appeared first on 天美视频 of Theology & Psychology.

She didn鈥檛 plan to build, there was the hope that maybe she could inherit the family home, the one that鈥檚 been passed down through generations.

But the thing is…the home is older and wearier and rotting out. There are deep cracks in the foundation, the kind that make the house lean into the dusty earth a little more each day. Really, it鈥檚 not even a house anymore, just some hollowed out and ancient ruins on a lonely ground.

There鈥檚 sorrow here. Hope feels it burning through her hands as she runs them along the battered stones. , too. Maybe you feel it. I do.

As we move into this new year and decade, your anger is welcome. These ruins are here but we can see them, glory to God. It鈥檚 okay to weep with Hope as we tear down something that might have been beautiful in its time. This is dangerous work, it鈥檚 gonna make our hands bleed and our feet ache. But it鈥檚 good work, the kind of work for the courageous and desperate ones. It鈥檚 work for those of us who are done with putting up with, those of us who are cold and wet from living in old homes where the rain gets in the cracks and the foundations tremble when the thunder comes. It鈥檚 for those of us who have a fire burning in our bones that no longer lets us remain silent or cry peace when there is none to be found. It鈥檚 for those of us who long to dance on the ancient ruins and play in the broken places because really, we鈥檙e just little ones looking for home.

Hope can remind us that within the grains of these old walls, there is the possibility for something new.

If within the broken places, then here is where we can make a home. We can plant a garden. We can root our bare toes into this soil, and tend to baby trees. We can join together with the friends of Hope to build communities where our children can play in the streets. We鈥檒l sit on our doorsteps with our lovers and wine and say this is home, this is home, this is home.

The post Hope appeared first on 天美视频 of Theology & Psychology.

No new news and nothing notable to think on beyond your song, Mary. The angel Gabriel visited you to announce a birth and I am sure you could have handled any announcement, but it wasn鈥檛 any announcement, and it would require you to walk in love and not fear.

I see fear everywhere, Mary. I see it on the faces of my neighbors, the political poster boards I drive by, the TV news headlines, my coworkers who face racism and classism, clients struggling to be free of pimps, and undisguised violence. If I focus here for too long, I forget you sang.

I don鈥檛 have a song this morning. The leftover night-lights of Seattle glitter. A future clear sky is lit by a pre-wakening sun in red, orange, and pink tones against the darkness still covering our Northwest morning. There are rows of vinyl bench seats covered in dirt from early morning commuters. Faces look down at books, screens, or the floor. People make subtle efforts to avoid the gaze of one another on the 6:20 a.m. ferry from Bainbridge Island to Seattle.

An hour earlier I was inside my frigid home, beneath warm covers, next to the regular breathing my husband of 17 years. We lay in silence. I felt hot tears spring to my eyes at the thought of leaving his presence and commencing the normal Monday routine. His breathing grumbles in protest of our coming separation. Supposedly, we are used to my graduate school routine. I am not. Sure, I look forward to classes, enjoy clients, and the adrenaline of the unknown; however, I don鈥檛 look forward to breaking this communion on Monday mornings.

So, instead of rising with the first round of alarm beeps, I lie still, suspending myself somewhere between his breathing and rising from bed.

Mary, How did you glorify a Lord who would put you in line to lose the most precious gift a mother could have 鈥� to use your first pregnancy to be something you would watch come to be a magnet of hate, terror, fear, and war-mongering? I scream as no one can hear me. I yell at systems contrived to keep some out and some in. Power鈥檚 greedy appetite does not hide in pretense, it does not need to.

I heard you say;
鈥淥h, how my soul praises the Lord.
47 How my spirit rejoices in God my Savior!
48 For he took notice of his lowly servant girl,
and from now on all generations will call me blessed.
49 For the Mighty One is holy,
and he has done great things for me.
50 He shows mercy from generation to generation
to all who fear him.鈥�
(Luke 1:47-50)

And, you were chosen. You were humble. You said yes. You woke that morning and needed to be with someone, and so you went. You sang sweet tones of hope to your cousin, Elizabeth. You knew fear lurked at your door, with the political, social, religious and fledgling violence around you 鈥� someone needed to be willing to push back the darkness. You didn鈥檛 push it back because anyone doubted you. No, Mary, I see your belief, casting out fear, through the song and warrior resistance to every doubter who would soon come your way.

You spoke truth to your cousin 鈥� to the heavens 鈥� a truth that lingers in 2019.

I remember who and what lives inside of me.

鈥淛esus, Jesus, you make the darkness tremble. Jesus, you silence fear鈥esus, you make the darkness tremble鈥our name is alive, forever lifted high鈥�. your name cannot be overcome鈥�.鈥�

The Seattle skyline cannot overcome the bold beauty of majestic mountains and red skies on any winter morning, and especially not this one. Red and orange tones deepen behind the mountains announcing hope and proclaiming freedom. Beauty resonates in brilliance this morning, pushing back the cranes and furious construction continuing to shape the financial future of many on this early ferry. So, Mary, I find my song between brokenness and beauty, in the margins, in the pain. Your song hovers over deep waters, echoes in the trees, lifting my heart, increasing the anticipation of your son鈥檚 return.

The post Mary’s Song Overcomes appeared first on 天美视频 of Theology & Psychology.

When Heather received her cancer diagnosis, she knew this was not a road that she could walk alone. So, somewhat on a whim, she got a Wonder Woman costume to match her daughter鈥檚 Halloween costume, and she wore it to her first day of chemotherapy. A friend, Bridget Beth Collins ( on Instagram), created a plant-based portrait of Wonder Woman for Heather, and #chemowonderwoman was born.

Soon, Heather鈥檚 friends and family were spreading the word and wearing Wonder Woman shirts in support, along with teachers from her kids鈥� school and strangers from around the country鈥擧eather shares in particular about a grandmother in Ohio who prays for Heather every day even though they have never met. Even Gal Gadot, star of the hit Wonder Woman film, for Heather.

鈥淚 just felt really carried, I felt really held by hundreds of people I鈥檝e never met.鈥�

Heather tells Shauna that while she was grateful her journey could inspire and encourage so many people, she also launched out of her own need for support. 鈥淚 need people alongside of me, to cheer for me, to be with me in this,鈥� she says. 鈥淚 can鈥檛 do this alone. I can鈥檛 do this even with just my small family tribe. I really need to, in some ways, open myself up to receive more help. I need connection and care.鈥� In that spirit, her friends told her, 鈥淵ou鈥檝e got this. We鈥檝e got you.鈥� It鈥檚 a truth that flies in the face of our cultural 鈥減ull yourself up by your bootstraps鈥� mentality: We need each other.

Shauna: 鈥淵ou allowed us all to experience something of your beauty in the midst of this seemingly daunting race鈥攖he way that you鈥檙e able to go after the experience of suffering with such play is profound to me.鈥�

Shauna shares that she can feel joy in her body, almost to an unfamiliar degree, when she鈥檚 with Heather, when she witnesses Heather鈥檚 鈥渃ome with me鈥� posture that is vulnerable, courageous, and infectious. Heather reflects on the intentional choice to hold onto her hope in beauty and goodness, even in the midst of darkness鈥攏ot in denial of the darkness, but in defiance of it. She shares how that posture is informed by the world around her, including the beautifully stubborn life in her garden, and by her eschatological hope in a new heaven and new earth.

Heather: 鈥淥ur body wants to heal. I really, really believe that, even more strongly after all this treatment than I did before. I talk about that as a gardener too: the plants are on your side, they want to live.鈥�

Shauna: 鈥淚 feel like the hope isn鈥檛 just optimism. It鈥檚 rooted in your theological framework, but it鈥檚 also rooted in your trust of creation鈥攖he plants want to grow, your body wants to heal. There鈥檚 this sort of rooted hope and trust in the evidence of life always moving toward goodness or growth or healing or wholeness.鈥�

Heather: 鈥淚t doesn鈥檛 mean that I believe with an optimism that every single story ends in healing and being alive here until you鈥檙e 95. That鈥檚 what I want my story to be, and I want that for everyone, and yet also knowing that we don鈥檛 have a guarantee of that. But we do have a guarantee that God is good, and that he has created us, and he has made us for more than we realize.鈥�

Heather shares how, at the time of this recording, there was no longer any evidence of cancer in her body. The journey of healing now offered a new challenge: The sprint for survival was over, and now she was facing the marathon of the rest of her life鈥攖he hard work of emotional healing after being so close to the experience of human fragility and finitude.

鈥淚鈥檓 going to have to suffer through being faithful here on this broken and beautiful earth.鈥�

Heather: 鈥淭hat鈥檚 what it means to be vulnerable. This is what it means to be human. I鈥檓 going to sit with that, and I鈥檓 going to accept that God, in all his goodness, is with me in the middle of the vulnerability, in the middle of when it鈥檚 scary, in the middle of when you feel blindsided by something.鈥�

Resources to Go Deeper

• You can follow the next chapters of Heather鈥檚 journey on Instagram 鈥攌eep an eye on , too!
• Shauna mentions that this conversation reminds her of the work of writer Annie Dillard. For a hauntingly beautiful example of Dillard鈥檚 writing about how the chaos of nature confronts us with the deepest parts of ourselves, check out her 1982 essay
• Parts of this conversation bring to mind the work of artist Makoto Fujimura, who wrestles with the role of beauty in the wake of tragedy and destruction. We鈥檇 especially recommend his inspired by Shusaku Endo鈥檚 book of the same name, and his , which 鈥渞eflects my journey with T.S. Eliot, and Dante, to recover my imaginative vision during the aftermath of 9/11/2001, living in ground zero, New York City.鈥�
• At the end of this episode, Kate Fontana, a Master of Divinity student, shares her poem 鈥淎n Imbolc Call.鈥� This poem is part of the latest issue of LIT, a student-run literary magazine that gets published here at 天美视频. You can read the full issue at .

The post Cultivating Hope with #ChemoWonderWoman Heather Abbott appeared first on 天美视频 of Theology & Psychology.

All these works of art imagine the first Good Friday. They capture the range of emotions that Christians feel on this dark day, allowing us to place ourselves in the person of Mary who mourned her dead child. There is surely no grief more profound than the grief parents feel at the death of a child. It is unnatural for the younger to die before the older. The profound grief of the mother of Jesus models for believers a response to the unnatural death of this one whom they also love.

None of the Gospels, however, suggests that Mary carried the crucified body of Jesus. According to all four Gospels, Joseph of Arimathea is given permission by Pilate to bury Jesus, and he puts the body in a secure tomb (Matt. 27:57鈥�60, Mark 15:42鈥�47, Luke 23:50鈥�55, John 19:38鈥�42). To care for the dead was an important religious observance, as John鈥檚 Gospel tells us (John 19:31), and as archaeology and other Jewish literature of the period confirm (3). Joseph, a respected Jewish leader, a good and righteous man, undertakes this religious duty for the crucified Jesus (Mark 15:43 and Luke 23:50). There are, of course, paintings of Joseph, but he does not hold the place in our imaginations that Mary holds.

According to the first three Gospels, this Mary isn鈥檛 even present when Joseph takes Jesus down from the cross. Matthew tells us that Mary Magdalene and the other Mary, a woman without any particular pedigree, watched Joseph put Jesus in the tomb, sitting opposite it (Matt. 27:61). Mark gives us some information about the other Mary鈥攕he is the mother of Joses (Mark 15:47). Luke says that the women who watched Joseph were the ones who had followed Jesus from Galilee, and later he identifies these women as Mary Magdalene, Joanna, Mary the mother of James, and some unnamed others (Luke 23:55 and 24:10). And in John鈥檚 Gospel, it is Nicodemus who helps Joseph of Arimathea bury Jesus, not Mary, the mother of Jesus (John 19:39).

This image of a grieving mother that has so captured the Christian imagination does, however, have roots in the Gospel of John. In all four Gospels, there are women watching at the crucifixion (Matt. 27:55鈥�56, Mark 15:40鈥�41, Luke 23:49, and John 19:25), but only in John鈥檚 Gospel do we observe the mother of Jesus among those women. John tells us that just before Jesus dies, as his final action, he commends the care of his beloved disciple to his mother and the care of his mother to his beloved disciple (John 19:26鈥�27). Tradition has identified the beloved disciple as John, but in the gospel account, neither John nor Mary are named. Rather, both are identified by their relation to Jesus: she is called his mother, and he is called the disciple whom Jesus loved. It is this story that gives rise to the images of a mother grieving for her son and to John鈥檚 presence with her at the cross.

In John鈥檚 Gospel, Mary鈥檚 identity is both less definite and more important than in the other Gospels. On the one hand, we never learn her name in this gospel. When we read of her presence among the vigilant women at the foot of the cross and when Jesus commends her to John, her particular identity is obscured, as if her identity has been absorbed into her role as mother of the crucified one. She is not made present in this crucifixion narrative as a particular Mary鈥攚hom we would need to distinguish from other women of that name鈥攂ut as the woman who brought into the world the one who is now leaving the world.

We also do not meet Mary in this gospel as a woman with a baby. Instead, we first meet her as a woman enmeshed in family and community with a grown son. She is attending a wedding in the town of Cana in the region of Galilee (John 2:1鈥�11). Jesus and the disciples whom he had gathered before the wedding are there with her. The caterer has run out of wine, so the mother of Jesus asks him to help. Jesus puts her off鈥攊t is not the right time for him to host a wedding banquet. But she insists, and eventually Jesus complies. He turns the water in six large jars鈥攅ach holding twenty or thirty gallons鈥攊nto good wine, and the wedding celebration continues in style. Throughout this account, Mary is called 鈥渢he mother of Jesus鈥� or less intimately, 鈥淲oman.鈥� We do not learn her name.

The third explicit mention of her in the gospel is when Jesus鈥檚 opponents complain about Jesus鈥檚 claim that he is the bread from heaven (John 6:41鈥�42). They argue that they know his parents, so, clearly, Jesus has not come from heaven. They dismiss him with the words: 鈥淚s not this Jesus, the son of Joseph, whose father and mother we know?鈥� (NRSV). Even here, Joseph is named, but Mary is not. In whatever way Jesus鈥檚 mother matters for this gospel, her particular identity is obscured.

On the other hand, the miracle at the wedding of Cana is the first sign of Jesus鈥檚 glory. His mother鈥檚 insistence that he contribute wine for the feast leads to Jesus鈥檚 first act in his public ministry. And the commendation of John to Mary and vice versa is Jesus鈥檚 last act before his death. Jesus鈥檚 mother is clearly very important to John鈥檚 story. She bookends his public ministry, invoking its beginning with her expectation that he will act on behalf of the wedding party and entering into a new relationship with the unnamed disciple at its end.

This is a very different portrait from what we find in Luke鈥檚 writings, where Mary also has a significant role. When we encounter Mary in Luke鈥檚 Gospel, we meet a young woman whose life is being interrupted by an angel. The angel asks her to join God in God鈥檚 redemptive purposes for the world. And she gives her consent. This is a comfortable image, even if it is also benevolently patriarchal. God, the higher being, comes to Mary, the lesser being, to ask her to do what only a woman can do: bear the child who will save the world. And Mary, having been given the grace to participate in the purposes of God, assents to God鈥檚 plan. As a result, she has a singular vocation as the mother of God in the history of salvation. She is Mary, the one that all generations will call blessed (Luke 1:48).

Her singular identity, derived from her particular role, is softened somewhat later in Luke鈥檚 Gospel when a woman in the crowd following Jesus suggests that Mary is particularly blessed for having born and nursed him. Jesus responds that those are blessed who hear the word of God and obey it (Luke 11:27鈥�28). In fact, Mary is both blessed by the woman from the crowd for her unique role and blessed by Jesus for the way this unique role models an obedient response to God. In Acts, which is also believed to be the work of Luke, we find Mary praying in the upper room, a disciple among disciples, waiting for the promised Holy Spirit who would empower them all for mission (Acts 1:14). But even here, she is named.

John鈥檚 Gospel starts in a different way. He announces that 鈥渋n the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God and the Word was God鈥� (John 1:1). The Word was active in the creation of all things and became human and joined our community, shining in our darkness. There is no thought here of a woman contributing to the grand purposes of God. There is a man sent from God to witness to the light, but that man is John the Baptist. God is active accomplishing God鈥檚 purposes in God鈥檚 own way, with no mention of Mary. Neither does the ending of John鈥檚 Gospel mention her. Mary Magdalene, Simon Peter, Thomas the Twin, Nathanael of Cana, the sons of Zebedee, two others of the disciples, and the disciple whom Jesus loved all see and converse with the resurrected Jesus, but Mary is not a part of his resurrection ministry.

So how is it that, despite the evidence of the Gospels, the image of the grieving mother has so captured our imaginations? Have I drawn an entirely faithful picture of her role in John鈥檚 Gospel?

Something else needs to be said. I believe that Mary captures our imaginations because we can believe she is like us. It was her catering problem that provided the impetus for Jesus鈥檚 public ministry. It was her loss of a son that Jesus responded to at the end of his earthly life. The 笔颈别迟脿 invites us to join her in her grief because we can believe that we grieve as she grieved. In these stories about Jesus鈥檚 mother in John鈥檚 Gospel, we are not invited to participate in God鈥檚 story鈥攖hat is Luke鈥檚 invitation鈥攊nstead, we see that God comes to participate in our story. When her friends need more wine, their need is met and there is an abundance of good wine. In her grief at the death of her child, she is given one who will care for her. It is easy to read our lives into the life of this unnamed one who is so like us, who calls on her son to create abundant life instead of scarcity and who was so cared for by him in her sorrow. We are grateful to know that our needs and our sorrows are sufficient invitation for God to come near.

In his Farewell Discourse, as he anticipated his death and separation from his disciples, Jesus comforted them with an image of a woman giving birth (John 16:20鈥�22) (4). He reminded them that in the hour of a woman鈥檚 labor, she has pain and anguish, just like the disciples are experiencing as they anticipate Jesus鈥檚 absence. But when the birth has been accomplished, the woman forgets the pain because of her joy in the new life of the person born. As Jesus leaves his earthly life, attending to the grief of his mother, he dies as one anticipating vindication, as a woman in labor who anticipates the joy of new life. His teaching is embodied by his mother.

And so his mother becomes not only the one with whom we identify in sorrow but also a model of hope for life and joy beyond sorrow. Mary becomes an archetype for all of us in our need and in our afflictions, and even more, as mother, in our hope for new life. If one must be born from above to enter the kingdom of God, as Jesus said to Nicodemus, the mother of Jesus guides us through that birthing process, standing at the foot of the cross (John 3:7). Grace and truth, and glory, become present like wine at Cana (John 1:14). The deep sadness of losing a child becomes the foundation for new relationships. At the point of great suffering, Jesus responds to her overwhelming loss.

To say it another way, in John鈥檚 Gospel, it is our need that evokes God鈥檚 action. And God鈥檚 action is for abundant life鈥攅ven death on a cross. We grieve with his mother, and we are comforted because Jesus comforted her. By speaking of this woman as Jesus鈥檚 mother rather than identifying her as a particular woman, John calls us into an intimate relationship with God, into an affiliation that we also can inhabit because of our own need. This is in contrast to Luke, where Mary is presented as fulfilling a unique role in God鈥檚 plan of salvation, a role that does not need repetition. In this way, the mother of Jesus teaches us what to do with Holy Friday. She allows us to dwell in the grief of the world as God-bearers, watching as the light of the world is extinguished. As children of light we experience the scarcity of our existence and long for abundance. She teaches us to weep and to pray. And we know that our grief is enough because, in our tears and our prayers, we are as the woman who gave birth, the woman to whom God responded with wine and companionship. We too anticipate joy because we are confident that our tears and sorrow enjoin light and life to come to us.

This post was originally published at .

1. Timothy Verdon, Mary in Western Art, captions by Filippo Rossi (New York, NY: Hudson Hills, 2005), 140鈥�64.
2. Michelangelo Buonarroti, 笔颈别迟脿, c. 1498-1500, marble sculpture, ; Giovanni Bellini, 笔颈别迟脿 Martinengo, c. 1505, oil on panel,; Andrea Mantegna, Lamentation of Christ, c. 1480, tempera on canvas, ; Sandro Botticelli, Lamentation over the Dead Christ with Saints, c. 1490鈥�1495, tempera on panel, ; Enguerrand Quarton, 笔颈别迟脿 of Villeneuve-l猫s-Avignon, c. 1460鈥�1470, oil on wood, .
3. See Byron R. McCane, 鈥淏urial Practices in First Century Palestine,鈥� Bible Odyssey, .
4. Judith Lieu helpfully brings this passage into the discussion of Mary in the Gospel of John in 鈥淭he Mother of the Son in the Fourth Gospel,鈥� Journal of Biblical Literature 117 (1998): 61鈥�77, especially 70鈥�74.

The post Like an Unnamed Woman appeared first on 天美视频 of Theology & Psychology.