youth

Support for Transgender Folk

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The Pittsburgh Tribune-Review recently published two opinion pieces: “Bending gender in sports” by L. Brent Bozell III (11/28/10) and “Choosing one’s TSA groper” by Ralph R. Reiland (11/29/10).  Sadly, both articles chose to use ill-informed sarcasm and generally snarky tones to portray transgender folk as some new enemy for people to fear.

I drafted the following letter to the editor and submitted it for publication on behalf of the Westmoreland County LGBTQ Interfaith Network, a group of clergy and lay people who affirm the spirituality of all LBGTQ people and their friends and allies.  With a limit of 200 words, the challenge was daunting, but I hope it makes a good first step in promoting education and compassion in the region.

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To the editor:

Two recent opinion pieces cruelly vilified transgender people, oversimplifying this complex issue. We encourage fairer and more balanced dialogue.

Our culture limits its understanding of sex to male and female, and gender to man and woman. “Transgender” as an umbrella term describes other gender identities. Specifically, transgender people are born one sex, but self-identify as a different gender. Many simply live their identity as crossdressers, third gender, or genderqueer.

Transsexuals actually make the physical transition from one sex to another. This well-defined procedure involves surgery and years of hormone treatment and psychiatric therapy.

Perhaps one in every 1,500 births results in an intersex child, in which both sexes are present. The Intersex Society of North America recommends assigning a gender without surgery, using medical procedures to sustain good physical health until the child can later decide on a gender identity.

Transgender folk do not make gender identity decisions frivolously. People deserve respect for their identities and labels they choose, particularly when making choices that result in discrimination. As marvelous creations in a wondrous universe, every person has inherent worth and dignity. Compassionate responses include first educating ourselves to facts, not allowing unfounded bias and fear to dictate our judgment.

Jeff Liebmann (Consulting Minister, Unitarian Universalist Congregation of Smithton) writing for the Westmoreland LGBTQ Interfaith Network

Funding for Continental Youth Programming

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Apparently funding for continental youth leadership by the UUA will end in June 2008, according to a letter from the YRUU Steering Committee. As a former adult-at-large member of Youth Council with 15 years of experience in youth work in our denomination, I read this announcement with mixed feelings.

Recent directions in Young Religious Unitarian Universalists at the continental level have distressed me. For instance, I have disagreed with the prioritization of anti-racism and anti-oppression work above all other objectives, particularly given the methodology used by the training during the late 1990’s and early part of this decade. I have read with increasing dismay the conclusions of the Consultation to and with Youth on Youth Ministry, seeing between the lines a carefully scripted agenda.

Continental YRUU leadership was not perfect by any means. However, eliminating Youth Council and throwing the leadership of our movement to the district and congregational level is a mistake. Youth ministry depends heavily on the encouragement and sustaining of strong leaders, both youth and adult. A congregation can consider itself fortunate to have more than one such leader. Even districts can be challenged to find people willing to shoulder the burden of sustaining healthy and thriving youth programming.

I have been involved in the Youth Adult Committee of the Ohio-Meadville District for many years and consider it to be an example of a quality program of youth ministry. But, even our program has teetered occasionally, depending perhaps too heavily on the devotion of a handful of dedicated people who too often suffer burnout from the stress.

A key problem with this decision is that it disempowers a ministry that traditionally must fight for legitimacy. At the congregational and district levels, there exist too many people who fundamentally disagree with the philosophy of youth programming in our denomination and who constantly challenge our right to host conferences and other activities. Youth empowerment is not a universally accepted ideal in our denomination, even in a district with a solid record like mine. Continental Youth Council, even functioning less than effectively, provides a legitimacy — a recognition that the denomination supports our importance and our philosophy.

One point lost in this decision are the indirect benefits of the existence of continental youth leadership. Let me provide a personal example. Right now, there are a significant number of students pursuing Unitarian Universalist ministry at Meadville Lombard Theological School whose call came through their work in youth ministry. One fellow student served on Youth Council with me. Another I met at a YRUU Chaplain training. Many of us have experience as advisors. Who knows how many youth who have served on Youth Council have gone on to positions of leadership in our denomination who might not otherwise have done so?

Another point is one near and dear to my heart. As a writer of religious education curricula, I have advocated for many years that churches provide junior and senior high youth with more educational opportunities. I wish I had a dollar for every youth or advisor who said to me how sick they were of just coming to church every Sunday and doing nothing but checking in. Without a visible force of youth leadership at the continental level, I cannot see this situation improving. While moving the control of youth programming to the local levels sounds noble on paper, I fear that for many churches, this means that youth programming will wither and die. This is one reason why a group of us recently proposed the establishment of a youth ministry course at Meadville Lombard.

At this point, all I can do is continue to advocate for stronger youth ministry programming whenever I can. Wherever I go as minister, I plan to be directly involved with the youth of my church. I strongly promote that all seminarians and ministers consider a similar commitment.

Reaching Across the Generations

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I have been enormously tardy posting lately as life has been intervening. Between searching for an internship site, preparing for classes, leading two worship services this week, and actually working at my University job, things have been hectic. I’ve also spent a good deal of time lately talking with my 21-year-old son. Probably the hardest part about parenting is watching your children struggle to find their way in the world. I just want to swoop down and solve every problem and provide every answer. But, I know those are the worst things to do if you want your children to become mature and responsible adults, fully equipped to explore the joy, the angst, and the fulfillment of life.

Like many young adults his age, he is searching for a life path and a career that matches his talents and desires with at least the ability to keep himself reasonably fed and sheltered. One thing he enjoys is poetry. Now, this is one area that I am particularly inept at providing much assistance. I have never been much of a poetry fan – “The Cremation of Sam Magee” is a personal favorite – so I feel relatively useless providing him with much in the way of support. Like me, though, he thinks big and likes to envision art in large scope. His ideas for novels start out as trilogies and his film ideas are 24-hour marathons.

But, I had an idea that combined my love of sermon writing with his poetic muse. I though it would be interesting if we exchanged pieces of our work and then wrote accompanying pieces – he would give me a poem and I would write a homily, and I would give him a sermon and he would write a poem. If we could put together enough examples, I even imagined that this might be something that Skinner House might consider publishing.

So, here is our first crack at this project. We would love to hear any feedback. What did it make you think? Do you like the format? Would you read more?
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My Brother’s Dreams
Tyler and Jeff Liebmann

The smooth penetrating glow of your radiant smile
A toothy grin of ambivalence and naivety
I dreamt of you abbreviated brother, pervading my eyes,
shining through the cloudy maze of my thoughts
You hadn’t aged, brown slivery locks danced above your
lids, constantly peering, laughing
Visits have slowed over the years, with each rustling
autumn I wonder, have you forgotten me?
How do you pass the days, slumbering in dark corners
of my mind, tucked away from the harsh reality that
stains the memories
Words spill from your rounded lips, half-phrases of
inequity and longing, muted words of love and
abandonment, long forgotten, dust in a desert wind.

Growing up, I never heard of Unitarian Universalism. And yet, my parents possessed a streak of religious nonconformity we often brandish with great pride. My parents were Christian, but they each assumed that label on their own terms.

For instance, my mother was raised Methodist in Moundsville, West Virginia – named for a large Adina Indian burial mound in the middle of the town. As a young girl, she once told her minister how she looked forward to going to Heaven so that she could be reunited with her deceased pet dog. The minister informed her (I always imagined in a rather patronizing tone) that her dog would not be waiting for her because there are no animals in Heaven. Without missing a beat, my mother told her minister that if her dog was not in Heaven, then she had no interest in going herself.

When I knew her as an adult, my mother was no shrinking violet. Many was the time she left some store clerk, teacher, or anonymous bureaucrat quaking in their officious shoes. But, I have to really admire the courage of a little girl to challenge the senior ecclesiastical authority in her life on an important point of theology. I take some measure of delight in her raw chutzpah, risking her minister’s vision of eternal hell fire over her love for the family pet. With genes like hers, I suppose it is little wonder that I eventually took the path toward Unitarian Universalist ministry.

This relatively harmless, amusing anecdote lived in our family’s history for decades and, obviously, made an impression on me as well. My mother has been gone for many years now, but her telling of that story lives clearly in my memory. An interesting question, however, is that of all the memories of childhood she could have retained, why would my mother, who lived into her 70’s, remember that brief exchange? Of all the folksy wisdom she could pass on to her children, why would that conversation rate consideration?

I believe my mother clung to that story because it represented her most primary belief in the nature of the human soul. My mother clearly felt that Heaven was not merely a Shangri-La of limitless joy and boundless serenity. No, she obviously felt that Heaven is a very personalized paradise populated by all of the dearly departed in a sort of mirror of our Earthly world. To her, Heaven would not be heavenly without her beloved pet, because her dog was an essential component of her life – a life that had earned selection into the Kingdom of God.

Let me carry the Gospel According to Helen one step further. My mother believed that her soul, once shed of its mortal body, would live for eternity in Heaven. Now, animals are not baptized, nor do they make any conscious choice to accept Jesus into their lives. I doubt that she believed animals have souls, per se, so one might ask how her dog would earn entry into the hereafter. Certainly not all animals would be there. If there is a Heaven at all, then surely it is devoid of rats and roaches and rattlesnakes, since they would evoke memories of fear and danger. So, for a particular animal to earn ascension, they must do so by displaying a humanlike devotion, living on even after death as part of the loving memory of the soul of a human being. I imagine that my mother would have agreed that as long as that dog lived on in her memory, even subconsciously, then her Heaven must include that dog.

My mother was no theologian. I am not sure that she could have given you much of an answer if asked to define the human soul. But, she knew what the concept meant to her and that was sufficient. To her, the soul was the immortal essence of each human being. The mind is the seat of thought and reason, but the soul is the seat of understanding and compassion. The mind may be the end result of neural synapses and biochemical reactions. To my mother, the soul was the vessel of the spirit, that divine spark, that piece of God within us. And, upon death, that piece of spirit reunites with God in Heaven.

But, not all of us are so fortunate, as my mother was, to have an unambiguous faith. Very few Unitarian Universalists believe in a continuing, individualized existence after physical death. Even fewer believe in the material existence of places called heaven or hell where one goes after dying. If we believe in the concept at all, we believe that immortality manifests itself in the lives of those we affect during our lifetime and in the legacy we leave when we die.

So what do Unitarian Universalists believe about the human soul? I somehow doubt that you can find any two Unitarian Universalists who will answer that question in quite the same way. To even begin would require a month of Sundays to simply lay the philosophical groundwork. Thinkers of distinguished pedigree have considered the nature of the soul to be one of the most fundamental notions of human existence, worthy of entire careers of contemplation and learned writing.

My mother lives on in my memory. I do not remember her as she would be today, in her mid-80’s. I do not remember her as she was when she died, after fighting liver cancer for a year. I remember her mostly as she was during my adolescence, when we talked for hours after school, over the dinner table, or during summer vacations. Ageless. Divorced of static from the distractions of life. She lives in a corner of my mind, tucked away from the harsh reality that stains the memories.

Does some measurable aspect of her actually live on in some tangible way? I doubt it. But, until science determines the nature of memory, how do we define the ripples left in the universal pool by the skipping of our mortal lives? Until science unlocks the mysteries of time and space, who is to say that some flicker of our life light does not continue on in the cloudy maze of thought, perhaps even retaining some mote of consciousness?

I do not believe in heaven or hell, but do take comfort in knowing that my life matters and will matter, even in a small way, after I die. I do not believe that a god imbued me with any special essence. I do think, however, that there exists something more to us than the sum of our molecular composition and collected energies. For now, I am willing to accept the uncertainty of soul and embrace the undetectable influence of others’ souls on my life.

Reclaiming Words

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Exploring my religious philosophy with friends recently, I have engaged in the ongoing debate over groups of people reclaiming words once deemed pejorative. For instance, “Unitarian” was originally meant as an insult, yet our religious forebears took ownership of the word. Addressing the Boy Scouts, I commented that the song “Yankee Doodle” was written and sung by the British to mock the bumpkin colonists. In my opinion, if African Americans want to reclaim the n-word, and gays want to reclaim the q-word and women want to reclaim the b-word, then I am all for it. I have always loved the quote from the movie 1776, when Stephen Hopkins from Rhode Island breaks the tie vote allowing the Continental Congress to debate independence by saying, “I’ve never seen, heard, nor smelled an issue that was so dangerous it couldn’t be talked about. Hell yes, I’m for debating anything!” Well, I have never found a word so inherently harmful that it couldn’t be used during intelligent discourse. That does not mean that we must use it, but I reserve for myself and others the right to use it should we choose to do so.

I feel especially possessive about the word “atheist.” According to Wikipedia, atheism “originated as a pejorative epithet applied to any person or belief in conflict with established religion.” The following citation is used to support this statement.

Drachmann, A. B. (1977 (“an unchanged reprint of the 1922 edition”)). Atheism in Pagan Antiquity. Chicago: Ares Publishers. ISBN 0-89005-201-8. “Atheism and atheist are words formed from Greek roots and with Greek derivative endings. Nevertheless they are not Greek; their formation is not consonant with Greek usage. In Greek they said atheos and atheotēs; to these the English words ungodly and ungodliness correspond rather closely. In exactly the same way as ungodly, atheos was used as an expression of severe censure and moral condemnation; this use is an old one, and the oldest that can be traced. Not till later do we find it employed to denote a certain philosophical creed.”

I believe it imperative that atheists fully reclaim this word and refute the long held association with amorality, which I would contend is still held by many today.

For me, reclaiming “atheist” looms especially large because I seek to become a Unitarian Universalist minister. I feel a duty to provide other atheists (as well as agnostics or others questioning their theology) with a role model of an atheist who is also religious — even devoutly religious. I feel an equal duty to help theists understand how someone can live a religious life (and perhaps lead their religious community) whose theology lacks theistic underpinnings. It is important, for instance, for an atheist minister to model respect for and reasonable analysis of others’ sacred texts, interpreting the wisdom of those texts removed from the assumption of an anthropomorphic motive force in the universe.

And, I feel an especially enormous duty to our children and youth, growing up in a predominantly theistic cultural paradigm. If you are an adult, do you remember those early teen years when you began to question the wisdom passed on to you from parents and other elders? Imagine being 13 today in America, questioning the existence of God in a community where nearly everyone you know is Christian and in a world where nearly every major religious movement begins with the premise of an omniscient being that will, in most cases, punish you for such thoughts. Young minds need to know that such thoughts are healthy and reasonable. Young people need to know that giving up the notion of god does not mean giving up meaning in life, or the joy of human community. Children and youth need to hear the voices of adults – theist and atheist – unafraid to worship together, focusing the power and love of the human spirit on their thoughts and feelings and actions.

Bikes and Being

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When I was very young, I had a tricycle. I don’t really know if I imagine this, but I remember that this was the biggest tricycle around…bigger than any other kid’s tricycle. My trike was decked out with a Tigeroo (with the furry tail attached to the back). We lived out in the country on a very busy road, so there were few places to ride. But, I remember that I loved riding that tricycle in our driveway, roaring around like a king of the concrete.

As a young adolescent, I had a two-wheeler with sissy handlebars and a gold banana seat. That was true love. Growing up in Pittsburgh, one learns quickly about hills. I used to walk up about a half mile hill (the bike had one speed – Jeff speed) just to get to this area of streets that was totally flat and I would ride around the blocks for hours. Eventually, I gave my golden stallion to my nephews. But, I never forgot that bike or the countless rides on Osage and Valleyview Drives.

I have not ridden much as an adult. Bicycle riding stopped being fun when it became exercise; it stopped being fun when the seat resembled a medieval torture device; it stopped being fun when it contorted my body into the position of a human torpedo; and it stopped being fun when maintaining a bike became as difficult as maintaining my car. All I should have to worry about is keeping air in the tires and slapping some grease on a chain occasionally — that’s it.

Walking to work today, I passed a bike that gleamed in the morning light, reminding me of my golden beauty of yore. I experienced a nostalgic pang for those days of my youth when riding my bike meant just being alone and thinking. I wasn’t burning calories or fine tuning a finely crafted investment. I sat upright in comfort and weaved a path along the cracks in the asphalt under a canopy of elms and buckeye trees.

Riding my bike trained me for managing the rigors of adult life. Whether I am pushing a shopping cart, mowing the grass, or driving down a highway, I can send my mind into that time of simplicity on wheels. Maybe someday, I’ll create a park with nothing but winding bike trails and no-speed bikes with sissy handlebars and banana seats for everyone. And Tigeroos, too.

Tilting Your Perspectives

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I believe that we all have a muse. A sad reality of “civilized” life, however, is that few of us are ever empowered to embrace our muse and allow its fullest expression. Many people spend their entire lives with their muse locked away in a dusty attic, or secured with heavy chains in a dank basement. But, the funny thing about muses — no matter how hard we try to suppress them, they still find little ways to make their presence known. One goal of my muse kennel is to bring together those creative forces in all of us that resist the leash and provide a space for them to play.

This week, I worked with the Director of Religious Education at our church on our intergenerational Thanksgiving service coming up in three weeks. I have known Jen for many years and consider her a dear friend. The funny thing is that we have worked together on religious education and youth events for 10 years. We have supported each other as colleagues with a common commitment and passion for Unitarian Universalist children and youth programming. But, I do not recall the two of us ever really creating anything together.

We met a couple of times over meals (muses aren’t alone in needing food), hashing ideas back and forth, and generally just letting our muses romp. What a joy! A couple of times, I sat back in my chair and told her just how much fun I was having writing this service together. What happens, of course, is that the more freedom you give your muse, the more energetic it becomes. I left our last meeting buzzing with words and ideas begging to be typed into the computer. I was amazed at how just a slight change in my view of our professional relationship resulted in such a fresh approach to our artistic and spiritual expression.

I am a huge fan of paradigm shifts. But, revolution is not always the answer. We don’t always need to tilt at windmills. Sometimes, all our muses ask of us is to tilt our perspectives just a little and approach projects from a different point of view.

New Orleans Trip: Tuesday

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Today, most of the volunteers went to the New Orleans Food Bank. A few returned to the Animal Shelter and some returned to the Lazarus Project working with AIDS patients. Also, the two construction crews at Ms. Evelyn’s and Ms. Severe’s houses returned to their sites.

I went back to Ms. Evelyn’s house today. Some of us helped jack up a corner of the house that was sinking. I worked on exploring the possibility of stripping the paint from the baseboards and doors, in order to restore them to their original condition. This is a long-term job, since there is a huge amount of woodwork to be repaired in the home. Once we can set up the best techniques, then the crew leader can direct future volunteers more effectively.

This brings up an interesting situation with this organization. All of the staff and leaders are young adults, many working through Americorps, and probably all in their 20’s. Few of them have extensive construction experience, but they have an unbridled passion to do a good job restoring these homes.

Dallas, our crew chief, is from Portland, Maine. He has a fiction writing degree from Colorado and is an energetic and idealistic young man. He badly wants to not just return Ms. Evelyn to a house, but restore her home to as close to its original condition as possible. Of course, we are doing this with little money, but a lot of labor. So, there are times when we volunteers have suggested want seem to be logical ideas and shortcuts. But, Dallas is undeterred.

The point is that, whoever is right is not important. What matters is that this young man and the dozen or so other young people leading these projects are learning vital skills while performing valuable public services. This experience will make them even more amazing people who I am sure will contribute immensely to society. So, whether they make the decision we older and perhaps more experienced adults would make is less important than the fact that we respect their authority and give our best efforts to help them achieve their goals for their projects.

So, coming to New Orleans is about directly helping victims of Hurricane Katrina and its aftermath. It is also about training the next generation of citizens in leadership and giving them the confidence to strive for their dreams.

Another important aspect of our trip to New Orleans is infusing our energy and our financial resources into the community. Several of us have reported conversations with local residents thanking us just for being here. Today, our crew ate lunch at Cafe Reconcile, an absolutely fascinating organization in Center City. This five-story building currently is a restaurant where young people learn all of the skills of the hospitality business. In time, the upper floors will be developed into a banquet hall, classrooms, space for entrepreneurial enterprises, and short-term housing for students. The food was amazing – collards, okra, pork chops, crawfish bisque, among other things.

Tomorrow, everyone will be going to the Ka-Boom playground site.

The Jena 6 Case and Evolution

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As I follow the Jena 6 case, I have come to the conclusion that our news media have displayed ineptitude above and beyond their normal limits. At this point, a reasonable reviewer of the reports of the events that went on in that town has little chance of possessing a complete and factual account. Regardless of the various arguments to the contrary, I am convinced that the malignancy that is our criminal justice system has once again reared its ugly head, displaying its overt racism and classism.

What disturbs me even more, however, is what I perceive to be a growing sentiment – that in time, our justice system with its various appeals and retrials will sort everything out and justice will eventually be served. Perhaps, in my childhood, I might have believed such a fantasy. But, the hard reality is that there still exist too many factions vested in a racist system of law enforcement and in a society that fails to invest in the future of our children regardless of their social status, family background, or ability.

I do not believe we can wait for the laborious process of evolution to eventually produce in this country a legal system that is color blind, or a school funding formula that does not favor the rich. The reality is that evolution consists not only of gradual change and adaptation, but also radical change and mutation. And, since we face forces with powerful resources invested in the status quo. We must be willing to be change agents.

The young men charged in the Jena 6 case are not angels. So what? Neither were their white counterparts who walked away with no charges and no potential for massive prison sentences. This community failed these young people and they should not be held liable. They and their families should not have to sacrifice years of their lives and all of their financial and emotional resources fighting unjust charges. This nation is failing another generation of young people and we should be held liable if we do not advocate for radical change in our legal system, our schools, our taxation practices, and our government funding policies.

So, why a blog? (reason #3)

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My ministry for many years served Unitarian Universalist youth. When FUUSE.com was created (a web community of UU youth and young adults) I joined. I even began a journal, which was the first time I ever attempted such a record in my life. My primary motivation was to share with youth and young adults my progress into the formal ministry, in part to give back to the community that had given me so much over the years.

Even though I had been a committed youth advisor for many years, however, I always felt like a bit of a lurker on the site. Once I got more involved in student activities at Meadville Lombard Theological School, my journal entries declined and I drifted away from FUUSE.

With a blog, though, I see the importance of that original purpose returning. I know that there are people out there who think, from time to time, about what it is like to be a minister. As public figures, I believe that ministers owe it to congregants and any interested parties to share their personal spiritual journeys and help people chart their own paths through life.

My decision to pursue fellowship with Unitarian Universalist ministers was not an easy one and I have paid a price for that decision. But, I don’t regret my decision for one second. If the notion of being a UU minister has crossed your mind, perhaps my thoughts can be of some help as you reflect on your decision.