Sunday, March 26, 2023

Lazarus and Friends on the Fifth Sunday in Lent


 37 The hand of the Lord came upon me, and he brought me out by the spirit of the Lord and set me down in the middle of a valley; it was full of bones. He led me all around them; there were very many lying in the valley, and they were very dry. He said to me, “Mortal, can these bones live?” I answered, “O Lord God, you know.” Then he said to me, “Prophesy to these bones, and say to them: O dry bones, hear the word of the Lord




Thus says the Lord God to these bones: I will cause breath to enter you, and you shall live. I will lay sinews on you, and will cause flesh to come upon you, and cover you with skin, and put breath  in you, and you shall live; and you shall know that I am the Lord.” 


So I prophesied as I had been commanded; and as I prophesied, suddenly there was a noise, a rattling, and the bones came together, bone to its bone. I looked, and there were sinews on them, and flesh had come upon them, and skin had covered them; but there was no breath in them. Then he said to me, “Prophesy to the breath, prophesy, mortal, and say to the breath: Thus says the Lord God: Come from the four winds, O breath, and breathe upon these slain, that they may live.” 10 I prophesied as he commanded me, and the breath came into them, and they lived, and stood on their feet, a vast multitude.


11 Then he said to me, “Mortal, these bones are the whole house of Israel. They say, ‘Our bones are dried up, and our hope is lost; we are cut off completely.’ 12 Therefore prophesy, and say to them, Thus says the Lord God: I am going to open your graves, and bring you up from your graves, O my people; and I will bring you back to the land of Israel. 13 And you shall know that I am the Lord, when I open your graves, and bring you up from your graves, O my people. 14 I will put my spirit within you, and you shall live, and I will place you on your own soil; then you shall know that I, the Lord, have spoken and will act,” says the Lord


Saturday, March 18, 2023

Coming for You. Coming for Me.

I've been blasted before for including unapologetically partisan political content here. But I'm about to do it again. And this is gonna be a downer.

Christian Nationalism is a real and present threat. Period.


It's a threat to women's reproductive health and self-determination. It's a threat to the ethnic and cultural diversity of any version of modern society worth living in. It's a brutal and deadly threat to queer and trans kids. It's a threat to economic and ecological justice. It's a threat to any man who likes to wear a dress. It's a threat to any woman who likes to wear a suit and tie. It's a threat to Jews. It's a threat to Muslims. Soon enough it will be a threat to Hindus, Buddhists, Sikhs, Wiccans, and everybody else who hasn't bought the snake oil of a narrow, inauthentic, hypocritical, and repressive version of Christianity. 


It's Fascism Light. For the time being, until it reveals itself as just plain Fascism. It's The Handmaid's Tale waiting to come to a government near you.


If publicly available resources for mindful erotic self-development have changed your life for the good, it's a threat to you. Even if you're male. Even if you're cisgendered. Even if you're white. Even if you're economically privileged. The websites you access are already targeted. The organizations you belong to are already in the cross-hairs. 


Tennessee has banned drag performances on public property. Ron De Sanctimonious--for once, Donald Trump came up with a nickname I can get on board with--is attacking the health care of at-risk trans youth, rewriting the curriculum of Florida schools, scrubbing all references to sexual diversity and the history of racism from textbooks. Parents' rights groups are attacking libraries and librarians. Use your imagination about what's next, and don't kid yourself it won't go any further. 


If you think you can just sit back and hope it will go away, then you're not paying attention.


I'm not saying, "Go to the barricades." At least not yet. But I'm saying, wake up, and do some good in the face of all this. Find out about the work of the American Civil Liberties Union, the Southern Poverty Law Centre, the Woodhull Freedom Foundation. And then support them: give up four coffees at Starbucks a year and send the $25 to one or another of those groups. Or maybe $25 each to all of them. Find out who's running for school board in your town next election cycle, and work for the candidate who's not a Nazi-for-Jesus.


But just as important as all this: in your own life, choose kindness. Every day, be swift to choose kindness. Choose community. Choose to affirm and validate those around you. As corny as they can be, model yourself on the cast of Queer Eye. Go to a drag show, even if you haven't been to a drag show for years. In fact, especially if you haven't been to a drag show for years, and offer a dollar bill to every lip-syncing diva who walks by your table. Smile at the sixteen-year-old non-binary kid you pass on the street. Talk to someone visibly glbtq whom you normally wouldn't think to engage.


For the last five or six months, I've been part of an informal cluster of erotic activists and writers working to discern what we can do, individually and collectively. We've gotten as far as calling ourselves "Men's Groups United," coming up with a logo, and creating an "elevator speech":



Who we are: We are a group of advocates, body workers, facilitators, and activists for men's mindful erotic self-development.

 

What we believe: We believe in the right of individuals to explore the possibilities of their lives with freedom of expression without interference from socially repressive forces. We are committed to the transformative nature of erotic empowerment.

 

What are we doing? We seek to raise the social consciousness among the people involved in the work that we do. We do this in solidarity with all people doing erotic work with all genders. 

 

Why are we doing this? Christian Nationalism and other right-wing activism is aggressively attempting to limit free personal expression. We know from history of the need to take action before existing rights/liberties are taken away. We seek to preserve and expand the civil liberties and rights of all people. 

Friday, March 10, 2023

One Step. Now Another.



Every few years, a really crappy hiking experience turns out to be a good spiritual discipline. 

Seven years ago, it was going up a mountain near Aix-en-Provence. Last Sunday, it was hiking a trail north of Palm Springs.


My pathological fear of heights is foundationally psychological--I can remember it from the age of five. But as I plough into my late sixties, my balance grows increasingly precarious because of my degenerative spine. A walking stick is mandatory equipment for me these last few years, and the reassurance it provides gives me ongoing access to experiences I'd probably have given up by now without it. 


(Next up: state-of-the-art knee braces! Which I probably should have bought before the current trip.)


I'd been on Sunday's trail before, and remembered it involved a climb up to the ridge above a broad gravel wash that the trail crossed at the outset. I remembered last time, on a sunny afternoon, encountering a basking rattlesnake in the middle of the turnoff to the ascent--the object of wary fascination to four or five others who were also strategizing how to negotiate our way around it. I didn't remember how long the series of switchbacks would go on--about fifty minutes. And in the overcast cold, we'd naively failed to take into account the rise in altitude, and the consequent drop in temperature on a very windy day.


In short, the whole damn thing was the opposite of fun. Remaining aware that we were passing through a landscape of rare and spectacular views only made it worse. Part of my mind could still register that no other consciousness in the universe but mine was being gifted with this precise experience, at this moment in time.


But fuck that. All I need is the peripheral awareness that space is dropping away a few feet to one side of me, and I become incapable of focusing on anything except the two and a half feet of ground where I'll take my next step, trying to keep my breath slow and even, with every switchback shifting the walking stick from hand to hand to keep it between me and the downward slope--and, in a strong cold wind, trying not to freak out at the lessened stability of my gait.


Because it's Lent--because it's a season that's all about facing the truth that our lives are precarious, transitory, limited, and dependent on a Mystery far greater than our small selves--I found myself thinking, as I trudged along, about desert experiences. Above all, about the episode near the beginning of Matthew's Gospel in which Jesus, during his forty days in the desert, rejects Satan's encouragements to create an illusion of false security for himself. 


My pathetic, wimpy progress along a moderately difficult marked trail was hardly a moment of heroic asceticism. But what putting one foot in front of the other for an anxious hour reminded me of was this: that when we strip away all the distractions, our life is about taking one step at a time amidst uncertainty and insecurity, trusting that Something, or Someone, will go on bearing us up. And that the present moment is the only moment we have.


Rabbi Nachman of Bratslav said that all of life is a very narrow bridge, and the main thing is not to be afraid.

Saturday, March 4, 2023

A Litany against Shame in the Season of Lent

In a season of Christian practice that's far too often about mortification and self-loathing, what can an alternative, body-affirming, sex-positive spiritual discipline look like? A practice that affirms the presence of God in our flesh--in all of our flesh--and the presence of our flesh in God? A practice that meditates on the transitory, finite nature of our lives--for we are dust, and to dust we shall return. A practice that calls us to humility and invites us to take each moment as a gift that we're given, rather than as something we hold as of right?


With all this in mind, I offer you this litany, as a shield against shame--and an encouragement to conform our erotic longings to our spiritual aspirations. Scandalous as those will find it who see the body as the enemy of Spirit, rather than its incarnation.


Source of Life--

Hail, Holy Phallus


Ever-changing sign of our mortality--

Hail, Holy Phallus


Ladder set between earth and heaven--

Hail, Holy Phallus


Union of our animal and spiritual natures--

Hail Holy Phallus 


Teacher of true humility, grounding us in the earth--

Hail, Holy Phallus


Flaming sword that wards off shame from the Garden of Original Innocence--

Hail, Holy Phallus


Destroyer of Illusion--

Hail, Holy Phallus


Seat of Wisdom to the mindful--

Hail, Holy Phallus


Font of Compassion to the open-hearted--

Hail, Holy Phallus


Bearer of comfort and portal to transcendent joy--

Hail, Holy Phallus


Sacred Cock of Jesus--

Pray for us


Sacred Cock of Jesus--

Pray through us


Sacred Cock of Jesus--

Make of our flesh Your Flesh


OM NAMA SHIVAYA PAN PRIAPUS CERNUNNOS SACRED COCK OF JESUS LORD OF THE DANCE NAMA OM