Protecting half the children
Liz James is outraged by health policy that only offers the HPV vaccine—which prevents cancer—to young girls, and not to young boys.
“Why aren’t we vaccinating the boys?” I asked, when my son was a baby.
“If the girls are all vaccinated,” replied the public health lady patiently, “then it can’t spread.”
I’m sorry, whaaaaat????. . . .We discovered how to prevent a horrible disease and then used that knowledge to protect only half of the children. (Rebel with a Labelmaker, September 17)
Witness on wheels
The Rev. Dr. Cynthia Landrum writes that this past General Assembly “missed the mark” for people using wheelchairs and scooters—particularly the Waterfire witness event.
In the end, it just really wasn’t an accessible event. . . . I think it would be more honest for the GA planners to say, “This big cornerstone event of GA just isn’t accessible,” and then for our gathered assembly to wrestle with the honest emotions of what it means to have a major part of GA that all of us don’t have access to. I think we could learn something from that exercise. . . . .
I’m hoping for the GA Planning Committee to learn that choosing a location and events so inaccessible isn’t simply “a necessary trade-off,” it’s an act of oppression. And I’m hoping that for future GAs, we can show real improvement both through stronger planning and through educating our attendees further. (Rev. Cyn, September 12)
Ordinary heroism
The Rev. James Ford calls us to the “ordinary heroism” of a committed spiritual life.
An authentic spiritual life is not all beer and skittles. It takes discipline and perseverance. It is definitely counter-cultural, as it demands a constant presence in a culture that is pretty much all about distraction.
A genuine spiritual life is heroic in the sense of those qualities of nobility and perseverance that move us out of the ordinary. And yet, at the very same time, it is something accessible to all of us. Sort of an ordinary heroism. (Monkey Mind, September 16)
The Rev. Theresa Novak writes about spiritual earthquakes that leave us questioning everything.
Sometimes . . .
The ground
Beneath you moves
With such sudden violence
It knocks you down
Upon your knees
And everything
Around you falls
Shatters in an instant
Your foundation cracked
The ideas you have hung
So carefully on your wall
In ruins on the floor
With the everyday plates,
Wine glasses,
And holiday platters. (Sermons, Poems, and other Musings, September 18)
The Awakened Introvert is officially religiously unaffiliated, after a long connection to Unitarian Universalism.
I’ve finally reached the point where I am ready to step away from institutional religion completely. . . .
I consider myself a feminist spiritual contemplative naturalist. It’s more accurate, but much more of a mouthful to say, and much less able to fit into society’s boxes. I’m ready to own the process of my spiritual life and growth apart from anyone’s boxes.
So I sent a letter to my minister, gently extricating myself from church membership. I’m on my own now. I’m none of the above. I’m a solitary. A solitary what, I’m not sure. But I am a solitary. And I am gloriously, fabulously, joyfully, ecstatically happy. (The Awakened Introvert, September 18)
Motivations toward ministry
The Rev. Tom Schade begins a series of posts examining motivations for ministry.
Ministers often talk about their “call,” the time that they became conscious of the deep motivations which led them to the ministry. You have to recognize that the phrase, “the call” is theologically loaded. It remembers the call stories in the Bible, in which God calls people into His service. But people who are not into that concept of God still have deep motivations toward the ministry, and further, can often recall moments when they became aware of them: an experience which could be named a “call.” (The Lively Tradition, September 14)
The Rev. Cynthia Cain has scaled back her big, beginning dreams for ministry, and found a satisfying sense of purpose.
Twenty years ago, upon entering the ministry, I thought my purpose was to be a stellar UU minister, to do amazing social justice work, to help eliminate racism, to end child abuse . . . I had so many dreams! I had to scale back my big ideas one after one. I’m satisfied now with the work I’ve done, and I’m at a turning point as I enter a new decade and a new form of ministry. Now I’m a little more willing to let my purpose find me, and to be willing to listen when it does. (A Jersey Girl in Kentucky, September 18)
Speaking out
The Rev. Diane Dowgiert has suggestions for NFL commissioner Roger Goodell.
Call on the better angels of your owners, managers, coaches, and players that they may be leaders in bringing an end to the abuse of women and children in their most intimate relationships. (Transforming Times, September 17)
The Rev. Kate Lore blogs while riding the Climate Train.
There are many little things we can do to slow global warming. Skipping meat one day a week, for example, can reduce your carbon footprint by as much as not driving your car for an entire month. Using high efficiency appliances and vehicles can also help. But these small and important acts are not enough to counter the rising temperature of our planet. We need to engage entire nations in this work. They, in turn, can write the regulations we need to significantly lower CO2 emissions. (Rev. Lore Blog, September 17) [UU World has a selection of Lore's social media reports from the train.]
The Rev. Elizabeth Stevens urges members of her congregation to “march for survival.”
[Many] of us . . . feel disempowered by a political system where key players on all sides are in bed with big oil. It’s sort of like being on an out of control train, heading toward a deep ravine with no bridge. We know disaster is coming. We don’t know what to do to stop it.
Or at least . . . we didn’t know. Next week, world leaders are meeting at the United Nations for a Climate Summit. These are the folks who have the power to put on the brakes! In advance of the summit . . . . demonstrations are planned around the world. . . . This is the moment when our bodies, our participation in these events, can make a difference. (revehstevens, September 19)