I think that it was Eleanor Roosevelt who said, “A woman is like a tea bag. You never know how strong she is until she gets into hot water.” In my thinking, a teabag never becomes fully itself until it finds that hot water. Maybe it is so with women, as well. In fact, this could be a commentary on our culture—there’s been a lot of “hot water” in which women have found themselves these days.

At this very moment, the strong women who are on my heart and in my prayers are the mothers, grandmothers, neighbors and friends who have, in any way, been hurt by the numerous hurricanes that have recently come through the Caribbean and the Southeast U.S. The women who have protected their children and families, while evacuating or hunkering down are heroes to me.  May God continue to be with them.

In a loftier and less tragic area, the Olympics were a highly competitive international cup of “hot water”. This summer I found myself glued to the television. There were so many strong women athletes, though some left especially vivid impressions on me: the strength and beauty of relay runner Sanya Richards; the fortitude and persistence of 41 year old (you go, girl!) swimmer, Dara Torres.

This week my blog is simply to let you know of a wonderful thing that’s going on in the body of Christ and refer you to another blog.

Last week, a delegation of six clergy, scholars and/or church leaders went to visit Israel and Palestine with an organization called Witness for Peace.

They are going there to be witnesses for peace in that fractured Holy place as they follow in the geographical footsteps of Jesus the Christ. When they return, they will be charged to witness to others about their experience.

Earlier this summer, the Young Adult Fellowship at Marble invited me to give a talk on "summer spirituality." We discussed the idea of the Creation and God’s taking a day of Sabbath rest and God’s command of us to do the same thing on a regular basis.  Some of us who grew up in traditions with very clear Sabbath expectations reminisced and shared with others who are trying to learn about "keeping the Sabbath" in the present tense. The upshot of my presentation was to encourage each of them to use the summer to cultivate their own Sabbath practice -- not only on the first day of the week, but during special set aside moments in the day.

Now that was in early June and now it is early August. Wow!! Where did the summer go?  Have you enhanced your Sabbath spiritual practice? Or, has the summer whizzed by you? I am in the "whizzed by" category.

Did you hear this story about a man in Berlin?

Today’s blog picks up from where we left off last week. A very provocative comment came in and I got a bit carried away in my response, so it has become this week’s blog. Consider it a two-parter. And please, weigh in—there is room for more.  Thanks to all who have already done so.

Thank you sooooo much for your comment, socialpoet. You are very thoughtful and have a powerful voice. I am really rocked by the in between-ness that you communicate—with your brother's professional decision and your own keen political and social observations. 

I have been talking to myself all day (some simple self-reflection and some chastisement) about not participating in the marches yesterday. During the period following Diallo’s murder, I was actively involved in the protests. I will never forget going to Webster Avenue in the Bronx for a prayer service and afterwards standing in the vestibule where he was standing. It had not been fixed up then and I saw bullet holes and stood about where Diallo did when he drew his last breath.

“It is not sweet when mothers bury their sons.”

Actually, as the Gospel Choir forcefully told us last night, really “our God” is “worthy to be praised.” At the concert, the choirs reminded of so many reasons why I love Gospel music. But it all comes down to the same point: Gospel music has FORCE and POWER—which is the nature of the relationship with God that I have found and yet, still seek.

I love that Gospel music is loud and has a persistent beat—rarely does it allow for passive listening. I appreciate that there are so many strong ways to express praise to our endlessly praiseworthy God. Last night, I heard smooth R&B, scat singing, classical spiritual singing, Bach-like inventions and more.

I remember the first time I ever saw/heard live Gospel music. It was not in my home church, it was on TV. A large, beautiful choir was televised in some worship service. I can still remember one of the songs that I heard: Going Up Yonder. I had known church choral music, up to that point, only as anthems. This moment was truly a revelation.  A few years later, my mother and some of her church friends founded a Gospel Choir called New Generation Gospel Choir. I used to go to their rehearsals to listen to the songs, and equally significant, the ways that they learned and sang them.

I had the serendipitous pleasure of flagging a thoughtful taxi driver last week. We talked about a few different things so I no longer remember in what context it was that he told me the following words:

“We are not rewarded for our achievements, we are rewarded by our strivings.”

I had feeling that he was quoting, or at least alluding to something in the Qu’ran. This taxi driver, born in Ethiopia and trying to make a living in New York City, gave me a gift of motivating and inspiring words at an auspicious time.

I am stuffing my bookbag and brain full of words like this because I am at the beginning of an intensive academic project. I’m collecting words that inspire and motivate. I hope that you will help. Share some of the words that have made a difference in your own strivings and achievements. What words motivate and inspire you? The following are from my collection.

What are you eating these days? When is the last time that you reflected on your gastronomic habits?

I am a vegetarian. Most of the time my experience as a vegetarian is a relatively joyous, earth-engaged culinary, ecological and spiritual practice. Therefore, I was delighted to see a recipe featuring tofu in yesterday’s New York Times food section. The headline read “Tofu Meets its Match in a Dish Fit for Carnivores.” I flipped to the page with expectation of a new recipe to add to my collection. To my astonishment, I found that the author, in attempting to make the tofu more flavorful added pork as the key ingredient. Pork?! Oh, my...

Must I conclude, then, that a “dish fit for carnivores” is one that excludes vegetarians and others?

As I write this, it is the eve of the 40th anniversary of the assassination of the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. I take deep inspiration from Dr. King’s life and his commitments to an anti-racist society and to the cause of human dignity. I gain profound spiritual insight when I read and listen to the ways that he articulated and embodied the Gospel of Jesus Christ in the 20th century.

Back in January of this year, Marble Church threw a huge celebration to honor his life. It was an audio-visual gospel music and spoken word event. Over 1000 people came to hear the music and learn about the man of God. As the first and only African American clergywoman at this historic church, I am constantly aware that I would not be in this place without the work of Dr. King, Mrs. Fannie Lou Hamer and so many other Christian Civil Rights leaders.

Therefore, I am surprised to find myself experiencing a noticeable amount of grief for Dr. King today. I grieve the violence of his death. I am grieving for the ministry that he never had a chance to live. I am grieving, especially in this time of war, for his voice that advocated for peace. I am grieving the ineptness with which we Christian leaders enact our solidarity with people who are poor and suffering.

The first liturgical dance piece that I choreographed many years ago was for a Palm Sunday Worship Service. It was a dance for three dancers done in two parts. The first part was performed in silence and I choreographed it as a meditation on Jesus’ inner thoughts just before he entered Jerusalem on that donkey. Since he was Christ, he was fully aware that this triumphal procession would initiate the last and most painful season of his life-ministry on earth. I imagined that the time before he entered Jerusalem would have been a very quiet time... a deeply interior time for Jesus. 

So, I tried to choreograph divine interiority. I was studying Merce Cunningham technique around that time and the curves, arcs and spinal twists of the Cunningham technique gave me a useful physical lexicon to place on the dancers. This sense of Jesus’ human psychological response is a subject that I would like to choreographically dwell on again in the future.