[rest in peace, beloved]

In honor of Sue Creed who passed away around 4pm today....

The Message version of this favorite Psalm of hers...

Psalm 91

You who sit down in the High God's presence, spend the night in Shaddai's shadow,
Say this: "God, you're my refuge.
I trust in you and I'm safe!"
That's right—he rescues you from hidden traps,
shields you from deadly hazards.
His huge outstretched arms protect you—
under them you're perfectly safe;
his arms fend off all harm.
Fear nothing—not wild wolves in the night,
not flying arrows in the day,
Not disease that prowls through the darkness,
not disaster that erupts at high noon.
Even though others succumb all around,
drop like flies right and left,
no harm will even graze you.
You'll stand untouched, watch it all from a distance,
watch the wicked turn into corpses.
Yes, because God's your refuge,
the High God your very own home,
Evil can't get close to you,
harm can't get through the door.
He ordered his angels
to guard you wherever you go.
If you stumble, they'll catch you;
their job is to keep you from falling.
You'll walk unharmed among lions and snakes,
and kick young lions and serpents from the path.

^14-16 "If you'll hold on to me for dear life," says God,
"I'll get you out of any trouble.
I'll give you the best of care
if you'll only get to know and trust me.
Call me and I'll answer, be at your side in bad times;
I'll rescue you, then throw you a party.
I'll give you a long life,
give you a long drink of salvation!"

Also, watch this: Jes reading the feminist version of Psalm 91.

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Peace to you in the next, Sue... be loved, beloved.

[woman at the well]

Leah posted this earlier today.

To be loved is to be known....

I.love.it.

Why wasn't I introduced to spoken word before moving to California?

[Gospel truths from a homeless kid]

[I walk onto the patio to encounter a client sitting on the ground with a book in his lap, eating fruit snacks.]

me: Oh you're reading 'The Key to a Successful Life', that sounds promising.

client: what do you mean?

me: I mean, it sounds like if you want a successful life you have to read the book.

client: Naw... that's for douchebags.

me: Why's that?

client: Because people that are successful... people that have money... they're all mad and shit.

me: What do you mean?
client: People with lots of money have problems man... I'm poor and I'm happy everyday! More money means more things to worry about.

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This is Gospel... Scripture... Truth... from the mouth of a homeless kid. Just the way Jesus likes it.

[housing?]

Finding sticks and leaves and grass on the floor of the shower is quite possibly one of the most heartbreaking parts of my job...

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This makes it sound like housing is the best solution for homelessness.....

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But if you think more housing would solve homelessness, you are sadly mislead. Homelessness and poverty may be among the most complex issues/injustices of our day...

remember that time I said I wasn't passionate about homelessness?

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I've become passionate.

[passionate anger]

I don't know what to do. Systematically, I mean.

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So when I run in the mornings it is usually towards Downtown LA. Roughly 6 blocks from my house at the Olympic/Vermont intersection is a bus stop. In the past as I've run by, I get really sad because there is a homeless women who sat underneath the bus shelter at that corner. She is surrounded by all she has in life... a few blankets, newspapers, some empty food wrappers, and a bunch of cigarettes. Her teeth chatter, she looks lonely... she is alone. I cringe every time I run by her because I feel bad that I'm not helping somehow. I even have thought about bringing a granola bar with me each time I head that way, but I never do. And she doesn't necessarily go unnoticed because two of my roommates know exactly who I'm talking about... which is sort of comforting on some bizarre level. At least her presence is recognized... i don't know if that helps or hurts... perhaps it will help as soon as i figure out what to do....

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So, anyway, this morning I went running that same way. I get about a block away and recognize something different about the scenery. There's no bus shelter. They took it away... THEY STRIPPED THIS WOMAN OF HER HOME. Now, when it rains, she has nothing protecting her. Several of her things are gone. She is sitting up against the wall of the nearby building... more vulnerable than before... (I didn't even think that was possible.) I saw an article about either San Bernadino or Santa Barbara police starting to strip these bus shelters so as to clean the streets of homeless people. But I didn't think it was really going to happen.

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Nor did I think it would ever hit me this hard.

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I was genuinely crushed when i saw that sight this morning. I don't know what to do. How can an institution which claims "to protect and serve" strip someone of something so valuable? It's a bus shelter for God's sake. She's not going to leave that spot because they get rid of the shelter. She's homeless. Good. God. Why couldn't the police give her resources? Why couldn't they drop her off at the Union Mission downtown? I feel like maybe I give humanity more credit than it deserves. I'm angry. I have some minimal ideas as to how I could help... but the systems that be are so jacked up that I feel as though I have no power. No room to talk.

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As it was mentioned at our Mid-year JVC Retreat, I pray that I remain naive enough to believe that I can still change the world.

[Lent...]

Here's my April Congregationalist Article....

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Well, here we are in the midst of what I would probably consider my favorite liturgical season. Now, I think I've been saying that for several years and I really like Advent, but I LOVE Lent. I love that the liturgical color is purple. And I love that it's Springtime. And I love the community that forms around holding each other accountable for our Lenten sacrifices and commitments. And I love the depth of Spirit that grabs me during the various worship services held throughout the season. I simply love it. However, in the days leading up to the start of Lent, I realized that liking something is very different from understanding it. If you asked me: "What does Lent mean to you, Emily?" I would not have had an answer.

The night before Ash Wednesday most of the Los Angeles Jesuit Volunteer community gathered at Dolores Mission, a beloved Jesuit parish in East LA. They were hosting their first ever "Noche de solidaridad." This Night of Solidarity was held for the greater community to stand in solidarity with those struggling for justice not only in Los Angeles, but also in Wisconsin and at the US/Mexico border. Homeless men and women, priests, community members, Jesuit Volunteers, and Dolores Mission staff gathered together to pray. We heard testimonies. We sat in silence. We drank tea together. We talked with each other. We signed a petition. We participated and created true fellowship.

The first woman to tell her story spoke about it in terms of going into the desert. Now, I knew that the "purpose" of Lent was to recall Jesus' 40 days in the wilderness, but it came to me differently this year. In the stories of the men and women who have actually been in the desert without food or water trying to enter the United States you could hear the pain they experienced. They know what the "valley of the shadow of death" (Ps. 23) looks like for they have faced it. However, during each of their tumultuous journeys they did not give up hope because they knew the day of Resurrection, the day they would reach the United States was just around the corner. They had faith, hope and trust that God would raise them out of the shadows to have their own kind of Easter.

Virginia Rickeman, in her book The Well is Deep, wrote a prayer concerning Lent in which she says, "Toward what wilderness, God, are you leading us? Do you press us toward the city outside these doors?... Or is the dry desert of the secular worldview in the wilderness into which you prod us?... Or, God, are you drawing us down into an inner wilderness where canyons of doubt are crisscrossed with gullies of loss and shame?... You retreat into darkness while rock walls all around reverberate with a silent, single word, 'Trust.' We are here, God, on the brink of whatever Lenten wilderness is ours to walk through now. We are here together, uneasy, uncertain, maybe even unwilling. Yet, by your grace, we are here..." When I read this I realized that my Lenten journey this year is not the same as it was last year. Nor will it be the same as next years. We all know God calls us all to different life journeys and I'm now realizing that God calls us to different Lenten journeys as well. Lent is about more than the things we give up and the purple which adorns the sanctuary. It's about going deep into the desert and trusting God along the way...

What sort of journey are you on? To what is God calling you during this Lenten season?

peace, love, and all things good,

emily

[agitation]

one of my new favorite quotes:

"Rocks need to be thrown in to start the

waves moving out from the circle."

-- The Women who Broke all the Rules, S. Evans and J. Avis

[easy out]

Please don't think you can get away with dropping off a donation and get on a high horse because you did something good for a couple homeless people.

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I'm not saying don't do it. Just don't be arrogant about it.

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Get to know people. Be the hands of feet of Christ, for God's sake (literally...). Get out of your box and onto the streets. Stop living in a bubble. Do something for once.

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Seriously.