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.

I feel the seasons everywhere
And I feel blessings in the air
Those seasons you have sown
You're gonna come into your own.

Seasons, walk into your season.

This is a song that we sang on the Marble Women’s Ministry Retreat by Donald Lawrence. Though the retreat  concluded almost two weeks ago, I still find myself “feeling seasons everywhere.” The theme was Dancing with God through the Seasons of Life. Though right now I should have my head and heart completely in preparations in Holy Week, part of me is still engaging that theme.

“Let us pray.

Our Father who art in heaven, you are the creator of heaven and earth. Me and my friends, here Lord you created in your own image and likeness, and you put love and care in our hearts that we should appreciate each other the way we are.

Forgive us our sins dear lord, the pain, the hatred towards each other, the deaths, thefts & destruction that we have committed. Our Lord Jesus Christ is an advocate that represents us before the Father. In quietness and trust, we will keep trusting you.

We pray dear Lord that you give us peace in Kenya that shall surpass all human understanding, because you are the Prince of Peace. Dear Lord, please give our leaders ears that can hear the cries of the people, the voices of reason and eyes that can see the wanton destructions that have so much tainted the beautiful image of our country—Beloved Kenya. Lord, Kenya is in your hands and we like King Jehoshaphat and King David, shall be still and know that you are the Lord, the Lord mighty in battle, the battle is not ours, it is the yours. We are safe in your hands dear Lord.

No one dear Lord chose to be the tribe he or she is, all of us were born in accordance to your own plan and you have destined all of us for a greater future.

Help us to love one another unconditionally.

We pray all these in Jesus' name. Amen."

I sat down this morning for prayer and found today’s portion of scripture:  “Jesus himself came near and went with them.” (Luke 24:15b NRSV)

But my mind is like a “herd of cats.” My thoughts are running, jumping, climbing the shelves, batting around small objects. While I sit in my meditation space, my mind travels to many locales: my son’s field trip today, the other son’s future nursery schooling, childcare, my upcoming Valentine’s date with my husband, meal planning for the next few days, my mother, the weather, my leadership teams. I am envisioning the upcoming Women’s Retreat. I am really thinking about the sermon that I am preaching tonight... somewhat nervous about the topic (officially “Unity with God”, which is a nice way of saying “Atonement”) and yet I am excited about the opportunity to proclaim that God’s grace and mercy are still alive and active in our world(s). There are a lot of mental “cats” in a very small space.