tion take innumerable systemic forms. Whether it’s racial justice, climate justice, or the full and unqualified acceptance of gay, les- bian, bisexual, and transgender in- dividuals, God – as I hear her call to me – delights in every boundary and division that we strike down. Justice is a symptom of right
relationship. It’s a big word, jus- tice, but it’s not just a condition in the world “out there” – it can also be present in the small, intimate spaces between us and the people in our lives. There are times when I’ve experienced God not through grandeur or dramatic pivots to- ward justice (although those are nice, too), but simply through a moment of vulnerability with another person, or in receiving forgiveness more readily than I deserved. When we take the risk of “getting right” with someone in our lives, that, too, is justice.
Elastic hearts We are entitled to joy. God
loves us; we were made for the giv- ing and receiving of love. In fact, because God’s world is a glorious one, we were made to receive all of its pleasures and its joys. My faith teaches me that God dwells in that which is life-giving: seize it. I admit that I struggle with this sometimes. In this age of social media and instant news, it feels ir- responsible or callous (or both) to bask in a private happiness amidst a large-scale tragedy. Do I have the right to feel joyful, I’ve asked myself, when so many people are grieving this new loss? What I’ve settled on, as an
answer to that inner conflict, is that we all have the right to fully experience joy, but we don’t have the right to ignore the reality of the world’s pain, or to go numb in response. It’s an act of faith to make our hearts elastic enough to hold both, and to live in the place of Both/And. As educator (and
‘The sun will shine.’
Quaker) Parker Palmer writes, “We live in a tragic gap – a gap be- tween the way things are and the way we know they might be. It is a gap that never has been and never will be closed. ... We must learn to stand in the tragic gap.”
Playfulness and strength There is a time for playful-
ness. These are difficult times, thick with the fog of powerlessness – especially for those who live at the margins: people of color, sur- vivors of trauma, the uninsured, the gender non-conforming. Our communities of faith, and our collective gatherings for worship, are right to incorporate space for lamentation, for mourning, for sharing our sorrows together. I believe we also need to make space for playfulness, and for laughter (which writer Anne Lamott calls “carbonated holiness”). I’m lucky beyond measure to
serve a congregation that laughs frequently. We’re quick to smile, to make a gentle joke, to pull one another into a cloud of carbonated holiness. These are the building blocks of spiritual resilience, and resilient is what justice-makers need to be right now (... as op- posed to “crispy fried” and hover- ing on the edge of despair). We each have a small part.
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There’s a final piece of wisdom that has carried me throughout my faith journey of justice-making. It comes from the turn of the sec- ond century, when Rabbi Tarphon wrote, “It is not necessary for you to complete the work, but neither are you excused from undertaking it.” That we undertake this work together, sharing in its woes and triumphs, is what supplies me with strength. It’s a relief to remember that a single person – or a single congregation – does not need to turn the ship entirely, or all at once. We don’t have to save the world all by ourselves, but to turn away from the overwhelming task of repair is not an option. We serve and repair the world with compas- sion because we are compelled to, as members of the human family living interdependently.
ERIKA HEWITT is Minister of Wor- ship Arts, Unitar- ian Universalist Association. In her work for the
Association, she oversees a collec- tion of worship resources. This free online collection, WorshipWeb, houses over 2,200 individual li- turgical components, music, and digital memes. You can browse the collection at
uua.org/worship.
ways to bring awareness of justice and joy into worship:
1. Staff a prayer station at communion with someone who will pray with persons needing forgiveness, healing, or have another need.
2. Incorporate space into worship for lamentation, for mourning, for sharing sorrows together. See WorshipArts January-February 2014 (
bit.ly/Lament-WAJF2018) for resources.
3. Make space for playfulness and for laughter.
4. Dance a song of lament, justice or joy such as “O Mary, Don’t You Weep” (
bit.ly/OMary-WAJF2018) or Psalm 85 (
bit.ly/Psalm85-WAJF2018).
5. Create a collaborative piece of art that expresses each person’s lament and joy.
__________________________________________________________________________________________________ January-February 2018 • WorshipArts •
www.UMFellowship.org
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