At our staff retreat last weekend, Evans and Jess explained our staff covenant to the spring semester newcomers, including myself. Influential to the writing of the covenant was the poem "With That Moon Language." The next day we listened to a podcast entitled The Inner Life of Rebellion. The following is a reflection on that podcast, our staff covenant, the poem and the warm conversation that ensued.
I’m still holding on to the idea of balancing talking and listening.
One of the speakers said that we all have a voice worth speaking, and things worth saying.
A voice worth speaking, things worth saying.
I was taught to listen and learn, which is good. But I think that at some point, I, we, also need to speak. A voice worth speaking, things worth saying.
Worth speaking, worth saying. Worth. Value.
It’s not just that we should say something, or that it is a duty to stand up and speak up, although sometimes it is. The emphasis is that what we have to say has value, we have value, worth.
The first conscious instance that I felt frustrated with not saying something was at work. In the summer, I work as a nursing assistant in a nursing home. Well, it’s not the best place to work. I love my job, I love working with the residents. But working with co-workers is difficult. And the nurses smoke a lot. They drink a lot of Mt. Dew. They’re not very nice. And no one (that works there) sees this as a problem. I mean, they do, but they also see it as something that just is. That’s how things are done. That’s just how things are.
It feels like the people that are actually trying to do their job well, treating residents with respect, dignity, are the ones that get screwed over. Respect, dignity, that doesn’t get residents to the dining hall on time. It doesn’t get them to bed “on time.”
And it seems that it’s like that for a lot of things. People that work “efficiently” without necessarily taking the time to think, to listen, to weigh, to question, are the ones that have the louder voice.
It’s hard to compete with that. But I think that it’s possible. And necessary.
Because we have a voice worth speaking, and things worth saying.
I, and people that question, should not shrink away from the fact that we question. It should be acknowledged and embraced. And I think that we, I, should be the first to do the acknowledging and the embracing.
I also think that this posture
A voice worth speaking, and things worth saying
is what is behind moon eyes.
There is chutzpah, and idealism, with having this perspective. Some would interpret this as naivete, greenness, inexperience. But mostly naivete, I think. Such silly hopes, to think you can create systemic change. To think you can keep the Sabbath. To think you can sustain your “idealism.” To think you make a difference. To think that what you are doing matters. To think you can be happy.
Such silly hopes, to think you can get from the bad simple, through the complexity, and to the good simple, to the wholeness.
I’m not even talking specifics yet. I’m not even being “excruciatingly specific” yet. [Insert your own hope here]. I’m just talking about the concept itself, the concept of moon eyes. We are met with so much more resistance, so much more criticism, when we actually do what we’re talking about.
But we shouldn’t shrink away from this. We shouldn’t shrink away from the criticism because then we get screwed over (perhaps this phrasing is not quite right...it creates too much of an us-them dynamic. But, I’m speaking generally, without the nuances of a specific situation, so I’ll keep it).
We shouldn’t shrink away from the criticism becausewe have a voice worth speaking, and things worth saying.
Believing this, and knowing this is true, is what characterizes an inner life of rebellion. And, hopefully, eventually, an outer life of rebellion, too.
I have a voice worth speaking, and things worth saying.
I.
The power of one. That’s another thing. Recognizing the power of one is part of inner rebellion. I mean, squirrels prevented humans from domesticating oak trees. That’s just kind of incredible!
But with the chutzpah, there has to be humility. And this balance is so hard.
But community makes it a lot easier. It diffuses the weight of the high and mighty labels of humility and rebelliousness.
Which brings me to another point: labels. This was mentioned in the podcast briefly, how labels are dangerous. I agree. What is interesting is that what is considered “rebellion” is simply how things should be. We talked about this. Martin Luther King Jr. can be labeled as being rebellious. But what he demanded for a people, the hope that he had, that’s how things should have been! Jesus was countercultural, he was a rebel. But what he lived and preached is how things should be!
We can’t put too much weight on labels. We can’t make them be too special. We can’t paint the thing (rebellion, truth, honesty, humility, whatever else) to be so rare that it seems exotic to us. We can acknowledge that the thing is rare, but we also have to acknowledge that it is ordinary. Rare-exotic is bad. Rare-ordinary is good. Rare-exotic is distancing and alienating and othering. Rare-ordinary acknowledges that something is not very common, but also that it should be common, and that is why it is ordinary. It’s how things should be.
So. I have a voice worth speaking, and things worth saying. Moon eyes. Chutzpah. Rebellion. Squirrels. Humility. Community. Labels. More humility. And I’ll throw in more community, too.
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