A full weekend

I had such a terrific weekend. I want to share some of it. 

First, events. 

On Saturday, the Open Arms ministry held their soup lunch which raises funds for the food pantry service they run. This is one of those "empty bowls" events to which people donate soup and bowls, and you're supposed to be able to bring the bowl you ate out of home as a constant reminder of those who are needy, in your community and beyond. 

However, there are not enough bowls contributed to this event for that to work, so everyone eats out of the Meetinghouse's plastic bowls, and the donated ceramic bowls are for sale. 

It does not have the same effect. 

Apparently the event, which had lines out to the street the first year, has seen a precipitous drop in its popularity since it came to resemble a bean supper amongst the town's elderly. Taking the bowl home was the novelty, and the party favor. I think they need to rethink this event of not have it. 

After lunch, Lisa, another YAF, and I went to 10 Minute Plays on Trayvon, Race and Privilege at Earlham. It was meaningful, but made all the better by the community discussion that took place afterwards, in which many people of color and of whiteness spoke about, praised and criticised elements of the production. Theater is to be talked about!!

That night I went to Connorsville with Mary Alice to see Godspell. While I was fairly horrified by some of the ways religion and following Jesus were portrayed, both in the lyrics and in this particular staging (people blindly agreeing to baptism and then appearing as if they had just won the lottery and had a makeover) it was nice to see some energetic community theater, and to support Jesus, who is a member of West Richmond Friends. 

Sunday had its own joys in store. 

The first were textual. The morning's readings were all from the New Yorker, and covered lots of ground, culturally and geographically. 

Looking toward a cashless society: 

http://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2016/10/10/imagining-a-cashless-world

A challenge to Uber (which I fell in love with while I was in DC)

http://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2016/10/10/juno-takes-on-uber

Not all those who are voting for Trump are who you think they are: 

http://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2016/10/10/in-the-heart-of-trump-country


Meeting was great (we distributed pies for our Christmas dinner ministry). Then College Meeting for Worship was truly excellent, with a message from Hashem, a Palestinian student who spoke about resistance and about the difficulty of knowing how to relate to home. There was not a dry eye in the house, and the unprogrammed part after the talk was filled with people who spoke up about how much Hashem's example meant to them, and how significantly he had influenced and inspired them. It was absolutely beautiful; a kind of tribute to both Palestine and Hashem. 

Cincinnati's Freedom Center

Aletha told me on Thursday that she was taking her students to the Freedom Center, the museum of the Underground Railroad in Cincinnati, on Friday. I asked if she had an extra seat, and went along.

I had not encountered a timeline or many of the facts of the Underground Railroad since junior year of high school when I took U.S. History. I had forgotten, for example, that the international slave trade was outlawed in 1807 (effective 1808), or that Britain began emancipating slaves in its colonies in the early 1830s.

It was powerful to be reminded of the stories of individual runaways who, having been sold down the river through the internal slave trade, which continued until 1865, escaped north. Even once across the Ohio river (poignantly framed by the massive, southern facing windows of the Freedom Center) former slaves were not safe, thanks to the Fugitive Slave Act which allowed slave owners to pursue them into non-slave states, and punished anyone who helped slaves escape.

Two things struck me about the exhibit (which is only part of the museum's purview: it also has sections on slavery today, mass incarceration, and a contemporary photography exhibit). The first was the importance of literacy and literature for slaves. Before literacy was important as a tool for survival during the escape, literacy led slaves to understand what freedom was. Imagine being a slave and reading about the Israelites, enslaved in Egypt and eventually freed into the promised land. Reading stories of other slaves fuelled those still in servitude. I hope to bring up this important function of literature when we study Fahrenheit 451 in a few weeks, which raises the question of the value of literature in the culture.

The second thing was the complete lack of a recognition of the role faith plays in the lives of slaves and those who helped them escape to freedom. There is credence paid to courage and perseverance, but I have the impression from my own outside reading of fiction and poetry that faith in God kept many going who otherwise would have given up the fight for justice.

"A band of angels" might also mean a band of angels.

For example, there was a small interactive panel that showed the lyrics to slave songs: Swing Low, Sweet Chariot, Wade in the Water, and Follow the Drinking Gourd. You could hit a button and hear some measures sung, then you heard an explanation of what the lyrics meant. The interpretations were painfully literal. "The old man" who's "a-comin' for to carry me to freedom" might be, they say, the people on the Underground Railroad who helped the slaves. And while "Wade in the Water" reminded people to get into the rivers to lose the scent of slave hunting dogs, there was no mention of the allusion to the Red Sea, which was "troubled" when God moved to help the Israelites escape. Indeed, the idea of getting into the water, the very water that God is going to trouble, seems to me to be a broader invitation to join the cause for justice - get into God's way so that when he moves, you'll move in the right direction with him!

I suppose the museum is for younger children, for whom abstract ideals might be harder. But then, perhaps the abstract ideals are harder for adults, who are less accustomed than youth to using their imagination and having faith in things they cannot see.