Friday, December 4, 2015

A Response to San Bernadino and The Daily News


I will start by saying that I have fond memories of the smell of Hoppe's oil and melting lead. I loved sending the weight down the long barrel of my father's or grandfather's or uncle's or brother's rifle when they came back from hunting-- sending the weight down and tugging the wad of cotton rag through the barrel to clean it.  I have popped out primers, watched liquid metal be poured into molds to become bullets, and helped crimp shut the top of shotgun shells.  I have, in fact, drawn diagrams of shotgun shells and explained to others the science behind why they work and watched a deer head be prepared at the hand of a master taxidermist.

I have also driven a car that had its back end loaded down with many hundreds of rounds of live ammunition, multiple firearms, a collection of bows, a quiver of arrows, Ball canning jars of arrow tips, and a bag of knives. More on this in a bit.

And, I am sickened, absolutely sickened, when I read about or I see on the news or I hear about yet another mass shooting.

I am sickened because there are ways to reduce the likelihood that it will happen again and lawmakers consistently, obstinately, blindly, refuse to enact the necessary legislation in the all holy name of the Constitution.

I am sickened because we are now living in an age when planning and carrying out mass shootings seems like a right reaction to perceived injustice.

I am sickened because every time I see police in all of their riot gear, padded out, ready to "take out" or "shut down" or "neutralize" I hear the words "No, we can't help you because we are not in the habit of taking the private property of citizens."

That trunk full of weaponry and live rounds of ammunition? That was in the possession of a man who was actually barred by the state from having it.  And yet, he did. And I was trying to get rid of it responsibly. So, I called the police. And they were no help. None. Even with the paperwork from that same state that said he was not to have it.

These are the same police who I called to ask about whether they would come to the house if I found anything else when I was clearing out belongings. And they said no.

Sadly, I can't even cry out "UNBELIEVABLE." Because it isn't at all unbelievable.

And yet we wonder.  We consistently wonder and act surprised.  Or worse, accept these shootings as a part of our reality, as part of the price we pay for the right to own a gun.

What a sick, convoluted, interpretation of what a bunch of musket-bearers laid down in the Constitution.

And same time, people are actually getting upset over the recent Daily News headline that says "God isn't Fixing This."

I actually applaud the paper. And I think they are right. 

I believe God cares beyond measure about humanity's well-being.  I believe God is indignant and aches terribly to see what is happening.  I KNOW I was praying mightily while driving that car...praying no one hit me...and I KNOW I have prayed over and again to do and to say what God would have me do and say in difficult circumstances...including when finding out that the police had no interest in helping me do the right, safe, thing.  I believe God calls me to Love. Calls me to be compassionate and just and the fullness of who God created me to be. God calls me to heal, to bind up, to visit, to care, to do my part.  God fascinates and astounds me and fills me with wonder at the generous experiences I have had with God's tenderness and fidelity.  "Nothing can separate you from my love" is a foundation stone for me and a call to go forth into the world and do what I can to make it better for as many people as possible.

And while I have given my life to this Love as a Roman Catholic woman religious, God will not stop the wrong guns from being in the hands of the wrong people.  God alone will not change our culture, our indifference, or the fact that some people do terrible deeds for reasons we may never understand and to which we respond with dropped jaws and open carry laws and petrified children.

God inspires people, strengthens people. Us. You, me, the lawmakers, the person in the checkout line buying another box of hollow points and another gun to add to their personal arsenal because it's allowed.

Are we called to something better, something other?  We must make that choice.  We must be the ones to fix this.  By the laws we pass, by the choices we make, by our attitudes, our decisions, by what we say, how we act, and what we call our neighbor to as well.

So yes, pray.  Pray harder than ever.... I do believe Love will ultimately triumph over evil. 

At the same time, use the intellect, the reason, the sense, the capacities we have been given as human beings, to change the laws and systems for good.

Or, don't gape the next time another mass shooting happens.  It's on us. Not God.

Advent II, 2015


Advent II, 2015

Oh glory, there is
a need,
such a need…

to leap alive
in a defiantly clamorous,
bold and passionate,
proclamation of birth:

The birth of Love come down
to breathe, sing,
dance, cry out,
in radiant, Hallelujah,
hope.

Kimberly M. King RSCJ


(photo is used with permission
www.flickr.com/photos/alicia-li/2556997888)

Saturday, November 28, 2015

Landscapes far and near

I have just come from two hours of unbounded-ness. Two hours that included conversations with a coffee purveyor, a baker, a seller of brussel sprouts, and a small baby quite taken with the rose color of my corduroy shirt; that pair of hours included reading from a book called The Old Ways by Robert Macfarlane about his walking of ancient pathways in the world, their topo/geo/graphy, their geology, and their influence on the person (this chapter is about Palestine); I wrote to several friends in other places and also spent some of the time simply watching and listening to all that surrounded me from my vantage point on the steps of our local Farmers Market by the harbor.

I love these letting go moments...when I am able to be within mind and heart and book and surroundings all at the same time...when the confluence of all is murmuring "home" in a harmony of voices.

I am finding Macfarlane's book an exquisite read. His use of language, the topic, and the images he shapes with his syllables have me aching for moments to read...and to read in open spaces because the feeling inside me needs room. Yesterday I copied out some lines after reading about his friend who handed him a feather carved from dolorite with a whale rib as a spine.

~~The feather was cool on my hands and impossibly heavy. Its density seemed supernatural. It longed to fall, dragging my arms down. This was its brilliant contradiction as an object--it was a feather that yearned for the earth, a flight-object supercharged with gravity.~~ The Old Ways, p. 175

A flight-object supercharged with gravity...

When I read that I thought YES!! I understand that!! The yearning to be grounded and the ache to fly...to be free...to find ways to embody both, to make known both... and isn't that the nature of The Love to which I have given my life...both grounded and unbound... a call to presence and a call to freedom... a call to Be and a call to Go Forth... A call to trust in the foundation of God and in the wind of the Spirit.

 

Wednesday, November 25, 2015

Advent I 2015

Advent I, 2015

This Waiting Time

 

Now is not

a passive time. Indeed,

the world can not bear

any more indifference.

 

I wish to wait with a passion

akin to the vigilant stars

who allow the day her spectacle

until the night has bloomed:

 

Unafraid and

full ablaze,

visible briefly but oh,

ever intensely.

 

Kimberly M. King, RSCJ

 

(photo used with permission, blog.aladin.co.kr)

 

 

Sunday, November 15, 2015

Early Advent, 2015

 

An Early Advent, 2015

 

It is in this

here, this

now, this

aching,

dream-strewn

shimmer,

that I dare

to raise

my spirit

and summon

a prayer

that has passed

through all

that has passed

through me,

gathering

an urgency

I can not bear

contain: COME!

 

COME!

in my every

opportunity

to soothe

to anoint

to heal

to grace.

 

COME!

in my thinking

in my writing

in my speaking

in my doing.

 

COME!

In my dreaming

in my living

in my hoping

In my loving.

 

COME!

Inspire us.

COME!

Embolden us.

COME!

Sustain us.

 

Until in a riot of glory,

in a full blossom of peace,

the world can sigh

and begin to heal.

 

Kimberly M. King, RSCJ

 

Thursday, October 29, 2015

Riotous Glory

Riotous Glory
 
The branches are tipped
in riotous glory.
There is no whispering now--
only a fullness
of unflinching colors
boldly presenting themselves
before the great inevitable
fallow time before
a fresh becoming.
Do I dare
desire likewise for myself?
 
Kimberly M. King, RSCJ

 

Friday, September 4, 2015

The Early Watch

Early Watch


Coffee is my company

in this faith profession

from a rocking chair.

 

I am all for you—and you,

you are all for me, all for

each; love-awed you

are for each and you are for all.

 

And this glory dance

that you conduct into being

is your magnum opus blooming

in light steeped color:

 

Another day.

Another chance.

World without end.

 

Amen, amen, amen.

 

--Kimberly M. King, rscj--