It’s dark because you are trying too hard.
Lightly child, lightly.
Learn to do everything lightly…
Even though you’re feeling deeply…
Lightly let things happen
and lightly cope with them…
On tiptoes and with no luggage...
Completely unencumbered.
-Aldous Huxley

I should be working

But I'm obviously not. This will continue to be a trend in my graduate work in all likelihood and I am okay with that.

It has been a while since I have written in this space so I should do a bit of catching up. I am now living in Ann Arbor with my wonderful little pup Lolli. Overall, I feel like the Midwest has opened its arms wide and welcomed me home. The slower pace here, the little conversations at the grocery store with strangers, fits me in a way that I had forgotten.

I have enjoyed flipping through this blog and my older blog (http://mydivinityschooljourney.blogspot.com/) and reflecting on the past few years. I went from one graduate school to another, changed religious traditions, had my first "real job," and moved across the country. A lot has changed and I find myself thinking of that popular line - "Want to give God a good laugh, then tell him your plans."

For now, in this moment of quiet when I should be doing work, I am trying not to have plans and just enjoy the feeling of home in this big Michigan mitten.

Lions, Tigers, & Dolphins

I remember wandering around the zoo as a young child with my father; my little hand dwarfed in his as I bounced along. As we traveled he asked me to look at the animals and say what I thought they were feeling. I ventured a guess and he responded with clue to make the process easier. It quickly became clear to me that some animals expressed themselves in ways that were recognizable to my child mind and others were a bit more complicated. "Some birds will spread out their feathers when they are scared to try to look bigger," he explained, "jaguars sometimes pace when they are stressed."

The day ended at the dolphin exhibit. "Happy!" I declared, watching them swimming around with their big smiley noses. My father kneeled down, "Jessica, dolphins' faces make it look like they are smiling but that does not mean they are happy inside. They do not have control over how their face looks the way we do, so we have to look really deeply to figure out how they are feeling." That message sticks with me.

Many of us tend to live like the dolphins. We force a smile, a laugh, even some tears - where there are none. This is particularly tragic because our faces are not trapped in a smile, we have a choice. Of course it is not always that simple, there are lots of reasons why wearing our heart on our sleeve is problematic.

Still, I think the world would be a better place if people shared more and hid less.

In Memory

A colleague of mine passed away last night. She was older, struggled with her health - so in some ways her passing was expected, in some ways unexpected.

When death happens, I find that I envy the Buddhists. For the most part, they don't draw a strict line between those that are dead and those that are alive like we in the West tend to. Instead, death and life are partners - just like your left hand and your right hand - one cannot exist without the other. As I type now using both my hands in tandem, so do the worlds of life and death work in tandem.

Looking at death that way, it feels far less dramatic. Mourning is appropriate, and of course welcome, but the road to acceptance seems much shorter and her passing more peaceful.

So let this be my little cyber-prayer: Peace to her in her passing, and peace to those whose lives she touched in ways she did know and ways she did not know. May we remember that she remains as much our partner today, as she was in the lifetime she shared with us before. Amen.

Ms. Mary

After spending some time thinking about Mary, I have a new found affinity for her - her struggles, challenges, and voice in the scriptures. I gave a little homily on Christmas Eve on the wonders of Mary. I share it below:

Tonight, we imagine Mary in the manger holding the Christ child in her
arms. Often we think of her holding the perfectly clean baby, her hair
gently flowing over her shoulders, her body wrapped in a cozy wool
blanket. This tidy image is lovely, but there is something about it that
is also untouchable – and it’s not real.

We forget when Mary welcomed Christ to earth that faithful night, she also
invited the first century’s version of diapers in to her life. For Jesus
was both God and man, and I bet Mary knew his humanness deeply. She was
reminded of it each time she burped her new child on her shoulder and when
he cried waking her up in the middle of the night. She was reminded of it
later as she watched his body grow through the gangly transition from boy
to man, and listened to him argue for a later bed time.

Mary was likely glowing with all the shine of a young mother that December
night – but I bet she was also scared. Scared of dropping him, of not
giving her precious baby enough nourishment. Still, God chose her – not
because she had some special training, but because she was one of us.
Beautiful, flawed and human.

Tonight, on Christmas Eve, we remember the miracle of God on earth – and
all that entails. Yet, through Mary we also remember that Jesus was a man,
a human being. And just as Mary loved the humanness of her son, so does
God love us in our humanness. God loved us when we were young and
vulnerable on our parent’s shoulder, and as we argued to stay later at the
mall with friends – and God continues to love us as we negotiate with all
the ups and downs of an uncertain life in hectic times.

This is just one of the many miracles of Christmas. That in the midst of
the magic was people, learning, growing, and loving in all of their
beautiful flawed humanness – just like us.

Take that Ann Rand

In the last two years, I made the transition to a NPR listening New Englander. I love This American Life, The Moth, and Radiolab. Good stuff, however nerdy.

As the child of two wildlife biologists, Darwin's Origin of Species was read to me as a bed time story. As much as loving Darwin is a part of my blood, the idea of natural selection does not leave much room for altruism or taking a risk for another. In this wonderful show, the folks at Radiolab consider just that question and wonder if evolution accounts for selfless giving.

overheard at HDS

Divinity School is an odd, odd place. Harvard Divinity School in particular is especially quirky - charming in its quirky-ness, but still very quirky. Thankfully in part to the wonders of facebook many former HDS-ers have chronicled some of the gems uttered by my HDS family. Here are a few of my favorites:

Overheard in Hebrew Bible Class: Student 1: "Where can I learn more about the theme of exile and return?" Answer from student 2: "Maybe you should ask a Jewish person." Response from student 1: "Ok, I guess I'll just ask myself then and get an answer." 

"I was going to get a ceramic hip replacement, but then I thought ceramic could break. What if my ceramic hip broke while doing a yoga headstand?" - Professor on science's hermeneutical nature. 

3rd year law student: "I'm taking a joint-law school/divinity school class next semester with a Catholic priest." 

3rd year divinity student: "The death of religion?"
3L: "Well, the future of religion, but yes, same thing."

3D: "Oh, and that professor from the Divinity School isn't a priest. He's Francis." 

3L is left very confused