The Women Are Gathering

On Saturday, January 21, 2017, I was in Cincinnati to speak to a group of active and retired teachers about a historic perspective on human trafficking. In 1885, a coalition of activist women, a prominent newspaper editor, and religious leaders made an impassioned plea to the British Parliament through public demonstrations, advocating for the rights of young women. Because of their efforts, the hearts and subsequent votes of the political leaders of their day were changed, raising the age of consent.

As I recounted this fascinating story of Eliza and the Midwife, the progeny of those nineteenth century advocates were gathering in Wooster and Washington, in the Big Apple and the City of Angels, and in hundreds of other cities and towns around the globe, marching to proclaim that women’s rights are human rights, and human rights are women’s rights. The guiding principles of these marches, with an estimated four million-plus participants world-wide, were based on the belief that women, all women, must be “free and able to care for and nurture their families, however they are formed, in safe and healthy environments free from structural impediments.”

Later that evening, as I scrolled through the hundreds of posts flooding social media, I was overwhelmed by the images appearing on my computer screen. An elderly woman, wrapped in fur, who’d lived in the Japanese-American internment camps of World War II, marched. Women dragging IV poles down the hallway of the cancer ward, patients and nurses together, marched. A child high on her father’s shoulders marched, claiming the promise: “I vote in fourteen years.” Wheelchairs, walkers, strollers, all bearing their occupants forward amidst waves and waves of people as they marched. They marched in a sea of feline-shaped hats in hues of pink, redeeming an ugly locker room slur into a powerful image of protest. “This,” they intoned, “is what democracy looks like.”

I marched as well this first month of 2017. Perhaps because its organizers were headed to the mother march in D.C., Columbus women marched to the statehouse in Ohio a week early. It was probably the first time since my premature birth that I’ve been early for anything, but I showed up. My friend Judy and I made the trek to Columbus to bear early witness and to silently pray for our country and for the rights of the many vulnerable people who live “from sea to shining sea.”

There we were, our little group of four, bundled up against the cold: myself, Judy, her son, and her young grandson. Judy, a veteran of the sixties and Selma, led us on as we chanted, greeted each other, displayed our signs, documented our presence through our cellphones, and claimed our first amendment right to gather, to protest, to speak for those who have no voice.

Over the course of American history, people of our country have marched to stand in solidarity, and to draw attention to actions which threaten the lives of vulnerable people. The abolitionists marched. The social reformers marched. The suffragettes marched. The civil rights protesters marched. And in 2017, the women marched, and will keep marching.

I was telling the lovely Madelyn Simone a bit about my participation in the march, and she asked if I knew about the lady who sat down on the bus, or about the man who used to march but was killed at the motel. Yes, Madelyn, I know about Mrs. Parks and about Reverend King. I’m grateful for their example of non-violent protest, for their belief that equality, justice and nondiscrimination are American values. I sensed their spirit with us as we marched.

Will 2017’s marchers gaze upon their pink hats with fondness as they crawl back into their privileged lives, as some suggest? Or will these young women, old women, poor women, wealthy women, women of differences and women of sameness (along with the men who joined them), participate in respectful dialogue, get involved in sustained grassroots movements, and continue to speak, for men and for women? If my Facebook feed is any indication, the marchers are rolling up their sleeves and getting to work so our nation might remain indivisible, with liberty and justice for all, women included.

Habits

Last summer, I found a great bargain in the dollar bin at a sidewalk sale: a Christmas rug that plays “Jingle Bells” for at least thirty seconds whenever someone steps on it. Placed in the front hallway of our home, its increasingly annoying notes rang through the house frequently. When the delightful Elizabeth Holiday came to visit, the toddler discovered her power over the music, and went out of her way to activate its mechanism as often as she could.

Bah-humbuggers that we are, Larry and I got in the habit of stepping over the rug so we didn’t have to hear the melody one more time, as its one-horse open sleigh was getting on our last nerves. Now, however, two weeks after the offending rug was consigned to the basement storage closet, we’re still in the habit of stepping over the mat that sits in the same place. I also witnessed Elizabeth jumping on the replacement rug with a quizzical look, wondering what happened to the music.

Habits. Charles Duhigg, author of “The Power of Habit,” explains that every habit starts with a psychological pattern called a “habit loop,” a three-part process. First, there’s a cue, or trigger – in our case, the annoyance at hearing a tinny rendition of “Jingle Bells” one more time, which tells the brain to go into automatic mode and allow for a behavior to unfold.

“Then there’s the routine, which is the behavior itself,” stepping over the rug. “That’s what we think about when we think about habits,” says Duhigg, “the behavior.” The third step is the reward, something your brain likes that helps it remember the “habit loop” in the future. When we stepped over the rug, we were rewarded by the silence.

I had to chuckle at an 2012 NPR interview with Duhigg, for they used the example of parallel parking to introduce the topic of habit. “At first, parallel parking was difficult and you had to devote a lot of mental energy to it. But after you grew comfortable with parallel parking, it became much easier –almost habitual, you could say.” Never worked out that way for me, as I’d drive blocks to avoid having to parallel park. Now, though, I’ve got a back-up camera in my car so I’m good to go!

Habits, of course, can be positive or negative. Brushing our teeth on a regular basis is a great habit to maintain throughout our lives, but biting our nails or chewing on our hair are not so good. The good news is that it’s never too late to break a habit. “Habits,” Duhigg tells us, “are malleable throughout your entire life. But we also know that the best way to change a habit is to understand its structure – that once you tell people about the cue and the reward and you force them to recognize what those factors are in a behavior, it becomes much, much easier to change.”

We often use the advent of a new year to commit to changing our habits, either stopping familiar ones or developing new ones, and often wonder why we have a hard time doing so. As I learned from Duhigg, one of the problems is that our environment tends to reinforce habits. Have you ever noticed that when you’re on vacation your habits may not seem so entrenched? That’s because when the cues change, the patterns of behavior are broken up. That’s why the best time to quit smoking or start an exercise routine is on vacation.

My singing Christmas rug proves how quickly and unintentionally new habits can be formed. It’s also caused me to ask what positive habits I might develop if, instead of trying to avoid the annoyances of life, I step toward a habit loop to enrich my life and the lives of others. As British writer James Allen understood, “The law of harvest is to reap more than you sow. Sow an act, and you reap a habit. Sow a habit, and you reap a character. Sow a character, and you reap a destiny.” It may not be time for vacation, but perhaps it is time to do some habit-sowing.

Obama Out

As Salvation Army officers, Larry and I have been on the receiving end of “farewell orders,” the term used to tell us, “it’s time to go.” Once those orders were communicated, we shifted into farewell mode, packing our belongings, cleaning the parsonage, clearing out our e-mail in-boxes, and preparing our farewell sermons. What could we possibly say in our last words to a people we’d come to love?

In one of those farewell messages, I turned to a poignant line from “The Help” for my introduction. As the family’s maid, Aibileen Clark would put the young Mae Mobley to bed with these words: “You is kind, you is smart, you is important.” When Aibileen was fired, those were her parting words to the little girl, reminding her one last time: “This is who you are.”  

I was given Aibileen’s words as a Christmas gift, and as I look at them above my desk, I’m reminded of those days of farewell and my desire to share parting words of encouragement with my congregation. As another family faces their own “farewell orders,” I’ve been wondering what words President and Mrs. Obama would speak to the American people as they prepare to leave the White House.

Barack and Michelle Obama have chosen to speak their farewell through a number of forums. Michelle told those attending a White House awards ceremony last week of her hope for the youth of our country. “I want our young people to know that they matter, that they belong. So don’t be afraid. You hear me, young people? Don’t be afraid. Be focused. Be determined. Be hopeful. Be empowered. Empower yourself with a good education. Then get out there and use that education to build a country worthy of your boundless promise. Lead by example with hope, never fear.”

She also talked with Oprah about her hopes and dreams for the future. I’d seen the funny yet agonizing video of Michelle’s CVS trip with Ellen DeGeneres, so I wasn’t surprised that the ability to be anonymous was a painful sacrifice she had to make as First Lady. “There’s nowhere I can go in the world and just sit at a table and have a cup of coffee and watch the world,” Michelle noted. I’m going to remember her words when I’m tempted with the desire to be a world-famous author!

I especially appreciated the image she painted for Oprah and for us. “My desire for this country is that we remain hopeful and that we find a place in our hearts to love each other. It’s really simple, you know? Just opening up our hearts to others. Making room.”

I expected to hear similar themes when I tuned into President Obama’s farewell speech. After all, Barack Obama is the author of the book, “The Audacity of Hope,” and despite all that he has seen, heard, and experienced, hope continues to be his mantra for the future of our country and its people.

While he didn’t quote Aibileen, the message rang throughout his last words: “This is who you are, Americans,” or perhaps better stated, “This is who we can be.” His final plea was impassioned: “I am asking you to hold fast to that faith written into our founding documents; that idea whispered by slaves and abolitionists; that spirit sung by immigrants and homesteaders and those who marched for justice; that creed reaffirmed by those who planted flags from foreign battlefields to the surface of the moon; a creed at the core of every American whose story is not yet written: Yes we can.” We can pursue “our individual dreams through our sweat and toil and imagination,” and hold firm to the imperative “to strive together, as well, to achieve a common good, a greater good.”

Some may hear only more political rhetoric, but I heard the man, the woman. As writer Diana Bass notes, “President Obama’s entire speech was clothed in gratitude – for all that is good, for the gifts we’ve all been given, for the courage to embrace and protect those gifts.” Thank you, Mr. President, for the audacity of hope. Thank you, Mrs. Obama, for making room. Might you and your family “fare well.”