Woohoo! Got the grant! Oh, dear.

Yesterday I got an envelope from the Kentucky Foundation for Women saying I'm a recipient of an economic hardship grant that will fund my mailing an original collage and document to leadership in the United Methodist Church to stimulate conversation about the church's attitude toward homosexuality and women leaders. These funds, from an anonymous donor, are micro-grants. The maximum each person could request was $500.  My request was for $258.

The KFW letter goes on to say that 48 feminist social change artists requested funds; 24 were funded. The requests "bear powerful witness to the impact of the national recession on the feminist artist community in our state" and also "bear witness to the great strength, ingenuity and persistence that KFW grantees are demonstrating in seeking solutions to their financial hardships."  A check for $258 was enclosed.

I was totally happy until this morning when I re-read my grant proposal, in which I say I'M GOING TO CUT UP MY PREACHING ROBE and use it to make the collages. Good God, people.  What was I thinking? Why didn't you stop me?

It's the theological equivalent of flag-burning.  Let's be clear. I approve of flag burning as political statement, as performance art, as a way of knocking us out of the doldrums of familiarity, as free speech.  And if somebody else had told me she/he planned to chop up a preaching robe -- well, cool.  Free speech. Performance art. Political statement.  Let's get those fools to open their eyes that they may see glimpses of truth.  Right on, my sisters and brothers.

Right on, indeed. But it's my preaching robe. MY preaching robe.  My PREACHING robe. Embedded in its warp and woof is every day of my life from 1995 to 1998, when all was well with the world (or at least with Fred, my late husband); and when the congregation, God, and I danced -- a waltz, a tango, a Fox trot, the twist, the funky chicken, the swim -- on Sunday mornings.  I wore the robe when I performed my first baptisms (Bradley and Devin, two of my grandsons).  I wore the robe when I performed my final baptism (Seth, the baby my friend Lisa was pregnant with when she preached Fred's funeral).  The robe hung in my closet in South Carolina, and I brought it with me to Kentucky, and here I stuffed it into a sack and later I set the sack on a shelf in the garage.  I brought it back to the house after I wrote the grant proposal, and now the ratty old sack sits on a shelf in the laundry alcove.

I'm going to chop it up; I really am. And I'm going to make fiber collages of it and mail them to United Methodist leaders along with a statement, and I'm going to post that statement here, and I'm going to e-mail it to newspapers and magazines. But not quite yet.  Soon, but not quite yet. I want to hold on just a little longer to my preaching robe and to what it used to represent:  my life; my local church; a kind, open-hearted, open-minded, open-doored denomination.

New Day Dawning

The complexion of this blog is shifting.

**

The posts that precede this one come from three earlier blogs:

Way Ahead Threads, focused on fiber and other art;

Hot Flash Fan, focused on feminist art; and

Turbulence to Tranquility, weekly musings for the spiritually inclined.

**

Each of those topics will continue to receive attention, but the heart of this blog now is to document a movement to bring the church in general and the United Methodist Church in particular back to its senses. I left the UMC in 2005 after a Judicial Council decision that allows clergy to decide who is worthy of church membership. Perhaps if it had been a Southern Baptist to whom the pastor had refused membership, on the grounds that the person didn't believe in infant baptism, I'd see this issue differently. But it wasn't a Southern Baptist. It was an Episcopalian gay person; and the named reason was that he was gay. If he's not welcome, I'm not welcome. And so I resigned. Since then, I've been quiet about it. Now I'm beginning to talk.

**

I considered forming a nonprofit for this adventure. I thought of approaching other nonprofits to see about sharing their umbrella. But then I realized that giving up ordination was so costly that I don't want to be a nonprofit. For once in my life, I actually would like to make sufficient money to make a difference. I want to donate to causes that support our shared humanity, and I want to hire a book-keeper because I don't have time to run the numbers and she has too much time, thanks to cut-throat companies, venal financiers, and the layoffs they've spawned.

*

Plans are afoot.

*

You can help.

*

I need:

--Followers on this blog. Please sign up; and tell your friends.

----Cash for start-up costs.

--Stoles from clergy who have resigned their ordination for reasons of righteousness (so I can combine them with other materials and upcycle the stoles into art, to sell on this blog and perhaps other places).

-----Suggestions of unheralded organizations working toward social justice (because I'm going to donate a portion of the proceeds from the sale of the art to such organizations.)

*

Stay tuned for late-breaking news.

-------------------------------------------------------------------Photo credit: Michael C. Smith

Mary: The Paper Doll Project

If you live in or near Durham, North Carolina, scoot on over to St. Philip's Episcopal Church to see Mary: The Paper Doll Project by artist and Duke grad Carole Baker. This interactive exhibit offers 4 different cultural depictions of Mary, the mother of Jesus - and did I say they're paper dolls? That means you can change their clothes, just like you did when you were a kid.

I'm so sorry I can't be there for the opening on December 11.

One of the sponsors for this event is the Resource Center for Women and Ministry in the South. This organization, founded and directed by Jeanette Stokes, has offered energy, expertise, and (when circumstances have permitted) financial assistance to women pursuing creative and spiritual activities for more than 25 years. Current emphases are writing and visual arts, with a full calendar of events and workshops. Click on over and get on their mailing list; it's invigorating even if you don't live in the South.