outWORD by Matte Downey

  These past months have been a school for me and, I am sure, for many others. I am (re)learning how to wash my hands, how a virus spreads, what it means to live and work and play in the same spaces, how to navigate a barrage of (changing) information, how to host an online meeting, and probably most importantly, how much I can do without. I am also learning that systemic oppression and violence toward indigenous people and people of colour, a poisonous seed that European colonists planted in North America, has not been rooted out as many believe, but continues to grow and spread in our supposedly enlightened societies. I ask myself: how could we be so blind and apathetic to the blatant bias and brutality our neighbours experience on a daily basis?  We have no one to blame but ourselves. Let me rephrase that. We white f olks have no one to blame but ourselves. However, we are slow to do just that. Our first instincts are to avoid responsibility, shift blame, and change the top...

In Falling Upward , Richard Rohr writes: “I have prayed for years for one good humiliation a day, and then I must watch my reaction to it. ... I have no other way of spotting both my well-denied shadow self and my idealized persona.” [1] When I first read those words, I resisted them. Humiliating another person is a cruel and unkind act, so why would I ask to be on the receiving end of that? No one needs humiliation, do they? According to Christian saints, both ancient and contemporary, the answer to that question is an unqualified yes. As Rohr indicates, it is easy to lie to ourselves, especially if we are capable leaders. We want to believe that we are good at what we do, that people should look up to us, that we are mature and wise and special and perhaps even somewhat impressive. We swallow small doses of superiority and pride until we are immune to the distastefulness and deception. Rohr tells us that the most effective antidote to living falsely is accepting humiliation. ...

How are you doing? All good? I am doing pretty well, thanks for asking. Well, to be honest, I do have a bit of discomfort. Not so much externally, but inside. I am sitting at my desk, staring at a calendar mottled with deadlines, meetings, events, and tasks. None of that screams relaxation. Quite the opposite. Putting myself out there on a regular basis as a teacher and writer means that much of the time I experience some level of discomfort. Also, I have to admit that I feel inadequate a lot of the time. I have a good set of skills, but that is never enough when one is encountering people who need real comfort, real wisdom, and real friendship. What can I say or write that will be relevant? That will make any difference? That won’t be the same old trite words? That won’t be bordering on heresy? Many times, I feel like I am in over my head. One more thing. I am a tiny bit afraid. Afraid to fail. Afraid that no one will like me or what I bring to the table. Afraid that I ...

We live in a context of stratification where much of society is ordered into separate layers or castes. We are identified as upper class, middle class, or lower class. Our language reflects this up/down (superior/inferior) paradigm. We want to be at the top of the heap, climb the ladder of success, break through the glass ceiling, be king of the hill. This same kind of thinking seeps into our theology. When we talk about humility, we think mostly think in terms of lowering ourselves, willfully participating in downward mobility. This type of up/down language is certainly present in biblical texts (James 4:10 is one example), but I believe that the kind of humility we see in Jesus requires that we step outside of a strictly up/down paradigm. Instead of viewing humility as getting down low or stepping down a notch on the ladder of society, perhaps it is more helpful to think in terms of proximity and movement. Jesuit theologian, James Keenan, notes that virtues and vices are n...

Image from applyityourself.co.uk Recently, I was asked to speak at another church, and the passage of Scripture which was assigned to me was John 1:6-8. "There came a man commissioned and sent from God, whose name was John. This man came as a witness, to testify about the Light, so that all might believe [in Christ, the Light] through him. John was not the Light, but came to testify about the Light." (John 1:6-8, Amplified Bible) The first question I usually ask when reading something in the Bible is this: What does this tell me about God? Two things are immediately obvious - God is a sending God and God wants to communicate - but there is a third which merits a bit more attention. Though God could communicate directly with humanity, sending truth and love to every individual via some divine mind-and-heart-meld, God chooses to send messengers. Not only that, instead of introducing Jesus directly to the world as the main event, an opening, warm-up act appears as a precur...

Image from thefinancialbrand.com A nasty virus hit me a week ago on Thursday evening and laid me out for most of three days. I had proposals I was working on, a pile of paperwork on my dining room table that needed attention, preparations to make for church on Sunday, emails to answer, supplies to be bought, a house to clean, and laundry to be done. All of that was disrupted. The sickness rendered me unable to think, read, work, stand upright for any length of time, or do much else other than sleep and ingest the occasional protein smoothie. I thought of chocolate and had no interest. I thought of checking my email or Facebook and it just didn't seem to matter. I picked up a book and put it down again without even cracking it open. My fever finally broke Saturday evening, but I was still pretty useless the next day, my brain and body not capable of much. Monday morning, I woke up feeling almost normal. I decided to read a theology blog. My brain ate it up like it was the first ...

Image from theguardian.com September is here and school is about to start for another year. This term I will be working as both a teaching assistant and a research assistant in addition to finishing (fingers crossed) my doctoral dissertation (except for final rewrites). Some people have remarked that going from teaching a course at the university to being a teaching assistant seems like a step backwards. I don't see it that way. Every chance to be in the classroom is an opportunity to participate in another learning experience, a privilege I do not take for granted. Being a TA is a gift, actually: the professor does all the heavy lifting and takes ultimate responsibility for what happens in the course while I get to enjoy theological discussions and reading materials, grade (mostly) interesting assignments, answer questions from students, and exchange theological jokes with my fellow TA during class. No down side! Seriously, though, I have found that being a student and a lif...

When this happens, I have to choose which grammatical sin I'll have to make in order to send a tweet. Social media is very good at letting you know how much traction or clout you have, whether that is measured in likes, comments, retweets, numbers reached, followers, or shares. I like connecting with people via Facebook, I like writing this blog (most of the time) as a way of honing my communication skills while putting some ideas out there on subjects I am thinking about. I occasionally post on Twitter (my least favourite platform) and I love to post pictures on Instagram chronicling the interesting views I come across in life. At times, I do check how many readers on a particular blog, how many followers I have, and how many likes or favourites a post got. But it is a bit like seeing your salary in comparison to every one elses. Whereas before you might have been absolutely fine with how much you earned, when you see the numbers, discontentment is not far behind. Numbe...

Image from thefw.com I was reading a book a few weeks ago which said that according to a poll in the USA, the words people most want to hear are the following (in order of importance): 1. I love you. 2. I forgive you. 3. Supper's ready. The first one is no surprise. We all want to know we are loved, and we all doubt it. We all feel unloved or unlovable at times, probably because we most intimately know our own internal ugliness and essential unworthiness. We are all too aware of our lack of love, our lack of kindness, our lack of faithfulness, and our selfishness. If we are honest, the words, "I love you," can be unlikely. In spite of all our shortcomings, and perhaps because of them, we long to be unconditionally loved, to have kindness gifted to us, to have someone be a faithful lover and friend, and to be the recipient of unselfish acts, especially if we find it difficult to reciprocate. These words not only feed our basic human desire to belong, but give us hope...