I was commenting on a Facebook post by Martin Kelly and waiting on the water to boil for tea when I heard a rather forceful knock at our door. I waited to see if it came again before peeking out the window. On the lower step of our stoop stood a white man wearing a black suit and carrying a briefcase. I peeked through the curtains that separate our living room from the entry way and the black man at the door knocked again and saw me.
Oh crap. Now I have to answer the door.
I've forgotten their names, so I'll just call them Oscar and Edgar.
Oscar asks what I do to make the world a better place.
Wasn't expecting that. But I got to tell him about the things I am doing. I think he wasn't expecting my answer. So he switched the topic pretty quickly. He was there to extol the virtues of Bible reading.
"Do you read the Bible?" said Oscar.
I smiled. "That's complicated. I believe in continuing revelation."
He didn't know what that was, so I explained it to him.
He wanted to return to the necessity of reading the Bible and how the only way to change the world is through God's power. I countered that I believe that God's power in the world is through our actions, that even Jesus said that the only law above all others is to love thy neighbor as thyself.
"Yes yes!" said Oscar. He tried to offer me a Jehova's Witness pamphlet and I told him I'd never read it, that The Church (not all but most) have used the words of God to subjugate others, and that I'm more interested in living Jesus's words than hearing what any church had to say about them.
That was when Edgar piped up with a reframe of Oscar's words and tried to make the argument that you can only access God through an intermediary.
I was done and thanked them for their time. Oscar asked my name and said he'd come back when it was warmer.
I returned to the kitchen table shaking a little, and crying. I didn't understand my tears until I returned to Martin's Facebook post and remembered the other person I follow there whose posts halt my worldly worries for a time and reflect on my own action or, more likely, inaction on what I believe to be true, that God wants us to make the world better in all the ways we are able: Scott Holmes.
Then I realized where the tears were coming from: I am spiritually homeless. I have been a seeker all my life, trying out church after church, and never really finding a home that fully lives into its potential for being a positive force for good in the world. So I find inspiration when and where I can from many friends on Facebook and people I follow on Twitter (hard to call them friends, though I see as much of some of them as I see on Facebook). And knitting.
A side note: usually my activism and my knitting stay completely separate (except when I bring knitting to activist meetings) but last week at a knitting group in Grand Marais, MN, the two other white women asked me lots of questions about what I do and we got into a conversation about race and racism. Knitting makes me a better listener, and I think I was able to listen to them more deeply, and that made me want to be vulnerable too. I think it was a positive conversation and I may have done some good there.
I may have grief about being spiritually homeless, but I think I also have done more good in the world since leaving Quakers.
