By November, though, most of the trees are bare, and the leaves have either been trampled on or swept away. Still, there is beauty in the bleakening landscape. The show is over, but we're still here, say the naked branches and tree trunks.
I thought about this today during my weekly trek from the Divinity School down to Yale's main campus, and I thought about how exposure is good. When the glory and the show end, we're left with skeletons and structures. We see clearly what's behind the facade. This is what is happening at Yale.
Last Friday, the Dean of YDS held a listening session to hear from students of color. Most of those who spoke were women, and the honesty was raw and brutal at times, hopeful and encouraging in other moments. Everyone in the room was profoundly affected--even destabilized--by the conversation.
Over the weekend, I had some time to recover from an intense week, which had begun with me stopping by Monday's March of Resilience at Yale; progressed into spending hours on Facebook reading articles, writing posts, and fielding questions and comments from West Coast friends (mostly Asian males, interestingly); and finally ended with Friday's conversation at the Divinity School.
Over the weekend, I took some international students on a hike and scored a goal in the YDS Paracleats' semi-final soccer game. I went to church, worked on papers, and tried to get some sleep. I also attended a planning meeting for a special chapel service that happened this morning--in solidarity for Yale Undergrads.
This chapel service has been a long time in coming. Last spring, there were hints of revival at YDS, especially during chapel services featuring the Gospel Choir. When you see students across cultures and denominations all being physically and emotionally moved by praise music, you know that change can't be far away.
This morning, chapel lasted longer than usual. More faculty, staff, and students attended than usual. And the music spoke more powerfully than usual.
By the end of the service, we'd all formed a large circle, linking arms, holding hands, and singing "Break Every Chain" and "Lean on Me." Several voices had spoke--women and men of color, reading in various languages (I did Lamentations 3:53 in Chinese)--and many other voices had sung in unison to music of hope and strength.
Since the beginning of this semester, I have been spiritually drained but fiercely hopeful. I had a feeling that new wine was getting ready to be poured into our community, but new wine needs new wineskins.
***I had to take a break from this blog post to put this on Facebook:
Singing in Solidarity for an extended chapel service with the Gospel Choir--and hearing from a variety of cultures and languages--this is exactly what Yale Divinity School needed, and I am so grateful for and exhausted from an amazing day on campus!
All semester long--in fact, I sensed this as early as this past summer--I have been telling my fellow sisters of color that new wine is getting ready to be poured into our community. But new wine needs new wineskins, otherwise things will explode. It is now clear to me that new wineskins means systemic and institutional changes, and that the time to fight for those things is now. So proud of my sisters and brothers who have taken such initiative to take action, and so honored to stand with you!
Thanksgiving is next week, and I have so much for which to be grateful.
When I accepted the position of Community Life Co-Coordinator at YDS, I knew I was getting myself into a lot more than I could handle. Every week, I've had to ask for Grace and lean into that Grace. I've made it thus far, and I will make it to the end.
When I began my CLC job, I was emotionally and spiritually drained by the abundance of meetings and events I had to attend or put on. I hated walking onto campus because I could feel how needy and broken people were, and interaction after interaction would suck the life out of me. I was happy to escape downtown two days a week to get away from the Div School.
Today's walk downtown felt different, though. The pain of loving my YDS Community had lessened. I had been loving it even when it hurt me. But today, that love gave me energy and fulfillment. The change that I had been fighting and praying for was rearing is beautiful head, and others were finally catching onto it.
I feel as if the burden has lifted. The intense spiritual warfare in which I've been fighting has taken a turn towards victory. Sisters and brothers of all colors have been roused to action. And yes, I count white as a color--I celebrate the fact that we cannot do this without the support of our white friends!
I know that the burden has been lifted because the baton has been passed on to this incoming class at YDS--this vibrant, confident, and passionate group of students who have taken our campus by storm. I told them today: this is your time. I'm just here to support you and stand by you. You are the new wine, and I'm on my way out. If I can clear the path for you, I'm willing. And I will continue engaging in spiritual warfare on your behalf.
They said to me: we feel your prayers, because it has been so easy to be ourselves in this space and to do what's important to us.
God is so faithful to his daughters. He has provided a way out, and He is raising up mighty women to sing and dance upon injustice!
Amen.
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