Saying the Wrong Thing

     I've recently made friends with a Rabbi. She is great and when we get together the conversation easily flows and I feel completely comfortable, but as I am talking I also am repeatedly aware of the many errors in my word choices. I say “church” when I mean “synagogue.” I say “pastor” when I mean to say “religious leader.” I say “Old Testament” when I mean to say “Hebrew Bible.” Sometimes I fumble a bit and make a face to say “oops” to which she responds with complete grace and understanding, but I still want to get it right. I want to create a space with my words of equality and mutual respect rather than expecting the other person to adjust and accommodate my assumptions and bias.

     I was thinking about this as I led women's book group this week. We are talking about race. And slowly but surely we are all sharing our hearts, confronting our biases and being challenged … but not without fear of saying the wrong thing. We are reading the book I'm Still Here by Austin Channing Brown. In one of the chapters we read this week Brown says “sadly, most white people are more worried about being called racist than about whether or not their actions are in fact racist or harmful.” I asked the group if they have found this to be true. One woman in the group shared a time when she was called out for something she said that offended someone and what that felt like. This woman is an incredibly thoughtful, intelligent and kind person and while this experience was difficult for her, she learned and grew from it.

     I hate that feeling … when you realize you said the wrong thing and hurt, offended or pushed someone away. I replay those conversations when my mind is trying to quiet down. It goes something like this: turn off lamp, head hits the pillow, deep exhale, eyes close and then a voice in my head says “remember that time seven years ago when you asked that woman if she was her sister's mother and she looked horrified and everyone around heard it?” cringe, toss and turn …

     Of course that isn't the only time I have said the wrong thing or pushed too far with personal questions. I hope that I have learned and grown from each experience. Part of me wants to retreat and lock my lips for good after those experiences, but that isn't my personality and it isn't a possibility in my line of work.

     Clergy have to use words. We have to put ourselves out there and get to know new people all the time, try to remember names, write newsletter articles, teach classes and of course preach sermons to a mostly captive audience. All this at a time when people love calling out others for saying the wrong thing. No one wants to be the next viral video of a jerk saying something stupid for all the trolls to rip to shreds. But we can't stop speaking. If we do, how do we learn and grow? How do we honestly confront our biases and ignorances? How do we make connections and work together to better one another?

     This morning I listened to The Moth while I worked out and heard this great story by Pádraig Ó'Tuama. He did this really brave thing and created a space where he could have conversations with people who were different from him. For two days he and other LGBTQ persons met with religious leaders who believe homosexuality is wrong. As one might imagine it was tense, tough and exhausting for all involved. Just before it ended a man who was not of the same mind as Padraig asked a simple question of the group, “How many times have I bruised you with my words?” When one participant said “I lost count the first night.” The man said “I have some work to do.” Padraig shared how hopeful and loving that moment was.

     We have work to do. But still we use words. We use them to learn, grow, connect and express ourselves. So on Tuesday mornings I get together with ten other women of all different ages and we try our best with our words to understand the words of another, to learn, grow, challenge and turn bruises into openings for love.