My N-Word Moment

In the wake of the Paula Deen fallout I have been inspired to self reflect and get to the heart of what the f is wrong with race dialog in America. I have come to the realization that the problem is simple. The discussion is dishonest and secretive-not so much a newsflash, I know, but stay with me. White America is so afraid being labeled racist that we lie about actually BEING racist. We also keep deep secrets in an attempt to shield or minimize our own participation in racist behavior and systems. Not only does this help keep racism alive and well, it also enables the shame of racism to reside deep in the hearts of white people who sincerely want change. The dishonesty and secrets make the fuel that motivates white strangers to assume that a fellow white face permits racist comments and descriptions of "black" people in whispers. If you are white, you know exactly what I mean. In response to this reality, I would like to offer an example from my own life to show people how to be honest, self reflective, and hopefully transformational when it comes to overcoming racism. What I am about to share requires immense vulnerability on my part. As I share my experience, I hope it is met with grace and understanding. I can't remember exactly how old I was, but I think it's fair to say I was in ninth or tenth grade, so 14/15 years old. I was with two girlfriends of mine and the three of us were headed down town on the "T"-Pittsburgh's public transit rail. The three of us hopped on and were excited to head to our destination. Immediately upon grabbing our seat we noticed a group of girls, about the same age, who were staring at us like we did something wrong. All of the girls were black. We carried on as if we didn't notice the glares, but the group of girls started verbally making fun of us. We were paralyzed with fear. Not just because the girls were black, but because we had no idea what the hell was going on. None of us had ever been taunted by strangers for no reason, and even though we were usually pretty capable and confident girls on our own accord, we were simply outnumbered. Instead of responding and making an uncomfortable situation worse, we sat there powerless and took the taunts. The girls made fun of the way we dressed, and mocked us by talking like valley girls. Because of my own baggage, I never took well to the feelings of powerlessness. I sat there frozen, but wanted so badly to regain the power I felt like I was losing. But I had a plan. The girls who taunted us relentlessly, got off the "T" before we did. As they got off, they continued to stare, poke fun, and intimidate. All the while, I kept my eye on the doors, and just as they closed to the point where they couldn't be reopened, I distinctly, and with great pronunciation mouthed the word... N I G G E R. Two of the girls locked eyes with me while I said it, and their response was swift. They both tore for the train and began beating on the glass where I sat. Then the train started moving with me in it, and both of my middle fingers in the air. Looking back on it, I was very aware of my actions and equally aware of how much power that one word had. And at the tender age of 15, I had an innate sense of the historical hatred I was channeling just to regain my own sense of power. It was intentional. I wanted to hurt those girls for making us feel powerless for no reason. No other word would have accomplished that feat. Interestingly, my friends never knew what I said, and I never told them. In fact, this admission may be the first time I've ever admitted to this, ever. I also didn't grow up in a house where that was an acceptable or frequently used term, unlike other white people. The only time I can remember ever hearing a relative use the "N" word was when an uncle used it during a football game as he yelled at one of the players, and I remember being aghast at the witnessing of it. I clearly knew better. What I knew regarding right and wrong, didn't matter. What mattered is that I needed a weapon to fight back, and that word was all I could find in my arsenal. It has been over twenty years since that exchange and I still think about it often. I wonder if that one exchange means I am a racist for life. In my heart of hearts, I don't believe that is the case. I do acknowledge that in that exchange I was for sure an active participant in the racist, oppressive culture that attempts to judge individual actions of black people as indictments upon the entire race, and I have since spent the better part of my life trying to undo the white supremacist fabric of who I am as an American. You might be thinking, "But those girls were bullying you. You had every right to fight back." I do think I had every right to defend myself, but let's remember, no one physically hurt me. I struck when the threat of physical violence was gone. I can't help but think that if the girls were white, I would have responded differently. For one, I probably would not have been as afraid to verbally defend myself. I had some experience witnessing girls fight, both white and black, and from what I saw black girls fought way more aggressively than white girls. I was afraid of welcoming an ass whoopin I couldn't handle. So I remained silent. But why did I SAY it? What was the motive? The motive was reclaiming power based on race, and power based on race is the lifeline of racism. So now what? What can my exchange do to make a difference in racial awareness? First, it provides a framework for white people to reflect, be honest, and work it out. It's not about making apologies either, because frankly apologies are insufficient. It is about making changes to the way we think, and it is about being honest in regards to how painful that process can be. It is about traveling to the dark places of our historical legacy, owning them, and redeeming them. Second, being honest about what I've experienced is something I've been very candid about within myself. I've taken responsibility internally and have made changes within myself to ensure that who I am, and what I strive for as a human being is far better than that incident. But making my journey a public one is necessary for two reasons. It helps similar people release the shame that such actions harbor in oneself, and it hopefully brings accountability to those who have no regret. I am glad to say that since then, I have never said the N-word from my mouth or my heart, the latter being the most important. May we strive to speak words that come from our hearts, and may we strive for our hearts to be good and just.

Miss California Christian

As some of you may know, Miss California has received a lot of heat regarding her answer to judge Perez Hilton's question about gay marriage. Considering the gay marriage debate is so central in California right now, I thought it was a fair questions to ask. (Although I heard the other contestants got far easier and less heated questions, but that's beside the point.)

Carrie replied with a heartfelt opinion that marriage is between a man and a woman-and has since discussed the "natural" order of things evinced in the Bible as proof. While I couldn't disagree with her more, I wholeheartedly believe that she is entitled to her opinion. There are a few things that really bother me about this whole issue and the fall out it has generated.

1. I am bothered by the fact that a beauty queen with a boob job feels that she is the authority to speak upon what is "natural" and therefore righteous in the eyes of God.

2. I am bothered my Carrie Prejean's insistence that her religious faith and beliefs are being attacked.

To add to this debate, a sexy hot topless photo of Miss California surfaced this week as well. Perfect timing huh? Granted, her back is turned and just a sliver of her breast is shown, but the photo is HAWT! Far too risque for a good little Christian girl who desires to save her body and sexual-ness for marriage. Prejean responded to the photo by saying that it was taken when she was 17 (is that supposed to make us feel better?) and delivered the following statement in her own defense: "I am a Christian and I am a model. Models pose for pictures, including lingerie and swimwear photos..."

What Prejean fails to recognize is that nobody is trashing her beliefs or her faith or the fact that she is a model. People are trashing the blatant, and ignorant hypocrisy which apparently allows Prejean to define and re-define her own views of morality, modesty, and God approved "natural-ness" while judging others for defining/re-defining morality and God approved "natural-ness." For some reason Prejean fails to recognize the hypocrisy evident for some of us in what she does, (which we can clearly justify as biblical offenses) and justifies it as okay because she is a Christian, AND a model. There must be some model clause or model exceptions to the rules that my training in seminary has over looked.

What this whole situation confirms for me is that people are perfectly fine with using "The Book" to justify whatever personal belief they have, or group they want to control, without really studying it, and considering why it says what it says.

To clarify, I personally don't find offense with Prejean's barely legal boob shot. The woman looks good and deserves to be a model. I am not offended that she got a boob job either. In fact I am contemplating getting one myself. I am offended that the literal approach she takes in understanding the Bible is applied inconsistently to the lives of others whose "lifestyle" she (and many others)disapprove.

So a note to Miss California: Don't be so quick to think that it's your religion we have a problem with. We (your critics) think that you are not approaching your own lifestyle with a fair measure of biblical literalism that you prefer to politically impose upon others with less acceptable lifestyles.

Can You Pay My Bills?

Yesterday I got into a conversation with a friend about why I am moving back to Pittsburgh. I told her I was moving against my will but in accordance with my financial situation. Our conversation went a little something like this:

Her: I know what you mean...money is king!
Me: Haha, I know!
Her: I mean, Jesus is King, but you know what I mean ;-)
Me: Yeah but Jesus ain't paying my rent, so yes, I know what you mean!
Her: But Jesus DOES pay your rent :-)

Hmmm? Really? Does Jesus pay my rent? If Jesus pays my rent, why in the hell do I have to work? Maybe the sentiment points to a belief that Jesus provides the job or even more generally, our provisions. Okay, then why do I have to send out resumes and cover letters, and why even bother with references? Or what do I make of Jesus' provisions given the fact that 12 percent of the state of California is out of work and thus having a hard time paying their rent?

As I enter my own season of job hunting so that I can make money and pay my own rent, I should just put "Jesus" as my reference. Yeah, that will get me the job, and the rent money.

Danielleworld

I come from a long line of debaters, arguers, and opinionated hot heads. In my family, religion and politics WERE acceptable topics for dinner time conversation. My family is directly responsible for my love and admiration for critical dialogue, and healthy exchanges of different opinions. Key word being HEALTHY.

With that said, it comes to no surprise that I received an email today from a beloved, well intentioned uncle of mine who is notorious for sending viral email forwards about things like supporting our troops, keeping prayer in school, and pro-life stances. We disagree on pretty much everything, yet he continues to send me the emails. At one point I sent him an email clarifying that if he continues to send me forwards I will take them as an invitation to engage in discussion about the topics raised. He still sent them, so I took them as invitations to respond. I usually don't respond unless whatever he sends REALLY pushes my buttons. Today he sent one of those emails that pushed me over the edge.

As usual the subject line read "You'll love this one."

The title of the post was "Teacher Applicant." To read the actual forward click here: http://wilk4.com/humor/humorm339.htm

The gist of the message is that a teacher humorously responds to the varied, plentiful, and excessively unrealistic expectations placed upon him/her by concluding, "You want me to do all of this and yet you expect me NOT TO PRAY !?!?"

The whole issue of prayer in school is extremely frustrating for me. 1. Because as a Christian I support the Constitution, and I believe that the government should do all that is within its power to preserve our religious freedom by not supporting state established religious beliefs or practices. That means, if you work for a public institution you are an employee of the state which means in essence, you represent the state (government.) Therefore it is a conflict of interest (that interest being our constitutional rights) for a representative of the state to issue prayer whether it be to a Christian God, Muslim God, or general purposes God. I believe that supporting this aspect of our constitution limits the likelihood that I will have to bow to a god I don't believe in nor will I be subject to listen or participate in a prayer that goes against my beliefs, should there be a shift in the majority of religious preferences in our country.

In a "Reply All" response to my uncle, I tried to articulate this point. I tried to explain my support of the Constitution and each American's right to religious freedom, but I also tried to express that I didn't believe that anyone, individual or otherwise could ever take away my ability to pray. I may not be able to kneel down in front of my class with hands clasped, head bowed, reciting the Rosary, but I can certainly say ten hail Mary's while my students are on their lunch break or to myself when I see a young student who I know is having troubles at home.

My uncle did not agree...which did not come as a surprise to me, nor did his rebuttal. He vehemently disagreed, but he did not in any way disrespect me in the expression of his disagreement. (Something my family is very good at!)

What did come as a surprise to me was the email I got from my uncle's priest who was included in the forward, and included in my "Reply All" comment. After I sent my uncle an admittedly heartfelt inquiry and challenging critique of his views on prayer in school, I get this:

"How else does God work in Danielleworld? Does God belittle people through condescending emails in Danielleworld?

Reverend James B. Farnan, BS, STL
Diocese of Pittsburgh
St. Thomas More Parish"

-Word for word that is what he sent to me in an email. Nothing more, nothing less. Mind you, I do not know this priest at all. I know that he was the same priest who responded indifferently, yet somewhat respectfully to another email exchange between my uncle and me, but other than that...I don't know him.

I couldn't help but think that this priest got a little snippy with me. I mean, am I crazy or did he get snippy? The more I read his email, the more it bothered me, and the more it bothered me, the more impossible it became to give him the benefit of the doubt. I couldn't help but fixate on the fact that he had approached me via email in a way that did not communicate a mature interest in critical thinking or an exchange of ideas. What was his purpose afterall???

To be fair, it is possible that to someone who is not familiar with how my family engages with topics like these, it may seem like I was harsh toward my uncle. I am willing to let you be the judge. This is what I sent my uncle:

"Dear Uncle S,

Does that mean if your daughters attended a public school and had a Muslim teacher who led the class in a prayer or prayed out loud to the class, asking all the students to bow toward Mecca, and closed the prayer by saying, "Praised be to Allah," you'd be okay with that?

NO ONE is telling teachers they can't pray. Schools and teachers just can't institute prayer for the students they teach. That protects your children from being led in a Muslim, Jewish, or Buddhist prayer if they had a Muslim, Jewish, or Buddhist teacher you know.

If Christians truly have God in their hearts, minds, and souls, there is no stopping the inward communication between them and God. Christians have to stop allowing themselves to be limited by policies that don't actually limit them! Prayer is a state of mind and being that no outward institution can ever govern. Ever. Why can't Christians live into that reality and stop wasting time about this no prayer in school stuff. Does God only answer your prayers if you have a formal time at school where you can kneel and pray the Rosary? I truly don't think that's how God works.

luv ya
danielle"

In my best effort to objectively look at my email, I see some harsh critique, yes. I also see me, trying to play devil's advocate with my uncle who I KNOW would not be cool with his kids bowing to Mecca. That "luv ya, Danielle" at the end is not sarcasm! I am used to being able to duke it out with my uncles regarding our beliefs, and can sincerely say "I love you" at the end of the day, and mean it.

I would venture to say that Fr. Farnan's family dinners may not have been similar to mine. I am okay with that. I am not okay with someone not being able to express their disagreement like a mature, respectful adult, ESPECIALLY when you are supposed to have a God given calling to shepherd the flock!!! Am I not part of that flock Fr. Farnan??? Are my opinions not even worth your consideration or "redirection" if they are so blatantly wrong?

What is really sad about this is that I think the whole prayer in school issue is a good conversation, and one that is worth having. I also think that I bring a very reasonable and faith based argument to a table that is seemingly closed off to liberal, baby killing homo-lovers like myself. I guess Fr. Farnan is more concerned about dissecting the theories of God, prayer, etc as they exist in Danielleworld. I guess I can't totally blame the guy, I mean I do know my shit.

Since he is a man of the cloth who probably believes that "whatsoever he shall asketh, he shall receive," I did my best to provide him with clarification as well as an answer to his questions. They read:

"Dear Fr. Farnan,
I am not sure what the context of your email is but let me clarify a few things: I have a close relationship with my family and we often engage in heated and challenging discussions. My uncle knows me well, and hopefully he knows that while I may disagree with him on SO MANY things, I love and respect him very much and would never condescend to him under any circumstance-at least not intentionally-and if I have done so unintentionally I would quickly see to it that my true intentions were made known. Based on many conversations I have had with my uncle in the past, the info/questions I posed are very sincere and equally critical of what I perceive as inconsistencies on his part. It is in the tradition of my family, and our passionate, opinionated, hot-headed nature to call each other out on stuff we disagree with, as he will likely do in return. And I welcome it.

You however, do not know me well enough to understand my approach to honest critical dialogue, and you have not (in my opinion) earned the right to talk to me in the manner that you have in this email.

I will answer you this though, in "Danielleworld," the work of God is not revealed to me through priests like you.

You have given me excellent blog material though, so thanks."

There you have it. A snippet of how critical dialogue and God "works" (or doesn't) in Danielleworld! I meant it when I told him that he has given me excellent blog material. In fact, it's like he hand delivered oodles of blog material on a silver platter wrapped in Parchment paper with my favorite Bible verse and the world "Danielleworld" inscribed in Greek.

Now I can only hope and pray for more Divine Revelation of God's wisdom as it pertains to my own little Danielleworld. I promise to let you know what she tells me.

Fish Fry

Ask me the first thing that pops into my head when you say the word "Lent" and I will surely respond "FISH FRY." Okay, I may say giving up chocolate or some other decadent delight, but a fish fry will definitely be up there. Why? Because I grew up in a Catholic family, in a predominantly Catholic town, and every Friday in Lent every Catholic Church you could think of had a fish fry (a very profitable endeavor for most churches I might add). Everyone would go to their home church, pay about 4 bucks or so, and you'd get the biggest, most delicious plank of fried fish you'd ever seen. Of course, the fish would be accompanied by a heaping mound of homemade mac-n-cheese, a green veggie of some sort, and a big old dollop of tartar sauce. I always loved a fish fry. Strangely though, I never fully understood why we had them, or what they had to do with Lent, easter, Jesus, or any spiritual matter...for that matter.

In my quest for the fishy truth, my well intended Catholic family members would explain that Jesus died on a Friday so we don't eat meat on Fridays in Lent to remember his sacrifice. A whosit says whatsit??? Does that mean that if I do eat meat on Friday that I am somehow connected to the death of Jesus??? A co-conspirator of sorts? Even as a Catholic school girl who faithfully attended religion class daily and church twice a week, I could never find a clear, straight answer, that actually made sense. The answers seemed like theological puzzle pieces that people were awkwardly trying to put together.

As a young adult, I still questioned the origin of the practice. At one point I heard that some pope back in the day had a connection to the local fishing industry, and declared that people eat fish to boost the local economy-and later attached spiritual significance to it, but I have never been able to find documentation verifying the clam...er, uh, I mean claim.

I really wanted to believe the fishing industry legend because it is the most logical explanation to date, and sounds so like a religious leader doesn't it? I can just see it...

Fisherman Joe: "Hey yo, Popey J...time's been tough down at the dock. People just ain't buyin these days you know?

Popey J: "Oh yeah? I'm sorry to hear that brother. Want me to say a couple hail Mary's for you tonight?"

Fisherman Joe: "You know PJ, I gotta better idea..."

(Fisherman Joe & Popey J develop a plan...)

-And there you have it... the origins of why we eat fish on Friday's in Lent.

The reality is however, that if such was the case, we'd probably be able to cite who, what, when, and where, such an exchange took place and I don't think anyone can.

As I have looked for answers regarding this tradition, I have learned once again that Catholic doctrine (Catholic beliefs that are written on the books) is sometimes very different than what Catholic people practice or understand. I think this is common of most religions where the church leaders are significantly more theologically educated than the lay people whose access to information about the religion is somewhat controlled (topic for another blog).

************Theological bore warning***************

Catholic doctrine says absolutely NOTHING about eating fish on Friday's during lent. Catholics are required to treat Fridays as a day of penitence (every Friday of the year, not just Lent) which means that they are to give up something that is a want/need in order to be reminded of their need for God and his sacrifice-this is referred to as "mortification." Prior to Vatican II it was mandated that the sacrifice be meat. After Vatican II it was determined that people could personalize the sacrifice, or make a sacrifice that was culturally/socially relevant to them. (Ex: Vegetarian Catholics wouldn't be sacrificing much if they gave up meat on Fridays!) Many Catholics have stuck with the no meat thing during Lent, but they have forgotten that penitential Fridays is a prescribed mandate 52 Fridays a year according to Catholic doctrine.

Still these questions remain: WHY NO MEAT and WHY IS FISH NOT CONSIDERED MEAT?? This is the part that continues to baffle me. I read from a Catholic encyclopedia and other Catholic resources that cite Old Testament sacrifices and views of "flesh and blood" as reasons. In other words, the amount of blood a piece of meat has, determines it's "meatiness." But the connections they draw as to why not eating meat on Fridays is significant for Christians are ambiguous and clumsy, yet Catholics often assert with confidence that the reasons make sense! This is what I have heard many times from those who are probably most informed on the matter, "Well, Jesus was the sacrificial lamb, so in honor of the sacrificial offering he made (on a Friday btw), we will abstain from eating the flesh of an animal, and that will remind us of our need for a savior."

Let me say this again, if I haven't said it already...

WWWWWWWWWWTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTTFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF???????????

Why not also say...Well Jesus was born on a Tuesday, and to remind ourselves that Jesus was a gift to the whole world we should drink a glass of water every Tuesday because water is cleansing, and Jesus is cleansing, and I want to be cleansed by Jesus, so yeah, water on Tuesdays forever.

Now just let me clarify, there is absolutely no harm in deciding to fast, sacrifice, or remember our own imperfections/needs. I gather that some people find it to be a very special discipline. I also don't want this to sound like a Catholic bashing session. I don't hate Catholics. My Grandma is Catholic and I love her to pieces. What concerns me is that people of all faiths adopt various, weird, idiosyncratic practices, and then they superimpose spiritual significance onto said practices, and then eventually those ambiguously rooted practices become ambiguously rooted dogma.

THEN you have people everywhere thinking they are somehow closer to God because they do some stupid little practice, that in the larger scheme of things is a spiritual-construct, that ends up having little significance to those who are so far removed from whatever quasi spiritual purpose the practice once had in the first place. It becomes something you just "do" and then that thing influences other people to appropriate the practices and the whole thing just gets silly.

If you think I am wrong, I challenge you to ask 5 priests, 5 Catholic lay people, and 5 non Catholics the following questions:

1. Will you be eating meat on Fridays in lent? Why? Why not?
2. Will you be eating fish on Fridays in lent? Why? Why not?
3. Will you be "giving something up" for Lent this year? Why? Why not?
4. What about the Bible or tradition supports any of the above practices?

Please report your findings, and please take note of the inconsistent answers you receive.

Will You Pray for Me?

Yes, I am a seminary student who has not actually prayed in about two years. Blame it on an existential crisis. Blame it on my newly found perspective that I no longer know what I am praying to, or the fact that I don't really know if or how it really works. Admittedly, these are my issues, and I consider myself to be on a life long journey to figure them out.

An existential crisis is all well and good for me as an individual, but as soon as someone I care about asks me those 5 frightening words in a time of crisis: "Will you pray for me?" Things get a little complicated. I can have my own existential crisis and be totally fine with it. Really, I can. But what do I do when a friend confides in me, her deepest sorrows, in a moment of trust and vulnerability, and in the midst of her pain she reaches out for a caring person to engage with the Divine on her behalf.

I hate the idea of saying, "yeah, sure, I'll pray for you," because I know that is a lie. I am not going to "pray" in the traditional sense. I am not going to get on my knees, fold my hands, bow my head and talk to a God I don't really know right now. It feels awkward, phony, and useless. But my friend is important to me. And while I do not know what I think about God at the moment, I do believe in the mystic presence of something. I do believe in the supernatural, the divine, and the fact that we can and should engage with it. I just don't know how to.

On the other hand, I don't want to be the annoying person who puts their own stupid little spiritual woes before the sincere pain of a person in need. That is just plain annoying and lame.

I really wanted to do something for my friend to let that cosmic force, divine creator, or whatever he/she goes by these days that I was advocating for her, and sincerely hoping for peace and contentment in her life. But I needed it to be authentic for me.

So I decided to search for meaning, authenticity and a guide to prayer at the 99cents Store.

I purchased some candles that always intrigue me when I am there. They are prayer candles that I think are mostly used in Mexican Catholic traditions. I think they are used for home altars. Either way, I am attracted to them. They look very ecclesiastical to me, but yet so accessible. I purchased two plain white ones, and one that had a picture of Mary on it because her heart was exposed, and I really like hearts. I purchased the candle with the intention of lighting it for my friend as an act of acknowledgement of her struggle, her fears, her hope, and my hope for her. I took the candle home, took it out of the bag and noticed that there is sweet little prayer written on the back of the candle.

I lit the candle that night as a gesture to my friend, and it gave me peace of mind knowing that I could actually engage with the Divine, on behalf of a friend in need, in the midst of having not one fricken clue who or what the Divine actually is. I hope my agnostic-ness is not a hindrance to her well being. We'll have to save that for another post.

Now when a person asks, "will you pray for me" I can respond knowing for sure that I don't have to be burdened by own uncertainties or the pressures to conform to a prescribed prayer structure.

So...

Yes, I will pray for you.

Terrific Journey on a Terrible Boot

On February 1, 2009, I set out on a Pittsburgh Pilgrimage for the purpose of accomplishing one simple task: to watch the Pittsburgh Steelers play against the Arizona Cardinals in Super Bowl XLIII with friends, family, and the most insane fans on the face of the planet. This trek was very close to a religious experience. It began as I arrived at LAX on Saturday morning representing my home town with a black and gold “Pittsburgh” scarf and a “boot” I was instructed to wear in order to protect a previously broken toe. I festively painted the boot black and gold, and called it a “Terrible Boot” in honor of the iconic and definitive Steelers fan symbol “The Terrible Towel.” It’s the tiny gold things you see waving around in the packed stadiums wherever the Steelers play.

As I awkwardly hobbled through the airport, I obtained my boarding pass and headed to the security checkpoint where the TSA officers snickered at my non-Arizona allegiance. When I arrived at my departure gate I was pleased to find that I was not alone. In fact, about 75% of the people waiting to board my plane were wearing black and gold, including the pilots! Everyone greeted each other with a sense of camaraderie that I have never experienced here in Los Angeles, ever! “Black and Gold” bridged black, white, young, old, first class, and coach. In addition to the unspoken but clearly felt unity among my fellow Pittsburgh pilgrims, there was an undeniable energy that buzzed throughout the plane as we boarded. We all knew that we were headed to the “Mecca” of the Steelers. The irony is that the Steelers were not even playing in Pittsburgh. The Super Bowl was in Tampa, Florida! But that did not stop fans (thousands nationwide) from traveling to “The Burgh” to join family and friends in watching what ended up being a sporting event for the ages. Prior to take off, our pilot introduced himself and welcomed us all aboard. He then played one of the many Steelers pep songs, “Here We Go” throughout the entire aircraft. People sang along in unison like we were at a church service! Then we took off.

Once I arrived in Pittsburgh, I realized that this whole Steelers thing, including the Pittsburgh Pilgrimage, (a term I coined in reference to the Pittsburgh Diaspora that reconvenes over the Steelers) was much bigger and more profound than I previously understood. Everyone at the Pittsburgh airport wore some kind of Steelers attire. Everyone was excited about the upcoming game. Everyone shared a common fraternal bond.

Only 33 hours passed between the time I landed in Pittsburgh and the time I got back on the plane headed back to Los Angeles. But in those 33 hours, I realized once again that the “Steelers Nation” (as it is so affectionately called) is an example of community that I do not see anywhere else. I don’t see it or experience it in school, in my neighborhood, and sadly, I don’t experience it within the church. Throughout the course of my visit I broke bread (in the form of a Primanti’s slaw and fries topped ‘sammitch’) with friends, chanted songs, and proudly adorned myself with symbols relevant to the occasion. I was received warmly by people from all over the country as they spotted my injured foot cradled in the “Terrible Boot.” And all of this was prior to the start of the actual game!

And what a game it was!!! I don’t think I need to get into the game. If you are a remote sports fan, you already know what I am talking about. If you are not a sports fan you don’t really need to know the details of the game, because the heart of this entire endeavor had little to do with football. The heart of the matter i.e. the Steelers, the people who live in Pittsburgh, the people who used to live there, and the people who are loyal fans from afar, is all about community and connection to a larger narrative. It is about staying faithful in good times and bad. It is about coming together for a common good. It is about long years of putting in dues that rarely pay off in the time frame in which you prefer.

The heart of “Steelers Nation” is that you become a part of something even if you can’t make the pilgrimage. You celebrate in a spirit of unity that cannot be easily matched these days. The narrative behind the Steelers is far more profound than the game of football itself, and that is what Pittsburghers (and fans) cling to. A narrative in which the hard workers, the ones with honor, the ones with character and humility, and even the ones who have failed & been broken in the past, emerge triumphant. Pittsburghers understand that story. It is their story, and it is the story that characterizes every aspect of their beloved Steelers, and above all, it is a story that many who are not from Pittsburgh can relate to as well.

Some people I’ve spoken too either don’t understand why Pittsburgh Steelers fans feel the way they way they do about a football team. Others think it borders idolatry. Admittedly, I didn’t understand it either until I actually moved away from Pittsburgh to Los Angeles and desperately longed for the sense of community I always took for granted back home. But as I twirled my terrible towel, wore my lucky number 7 Ben Roethlisberger jersey, (which is unusual for a non sporty person like myself-I mean I barely understand what a first down is!) and bore the pain of every celebratory jump on my broken toe, I knew I was at one with my Pittsburgh “peeps.” I was at one with my parents, aunts, uncles, friends and even grandmothers who I know were yelling at referees making bad calls, high fiving each other at each score made, dishing out the tough love when necessary, and cheering the Steelers on to historical defeats, and I was comforted by that reality.

I can’t help but see the connection between the “Steelers Nation” narrative, and other important narratives that we hold dear. I can’t help but think that there isn’t something to gain on a spiritual level from the example of Steelers fans who seem to have mastered the art of connecting to one another over a shared bond (in joyful times as well as bad) without regard to differences of any kind. Nothing was more evident of this than seeing a Muslim woman with her fully covered head peaking out of the sun roof of her car waving her terrible towel in celebration of the historical win, hipster kids with skinny jeans and old school Steelers beanies, and elderly, retirement home residents dancing in the streets with inebriated frat boys, on Pittsburgh’s historic Southside. Words are not sufficient in explaining the whole experience. Especially the tension felt when the Cardinals gave us a run for our money prior to the win! The collective fear was enough to send Sully Sullenberger over the edge!

As I make my way through this life journey, often feeling like my broken toe in one way or another, I continue to draw strength from the narratives that unite. For me, my “Terrible Boot” acts as a reminder of the reality that there is a back story, a struggle, and a hope for triumph for all of us in this journey. I cannot forget that. I continue to be amazed at the profound life lessons I learn through the Pittsburgh Steelers and their fans, and I look forward to supporting them as they make their way to the “Stairway to Seven!” GO STILLERS!