Sometimes being you is the revolution

Or ... what if Peter had been a little more chill.

“Jesus said to him, “Truly I tell you, this very night, before the cock crows, you will deny me three times.” Peter said to him, “Should it be necessary I die with you, I will not deny you.” Then likewise said all the disciples.” – Matthew 26:34-25 (Translation by the Rev. Dr. Wil Gafney, A Women's Lectionary for the Whole Church Year C)

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“Stop comparing yourself to Bach. We’ve already had a Bach, and he was wonderful. But Bach is dead. Be Mike.”

I took a class in seminary called “Ministry, Spirituality and the Arts,” taught by a mentor of mine, the Rev. Victoria Sirota. The final project was to create a work of art – a process which requires us to embrace frustration and failure.

I chose to write a setting for the Sanctus (the “Holy, Holy Holy” at the beginning of the Episcopal Eucharist), and I was struggling because whatever I did couldn’t live up to the lofty image of what I thought was worthy.

And, of course, what I thought was worthy was in comparison to what others had produced. And so I was bound to come up lacking … and to think that what I created was unworthy … and that I was unworthy, too.

The quickest way to kill any potential you have to create beauty or to have impact is to judge ourselves by what others have done … or, more likely, our perceptions of them.

Vicki knew that’s what I was doing, so she said:

“Stop comparing yourself to Bach. We’ve already had a Bach, and he was wonderful. But Bach is dead. Be Mike.”

I’ve struggled with this my whole life. With looking at what others have done and feeling unworthy by comparison … and it has never helped me achieve more or be more impactful. It has held me back and paralyzed me and mired me in self-doubt, though … in ways that have prevented “being Mike” from being transformative not just for others but for myself.

Tonight, we remember Jesus’ last supper with his friends. I’m struck by the exchange that happens at the end.

Jesus said to them, “You will all become scandalized to the point of desertion because of me this night; for it is written, ‘For I will strike the shepherd, and the sheep of the flock will be scattered.’ But after I am raised, I will go ahead of you all to Galilee.” Peter said to him, “Though all become scandalized and desert because of you, I will never desert you.” Jesus said to him, “Truly I tell you, this very night, before the cock crows, you will deny me three times.” Peter said to him, “Should it be necessary I die with you, I will not deny you.” Then likewise said all the disciples.

Jesus didn’t ask the disciples to die. Just not to be ashamed of him. To always stand up for him.

I love Peter here … as usual over-promising and under-delivering. Jesus didn’t ask him to die, but Peter thought of the most heroic person he could and then set that as his definition of righteousness and faithfulness. And then the other disciples did the same.

And, of course, we know how the story goes. Peter, who loved Jesus deeply, became so afraid of the heroic promise he made … so afraid of dying for Christ … that he couldn’t just be Peter … and love Jesus and stay with him.

There will always be someone who seems more talented, more heroic, more impactful and capable than us. And if we set ourselves by judging ourselves by our perception of them instead of just asking how we can use our power & position, love and faithfulness and push our envelope of courage just a little bit more … we will deprive the world of the revolutionary gift of … ourselves, just as we are and as we are becoming.

A wonderful friend posted this on her Instagram this morning from mimimoffie

And it got me thinking about the people whom I admire … and I realized they have a common denominator … each one asks themselves “what can I do?”

And then they do it.

I’m sure they don’t do it all the time.

But when they do it, I see it. And because it involves risk, it inspires me to push my envelope a bit more.

To be Mike a little more boldly.

To fear a little less.

Two examples.

Steve Kerr is the coach of the NBA’s Golden State Warriors.

I’ve loved Steve Kerr since he was a freshman guard for the University of Arizona and his father, Malcolm, was assassinated while serving as president of American University in Beirut. I loved Steve because … well … he kept showing up. He didn’t give up.

He wasn’t particularly athletic, but to me he embodied courage and perseverance. With nine rings as a player and coach, he is probably one of sports’ most unlikely champions.

And that’s not why I love Steve Kerr.

I love Steve Kerr because he understands that his position gives him a voice … and while others are busy protecting their brands (remember Michael Jordan saying “republicans buy sneakers, too”), Steve Kerr gets that basketball is a game and uses his platform to stand up for what and who he believes in.

Right now, universities around the country are cutting DEI programs under Trump’s threat of withholding federal funds. This week, Harvard University refused Trump’s demands and the administration froze $2.2 billion in multi-year grants and contracts designated for the university.

At his daily press conference, Kerr wore a Harvard shirt and, knowing he would get asked about it, met the question with this response:

Is it a big deal? Well, if by that do I think the Trump administration is going to reverse its policy because Steve Kerr wore a T-shirt, then of course not.

And … it is a big deal. Because Steve was being Steve … doing what he could knowing that for him, being Steve is the revolution.

Could he have done more? Sure. (More on that in a second). And … that’s not the point. The point is he could have done less … and many, many, many people have. He realized that he could do THIS and so he did THIS.

Steve was Steve. And the world is a little bit better because of it.

Second example.

Next time you have to buy a book, order it online from Left Bank Books here.

Whenever I’m in St. Louis, as I am now, I go to my favorite bookstore on the planet, Left Bank Books (Nikki High and Octavia’s Bookshelf … you’re right there, too!). It is a mecca for me not just because it is a wonderful independent bookstore but because its owner, Kris Kleindienst, has for the more than a decade that I have known her, known what a bookstore can be and has not once shrunk back from that mission for fear of losing money or even her business.

During the Ferguson Uprising, Left Bank Books … in an upper-middle class/wealthy white section of St. Louis became a center for the young, queer, black activists. She distributed Black Lives Matter signs back when they made you a target rather than a virtue signaler. Recognizing her largely white clientele she started racial justice book groups and highlighted amazing black activists like Angela Davis and Assata Shakur.

Kris told me once that if you run an independent bookstore, finishing in the black is a pipe dream … you hope just to break even. Her margins are tissue paper thin … all the things that might make a “smart businessperson” hold back and try not to piss anyone off.

Not Kris.

Kris Kleindienst — my hero, because she is always Kris being Kris.

Kris can’t help being Kris. In a state that is one of the most trans-hostile in the country she highlights trans authors. In a heavily Jewish neighborhood where even the more progressive synagogues have been afraid to speak out against the genocide in Gaza, she has an entire section of the store dedicated to Palestinian writers … particularly voices from Gaza.

As Kris and I talked this morning, I thanked her and said that Left Bank Books was so important at a time like this because it was “more than a bookstore.”

Actually, she gently corrected me, what we are trying to be is just what we believe a bookstore should be.

Left Bank is just being Left Bank.

Because Kris is just being Kris.

If you ask Kris if she is anything special, she will be the first to say that she is not. Except her honest humility betrays her. She is something special … not because she is some icon, but because she is Kris being Kris.

I don’t know if Steve Kerr or Kris Kleindienst care about the story of the last supper. But my hunch is that if someone they loved the way that Peter loved Jesus asked them to stand by them, there answer wouldn’t be some hyperbolic “even if everyone else deserts you I will die before I reject you.”

It would be, “you are my friend, and I’m always with you, no matter what.”

Simple and easy.

I know at least Kris would say this because at a time in my life where I am going through incredible transition and have suffered a lot of loss, that’s what she said to me this morning – even when I was asking her how I could help her keep Left Bank Books afloat.

In fact, as we were talking about the financial struggles LBB is sure to be facing in the future, she suddenly thought of an author she wanted me to read … someone who had traveled across the country talking to “ordinary people” and writing from their perspectives what it was like to be them. She dropped what she was carrying, went and found the book and said, “I want to give this to you.”

“Kris,” I said. “We were just talking about the financial issues you are facing, let me buy the book!”

Kris pointed to the bag of books I had already bought and said, “you’ve already done that … let me do this.”

Here’s the book that Kris gave me today. Can’t wait to read it!

Kris being Kris. I am weeping as I remember it. And I will treasure the book forever, not for what it is in it, but for the spirit that put it in my hand.

Now … to the question of more.

One of the things I learned as a parish pastor is that you can never know what is sacrificial to someone unless you really know their story from their own telling.

The truth is a $10,000 gift might be far less sacrificial than a $10 one – or someone walking over to someone standing alone at a coffee hour might be far more of a stretch for that person than it is for another to stand up in front of the whole congregation and preach.

When I used to take college students on high ropes courses, a facilitator once explained it this way.

We are always in one of three zones: Our comfort zone, our panic zone and our challenge zone (sometimes called the “stretch zone”).

Our comfort zone is where – if we have enough agency – most of us spend most of our time. It’s … well .. comfortable! And frankly, we should spend most of our time there. And … we don’t do a lot of learning and growing in the comfort zone. Because that requires pushing our boundaries.

The panic zone is the other end of the spectrum. It’s where flight/fight/freeze kicks in. This is the place where trauma happens and our brain does all the stuff that tells our body that the only thing that matters is survival. If we are fortunate, we can avoid the panic zone if we want … or leave when we stumble into it … and many of us are not that fortunate.

And … we don’t do any learning and growing in the panic zone. Because learning and growing requires us to be able to use parts of our brain that aren’t working when all we can do is stay alive.

Then there is the challenge zone. The challenge zone is between the two. It’s that in-between place where we are not in our comfort zone but also not in the panic zone. We are uncomfortable but not unsafe. There is risk but not panic. This is the place where learning and growth happens.

And … as we spend time in our challenge zone, our comfort zone expands.

And … this is key … we get to do it at our own pace.

The facilitator would say that everyone’s zones are different. For some people going down the zip line would be the most challenging .. where for others it would be standing in line waiting. For some the challenge zone would be just climbing three steps up the pole to the zip line and anything beyond that would be the panic zone. For others the challenge zone would be not judging people who couldn’t do as much and the panic zone would be feeling judged by themselves or others.

Only we can know where our comfort, challenge and panic zones are.

And that’s where we get to choose to do more … not by over-reaching like Peter did (Peter’s denials are a great panic zone example) … but by saying “how can I be myself just a little bit more boldly.”

I can look at what Steve Kerr did supporting Harvard and wonder (and even ask him if I could) … would you be willing to go to your alma mater, the University of Arizona, which is preparing to cut its DEI programming, and publicly urge them to reconsider and not “cave into the bully” in the same way he lauded Harvard?

I can ask – and I’m going to try to find a way to do that, not sure how that might work – but it’s up to Steve whether that is comfort, challenge or panic zone material.

So … what is it for you?

As a genocide continues in Gaza that we are all funding. As people are being disappeared off our streets and sent to Salvadoran gulags.

As universities and more are caving to pressure and not just eliminating DEI but tacitly promoting racism, homophobia, transphobia and more.

As women and nonbinary and trans people are having their reproductive rights eliminated.

Where is your comfort zone, your panic zone, your challenge zone?

How can you put one foot in that challenge zone and be yourself just a little more boldly?

You don’t need to be Rosa Parks or Martin Luther King, Jr.

You don’t need to be Suzy Eddie Izzard or Eliot Page.

You don’t need to be Bobby Sands or Aaron Bushnell

You don’t need to be Bono or Billie Joe Armstrong.

Don’t get me wrong, they are wonderful … but we already have them.

Be you.

Boldly.

Lovingly.

A little more every day.

Sometimes being you is the revolution.

¡Viva la revolución!