Education

"Joe, why aren't you eating a S'more?"

“Joe, why aren’t you eating a S’more?”

Ahh, I’m glad you asked. Let’s chat.

S’mores an all American camping classic. If you didn’t eat s’mores by a campfire, did you even go camping?

At our summer camps, S’mores were served as a treat at least once during campfire. To some of you who aren’t familiar with the campfire tradition, it involves the youth sitting around the fire after dusk singing fun and silly songs, performing embarrassing skits and just generally enjoying each other’s company.

The campfire ritual is deeply spiritual and sacred to many of these camps. Time and time again I heard, “this is where I feel God!” I mean, after all, the campfire resembled church. There were people gathered in the name of God, there were songs song together, there was a common meal shared, and there was mutuality. One would think this is want church looks like!

I most certainly did not, in fact the whole campfire ritual was off-putting to me. Yes, it was a new ritual I was not used to, and it wasn’t the sitting around the campfire that I didn’t like.

What I wasn’t a fan of was the bizarre and unnoticed violent messages slipped into songs, skits, and yes even s’mores.

I noticed that the silly, fun songs were often violent and disturbing. I heard songs about little frogs dying, about moose dying, about slitting a rabbit’s neck, about going on a lion hunt, about scary Satan, about early morning birds getting their heads smashed in. To say the least, I was not a fan. I typically would remain sitting while songs like this were song…they were not fun or silly to me because they were advocating for an abuse of our power in connection to animals and other humans. The violence made me terribly sad and angry.

Then there were skits! And sometimes they were silly and fun, but how many times have you seen a camp skit where the punch line of the joke is at the expense of someone else’s humiliation? I saw skits were water was dumped on contestants, I saw skits that talked about throwing a person down a mountain, there were skits about stealing people’s clothes, about calling them suckers, about making them feel embarrassed or ashamed in front of a crowd. Several times I was called on to participate as this contestant and intentionally left in the dark.

(Thankfully I’m pretty camp savvy enough to anticipate the skits that were coming, I’ve only seen them a thousand times). I can’t explain to you the feeling, and since I have less shame than others, it didn’t affect me as I’m sure it would my other friends. Being laughed at is never a good or positive experience, because they aren’t laughing with you when you have been left out of the joke… they aren’t laughing with you when you are the only one getting drenched. They are laughing at your expense.

Lastly, there are the s’mores, a triparte treat of foods created at the expense of others. As a vegetarian, I abstain from eating foods created from the death of other animals annddddddd, believe it or not, marshmallows are made with dead animal parts. They have gelatin in them, the ingredient in jello and starburst and many other products that makes them fluffy and jiggly, gelatinous. Gelatin is made from the grinding up of left over animal parts, like bones, hooves, cartilage, skin, etc. So, I abstained from eating any s’mores with marshmallows.

So what’s wrong with chocolate and a graham cracker? Well, it depends on the brand of chocolate. I have decided to try as best I can to cut out products that profit from extremely poor worker conditions, like low wages, long hours or human rights violations. There is a specific company that is quite notorious for these types of horrific worker conditions, and without naming the specific brand, I am sure you can guess. Cheap chocolate comes at a steep price at someone else’s expense. The alternative would be fair trade chocolate, where you know workers earn fair wages.

And what is left? Just a graham cracker? I’m okay, I’d rather just not eat anything.

My abstention from songs and skits and s’mores might have offended many, but I didn’t care. They invited me into their sacred moments and spaces and I probably defiled them a little. Yet, I got to thinking, how many of them were even examining themselves closely enough to rethink these things?

How many churches have we seen go awry because they let messages or charismatic leaders led them down different paths? Without a healthy skepticism or questioning we just let the wind blow us any which way.

I think that this is how violent songs, shameful skits, and s’mores that kill animals and take dignity away from human beings, wind up into our more sacred rituals.

If we compare s’mores to communion (which at least one camp did), then we are sharing a meal together in Christ’s message. What was that message? I can assure it was not a message condoning violence or shame. And Jesus didn’t just pick any old elements for communion, and I’m positive he wouldn’t be eating marshmallows (they’re made of pork!).

What should we do? I think we need to self-examine and question our habitual practices. If we continue to allow the dignity of others to be mocked during our most sacred rituals, what does that mean our church stands for? Do we condone and endorse violence and shame?

“But Joe, if you ruin all our fun, what will we have left?”

“I don’t know, a graham cracker?”

A-OK in OK

My summer as a nomadic advocate for peace and justice began two weeks ago. After a week of training at Disciples headquarters in Indianapolis, I left for the “land of the Red Man”—a name I find incredibly problematic, but not uncommon for the history of Oklahoma.

I landed in Tulsa where I was greeted by the wonderful Cassie Sexton-Riggs and her husband Michael Riggs. They filled me into the deeper, troubling history of Oklahoma’s past. They explained the brutal takeover of Native American lands for oil, disturbingly high numbers of Klans, Bible Belt super colleges, and that Tulsa was home to America’s deadliest race riots. Not to mention, they warned me that every single county in Oklahoma went red in the past election—needless to say issues of race and discrimination haven’t died.

Going into Chi Rho camp I was on edge. I was preparing myself for youth steeped in their parents’ ideology, made into mini brainwashed conservatives. I expected my workshops to get some heat and encounter some blatant prejudices.Boy, was I wrong.

Day one, I wore a pair of pink floral shorts, again expecting some judgements or hesitations. And I wore them on purpose to incite this sort of dialogue. Yet, the youth loved them.

In my workshop we talked about clothes, gender, and what is “normal.” Each time I talked with the youth, I was blown away by how open, non-judgmental and willing to accept others they were. Initially, I assumed that Chi Rho aged youth might be too young to really have true prejudices. But as the week went on, and as they described their hometowns and schools, I realized these youth at Chi Rho camp were the exception to my expectation. Without actually knowing it, these youth were aware of social justice.They knew that it was wrong to police gender roles, they knew that being gay is A-OK, they knew that racism is not normal, they knew that people around the world are denied justice on an everyday basis. My job as a justice educator quickly became easier. These youth schooled me in social justice, they wiped the court with me—in a good way.

I cannot believe how wrong I was about Oklahoma before I arrived, and I am so glad I was wrong. I was guilty of exactly the injustice that I was preaching against. I readily judged, expected, and guarded myself against people that I have never met. I was scared of being rejected by a red state, so I prepared to fight for what I believed in.

It so happened to turn out that I didn’t have to argue or fight with a single counselor, camper, or staff person. We were all on the same page. I never asked about party affiliation or voting records—that didn’t matter to me. What I care about was how we could unite our voices for justice, and surely we did!

Like I said, the Chi Rho campers schooled me. They are internet savvy animals. Name any meme and they would know it. Name any Vine, and they probably could quote it. Name any injustice? Well, they probably read about it on Tumblr. YES! They actually read about how the world works on Tumblr!

Not only was I expecting these youth to be miniature versions of their parents’ beliefs, I expected at school or church they would learn rhetoric that supports systematic injustice.

Instead, they experience the world almost entirely through the internet. One camper told me, “When the kids at school are close minded and exclusive, I go online and chat with my friends in San Francisco, New York, Chicago.” Despite living in small or rural towns, the youth of this new generation can experience urban and city experiences too. These campers are probably more connected to the world than I am, and it humbled me.

This whole week in Oklahoma humbled me. I thought I knew what I was getting myself into, and I thought I knew who these people were…and I was wrong, wrong, wrong. My mind and heart were opened all over again. I’m so deeply thankful for experiences like this that helped rewrite my perceptions of what this country looks like. Our nation is not as divided as we like to think, and that gives me so much hope for the future.