Hamilton, again. Except Burr.

You may think I am cheating because I've already blogged about Hamilton kind of but it's not cheating because I have been listening to the musical non-stop since then and so it's basically the only thing I have engaged--theologically or otherwise--in a week. It's playing in the background right now as I'm writing. And probably will be playing in the background (of my life) whenever you're reading this. Okay maybe not forever but at least the first time.

There's so much to be said about how much Hamilton has made me feel. (Like that time when there was a lyrical reference to The Last Five Years and you BETCHA I gasped and then cried.)

But! What I want to grab at this week is the profound sense of loss expressed by Aaron Burr. I know, I know, he's like the bad guy or whatever. But! In the first act, Burr (played beautifully by Leslie Odom, Jr.) sings "Wait For It." The first verse is about the married woman he has a relationship with. He can't really have her, because her husband is a British soldier. Whoops.

[Pro tip: go on Spotify and play this song. It'll help you to get where I'm coming from if you can hear the resignation in his voice, and then the rising to meet the anguish of the ensemble.]

He sings:

"Love doesn't discriminate
between the sinners and the saints
it takes and it takes and it takes
and we keep loving anyway.
We laugh and we cry
and we break
and we make our mistakes.
And if there's a reason I'm by her side
when so many have tried
then I'm willing to wait for it
wait for it wait for it."

The next verse is about the deaths of his parents, and so the chorus is altered slightly--and this is where the theologizing of his experience just leaps out of my speakers:

"Death doesn't discriminate
between the sinners and the saints
it takes and it takes and it takes
and we keep living anyway.
We rise and we fall
and we break
and we make our mistakes.
And if there's a reason I'm still alive
when everyone who loves me has died
then I'm willing to wait for it,
wait for it, wait for it."

This is what's hard about not ascribing to an "everything happens for a reason" kind of understanding of God, because we can't say "this death all around you is the direct work of God" and be satisfied with that explanation. Lutherans like myself are so easily able to say that God doesn't discriminate between the sinners and the saints because we know ourselves to be simultaneously sinner and saint! That's the mess of it. "We keep living, anyway. We rise, and we fall, and we break, and we make our mistakes." And God rises and falls with us.

And I cannot ignore the pronouns. We keep living anyway. We rise and we fall and we break and we make our mistakes. There's a recognition of the communal nature of this type of suffering, but then there's a deep loneliness in the return to the singular pronouns of "I'm still alive when everyone who loves me has died."

And I don't know how long he waits. Is that one of those "all questions answered at the pearly gates" kind of things? Because we all know I'm not there with that.

I wonder: is he waiting for a time when he can live a life not marked by loss? Living alongside his beloved partner and child(ren), not in secret, not in fear. Living into a new generation, less pre-occupied with the death of his own parents. After the war, after the revolution, not surrounded by fallen soldiers, all so young. I think Burr just wants to live a whole, whole life. And who among us can't identify with that?!

A Thank You Note to Lin-Manuel Miranda

Dear Lin-Manuel Miranda,

It seems absurd to send words to you. Whichever words I choose and whatever order I put them in, you could do it better, I'm sure of it. To me, words are everything. Sir, your words are everything.

Moments ago, I finished listening to the NPR stream of Hamilton and I am convinced for the second time that you've written a musical meant to change me. I first heard In the Heights several years ago and I last heard In the Heights sometime last week. When I sing along with it, I sing every part (of course not the harmonies all at once, that'd be magic) because the layers of words and notes and rhymes and themes are just too intricate to discriminate against. I cannot adequately express this.

This evening, as I sat down to experience Hamilton, I could hardly contain myself. My brain, accustomed to your sounds, tried to sing along, tried to anticipate, tried to hear Usnavi in the chorus. And did, to the extent that to hear Usnavi in the chorus is to hear Lin-Manuel Miranda in the chorus.

Each time I heard a character's motif come through, in song after song, I said, "damn!" out loud, so impressed by your incredible skill. Not surprised in any sense--if you cannot already tell, I revere you, deeply--but as line after line wove itself into this hip-hop history lesson I threw up my hands. Each lilting syllable, each syncopated storyline...I'm laughing at myself because I can't even put together a sentence to try to explain to you how much I love your ability to put together sentences!

I suppose at some point in a thank you note it is customary to say thank you. Thank you for teaching me. Thank you for getting under my skin and into my lungs, rattling my bones and making me feel inexplicably human in this music. Thank you for showing this Californian how the city of New York has crossed time and space to be the place all these people call home. Thank you for giving such large pieces of yourself in these performances. Thank you for writing. Thank you.

xo Case

Abortion, actually.

Yep, you read that right. This week, we're talking about abortion.

A few weeks ago, Papa Francesco had this to say about abortion and the Catholic church. Much of it wrong.

Last week, the #GOPdebate had a lot to say about abortion. Much of it wrong.

I'm tired.

I am 27 years old, and for my entire life, the Roe v. Wade decision has been the law of the land. I am only 27 years old, and I am already tired of fighting against those who have spent my entire life (as well as the decade before my birth) trying to undo the protections that decision provides.

I'm tired of the terms "pro-life" and "pro-choice" as the only options. I'm tired of feigning apology for where I stand. I'm tired of resorting to compromise for the case of rape, incest, or the dubious phrase "threat to the life of the mother." Who determines what is and is not threatening to our lives?

I'm tired of men who have systematically threatened, oppressed, and injured women (for decades, centuries, millennia) through legislation, regulation, and theology.

Papa Francesco has been such a breath of fresh air in the ecumenical community on so many issues, and I'm so disappointed that he has reminded me of his Catholicism so harshly with this announcement.

Holy Father, women who have had abortions do not need your forgiveness. Declaring the upcoming church year a "Year of Mercy" is laughable. What year is not a year of mercy, in your line of work? How embarrassing.

And as far as the Republican candidates...boy, am I tired. During the debate on Wednesday I was in tears just from the premise that one of these people could be the President of the United States. These men bragged--honestly, bragged!--about how many years their states have gone without providing funding to Planned Parenthood, and probably other important healthcare providers in the process.

They--and the one woman on the stage, too--grossly (and grotesquely) misrepresented the struggle for reproductive freedom in this country. They--particularly the one woman on the stage--grossly (and grotesquely) misrepresented Planned Parenthood.

Here's the thing. I stand with Planned Parenthood. You may, also. I think I know what you mean when you say that, but in case you don't know what I mean when I say that, here's what I mean.

Women should have safe access to the health care that we need.
Women should have safe access to preventive care.
Women should have safe access to contraception, free of charge.
Men should have safe access to contraception, free of charge.
Women should have safe access to abortion on demand.

That's right. Planned Parenthood does so much for the people, y'all. They can be your primary care provider, and so many women I know rely on them for excellent care. Every Planned Parenthood employee or volunteer I have ever encountered has been professional and kind. They do an enormous amount of work, because millions of women in this country do not have safe access to the health care they need--or to enough of it. But even if PP didn't do all that other stuff--cancer screenings, annual exams, STD screenings, sex education, the list goes on!--I would stand with them. Even if Planned Parenthood was first and foremost an abortion provider, I would stand with them. 

I stand with every woman who is considering, has considered, will consider, is choosing, has chosen, or will choose abortion.

Not in spite of my education, not in spite of my Christianity but--straight up--because of those privileges and commitments, I stand with women. I stand with Planned Parenthood.

As my main man Martin Luther is famously quoted as saying: Here I stand, I can do no other. God help me.