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Wes Moore: Fork in the Road
Wes Moore had a rough childhood growing up in Baltimore. His father died when he was a child, he struggled in school and was arrested for vandalism before something shifted. Moore grew up to be a Rhodes Scholar, White House fellow, and published writer. And along the way, he learned of another man who shared his same name, but is serving a life sentence in prison. He talks with Kate about what he learned from “the other” Wes Moore.
|Jun 02, 2020|
Gary Haugen: Joy is The Oxygen
Certain people decide to make other people's pain their own. Gary Haugen, founder and CEO of International Justice Mission, is one of those people. In this episode, Kate and Gary talk about how even in the darkest places, joy and goodness can be found.
|May 26, 2020|
Wajahat Ali: Make Me A Gardener
Wajahat Ali was about to give a TED talk on the global case for having more kids, when he received news no parent should ever hear. Kate and Waj speak about parenting amid fear, unexpected kindness, and how kids really are our greatest act of hope.
|May 19, 2020|
David Fajgenbaum: Hope Wears Sneakers
This is the story of one young doctor’s race against the clock as he searches for a cure for his own rare disease that brought him to the brink of death too many times to count. In this episode, Kate and David Fajgenbaum speak about facing impossible odds and how love can turn hope into action.
|May 12, 2020|
Lori Gottlieb: Does My Pain Count?
How do we find joy and connection when tragedy surrounds us? In this episode, Kate speaks with bestselling author and psychotherapist Lori Gottlieb about creating daily rhythms, living in the both/and, and experiencing grief in the time of COVID19.
|May 05, 2020|
Glennon Doyle: The Love Bridge
We need guides to walk with us when life goes a little off-script. In this episode, Kate speaks with bestselling author Glennon Doyle about unlearning the roles we're stuck inside even when it costs us and what's better than being perfect—being human.
|Apr 28, 2020|
Sunita Puri: The Uncertainty Specialist
Pain is like a geography—one that isn't foreign to palliative care physician, Dr. Sunita Puri. Kate and Sunita speak about needing new language for walking the borderlands and how we all might learn to live—and die—with a bit more courage.
|Apr 21, 2020|
The Emergency Button
When fear is overwhelming, sometimes you need to press the button—the emergency button. In this special episode, Kate gets real with the people that she calls when she needs to push the button. You'll hear from actor Joel McHale, writer Nora McInerny, preacher Beth Moore, and Kate's mom for a little dose of courage (and a lot of yelling by one of these people) in these uncertain times.
|Mar 31, 2020|
Ari Johnson: More than Enough
Sometimes everything is possible. Sometimes nothing is possible. How do you know the difference? Dr. Ari Johnson works to change the infant and mother mortality rates in Mali. Kate and Ari speak about how when other people are suffering, we must act, even when the problems seem insurmountable. Because your pain is mine too.
|Dec 03, 2019|
Angela Duckworth: Finding the Margins
Psychologist Angela Duckworth studies the significance of grit. There are those who experience a difficult circumstance and scrape by, and there are those who thrive in the aftermath. Together, Angela and Kate explore what makes the difference and how we can develop resiliency in ourselves and our kids.
|Nov 19, 2019|
Vivek Murthy: The Loneliness Epidemic
US Surgeon General Dr. Vivek Murthy embarked on a listening tour to determine what was ailing Americans. The answer surprised him. In this soulful conversation, he speaks with Kate about loneliness as a public health crisis and how the experience of disconnection affects our ability to weather life’s most difficult storms.
|Nov 05, 2019|
Jen Hatmaker: The Preacher's Wife
Author and speaker Jen Hatmaker ruled the Christian marketplace as the evangelical darling. But when her theology shifted, she learned how harsh the penalties could be. Kate and Jen speak about what it means to lead faithfully when you lose certainty.
|Oct 22, 2019|
Sister Helen Prejean: The Face of Love
Sister Helen Prejean didn't know what she was getting into when she became pen pals with an inmate on death row, a story told in the film, Dead Man Walking. Now, she's a fierce advocate against the death penalty. Sister Helen and Kate talk about finding purpose as a discovery that often begins with gentle nudges and tiny yeses.
|Oct 08, 2019|
Nora McInerny: It's Okay to Laugh
Nora McInerny had a miscarriage, lost her father, and lost her husband all within a few weeks. Much to her surprise, she kept living. But she didn’t “move on.” Nora and Kate discuss how grief is messier and less linear than we imagine. And even when you may feel like you might never “get over” what happened, love is there somehow. Nora shows us why it’s time to reframe how we think about a happy ending.
|Sep 24, 2019|
Sesame Street: How do we talk to kids about hard things?
How do we prepare our kids for a world we can't always protect them from? Sesame Street creates educational programs to make the most vulnerable among us smarter, stronger, and kinder in the face of difficult realities. On this episode, Kate speaks with Sherrie Westin, the President of Global Impact and Philanthropy at the Sesame Workshop on how to tell our kids the hard truths in age appropriate ways.
|Aug 13, 2019|
Andrew Solomon: The Stories of Who We Are
Writer Andrew Solomon never felt like he fit in. But studying other communities that celebrate differences transformed his sense of belonging and his parenting. Which aspects of our kids should we attempt to change and which need to be celebrated? Andrew and Kate discuss what it's like to be different from our family, find our people, and love our kids across difference.
|Jul 30, 2019|
Jerome Adams: We Belong to Each Other
US Surgeon General Dr. Jerome Adams is committed to combatting the rising fatalities from opioids because he knows the struggle too well. His brother is one of the millions of Americans who is ensnared by addiction. Jerome talks to Kate about how a broken heart helped him understand his job as “America’s doctor.”
|Jul 16, 2019|
John Swinton: The Speed of Love
The quality of time depends on our abilities and disabilities, possibilities and limitations. In a world of speed and productivity, Kate speaks with disability theologian John Swinton on how slowing down deepens our ability to love.
|Jul 02, 2019|
BJ Miller: Loving What Is
After an accident left BJ Miller with a serious physical disability, he had to learn how to be patient with his limitations. Now, he’s a palliative care physician who works every day to encourage people to be comfortable with limits and maybe even learn to love them, but not in a Pollyanna way. Kate and BJ discuss how living with the end in mind actually makes life… richer.
|Jun 18, 2019|
John Green: Chronic Not Curable
Society likes to tell the narrative of sick to healthy. But what if there are things we can’t just get over? In his novel, Turtles All The Way Down, John Green explores what it is like to live with something we can’t control. Together, Kate and John talk about finding identity amid chronic illness and how love just might save us all.
|Jun 04, 2019|
Kelly Corrigan: Tell Me More
When bestselling author Kelly Corrigan experienced the death of her dad and dear friend back-to-back, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she wasn’t living as gratefully as she wanted to. She reflects on her love and loss through ordinary moments and everyday sayings. Together, Kate and Kelly explore the phrases we cling to in order to find deeper connection and meaning during difficult times.
|May 21, 2019|
How to Grieve Well (Special Conversation)
What can we expect in the first moments of loss? How is it possible to grieve someone we may have never met? How can we best support people who are in mourning? In this special conversation, Kate speaks with Reverend Dr. Susan Dunlap about how our minds, bodies, and hearts respond to deep loss and the best practices for allowing ourselves space to grieve well.
|May 12, 2019|
Jayson Greene: The Language of Grief
When Jayson Greene’s two-year-old daughter died in a random tragedy, he was forced to find a way forward. What does it look like to hope again after loss? How do you be brave when the world is so terrifying? Jayson and Kate discuss how to stay open to love in the face of fear, especially as parents.
|May 07, 2019|
Mark Lukach: True Believers
Mark Lukach felt like he was hit with a tsunami when his beautiful marriage was upended by mental illness. With one diagnosis, he lost his wife and gained a lifelong patient. Mark and Kate explore the cost of caregiving and the importance of finding the true believers who will love through it all.
|Dec 18, 2018|
Barbara Brown Taylor: Life after Dark
Author and Episcopal priest Barbara Brown Taylor is no stranger to darkness. After experiencing devastating loss, Barbara explores our culture’s pursuit of the sunny side of life. But perhaps there are things we learn in the dark that we can’t learn in the light. Kate and Barbara discuss the two halves of our lives and how to practice courage even in the scariest of circumstances.
|Dec 04, 2018|
Emily McDowell: There's No Good Card for That
Why is it so hard to say the right thing to those going through difficult circumstances? Artist Emily McDowell was on the receiving end of some terrible responses after her own diagnosis. Now, she creates kind and irreverent greeting cards that teach us all how to be a little more human. She speaks with Kate about the best and worst things to say and do when our loved ones are hurting.
|Nov 20, 2018|
Alan Alda: Can You Hear Me Now?
Alan Alda is best known for his long, prolific acting career. But he has also devoted years to learning about – and teaching – communication. The Emmy-winning actor helped found the Alan Alda Center for Communicating Science at Stony Brook University, which teaches doctors and scientists how to communicate more effectively. He also authored the recent book “If I Understood You, Would I Have This Look on My Face?” The former star of television’s M*A*S*H*, who has appeared in such films as “Crimes and Misdemeanors” and “The Aviator,” talks with Kate about why human beings are so bad at communicating about sickness -- and about what helps them improve.
|Mar 20, 2018|
Wes Moore: Fork in the Road
Wes Moore had a rough childhood growing up in Baltimore. His father died when he was a young child, he struggled in school and was arrested for vandalism before something finally shifted. Moore grew up to become a Rhodes Scholar, White House fellow and published writer. And along the way, he had a strange experience: He learned of another young man raised in a similar neighborhood who shared his same name, but met a very different fate. In "The Other Wes Moore" he writes of his correspondence with the Wes Moore who is serving a life sentence in prison. He talks with Kate about what he learned from "the other" Wes Moore.
|Mar 13, 2018|
Margaret Feinberg: Joyful, Anyway
Bestselling author and speaker Margaret Feinberg was writing a book about joy when her world fell apart. Suddenly she was fighting for her life and re-writing the book from scratch. Feinberg talks about how she learned how to be happy again, despite everything.
|Mar 06, 2018|
Alexandra Petri: Awkward
Washington Post columnist Alexandra Petri is the queen of awkwardness. She didn’t audition for “America’s Next Top Model” and become a yodeling champion without a high tolerance for the sound of people laughing. And as it turns out, building up your ability to embrace awkwardness can be a kind of superpower during difficult times…if you know how to use it.
|Feb 20, 2018|
Lucy Kalanithi: Costly Love
When Lucy Kalanithi fell for another doctor, she couldn't know how much love would teach her about suffering. Lucy Kalanithi is the widow of Dr. Paul Kalanithi, author of the bestselling memoir, “When Breath Becomes Air.” She talks about the high cost of love and how all the best things in life are those you are afraid to lose.
|Feb 14, 2018|
Ray Barfield: This is Going to Hurt Just a Little
Dr. Ray Barfield knew when he entered the field of pediatric oncology that he was going to have an unusually tough day job. Some kids die. Some kids live. But after one particularly tough case, Ray couldn’t do it anymore.
|Feb 10, 2018|
Nadia Bolz-Weber: The Insight of Outsiders
Before Nadia Bolz-Weber became famous as a foul-mouthed pastor and bestselling author, she was an alcoholic and stand-up comedian. This episode is devoted to the insight of outsiders, and how Nadia learned to confront her own demons with hard truths, good company and a delightfully inappropriate sense of humor.
This is Everything Happens. I’m Kate Bowler.
I lived a pretty shiny life, but lately, not so much. On one level, everything is perfect. I married my high school sweetheart. I’m the mom of an amazing little boy. I have my dream job as a professor at Duke Divinity school, where I’m a historian of North American Religion. Maybe not everyone’s dream, but it was my dream. Perfect, right? Except that life has been hard. At 35, I was diagnosed with stage 4 cancer. There was no history of cancer in my family, and then, poof, there I was, trying not to die. I was watching my son learn to walk and trying to keep him away from the toxic chemotherapy bag attached to my waist. This podcast is about those times where you realize your life doesn’t look good on Facebook.
It’s about trying to figure out how to be a human being in a world that loves you more when you are shiny and whole. And what you learn when you aren’t. This is “Everything Happens.”
So I know it may sound difficult or depressing and you’re thinking “please let me get away from this now,” but hold on a sec. In this series I have conversations with some wonderful and sometimes hilarious guests who have made it through their own terrible times. And who have interesting and surprising and even funny things to say about how to make it through the dark.
Before Nadia Bolz-Weber became famous as a foul-mouthed pastor and bestselling author, she was an alcoholic and stand-up comedian. This episode is devoted to the insight of outsiders, and how Nadia learned to confront her own demons with hard truths, good company, and a joyfully inappropriate sense of humor.
One thing I really appreciate when I’m going through my own terrible time is frankness. Another is openness, the willingness to meet peoples’ problems head on. My guest today, Nadia Bolz-Weber, is famous for both. She never … I don’t know, pulls punches I guess … when dealing with life’s hard stuff.
Kate Bowler: Nadia Bolz-Weber is a New York Times bestselling author of books like Pastrix and Accidental Saints, and she’s a speaker and a mom and a church-founder, and she’s really good at crossfit and yoga. And also, she’s a comedian, but we’ll get to that later. She’s also really famous for her super cool tattoos and terrible language, which I find incredibly endearing. She’s a minister, but she doesn’t only preach to the bright, shiny people. Instead, she seeks out, kind of, everyone else. Nadia is annoyingly cool for being a Lutheran pastor, a tradition we should all equate with casseroles and Swedish people in the Midwest. Nadia, I’m so grateful you can make time for this today.
Nadia Bolz-Weber: Oh, thanks so much.
KB: So I have to admit that you’re the kind of person that I always want to tell my horrible problems to. Not the fun secrets, like the genuinely awful stuff.
NBW: Oh, that might be the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me. I love that.
KB: Do you get that a lot?
NBW: I do. Yeah.
KB: Is that like a skill you’ve nurtured over the years?
NBW: Well, no, I just think I’m such an obviously horrible person, so people are like, “Boy, that bar is low.” So, how bad could my stuff be? Might as well just fess up. Well, it’s also just like, you know, I take people’s confessions and private confession and absolution. And this one woman, after she went through the entire process, and the thing she confessed was juicy, whereas usually when people confess stuff, that I’m like, "Look, nothing personal, but I’m unimpressed with your sin, like, you should probably go out and try harder,"
But she confessed something nice and juicy, and when she was relaxed and kind of laughing at the end, she goes, “I’m so glad you’re my pastor because I just, I just know that you’ve done much worse than that.”
KB: Well, I’ve thought a lot about the kind of person you want to tell your horrible stuff to… and when I read your book, I kind of wondered if a lot of what set you on your present path was that first church, who was really church to you. Do you mind telling us a little about the Rowing Club, as you called them?
NBW: Oh yeah, I mean, you know, as somebody in recovery, it’s just hard to do on your own. You know, you have to do it with a group of other people who are messed up in the same way you are but have found some light, in their darkness. And so, you know, sitting in those rooms in 12 step meetings, you just sort of, um, I don’t know. There’s a particular type of hope that only comes from being in the midst of people who’ve really suffered and who’ve suffered at their own hand. And can be completely and totally honest about that, you know? I mean, there’s so much more hope to be found there than to be found in people who their project is being as good as they can. I don’t know how to say that.
KB: Tearing down their kitchen. I hear a lot of people’s dreams. And their dreams seem really Instagram-y.
NBW: Yeah, yeah, my dream is to take a yoga class where I don’t get angry.
KB: I like thinking of you as bringing rage to hobbies that don’t necessarily elicit rage.
NBW: Yeah, yeah. Yoga makes me … there’s always a point, and you know, it’s always a 20- year-old in $100 yoga pants who’s teaching the class.
KB: Oh yeah, she’s doing great.
NBW: Who will keep me in horrible, uncomfortable positions for like, really, purgatorial amounts of time until I start grimacing. Until she’s like, “We’ve learned so much about ourselves on the mat.” You know, I’m like… ughhhhhh.
KB: I learned that I hate you.
KB: So you cultivated, though…I think part of what I immediately loved about you is that you tend to cultivate the company of others who get that suffering, who get that outsider-ness. Are those people from your first church still kind of your template of those who you surround yourself with?
NBW: Yeah, in a way. There are ways in which my congregation looks like two different communities I was a part of before I started the church, in a way I wasn’t aware of until after I started going to the church I’d been going to for a couple of years. And one of them definitely is, you know, 12-step community, in terms of truth telling. I feel like, you know a lot of these 12-step programs are held in churches. And I’m like, man, people are speaking honestly about their lives and are connecting to God and to one another so much more frequently in church basements than in church sanctuaries.
And so I think House for All Sinners and Saints, the congregation that I’ve served for 10 years, that I’m the founder of, is a little more church basement-y than church sanctuary. That like, stark honesty about ourselves, and our lives in the world that is spoken in that room. And the other one is, oddly this Unitarian summer camp that I worked at for five years in my early 20s, and it was, um, it was just such a profoundly accepting place. And it was the first time that it felt like being me was a good thing instead of a problem. And I showed up there on staff, and I was like, celebrated. People were like, “You’re awesome,” and I was like, “I don’t get that reaction much.” You know? And being in a space where I felt accepted and even celebrated, man, it allowed me to relax into myself in a way that felt holy, and so, I think that’s one of the things that people end up saying about the congregation.
People are just accepted. You just walk in the door, you can relax. So I think that my congregation ended up being this weird combination of these two communities that affected me so profoundly.
KB: Wow, and remind me again, why were they called the Rowing Club? Why would you call them that again?
NBW: Well, it’s because there’s this sense of, like, we’re this rowboat of idiots who are just doing as best we can, and when one of us jumps ship, everybody else has to paddle harder. And it really had to do with my friend P.J. committing suicide. He was a fellow stand-up comic and member of the rowing team of this 12-step meeting I went to, and when P.J. died, it felt like all of us had to row harder.
NBW: Because there wasn’t a lot separating us from P.J. And he had been doing some of the rowing for us. And I actually think there’s faith that way, in a sense as well, I’ve been known to say that faith is a team sport, not an individual competition, in that we hold the faith on each other’s backs. So when I can’t believe, someone else is believing for me, and vice versa. Sometimes we’re the ones being lowered through the roof to Jesus, and sometimes we’re the ones doing the lowering. And I just think of it collectively in that sense, you know?
KB: I mean, I loved your writing about how you really became a pastor in those moments, a pastor to that particular, beautiful community, at a funeral
NBW: Yeah, I never meant to be a pastor. Nobody had met me and thought, “You should go to seminary,” you know? But it was the fact that P.J. died, and my friends just looked at me and thought, “Well, you can do the funeral, right?” And I wasn’t in seminary at the time, it was just that I was the only religious one in my friend group, you know? And then I was standing there looking out, it was at the comedy works at downtown Denver, and it was just packed with queers and academics and comics and recovering alcoholics, and I was giving P.J.’s eulogy, and there was this way, and I just looked and I thought, “They don’t have a pastor.” Then, my next thought was, “Oh shit, uh, uh, I think that might be me. What? What?” My call, ‘call to ministry,’ was really particular. Not generic, it was really particular.
KB: It seems like it came about in this really unvarnished way. I wonder, I mean, I wonder if you still, when you’re doing funerals now, if you feel any of the same things you felt during the first moment, if there’s like something you discovered about how to do that hard work that just felt like it fit?
NBW: Well, yeah, I guess I never thought about that. I’ve only done a couple funerals. We don’t really have elderly people in my congregation so to speak. I think my parents might be the oldest people in the church, in their 70s. So I’ve only done a few funerals. In ten years of being a pastor, I think I’ve done three. So it’s not a huge part of my pastoral practice.
But I think just in terms of being unafraid to speak the truth, you don’t have to make up things. You can just speak the truth, because if you do that about somebody, both the good and bad, then there’s going to be hope and humor and grace in it. I like to say that nothing is ever only one thing. Like people are never only one thing. So, I think even in death, you know, we can tell the whole truth and it’s okay. So there’s more hope to be found in the sort of both this-and-this thinking than this-or-this thinking, so both and rather than either or.
KB: You know, weirdly enough, that was my favorite part of the Tina Fey memoir is when she said, “The best thing from comedy was the ‘yes, and.’” I really found the worse my life gets, the more I really revel in the absurd humor of life. Does that make sense to you?
KB: I mean, before you were a pastor, you were a stand-up comedian. I love that line in your, I think it’s in Pastrix, how you learned honesty in these green rooms of comedy rooms, but it was kind of an emotional Darwinianism. That people spoke the truth, but they’re eating each other alive. I wonder though, if you found a comedy that actually helps in dark times.
NBW: Oh my gosh, absolutely. I mean, that’s why, like super happy people who haven’t had much suffering and don’t have unusual brain chemistries usually aren’t that funny.
KB: Now I feel like I know a bunch of girls named Kaitlin, and their lives are going great. But they aren’t the funniest people.
NBW: I mean, it is this sort of interesting survival mechanism that we have as a species, because interesting thing about laughter and humor, is there’s a brain chemistry element to it. It’s a bit of a reset button for our brain chemistry, if we can laugh, so it keeps us from being pulled under too deeply. Like that’s how we come up for air. The other thing I think is important to note about humor is it’s never funny to talk about it. There’s no way when discussing humor. It’s like when somebody has to explain a joke. Also, I feel like in some ways it’s bizarrely related to someone’s social media profile, when they say they like to have fun. You know? You can be guaranteed that they’re not actually a fun person to hang out with.
It’s they see other people having fun, and they know that that looks enjoyable.
KB: Well, scrapbooking stores are made for those who know how to have fun. But I do love, though, I love in your writing how transparent you are about how the fact that during your worst moments, they were also some of your more comedically fruitful times. So, was it, I mean, you’ve been pretty transparent about your early years of comedy. Was that the same time when you were battling alcoholism?
NBW: Oh yeah, yeah, for sure. And also, just to note, some of the funniest people are ICU nurses.
KB: Yes, yes yes yes.
NBW: Okay, like I’ll just say, when I was doing CPE – CPE was a clinical pastoral education, where you have to go be a chaplain for a while – I found them terrifying. ICU nurses are terrifying, I just tried to keep my distance, but I was checking in on this one patient who I was following. She tried to commit suicide, she took a lot of pills. And she had a brain injury from the overdose, and they were keeping her under, waiting to see what her functionality would be. So every day I would check in, I’d be like, “Is she awake?” They’d be like, “No…” so we didn’t know what her functionality was going to be like, and so finally I went, and I said, “Is she awake?” And they go, “Yeah, yeah.” And I said, “So?” “Yeah, well you know, she’ll never be a Jeopardy contestant. She’ll play a hell of a Shoots ‘N’ Ladders.” And I was like, only people who are constantly around tragedy could make that kind of joke.
KB: Yes, yes. I’ve always had those, like my high moments have always been those pre-surgery moments.
And some of them have been unconscious like when I grab the nurse and pull them really close to my face for my wisdom teeth removal and say, “Keep the teeth, I’m making a necklace for Toban.” Yesterday, when I made those comments to the internist, “And how do you know how this procedure is done?” And I was like, “Well, the surgeon will claw through my skin like a badger,” and I’ve just been … aware, I think maybe for ministry and for nursing, that there’s a pageantry that you have to go through that also makes you aware of the heightened human drama.
NBW: Like, my congregation, there’s a lot of just uproarious laughter. Usually, when we do something wrong, we think it’s hilarious, like we’re anti-excellence, pro-participation.
So you can imagine nothing’s ever really done that well, and we think it’s so funny. But also, they laugh, uh, most weeks, the congregation laughs during the scripture readings. Because it’s like, just there’s so much human folly in scripture. So instead of being pious and listening to like, what’s the Lord saying to me, you know, in a way, they’re listening for like, where am I in this? Where is the folly in this text? And they just laugh. There’s a lot of humor and sort of what other people consider inappropriate laughter throughout our life in a community, and it’s related to suffering in a sense. I think because it’s a congregation that’s unafraid of suffering, unafraid to speak the truth of suffering, that that excavates something out of us that joy can go deeper, that laughter can go deeper.
Because that suffering has excavated something out within us. I can’t fully explain how our capacity to hold suffering relates to our capacity to hold joy, but man, I think they’re related.
KB: Oh, I think that’s exactly right. I mean, that was one of the weirdest – I don’t know like this past month has been particularly dramatic with health and – you know, the second I got bad news, it was weird, but I woke up the next morning, and I sort of felt like someone had slapped me in the face, and I felt like bright and clear. And some of it was, I had to take this stupid work trip, and sorry, wonderful work trip for those that I live with, and uh, and I got off the plane, saw a friend, and said, “Do you want to go visit the world’s largest Ukrainian sausage?”
And they’re like, “Yes, yes I do.” And it went right to the love of absurdity, standing in a field jumping up and down for no reason, throwing a party where we all have to dress up like Christmas album covers. I just wanted to do the stupid and the fun. And yeah, I think that’s right, like the pain digs something out. And joy fills it. I was thinking about how hard it is to hold onto the lessons you learn when you are broken, because I mean, I know you surround yourself by people, you cultivate, um, that sense of fragility, I think in your life, and I think that’s really beautiful. But sometimes I think when I go through something awful, it’s more like pregnancy and childbirth. It’s terrible. I remember it. I’m deeply implicated by these lessons, and then it’s over! And I find it really hard to hold onto the sense of connectedness I had with other people who were also in pain.
Do you think we’re sort of destined to forget the important things that we learn?
NBW: Um, I can’t remember. [laughter] Yeah, of course. That’s the hard thing, is when I’ll have some aha-moment, a moment of clarity or something like that, and then, and then, nine months later, I’ll think of it again for the first time in nine months. Do you know what I mean? I think it is. There’s only, you know, how much of a capacity for growth can we realistically have? I mean, it’s kind of like Tide detergent has been improving itself since it was invented – New and Improved! I don’t know, how much … I mean, I think that, my hope is that we grow in wisdom, that there’s wisdom that can sort of accumulate maybe in our lives.
That’s my, I mean, if I have any hope for humans, it would be that, more than the hope being we don’t make mistakes or we remember all of our lessons, or we’re constantly improving like Tide detergent. Or we’ve undergone the process of our own sanctification so perfectly that we don’t actually need God anymore.
KB: No, that’s a good Lutheran answer. Yep, yep. Why is community, then, so important to make us stop being total monsters?
NBW: Well, because it provides something we can’t provide for ourselves. But it also confronts us, like, one of the reasons people avoid community is because other people are disappointing. You know? And yet, by being in community, we take turns being the ones who are disappointing.
And then, forgive each other and move on. And you know, maybe it’s that guy’s turn to be disappointing, but next week it’ll be me. So it’s that culture of turn-taking when it comes to being the ones who need grace, or who are giving grace, or who remind each other that grace is a thing. That’s why I think communities that are set up, like, here is the designated helpers and the healthy people, and here are the designated problem people. That it’s BS. Everybody’s both. I’ve seen the more highly functional people in our community have a need met by some of the less functional people in the community.
NBW: And so, I think if we tell ourselves the story other than that, we’re just not getting it. You know?
I struggle with church. I mean, I had to start a church I’d feel comfortable showing up. But church in general is so limited in the ways in which its embodied and expressed. And it feels accessible only to certain types of people, like if you happen to have that personality and have that life-story, it’s a great fit for you and you’ll feel comfortable, but like, what about everyone else?
That’s why I’m like, I think House for All Sinners and Saints is like, if you took one of those colanders, like those pasta strainers with the round holes in the bottom, and you put all the Christians in Denver in this, or even the people who were even vaguely interested in Christianity in the big colander, the ones that are too oddly shaped to fit through the holes, the ones that are left in the bottoms afterwards, that’s House for All Sinners and Saints. They’re too oddly shaped to go through the holes.
KB: That would make a nice banner. “It’s the lumpy church!” Exclamation point.
NBW: My dad calls it, it’s kind of like high church at the Star Wars cantina.
KB: Oboe players as far as the eye can see… that’s so funny. You know, I think for me, one of the most painful parts of going to church and being sick, is I’m often forced to explain why I’m sick, like I’m the problem to be solved. I think everywhere I go, and every Facebook comment section is a lot of, “everything happens for a reason.” I wonder why you think people insist on being so trite about suffering.
NBW: Because our own fragility is terrifying to us. You know, it’s why people who are physically disabled are hard to be around. Because one thing could happen to me and I could be physically disabled for the rest of my life. And I don’t particularly like to embrace that fragility, I like to ignore that it’s even a thing or a possibility.
So, it’s easier to go, “well, there’s a reason it’s happened to that person.” Or whatever. I think it’s that we’re terrified of certain parts of ourselves. Yeah. I mean, this was a huge thing for me, which I’ve written about, is like, why are there so many socially awkward people at House for All Sinners and Saints, and I’m like, “Why aren’t I attracting people like me?” And it wasn’t until I was able to really look at my story and myself and things I tried to hide and not show and stuff from my childhood that was really painful, that profound alienation I experienced in my life, like when I was able to look at that, I was like, “Oh, well, I have been attracting that are like me from the beginning. But it wasn’t the funny tattooed sarcastic person, it was the bug-eyed sick painfully skinny girl who ate all of her lunches alone in middle school.” That’s who’s bringing them in.
Instead of reacting and being like, “this person is making me uncomfortable,” you know, I kind of went, oh, by loving them and accepting them, I’m loving that 12-year-old girl in me who I’ve done nothing but try and hide from everyone. It’s hard. I mean, that’s hard work. So when people are sick, that makes us uncomfortable. We don’t want to be next. We don’t, that kind of fragility and uncertainty is a pretty devastating thing, so we try to cover our ears and go “la la la la.”
KB: Or love the shiny version of me. I really like that.
KB: Well, you know, this makes me think of all the times in the last couple of years when I’ve been the most raw, the most exposed, and the most vulnerable, and I have found it almost impossible to separate how I see other people from how they see me. You know? And in the midst of the most vulnerability, I think it does require the kind of community, the kind of coming alongside, the kind of forgiveness you’re describing, in which we take our burdened selves to each other and we say, I see that.
KB: It’s going to be okay. So, what do you say to people who think they’re too hurt for community?
NBW: Well, sometimes I’ll say, “vulnerability is invitational.”
When people have risked telling the truth about themselves in our community, that has been unbelievably healing for other people, for whom that thing is also truth and have not been able to say it yet. So I think that, again, it’s the rowing team idea. When somebody says something, like takes that risk, and I identify with it, I feel less shame, I feel more hope. I feel less hidden and alone. We do that for each other, you know? And I think that’s an important piece. And that’s the only …
You know it’s funny because will fault me for using, for saying bad words, and you know, as a pastor, and on social media. “You’re supposed to be an example!” An example of what? Competitive piety? Pretending to be somebody I’m not? Look, if I’m supposed to be an example of something, I’m an example of what it looks like to be in need of grace.
I’m an example of what it looks like to receive grace I didn’t deserve.
KB: Is there something in the midst of terrible times that someone can say that’s especially helpful? I get that question a lot, and I’m curious as to what you’d say.
NBW: I don’t know. I mean, I can tell you what I said to my daughter when she had her first boyfriend. Last year.
And she was really happy. And I said “Honey, there’s a reason so many songs and poems and movies and blah, blah have been written about this feeling. Because it’s amazing. And, you know, if this goes south, or he hurts you, or you break up, there might be a commiserate low to the high you’re feeling, and that will feel as shitty as this feels good. And if that happens, you should just know a couple of things. Just because it feels bad doesn’t mean something’s wrong. And nobody escapes that.”
You know? Like, this is part of the deal. So, um, I don’t know. I think that those kinds of ideas, you know, the reason it hurts is because it’s painful, not like, the reason this thing in your life is hard is because hard things in life are hard.
It’s not a spiritual failing of yours that this feels bad. Hard things feel hard. Period.
KB: Yeah, that’s a perfect thing to say. In the hospital, I always say, “This sucks because it’s painful.”
KB: I’m exhausted because it’s exhausting. And sometimes the truest thing we can do for each other is to look honestly at one another’s pain and say, “Wow, I can honestly say that that sucks.”
And it brings me back to my first thought about you. You’re the one I really want to tell all my horrible stuff to. And thank God for that.
NBW: Really. Aww. I’ll hear it anytime. I love people’s horrible stuff.
KB: Thanks so much for doing this today. I really appreciate it.
NBW: You bet. Anytime.
KB: Talking to Nadia makes me wonder if we all need to go to Alcoholics Anonymous immediately and just learn some things. Her whole imagination for what church should be like and what friendship should be like seems to rest on a couple of ideas that are staples for anyone in recovery. First, tell the truth. It hurts, but it also sort of feels good. Tell the truth about yourself, and be the kind of person who wants to hear it when someone else says, here is my horrible secret. Second, you’re probably useless by yourself. Nadia had that rowing club, her wonderful rowboat of idiots, she said. I had my besties, who flew in to save the day.
My two best friends from Canada flew down to North Carolina, and then drove the seven hours with me to Atlanta, just so they could be there with me when I got my first chemotherapy treatment. Because I was terrified. All I could picture were these awful chemical pumping into my body, and I thought I would immediately never be the same. So they came along for the ride. They brought snacks. And they made fun of the hypochondriac nurse who advised me to never take a nap again. They fixed my hair, and they took pictures in order to perfect the chemo selfie. I needed them to be there and to tell the truth, even if the truth was, “Oh honey, yeah, you look awful.”
But then, one of them took out some concealer. And we were off to the races again.
So in the next episode I’m going to talk to my friend Ray Barfield. Ray was the best person for me in the worst moment of my life. Ray treats kids with cancer. So somewhere along the way he had to figure out how to let people break your heart.
Everything Happens is produced by Duke University in association with North Carolina Public Radio/WUNC. Support comes from Faith & Leadership, an online learning resource.
And we’d love to hear from you. If you like what you’re hearing, please post a review on iTunes. And while you’re there, be sure to hit that subscribe button. You can find me on Facebook (always), Instagram (often) and Twitter (every day) @katecbowler. Let’s chat.
Until next time, this is “Everything Happens” with me, Kate Bowler.
|Feb 06, 2018|
Everything Happens: Series Preview
Life isn't always bright and shiny, as Kate Bowler knows. Kate is a young mother, writer and professor who, at age 35, was suddenly diagnosed with Stage IV cancer. In, warm, insightful, often funny conversations, Kate talks with people about what they've learned in dark times. Kate teaches at Duke Divinity School and is author of "Everything Happens (And Other Lies I've Loved)."
|Jan 26, 2018|