Counting Mint Leaves

When harm happens in faith communities it not only creates a betrayal trauma for survivors but also has a way of disturbing the ability to feel at ease in that (or other) faith communities. This is not a new problem but maybe we havnen’t considered how this might happen. Imagine that you were attacked as you walked to your car after a night at the theatre. Would it not be expected that you would now have a harder time walking to your car in the dark? Things that you did with ease now are difficult or impossible–at least for a season. So too this is the case when harm happens in a faith community or when that community ignores or rejects that you have been harmed.

If your faith leaders tell you that you should just be fine now, you should move on, trust God, then you most likely feel a growing disconnect with those leaders. Even more so, if it was leadership that created the harm in the first place. For many it is hard to find words to describe this loss of sanctuary. Sometimes art, music, or poetry speaks to this experience better than prose. A friend of mine recently used the word, “hollow” to describe a former church community that seemed to continue the pomp and circumstance while treating her as invisible. With that word in mind, I penned these words using imagery from texts from Isaiah and Jeremiah (and quoted by Jesus) to illustrate the problem of empty religious activity while the oppression within is ignored. If you have experienced such betrayals, maybe these captures some of your lament.

Counting Mint Leaves

How can we say,
“Hallowed be thy name,”
while refusing to hallow
what you hold sacred?

We honor you with our lips,
while our hearts
swear other allegiances.

We count mint leaves,
measure dill,
and tell the oppressed in our midst
to stop disturbing our peace.

We polish the vessel
but remove its contents.

We hand the thirsty
an empty cup,
and tell them to pray for water.

We hollow the hallow.

Our praise echoes
in an empty sanctuary.

Phil Monroe 6.14.26