“Selvedge”
by Sophia StidWe hear so much about the healing, but I want to know
about after the miracle, when everyone else has gone home.
The shape of the blankets left behind the body. The woman
who comes to shake them out and make the bed, her arms
strong from lifting the body that now walks. Eat, she said—
for years—eat, carrying tray after tray into the room where
she sat to rub the slackened muscles, bringing the blood there.
Why isn’t she the miracle? And those sisters in the kitchen,
banging around the pots, the spoons with a joy they’d never
felt before. Joy a new word in this world that could bring
what they loved back. Behind every resurrection: dailiness.
The woman kneeling in the dark on the third day. In her lap,
the linen she had woven and wrapped him in. Now, threads
hardened red with old god-blood. She made that cloth in her hands.
When cloth is manufactured, its edges are woven differently from the rest, a border that keeps the fabric from unraveling. This “selvedge” looks distinct from the rest of the cloth, a narrow border that hems in what would otherwise become threads, runs, and frayed edges. Selvedge is usually tucked away or cut off once garments are made, but without it there would be no intact fabric to start with.
On this Easter of infinite possibilities, the poet reminds us that new creation comes from longtime practices. Jesus doesn’t grow up as the Messiah without the daily care of his parents, including the seldom-considered domestic practices of Mary and other first-century women that made his life possible. And after Easter, the common people who experienced astonishing victory over death will return to their same daily and essential tasks, infused with joy. Behind every resurrection: dailiness.
What regular habits and practices form the selvedge of our lives? Easter joy more often exists not in a one-time spectacle but in our steady commitment to love self, neighbor, stranger, and creation, as often as possible, in a thousand everyday ways. On Easter and every day, we hope you show tender compassion for your body in all its perfect imperfections. Soak in what goodness there is to find from animals, plants, and time outdoors. Greet strangers, share meals, risk forgiveness, express thanks, give freely, release regret, and cherish stillness. A day hemmed in by these practices is less likely to unravel. These practices become seeds of resurrection that blossom into new life for the world.
Over a lifetime, as we seek to practice daily what Friedrich Nietzsche calls “a long obedience in the same direction,” we shall become what we repeatedly do. Our everyday and queer lives, at moments spectacular but mostly mundane, will be the cloth that cradles divinity, where resurrection is found on earth as in heaven.
Thank you for joining in this Queer Lent community! We are grateful to have shared the journey with you. We hope these daily meditations have offered you moments of reflection, inspiration, and hope. As we said at the beginning, Lent challenges us to confront all that causes us to feel unworthy so we can be drawn more deeply into the creative Love that sustains us. We have attempted to queer that challenge by exploring Lenten themes from a poetic angle, trying to overthrow the unholy oppression of LGBTQ people so that you might hear the voice of Love speaking in your own life.
As we bid you farewell, we invite you to ground yourselves again in this truth: You are worthy. You are holy. You are loved. Easter reminds us that death doesn’t have the final word and that new life is possible for each of us. May the spirit of love and renewal carry you through this season and beyond!
Oby Ballinger and Javen Swanson
Dear Javen and Oby,
I don't know how to express my gratitude to you for this beautiful work. You have given so much of yourselves in these daily writings; please know that they have been deeply appreciated by me and others. I will miss this daily connection with you - truly !
Much love,
Richard
These entries have been personal. It’s been a conversation with both of you each of these days leading up to today. I’ll cherish them and reread them and hold them close. Thank you for being you. For letting us in to your thoughts.
Mom