Feathers and Faith

Occupying Saint Louis in the Cardinal Nation or Politics and Baseball

2011-10-28T12:13:00.000-05:00

Today is the day that the Lord has made; I am rejoicing and conflicted.

As with a good portion of St. Louisans, I am worn out but elated with the St. Louis Cardinals win in the sixth game of the World Series last night. Because of their win, the Series is tied again by the Texas Rangers and the aforementioned Cardinals. The Cards have a new nickname, “Cardiac Cards” due, in great measure, to the fact that they basically lost the game and almost the series to the Rangers. Score lagging, error prone, bats only hitting to infield causing double plays…not a good combination to win against a World Series team…which the Texas Rangers definitely are.

Regardless…at the last moment with two strikes and two outs in the 9^th inning, the Cardinals pulled out of a loss and into a tie and extra innings. Then behind. Then again – so close to losing the 2011 World Series, they tied the game up. In the 11^th hour … well, not really, it was actually the 11^th inning, they finally, unexpectedly and many might say undeservedly, won. Had the Cardinals played throughout the game as they did in the last three innings, there would be no question of deservedness.

Regardless, as a result of the crazy and dramatic win, the St. Louis Cardinals, with their new nickname, will host the Texas Rangers in the very last game of this year’s World Series. There will be a winner tonight. It will be done. Who it will be will be determined by the 9^th inning…or the 11^th…or, let us say, at the end.

So, what is the conflict? Not between the Cardinals and Rangers…although I have had several moments and actually quite a few more last night when I thought the Rangers deserved to win the World Series. But no. That is not it.

Debbie had a meeting last night at the Cathedral so Tucker and I decided to walk down to Kiener Plaza to see up close and personal how OccupyStL has expanded since the first time I was down there. Since that one time, I have only followed and supported through Facebook.

It was 6:30 in the evening, sixth game of the World Series. There were people everywhere! At Kiener Plaza, a few blocks from Busch Stadium, within the plaza itself, there was quite a bit of activity within the ring of tents that lined the area. Yet on the sidewalks briskly walking toward the stadium, were those in a hurry to get to their seats prior to that first pitch.

Tucker and I stopped to speak to a couple of the OccupyStL group…a young man and an older woman who were handing out info flyers. The young man said he wasn’t staying at the plaza because he had a job but that he came in the evenings and on weekends. He said he had been there since near the beginning. The woman appeared less likely to have a job…or a home other than the one there in the plaza. She was very enthusiastic in her support of OccupyStL and seemed to be a part of and very well informed as to all that was going on. As much as anything, she seemed hopeful that what was happening was a good thing and that as a result, good would come from what they were doing.

The young man and I talked about the lack of police presence at Kiener. We talked about the frightful scene at Occupy Oakland that had happened earlier. I wondered aloud if the St. Louis police were staying away from Kiener Plaza because of the World Series in town. He said he thought they were hoping that all the protesters would go away as the temperatures fell and that they were just waiting for winter. He said with great pride and a good deal of hope that “we” (the protesters) were not going anywhere. And I believed him.

Drawn by the lure of lights and all those things that have drawn generations of people of all ages to the sound of a baseball game, Tucker and I continued to wander towards the sight and sound of something as American as rebellion...Baseball. We paused outside of Mike Shannon’s on the corner just across from the Stadium. A big screen television was blaring in the outside bar; a woman in a kiosk was selling beer, people were standing around drinking, talking, laughing…hoping…

Still, the lights and roar of the crowd drew us closer until we were standing outside the wrought-iron fence that separated those who had and those who wanted.

All along the way, we were stopped by one or another who wanted us to buy or give. One guy stopped Tucker, handed him an American flag pin and then wanted a donation. I told him I had no money…which was truth. Tucker gave him the seventy-five cents he had in his pocket and the guy told him, “Well, you can keep the pin anyway” as though Tucker had not given him the correct “donation”. Later he said, as we passed a buy playing a guitar with a tip jar near his case, “I should have saved the change to give to this guy.”

One couple that passed us answered Tuck’s question of how they got their tickets and how much did these cost with a quick, “a friend and face value”. Tucker asked what was face value and the guy told him $250 each. A couple of comments were tossed out of how much the tickets would cost for the 7^th game IF there was a 7^th game.

It is a definite that the stadium will be filled tonight with people who paid exorbitant amounts for a chance to be a part of this historic season as a Cardinal (with their 10 previous WS wins) or a Ranger (second time to the series and a very good chance of winning their 1^st WS) team wins.

Baseball, a game so many have loved and revered as a part of the American dream, thrives with its philanthropic millionaire players blasting homerun balls into the upper tiers of mega-dollar stadiums filled with affluent and, at minimum, very lucky attendees. Meanwhile, down the street, testifying against the corporate greed that has so rocked and rolled our world that the homeless and those who have chosen to be away from home, the toothless and the pediatric orthodontic white gleaming smiles of young adults, the dreadlocks and the balding, the dirty from the inability to wash and the dirt taken on in penance, have all mixed together in one voice, here and across the nation to say, “It’s gone too far.”

I am drawn to the voices speaking out in the midst of the injustice in the chaos of the day and in the silence of the night, turning their lives upside down for a chance to be seen and hopefully heard…for a chance to be a part of a change for the good. And I am drawn like a moth to the bright lights and the roar of the crowd and the allure of all that is baseball. I am drawn to and filled by the hope that comes from both.

I believe the hope will outweigh the conflict. Well I know that the Occupy spaces across the nation hold within them the power to bring about the changes that are so needed in our world…a chance to adjust the imbalance created by our legislature and our courts…created in large part by our own lack of action…our silence that allowed this imbalance to over tilt to one side.

We are the Occupy forces whether we realize it or not. We are them. They are us. Homeless or not; teeth in place bright and shiny or not; by choice or by circumstance…we are them. They are us.

We are a part of the American Dream, be it politics or baseball. Regardless of whether we have the money to buy a World Series ticket or even a cheap seat ticket during the regular season; even if we are one of the ones who have the dollars to philanthropically give to the charity or cause of our choice whether it be hundreds of thousands or simply seventy five cents…we are a part of the American Dream.

It is time for us to live into that idea that politics are a part of that dream and that if we, the 99%, are missing from that mix, the dream is not being fulfilled. Regardless of our place in life, we have a responsibility to be an active part of the system.

As I walked by the young man and the woman as we headed back to the Cathedral, I told them thank you. It’s not enough but it is a beginning. Hope lives.

Hopeville, Saint Louis, MO, USA

2011-09-10T16:44:00.005-05:00

During the Great Depression, my grandmother and grandfather were a newly married couple. Their first home together was in a Tent City in northwest Tarrant County Texas in the area of where Eagle Mountain Reservoir would eventually be as the dam was completed and the reservoir began to fill up. My grandfather was one of the lucky ones working for the Civilian Conservation Corps. He had a job and they had a home, albeit a tent. Plus, they had a community.

Our friend, Connie, called Saturday morning and said, “Barbi, you have to come out here and see this. We are in Hopeville, the tent city.” So, Debbie, Tucker and I jumped in the car and went there.

What is community but a diverse group of people pulled together by a common thread. That is Hopeville.

Connie had been told to talk to “Big Mama” before she walked into the community. So, she asked for Big Mama. She was told that Big Mama was in the shower and would be out soon.

Shower? In a tent city?

Well, why not, indeed? When we used to camp a lot, we had one of those black water bags with a shower hose attached. Fill it up, let it sit in the sun for a while and a nice warm shower c ould be had even out in the woods. So, why not in Hopeville? I have no idea what their shower looked like but I do know that “necessity is the mother of invention.”

Picturesque it was not. There were many rickety looking structures, fraying tarps and tall weeds all around the area. But if one looked deeper, there were tents raised on platforms to keep them out of any rainwater runoff. There was a popup camper and a few more tents hidden away in the woods with front porches and areas to sit and enjoy the company of neighbors or the quiet of the evening…at least as quiet as it can be in the city.

There was the communal area where meals are shared if one had a desire to do so. There were port-a-potties set off from the “homes”. There is even a mail box set up on 1^st Street and a USPS vehicle delivered mail while we were there.

The Saturday morning of our visit, a local preacher had come by to share a prayer, a scripture and a blessing before the breakfast. The smell of sausage, onions and hashbrowns cooking filled the air. Eggs had been brought by Connie and her husband. We came empty handed…not knowing what was expected or what was needed.

So, we just listened and looked. And asked a few questions.

Big Mama used to work in Social Services, mostly with people who had mental health issues. She was laid off and ended up losing her home. She is now the “Major” of Hopeville. One guy is the Constable type person, making certain that things don’t get out of hand and that order is kept. One couple had been in Hopeville in the past but had just returned two months ago. He was trained as a chef at Cordon Bleu Culinary School. He started work at the age of 15 as a grill cook. He supervised the cooking for the morning meal.

Away from the main crowd was a young couple. I don’t know their intentions but it seemed obvious that they had a purpose and were about to set off to accomplish that which they had planned. Not that much different than many other young couples on any given Saturday morning.

It occurred to me at the moment of watching them, rather naively, I might add, that just because one does not have a stationary building overhead does not mean that one is “home” less. A home is where one’s heart is, so the saying goes.

As the young woman walked past us after getting her breakfast, she told us thank you…as if we had done something other than just BE in their space. She and her male companion got in their car and left to do whatever it was they had planned.

Although I do know that being homeless can and does create anxiety, stress and fear which can lead to disorders associated with mental illness, I will venture to say that there are many other reasons for homelessness other than mental health.I didn’t meet anyone in Hopeville that had any more evidence of mental illnesses than those of us visiting. There was laughter, good natured ribbing, one grouchy old guy, sassy young people, some aloof, many sort of wary, some singing, some shouting orders… there was even a dog chasing a cat. Everyone seemed to very normal. (whatever the heck that is…) Perhaps ordinary is a better word to use. Everyone seemed ordinary.

There are many opinions about Hopeville and whether or not it should be allowed to remain a viable community. Larry Rice and the New Life Evangelistic Center believe that the tent city is a better alternative than living on the streets. Lord knows, NLEC is full to capacity at any given time. As I have seen, the city seems full of people with no homes looking for some sort of space they can claim as their own. The area surrounding Centenary Methodist Church and St. Patrick’s Center always have people milling about.

I have to say that I agree with the thought that a community that has tent shelter is safer than little or no community living in an alcove of a building or behind a dumpster in the alley. In my three and a half years in the city, homelessness seems far more of a problem now than before. There are definitely more women and children on the streets now than there were three years ago.

Yet, I also realize that a tent city, subsidized or merely allowed to exist, could be seen as creating a new and different problem and that a more permanent solution needs to be created. I do, however, question the motives of some. I was told by a few of the residents that Lumiére Place Casino does not like them living so near for fear it will hurt business.

In January, 2011, the City of St. Louis established rules that allowed the residents of Hopeville to stay if they did not harm themselves or others or any property. The City banned “drugs, criminal activity and drunkenness.” (Aren’t these rules everywhere??) Propane cookers/heaters and safely contained fires could be used for cooking and heating. Now, we were told, there is a new eviction date – December 2011.

Is a Tent City the best place for these people to live? Well, surely no, one might immediately claim. Perhaps the reasoning would include that they do not own the property. Or that it is unsafe. Or that the winters are far too cold to thrive in a tent. Or maybe people are just idyllic and believe everyone should have a home. I can see the merit in all but I especially like that last one. I believe that also.

However, it is disingenuous to say that we contribute to the problem by allowing the people to live in tents in the city. Or that by giving people blankets and coats and food we compound the problem because it keeps them from going into the shelters where they would be better for them. I love it when we so easily determine what is best and better for other people. How kind of us!

We would like to think that everyone has a place to get out of the extreme weather and to be safe. We especially love the thought that if a person is homeless, they choose to be shelter-less – to live outside of the rules required to get inside the shelter. It is justified reasoning – the reason doesn’t have to be real; it only has to justify the actions…or non action.

Is Hopeville a place I would want to live? No, not really. But then, I can guaran-damn-tee that I would rather live in a tent behind the levee wall than to live in an alcove of a building in the middle of the city. I can also see a great deal of personal autonomy living in a community with community made rules rather than in a shelter run by people trying to do good by ensuring that others follow every rule.

Do-gooders are sometimes the bane of a good deed.

Meanwhile, as we have this discussion, there are people who do not qualify for one of the empty beds in the city shelters. Then there are people who do not wish to have one of the empty beds because they feel they are perfectly capable of providing that on their own. Regardless of those who want or don’t want one of the beds or whether those of us who have beds feel they are or are not worthy of said bed, the common statement I heard in Hopeville is the same one I hear from those who walk through the Cathedral…

…they all just want a job.

Falling Off of the Edge

2011-09-10T14:20:00.002-05:00

Homelessness is a problem in any big city in any given economic climate. When times get tough, homelessness gets worse. It’s a fact. Numbers are not needed to prove it; one only has to spend a little time to see it.

Saint Louis is no different.

When we think of homeless people, how many times do drugs and alcohol pop into our minds as the cause of homelessness? I cannot recall the number of times I have heard the statement that some people ‘choose to be homeless.’ It is easy to think that, I suppose. After all, what might the average person do to keep from being homeless? Surely I would never allow that to happen, right?

And then there are those pesky runaways. “Troubled” kids – that just means kids that cause trouble, to their parents, to the schools to the police.

Did you know that the National Network for Youth puts the number of “disconnect, unaccompanied and/or homeless youth in our country” at 2.5 million? That’s a whole lot of mothers’ babies all alone in this world doing whatever they have to do to survive. That’s two million five hundred thousand children and youth whose chances of being productive citizens in the future lessen dramatically every day they are disconnected, unaccompanied and/or homeless.

What if we thought about homelessness differently? What about these “excuses” for homelessness:

An abused woman with children running from a violent partner/spouse…

A recently discharged veteran, disabled, not yet receiving benefits…

A family living too close to the economic edge, falls off due to a crisis such as injury or sickness…

A senior citizen living on a fixed income that is far too fixed and no support system in place…

Children abused and/or neglected by parent/step-parent…

Children sexually abused by family member or family friend.

Uninsured, under-employed, have to choose between medicine and rent…or food and rent…or any number of other things and rent…

Me losing my job and my partner losing her job in the near future, times are tough, we are both in our 50’s…

All these explanations sound a lot more reasonable than someone choosing to be homeless. I have never heard a child answer, “a homeless person” when asked what she or he wants to be when they grow up.

The only thing separating me and “them” is a small puff of wind.

Working upstairs at the Episcopal Cathedral in downtown Saint Louis, I had forgotten the number of people who walk through the first floor hallways on a daily basis to get a drink of water, use the facilities, or just to sit in the Nave seeking a modicum of shelter from the streets. Back on the first floor now, I am only there a couple of weekdays each week now but I am still amazed at the people who come in seeking help.

Many are looking for “the lady in the bookstore.” That lady would be Debbie, my partner. Word on the street is that she will help with incidentals like snack foods, toiletries and sometimes socks and such. We have a small “emergency” closet church where we store pop-top foods, crackers, fruit cups/snacks, toothpaste and brushes, deodorant, etc. Being in the Bookstore on the ground floor of the Cathedral, she is often the first person that sees or is seen by those seeking help.

There was a woman and her little girl that came seeking help not long ago. Their time was up at New Life Evangelical Center, a non-profit church center downtown that provides help for those who are homeless. The woman and her child had been there as long as the rules allowed so they were on the streets. She was trying to get into one of the shelters for women and children but had been told by them that there was no room. She wanted a suitcase, pillows and shoes for her little girl. A call went out for help and three people promptly responded with the requested items.

A couple of weeks ago, as I walked from one office to the next, I saw a young couple standing in the hallway. They had a little boy with them. They were hot and sweaty, tired and looking lost. I asked if I could help them. They said they had been told to come to the church to find “the lady in the bookstore.”

The couple was from Colorado. Out of a job, his grandmother in Saint Louis County had bought them bus tickets to bring them to St. Louis so he could find a job. She told them they could live with her for two weeks. They had been there three weeks and at the end of that day, they had to leave her house. Their little baby was with her for the day. Hoping to find a place to stay for the night, they still had to return to pick up the baby.

At a board meeting the other day, I heard an oft repeated statement: there are plenty of beds for “the homeless” in Saint Louis. Well, that’s all good and fine if one is comforted by numbers. 200 homeless; 200 beds (small random number to show a point). Comforting, right?

No.

Because the fact is that just because the beds are there doesn’t mean that those who need them are allowed to sleep in them. There are rules and regulations deciding who can and who cannot use the different facilities.

Rules help keep community safe. But it is a fact: the street is not a safe place for women and children.

To stay in many of the shelters, one must have proof of identity. There is also the residency restriction. One must be able to prove they are a legal resident of Saint Louis to stay in a homeless shelter in Saint Louis. If a couple wants to stay together, it won’t be possible in most places. If a father wants to stay with his wife and children, it isn’t possible. If a woman and her children just lost their home but are not actually abused and running scared, it is far more difficult for them to find those elusive beds.

These are just a few of the details of why those beds are not filled at night but the nooks and crannies of the streets are.

This is just the beginning, I think, of things I have to write about this subject. We have a problem and somehow we have to figure out what needs to be done.

While talking to the people who THINK they understand the problem is an important part of understanding, talking to the people who are actually living within the problem, hearing the whys and hows of what brought them to the point and what they believe will help them – that is where we have to get serious. There has to be the recognition that those who are without a “home” to live in are no different than you or me. They are people who found themselves, suddenly or otherwise, without the basic need of shelter. We cannot superimpose our perceived understanding as a solution.

Just as with any alleged problem, the solution is often a state of mind. Even more often, the solution to the problem often involves simply removing the offending sight from the eyes of the offended.

Out of sight; out of mind. That type of solution has to eliminated.

Lavish, Economy, Radical = Love

2011-08-29T08:59:00.003-05:00

Market personified

I shudder hearing the market made into a person, aka "We will see if the markets like (don't like) the latest news" or "How will the market react?" It as if we have bowed down and offered our destiny and our serenity to the "market."

The market does serve very useful functions. It creates wealth and capital, funds retirement plans etc.... However it is a man-made creation and as such is fallible. Period. It is not a person. It is certainly not God. It is not a relationship. It is not love, or connection. It is a man-made creation and as such is fallible.

Chuck Blair

I get a “daily communique” every morning from Emergent Village which “is a growing, generative friendship among missional Christians seeking to love our world in the Spirit of Jesus Christ.” In our ever growing economic catastrophe, this one seemed relevant to many recent conversations.

Strangely, their statement of intent seems oxymoronic to much of what is ongoing today. Many people talk about “mission.” More talk about money…or rather, the lack of it.

I told someone the other day – actually, I told several someones because I was fairly irritated – that I have never been in a parish that didn’t have money problems…AND I have never been in any parish that walked fully in faith.

I am quite clear about the need for money in this world we live in today. I am facing my own possible financial crisis in its ugly face as I write.

I know that salaries have to be paid, clergy pension funds filled, health insurance premiums met and then there are those pesky little things like electric, water and gas. Then there is the monster so many live with, the huge, antiquated buildings that require constant maintenance at normally high prices.

So what difference would it make to a parish assembled for worship if there was no water? Or lights other than candles? Or heat or cool? Or for that matter…clergy?

Yes, there would be many who would complain. But would it prevent the Holy Spirit from being present? Would it change the liturgy? Would fewer voices be raised in song?

In fact, with no utilities, there might be no need for a stewardship committee. Rather than a bunch of people getting up in front of the gathered and telling their personal stories of why they give, the need would already be evident.

Or, if some of the money saved from paying the numerous bills that so often seem antithetical to the idea of a faith experience were to be set aside for when that young couple with the two little children looking for work and a safe place to lay their head for the night…something right about here comes to mind to remind me about strangers…welcoming…if someone asks for your cloak give them your shirt as well…

Somehow suggesting that they walk on over to New Life Evangelistic Center just doesn’t taste the same in my mouth.

Money. It’s all about money.

We talk about God and bow down under the burden of money.

So many predict that the “church” is dying. In many cases, that is a hard point to argue.

We talk about what we can lop off with as little damage as possible so that the body doesn’t bleed to death. Yet how long can the body last with only a head?

The adage says that the road to hell is paved with good intentions. Thinking of the church as a business is a good intention. But is it? Can it be a business? Can we continue to think first in terms of break down, get rid of, unnecessary, not needed, not breaking even…Free.

This thing that we do is not free. It costs but those costs are not necessarily in dollars. The gospel on Sunday, August 28 was about picking up the cross and following Jesus. That is not a burden. That is the way to life. But when we pick up that cross and follow, other things have to be set down. I think worrying about money is one of those things that has to be set down.

I had the great privilege of watching faith in action this weekend. I spent time with Becca Stevens and two women, Katrina and Sheila, of the community of Magdalene and Thistle Farms. If you do not know of the Rev. Becca Stevens or the Women of Magdalene, I urge you to do so. They are phenomenal gifts from God just waiting to share their love and life with all who are looking for a chance to dance a new dance.

Here are some of the things I brought home with me.

To heal it we have to first deal with it. – name it and own it.

We are called to get our hands dirty. – we cannot dictate from on high, we have to be involved.

We are not called to change the world; we are called to love the world. – with our love, change is brought about. If we try to change things, we have a tendency to dictate what change is needed. We don’t often really know what that is.

Love heals. It is lavish, economical and it is radical. AND it will always bear fruit.

To worry is a waste of time. We cannot get weary – take a little time to rest and then go do good, do more rather than less. There is no time to be tired and no time to worry.

We need to stand on new ground, understanding that it is Holy.

Little girls do not dream of being prostitutes, addicts or being victims of rape.

“You can’t be willing to die for something if you are not willing to live for it.”

Worthiness is another word Becca used. We gauge UNworthiness on a daily basis. Is that person worthy of a handout? ‘He/she will probably just use it for drugs or cigarettes or booze.’ Boom. Unworthy. ‘They will just sell their bus passes for drugs or cigarettes or booze.’ Boom. Unworthy. ‘We don’t give them money when they come into our building because they can get what they need from other places in town that are in that business.’ Boom. Unworthy.

Determining UNworthiness is just not our job. Declaring all people as children of God worthy is.

Nowhere in any of Becca’s, Katrina’s or Sheila’s talk, was the matter of money discussed in relationship to worthiness. Rather, they spoke of Lavish, Lavish love. It costs nothing to manufacture. It is brand new every time it is given away. It is radical because it goes to the very root of Scripture – Love one another. Help one another. Don’t give leftovers – give what is on your back, give new, they said. Because everyone is worthy of that.

A woman or girl child on the streets is in serious danger of being raped, not once or twice but repeatedly. It doesn’t matter if a man is with them or not. They are in danger.

The questions we have to ponder seriously and intentionally are what are we spending money on? If it is not lavish, economical and Radical, maybe we need to cut it out.

It is the Journey

2011-08-22T11:56:00.001-05:00

Occasionally, quite often, actually, I read something and think, “That is exactly how I feel; I wish I had written that.”

While that may be placed in the category of coveting…not sure about that…it is exactly what I thought when I read Sr. Joan Chittister’s newsletter Vision and Viewpoints. The article is titled, “Too Late?”

“There is no such thing as coming too late to God. All the way to God is the Way.

Clearly, we cannot lose God; we can only prepare ourselves to come to see the face of the eternal and ever immediate God in everything. How long will that take? What difference does it make? The God we find when we do will be the same God however long that takes, whenever it happens. It is the journey, not the end, that counts.”

– from The Breath of the Soul: Reflections on Prayer by Joan Chittister (Twenty-Third Publications)

How many times have I thought I came to this place of answering God’s call to me too late? How many times have I ventured into that dark place where I wished I had continued my conversation with God that I began at a very early age? How I have so often lamented the fact that I ran and hid myself (or so I thought) during my teens and twenties!

I returned to “church” in my early thirties. I say “returned” meaning, I began attending occasionally. I felt the tug to be in community, to be a part of Something when I was in my twenties. I even tried to attend but it was difficult. Everyone was so old and so cold. It wasn’t the way I remembered feeling as a child in the Southern Baptist rural community church setting. So I decided I was just past that stage of church life. Or not yet there.

As I entered the beginning of my thirties, my daughter was baptized. It was a turning point in my life. There were so many such points afterwards.

Yet all along the way, I grappled with the sense of too late, wrong way, too long on pause, too long running away. It seems to be an underlying current that runs within me. What causes it is the unrest that comes from knowing that although I was called early, the church was not ready for me. Now that I am older, I am not sure the church knows what to do with me.

Due to fact that I am far closer to 60 than to 30 and in a church that is actively trying to find ways to recruit younger people, have I waited too late? Is the end near and I still have no answers?

So it is with those thoughts and feelings that I read Sr. Joan this morning.

It doesn’t matter…not really…how long ago I was called, how long I waited or ran away, not even how much I want to just be on the Way. It matters only that I am.

God continues to be God. My way on the journey continues to create stories that others need to hear. The end does not matter. God continues to be with me as I journey. And as Sr. Joan writes, “It is the journey, not the end, that counts.”

"Saint Louis is SO Gay!" reads the new PROMO tee shirt.

2011-08-17T14:50:00.002-05:00

http://www.thevitalvoice.com/lifestyle/57-lifestyle/333-promo-unveils-new-tee

And it is…So much so that one can get really comfortable living here. We have lived in two neighborhoods in the three and a half years we have been here; we have never been the only same sex couple living on the block. We have visited numerous Episcopal parishes in the half of the state of Missouri (geographical boundaries of the Episcopal Diocese of Missouri) and have yet to see any type of bias exhibited against us. In fact, many of the parishes are openly welcoming by being Oasis Parishes and/or Integrity Proud Parish Partners. (http://www.theoasismissouri.org/ & http://www.integrityusa.org)

Saint Louis City has had a domestic partnership law since 1997 (pro, not anti). Domestic partnerships registered in other cities are considered valid here when one files a certified copy of the registration with the City Register.

It is easy to forget that people across the globe are discriminated against, beaten, and murdered simply because they are LGBT. It is easy to go to work or home, go to a restaurant or bar, enjoy the company of friends and only fleetingly, if ever, think of those just outside of the city limits who do not do these things, simply because they are not allowed to do so, at least not openly.

But there are those who do not allow us to get too comfortable in our forgetfulness, people right here in this comfortably LGBT city who let us know every day that everything is not all right.It is not alright until it is all right and just. Missouri continues to be a very homophobic state with laws that do not protect its gay, lesbian, bisexual or transgender citizens.

PROMO is one of those groups, working for change at the state legislative level and on the home front also. Human Rights Campaign St Louis is another. The work that is being done with Growing American Youth is nothing less than phenomenal. Bus # 10 will take off for Iowa on August 26 in the ShowMeNoH8 Show Me Marriage Equality so that the next group of couples can be legally wed. The LGBT Center of St. Louis recently opened its doors at a new location offering an information center and safe refuge to any and all.

Saint Louis is so gay! BUT there is still so much work to do…here and everywhere else. Even though we are fairly comfortable here, it is good to see all the work being done to promote equality for all.

Please, visit these sites. Check out what is happening in St. Louis. You can find out how to get one of the tee shirts on the link provided under the picture In this city known for its poverty, racial tensions and crime rates, it is very good to be in the top 10 of something good!

Dogs and God's Will

2011-08-14T07:42:00.001-05:00

My times are in your hands…” regardless

(Psalm 31:15)

I can think of nothing else that fits more clearly where I am in this journey. All along I have thought I was following “God’s will”…at least in my prayers, I continued to ask God to guide me. All I wanted was to do what I thought God was calling me to do.

One of the things I was told while in discernment, both initially with my spiritual director and later with my discernment committee, was to listen to the voice of the community. That voice was a primary factor in us leaving Fort Worth. That voice said we want you as a priest. We believe God is calling you to be a priest.

After a year in Saint Louis, living and working within a divided community as the director of Christian Education for youth and children, again, I heard those same words.

Our “home” parish in Fort Worth, St. Stephen’s in Hurst, has a long history of controversies and splits. So also our much loved second home, Christ the King. It doesn’t take the “gay agenda” to send anyone into a frenzy. Frenzies happen anywhere there are two or more gathered together, in God’s name or otherwise. So, Christ Church Cathedral was no different. Parishes live on the edge of divide constantly. It is rarely one thing; ten other controversies hover at any given moment.

But having come into the Episcopal Church during all the different but constant stream of differences, there has always been one idea in my heart – We are one in the body of Christ regardless of where our minds are. There are always opportunities to gather people into that body and remind them that is exactly what they are, the body of Christ.

So, I sit in the midst of a bit of confusion for this time. Part of the confusion rests with my discernment committee, which often felt as though I was on trial and they the judge rather than in the midst of a discernment which needed the whole of us to work together to discern God's will. They ended up split: two believed priesthood, two diaconate (with lots of accolades for my lay ministry).

Another part comes from the Commission on Ministry. I know that they did not appreciate my answer regarding finances. To the question: ‘Have you thought about the expense of going to seminary should it be determined that you are to go on,’ I answered, “yes I have thought of it but I have come too far trusting that God will give us what we need as we need it to start worrying now about that.”

I was told that another concern they had was my age – how old I would be after going to seminary, if need be. I am not sure what to do with that concern, especially in light of the fact that others have been, are being ordained at ages older than my own. Considering the fact that I already have a Master of Theological Studies, half, at least, of any seminary education is complete. That’s two years less anyone might worry their ‘pretty little head about.’ (a quote from the Congressman Jim Wright when I asked him a question long ago)

I am sure that COM had other concerns but these are the two that were given me.

Two things I know for sure: I will grow older…unless I die and I cannot begin to worry about building up treasures for anything…not even this. My treasures are far too many now. I continue to work at getting rid of these, not acquiring more.

But I also know one other thing. The Canaanite woman in today's Gospel knew what so many did not. Jesus listened to her because he had no choice; her faith was bigger than his opinion. She knew that he did not have to like her, nor did he have to believe her worthy. It didn’t matter that he thought her on the level of a “dog” or that he believed what desire he might grant her would be better served going to one of the chosen ones. (Matthew 15:21-28)

She believed in him. And he realized it. And it was enough to make him realize he was wrong. It was enough.

Just as her times were in the hand of Jesus, so also are mine. I have held back for three years now. I have held myself in check because I didn’t want to offend anyone with my “radical” thoughts or words. I want to return to my “root”.

I have served myself… and God…unwisely. Writing has always been an outlet, a way to process, a way to share what I feel inside. It is one way that the Spirit speaks to me. Worried more about what others might think, I shoved aside my gifts, concerned that these might be seen as too forward or as an annoyance.

I don’t know what I will do about discernment. I was not told no, merely to wait a little bit. COM heard a call to ministry; they just didn’t hear to which ministry. But the two things won’t change.

But I can. I can return to that root. I can also rest assured that, just as Merton prayed so also can I. By the very fact that I want to do God’s will, God must be pleased. Therefore, I will continue trying to do that very thing.

It is enough.

Reflections

2011-06-19T07:44:00.000-05:00

A repeat from some years past. Today is Father's Day and we were supposed to be in Texas. Due to some scheduling conflicts, that was postponed for one week. So, here I am again, from a distance, wishing Daddy Happy Father's Day.

I love you, Pop!

Barbi

Reflections on a Father's Day in 1998

B. G. Click

My small neck angled backwards to see what blocked the sun.

It was you, looming protectively like a darkened guardian angel.

Fat feet on your shadow, in frenzied pursuit behind,

I tried to keep up with you, just to be a part of that bigness.

Skinny arms raised in hope, eager to be swung above your head

I knew you were Hercules, conquering a dozen labors.

Child heart brimming with pride, anxious for your approval,

I struggled to live up to what I thought were your dreams for me.

Untrained mind ever questioning all mysteries of the universe --

except one - I knew you loved me even when I didn't need it.

A Notch on My Belt

2011-06-04T18:52:00.003-05:00

When I was in the midst of my parish discernment committee, one of the members, the only other woman in the group, noted that perhaps I wasn’t called to ordained ministry at all. Instead, perhaps, I was merely “seeking another notch on your belt”.

Just as Paul told the church in Corinth that women should be silent in church, be subordinate in all things, the woman’s statement about the notch speaks loudly as to what it does not say.

Why would Paul tell women they should be silent? They must have been creating quite a ruckus for him to have had to write a letter from so far away telling them to shush it. Or rather, what the heck did Paul mean in 1 Corinthians 14:36? That, too, speaks volumes in what it doesn’t say. But I digress.

So what had I done in my past that made this woman feel I was seeking yet another “notch” on my belt? In many circles a “notch on the belt” means that one has scored a sexual triumph. I am sure that this woman more sincerely meant that I had past successes or achievements; nonetheless…

Considering the fact that I am 57 years old, have worked possibly 15 years of that time as a paid employee, regardless of the fact that I have two degrees, three, actually when one includes the associate’s, I have attained no great heights of success, at least not from our present cultural connotations of success. I am not financially successful, although I owe relatively little in relation to my income. I have no insurance (other than full comprehensive for my vehicle). My retirement plan reflects (foolishly, according to many) my financial plan of the moment, which is, if the need is there, God will provide. Yet, I have far more than enough. My assets outweigh my liabilities by a good piece.

However, to our culture, secular and in many cases, the church, I have failed to take care of myself. Worse yet, if I am wrong about God, then that society of which I am a part will be forced to take care of me. Grudgingly so, as far as the current political scene is concerned.

One can imagine the concern of the ministry commission when asked about my finances and my reply was, “I have come thus far trusting that God will provide as needed. I cannot stop doing so now.”

I can say I have and will continue to be a fool for Christ.

I will be foolish yet once more and proclaim that as long as we measure success in material things, we cannot continue to aver that the orders of ministry are full and equal orders and we will continue to have problems discerning the difference between lay, deacon and priest.

We can loudly protest that happiness is not measured in big houses, nice cars and big parishes and isn’t it nice that poor people can sing so loudly and joyfully in their churches but as we sit in our air-conditioned homes and drive our fossil fuel driven vehicles and seek status and privilege through our employment, we will continue to live within one very large lie.

We should be able to be joyful in our poverty yet, that is easy to say it and much more difficult to live it and be the “fool for Christ”.

I will go one step beyond and say that as long as ordinands to the diaconate have far less education to achieve, no GOE requirements and few or no prospects of being employed (that means paid, not used) by the parish they serve, the church will continue to have a mis-understanding of full and equal. As long as we live in a culture that says more is more and the church adheres to that idea (more education, set salary for priests; less education, no wage for deacons), there is no full and equal. As long as it takes money to be a priest or the willingness to put oneself in deep debt, we will not live into the idea of a radical priesthood. We are just too human to make it so. “Radical” becomes a four letter word.

One cannot desire or even perceive of one more “notch” on a belt of life when seeking to follow God in discerning our role to the people of God.

Either we are seeking God or we are serving a lesser god.

Let’s call it what it is.

A New Name

2011-04-02T08:47:00.004-05:00

Words have always been my friend, my companion when things got tough. I could write my thoughts and come into a clearer understanding of what was going on, how I felt and what I should do. But now, I seem to have nothing. No words.

Well, of course, there are words. The ones above are an example. I guess what I am saying is that over the past year or so, I don't like the words that come to me as I try to process. They feel empty, unimportant, with absolutely nothing solved. I remain in the same quandary in which I began.

I have spent a good part of the past ten years processing my thoughts and feeling by writing about the Episcopal Church, LGBT issues, bishops whose thoughts differ widely from my own. But many of those things have changed. If nothing else, I have changed.

I don't want to complain about the church anymore or who can or can’t be a part of it. I have no more idea what to do to make it better than anyone else. Besides, the best I can tell, it's better than a lot. Not perfect, but then it never will be. It's full of humans. A couple of thing I know…I am an Episcopalian and I believe that growth cannot be our primary concern.

I don't want to complain about LGBT issues anymore. Plus there are others who are far more up to date and able to debate the issues, both within the Episcopal Church, other denominations and in secular organizations. And I might add, they are doing a wonderful job.

And there are just so many other problems in the world. It is really difficult to focus on one. Just a small few of these...

budgets that feed the rich and further starve the poor…

a world out of balance environmentally, literally and figuratively...

violence which some feel can only be solved by more guns, more death, more prisons all the while screaming against abortion while showing large pictures of fetuses cut into pieces...

all the boys and girls who have been promised a job and an education if they will fight an unjust war in a foreign country so that we can play like we are safe here in the US. Oh, and oh yeah…the war…

Where does one begin? It is paralyzing.

And then there is God. What a joker! Or wrestler. Not sure which at this point. I vacillate between standing in confusion, scratching my head, feeling a bit silly for having come this far with so few directions up such a strange lane or feeling as though I have just been thrown to the ground and am now in a hammerlock. Either way, both feelings are debilitating to a degree.

To say I have been paralyzed is to tell only a part of the story. I have been rendered immobile with no ability to process.

So, imagine my delight when I found a new blog, new to me at least. It’s named Dirty Sexy Ministry. The name itself made me smile. One post resonated clearly, Disguised Blessings. It was particularly thought provoking.

The post made me re-remember that I know eventually I will come out of the other side of this thing and say "Aha!" as I nod slowly in appreciation for the understanding that what felt like an adversity was actually a blessing well disguised. Forget the fact that it was disguised in a bunch of what felt and looked like wadded up, wrinkled wrapping wet from whatever icky trash was tossed upon it before being pulled from the bottom of the waste basket. A blessing is a blessing. Thanks be to God.

I know I have been taking on a great many worries and concerns that do not belong to me -- right NOW, later maybe but now NOW -- I try to set these aside but they wash over me at unexpected moments in the middle of the night, in the midst of a prayer...even after offering a sermon, overwhelming me with joy and anxiety at the same moment.

So I suppose what this is not is the ravings of a mad woman (God knows I have wondered). Instead, I am merely involved in a struggle with what feels like the demons of the world rather than an angel of the Lord. I do believe there are demons of the world, however, I am fully aware that the process of understanding God's will for us almost always runs contrary to our culture's idea of ease and comfort therefore feels more like an affliction than a blessing.

I am not sure enough to tell the angel this but if it be demons, I say, Bring it on! Regardless of how well disguised it might be, I know who has my back.

If it’s an angel of the Lord, well, maybe it’s time for me to have a new name...regardless if it transforms me even more.

Talking with Jesus

2011-03-15T19:00:00.003-05:00

I know many people who have terrible things going on in their lives right now. Enough so, I feel fairly childish, churlish, petty and whatever other word might fit. Nonetheless, today, I miss the set of kids that just left to return home to Texas…which makes me miss all the family that wasn’t here. On top of that, it was just a crappy day. Perhaps it was a crappy day because of my attitude. Regardless, it sucked. Mean people always suck. People who make judgments based on what people say who are trying to cover their own asses suck just as much.

So, what do I do when I am missing kids, parents, Texas, sunshine, nice people and all that? I turn to Willie. Or Randy. And I listen to them sing gospel music. Deep roots. (for those who might not know – Willie Nelson and Randy Travis)

It all makes me feel better. Listening to Willie sing “Sometimes my path grows drear without a ray of cheer and then a cloud of doubt may hide the day. The mists of sin may rise and hide the starry skies but just a little talk with Jesus clears the way.” Because listening to this, I remember that Jesus loves me regardless of anything else in this world.

Regardless of my own sin that causes me to be petty or childish; regardless of how narrow other people see the world; regardless of all the disasters going on in people’s lives and the world, Jesus is still here.

“I may have doubts and fears my eyes be filled with tears, but Jesus is a friend who watches day and night.”

It may not be very deep theologically, but I don’t care right now. It’s all I need at this time. It reminds me that I am a feather on the breath of God and that the hot air that blows around me is not that breath and if I am still, I will know the difference.

Serving My “Civic” Duty with a Hermeneutic Of Suspicion

2011-01-20T10:19:00.003-06:00

A disclaimer: I know that there are many who believe that it is a good and right thing to be called to jury duty. I do not deny that. I do not wish to contradict that. The following is merely my observations and thoughts after spending two days within the judicial courts system.

Jury duty is touted as our civic duty – the responsibility to serve on a jury where another is being tried by that jury of his/her “peers”. Civic duty is, of course, our responsibilities as a citizen of our state and country. A peer is one with whom we share equal standing as in rank, class or age. That in itself is rather funny since the U.S. has always claimed to be a classless society. Let’s forget the fact that I am denied quite a few rights because of my perceived “life style”. Let’s just look at the idea of civic responsibility to serve on a jury.

Ccalled to appear on January 18 to serve on a “petit jury” at the Civil Courts Building in downtown Saint Louis, I diligently showed up at a few moments before the required 8:00 a.m. There was plenty of time to go through security, find the Jury Assembly Room, check in with the court clerk and squish into a seat in a very crowded room between two people who clearly left that space between them purposely.

I read the little handbook explaining all the things that would happen and how these events would unfold. I read about my civic duty and how fortunate I was to be called. I was being called into action to serve with my peers to keep justice in the forefront. We were there to keep the lawyers and judges just. On the walls around the room there were posters to substantiate the message of the booklet. Heady stuff.

All of this might ring a bit more true were it not for the fact that had I failed to show up for court or if I walked out at any given moment, I would be held in contempt of court punishable by fine and/or imprisonment. Suddenly I would have need of a jury to uphold justice for me.

A woman came on the loud speaker telling us, just in case we had not read the booklet, about the day(s). She thanked us for being there, told us again of our duty as citizens and tried to make us feel that all of the time spent would be rewarded by the idea that we were full citizens in a country that trusted our ability to form opinions. Oh, and don’t forget the $12 per day check we would receive!

She went on to let us know that if we had an “extreme” hardship that kept us from being able to serve, please come to the front desk to talk to the person there. And please, understand that loss of wages at a job that does not pay while one is on jury duty does not count as “extreme” hardship. It is our civic duty to suffer hardship for our state and country. Forget rent that needs to be paid; never mind about the electric bill. Tell the landlord and Ameren UE (electric company) that jury duty is far more important.

I, thankfully, have a justice minded board of directors along with a great boss who made certain that I lost no wages because of my civic duty begin served. Through the course of the day, I spoke with many who were not that fortunate and would suffer the consequences later in the week.

She also told us that there was a mezzanine on the floor above with vending machines and tables. A surprisingly few people took up the offer to leave the crowded room. I bolted up the stairs and found a nice table near the window.

There was something very surreal about sitting around all day waiting for my number to be called. There were hundreds of us there. At the sound of the intercom, all talking would cease. Or if one or two remained on the phone or created noise that interfered with the faceless voice, those listening expectantly threw glares at the offenders.

People sat with eyes closed or staring at a fixed point, heads cocked, ears tuned, listening intently for the one number that mattered. The speaker ceased calling the dozen or so numbers and a sense of normalcy returned to the room. Conversations were picked up where these had been dropped.

I sat a table with three other women. We knew that if we were not called on the first day, we would have to return the next morning. It took five rounds of numbers before my personal number was called. I was so used to it by that time; my comrades were the ones who caught it.

The weirdness if the situation returned as I told them goodbye. I felt a combined relief at a change in the game and a dread of what would come next.

Those of us called in the that round found our way to the front desk on the first floor where we were told to sit in the next to last row of a group of pews already filled to near capacity. Role was checked to make certain that those called were actually there. Six more jurors were needed to round out the required number.

We were once again thanked for attending to our civic duty and with paperwork done, we were told to follow the officer where he led us.

Following the officer down the stairs in single-file form, we passed signs warning us to remain quiet, no talking, no food, no drinks allowed. As I was near the end of the line, each time the line stopped for a few minutes, the cause was unknown. The sense of strangeness only increased because we were in a hallway and unable to see. Finally to a point of sight, it became clear that we were being herded onto an elevator. Eight people at a time. Another officer waited on the elevator. The other one counted us off: “1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, wait right here” as he pointed for the next number 1 to stay outside of the elevator.

We rode up in silence to the 5^th floor. The officer in the elevator told us the division number and our judge’s name. She told us we would get off the elevator and await further instructions.

Throughout this procedure, I could not help but think of those before us who had been herded quietly into the unknown, in a single-file line with little chance to alter the course of events. Had I been one to panic at such scary thoughts, this would have been the time to do so. Thankfully, I held my calm.

We all wandered off the elevator and I, for one, was rather glad to see the unknown faces I had seen downstairs. There was no one at that moment waiting to tell us what to do or where to go so we aimlessly sat, leaned against the wall or paced uncertainly. It is rather amazing how quickly we can fall into a pattern of blind obedience.

After what seemed like a long time but was really only about ten minutes, an officer opened the door of the jury room and called in those assigned to the division number and judge. Within a few moments, role was once again called (in case one or two lost their way or bolted) and we were told where to sit. We were also alerted that this seat would be ours until jury selection was made. Looking up, I noticed that some of the light fixtures were in the style of the Scales of Justice.

Another five or ten minutes passed and a buzzer sounded. The officer called out, “All rise!” And we did.

The judge came in and we were told to be seated. He then began to explain the proceedings for the day. Again, he gave the now recognized spiel about our civic duty and how justice is only served when we are tried by a jury of our peers. The lawyers put forth evidence, the judge judges but the jury follows the letter of the law to decide beyond a reasonable doubt if the defendant is indeed guilty. And please do not forget that the burden of proof lies with the State to prove that the defendant is guilty because, as we all know, the one arrested, handcuffed and taken into custody until bail is set is innocent until proven guilty by a jury of his or her peers a year or so later (one year in this particular case). He told us the charges against the defendant (possession of a controlled substance) and reminded us that the only way we could give a verdict of guilty was in the event that the State offers evidence that convinces us “beyond a reasonable doubt” that the defendant is indeed guilty.

Then the fun began. Timeline review: checked in at 8 a.m., called to the jury assembly room around 2 p.m.( after 1 ½ hour lunch), sitting in the courtroom with the prosecuting attorney readying herself to begin questions at 3:15 p.m. The prosecuting attorney began polling the jury pool.

Law shows on television are obviously very popular. The reality of the courtroom can only be described as tedious, at least the reality of the courtroom as I saw it.

Obviously, the State’s evidence was tied up primarily in the testimony of two police officers and one analyst who ran the tests on the controlled substance because most of the questions were targeted at finding whether or not we, as individuals, could and would make a decision of belief based upon that testimony alone.

By four o’clock, my butt was numb and my brain was even more so. I felt trapped within a tedium that seemed interminable. Those who lifted their hands to answer questions were almost comical…at first. There was one I called “Jeremiah Johnson” who at each question would proclaim in a loud, booming voice, “Judge NOT, lest ye yeselves be judged!” Then there was the young woman behind me who was a waitress in a bar who answered, “well, you know, it’s like…well, I know both sides…they come into the bar and you know, I see, well, I see them acting like, you know…I am sorry, I don’t mean to be rude but you know, it’s just that, well, I see both sides and I, uh, just don’t know if I can be, well, you know, fair, because, you know, it’s just that, well, I see both sides…you know?”

Then there were the unending side bars. Does anyone realize the control that a Court Reporter has on a court? Nothing moves, no word is heard until she is in place and gives the nod to resume.

The judge finally called for a recess at 4:45 p.m. We were to show up the next morning at 9 a.m. and we were to be on time because to not be so would waste the time of the court and all present.

I can go on, but I would become as repetitious as the court itself. The basic point is this: I did not want to be there. I do not believe it is my civic duty to perform a duty at the threat of being incarcerated or fined if I do not perform that duty. I do not believe that drug possession should be a punishable offense nor do I believe that drug addictions will be cured or lessened by prosecuting those addicts.

Nonetheless, I do believe that I would have been as fair and impartial as possible regardless of the fact that I know of numerous instances of police harassment and unfair verdicts in court situations; in spite of the fact that I believe that racial profiling occurs often and the law is skewed in favor of those who have and against those who have not. Despite that, I would have tried to set these thoughts aside to listen to the evidence. After all, the burden of proof is always on the State to prove guilt beyond a reasonable doubt, right?

What got me cut from the pool of jurors? When I finally had to hold up my hand to answer a question because to not do so would have had me sitting in willful silence, the lawyer answered my statement with, “So, are you saying that you could not be 100% impartial to the testimony of the police officers?” I answered, “Are you asking me if I would believe them simply because they are police officers?” She stated, “I am asking if you can be impartial because they are police officers.” I answered, “I can say to you that I will put forth a 100% effort to be fair and open to the evidence.” She again asked, “Does this mean that you cannot be 100% sure that you will be unbiased?” I answered, “I will always use a hermeneutic of suspicion in listening to any evidence put forth by the defense or the State.” She answered, “Thank you.”

I was cut in the next go round.

Preached at St. Paul's, Carondolet on November 28, 2010. The Gospel text was Luke 7:28-35

2010-12-07T07:36:00.002-06:00

“The Pharisees and lawyers rejected God’s purpose for themselves.”

That phrase leapt out at me.

I can just imagine the confusion the Pharisees and lawyers must have felt. What was Jesus talking about? They were following the letter of the Law – something they had studied all their lives.

Perhaps it impressed me simply because I am in the midst of reading Desmond and Mpho Tutu’s new book, Made for Goodness. For whatever reason, it is an age old quandary – why am I here? What is my purpose?

It is easy to get lost in all the information available – both then and now. The Pharisees thought they were doing what God intended for them to do. Here Jesus was talking about being baptized. What difference did that make to these men of the Law? It is so difficult to wrestle with the idea of what is known and that which is unknown.

In a world where there are so many unknowns, we reject the idea that God created us in goodness, for goodness – the point of the Tutus’ book.

Maybe that idea is just too simple to grasp.

St. Augustine wrote that our hearts are restless until they find their rest in God. But what does that mean? How do we find rest in this rush, rush world? Especially at this time of year? For that matter, how do we find God?

We hunger; we crave…something. This hunger eats away at us daily; causes us to seek and to sate that craving with things that take us so far away from the ideas of goodness and God’s purpose for us.

God blew breath into the first human – ruach – the breath of God.

God made those first humans and said, “It is very good.” Not just Good. Just good was for all the other aspects of creation. For the humans, God said it is VERY good.

We are made by God, for God, in goodness, for goodness.

It’s not that we SHOULD be good…it’s that we ARE good.

God said so. And that lives within us each moment of every day.

Yet even with that, the things that people fear most are alienation, separation…of being cast aside. We want to belong so badly that we seek out those things we that cause us to stray so far away from God’s purpose for us. Our lives are too often centered on trying to belong and … then, conversely, trying to run away. We want to be a part of things but when things get complicated we adopt the ‘fight or flight’ stance. We either join in some sort of fight… or we run away.

Yet if God created us all with the same goodness and if we are all called to love one another, then there has to be an understanding that we need one another

– every last one of us needs every last one of us, the first, the last and the most, the least – regardless of how complicated relationships make our lives.

Recently, four of the world’s religious leaders, including the Dalai Lama and our own Presiding Bishop, Katharine Jefferts Schori, met at Emory University in Atlanta. One of the leaders, Lord Jonathan Sacks, Britain’s chief Rabbi stated that spiritual happiness is the “greatest source of renewable energy that we have.”

Spiritual Happiness...Greatest source of renewable energy.

As an environmentalist, this is a profound statement to me.

All the leaders agreed that the more we give, the happier we are. My grandmother used to say that the more we give away, the more that comes back to us.

If we do need one another, if that is the way that God created us and if God’s purpose for us is goodness, made in goodness for the sake of goodness, then I think it is safe to assume that the answer to the question of God’s purpose for us is fairly clear.

Do good. Not for ourselves…but for others. Do good.

We reject God’s purpose for us when we put our needs above the needs of others or when we make ourselves the center of things. And it’s easy to make ourselves the center of attention – one way is to take on too much – to be in charge of this or that. To have to control so many things.

We live in an I, Me, Mine culture which promotes the idea that the individual is far more important than the whole…and that we actually have some right that others should cater to our … quirks. It keeps us from seeing very far from our own center point of being – rather than being centered in God, we center ourselves on ourselves. Not very stable. Mainly, it keeps us centered on that which we know.

The unknown scares the living daylights out of us. It scares us into a stubborn ignorance.

That is basically what the Pharisee’s and the lawyers did: John & Jesus, young men, newcomers telling the same story with a very different spin on it. How could they possible know all that these wise, learned men know, these men who had dedicated their lives to study the Law?

But John and Jesus did. They knew God’s purpose for themselves and they knew that it was to do good for others.

Advent is a time of meditation and reflection while awaiting the coming of something so spectacular and phenomenal that it alters our lives forever. It is a time where all creation is reconciling itself to God.

On this 2^nd Sunday in Advent, this Scripture reading from Luke calls us into a no uncertain recognition of God’s purpose for us -- reconciliation – with one another, this creation and with God.

When we reconcile ourselves to one another and to this great creation, we reconcile ourselves to God.

The only unknown in this is just to what extent will our lives be transformed.

Jesus, remember me

2010-11-24T12:05:00.005-06:00

Our provost, Mike Kinman, offered a reflection on Sunday, November 21, the last Sunday after Pentecost. It reflected upon the request by the one criminal who asked, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.’ Mike painted a picture of what it means to be remembered.

The picture that came first into my mind was, of course, of my family. My memories of this particular holiday are full of fabulous, my grandparents, parents, cousins, aunts and uncles, children, the smells as we walked into the house, the noise of so many people talking at once, the laughter and the warmth. These memories give me such feeling of family and what I think it means.

But what is it for me to be remembered by another?

I know that during the day tomorrow, I will be remembered by several people. Probably the one who will remember me most is my mom. My daddy too. The kids at one time or another will think about me, especially my daughter and grandbabies. My sister will remember me. My grandmother also.

The funny things about it all – as my own memories of Thanksgiving’s past will in many ways mirror their own.

In some ways, it tears my heart, I miss them all so badly. In other ways, I know that I am doing what I am supposed to be doing. It doesn’t make it less painful, but it does make it a bit easier. To know that what I am doing now is important; that I am living a life that I believe I am called to live, it makes it easier.

But Lordy, I do miss my family!

So, tomorrow, as with every day, I am so thankful for so many things and so many people: Debbie, who has walked with me for this crazy journey and still loves me; Tucker, who has adapted as necessary to the craziness of our lives; Mom & Daddy, who love me unconditionally; for Amanda & Chris, who are taking care of business; Kyleigh, Kason, Caleb & Abby, who love me as only grandbabies can love a grandmother; for Josh & Karri and Matt who are my own even though others claim them; for my sister Jo who has been my best friend (and my best enemy in the past) and is always willing to support me; my sweet niece Tori and her beautiful baby girl; and I am thankful for my wonderful, resilient, awesome grandmother, Bula Bell Click, 97 years young.

And just a few other things for which I also give thanks: for our friends far away in other lands and our new friends here in Saint Louis, for this crazy Episcopal Church, especially the Diocese of Missouri and her bishop, for my job, especially the new part of it!!!!!, for our new home!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!, and for the opportunity to breathe and laugh every single day! I give thanks for this great Creator God who has made us for goodness. Most especially, I give thanks for hope.

May God bless each and every one of you and fill you with love, laughter and Joy! It is good to remember and to be remembered. In our memories, we will always be united.

"Increase our faith!"

2010-10-03T08:32:00.002-05:00

How did I go to church all those years in the past and walk away with nothing more than a feeling that I had done what I was supposed to do?

Maybe it was the Baptist preacher style of Repent and Be Saved that kept me from hearing fully! I already knew I was saved so I didn’t feel the need to repent. For as long as I can remember, I have felt God’s abiding grace and love for me. If I heard “Increase our faith” long ago, I must have thought that I already had enough. I don’t know. I just don’t remember being that affected.

Perhaps it is the state of the world today. Maybe it is just me being older, more mature. Again, I don’t know. But what I hear now is this: Change. Act. Transform. Share the message. Share the passion. Feed my people.

In today’s Gospel reading (Luke 17:5-10), Jesus tells us that if our faith was the size of a mustard seed, still, we could tell a tree to uproot itself and plant itself in the sea and it would do so.

Right now, I am fairly disheartened at the state of things. So many people out of work, so many new people living on the streets and in shelters. So many children diagnosed with ADD, autism and all manner of other disorders. So much pollution. So much terror. So much hate and fear surrounding all people gay or lesbian. So many children dying at their own hands due to the hate and fear surrounding them.

So many people who have lost…or maybe never had…that faith the size of an itsy-bitsy mustard seed.

I think that one of the things that I never heard in all those sermons in the past was that it might be hard to live a life that demands transformation (of self…not of others). It means living on the edge…living outside of what is considered “normal”. I give thanks to God that I have never considered myself normal.

Ellen DeGeneres made a statement the other day that one gay teen suicide is tragic, four (and now there are six we know of) is an epidemic. And I agree.

What are we feeding ourselves that six boys could take their own lives in one month’s time and we cannot see this as an epidemic…as something to which we should Act…Now. Each one of these boys belonged to some mother, father, sister, brother. Each one of these children was loved by their families. Each one of these boys took his life because he was being tormented by other children who feared him. Except, the fear was acted out in hate and bullying. It is difficult to see the torment as fear when it is directed at one person by several (or many).

The mustard seed passage goes on to say that we have a place in this life. It is to plow and tend the sheep and then come in from the field and take care of the master. It is our job. It is what we are supposed to do.

Literally, we may not have a field to plow or sheep to tend. Nor do we necessarily have a “master” to whom we are a slave. Yet if we want that power of faith…so powerful that even a tiny portion can change the nature of things as we know these…if we want that faith the size of a mustard seed, we have to understand that not only do we have to take care of our daily business but we also have to take care of the business of Jesus. That business is making sure that we don’t just cry into our computers or newspapers as we read a sad story but that we work at changing that which is bound in fear.

We have to make a difference. The only way we can do that is by speaking out against fear; standing up in faith; shouting out in Love.

Today is the only day we have. Tomorrow may be too late. Another child may have died simply because he did not hear our voice saying, “It will get better.”

It will get better…IF we do something to make it better.

Change the world. It’s what we are supposed to do.

Processing by Blogging

2010-09-08T14:45:00.000-05:00

We found a house that we really like. Of course, there are many houses in this city that we really like. The point is, we can actually afford this one.

It is huge, perfect for visiting guests, family, anyone who needs a place to sit and heal. Lots of room but homey.

We turned an offer in on it yesterday. But it was such a good buy, in size, price and location, we were not the only ones. As a result, we were outbid.

The good thing is that because of the belief that God is always working in our lives, I didn’t get my hopes way up there. We prayed that God would guide us in the right way and guard us from ourselves. Because of that prayer, I was not really worried. If we didn’t get it, then I was ready to believe that was just part of the big Plan. If we did get it, well, then, I was just as ready to believe that was part of the big Plan too. Either way…it worked.

Regardless of hopes, the idea of once again owning a home brought me several points of consternation.

If we own a home are we tied down – to one place, to a mortgage, to jobs, to a certain economy and real estate market? That doesn’t fit into the gospel idea of ‘take nothing, sell it all, go and trust God’. When we first began this journey, we did take a few things, we didn’t sell it all but we go and for the most part of this journey, we have trusted that God is always with us and will always guide us.

If we own a home, does it make us less ready to go as God guides? We already proved that one. We had a home plus acreage. Plus animals. Once we said ‘yes, we are ready,’ all things fell into place. In a very short amount of time, we no longer had most of those things and we were on the road. We lacked for nothing.

Ok, so that answers one question. A home does not tie us down.

But what about too much? How much is too much? This house was huge. Seriously so. Over 3000 square feet. No, we certainly do not need that much room. However, it would have been ideal to create a hospitality house, to turn it into a place for short retreats, a home always open to those who need a space for a short while. Still…it was grand.

I don’t think I will ever be able to justify owning a home while so many in the world don’t even have a roof. I can’t even begin to try. Nor will I make excuses for the fact that I have a roof. I am no more deserving than another. But I can make certain that I use my home in a way that will be to the glory of God.

And always, I will remember that just as Jesus sent the disciples out into the world with nothing, so Jesus later told them to be prepared for the next stage of the journey.

I will continue to process this. But I do believe I feel change coming.

July 29, 2010 Special Day

2010-07-29T10:01:00.000-05:00

This is a very special day.

Today, we celebrate Mary, Martha and Lazarus-Mary, for her willingness to listen; Martha for her ability to act and for the faith of both that allowed them to believe that Jesus was indeed the Resurrection and the Life and that all who believe will live forever. Upon that faith, Lazarus was returned to them. They are all symbols of faith, friendship and hospitality.

Today is also the birthday of our youngest grandson, Kason and our niece, Tori.

But today we also celebrate an event that happened thirty-six years ago. On July 29, 1974, I was three years out of high school and living what I thought was an independent life. Although my parents had already begun attending the Episcopal Church of the Holy Mount in Ruidoso, New Mexico, I was totally alienated from any type of religious institutions. It was a part of that time where I successfully drowned the niggling voice that came to me at odd moments. I was almost 21 and entertained no desire for any religious life.

My myopic view of life left no room for religion and very little concern for the political upheavals of the day. Therefore, I had absolutely no awareness of the 11 women “irregularly” ordained into the Sacred Order of Priests in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.

There was no anger, no awe, no shock. Just total ignorance.

For the past 15 years, it has mattered greatly to me. So today, I lift up these women and the men who supported them in thanksgiving and in prayer.

Merrill Bittner
Alison Cheek
Alla Bozarth (Campell)
Emily C Hewitt
Carter Heyward
Suzanne R. Hiatt (deceased 2002)
Marie Moorefield
Jeanette Piccard (deceased 1981)
Betty Bone Schiess
Katrina Welles Swanson (deceased 2006)
Nancy Hatch Witting

Ordaining Bishops:
Daniel Corrigan
Robert L DeWitt
Edward R Welles
Assisting: Antonio Ramos

It is upon the shoulders of all these women and these men that I stand today. Thank you.

Praisin' in the grass is a gas, baby can you dig it?

2010-06-28T13:48:00.004-05:00

A friend of mine from Fort Worth commented on my Facebook note about Mass on the Grass on Pride Sunday in Saint Louis, MO. He wrote “praisin’ in the grass is a gas, baby, can you dig it?” That paraphrase couldn’t fit any better!

And it was a joyous occasion with only one blot upon the service. That was the preacherman who rants each year a short distance from the crowd gathered to praise God and give thanks for God’s inclusive love. This year he stood much closer than in the past two years. He shouted throughout the service that God condemns all those who are gay and lesbian, bisexual and trangender. He yelled out that if we don’t change we will burn in hell. At one point, he asked if we thought that God would really listen to our prayers. A number of people nearer to his rant cried out in unison, “Yes we do!”

If he could be called nothing else, the word rude is appropriate to describe him. But many other descriptive terms come to mind. However, the emotion he brought out in me was an extreme and almost overwhelming sadness.

Sadness for him. That his idea of God is so small and his understanding so limited that he focused on a very few pieces of scripture rather on the theme throughout all scripture – LOVE. He attempted to thrust upon us a god so small and vengeful that only the fearful and hateful could ever worship a god such as that. All of his rantings were antithetical to my understanding of what God is to me.

I wanted him to hear the idea that if we are able to reconcile ourselves to one another, then we can be reconciled with God. He seemed a sad and lonely man, full of the fire of hell. Driven by a false dilemma that creates an inability to live in faith and love, he could not hear my message or that of others who tried to talk with him.

The Epistle reading for yesterday was Galatians 5:1, 13-25. I am sure that the preacherman knew the verses well. “Now the works of the flesh are obvious: fornication, impurity, licentiousness, idolatry, sorcery, enmities, strife, jealousy, anger, quarrels, dissensions, factions, envy, drunkenness, carousing, and things like these.” Sadly, I am also sure that his focus would be only the part dealing with sexual acts rather than viewing the verses as a whole.

Even sadder still is the fact that he does not reap the promise of the very next verses…”The fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, generosity, faithfulness, gentleness, and self-control. There is no law against such things. And those who belong to Christ Jesus have crucified the flesh with its passions and desires. If we live by the Spirit, let us also be guided by the Spirit.”

Preacherman is scared and filled with vengeance. Preacherman is afraid that if we, as LGBT people are accepted as full members into the living kin-dom of God, what does that say for him? If we are loved by God as children of God, and that in that love there is no “other” or “them,” where does that leave him in the hierarchal, patriarchal tenuous world he lives in? Where is his authority and power?

And that is the sad part. If we, as LGBT people hold an equal share in that love of God, he may see himself as losing the small amount of power and authority that he feels he can claim.

That is what fear does to us. It makes us worry that we are not getting our fair share. We put ourselves first rather than understanding that it is in the giving that we receive.

We are called into freedom but that does not mean that we can stand on a street corner and judge and condemn those we deem unworthy according to our own limited understanding. The “whole law is summed up in a single command.” We are called to love our neighbors as we love ourselves.

Preacherman can’t love me because his imagination won’t allow him to know how fully he is loved by God.

Because of that, he is not able to love himself. There is no way he could understand what was happening as we were “praisin’ in the grass.”

What is it to you?

2010-06-25T14:37:00.000-05:00

I have worked at a few food pantries over the last 15 years. In each one, one of the biggest problems was combating the need to control who gets how much. Someone was always worried that those receiving help would take advantage of those giving it away.

If a food pantry wishes to receive canned FDA foods, there certain rules apply that the pantry must follow to qualify. The pantry has to keep records of the people who receive the goods, i.e. social security, picture ID, residency, income eligibility. Time restrictions on how often a person/family may collect food are also set. Each client according to family size receives a certain amount of protein (tuna, peanut butter, legumes), vegetables and fruit each time period.

The reason a food pantry follows these guidelines is that this food comes from the federal government at no charge to the pantry. It is free. That means there is a great deal more substantial food that can be given out to each family every month over and beyond what comes in as donations. But, as I have heard all my life, nothing in life is free. With the free food come rules that exclude. If the pantry does not wish to stock their shelves with federal foods, then that which is given away becomes subject only to the largeness of heart…or the fear that there might not be enough.

Complaints that this, that or another “client” has a cell phone, a nice car, cigarettes, nice clothes or some other you-got-it-but-I-want-it material object causes these things to become a meter by which that client is gauged worthy (or unworthy) to receive free food.

Not long ago, I read Sara Mile’s Take this Bread. Now I am reading her book, Jesus Freak. Two things come to me from these books: Feed my sheep. Feed all my sheep, no exclusions.

It’s all about steadfast unconditional love…that hesed of God. “We can't be taken advantage of when we give away without condition. When we give with the only consideration being that we give to all, no one can take advantage of us. (Sara Miles in Jesus Freak when a student asked if she was afraid that people would take advantage of the St. Gregory of Nyssa Food Pantry) It’s sort of like that crazy verse, “whoever loses his life will save it; whoever is last will be first.”

This is important information for us to digest, not just from a food point of view but for all basic needs that people have. We need food. We need shelter from the elements. We need education and medical care. All these things make up a community. We need to love and be loved. We need community. By what do we monitor another’s need?

The world is full of people who worry that someone else is going to get something he or she doesn’t deserve. We are so worried about that idea that we can’t even see that people are dying from lack of medical attention, food, shelter, love…and more.

These things should not be used as bargaining chip in the game of life. Food, love, shelter and so many other things are not treats to hold over another’s head while asking that person to sit, beg, or play dead.

“Feed my sheep.” In the Gospel of John, Jesus tells Simon Peter – feed my lambs, tend my sheep, feed my sheep. And then, when Peter worries about whether or not the beloved disciple should stay or go, Jesus says, “what is that to you?” He did not say, ‘if you think you have enough to share, then feed others.’ He just said, “Feed…” He said “Follow me” not, ‘come on, if and when you have the time.’

What is it to you or to me?

Jesus didn’t tell us who the lambs are. He didn’t tell us where we were going. We cannot assume that there are lambs less deserving. We cannot assume we have the answers. We have only the work that is in front of us. We don’t have time to worry about who we should exclude. The only thing we can safely assume is that Jesus meant all.

Every last one.

Now.

Today.

This very minute.

Holy Week

2010-03-30T22:02:00.002-05:00

My God, my God…I am weary.

My God, dear God…I am elated.

My bones are weary but my heart is wild with joy.

My brain is fuzzy but one thing I know for sure – I love you.

Sermon Offered at Episcopal School of Ministry, January 23, 2010

2010-01-23T21:46:00.000-06:00

Psalm 33, Ephesians 3:14-21, Matthew 24:24-27

http://satucket.com/lectionary/Phillips_Brooks.htm

Awesome Fullness

When I first read the scriptures for today, the first thing that came into my mind was the verse, “When I fall on my knees, with my face to the rising sun, oh Lord have mercy on me.”

It’s the way I felt when standing on Presque Isle, watching the sun set across Lake Erie, I was overcome by the sight and fell to my knees in the sand with the words coming from my mouth – “and our eyes behold the vesper light, we sing your praises, O God: Father, Son, and Holy Spirit” It’s that same feeling that I feel when I fully realize that God LOVES me…that Christ dwells in me… that in faith, I am rooted deeply in that love. It makes me want to share that love, knowing that I am included in that vast unending love of God.

Funny how that always comes as a comfortable shock…if it is possible to be comforted by a shock.

In a time of such conflict and doubt these are assurances that we need…these little verses, these pieces of songs and prose that remind us of our AWE.

I can only guess that Phillip Brooks must have felt that too. January 23 is the day that we commemorate him. He is known as the author of “O Little Town of Bethlehem” but he is also known as one of the greatest American preachers of the 19^th century. Ordained an Episcopal deacon in 1859, he later became rector of Church of the Holy Trinity in Philadelphia and later still rector of Trinity Church in Boston. It was a time of civil discord, a country at war, President Lincoln assassinated. There was definitely conflict and doubt with many false prophets abounding.

Brooks was also an “overseer and preacher” at Harvard University, but he turned down an offer to be the “sole preacher and teacher of Christian ethics” there. He once wrote that his only ambition was to “be a parish priest and, though not much of one, would as a college president be still less". In 1891 he was elected as the sixth bishop of Massachusetts. He died 15 months later on January 23.

Unrest and uncertainty assault us every day. In our economy, our church, our jobs, our personal lives. That is the reality of life, historically and presently and will be in the future. Today parts of our world are shaking and rumbling all around us, literally cracking and heaving and hundreds of thousands of people have died and even more injured and made homeless…almost country-less.

Then…then we have the audacity of the Pat Robertsons of the world making hate-filled and irrational statements that these catastrophes are the result of pacts with the devil and that these have been brought on by God’s wrath over certain sin. Wouldn’t it be nice to think that a thing as big as the earthquake in Haiti could be attributed to a pact with the devil? Wow, we could fix that easily, couldn’t we? Make a few sacrifices, maybe even an evangelist or two; promise a few virgins…surely that would fix it.

Talk about a False prophet…

The gospel of Matthew tells us…Do Not believe it. The devil is not the one being pointed at; rather, it may be the one who is pointing. I think that Robertson and others may have forgotten about the idea that Jesus came to set us free from such things.

We know that the one pointing is a False Prophet because the psalmist tells us … and we know it to be true…

^… the word of the Lord is upright,
and all his work is done in faithfulness.
⁵He loves righteousness and justice;
the earth is full of the steadfast love of the Lord.

Earthquakes, tsunamis, hurricanes – these all can be the effect of a rapidly changing global warming pattern…and these may even be attributed to our selfish drive to get as much as we can as fast as we can…but these things are not happening because God is punishing a group of people who may (or may not have) made a pact with the devil or because a place caters to a gay crowd or because a city is known for a bit of ribald revelry. These things happen because … well, because creation keeps on happening…and so does death and destruction. It is just a dynamic part of living.

We are not measured by the bad things like natural disasters that happen to us or around us. We are measured by what we do, how we act, how we reach out to those who are dramatically affected by these things; by life its ownself, whether that be an earthquake or losing a loved one or becoming homeless…what we do for others is how we are measured.

Just like the author of Ephesians, I pray that we all may have the power to comprehend, with all the saints, what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, so that we may be filled with all the fullness of God.

And as we are filled with this AWE-some fullness, we are filled with the righteous knowledge that overcomes all false prophets and false messiahs. In that fullness, that rootedness, the richness that belongs to God will be ours to share, in love and awe-filled wonder.

MLK Day January 18, 2010

2010-01-18T21:32:00.002-06:00

Well, hello. Yes, I am still here although I suppose in a hiding of sorts...or so busy that I have no time to formulate a thought. Whatever the reason, today opened up a lot of thoughts in me.

Today, we had a program at Christ Church Cathedral, St Louis called "Let Freedom Ring." It was an all day reading of the sermons, speeches and writings of the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. While others read, I tweeted a good deal of the readings.

Many of his quotes are embedded on my brain, from both today and from the past. From the past, many of his words helped me understand why I cannot sit still while so much goes on around me. His words helped me, more than anyone thing, to understand the Gospel of Jesus Christ. Today only energized that understanding.

I first read Dr. King as a grad student at Brite Divinity School in Fort Worth. Yeah, I know. Long time to go without reading Dr. King. It is a regret but I can guarantee you that I made up for it.

While I knew many of the speeches that I heard today and many of the direct quotes, one that struck me anew had to do with problems he noted: he said that we have a problem with a "sort of quasi-liberalism based on the principle of looking sympathetically at all sides." Basically, what he is saying is that all those fence sitters are not all nice and innocent; rather, what they are is a major problem. He is talking in particular about the "northern liberals" back in the 60's who claimed that the South was so wrong about it's attitude but didn't deliberately do anything about it.

That problem still exists, within and without the lesbigay population. People think that being gay or lesbian is not a problem...they don't even have a problem with same sex marriage...but they don't do anything about it.

Or worse, there are gays and lesbians who are gay or lesbian, married or coupled, some with kids. From their "lifestyle" one would assume that they do not have a problem with being gay or lesbian. They may even be bold about being gay or lesbian. Yet, what do they do to help those who are not able to be so bold? What do they do to change the world?

So, "quasi-liberalism" struck me as an appropriate term. Quasi...having some resemblance...almost, but not quite. Nearly...but not there yet.

So, what are we waiting on? What will it take to get people off of the fence?

One more quote: "Shallow understanding from people of goodwill is more frustrating that absolute misunderstanding from people of ill will."

I'll leave it at that.

World AIDS Day Service Christ Church Cathedral, St. Louis, MO

2009-12-01T14:41:00.001-06:00

“If God is for us, who is against us?...It is God who justifies. Who is to condemn? (Romans 8: 31-34)

The answer to that first question must seem simple to many. The World AIDS Day theme for 2009 is 'Universal Access and Human Rights'. The very idea that there must be a theme to focus an awareness campaign on universal access for life saving drugs and the issue of human rights shows that there are indeed many who are against those who live with HIV/AIDS. God may justify in the end but in the mean time, far too many seem to condemn.

Stigma and discrimination are major factors in HIV/AIDS awareness. Few diseases can cause a person to become a social outcast as quickly as HIV/AIDS. Family, friends, neighbors, church communities, fellow workers – we all know the stories of people diagnosed who have suddenly been alienated from all they knew and love. We all know stories of those who have died alone and forsaken.

And what is the fear? What is the difference between the AIDS pandemic and any other pandemic? Why the particular onus on this one? Would the AIDS pandemic have ever achieved the high level of notoriety it did were it not for the number of gay people affected?

My mom had a friend from high school who had a son that was just a month of so older than me. He and I used to play together when we were little. My mom and she lost touch as we grew up but in the late 80s, they had occasion to meet again. Her friend told my mom that her son had died. She wouldn’t tell my mom how or why but she did say that they burned his belongings, even his mattress. At the time, Mom was shocked that someone would do that. It only occurred to her later as she learned about AIDS that his death might have been AIDS related.

I remember when I was first touched by an AIDS story. As is often the case, the news stories didn’t affect me until it affected someone I knew. The rector at our parish spent his sermon time telling us about his son, Stephen. Actually, I didn’t even know he had a son until that moment. He told us that they had been estranged for some time because Stephen was gay. The problem was not because Stephen was gay, he admitted, but because he, as Stephen’s father, had a problem with Stephen being gay. Having no idea where he was going with the information, we all sat spellbound as he told us how they had only reconnected when he found out that Stephen was dying from AIDS. He then went on to tell us about Stephen’s partner, John and how special he was because John loved Stephen when even his own father could not. There was not a dry eye in the church by the end of the story. I don’t know how many minds our rector changed that day but I do know that he touched every one of us. I do know that out of that story was born an AIDS outreach from that parish to the local AIDS Outreach Center that ran a food pantry and cared for those dealing with end of life issues. The outreach is ongoing today.

Strangely enough, AIDS opened a path from Stephen to his father. Prior to Stephen’s sickness, ignorance clouded his father’s mind. His love for his son could not overcome the disappointment he felt at Stephen being gay. It was in the knowledge of death that the ignorance was lifted and love overcame the fear. Through John’s love and tender care for Stephen, our rector learned true love, that unconditional, steadfast kind.

So many names… So many dead…. So many more dying… What opportunities for learning lie in wait for us as the veil of ignorance and fear is lifted? What unconditional love might be learned as the knowledge of death touches us? What gifts have those who have died left for us? There is still so much to learn…so much to do.

The drugs needed to combat HIV/AIDS are now available for many. As is always the case, the more one can afford, the more one will receive. Those who suffer from poverty and lack of insurance also lack the ability to receive the needed care. Many of the ones dying today are the ones who simply cannot afford to live.

Ignorance that HIV/AIDS is a “gay” disease hinders proper funding to make the anti-retro-viral treatments available to many who live with HIV.

Fear of condoning or even promoting promiscuous sex in our youth and teens prohibits funding for sex education in our schools so that at risk behavior might be lessened.

Major theological battles are in the process within our largest denominations and religions about the right or wrong of being gay.

In the extreme, the government of Uganda is promoting a resolution to not only increase the punishment for being gay but to make it a crime for anyone to help someone who is gay. That means medical workers and pastoral care givers will be at risk of imprisonment when they try to help.

We cannot allow HIV/AIDS to continue being viewed through the eyes of fear and ignorance.

THAT is what this day is all about – raising awareness.. Awareness that the number of people living with HIV has risen from approximately 8 million in 1990 to an estimated 33.4 million people worldwide today and that 2.5 million of those are children;

THAT 25 million people have died of AIDS since 1981,

THAT there were 2 million deaths in 2008 alone;

THAT by the end of 2008, women accounted for 50% of all adults living with HIV worldwide

and In North America alone, there are 1.5 million adults and children living with HIV/AIDS.

In addition to all of that, in developing and transitional countries, 9.5 million people are in immediate need of life-saving AIDS drugs but only 42 % of those are actually receiving the drugs.

This is not a “gay” disease… regardless of how it has devastated so many lives of those who happen to be gay.

It is a disease that threatens all people. It is especially a threat to the “least of these” among us – our children and those who live in poverty. One of the fastest growing groups of people in the US living with AIDS is heterosexual women, in particular, teenage girls.

In its short 28 year history, HIV/AIDS has proven to us that it breeds very well in ignorance. It thrives in systems of fear.

HIV/AIDS has shown us that it will not go away on its own. In fact, if we continue on the course we are on, it will only continue to grow.

It is up to us to break the bonds of ignorance and fear.

Whether we do that by urging our national government and church leaders to speak out against the resolution in Uganda,

…Or work to end discriminatory laws at home,

…Or work for the passage of a national health care bill or

…Or medically and pastorally tend to those who have been cast aside due to the stigma of AIDS; regardless of what we do, we must do something.

To ignore the problem is to be a part of the problem.

We know that “creation waits with eager longing…to be set free from its bondage to decay and will obtain the freedom of the glory for the children of God.” Creation is groaning for us to awaken from our slumber.

This is not about being gay. It is about living in love, not in fear. It is about taking care of one another; not condemning that which we do not understand. It is about standing up against that condemnation.

We are our brothers’ and sisters’ keeper; we have a great amount of work to do.

Let us get on with it.

( statistics come from http://www.avert.org/)

Barbi Click

Re: Uganda's Anti-Homosexuality Bill of 2009

2009-11-20T09:36:00.002-06:00

and the lack of response from The Episcopal Church in the voice of our Presiding Bishop...

The Rev. Dr. Elizabeth Kaeton at Telling Secrets says it so well that I won't even waste time repeating it all.

I will quote another "Beloved" -- The Late Great Molly Ivins: "What you need is sustained outrage...there's far too much unthinking respect given to authority."

People, we ought to be outraged.

Silence is not golden...it is death-dealing.

“the ultimate test of a moral society”

2009-11-04T15:05:00.001-06:00

I just can't help but be amazed at the narrowness of people's belief systems. We talk about being a nation that believes in God even to the ridiculous point of having hissy fits about the word "God" being on our money or being able to display the Ten Commandments in government buildings. We talk God but we don't live it. We believe in God as long as we can fit the concept of God into our little shoebox minds. We love to point out how others do not act as though they believe in God but never stop to turn that pointing finger around to the tip of our own noses. We want others to change and do the things that we believe are good and right. Anyone who disagrees with us must be wrong. We talk about listening but all we are doing is thinking about what we will say next when the bozo talking shuts the heck up. Look at the success of the blog world – we can write what we want and not worry about someone interrupting us.

We live in this giant I, ME, MINE world. We can hardly blame it on one generation or the next. Best I can tell, every generation has tendency to view the world from an individual-what-does-it-do-for-me type of viewpoint. Everything is about ME NOW and if I have more then I will share later…maybe.

So what it in the world is up with this huge preoccupation about gays and lesbians, what they do, who they want to spend their lives with and whether they want to have children? Why are some heterosexuals so obsessed with trying to push us back into the closet? Or worse, bury us and play like they just saved humanity from some huge eschatological evil.

I am not surprised that the vote in Maine was a Yes vote on 1. Yet I am surprised that people care so much to spend so much money to fight one group of people having the right to legally marry a person that they love. So much money spent on this vote in Maine. Meanwhile children in the US go hungry, go without healthcare, are abused, mistreated, and ignored. While all the money that is being spent making certain that heterosexual marriage is kept clean and sanctimonious for heterosexual people, children died.

Dietrich Bonhoeffer, German Lutheran pastor theologian during Hitler's reign wrote that "The ultimate test of a moral society is the kind of world that it leaves to its children." I won't even go into the crappy world we are leaving to our children…I am just talking about today and the way we treat them in the right here and now. If we are to be judged by Bonhoeffer's statement, we are a very immoral society and it appears we are steadily declining. But I hardly think it has anything at all to do with gay couples being able to wed the person they love. In fact, let's put the blame square where it belongs. If it isn't your kid, very few give a rat's ass.

Best I can tell, the world at large and the U.S. in particular is in a rather sorry state without worrying about gay marriage. I currently work at Episcopal City Mission. Although it is a chaplaincy program that ministers to kids in detention (jail), we get calls every Sunday and Monday from women seeking shelter. One can only guess why they seek it more then.

In a nation where almost half of all marriages end in divorce, perhaps society's focus would be better set on why people marry rather than who people marry.

Jesus talks about divorce yet it makes little difference. Even the church agrees that divorce is sometimes a necessary part of life. Marriage is not quite as sacred as we would like to pretend it is. Marriage is a civil ceremony, a legal status governed by law. According to the 2006 Census Bureau statistics, less than half of the "household" population in the US was married. So who is so concerned about who can and who cannot get married?

Might the world be a better place if we focus our attention on the families that are rather than the families that might be somewhere in the future? There are a whole lot of problems out there that need immediate attention and some of that money being spent on the boogie man in the closet would be well directed to those things.

According to the Annie E. Casey Foundation and Kids Count Data Center, the US average for children living in single-parent families is 32% (as of 2008). Maine's average is 31%. That's a whole lot of single-parent (most often Moms) raising kids while working.

In the US, 8% of the children live in extreme poverty – remember that extreme poverty means that it leads to death. In Maine, that number is 7% (as of 2008) The kind of killing poverty is something we like to pretend doesn't happen here in our own little country. But it does.

According to the Children's Defense Fund, in the United States as of November 2008, there were 73,901,733 children in the US. Out of those 73+million children, one is born into poverty every 33 seconds; one is abused or neglected every 35 seconds; one child dies before his or her first birthday every 18 minutes; and every 3 hours one child or teen is killed by gunfire…right here in these United States of America. Not only are our children compromised in these ways but 8.9 million of them are without health insurance. Thirty plus million of those 73+ million children are in the School Lunch Program which allows reduced price or free lunch.

Teen suicide rate is also on the increase again. According to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention, suicide is the third leading cause of death for young people between the ages of 15 and 24 and the second leading cause of death among 25-34 year olds. Males are four times as likely to take their own lives as are females.

I wonder what correlation there is between those who are pro-guns, anti-gay, anti-healthcare reform, anti-welfare, pro marriage for heterosexuals only, pro death penalty and believe that corporal punishment would bring peace back into the public school classroom.

The animosity toward gay and lesbian couples wanting to marry might be more understandable if it were truly a conviction based upon faith but it isn't. It is a smear campaign based upon a mass of lies. If I marry my partner, it will not affect one single marriage in this world negatively. Rather, from my partnership, another couple might even find hope in our love for one another.

No one is going to teach "homosexuality" in school. Shoot, they don't even teach heterosexuality in school…maybe if they did, the teen birth rate would not be increasing again. Kids adopted by gay or lesbian couples are no more likely to turn out gay than if raised by the biological parents. No one can teach someone to be gay…and furthermore – WHY THE HELL WOULD THEY WANT TO? Why would anyone "choose" to be gay????? Choose to be discriminated against? Choose to be vilified, demonized, humiliated…beaten to death??? Get real. Please.

Marriage by gays and lesbians will probably not change the statistics for divorce at all. The few studies done so far show that gay or lesbian couples are just as likely to break up for all the same reasons as do straight couples…life happens and people change and it is easier to divorce than it is to try to reconcile differences. It's that I, ME, MINE thing again working overtime. Gays and lesbians are no different than straight people.

Gay couples and lesbian couples will continue to marry when and where they can; they will continue to live together till death do they part; they will continue to raise children – either their own or those children no one else wants – and they will continue to live outside of the closet…regardless of whether or not other people want them to do so. They will continue to live, love, work, play, pray and just be…even if it makes other people uncomfortable.

Best I can tell, what we need to worry about is the children – not just our own selfish concerns for our own but for the children of this nation. They are wounded and we are the ones inflicting the wounds.

We are seriously failing the test of a "moral society."

Out of sync but working on it

2009-10-27T21:16:00.002-05:00

Joy and sadness blend to a point that it is difficult to tell where one ends and the other begins. I know I feel joy that the Diocese of Fort Worth is about to ordain its first woman priest. I know I am absolutely elated that she will be the first woman rector of a parish in Fort Worth.

The Rev. Susan Slaughter will be ordained a priest in the Episcopal Diocese of Fort Worth on November 15, 2009. My heart sings out in joy for her and for the people of St. Luke's.

Sadly, I will not be able to be a part of the celebration. I am in St. Louis, Diocese of Missouri.

I am here in Missouri because of the Diocese of Fort Worth. I am now in discernment with a committee at my parish. It is now in the process of writing the report and I in writing my autobiographical sketch and vision statement. God willing, I will soon be recommended to my bishop and to the Commission on Ministry as a candidate for the priesthood.

I remember the first time I went to my rector of the moment to tell him how I felt called into a deeper form of ministry. He reminded me that there were many avenues open to me. I could do all the things that I was currently doing – altar guild, Episcopal Church Women, Food Bank and went on to name a few more. He reminded me that was a lot and that perhaps I should accept it as enough. He did, however, give me one thing which I have carried with me for these past 6 years. He suggested that I prayerfully discern why God would be calling as a woman, as a lesbian at that particular time in that particular place. I don't know that he fully understood the profundity of his statement yet I did.

After the election of Bishop Gene Robinson and Fort Worth's first move to break from the Episcopal Church, we left our beloved little parish of Christ the King. There was just too much division over my having stood up at the specially called diocesan convention and spoke out against all the vitriolic statements being made again Bishop Gene Robinson in particular and gays and lesbians in general. We left our parish because to stay meant to be the reason for a split within the parish.

We decided to attend Trinity on the southwest side of Fort Worth. We thought it was large enough for us to get lost in. Yet we found a new family in the small folk service. Over the next couple of years we began to heal.

I remember the second time I went to a rector in Fort Worth with my thoughts that God was calling me into an ordained ministry. That one believed me and tried to help. But he knew the odds. I had already made a name for myself by standing up at that convention and by writing publicly what I believed to be the truth about the Diocese of Fort Worth. Plus I was a co-founder of Fort Worth Via Media, a group intent upon remaining within the Episcopal Church in full contradiction of what the diocese of the time was intending. In addition to that, by 2006, I was also on the board of IntegrityUSA. None of these things endeared me to then-bishop Jack Iker.

Nonetheless, my rector said that he would be willing to go to the bishop with me and for me, recommending that I be considered for the diaconate. Since he wasn't sure so sure about gays and lesbians being bishops, this was a fairly big deal on his part.

Yet, it just was not something that I could do…not at that point…not at that time. I just could not sign anything that said I would never seek the priesthood, that I would agree to a permanent diaconate. There was no moral way at that time that I could have answered, "I am ready and willing to do so" to the question "And will you, in accordance with the canons of this Church, obey your bishop and other ministers who may have authority over you and your work?" As far as the infamous "Dallas Plan" was concerned, the fact that I was living within a partnership kept that from ever being a possibility. Shoot, I wasn't even allowed to be a part of the Cursillo team because I was living with Debbie. There was no way people in Dallas would accept me as a candidate for the priesthood.

So, it was through a long period of discernment that my spiritual advisor and I worked and prayed to find another way. And so I am, here in St. Louis with my little family, Debbie, Tucker and our two dogs. Through discernment, we sold our farm, our animals, and left our parents, my grandmother, our children and our precious grandchildren and headed to Missouri.

So, I won't be in Fort Worth for Deacon Susan's ordination. But I will be rejoicing…and crying…joy mixed with sadness. But somehow I believe that by November 15, the joy will outweigh the sadness.

It will be a new day in Fort Worth. It won't be my day but it will be a very good day.

A Reflection given at the Celebration of Creation: the Feast of St. Francis at Christ Church Cathedral, St. Louis October 4, 2009

2009-10-05T22:07:00.003-05:00

"As for me, I am establishing my covenant with you and your descendants after you, and with every living creature that is with you, the birds, the domestic animals, and every animal of the earth with you, as many as came out of the ark." (Genesis 9:9-10)

And here we are, in 2009, and we still marvel at a rainbow after a storm, the "bow" that was placed in the sky as evidence of the promise made by God to the beloved people and to all the animals of the earth.

We are here today with more evidence of God's love – our pets— to bless these faithful companions of ours. I am sure that God smiles in love at each one of our precious friends – at the love we hold for them and even more so for the unconditional love that they hold for us.

The break neck speed at which we live our lives hardly leaves time for a pet yet there they are …always glad to see us …always ready for us to be with them…they make the most of every moment we give them.

They seem to realize that in spite of our daily anxieties, our frustrations, the time spent away… their job is to love us…regardless… faithfully… steadfastedly….

Sort of like the love that God holds for us – unconditional… faithful… steadfast…

There are many things that we can learn from these faithful companions so it seems important to recognize this love today and to turn some of it back their way.

In that most individuals of the world are not able to have the luxury of pets for the sole purpose of loving them, we need to be especially thankful for this point of privilege in our lives. And it is a point of privilege.

"An estimated 16,000 children die from hunger –related causes every day." …Even in our city that has so much poverty, it is difficult to imagine children starving to death. Yet it is real in far too many places.

In many parts of the world, one animal can mean the difference between life and death. A goat, a cow, or flock of chickens – these are more than pets… if we can imagine the idea of "more than a pet."

These animals are capable of making the difference between poverty and self-sufficiency – the literal difference between life and death.

[If you want a chance to learn more about giving an animal to someone across the world…to someone who needs us to make that difference check out the Episcopal Relief and Development web site – www.er-d.org/giftsforlife.]

We live in a time that calls for radical change. It is a time of transformation, of deliberately learning how to give love rather than just be recipients of love…of learning how to love regardless…faithfully…steadfastedly…

God put these animals in our care. With all the animal abuse and puppy mills in the news lately, one can wonder just why God chose to trust us with these precious gifts. But they have lessons for us to learn.

As a part of the process of transformation – from these animals, whether we have them for our own love-and-be-loved-selves or whether we give one in an effort to make a difference, these animals teach us what it is to be selfless…what it is to love without thought of self…what it is to be faithful.

They give us comfort…they recognize our moods…they can even save our lives…they offer themselves to us wholly during our times of happiness or sorrow. They will give us everything they can…

Like God, all they want from us in return is our love…

Our animals are about to receive a blessing. In that moment and forever more, let us realize them for the blessings that they are. Amen.

Today...

2009-09-08T22:12:00.004-05:00

I wanted to blog about this morning's lectionary...in particular, Paul's letter to the Philippians...most particularly this part:

"I want you to know, beloved, that what has happened to me has actually helped to spread the gospel, so that it has become known throughout the whole imperial guard and to everyone else that my imprisonment is for Christ; and most of the brothers and sisters,having been made confident in the Lord by my imprisonment, dare to speak the word with greater boldness and without fear." (http://bible.oremus.org/?passage=Philippians+1:12-30)

For some reason, when I read this, I immediately thought about the big blather against Health Care Reform and most especially about the psuedo-intellectual crap about President Obama's speech to the school children today. (Which I don't know about yours, but mine did not get to watch the address)

Well, I just haven't had the time today to do it. But I was thinking about the two things: the idea that something that seems bad, even evil, might actually be a good thing, might even be the work of God working in those weird and wacky ways that God has of acting sometimes.

Maybe all these people who are so absolutely nuts, screaming and ranting and raving about "socialistic" ideas and "indoctrination," maybe...just maybe people - ordinary people just going about the daily chore of living - maybe these people will suddenly stop and say What the >>>>>! And maybe they will think that these ranters and ravers are actually as dangerous as they seem to be to me right now. In their realization of the danger, maybe they will start to think that it is time to put a stop to this nonsense.

Because when someone actually stops to think about it, the chances are that they will realize how ridiculous these people appear to be. It, hopefully, will become clear that rather than being one of the Haves, many of the people who haven't had time to think about health care and presidents speeches are more than likely a big part of the Have-nots. And when they do start to think...well, all those ranters and ravers best watch out. Perhaps even a few of the ranter/ravers will sit down and shut up.

Gosh, I wish I had time to write about this...

“Invest Wisely in a Woman Today”

2009-08-22T22:18:00.003-05:00

“The liberation of women could help solve many of the world’s problems, from poverty to child mortality to terrorism.”

This is the lead in to a news story from the New York Times found here. It is a great story and one with which I agree.

However, on my mind for the past few weeks has been the dilemma of public school and education in our own hometowns. This is mainly due to the fact that we have a thirteen year old in 8^th grade in the Saint Louis Public Schools.

Living in Texas, rural Texas at that, we were well aware of the problems of public school and the inadequacies to meet both the red tape for the state and the needs of the child. The whole idea is rather oxymoronic, actually. (if that is a word) One cannot meet both the needs of a bureaucracy which is wasteful and self absorbed and the needs of a child who is under nourished both emotionally and physically.

Then there was Dallas. Its public school district had extreme problems. Most problems seemed to be between the growing Hispanic population and the Black population which was feeling very jilted due to the rapid growth of the Hispanic population. Dallas was under threat of losing their accreditation when we left Texas. I have heard similar horror stories of New York City. I can actually speak to the issues here in Saint Louis.

The schools here serve a major purpose -- they feed kids twice per day and keep kids off of the street. At the magnet school Tucker attends, the attendance rate is fairly good -- around 92%. That means that a great number of city kids get at least two meal per day. During summer there is a summer session - although they have classes, this session is again a source of food and busy work for many of those attending.

Anyone who has any type of money or religious connections in St. Louis has their child in either a private or parochial school. IF a child must be in public school, then the only option is to be in a magnet school. IF a child has provable test scores showing that the child has an IQ above 120 then that special child can go into the special magnet school for gifted kids. If not, so sorry, too bad. If you are poor white, poor black, or pink or blue...you are stuck with what is available. Tough stuff.

The kids have to go through metal detectors each and every single day. They cannot carry their backpacks from class to class. They can't even take their books home at night UNLESS there is a specific assignment that they must have the book to complete. Otherwise, the books stay in the classroom. So many rules. Still, bullying and fighting go on. It is difficult if there is a child (or dozens) who have one special need or another. It is mob control at its best. It is chaos or hell to those who do not do well with confusion and noise.

Ok, so why did this article trigger this little bit of rhetoric?

Because we have a crisis in the US that is a disaster in the making. We are cultivating an elite group of well heeled educated young people. We are cultivating a large group of undereducated minorities. We are developing a ruling class and a class waiting to be ruled. Yes, this has been going on for a long time but look at where it is happening -- in the largest cities in the US -- NYC, St. Louis, Dallas...I know these for sure. I would imagine that the same is true for Chicago, LA, Houston and oh so many more.

What are we doing to our children? Will women in Burundi or Pakistan save our children in the US? Why can't we work at the liberation of the women in the US – the "mules of society" as Zora Neale Hurston called them -- the Black women of the United States? What woes would be cured if they did not have the difficulties they have? How are their problems any more their own fault than are the problems of the women in Burundi, et al?

And then, let us talk about the Latina women all over the US. What about them? How many educated Hispanics do any of us know? How many even finish high school? The dropout age for a Latina in Texas happens around the 9th grade. College is only a dream for them.

And then, when we are finished talking about the "minorities" which are not really minor at all, how about all those women in impoverished rural areas? What about the women of Kentucky, Tennessee, West Virginia, Texas, Oklahoma, Mississippi or Louisiana?

What about these women of all colors in the US? What about them? Or do we expect them, since they live in the great United States of America, to just pull themselves up by their own bootstraps out of the muck and mire?

If women are so vital to the health and well being of our world – and I do agree that they are – how could they help this situation of our undereducated masses? What could they change if they were given the chance? Could they stop the disaster that is building?

I am not against these programs that help women all over the world. It is good and of course, whatever good is done in one place will radiate good from that point.

I’m just saying…instead of shaking our heads and shrugging our shoulders about the women in our own cities and towns, why don’t we “invest wisely” in all of them today? It might solve the whole problem here in our public education systems. Then look how many there would be to help in other parts of the world.

"O God of Justice and Compassion"

2009-08-14T13:29:00.000-05:00

“O God of justice and compassion, who put down the proud and the mighty from their place, and lift up the poor and afflicted: We give you thanks for your faithful witness Jonathan Myrick Daniels, who, in the midst of injustice and violence, risked and gave his life for another; and we pray that we, following his example, may make no peace with oppression; through Jesus Christ the just one: who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, for ever and ever.”

http://satucket.com/lectionary/Jonathan_Daniels.htm

Psalm 85:7-13, Galatians 3:22-28, Luke 1:46-55

On August 14, 1965, the day Jonathan Daniels was arrested for picketing local businesses, I was twelve days from turning twelve years old. Many things were changing in my young life, but the issue of Civil Rights was not one of them. The death of a white boy in Alabama did not have much chance of resonating in my pre-teen rural Texas life. I lived on a ranch outside of Comanche, Texas. The town was very white oriented, even to the point of the big tree on the square referred to more often than not as the “Hanging Tree.”

The official myth behind the tree was that long ago it stood there during a raid by a group of Comanche Indians on the little settlement. Every person in the town was killed that day, except for one boy. He had the foresight to climb high in the tree and was quiet enough to be invisible to those trying to rid the land of the white interlopers. That is the official story of the tree. Yet, to its shame, it was also the site of numerous hangings of young black men further along in history.

It is not as though I was unaware of injustice. I knew it for what it was. It lived in many instances of everyday life. Yet the news of Jonathan Myrick Daniels’ death in Alabama did not penetrate my reality.

Playing the game of ‘What If?’ is rarely a worthwhile thing to play. Yet, if I did play it, I would like to think that had I known, had I been just a little older, I would have been motivated much as Jon Daniels was.

But that was then and it hardly matters what I might have done had I the chance. The only question worth asking today is, “What am I doing now?”

Often, I think – a lot! But always, at my core, I know it is not THE thing and it is far, far from enough.

I do not know what call lies ahead of me. But I do believe this: “the law was our disciplinarian until Christ came, so that we might be justified by faith. But now that faith has come, we are no longer subject to a disciplinarian, for in Christ Jesus you are all children of God through faith.” (Galatians 3:23-26) Therefore I am subject first and foremost to my faith that God will guide me, today, tomorrow and the next.

So, I know the answer.

It has to be the same as Jonathan Daniels’, “I knew then that I must go…”

Cravings and Faith

2009-07-28T22:21:00.002-05:00

Exodus 16:2-4,9-15

Psalm 78:23-29

John 6:24-35

When Debbie, Tucker and I set out on our pilgrimage in the summer of 2007, we left with the words of the Gospels deep in our hearts and steady on our minds." take no bag for the journey, or extra tunic, or sandals or a staff."

What we had was enough. Our faith in God alone was enough.

Fully believing that God was calling us to travel across this church and this land as a "face" of a non-traditional family of faith – two moms and their son – we sold most of what we had, gave away a lot more and put that which we thought we would need later into storage. We took off in our old motorhome and set about trying to live into what we perceived to be God's will for us.

Believing so strongly, hearing so clearly this call from God…still…we continually needed signs that yes, indeed, we were on the right path. Still…even though we had more than enough and were so full of passion that we touched people strongly enough with our story that they gave us love offerings to help continue our journey…still…we worried and fretted about how long, Oh Lord, how long would we have enough.

We are all such worrisome creatures. It seems to be against our human nature to be free of worry. It is a wonder that God has not throw up those proverbial hands and cried out in dismay "I want to start all over!" How we must frustrate the will of God every day!

I find some solace in my questioning and doubt when I read these passages from Exodus, Psalms and John. Paul seems to be the only apostle to have ever fully understand the whole of God's plan. Love one another and live as though this is our very last day. That, to me, is Paul's message throughout his letters. Oh, if we could only wrap our human hearts around that idea!

We crave so many things. Emotionally we are so immature in our faith. We are very similar to the Israelites in the wilderness. We resemble so closely those followers of Jesus who seem to work at being ignorant.

The days of the Israelites' liberation from captors are so clearly forgotten that being bound to Egypt seems more appealing than suffering what they think is too little from God. They cannot see the freedom that lies ahead…only what they have left behind…and this they obviously see through rose-colored glasses forgetting all the bad parts.

They ask for bread and and voila! A fine flaky substance appears on the ground for them from which they can make the bread. Yet they look at it and ask, "What is it?" Unable to recognize the very thing they asked for, they have to be told, "It is the bread that the LORD has given you to eat." Because it is not in the form that they recognize and perhaps not the exact thing for which they asked, they can't see it for what it is…not only a gift from God but one which will sustain them.

Psalm 78 tells of all that God did for the people: they ask for bread and it is given to them. The bread was not enough so they ask for meat and it is sent to them. They eat and are filled after receiving everything for which they ask – those things for which they crave. Yet we know, if we read past verse 29, they continue their cravings nonetheless.

When we read the Gospel of John, is it any wonder that Jesus sounds a bit cross or irritated at those continually chasing after him? Here they are, following him everywhere, hanging on every word, yet still unable to understand. The followers of Jesus have everything before them that would heal their craving yet they constantly seem confused, unaware, blind to that gift from God, that water of life, the bread of heaven.

Jacob did not give the Israelites the well that provided them with water; Moses did not give them the bread from heaven. All these things came from God alone. Jacob and Moses were merely the instruments of God's will. Jesus tries to get it across to his followers that the signs are nothing – we cannot base our belief in the signs.

The people have to SEE or touch to believe. Without these tangible signs, all they are is just full for the moment. Jesus is all about eternity, not the moment.

Going through the discernment process right now, I am constantly faced with the desire to see a sign that all is well; that the call that I feel is truly from God.

During the pilgrimage that we were on, we continually asked ourselves if we were doing the right thing.

Why do we have to KNOW? What is this DOUBT? Is it so illogical to believe in this thing we call Holy Scripture?

Why are we so afraid to live beyond the margins of human logic to follow that profound understanding deep in our hearts – that place I believe that God resides within us? Our minds long to believe the words of Jesus, "Whoever comes to me will never be hungry, and whoever believe in me will never be thirsty." But our ability to reason tells us that this is impossible. Of course, we will get hungry and thirsty, regardless of how much we want to believe. Logic tells us that it is ridiculous to leave everything, give up all ties to the certain and walk into that faith that God will provide; God will lead. We want to believe the story about the lilies and the birds. We need to believe that all we have to do is ask and we will receive.

This was proven to us at every stop along our pilgrimage – people want to believe. They listened to us from Ohio to California. They wanted to do what they believed we were doing. They felt our passion and yet they recognized our fear. It was the recognition of that fear and their belief that we continued in spite of it that grabbed their attention.

Walking in faith is not about walking without fear. It is about walking in faith in spite of the fear – the logic that tells us we are about to fall off the end of the earth, that we are walking into the unknown, into a definite uncertainty. Walking in faith is about following even when others question our good sense; it is about taking one more step with the only certainty being the belief in our hearts that God is with us.

No wonder the Israelites complained about the weird stuff on the ground. Logic told them is was nothing usable. I completely understand the questions from the people following Jesus – how did you get across the sea; where did the bread and fish come from; what else are you going to do that will help us believe? I doubt there is one among us who would not have felt the same way as all of these people.

We will continue at times to allow logic to overrule our hearts. It is just our way. God knows that. But it is also God that calls us into the unknown, to continue on even though we may be afraid. It is Jesus who tells us, "Do not be afraid." We cannot let our fear hold us hostage. Fear is natural…even logical. But God is bigger.

That is when that prayer comes into play; "Feed on him in our hearts with thanksgiving."

Logic is human and so is fear. To live in Jesus and to feed on him in our hearts is so much bigger.

We have the signs. These are plentiful. We just need to remember to remember.

Jesus is that water by which we will never again thirst. Jesus is that bread for which we will never again hunger.

And all we can do is to continue to pray just as the people following Jesus did, "give us this bread…always."

“Warning”

2009-07-27T11:23:00.002-05:00

Long ago (at least, it seems a long time ago), prior to entering into this strange process of discerning God's will for me in particular, I felt the call to step outside of myself to engage in activities that tested the boundaries that I had drawn so carefully around me. Of course, most of this experimentation went on in my mind rather than in any actual doing or being.

One poem struck me, stayed with me and remains on my desk today: Jenny Joseph's poem which begins with the line "When I am an old woman, I shall wear purple." The actual name of the poem is "Warning."

When I first read it, I did not consider myself any way close to an "old woman". I suppose many would say (me included on some days) that I am much closer to that label now than I was then. The poem seemed to me to be courageous, something that I never felt I could do…ever.

I was a timid child, almost to the point of being socially paralyzed. I know that not many believe it now but it was true then. Seriously!

I overcame that so far as being able to speak out, yet inside, stepping outside of what I knew, it was just not something that I could do. It affected many parts of my life, stalling me in many ways.

I grew up wanting to be a missionary preacher but by the time I was old enough to do that, the church as I knew it and I had already parted ways...not that I could have even had I stayed. I thought about the Peace Corp but when it got right down to thinking seriously about going into a foreign country with total strangers, I was struck numb.

I suppose that falling in love with Debbie gave me more courage than I could ever have imagined. Having something to stand up for gave me a sense of being that I had never before felt. Living into what I am became a bigger reality than living within the boundaries that I had drawn around myself. Leaping over the fences created by me, I realized another barrier: I had built my fences within a perimeter defined by society. Yet with my newfound courage built by love, I was able to see that the barriers were human made, not ones created by God.

Isn't it strange how difficult it is to break out of our own self-imposed limitations yet how much easier it is to strain against the confines of a ruling body? When we set our own limitations, we justify these with all sorts of excuses – I am too young/old, short/tall, skinny/fat, poor/rich, tired/busy – any excuse will do and is set in the concrete of our individual minds. Yet restrictions set by somebody else's moral code, even if that someone else is society at large, can easily be deemed judgmental, harsh and in great need of change.

The major difference, I suppose, is that the first fence is the one we set and deep inside of us, we know we can break it down when and if we need to do so. It is as much of a protection fence as it is a limiting one. But when others set restrictions upon us, we feel that bile begin to back up in our throats, burning, causing great discomfort. We can try to adjust our lives to that point at which we can live within the limits but the problem is always there. The only way to rid ourselves of the discomfort is to address the thing causing the problem. That means changing something in our lives.

The problem is this: unless we are highly motivated to change, we are afraid to live into our imagination. Because we are afraid of change, we are not able to eliminate our own boundaries much less recognize the limitations set by a society living in fear of that which could be. If we are not able to embrace change as a good thing, we cannot grow. And of course, we all know that if we do not grow, we become stagnant and begin to wither and die.

While I have much growing to do, I am no longer stunted. I do not want to wait until I am an old woman to realize that I can live into my imaginings – more honest than that – I can not wait to live into God's imaginings FOR me. I may not wear a "red" hat or spend my pennies on brandy or summer gloves and such, but I can live my life in a manner which defies "normal" common logic. For I believe God's will for me is nowhere near what can be perceived as common, logical or "normal".

Warning

When I am an old woman I shall wear purple
With a red hat which doesn't go, and doesn't suit me.
And I shall spend my pension on brandy and summer gloves
And satin sandals, and say we've no money for butter.
I shall sit down on the pavement when I'm tired
And gobble up samples in shops and press alarm bells
And run my stick along the public railings
And make up for the sobriety of my youth.
I shall go out in my slippers in the rain
And pick flowers in other people's gardens
And learn to spit.

You can wear terrible shirts and grow more fat
And eat three pounds of sausages at a go
Or only bread and pickle for a week
And hoard pens and pencils and beermats and things in boxes.

But now we must have clothes that keep us dry
And pay our rent and not swear in the street
And set a good example for the children.
We must have friends to dinner and read the papers.

But maybe I ought to practice a little now?
So people who know me are not too shocked and surprised
When suddenly I am old, and start to wear purple.

Jenny Joseph (1961)

A Repeat

2009-07-11T22:17:00.001-05:00

This is a sermon that I gave on March 1, 2008 in Fort Worth, Texas at a local nondenominational church on the occasion of Dr. Louie Crew visiting Integrity Fort Worth. We met in the nondenom church because then-bishop Jack Iker would not allow the word "Integrity" to be used if we met at Trinity Episcopal parish. Still, to this day, Integrity Fort Worth is not allowed to meet in an Episcopal parish in Fort Worth even though many good things are happening there.

In one of the hearings today at General Convention, one of the deputies took great pause at the idea that the Church is to blame for those crimes committed against LGBT people. I was reminded of this sermon that I delivered at that time. I think that it is still far too appropriate.

BGC

For Once You Were Darkness

God told Jeremiah to tell the people, "For surely I know the plans I have for you,… plans for your welfare and not for harm, to give you a future with hope. Then when you call upon me and come and pray to me, I will hear you. When you search for me, you will find me; if you seek me with all your heart, I will let you find me, … and I will restore your fortunes and gather you from all the nations and all the places where I have driven you, … and I will bring you back to the place from which I sent you into exile.

I open with this message in Jeremiah 29: 11-14 even though it is not one of the readings for today. I use it as my email signature because it means so much to me. It gives me hope that one day this church, this Episcopal diocese in particular will be well and all those who have been driven out and sent away into exile will return. Meanwhile, it helps me to remember to trust God that the plans for my future, my welfare are clearly known, even if it is to God alone.

I have searched for God…I have sought God with all of my heart and I will one day be ready to be brought back into the place from which I have been driven away and sent into exile. So… I speak today from that place – in exile…a goodly place because I have been welcomed there but definitely not home – at least not yet.

Many of you know that Debbie, Tucker and I have been on a pilgrimage for the past eight months. We sold our home, our land and a whole lot of stuff and set out in an old motor home to hear what the Spirit is saying to the People of God. While we are still traveling, we have left behind the old motor home and are in the process of relocating to the Diocese of Missouri… to St. Louis, in particular so that I can enter into the process of ordination. Ordination is a little bit out of the question in Fort Worth in that first, I am female, second – a lesbian and third – in a monogamous committed, long term relationship.

Even though we are sort of settling down for a while, we still travel, speaking by invitation to those who invite us come visit their parishes, groups or workshops. Two weeks ago, we were in the Episcopal Diocese of San Joaquin, at the invitation of the University of the Pacific in Stockton. We were asked to lead a workshop about our Journey in Faith. The University was sponsoring a conference for lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, questioning, intersex folk and their allies.

There were quite a few workshops dealing with issues that relate to LGBTQIA people – health, legalities of partnerships, marriage, civil unions, tax laws, spirituality, and faith. Does it surprise anyone that the workshops regarding faith were less attended that the ones on legal and health issues?

What does the church have to say to a bunch of lgbtqia people between the ages of 17 and 30? The "traditional" interpretation of the Word of God is a bit harsh to this group. And they, being the age that they are, are of a mind that if the Church doesn't need them, they certainly don't need the church.

I can't help but sometimes think that theirs is the far healthier attitude. I often wonder what is wrong with those of us who do subject ourselves week after week to the possibility…no the probability of being mortally "wounded in the house of a friend" yet one more time… yet, like a phoenix we keep rising and coming back for more. …OR… it is more like we are caught up in the too familiar cycle of abuse – spiritual abuse, in this case.

I would guess that statistics would show that most young people who have been raised in the church do a bit of backsliding when suddenly they are without the rules and regulations of family life and experiencing life on their own for the first time. If the church can't even hold on to these young strait people, how can it possibly reach out to the young people who are coming into a fuller understanding of what it means to be classified as an "abomination" in the eyes of the public?

I want to say to the Church at large, "Sleeper Awake…Live as children of light for the fruit of the light is found in all that is good and right and true."

I want to find ways to reach out to these young people who think that the church has no need of them. I want to help them understand that they are the fruit of the light and they are good and right and true.

At the workshop that we led, there were a couple of very important questions that were asked by those attending. "What do I tell my gay friend when he says to me that he doesn't believe in God"? and "How do I respond biblically when those people toss scripture at me to tell me how horrible I am?"

These are certainly two questions that we have failed to answer well enough. Maybe it is because we are unsure in our own minds as to the answers.

WHY does hellfire and damnation preach easier than "and God said, It is good"? Why is it easier to swallow certain passages from Leviticus and Romans than it is to talk about the love between David and Jonathan or Ruth and Naomi or even of Jesus and the Beloved Disciple? These are love stories…affirming stories…stories that make us see the world in a different way. Why are we so afraid of these? Why are we even thinking about sex? It is supposed to be about Love…For strange puritanical reasons, we think it is easier to scare our children into believing in God than it is to love them into it.

I am sure that most people here know the high rate of suicide amongst teenagers who are growing into the sense of just how different they seem to be in relation to the rest of their world. It is in these younger years that the risk of suicide is so much higher. How culpable is the church in these preventable deaths? Ask Mary Lou Wallner, now with SoulForce and recently in the documentary "For the Bible tells me so" -- Ask her what part the Church played in the suicide of Anna, her lesbian Christian daughter.

We all know the name Matthew Shepard. And now, too recently, Lawrence King, a just turned 15 year old middle school youth shot in the head by another mother's son because Lawrence sometimes dressed too femininely…two families torn to shreds…two lives lost.

What part did our silence or the limited acceptance of the Church play in these murders?

I say it played a lot. And I will say more.

Where is our RAGE? Where is our Righteous Indignation?

As long as we allow ourselves to think that we are not Good, as long as we allow gay people, young or older, to think that the Church has no need of them, as long as the Church remains silent or even less than adamant about all the children being children of God, until this Church stands up and loudly proclaims THIS FEAR IS WRONG, preventable suicides and murders will continue. Until we teach our children how to love rather than how to hate, these deaths will happen.

So, what role do we, as gay and lesbian Christians, play in all of this? We have a big role. Are we to just play the victim, hiding in the dark, trying not to rock the strait boat in case we suddenly find ourselves tossed out? Are we to allow others to decide for us the proper course of action – talking about us rather than to us or rather than letting us talk?

How can we defend ourselves if we don't even know if we are defendable? We cannot allow others to set the stage for our acceptance. We have to find our own way. We must find our way through love stories that affirm our right to life. And these stories are there…and these begin with that story of creation – And God said, It is Good.

The Rev. Steven Kindle, a Disciples of Christ minister who is also a part of the documentary "For the Bible Tells Me so", is really a fairly awesome guy. We met him in California. He is straight, married, with no gay children. His only "gay agenda" being that he is working hard to help the Church understand that gays and lesbians wanting to be a part of the church is a good thing…not a bad one. He openly admitted that he was initially homophobic. His mind was changed by knowing gays and lesbians within the congregation that he was in. His life changed by realizing their gifts to the church and as he realized these gifts he realized he was being called to help. As he was speaking, I couldn't help but hear in my mind, The Gifts of God for the People of God.

Think about it…not taking anything away from straight people, but good grief…Can you imagine the silence in the national Episcopal Church alone, in THIS diocese if all the gays and lesbians in the church decided to skip one Sunday? The silence would be deafening! Seriously, the liturgy, the homilies, the music – written and played, the vestments...so quiet, so bare if these gifts of God were denied. Yet what harm is done on a daily basis by asking these gifts to hide in that closet or to be good little boys and girls and don't make any trouble? We make the music, we write the songs and sew the linens, we even preach in some places…but don't get too uppity…don't be thinking about a long term monogamous relationship being blessed in the church and heaven forbid that we might have the sacrament of Holy Matrimony performed…and then of course, don't forget the celibacy vow we must take if we are called to serve God in God's church.

We are children of God…but definitely children of a lesser god…according to many.

Truly, this is spiritual abuse.

So, no…we are not to hide in a closet – not for any reason, ever. We are not to play the victim for sure! We cannot stifle our gifts from God simply because some people are not comfortable with us. We cannot wait any longer. Bishop Iker of this Episcopal Diocese told someone that I liked to create furor. I can think of few higher compliments for someone trying to follow Jesus. I think that creating furor is exactly what we are called to do in this Church. Jesus did. Jesus questioned the rules that excluded some over others. Can we do less? Will it cost us? Yes, it costs a lot. Yet it is the cloak that we have been given to wear. We cannot set it aside or cast it off. It is part of the gift.

Our role is that of protector…prophet…as a Child of the Light so that others might know us by that very Light – so that others may see their own way by that Light.

The church needs us. It needs our gifts.

We need the church. We need to share our gifts.

We need the gifts that the Church has to offer.

We need our youth – gay and straight alike. They are the gifts of the present and of the future.

The Church needs this future.

It is time to "Sing to the Lord a new song"…because the one that has been sung for too long is hate-filled. And as the Gifts of God, it is up to us to teach the church how to sing this new song!

Amen

What She Said!

2009-07-11T08:56:00.003-05:00

I have to share just a couple of my thoughts about this General Convention. Just a couple.

I, like others who are getting a bit worried about this church we claim, am feeding a bit on the anxiety caused by the bishops who seem to be pontificating and posturing. I am fearful that they will not be guided by the Holy Spirit; rather, I fear that they will put far too much into what the Archbishop said.

The Archbishop has an agenda.

The bishops seems to have an agenda.

So do I.

While I know that Christianity is a religion that began with martyrdom and continues throughout that same idea, I know many people, myself included, who are kind of tired of BEING sacrificed for the sake of unity.

If I choose to die for my belief in my God, MY belief in Jesus, well then, that is my choice. But when YOU decide to sacrifice me on that unholy altar of unity, that could be called a crime in the secular world if literally carried out.

So, bishops, how about this? How about you work at something different since this sacrificing humans thing was sort of given up a long time ago -- how about if you actually work at including me and so many thousands more? You worry about the numbers in the church. It does not take a rocket scientist to realize that if we open up our doors ALL THE WAY to the LGBT people seeking spiritual homes, our numbers might increase hugely!!

Why not try it?

While you are thinking about it which I know the millions who read this blog have to be doing simply because I said so, go to http://www.episcopalchurch.org/79901_112351_ENG_HTM.htm and watch http://walkingwithintegrity.blogspot.com/ because I am sure that another article about What She Said will appear soon.

Meanwhile, imagine a House of Bishops full of people like Barbara Harris!

“Time to Face the Change”

2009-07-02T10:46:00.003-05:00

I am changing.

Every day there is something different. I don't think this is a new thing. I just believe it is something that I am beginning to more clearly recognize.

I haven't been very faithful to this blog as of late. I haven't been very faithful to any writing actually. That is one thing that is changing.

There was a reason why I backed out of going to General Convention. I had all sorts of excuses, each and every one of them valid. Regardless of those excuses, there was a more important one.

I believe that this Church cannot be the primary focus of my life right now. I will definitely follow what is going on at General Convention and on a few blogs. I may even say something now and again. But it cannot be my focus. There are plenty of talented writers who are out there blogging their hearts out…my rant does not need to be added.

I don't think I clearly understood why I should not be at GC 09 although there were lots of little reasons why not. I just knew that I could not do it. Our friend David, inadvertently or Spirit-led helped me find that clarity. I think the thing that bothered me most was being a part of something and not being able to finish it. That is what happened to me with Fort Worth and the changes there. Now here it is again with my final months with Integrity – just not being able to be at GC to be a part of the major work that will be done there by people of Integrity. Although I was a bit anxious about not being there, I am ok now.

So, faithful friends and occasional readers, I will not be posting very often for a while. During the time of General Convention, I am going to do two things very deliberately: 1) Pray without ceasing for all the deputies, all the bishops and all those whose well being depend upon the decisions coming out of Anaheim. I will pray that these decision makers will open their hearts to the Holy Spirit and let her guide, push, prod them into understanding and enlightenment, whatever that may be. I will pray that each and every deputy and bishop fully realizes the impact that this diminishing church has on the rest of the world. And I will pray for them to understand that LGBT people are watching and waiting anxiously for a chance to be full members of this so called body of Christ. It will continue to be a so called body of Christ until all persons are welcomed. 2) I will work on the manuscript that has been sitting idle in my computer. Taking the wonderful suggestions of my friend Liz, over the next three weeks, I will whittle this unwieldy tome into something that is worthy of being published.

I think that I have my work cut out for me. While I will not be busy at GC, I will be busy here doing the work that has been given me to do. It may not be the magnitude of the work being done at GC but it is my work and I know that it is important.

Be safe. Be well. Love one another. Pray.

I'll be around…just gotta get some things done. Catch you later, alligator!

Oh My Goodness…The Audacity…

2009-06-07T22:40:00.001-05:00

Judge Sonia Sotomayor had the unmitigated gall ( in 2001) to suggest that a "wise Latina woman with the richness of her experiences would more often than not reach a better conclusion than a white male who hasn't lived that life". The nerve…the chutzpah…the cajones (which actually means "drawers" in Spanish).

Oh, my, how dare she offer the idea that a Latina woman – wise or otherwise – might have a better take on a situation simply because of everything she is – a Latina and wise because of her experience – than a male who is privileged simply by the fact that not only is he male but he is white.

If I had a vote, which I don't because who I am not, after all…simply a common person who would never have the money to run for any type of office…IF I had a vote, Judge Sonia Sotomayor would have it simply because she had the unmitigated nerve to speak the truth out loud and proud.

Shame on President Barack Obama who should, by the simple fact that he is a man of color and supposedly understands oppression, for trying to "defuse some of the tension" by stating that her statement was a poor choice of words.

Not to piss off every white male I know and love, but, come on…oppression makes people look at life from a different perspective. It just does. Ask any woman…any woman of color…any Latina…

Can we really claim racism here? Or just honesty?

Let's be honest. For a change.

http://www.nytimes.com/2009/05/15/us/15judge.html

http://voices.washingtonpost.com/44/2009/05/29/white_house_calls_sotomayor_co.html

No More Seasons of Waiting

2009-06-04T12:25:00.002-05:00

I would like to ask all those who suggest that some of us wait “for a season” to do the same. How convenient it is for “distinguished theologians” to ask us plain old gays, lesbians, families and friends to wait for a season as they determine our worth, our dignity, our love. They are labeled “distinguished” as we are labeled queer and sinners. They wax philosophically from their throne on high while our children suffer the taunts and abuse of those who justify the hate by the Church’s stance on “homosexuality”. People are hunted down and beaten simply because they are gay – and the “distinguished theologians” want two more years to talk about their ideas on same sex marriage and blessings. Is this what is meant by the sins of the fathers being visited upon the children???

Approximately three years ago , our newly elected Presiding Bishop (who happens to be a woman), asked the gay and lesbian part of the Episcopal Church to hang on for “a season” as we entered into the time of the BO33 stench in hopes that it would lead to a more positive time at Lambeth. What positive affect BO33 had on anything can hardly be determined simply because those who were already in the process of schisming continued on with their schismatic actions. But the negative effect can easily be measured. It can be measured in each and every gay and lesbian Episcopalian couples’ life together…and their children’s…and even in the lives of all those who love them.

Now we are once again being asked to abide for “a season” – this season to last two years. Who cares what the names of the people are on the committee? Who cares if any of them are gay or lesbian? Not me. It matters not a whit to me.

What matters to me is that they still cannot make up their “distinguished” minds. Perhaps the question is so simple that these learned ones, these great thinkers are not able to understand the child-like language – What part of respecting the dignity every human do they not understand? Perhaps it is the word dignity…if dignity means the innate right to respect and ethical treatment, wouldn’t dignity of every human who is baptized be a part of the sharing in the sacraments -- ALL the sacraments, not just one or two?

And in 2011…what then? Are we to be asked one more time to wait “for a season?” Rather than gays and lesbians waiting any longer - or women or people of all other colors than white - how about all of you who claim so "distinguished" role of judging wait until judgment day to let your opinion be known?

Meanwhile, for all the rest of us, I suggest that everyone go find their copy of “Why We Can’t Wait” by the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Don’t wait any longer – go…NOW.

[for more information regarding the source of this waiting, please go to http://www.episcopalcafe.com/lead/bishops/secret_theology_committee_stud.html and to http://inchatatime.blogspot.com/2009/06/update-on-closeted-committee-ghosts-of.html]

Enticer or Enticed?

2009-06-04T10:54:00.001-05:00

So many important things are going on in the world at this time…world? Heck, I can't keep up with the country, much less the world! But so many things are happening – good and bad and anxiety fed.

It seems that I get a lot of my news from what is currently causing a ruckus on the House of Bishops and Deputies listserv or on Facebook. A couple of sure things that will always get a good boil going are same sex marriage (aka gay rights/justice) and abortion.

Times of stress and anxiety are not new to the world. These things are historical and basically just a part of life. How we deal with our anxiety levels is the issue.

Yesterday's reading from Deuteronomy (13:1-11) gave me great pause. Not only are we cautioned to not pay attention to those who might be prophets or dream interpreters, but for those who "secretly entices" us, regardless of who these enticers might be, we are to kill them, to "stone them to death" for taking us away from God. Big sigh.

Gosh. I cannot count how many times I have turned away from God – or been turned away by the secret enticement of another (although it was so secret as to be unknown to me). It seems to me that "others" are not really to blame when I turn from God…seems like that might be more of a personal responsibility issue rather than a blame someone else. Yet, the author of this passage clearly states that the one who is enticed shall be the one to first raise the hand to start the execution of the one who enticed. Lord have mercy on Tucker the next time he forgets to do something that I have told him 500 times to do and boy oh boy will he be in trouble when I get so irritated that I totally forget God and I turn all red in the face and scream in anger at him. It is nice to know that he is the enticer and I am the enticed; he is guilty and I am not. Not. So not.

This is one of those passages that I just can't believe is the inerrant word of God. What I think is that it is the word of one who felt led to write it to try to save a group of people who seemed hell bent on straying away from what God tried so many times to make the people understand – Love God, love one another.

But typical of us – we get it wrong every day. We think that because we believe in something so strongly and with what we believe to be clarity that it is what God wants. I would bet that the most recent murder of Dr. Tiller, known as the "abortionist" doctor. The guy who murdered Dr. Tiller in the church in which he worshipped, probably thought that he was acting on the word of God – he was executing one he thought was enticing others to do wrong things. To give gay-bashers the benefit of doubt, maybe they attack, beat and even murder those they think are gay because they believe that being gay or lesbian is sinful and therefore punishable…with them as the executers of the punishment.

Not being a believer in the benefits of capital punishment, I think that there are mountains of proof that punishment, be it capital, torture or incarceration, does little to deter crime. As long as human need and greed are the motivators for committing crime, we will have crime. Being a believer in the idea that crime is an issue of public health (and therefore should be dealt with in measures that are preventative) I do not think that execution is ever a good solution. The threat of it does not keep people from committing a sin, nor does it obliterate the sin.

So, what do we do with this passage? Some group of people thought it was important and left it in. We can't just get in the habit of tossing out those passages that we don't like or with those we disagree. (all the "clobber" passages) But neither can we just accept these in the plain text of the writing. We have to know more than the words on the page.

Deuteronomy is the fifth book in the Hebrew Bible – a part of the Torah, the Pentateuch. Basically, it is the politics of Hebrew law, given to the people by Moses because he knew he would not be there to lead Israel across the Jordan – and God knows, the Hebrews needed something. Even with Moses right there all the time, they had a difficult time following.

Once upon a time a very long time ago, when I was learning to write real estate contracts, I was told by a learned mentor of mine that the more I put on paper the easier it would be for someone to get out of the contract. Well, I don't know if that truly relates to the Mosaic law or not, but Moses seems to be intent upon making certain that he covers all the bases for these people after he is gone.

To me, Moses covers so much that he leaves nothing up to free will. Follow God or die. And while that may be true, can we really follow God simply because we think we will die if we don't?

Can we kill someone because we believe that person has done something wrong, even heinous? Can we beat someone because we disagree with their beliefs? Can we stone our neighbor because her bratty kids keep throwing rocks at our door and denting it? How does "love your neighbor" fit into "stone them to death"?

Harper Collins Study Bible NRSV states that Deuteronomy is the "key" to understanding the whole Pentateuch as the "abiding revelation of God's will for the ongoing life of the covenant people." (p. 266)

Are we still a "covenant people"? Yes, we are, but we are children of the "New Covenant". That is, we are children of God who believe that "Christ has died, Christ has risen, Christ will come again." We believe that Jesus not only died for us, but rose for us and it is through his resurrection we are born again into new life, new hope eternally and forever.

We cannot "stone them to death" nor can we lift our hands in violence against one of these children of God. We cannot hurt, abuse, maim or kill those we consider gay or lesbian or abortion doctors. Nor can we hurt, abuse, maim or kill those who would do the same to gays, lesbians or abortion doctors.

What part of "Love one another" are we just not understanding? So how do we deal with these things that stress us to the point of wanting to exact revenge?

The only way we can understand these things is to know that the "enticer" is not the source of the problem. To blame that "enticer" is to ignore the fact that there is only one thing over which we have control – ourselves. To think that we have no control over our own thoughts, words and deeds is to walk fully outside the circle of love. God holds the power of forgiveness but first we have to stop blaming other when we react to their actions. To allow ourselves to act in retaliation is to be enticed and that sin does not belong to another…only to us.

Herstory retold

2009-05-30T10:44:00.002-05:00

I was born and raised with 60 miles of Fort Worth, Texas. My family lineage shows that at least two different lines of it came to Texas in the early 1800s. I am a sixth generation Texan. While I detest much of the politics of the past few decades of Texas government and what has passed as the Episcopal Church, I am proud to be a Texan and love the wild nature and natural diversity of the State.

I came into the Episcopal Church via the Diocese of Fort Worth in 1986. As I came to realize how I did not fit into that narrow idea of church, I found an opportunity to become a part of Integrity. Because of that, I attended General Convention '06. It was there that I found the real Episcopal Church.

I live now in Saint Louis, Missouri, in the Episcopal Diocese of Missouri. While Saint Louis has many problems, it is a beautiful place. Although it is a bit cold far too long for this thin Texas blood, it has been exciting to see four seasons and the absolute beauty of flowers in late summer. Who knew that grass could be green in August?

I came to Saint Louis for one reason – in this diocese, there would be no discernment restrictions placed upon me due to the fact that I am a woman and lesbian in a long term relationship. This does not mean that I would be automatically accepted in a discernment process; rather, it meant only that I would not be automatically denied simply because of these two things. One of the few problems that I have with this diocese is that so many of the people in the church have no idea what it means to live in a despotic diocese – even though Springfield borders this diocese. But then, how could know?

I have worked and worshipped at Christ Church Cathedral Saint Louis for a bit over one year. Fully involved in the community, my discernment committee has been called, we have had a first meeting and I now have this help I need to walk with me on this part of the journey as together we attempt to understand how God is calling me.

As a part of my discernment, I made the decision not to attend General Convention in Anaheim this year. I had been scheduled to work with Integrity during the entire two weeks. While I know this was the right decision for me to make, there is the reality that I will miss it more and more as its time nears.

So, over the next few weeks, I hope to dedicate this blog to an awareness of the problems that still exist in far too many places. Gays, lesbians and women are basically "safe" here in the Diocese of Missouri (at least from a church aspect) but that cannot be said in other places. It is time to change. That cannot be done by sitting still and quiet.

Since there is no need whatsoever in re-creating the wheel, I suggest that those interested go to my sister Elizabeth's blog where she is currently reliving "herstory".

I cried. And then I cried more when I next read this part. Most especially when I read this particular quote: "My ordination will not be complete until everyone who is called to stand where I am privileged to stand is allowed to pursue their vocation - no matter their race, ethnicity, gender, age, socio-economic class or sexual orientation."

I know where Elizabeth Kaeton stands. And I am thankful to have her standing beside me.

Can't help but think...

2009-05-29T22:28:00.002-05:00

silly dinks....

http://fwepiscopal.org/news/responsetolawsuit.html

I signed the Dallas Principles

2009-05-23T08:48:00.002-05:00

From http://www.thedallasprinciples.org/The_Dallas_Principles/Home.html

THE DALLAS PRINCIPLES

PREAMBLE

President Obama and Congress pledged to lead America in a new direction that included civil rights for lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender Americans. We now sit at a great moment in our history that inspires the nation to return to its highest ideals and greatest promise. We face a historic opportunity to obtain our full civil rights; this is the moment for change. No delay. No excuses.

Nearly forty years ago, a diverse group of lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender people stood up to injustice at the Stonewall Inn in New York City. In doing so, they submitted themselves to bodily harm and criminal prosecution. Their demand was simple – equal protection under the law.

Still today, full civil rights has eluded the same community that rioted forty years ago. Instead, untold sums of resources have been spent to divide our nation and turn our lives into a political football.

At several junctures in American history, the stars have aligned to deliver the promise of equal protection under the law to those previously denied. At this unique time in history, our nation must once again exercise the great tradition of making its people equal. Justice has too long been delayed. A clear path toward full civil equality for the LGBT community is overdue and must come now.

Using fear and misunderstanding to justify discrimination is no longer acceptable in this nation. Those content with the way things are will be judged harshly by history. Those who do not actively advance these ideals or offer excuses will be judged just as harshly. Those who attempt to divide our community or to delay and deny action on civil equality, waiting for the right moment to arrive, will be held accountable. We reject the idea that honoring the founding principles of our country is controversial.

We believe in the inherent human dignity of all people. No longer will we submit our children, our family, our friends and ourselves as a political tool for any Party or ideology. A new day has arrived.

PRINCIPLES

The following eight guiding principles underlie our call to action. In order to achieve full civil rights now, we avow:

Full civil rights for lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender individuals must be enacted now. Delay and excuses are no longer acceptable.
We will not leave any part of our community behind.
Separate is never equal.

4. Religious beliefs are not a basis upon which to affirm or deny civil rights.

5. The establishment and guardianship of full civil rights is a non-partisan issue.

6. Individual involvement and grassroots action are paramount to success and must be encouraged.

7. Success is measured by the civil rights we all achieve, not by words, access or money raised.

8. Those who seek our support are expected to commit to these principles.

FULL CIVIL RIGHTS GOALS

Being united by common principles and engaging in united action, we will achieve the following goals:

1. DIGNITY AND EQUALITY. Every lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender person has inherent dignity and worth, and has the right to live free of discrimination and harassment.

2. FAMILY. Every LGBT person has the right to a family without legal barriers to immigration, civil marriage or raising children.

3. ECONOMIC OPPORTUNITY. Every LGBT person has the right to economic opportunity free from discrimination in employment, public housing, accommodation, public facilities, credit, and federally funded programs and activities.

4. EDUCATION. Every LGBT child and youth has the right to an education that is affirming, inclusive and free from bullying.

5. NATIONAL SECURITY. Every LGBT person should have the opportunity to serve our country openly and equally in our military and foreign service.

6. CRIME. Every LGBT person should enjoy life protected against bias crimes.

7. HEALTH CARE. Every person should have access to affordable, high quality, and culturally competent health care without discrimination.

CALL TO ACTION

1. We demand that government officials act now to achieve full civil rights without delay.

2. Our organizations and individuals need to develop a collaborative and revolutionary new organizing model that mobilizes millions of supporters through emerging web and phone technologies.

3. All LGBT individuals must accept personal responsibility to do everything within their power for equality and should get involved in the movement by volunteering, giving and being out.

4. We will hold elected officials and our organizations accountable for being transparent and achieving full civil rights by active participation when possible and active opposition when necessary.

5. Our allies need to be proactive in public support for full civil rights.

6. Every government measure that quantifies the US citizenry must permit LGBT individuals to self-identify and be counted in every way citizens are counted.

7. We demand that the media present LGBT lives in fair, accurate and objective ways that neither include nor give credence to unsubstantiated, discriminatory claims and opinions.

An Appearance of Wisdom

2009-05-08T14:59:00.001-05:00

Tucker is one of those types of kids that drive some adults crazy…me, being one of them. He has to touch everything, turn every knob, open every drawer, push every button, open anything that is closed (funny how he never closes anything that is opened though…). He has been that way all of his life. We thought that he would grow out of it as he got older. Here he is at 13 and nothing is sacred to him, most of all, those things that irritate me.

He has no need of personal space so he has absolutely no understanding of those who do. In fact, he is often wounded by those who demand that he back off just a little bit. Reminders do little but quell the momentary action. As soon as a parental back is turned, fingers go to fiddling with whatever is there. We have to hide the pens that we really like because if he has one of them for more than a couple of minutes, the clip is broken off or it is taken apart with all the insides disappearing.

It really is a chore trying to curtail these actions. When he was little, we tried for a little while the hands in pockets trick while we were in a store. Well, the only thing that happened with that was us saying every few minutes, "hands in your pockets!" We became the irritants rather than him. Within moments of any entry we made into any store, the shoppers and workers alike knew Tucker's name.

One of the biggest problems that he has in school is that his teachers are constantly saying, "Tucker…", "Tucker…" for one thing or a dozen. Soon the other students in the class pick up on it and it becomes a "Tucker did it…" type of blame game whether he actually did anything or not.

So, Thursday morning, while reading the Daily Office, this popped out at me. In fact, it screamed.

"If with Christ you died to the elemental spirits of the universe, why do you live as if you still belonged to the world? Why do you submit to regulations, Do not handle, Do not taste, Do not touch? All these regulations refer to things that perish with use, they are simply human commands and teachings. These have indeed an appearance of wisdom in promoting self-imposed piety, humility, and severe treatment of the body, but they are of no value in checking self-indulgence." Colossians 2:20 - 22

When I read it, I immediately thought of this child of ours to whom rules and regulations mean very little.

Tucker is by no means the only child I know who is like this. I think it is safe to say by looking at the statistics on Attention Deficit Disorder and Hyperactivity that we, as a nation, are in the process of bringing up a really large number of these children. But I wonder how many of these kids are truly "disordered"?

Maybe, as the author of Colossians points out, we should question our own actions. Just what we are doing by labeling our children as disordered. Perhaps it is not something that is wrong with them…perhaps it is merely "an appearance of wisdom" on our part.

For if we do claim to be "with Christ" how do we continue to live a life of human regulations that possibly inhibit the Spirit from working with us? Our rules of do not, do not, do not, are human commands and teachings. Do these rules matter to God or in living our lives to the glory of God?

There are several layers to this concern: If we want to go with the idea that these children are "disordered" then why so many? What have we done to create this "disorder"? What is in our environment, our food, our clothes, our water that could cause such vast numbers of attention deficit children? Supposedly, approximately 2 million children in the US have been diagnosed with ADHD.

And if there are that many, what does that mean in terms of how we deal with them? Do we medicate them or not? What if they are not really ADHD; rather, what if they are kinesthetic learners who have need of gross motor movement in order to learn best? There is a fine line in distinguishing the difference between ADHD and a learning style. It is estimated that 15% of the population are kinesthetic learners.

What are we willing to do to our children to make them mind? Are we prepared to subject them to "severe treatment of the body"…for what is a mind altering drug but a severe treatment? Yes, these drugs do help in many cases of ADHD but at what cost? Further, the drugs are just band aids, dealing with the symptoms rather than the cause. What is the cause? Or even more importantly, what is the real problem?

We want life to be simple. I can't see that it ever has been so, not even in the nostalgic era of the 50's – James Dean and Tennessee Williams are just two examples of the angst that existed in some. Life is not simple. It is fast and harried and in the midst of all the rush rush, lonely. We want answers and quick fixes. We want solutions that cause the least amount of worry and pain.

What are we willing to accept for our children for the sake of expediency?

For whose quality of life are we most concerned?

Might we be called into an analysis of our own way of dealing with certain things? Might it be a time when we are called into changing our own ways?

I Am The Good Shepherd

2009-05-05T08:48:00.001-05:00

Yesterday was Good Shepherd Sunday. "I am the good shepherd" the Gospel of John tells us. "The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep." John 10:11.

Long ago, or at least what seems like long ago, I wrote about a different type of shepherd. Actually it was more of a "Woe to the shepherds who destroy and scatter my sheep" type of thing. (Jeremiah 23) I remember so many Good Shepherd Sundays in the past where I sat in the congregation feeling as though I did not belong, wondering why I continued to subject myself to the misery of sermons that seemed hell-bent on casting me aside if not totally out.

Life is so different today. On this Good Shepherd Sunday, surrounded by the Glory of God and clergy who I do believe love all of us, basking in the success of a fun-filled parish event, it was easy to hear the words of the Gospel.

I actually attended two services yesterday. I often do simply because there is a commitment to work in one and the other is a choice I make. The first sermon was preached by our new provost, the Very Rev. Mike Kinman. As I sat listening to this man that I had watched from so far away when I was in Fort Worth, I was filled with a sense of righteousness – an understanding of how unjust was the condition of my life in church before I came here. The difference shows between those hired to do a job and those who do it because they love it. I am not afraid of being cast aside, tossed out or left alone to fend for myself. I know that there are people to whom I can turn.

The second service sermon had two bishops in it – the Rt. Rev. George Wayne Smith, the tenth bishop of Missouri and a major reason why we even came to St. Louis in the first place and the Rt. Rev Greg Rickel, the eighth bishop of Olympia. Bishop Rickel was here as the guest preacher for the 117^th Flower Sunday of the Diocese of Missouri. He is also a presenter for Climate Project. Debbie, Tucker and I met him two years ago when he was the rector of St. James in Austin TX. We were there near the time of our anniversary and he was the very first clergy to give us a blessing. It surprised me how emotional that moment was and he holds a special place in my heart for that.

One of the points that Bishop Rickel made that stuck with me was the idea that shepherds do not lead – most often they follow behind. My first thought was that shepherds herd; that is, they direct. Yet thinking on it some, rather than "herding" my thoughts turned to the idea that they follow behind the sheep so that they can tend to any straggler. I know that this is the actuality of "herding" however, it is more than that. From behind, they can more easily see those who are struggling to keep up, those who wander off a bit or those who just head in a totally different direction. It is a sense of watching and protecting rather than just directing. Many can direct; fewer care to watch and protect.

I have found a "safe" place here in the Diocese of Missouri. For me, this is a place that I know there are certain people who care about the direction my life is heading. Not only do they care but they nurture me. And to what good? Why do they do this? Simply because they believe that it is the Holy Spirit working in me, in them, in this place. And they seek to follow the Good Shepherd by imitation.

Holy Days and Spaces

2009-04-10T10:45:00.004-05:00

This Holy Week has been one for my long term memory collection. From the excitement of Jesus' entry into Jerusalem, to "Hosanna: the Sequel "on Monday, anguish at the "keening of the women" as we read Katie's "Women of the Passion, a Journey to the Cross" on Tuesday, to Wednesday evening's shared meal, to last night's call not only to let one wash my feet but also to wash another's and then to the stripping of the altar making it into an empty tomb, this week has been full of the expected and the unexpected. Many moments stand out as exceptional ones. Of the unexpected, two moments and one thought are haunting me.

On Wednesday evening, a small group of us – twelve to be exact – met in the Nave of Christ Church to share a meal together. It was very informal. I had made a huge loaf of bread. As I made the bread, it never occurred to me that it would be held up to God, blessed and broken as Jesus might have broken that bread so long ago. It was a profound moment wherein the holiness that I always knew existed in the making and sharing of bread came into full light. I have to say I will never bake another loaf without that visual in my head.

During that same meal, as we were gathered together at that long table, there was a certain seriousness because we knew what we were doing, what we were emulating. Yet, 'life its ownself' took over many times and the conversation would spontaneously erupt and there would be laughter. I think this also must have occurred at that last supper that Jesus and his followers shared together. During our meal, as the timbre and volume of our group rose and fell, I had small flashes of perception. This was what happened then. Jesus was trying to give insight as to what was to come. They would all be serious for a few moments as they listened and tried to grasp his message but then conversation would gently turn from the serious to the way of conversation when family and friends gather together, regardless of the reason for the gathering. We are no different. We would have understood and misunderstood the same things as did the disciples. We would have tried and failed. The saga continues.

Last night we attended the Maundy Thursday service. I did not want to do the foot washing thing. No phobias, nor hang-ups. I just did not want to do it. Worn from the previous days or maybe fearful of the emotion I knew I was about to feel, I do not know. But, first as I heard the Gospel reading and then Mike Kinman's sermon, it became one of those things that I could not not do. To allow another to wash our feet, that private part of us that even the most brazen of us are often unwilling to share with another, is to open ourselves up to the fullness of truly sharing our love for one another. To wash another's feet is to give that same gift. As Mike noted, to open ourselves to that degree is to put ourselves in a fully vulnerable place.

A woman washed my feet. I do not know who she was although her face was familiar. She was so gentle, as if I would break, as if I was fragile, precious, and yes, irreplaceable. When it came my turn to wash another's, I tried to emulate that action of love that she gave to me.

During this whole week, my mom has been close on my mind and heart. She and so many others in Fort Worth (and other dioceses) are displaced from their physical buildings as they grow their faith communities in women's club, civic centers, schools and other borrowed or rented places. I know that many are experiencing a sadness that they are not in the familiar and known places of Holy Weeks in the past.

Yet, perhaps they are actually closer to the reality of that day so long ago than are we as we watch from our permanent pews as the tomb is prepared.

This stripping of the altar, no, not just the stripping but the actual removal of all things connected with our crucified and risen Christ, this does not happen just on a Maundy Thursday in Holy Week for them but each and every Sunday since having left their familiar and beloved buildings of community worship.

Each Sunday, they prepare a temporary Holy space. Then each Sunday, they prepare an empty space. What they do, intended or otherwise, encapsulates a holiness that is profound in its necessity.

A friend of mine warned me about being too busy; that if I was, I might not have the empty holes in my life through which I can see how God is leading me. Maybe this idea fits here also. Rather than too busy, perhaps necessity and inconvenience leads us into a new comprehension of how and where God is leading us. With the familiar comes a rote understanding, good and necessary yet not always open to change.

I perceive the sadness from several people in Fort Worth as they lament the road they have had to travel as they feel poignantly the loss of the material. A hole has been created in their lives. Yet it is in this hole, through this hole, that they might come into a closer vision of what it is that they are doing each week as they break down these precious tokens that we use to share this meal together in remembrance of Jesus.

My mom had already mentioned a couple of times to me the new understanding of Altar Guild that many of them were experiencing. I am sure this is happening in many places were Episcopalians have found themselves locked out of their places of worship. Suddenly, rather than a Sacristy or a closet, the Altar Guild is working from a car trunk. While tedious, I am sure, there must be a renewed reverence for these special tools used in the sharing of Holy Eucharist. The lack of a permanent building, the hope for a return to the old and familiar – these are also opportunities for a renewed reverence for a space of worship. Wherever we are gathered to praise God, to remember, to worship is Holy. There is definitely a sense of the Holy from my point of view as far as what these Faith Communities are doing, what they have endured and what will be in the future for them. There is a strong sense of re-memory, of what came before to bring us to this new place.

The lesson for me is this: Life is precious. All other things are fluff. The building I work and worship in each week and each Sunday, is temporary regardless of its age. The vision of the crucifixion, the tomb and the glorious Resurrection are in my memory forever, regardless of where I am physically. The holes that I create during my moments of stillness, silence and even inconvenience and necessity are opportunities for me to see more of what God has placed before me to see.

My thoughts and prayers are especially with all who are in these temporary spaces. May you find the "holes" of holiness in these spaces. May those of us who, in the comfort of our material, understand the temporary and the permanent.

Fear is the god of the National Organization for Marriage

2009-04-08T07:12:00.009-05:00

Excerpts from the Rev. Susan Russell's blog:

"Here's the national radio campaign launching tomorrow from the "National Organization for Marriage" -- in response to Iowa and Vermont:

Click here to listen

Do not -- I repeat -- DO NOT underestimate the capacity of those who believe they have sole possession the Absolute Truth to tell whatever lies they need to to acheive their goals."

Hate and Fear are strong emotions. There are some people who are so afraid and so filled with hate for lesbian and gay people that they will stop at absolutely nothing to break us down and put us away.

We cannot merely sit here reading our blogs and podcasts, shaking our heads in amazement or nodding our heads in agreement. We have to act.

As long as the church wibble-wobbles on this issue, so will the rest of our world. That is why it is VITAL that Integrity be at Anaheim fully prepared to wrestle this issue into oblivion.

We cannot continue to meekly say, "in a few years" or "for our children"...the time is NOW. We will never be considered equal as long as we are willing to step down from the steps that lead us to equality.

Funny thing - when the church gets involved in an issue deemed by others as "secular" suddenly the issue takes on a whole 'nother level of meaning. It becomes an issue of justice rather than a "right".

Let us move this "issue" fully into the realm of "Justice".

Stand up. Shout out. Give money. Donate time. Talk to your neighbors. As a person of faith, write your congresspeople. As an Episcopalian, take your bishop and deputies out for coffee or lunch.

Do something. Now.

It is as serious as saving a life. Maybe yours...or maybe the one so filled with fear.

Happy Birthday, AbbyCat!!!!!

2009-04-05T18:18:00.005-05:00

One of the things that has most affected us as we live here in St. Louis is being away from our family - in particular, for me, being away from our grandchildren.

Beginning in April, we have birthdays for very special people - Abby in April, Tucker and Caleb in May, Kyleigh in June and Kason in July. Today is Abby's 5th birthday. It is also the second birthday that we have now missed.

Today, for your birthday, sweet Abby, we went to a rally. It was a rally to ask the government of Missouri to make sure that take care of all the special people in Missouri, little girls and boys like you, Caleb, Kyleigh and Kason. The rally was called "Rally for a Compassionate Missouri Budget." The government is trying to say that there isn't enough money to pay for healthcare for kids, grandmoms and pops and people who have disabilities. The state government thinks that special people are not worth spending money on.

Deda, Tucker and I think this is sad. All we can say is that they must not have special people in their lives like you. They must not know what it is like to miss their little granddaughter's 5th birthday.

So, Abby, we tried to do something good on your birthday.

Happy Birthday, AbbyCat!!!!!

We love you very much!
Noni, Deda and Tucker

Anyone reading this who lives in Missouri, check out http://compassionatemissouribudget.blogspot.com/. Let's do something about this!

Willie Loberta Beasley b. March 28, 1908

2009-03-28T15:12:00.001-05:00

I feel a bit nostalgic today. It is cold, rainy and four inches of snow predicted…just perfect to realize how far away from home I am on this late March day. Today is my grandmother's birthday. She died July 17, 1998. It messes with my mind to think it has been 10 ½ years since she left this world.

Born outside of Wainwright Oklahoma just months after Oklahoma became a state, she was an awesome person. She lived a "hard knock life" but bounced back every time. She moved into the Crazy Water Hotel in Mineral Wells, Texas when she was around 85. Although she wanted to be close to family, she was sort of afraid to move there because a "bunch of old people lived there." She thought that being around young people kept her young. And she was probably right. But she never did get old. They all loved her and her being there probably made them all younger. She made people laugh.

I remember clearly the day she broke her hip. She sat down. That was all. The chair was a little bit lower than she thought it was and she plopped. I can remember the way she looked at me and then stuck out her tongue at me when I laughed. Then she laughed. But we found out a little while later that her hip was broken and that was the only time we could trace it back.

She was so funny. She told the stories about me so many times that I seriously cannot remember if the memories are mine or if these just consist of her story about the incident. They feel like mine but it is impossible to tell.

She and my poppy married when my mom was twelve, I think. He loved me unconditionally. He loved my grandmother the same way. I used to think that Mamaw loved me so much because he did.

My memories of summer are tied up with them. I don't know if it is real or not but it seems like I spent a great deal of time with them during the summer.

I still have quilts that she made. There was always a quilting frame hanging from the ceiling in the spare bedroom. I kept quilt pieces that she had cut out and ready to make into another quilt. One day, maybe I will learn how to do it and make the one she started.

A picture of her bowling (at the age of 80 something) sits on my dresser. Not long ago, Mom gave me a locket that belonged to her. I still have an old overnight case – I kept it because it smelled like her for the longest time. I haven't been able to make myself throw it away yet but I doubt it will make the next move with us. I keep my jewelry in a little case that was hers. And I have her sewing machine.

She came to me the night she died. I know she did. At two in the morning, I sat bolt upright, knowing full well that I felt someone put a hand on my leg. I sat very still, listening, scared at first. But then a feeling of peace and love came over me. I lay back down and just before I fell asleep, I thought of her. Mom called early the next morning to tell me that she had left us.

She had a hard life, as many people born in the early part of the 1900's did. But she was tough…and gentle. I loved to hear her laugh. We had a strong, strange bond between us. She always knew when I needed to hear her voice; and I always called just when she needed me to also. Or so it seemed.

I could go on about her for a while. But I will stop now with a Happy Birthday, Mamaw.

And one more link about it all

2009-03-21T21:53:00.001-05:00

Check out the Rev. Susan Russell's blog about preoccupation and repentance.

Now…See What I Mean?

2009-03-20T13:39:00.001-05:00

Wouldn't you know that right after I post that last blog, I go to Walking with Integrity site and in the list, there is Bishop Marc Andrus. So, in all fairness to my recent gripe, check out his blog - "Pastoral on the Economy 2".

I do want to see more "economic justice" stuff acted upon - an active sense of doing rather than just saying.

Find Bishop Marc's blog here .

The Royal “We”

2009-03-20T12:27:00.001-05:00

The House of Bishops…bless their hearts. I know that they mean well. I really believe that. And they do a great job for the most part, I am sure of that. But, gosh…sometimes, the things that they come up with in their pastoral statements just slap me in the face.

The line that struck me this particular time was from their most recent meeting at the Kanuga Camp and Conference Center. In it, they recognize in this economic crisis "an invitation into a deeper simplicity, a tightening of the belt, an expanded Lenten fast, and a broader generosity."

Now I know what they mean. They are not necessarily talking to me (that comes in the next line). They are talking to those who have not lived in any terms deemed simple and have an ever expanding penchant for more. They are suggesting to those who give up some small excess for a short period of time that making a life change would be better. They are asking us to be more like the widow with her mites. They could be talking totally about themselves.

Actually I agree with all of that. And I am trying to live into all of it. We have been living on an economic edge for a while now. That is not brag; it is just a fact. Some think it foolish. Hell, sometimes, I think it is extremely foolish and I can guarantee you that it is tiresome and exacting. Nonetheless, it is where we are. It isn't as though I am doing without. I have plenty of food; the bills are paid, we are clothed; gas is in the car…so what's the problem?

I am not suggesting that all people should or even could do this. But it is hard to hear the bishops inviting me into a leaner time when I view them from my position on this economic ladder.

Here is where the next line of their statement comes in to play: "God's abundant mercy and forgiveness meet and embrace us, waiting to empower us through the Holy Spirit to face the coming days."

This line speaks directly to me. "God's abundant mercy and forgiveness meet and embrace us" – me, in particular, right now as I write. God knows I need it because God knows what is in my heart but is not coming out fully onto this virtual sheet.

It is sort of like talking to a woman priest about the process of discernment and she "pastorally" states – "well, not everyone is called into the priesthood."

I know what she means. But that is not the way it comes across. And I never say, "Easy for you to say from your present position." But I think it.

It is sort of like Barbara Bush after the flooding catastrophe in NOLA from sub-par levees overtaxed by Katrina, when she attempted to find a positive note within the outpouring of guilty blood money from a negligent government by stating that this, "was working out nicely" for some. We all knew what she meant. But it sounded really crass and stupid.

A bishop who is well off, fat or sleek, driving a newer vehicle, living in a home where several could live … you catch my drift? My human element goes into hyper-mode. It hardly matters where they might have been once upon a time – it only matters about now, in this time.

I know far more "good" bishops than I do less than good ones, just people trying to live into their weird calling. And I am quite certain that most of them give abundantly from that elevated (perceived or otherwise) status. But when this group uses the royal "we" to say "we" need to live more simply, tighten the belt, take on Lent for more than just a season and give more, it is like swallowing a chunk of meat…I just can't do it. I balk even knowing that it is not me that they are speaking to particularly. Still, I want to ask belligerently – live more simply how? Give up my car? My old blankets, sheets or towels? Give up buying someone else's cast off clothes at Goodwill and just be happy with what I have? TIghten my belt more? What belt? Change my life even more than I have?

The 'me' inside that "we" wants to say – put up or shut up. Show me the money. You do it first… or after me…or beside me…just do it. Don't talk. Act.

And then…"God's abundant mercy and forgiveness meet and embrace us" scrolls across my mind's eye and I know…yes, I know…it is not about me. It is not even about them. It is about each one of us living into our own understanding of what God is calling us to do. I am where I am because of my understanding of what God was/is calling me to do. And I will continue to strive for a clearer understanding, even as the odds continue to line up against me and so many others in regards to finding work. And they are where they are because of their own understanding and part of that concept includes offering pastoral letters after they meet as a group.

These times are tough – far tougher for some than for others. Of course, it is all levels of the middle class that are affected most dramatically. For those who have nothing, little can be taken away. Those who live from paycheck to paycheck that are in danger of suddenly losing it all. Seniors and children are the at risk, as is always the case. And yes, those with larger than average incomes are being affected too. Those with the most have less now…but, jeez, sell a car or two. But, it is dangerous to play the 'my hurt is bigger than your hurt' game. Very dangerous.

It is with that I know as sure as I know my daughter's green eyes or Tucker's rapidly changing voice or my sweet Debbie's touch on my shoulder – I know that I have come this far trying to live into that understanding of God's will for me and I will not be kicked out at the corner unless there is something there for me to do. I am certain that what I need will be made available as that need comes into existence. The rest is just fluff.

Meanwhile, I will work on the human element thing – mine not theirs.

Marching to Anaheim

2009-03-16T14:20:00.003-05:00

Hildegard of Bingen, Visionary 17 September 1179

2009-03-13T12:13:00.002-05:00

Not her day at all...nor mine either. But I think she has a message for me today.

"Listen: there was once a king sitting on his throne. Around him stood great and wonderfully beautiful columns ornamented with ivory, bearing the banners of the king with great honor. Then it pleased the king to raise a small feather from the ground, and he commanded it to fly. The feather flew, not because of anything in itself but because the air bore it along. Thus am I, a feather on the breath of God."

I forget sometimes...the feather is nothing without the ruach.

Clouded Judgment

2009-03-06T15:44:00.001-06:00

I planned to make time for reflection, meditation and silence during this Lenten Season. I thought I would try harder to listen.

Rather, to this point, it has been filled with non-stop activity. Coming out of Shrove Tuesday Pancake Supper success, I headed straight into the planning of an event for May – an event for which planning began far too late and with no funds.

Then there is planning for a Fish Fry…and praying over the Stations of the Cross – a very special one written by Katie Sherrod. If you have not read it or participated in it, the book is called "Women of the Passion A Journey to the Cross." It is available through Amazon.

Plus, Integrity. I have neglected my duties as a regional vice president for Integrity terribly. So many things left undone right in this time where so much needs to be done. By the way, have you contributed to the Anaheim Appeal? It is vitally urgent.

Add to all of that, a tween soon to be teen in the throes of puberty. May God have mercy on him and us.

Sundays are rush, rush full of work. Hardly worshipful, much less reflective or meditative. Were it not for moments of Morning Prayer or the twice per week Noonday Prayer, I do not know that God would get more than a very brief offering.

Last evening, in an attempt to fulfill a commitment made, I did attend a Taize Evening Prayer, although I missed the first fifteen minutes. In that small area, with a cappella chants, candles, icons and almost quiet, the vision of anchoress, monk, hermit, recluse crept into my mind's eye. I could feel the power of renewal…almost. Had I been alone or made certain that I had that one hour devoted to prayer, where might the Spirit have led me?

Quite a few years ago, I gave up giving up stuff for Lent. It just seemed to me to be a moot point to give up chocolate, beer or tofu burgers (already a veggie) for a set period of time. If I deemed chocolate (or other things) to be sinful enough that I need to abstain from these for 40 days, then maybe I should give these up for good. If my overindulgence was harmful, why do it at all?

Instead, I have tried to find ways in which I need to make change in my life . I thought I would refrain from over indulging in anything but I have failed miserably. I thought I would make certain I took a period of time where I read or prayed or just sat still. There is so much to do – how can I sit still?

A friend asked me just this morning what in the world was I thinking when I took on this Flower Festival. Without thinking about it, I said, "I don't think anymore; I just follow."

The answer was tossed out there nonchalantly. But thinking about it, it is sort of profound.

I don't think much anymore. I just act. If I think about all this stuff I am doing and the fact that I do not have a job, I would stop everything and act on my logic. But is anything about God logical?

Another person suggested that my enthusiasm clouded my judgment. Perhaps he is right. But judging is something that I have been trying to eliminate from my life for a long time. Maybe I am being foolish in believing that through God all things are possible. That is certainly not a logical statement. Yet, I will be an enthusiastic fool for God…not that God might think me a fool. I am not here to be a judge; I am here to be a faithful witness to God's absolutely indescribably grace and love.

Having worked in event planning for 10 years and with volunteers for more than 15, I know that there is no way on earth that the Flower Festival can be pulled off. I know that having never done a Fish Fry for public and parish that we are working against all odds for a success. The "Women of the Passion" belongs solely to the Holy Spirit so I don't have to worry about that one. My good sense tells me that the church at large and parishes in general, regardless of how "gay-friendly" they may claim to be, are just not ready to see marriage as inclusive of gays and lesbians.

Yet…

All of that (except the passion part) is about people thinking they know what things are all about. It's about them relying on their own judgment. Talk about clouded judgment… as a friend just said, "I think I might have told him to not let his judgment cloud my enthusiasm." I said, "Amen."

I am working in my church, doing the work that is set before me, rejoicing in the fellowship of the Holy Spirit, knowing that all things I do (deemed foolish or otherwise) I do for the Glory of God simply because I can. I CAN. I am allowed to do so. I am working in the church. And I am happy.

So, yes, as has happened to me so many times in the past and probably to many other people as well, I have failed miserably at what I set out to do in preparation for this period of reflection and radical change. But I, living in my clouds, realized that I am not thinking about worldly things…I am just doing the tasks that I see before me, realizing that the Spirit is working in me and around me and pray to God, through me.

All to God the Glory. All Praise to God. And as my grandmother would say – Thank you, Jesus.

Please, God, cloud my judgment always.

Katie Sherrod to Speak on Human Rights March 7th in Fort Worth

2009-02-25T14:51:00.002-06:00

Local Episcopalian, Producer, and Human Rights Advocate Katie Sherrod will present her recently produced documentary "Voices of Witness: Africa" on Saturday, March 7, at 10 a.m. in the parish hall of Trinity Episcopal Church, 3401 Bellaire Drive South in Fort Worth. The documentary features how members of the gay and lesbian community in Africa are treated (which can be brutal and sometimes lead to death) and gives light to the Christian on what social justice is truly about. Interviewed in this documentary are gay and lesbian Anglicans who have the opportunity to tell their stories. At the 2008 Lambeth Conference, a preview of this documentary was shown and received rave reviews.

"The response to this film has been so overwhelmingly positive and we've received so many requests for a second showing that we're thrilled to extend this preview to a wider audience," said the Rev. Dr. Cynthia Black, photographer of the documentary and one of the its producers.
Davis Mac-Iyalla, the Director of Changing Attitude Nigeria, who has been awarded asylum in the UK due to threats made against him because of his sexual orientation, says, "This project reveals that there are homosexual Anglicans in Africa and it highlights the violence and inhumanity waged against them. I urge as many people as possible to come and experience this [film]."

The documentary is 30 minutes long and will be followed by an opportunity for questions and answers. This presentation is co-sponsored by Integrity Fort Worth and Brite Divinity School. There is no admission. The general public is welcomed to attend. If you have any questions concerning this event you may contact Thomas Squiers at 817-784-5132 or you may e-mail Integrity at info@integrityfortworth.org.

http://integrityfortworth.blogspot.com/2009/02/katie-sherrod-presents-voices-of.html

Life Abundant in the Desert

2009-02-16T11:48:00.002-06:00

We are living in a desert time. How appropriate is it that Lent is so near? What better way to enter into a period of discernment than to be in the throes of a wildly depressed economic time, a couple of never-ending wars, two foundational peoples trying to eradicate the other, an environmental disaster in the midst of beginning, and a world that is, at large, starving to death?

This is a lean and mean time. On the one hand, all these things are horrible and prophesy a dark death of all that we know. Not a death that will result in resurrection; rather, it is one that will result in us going down into the Pit, not because we have been cast there but because we did not heed the warnings that sprang up all around us. On the other hand, we could look at it as a time to stop, pray, discern just what we are doing wrong and how we go about affecting a change that will be life altering…in a good way.

This is my reflection. What part do I play in this journey to change?

Welcome to Easter in February!

2009-02-09T12:05:00.002-06:00

How to begin…I have written and erased at least three sentences and have put this off as I attempt to sort out this hairball of emotions. How do I put into just a few sentences all the hope and fear that is churning within me regarding this weekend of reconstituting the Episcopal Diocese of Fort Worth?

I remember attending the Special Convention called by then bishop Jack Leo Iker in September 2003. The events of that day are burned into my memory. The special convention was called due to the actions of General Convention '03. As we all know well, Gene Robinson had been called and elected by the Diocese of New Hampshire and this election was approved at General Convention by the Episcopal Church at large.

There, those who worried, fretted and argued that the fact that Gene was a gay man in a committed relationship could cause problems for the Church. However, he was elected, ironically, on the same premise as was Jack Leo Iker; that is, the people of the diocese elected him and there were no character flaws obvious to keep the deputies and bishops from approving that election. So it was.

Of course, the Diocese of Fort Worth had been angry at the main body of the Church for a while. The good bishop and most of the clergy did not believe that women should be admitted into the process of ordination. They felt it to be in opposition to the Holy Scriptures. The approval of Gene Robinson was yet one more trial to which the clergy and bishop of Fort Worth could not offer acceptance.

Had they gone about the objection in a different way, the outcome might have been different. However, from the beginning, the bishop showed such a disdain for Bishop Robinson, making fun of his name, sneering at those who disagreed with him and wittingly egging others to do the same. People in power lead by example and his example was to act in a childish, snide and diminutive way. Others followed that lead. The result was lies, lies and more lies.

The Special Convention was full of hate and misinformation with the majority of those there buying into both fully. I found myself in the full grasp of the Holy Spirit and realized with a great deal of panic that I needed to speak out against some of the fear and hate that covered the room with a putrid pall.

Giving into this Spirit that gripped me, I told her that she best be putting words in my mouth. And well she did.

I stood up at the microphone and introduced myself as a Lay Reader, volunteer on various committees and Altar Guild, mother, daughter, sister, niece, aunt, lover, friend and a Lesbian. I asked them to please look and me and let my face burn into their memories the next time that they begin to think of "homosexuals" as pedophiles, murderers, thieves and all the other horrendous analogies many by them (clergy and lay) stupidly made. I said thank you and I sat down.

One might have thought that it would have made a difference. Maybe it did to a few. But immediately the next person began speaking and it was fairly obvious that those whose minds were set in stone would not be moved. The hate and rage grew from there.

This Special Convention called by the Presiding Bishop to elect a Provisional Bishop and to reconstitute the Episcopal Diocese of Fort Worth was very different than that other Special Convention.

Joy-filled, joyful, unbridled and even a bit rowdy – all these words could be used to describe the atmosphere there. I likened the atmosphere to the image of people coming up out of a dark dungeon and for the first time in a very long while seeing the sunlight. As their eyes adjusted to the light, the joy at being released from the darkness just could not be bound up by Robert's Rules of Order.

So, is the problem solved? No. Jack Iker may have been the one to blame for many (most) of the problems but he was not alone.

Will the problem right itself? It will, with God's help and with a whole lot of work by the people of the Diocese.

Everything is not now perfect in Fort Worth. But it is a whole lot better than it used to be! I still have to sort out all my emotional entanglement between Fort Worth and Missouri. But I am working on it and I think I already have the answer. Fort Worth will always be home but Missouri is where we are called to be at this time. Here we will stay until God directs us in another direction.

Meanwhile in Fort Worth, as several people said, "Welcome to Easter in February!"

Thanks be to GOD! Alleluia Alleluia!

For my friends in Fort Worth

2009-02-09T11:54:00.000-06:00

From today's Daily Office:

oremus Bible Browser : Isaiah 58:1-12:

Isaiah 58:1-12

58 Shout out, do not hold back!
Lift up your voice like a trumpet!
Announce to my people their rebellion,
to the house of Jacob their sins.
2 Yet day after day they seek me
and delight to know my ways,
as if they were a nation that practised righteousness
and did not forsake the ordinance of their God;
they ask of me righteous judgements,
they delight to draw near to God.
3 ‘Why do we fast, but you do not see?
Why humble ourselves, but you do not notice?’
Look, you serve your own interest on your fast-day,
and oppress all your workers.
4 Look, you fast only to quarrel and to fight
and to strike with a wicked fist.
Such fasting as you do today
will not make your voice heard on high.
5 Is such the fast that I choose,
a day to humble oneself?
Is it to bow down the head like a bulrush,
and to lie in sackcloth and ashes?
Will you call this a fast,
a day acceptable to the Lord?

6 Is not this the fast that I choose:
to loose the bonds of injustice,
to undo the thongs of the yoke,
to let the oppressed go free,
and to break every yoke?
7 Is it not to share your bread with the hungry,
and bring the homeless poor into your house;
when you see the naked, to cover them,
and not to hide yourself from your own kin?
8 Then your light shall break forth like the dawn,
and your healing shall spring up quickly;
your vindicator* shall go before you,
the glory of the Lord shall be your rearguard.
9 Then you shall call, and the Lord will answer;
you shall cry for help, and he will say, Here I am."

What is this?

2009-01-30T22:24:00.002-06:00

It is so obvious that people just did not get it. The Hebrews had wandered and watched for years and years waiting, waiting, for their messiah. Moses and Abraham tried to get them ready. Still, they wanted kings to tell them how to live, how to love, how to be. So, David came along, a beloved son but not THE son. Even David, as loved as he was, did not understand how to fully be as God intended him to be. So many kings; so few answers – at least, so few answers that made anyone happy.

So, here comes this young girl, this Mary. Into her keeping was given a new child, born of a woman yet not of man, Jesus, this child born of a virgin teen. Reading the synoptic gospels, one learns little of this special child – he was born, he was revered, he was blessed and then we are catapulted into his ‘tween years when began to teach at the age of twelve. Everyone was amazed at his knowledge.

Then suddenly, Jesus is a man spreading the message, “Follow me”. The idea of ‘do unto others’ and ‘love one another’ communicated numerous times. Miracle after miracle, healing after healing, water into wine, raising the dead, curing the sick, feeding the thousands, the touching of his cloak, the speaking only of words of faith – so many instances to show how special was this guy Jesus. Still, just as often we read the amazed exclamation, “What is this?” The people just couldn’t get the answer that they wanted.

Had we access to the Infancy Gospel of Thomas , might we have looked at this exceptional child differently? Might we believe that he, in and of himself, was a miracle child in his own right? Might it cause us to believe more strongly, more fully in the holiness of this child born of Mary?

Or would we do as was done – would the reality that his truth acted upon and spoken to the powers that be would too much to allow this ‘divine human’ to live?

Maybe they did get it. Perhaps the question, “What is this? A new teaching – with Authority!” was merely rhetorical. In all truth, perhaps it was more of an exclamation at his audacity to challenge those who had been presumed to hold authority. This child, this young man, this carpenter’s son from Nazareth was so audacious as to sound as though he knew more than the scribes and teachers, the authorities? Impudence, pure and simple!

We are so divided as a Christian community about who Jesus the Christ is and was. That is not necessarily a bad thing – it is just something that we need to understand. It might help us to answer that question, “What is this?”

Some think the virgin birth is so important, vital even. To others, it is all about the crucified Jesus, the pain, the agony, the betrayal, the suffering endured for all of us who are so unworthy.

To others, the resurrected Christ is the main thing – with Christ resurrected, there is hope in the idea that one day when our bodies stop working here on this earth we will continue life forever in heaven above.

Then there are those who put their priorities in that in between life of Jesus – the God made flesh living and breathing Jesus who walked among us.

So what is this man, Jesus? Audacious, certainly. The very idea of him was audacious from the beginning in that if the conception was immaculate and the birth of a virgin mother, then it was a miracle. The risk that the young girl, Mary took could have cost her life. Yet Joseph paid heed to his dreams. Both Mary and Joseph risked much by the tossing of tradition to follow what they believed to be God's call to them.

The young boy, Jesus, in the Infancy gospel, impudent as he spoke to his elders, rude and disrespectful many would claim, could easily have caused his parents to be run out of town.

Jesus, the man, defied those powers-that-be who presumed authority to talk of a new covenant, a new way which really wasn’t a new way at all; rather it was just the way that God had told of all along but everyone was too stubborn and selfish to follow. Jesus said it another way – actually showing signs – healing, loving, curing, praying, teaching, feeding – proof that he was not an ordinary type of guy. Finally, he gave up himself for an ideal. Whose? To prove God right or to prove the "authorities" wrong?

He died. Audacious not on his own but by the very punishment – so strict and extreme for someone who had only pissed off the “authority”. How he, his miracles, his words and actions must have frightened those who had long led the Hebrew people! How dare he be so audacious!

And then the resurrection. Again…audacious. That they would go to all that trouble and attempts to shame him to have him disappear! And then the news that he was alive! Resurrected?

So what is this? Who is this guy?

To me…the virgin birth…well, I do believe it but I don’t think it would matter if I didn’t. Whether or not I believe doesn’t change the actuality of anything. But I don’t think it matters. It just isn’t the most important part.

And while the resurrection is really important if one is a Christian, well, I just sort of take that as a promise and go on.

The important part to me is the Jesus who people followed…all over the place…and obviously for many miles and willing to stay as long as he was willing to speak. This is the part of him to which we need to be paying attention.

What is this that people were so willing to give up everything and to follow him? If we come up with this answer, maybe we will finally understand…maybe we will finally get it.

Sharing My Fear

2009-01-27T09:13:00.002-06:00

I have found a new blog thanks to a friend in Montreal. It is called the Cassandra Pages and its author is the same Elizabeth Adams who wrote Going to Heaven: The Life and Election of Bishop Gene Robinson.

In the few pieces I read, I felt my own thoughts and fears bouncing back at me from her words.

These things that are wrong with this country are not over simply because we elected a man of color. My worry is that it took the possibility of an old white man dying in office and leaving behind a fundamentalist white woman with little sense of how anything works much less politics to elect a person of color. We cannot ever forget or even deny that fear of women helped catapult Barack Obama into the Democratic Party nomination. In this case, it was fear of an intelligent woman. That is even more frightening than a less than intelligent woman or even more scary than a black man.

No, we are not even close to being done in this struggle against the isms.

So, I share this blog with you. I hope that some of the posts bring tears to your eyes as well.
http://www.cassandrapages.com/the_cassandra_pages/

Hope Shines

2009-01-26T08:48:00.004-06:00

My Christian Education Report for the annual Parish Meeting began with these sentences: “It is my thought that a parish grows in two ways: 1) through social outreach, 2) through its Christian Education program. Sadly, when a parish is in trouble, these are too often the first programs to suffer cuts.” I went on to describe some of the things that we worked on in Christian Education for Youth and Children this past year.

The theme for the year continues to be “Building up from the Chief Cornerstone” based on the Psalm 118, in particular verse 22: “The stone that the builders rejected has become the chief cornerstone.”

Prophetic? Psychic?

No, just experience. I have been in the Episcopal Church long enough to know that when parishes get in trouble financially there are two things that get cut first in hopes that things will get better before cutting more. Those two things are as I stated – Christian Education and Outreach. In that Outreach is not a line item budget at this parish, the only thing left (on my list) was Christian Education. In this particular case, my job.

Actually, I was far from alone – all the part time jobs were eliminated – six of us to be exact – six people whose lives were altered on one level or another. Although it is simple to reduce it to just numbers, these are people whose lives have been changed because a community could not figure out how to act as a community. The jobs mattered financially to all of us. Yet, we became dispensable – in fact, we became the extra weight that had to be tossed out of the boat because it begins to sink in the turbulent waters and winds. “Peace, be still.” “Why are you afraid?” (Gospel reading for Friday, the day we found out about the cuts. Mark 4:39-40)

I heard it said that those making the decision thought it would be easier to find volunteers to help with Christian Education than it would be to find volunteers willing to clean toilets. This is almost funny.

While these job cuts may not be seen as a good thing, it is certainly not an anomaly. The weight that is considered a dispensable is being tossed out across the Episcopal Church right now. It began at least six months ago as the stock market began crashing.

This is the first time I have ever been associated with a church that has such potential to be really large. Most of the parishes to which we belonged have been closer to 100 ASA. Certainly none of these have lived on endowments. We have gone through many bake sales and rummage sales to raise money for the general fund. The Stewardship campaigns at these little parishes were always long and drawn out and very intense. If nothing else, people gave more just to get the speakers to hush. It was always sort of like the membership drives on the local public radio station. Either hunker down and wait it out or give into the guilt for enjoying the gifts that public radio brings. Actually, I don’t think it is a bad idea to draw it out like that. Obviously, it works. Why would we expect less from our stewardship drives? Is there not far more at stake in our parishes?

So what is the problem? Why does this happen? I think to answer those questions we have to ask more. Why do we go to church, after all? Why do we give or why do we not give? And if a parish does depend upon endowments, what do these do to a giving body? What do these “gifts” take away from the community at large?

What I see here is a segregated community – too many unconnected compartments. There is too much individualism and far too little communication between the compartments. The one conduit that links all is extremely overloaded. Although the word has been for some time now that economically the parish was in serious trouble, it seemed to come as a surprise to most that staff cuts would be necessary. I find this strange but totally in keeping with the lack of communication and compartmentalization. Who knew? How can we be a community if we don't work together?

I also realize in hindsight that I was just a bit prophetic at the beginning of this job by choosing as the theme Psalm 118 and tying it into community building. The theme is based in the idea that each group of kids, J2A, Rite 13, Godly Play 1 & 2, nursery are all little communities within the larger community of Christian Education which is just one piece of the larger community of Christ Church.

The Chief Cornerstone is, of course, Jesus but added to that is the responsibility of each member of the church to be a positive part of every child of the Cathedral simply because of the vow we all renew every time a new member is baptized into the body of Christ – I will, with God’s help. We will, with God’s help, be living witnesses to these children of God’s steadfast love. We do not act as witnesses when we consider one part more important than the other. We do not act as witnesses when clean toliets become more important than our children's Christian Education.

Can it be said that we can be defined by those things for which we are willing to pay?

Nonetheless, while this is rather painful personally and I am distressed about the others who lost their positions, I feel a certain lifting of something…not a burden necessarily…but something. And whatever that feeling is, it makes me feel hopeful.

I did not come to this place because of this job, regardless of how much I liked it. We are here because we were led here. Whatever this job was, it was not the be-all, end-all. It was just a passing thing. It is in this hope that I understand that I can remain on as a leader in the Christian Education department, at least until the end of the school year albeit in a reduced way. I can continue to put forth the idea that we are One in the Body of Christ and we show that by building up our community.

It is in this hope that I realize something I need to know lies just around a corner and I will understand it when I need to do so. And it is in that hope that Debbie and I can both be witnesses to God’s steadfast love, staying in a place where too many have run away in anger and in hurt. Our staying and keeping on with the work that is in front of us, as faithful witnesses, as members of this community speaks much louder than the jobs that we had here.

I think that what I feel is a light shining from within me. And it feels warm and good.

I want to keep it glowing.

The hope also shines that this community may be willing to work together for a change.

Where there is hope, there is light, indeed.

Inauguration Day 2009

2009-01-20T19:03:00.003-06:00

The reflection below is one I gave today at Christ Church Cathedral, St. Louis, MO. The verse cited are from the Daily Office lectionary and can be found at: http://bible.oremus.org/?passage=Isaiah+44:9-20 and http://bible.oremus.org/?passage=Ephesians+4:17-32

*************************************************************************
I am so proud to be here today, a part of this historic wonderful day. As I watched the first Inauguration ceremony, "We are One" on Sunday evening, I began grinning foolishly. A friend emailed me and asked, "Is this really happening?"

It is an amazing thing to think about – yes, it is really happening. There is so much Hope…I am filled with it. I see it in the faces of all who surround me. It is alive and breathing.

And it is smiling.

But there is a certain fear that lives just under the surface of the hope.

As I read these readings for today, it became more clear to me how that fear was growing and why.

Isaiah speaks to the idea of all that we, as humans, are capable of making and doing. The blacksmith takes a piece of iron and shapes it in the fire into something useful or beautiful. The carpenter, out a piece of dead wood, fashions a thing of beauty, even to the point of human likeness. Yet the tool or art that the blacksmith makes cannot feed him; it cannot save him. That which the carpenter makes may look like a human but it cannot be compared to the "image of God". We can plant trees, water and nurture these and they are useful to us and these are good. But these are not gods. These are not God. Just because these things are useful or beautiful, these material objects cannot save us. We cannot make these things, neither the art or the artisan, into idols.

Paul speaks to the Ephesians, warning them about living "in the futility of their minds." Basically, they think too much of themselves rather than of others. He worries that their hearts are hardened and that they are distancing themselves from God because of this ignorance and loss of sensitivity.

I love the next part – "Be angry but do not sin." Paul talks about a righteous anger, born of a desire to see justice and righteousness prevail – where our lust for dishonesty, pettiness and greed are set aside and we realize that we understand we are clothed in our new selves, created by God in that image of righteousness and holiness.

Today is the day that we watch as the 44th President of the United States of America is sworn in to this elected office. It is a historic day. It is a day when the people of the United States show the rest of the world that we want to change. We want change so radically that we did something few people thought we would ever do. We put aside our idol of bigotry, our ignorance and pettiness and elected the first African American to the highest office in our country.

We set aside racism, an evil that haunts us still and exists within every nook and cranny of these United States. Yet in spite of our bigotry, the citizens of this country became angry enough to speak truth to the power and say – the greed has become a stench…this is too much; we have strayed from that image of righteousness and holiness.

Even if it is only for a moment that racism is overcome, it is a beginning. Through Barack and Michele Obama and their two little girls, America will see into the lives of a world we never thought we would witness. And it will make a difference. It will make a difference.

But we have to take care. Barack Obama is just a man. Right now, we think he is very useful and very beautiful. We see his righteousness; we may even declare it holy. We even believe that he can help turn the tide of anger against the US so that people do not hate us.

But he is just a man. This is not his to do alone. Nor can he do it alone.

We have given him – he has given us - the tool to begin the work. We gave him our vote – he offered himself – not as a living sacrifice but as a leader who can lead us into a way that is right and just.

This does not mean that the people of the US are done. It is up to us to erase the idols of bigotry – of racism, sexism, heterosexism, classism and all the other isms we can name. While he is working from the Oval Office, we have to work on the streets, in our homes, at our work and in our church.

We must remember Paul's words to the Ephesians – Be angry but do not sin. Be angry at the injustices that have brought us to this place – injustices we have allowed by our neglect, our silence, our desire to just get along. But do not sin.

Do not let the sun go down on our anger – act so that as the sun sets, we can look back at the day and say, this is what I did today and it is good.

We must remember the lesson about the idols – do not make graven images and neither can we make humans into gods.

President elect Obama is our leader…that means he is not alone. We are behind him.

We must be willing and active participants in this thing we proudly hail as Democracy.

Wow

2009-01-20T18:48:00.002-06:00

While watching the Inauguration Ceremonies on the big screen in the Nave of the Cathedral, I saw a sign. It said simply Wow. No exclamation. No wild and wiggly lines. Just Wow.

Wow. In its seemingly understated way, that Wow said everything.

January 20, 2009, Inauguration Day, started at the Cathedral on Saturday afternoon, January 17. The staff had already set up the big screen and put it off to the side where it could wait patiently until it was time to put it to use. By Sunday afternoon, because of some special people, the projector, converter, antenna, sound and lights were figured out, plugged in and ready to go.

On Tuesday morning, we arrived bright and early and made sure everything was still set. People began filing in, one by one. By 9 am, even with the cold and the bit of snow, we had 37 people joining in for the prayer service. It was a wonder-filled service complete with a joy-filled hope.

The televised Inaugural Service was no less amazing. Some had to return to work but more came in until there were at least 52 people in the Cathedral watching in anticipation. If it was remarkable for no other reason, being able to witness in community the fact that there were hundreds of thousands of people gathered in, on and around the Mall in Washington, D.C. was nothing short of phenomenal. What pain must a nation, even a world, be in to pay homage to one small human being?

Throughout the day, people wandered in to watch the parade, to sit and pray, to just sit and dare to hope. Some were our neighbors seeking shelter from the 20+ degree cold; others were people from downtown. Perhaps the light that comes from hope was beaming through our open doors!
As we watched this event unfold, holding our breath in fear, trying to keep our hope in check simply because this one small human is just that – a human – still, I felt that peace that passes all understanding as it wrapped itself around me like a protective cloak. Even though things may get tougher for a while, we are headed in the right direction.

I think that the same can be said for the Cathedral at this time, also. Even though I know that things are going to get very personal and tough for a time being, I think that we are heading in a Godly direction.

As with this nation, so it is with us in this community – “All manner of things will be well.”

Wow.

Obsessed

2009-01-12T19:07:00.006-06:00

I do not have a degree in psychiatry, however, I recognize certain obsessive tendencies when I see these.

For some reason Play Misty for Me comes to mind. Don't now why...it just does. I am also reminded of the anorexic commercials of Calvin Klein (I think) for the cologne Obsession. When we become so obsessed with an idea, how healthy can that be?

At first I laughed when I read the letter just as I laughed out loud when I read his statement that the Presiding Bishop of the Episcopal Church holds no authority over him. So, why in the world does he care if she comes to Fort Worth or not? Does he REALLY think that he is still the bishop of the Episcopal Diocese of Fort Worth? Really? Seriously...

Jack, move on, son. You got what you wanted...go with it. Be the bishop of all Fort Worth (except for that part over which you are not) and forget about all the hidden gas lease money that is not nor ever was yours. Live in honesty for a change. Let go of those things that truly do not matter - just as those faith communities have now done and are doing. What a jubilation and release to be free of the shackles that once bound them!

Learn from them, Jack...move on. Otherwise, someone is gonna start thinking you are a little psychotic.

found at http://estanimalegis.blogspot.com/2009/01/what.html

Song of Peace

2009-01-06T12:32:00.003-06:00

How wonderful would it be if Zion was redeemed through its love of God and for all of God's people that all might see the salvation of our God?

From today's Daily Office:

Isaiah 52:7-10

7How beautiful upon the mountains
are the feet of the messenger who announces peace,
who brings good news,
who announces salvation,
who says to Zion, ‘Your God reigns.’

8Listen! Your sentinels lift up their voices,
together they sing for joy;
for in plain sight they see
the return of the Lord to Zion.

9Break forth together into singing,
you ruins of Jerusalem;
for the Lord has comforted his people,
he has redeemed Jerusalem.

10The Lord has bared his holy arm
before the eyes of all the nations;
and all the ends of the earth shall see
the salvation of our God.

They will know we are Christians by our love.

2009-01-04T19:02:00.002-06:00

I feel so inept…as war rages across the world and especially right now in Gaza, I watch as Israel attempts to annihilate all those they suspect of being “terrorists” within the confines of Gaza. Of course, along with the “terrorists” many civilians have also been killed. Leaders throughout history call this “collateral damage”.

If one expresses concern about Palestinians in general or the ongoing battle in Gaza, it is automatically assumed that one is anti-Israel. Being pro-Palestinian does not make me anti-Israeli; in fact, I remember the stories of David Ben-Gurion well. I loved Leon Uris and his tales of the struggle for a homeland for a people that no one wanted. This people may have been chosen by God but the rest of the world did not want them within their own land. While I am definitely not for the tactics used by the Israeli government to control the land of Palestine and its people, I am just as definitely not pro-Hamas. But no one ever asks me that and they actually assume that if I am one, then I am the other.

However, I also know that it is fairly impossible to try to understand the anger within the prison known as the Gaza Strip. How many generations of children have now been born under the domination of the Israeli war machine? Israel guards on one side enforcing a never ending blockade while Egypt sits quietly but just as forcefully on the other side with all their empty talk. What frustration must build each day as one attempts to live within the oppression of checkpoints and concrete walls laced with barbwire, too little employment and too much poverty. I doubt that many white U.S. born citizens could even come close to understanding the idea that these Palestinians, Muslim and Christian alike, are an oppressed group of people simply because they are Palestinians in a land now occupied and controlled by Israel.

What lesson is taught when a child throws a rock and an adult retaliates with gun fire? Even if we revert to the idea of “an eye for an eye”, the thought that retaliation or “preemptive” behavior might cure the problem is very frightening. Of course, this type of thinking is a product of our “right to bear arms” so that we can protect our own limited mentality. I have read the bumper stickers that proclaim that “guns don’t kill, people do.” My own creativity leads me to this – “Guns don’t kill people, idiots do but take the guns away from the idiots and maybe people won’t die from being shot.”

When our oldest son was first driving, I chastised him for driving too closely to a person on a bicycle. He exclaimed that he wasn’t doing anything wrong, that the guy on the bike was on the wrong side. I reminded him that it wouldn’t matter too much who was wrong if he, as a 16 year old killed a person on a bike. Does it matter who is right and who is wrong when people are dying? Will retaliation ever “fix” the problem of disagreement?

Who cares who threw the first bomb? Does it matter, especially if we look at it from a public health issue? Do we worry about punishing the offenders or fixing the problem that causes the concern? Which is easier – send in the F-16s, the tanks, the bulldozers or find a way to work hand in hand, side by side so that both Palestinians and Israelis (Muslims, Christians and Jews) can share the common heritage of their father Abraham? Who are the victims here?

Others can live in a world controlled by the fears brought on by reading Revelation to John. As for me, I will live in the idea that Jesus told us not to be afraid and to love one another. That is a far bigger concern to me today. And with that concern, I say unapologetically that I believe that Israel has many sins for which they will one day answer. There is the Augustinian idea of Just War. One could easily state that is why the Palestinians are fighting. Some may say that Israel has the right to defend its borders but my question is this…Which border?

And Christmas Continues

2008-12-31T12:03:00.001-06:00

When we first began attending Trinity Episcopal parish across the street from the Texas Christian University campus, it never occurred to us that we might actually become a part of a “family” there. We were hiding, needing a church community but unable to attend our once beloved little parish on the west side of Fort Worth. We needed a place to lick our wounds and heal in seclusion, without interference, yet in the midst. Trinity was large enough to disappear within yet offered a smaller “folk” service where we did not feel totally lost.

It took us some time to realize that we had become a part of this family. Tucker being accepted as a part of the band was a big indicator. He began by just sitting with the singers, then inched his way up to the guy playing the congas so that soon he was asking if he could play after the service. After a few pointers and instructions on his behavior during the service, his natural talent and willingness to do what it took to play made him a regular.

Then there was the extra special part of it all – almost every Sunday, at least two kids and two to four grandkids filled the pew with us…in fact, we easily filled one and one-half pews when all the kids were there. There is something very special about having a family as part of one’s worship community.

All this came rushing home to both Debbie and me this past Sunday, the first one after Christmas. As we sat in the midst of this beloved service, we realized just how much we miss our “family” – both the smaller one and the larger one.

While the lay and clergy leadership of Trinity played a vital part in remaining within the Episcopal Church, the parish itself goes about its business. Had I been a visitor with no insider knowledge, I would not have known that anything controversial was going on. The service was a traditional one with the readings that Episcopal parishes all over the country used that day. Even though the reading from Paul’s letter to the Galatians had within it the verse, “But now that faith has come, we are no longer subject to a disciplinarian” and the disciplinarian of the diocese in the past is no longer a factor of discernment, the service was all about John’s declaration of “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.”

C'est la vie.

Yet underlying all the “normal” stuff, I could feel the joy…maybe not as unbridled as at the Faith Community of Good Shepherd’s on Christmas Eve night but there nonetheless. It was an undercurrent, calmly flowing across the faces of all those we greeted. Maybe it was that the tension was greatly relieved as if the relief one feels after a painful injury was healed and what remains is the realization that the pain is gone. There was a sense of wellness.

We were not able to bend our schedule enough to attend the Faith Community of St. Stephen’s in Hurst. However, I have been told that it is much the same there. Then there is the combined community of faith in Parker County – remnants from three different west Fort Worth and Parker County parishes. There are so many more and all are growing rapidly.

Of course, there is a sadness in all of these communities. A part of each one is missing. But one thing is for sure. It is not about the building regardless of what many would like us all to believe. It is about the community of faith itself.

The thing we know is sure – when the community is well and the “gall of bitterness” removed, the work of Jesus becomes a simple task.

Merry Christmas, Fort Worth

2008-12-26T22:47:00.000-06:00

The noise was the first thing that greeted us as we walked up to the Women’s Club. The open door allowed a welcoming light to beam out into the dark parking lot. What we heard from outside the building was nothing compared to the sound that enveloped us as we walked into the light. At first, with all my sensory overload problems, I was a bit taken back by it all. What was probably a good sized room for any meetings normally held there already seemed full yet more continued to come in.

Almost immediately someone recognized us and gave us all big hugs and cheerful greetings. More greetings ensued all the while the sound of the laughter and talking grew exponentially. Tired from the 12 hour drive from St. Louis to Fort Worth (and that beginning at 4 am), I worried that I would not be able to stay in the room for long.

But suddenly, the fog in my head cleared to a degree and I realized that all the sound and the people were filled with a great joy. At that realization, the sound became a symphony rather than a cacophony.

It was Joy filling the room and pushing at the seams of the building, tumbling out through the door and into the cool night air.

This was Christ Mass in a Fort Worth Episcopal parish – Good Shepherd Faith Community in Granbury, Texas – a parish that is now so much more of a community than it was when it was just down the road a ways in its stone building.

This was the joy of celebrating one-ness rather than separation; the joy that comes from focusing on Jesus rather than on selfish desires. This was not pious and self-righteous or full of condemnation for those who disagree; this was about love and sharing that love. It didn’t matter that there was no processional cross or that there were no torches. It didn’t matter that it was a little cramped trying to get to and from communion.

It mattered only that there was abundant Joy at the birth of the newborn baby – and a way to be born again.

My Fear and My Love

2008-12-12T11:52:00.002-06:00

Be my strong rock, a castle to keep me safe,

for you are my crag and my stronghold;

for the sake of your Name, lead me and guide me.

Psalm 31:3

Today’s psalm, parts of which are used as a canticle for Compline, always creates a vivid image for me as I recite the words. “My crag and my stronghold” brings to mind pictures of Mt. Everest, a cold and forbidding place that I would never want to be up close and personal.

To think of this image as I recite words spoken to God gives me pause for contemplation. Should my mind picture something so cold, so terrifying and so personally forbidding as I pray?

Climbing up the side of a huge mountain or even a hill is not something that is on my list of things to do. When I read of people climbing Mt. Everest, my first thought is that they either have a desire to tempt death or they are just nuts. Yet what is this God-desire but a mountain? We stare in awesome wonder at a creation that is beyond our imagining; beyond our earthly ability to comprehend. We crave to know it, yearn to feel it, desire to be within it as a part of it. We want to be one with it.

When I think of mountain climbing in that respect, I understand the desire to “conquer” the mountain – the quest that drives a desire so overwhelming that nothing else matters. God-desire is like that. I cringe at the thought that I might wish to “conquer” God…and truly, I don’t believe that I do want that. What would be the benefit? But I can visualize standing as a part of the God-One, wind blowing through my hair and open fingers as I rejoice at the completeness of the moment. To feel that joy racing through every fiber of my being, knowing that I am no longer me alone but God-joined…part and parcel of the One and only One…climbing to the top of that mountain must feel something like that.

As I attempt to hold fast to this “crag” I know that I cling tightly to it if for no other reason than horror that I might fall…or fail. The thing that frightens me easily becomes the thing that holds me fast. But my panic at clinging to the “stronghold” could simply freeze me into a non-action which might result in my dying. It is then, at the moment of that paralyzing fear, that I know I have to depend fully upon that “strong rock” and for that very sake let it lead me and guide me.

It is not for my sake that I do this but for the sake of that Holy name, that I might allow it to lead me and guide me into that Oneness, a relationship that I am called into. Just as a mountain climber stands at the foot of that mountain, staring up in wonder and love, knowing full well that she will go, regardless, so I stand at the foot of this God-thing knowing that it wants me as much as I want it. Regardless of the sacrifice, understanding the fear that lies ahead, it calls to me.

And I will follow.

Picture borrowed from: http://www.everestnews2004.com/everest2004/pictures/frankp-104-05-18-258%20Descente%20en%20rappel%20du%20haut%20du%202eme%20step.jpg