A Theological Reflection for Advent 3

For many adults attending church, the only Christian Formation/Education they receive is during the sermon. Our priest does this in a variety of ways. Sometimes she incorporates elements of Godly Play and Catechesis of the Good Shepherd into her sermons. Other times she does an interactive sermon, often using a form of Theological Reflection based on the methods we learn in Education for Ministry.

I got to a stuck place several times preparing my sermon for yesterday and started thinking about adapting the Godly Play Advent lessons to do with the congregation. But that got complicated in terms of what I'd need to bring and where I'd actually present it. Still contemplating my options, I looked up at the mantlepiece where I put out a few of the nativities from my collection, my eyes stopped on one that proved to be ideal for a theological reflection.

Here is what I presented to the congregation. We had some really good converstion.

I wonder what your thoughts might be?

= = = = = = = = = =

May the Words of our mouths and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable in your sight, O Lord, our strength and our redeemer. Amen.

It’s the third Sunday of Advent, and I’m preaching. It’s a tradition!

And why do I preach on the third Sunday of Advent, Tevye the Dairyman might ask? Well I’ll tell you, he would continue. I don’t know, but it’s a tradition.

For those of you who don’t know Tevye, he is the narrator and main character of the musical Fiddler on the Roof, which is based on the short stories of Sholem Aleichem. Sholem Aleichem was a contemporary of Mark Twain and came from the Ukraine region of Russia. Fiddler is the story of life in Anatevka, a shtetl, or small town in Russia, where everyone’s lives are rooted in traditions.

I had a whole sermon prepared about the traditions of Grace Church and how today’s reading from Isaiah serves as a lens for us to view those traditions. But the more I thought about it, the less it sounded like something we, including myself, needed to hear today in the middle of Advent. So I brought something from a tradition that legend says goes back to Saint Francis and was probably brought to the Americas by the Spanish. This particular one is from Peru and is called a retablo.

I’m going to pass this around, so you can all look at it, touch it, hold it, examine it. While you’re doing this, I’d like you to think about these four questions:

What is the world like here?

What can go wrong in this world?

What challenges us in this world?

What could fulfill the promise of this world?

Don’t worry about remembering them all, I’ll repeat them once you’ve all had a chance to see the piece.

What is the world like here?

What can go wrong in this world?

What challenges us in this world?

What could fulfill the promise of this world?

When we look at our modern culture, what does it how does it view this world we’ve been talking about?

Drawing from this conversation, what are some of the things we believe? What positions do we hold?

What does this mean for us when we walk out those doors and return to the world?

Heading South

I managed to pack everything in the purple knapsack. How much do I really need for two nights away from home? If I can go to Ireland for two weeks in a carry on... The only thing I ended up leaving behind that I would have liked to have brought was a crochet project. Fortunately, I have plenty to read loaded onto my Kindle. And if I forgot something important, it's not like I'm in the middle of nowhere for the next couple of days!

The shuttle arrived to pick me up at 3:40 a.m. In our family we refer to these early morning departure times as 0 Dark 30. I completed the security screening by 5:05. Then I sat and waited for my 7:00 flight to Atlanta. Fortunately, Delta has set up areas with small tables for plugging in electronic devices. So I checked email, updated Twitter/Facebook, and started today's blog post.

The flight left on time, and we arrived in Atlanta early. I think it was colder in Atlanta than it was in New York City! After a short layover, I flew to New Orleans where I met up with three other board members. We shared a van to Christ Church Cathedral where we met today and will be meeting tomorrow.

This is the first time I've been to New Orleans. Several years ago I sat on the tarmac for an hour or so on a plane bound for Houston that had been diverted due to weather. But that doesn't really count as having been to New Orleans. And I won't be seeing a lot of it this trip, since the reason for being here is the National Association for Episcopal Christian Education Directors (NAECED) board meeting. What I have seen is a city still recovering from the flooding after Hurricane Katrina. Many houses are still boarded up. Many are still being rebuilt and restored.

We are staying at the Double Tree on the edge of the French Quarter. Our annual conference will be here in February, so part of our meeting will be taken up with planning for that event. We walked about six blocks to the Oceana for dinner, which was wonderful. Good food, good conversation. We walked back on Bourbon street--noisy and lively, though not as much as it will be in a couple of months! Even so, there were a few folks standing on balconies throwing beads to tourists walking along. I now have a strand of Mardis Gras beads tossed to me on Bourbon Street in New Orleans.
It's time to turn in. It's been a long day, and tomorrow will be a full one. Sleep is a good thing.

Can You Even Call It A Marriage?

Over the past couple of days upcoming divorce of Kim Kardashian and Kris Humphries has received almost as much coverage as the pre-primary election campaigns. It's receiving about as much coverage as the wedding did. And what a wedding it was according to all the media accounts.

But was it a marriage?

Some say that the whirlwind courtship didn't allow enough time for the two to get to know each other before wedding. Male bovine droppings! I know of couples who wed less than two months after meeting and remained married for more than 40 years, until the death of one spouse. I've also known couples who dated for years before tying the not and ended up divorcing less than a year after the wedding.

No matter how long the courtship, a wedding is a social event; a marriage is a commitment. How much of a commitment did you make if you throw up your hands and toss in the towel at the first bump in the road? It takes work to make a marriage.

You may ask what I as a single man know about marriage. A single gay man at that. I spent 11 1/2 years with the same man. At that time marriage wasn't an option for lesbians and gays. But we exchanged rings, combined our households, and built a life together. We slept in the same bed right up to the very end. There are many reasons the relationship ended, and I take my share of the responsibility for its failure.

Sixteen years after we separated he is married to a man who seems to be good for him. They've made commitments, helped raise a child, and built a life together.

While I've dated off and on, I remain single. Sometimes that happens. Should the relationship come along that merited it, I would get married. Hopefully, I'd do a better job of it the second time.

But there are many individuals and groups who would deny me the legal right to marry. Because marriage is between a man and a woman. Even if it lasts only 72 days. Or Britney Spears' 55 hours. What hypocrisy!

Marriage is essentially a civil contract. It existed long before Christianity arrived on the scene. Even then, it was centuries before the church decided it should be part of the contract--primarily because church and state were hopelessly intertwined. They still are when it comes to marriage, especially in this country. Stop trying to equate civil contracts with religious belief.

It is not the church's business to enforce a civil contract. Should the church be involved in supporting the relationship of two people in a marriage? Absolutely! Bless them, provide a community of support for them, help them through the milestones of their life together.

I'm Dreaming of A White...

Well, it probably won't be a white Halloween, but it certainly is early for snow of this magnitude. They did break snow records all over the place, but that wasn't hard to do. Other places definitely got hit harder than we did here in this part of Connecticut. And I hear there was almost a foot of snow not all that far north of here.

So I can admit I was wrong. The storm was worse than predicted in some places. And in spite of all the pre-storm hype, many people were caught unaware--at least to hear the news reports.

Trees down, power outages, transportation delays, and slippery driving conditions. These are not unusual for a winter storm. Just because it's October doesn't mean we don't know how to cope with winter weather. We may not like it, but we know how to cope with it.

Well, most of us anyway.

Honestly, what is so important that you would risk your life, and the lives of others, not to mention those of emergency workers, to drive with unsafe road conditions? And if tree limbs are falling all over the place, why are you even risking going outdoors?

Sometimes I wonder if we've forgotten how to slow down. Are we so afraid of time alone or with our families that we have to be doing something not at home?

Board game anyone?

The Hype Man Cometh

IT'S COMING! IT'S COMING! don't panic. RECORD SNOWFALL EXPECTED IN THE CITY! 0.8" maybe. IT'S COMING! IT'S COMING!

Fully half the evening news focused on the coming storm, what the City (New York City) was doing to prepare, and what people were flocking to the stores to buy before the storm arrives. Can round the clock news coverage be far behind?

We've gone from the information age to the too much information age. Does a Nor'easter really merit this much news coverage? Honestly, we did just fine with "just the facts, ma'am" when I was a child. I suppose we should be grateful that it hasn't been labeled "The Storm of The Century."

Yet.

On the other hand, the impending storm has taken the media's focus off the incessant bad mannered posturing of Republican presidential wannabes.

Shawls Plus!

I planned on walking down to church this morning for the gathering of our shawl ministry, but I had extra stuff to carry and ended up driving. I'll walk down tomorrow.

I FINALLY finished two shawls I've been working on for two months--one knit and one crochet.

Pattern: Cozy Mohair Wrap: Free lace Shawl Knitting Pattern (www.abc-knitting-patterns.com/1120.html)
Knit using Size 13 needles with one+ skeins Caron Simply Soft Dark Sage

This pattern was a bit of a stretch for my knitting skills. I had to count stitches at the end of every row, and I did a lot of unknitting and picking up of dropped stitches. I learned a lot in the process.

Zig Zag Shells Stoll (patbythehook.blogdrive.com)
Crocheted using a Size K hook with three skeins of Red Heart TLC Essentials Aran. I made it a little longer than the pattern called for, and I think it turned out nicely.

My friend Rachel donated some yarn leftover from a project she completed, so I whipped up a quick cowl using an N Size hook and a pair of fingerless mitts using a J Size hook. The mitts work quickly, so I made both of them in during our gathering this morning.

When we gather our conversations meander through a many different topics. Today we talked about the fact that we don't really have a name. I've been calling it Grace's Shawl ministry on the parish web site and the parish Facebook and Twitter accounts. Given that most of our members come from Iglesia Betania and Grace Episcopal Church, and that we want to be open to anyone, we gave it some thought. Also, we're creating more than just prayer shawls. Our deacon came up with a suggestion that we all liked: Holy Needles. Brochures in Spanish and English and a listing on the Prayer Shawl Ministry site coming soon.

1600 Steps to the Library

Yesterday I arrived early for our Education for Ministry seminar at St. Paul's Fairfield. Since I hadn't yet taken my walk for the day, and I had 45 minutes before the seminar started, I walked then. Before starting out I searched my iPod for an audio book I'd downloaded. I eventually found it hidden in the Music section of the menu, but while looking I stumbled across the Fitness menu. I knew it was there, and I sort of knew what was on it, but I never really looked at it before.

It has a Pedometer. Not only does it count my steps, it records the total number for each day and tracks it on a calendar. How cool is that? All my favorite music AND a Pedometer in one nifty gizmo. I'm currently going through my music to create a walking Playlist of songs that will keep me walking at a steady pace.

So it took me 1600 steps to get to the Norwalk Library--approximately 15 minutes--this afternoon. The closest branch of my bank is probably less than 400 steps beyond that, as is the Post Office. Within that 1600-2000 step radius are also a small grocery store, a CVS Pharmacy, Dunkin Donuts, a couple of convenience stores, a laundromat, a variety of restaurants, a couple of liquor stores, H & R Block (where I get my taxes done), and the hospital. Oh, and my church. It's probably about 4000 steps to the South Norwalk train station, and I'm thinking that 5000 steps or so would probably get me to the nearest Shop Rite, Stop & Shop, and Barnes & Noble.

It's not New York City, but it is an urban area. I could really cut down on the use of my low-mileage but aging car. Not does walking help keep me fit, but it could help cut my expenses.

Now if I could find a job within a 10,000 step radius, or allowed me to work from home...

National Coming Out Day

It's hard to believe that the event that inspired National Coming Out Day occurred nearly a quarter of a century ago. The March on Washington October 11, 1987. I wanted to go but didn't, and I don't remember why not.

I do remember the debate over the number of people who did attend. The National Park Service gave a significantly lower figure than the one the organizers gave. That's a debate that followed most marches on Washington. I would guess that it is also taking place in reporting of the Occupy Wall Street movement.

Why? Because so many people see numbers as the indicator of the impact of thee kinds of events. Concrete facts leading to concrete results. But the true impact transcends facts and figures. How do you measure the impact these things have on individual lives? How do you measure transformation?

When I started Coming Out in 1980 the Wisconsin Gay Rights Bill was still a year-and-a-half away from passage, and 46 states still had sodomy statues on their books (Wisconsin wouldn't appeal theirs until after the civil rights legislation became law). The idea of legal marriage wasn't even on the horizon.

And look where we are today.

So do we still need to observe National Coming Out Day?

Yes. Discrimination still happens, just as it does for women and ethnic minorities. Because sexual orientation is not a visible characteristic, many folks still claim they know no queer folks. Over and over again legislators and religious leaders have talked about how their views have changed by hearing real stories from real people. And in spite of the digitalization of our social interactions, face to face sharing of stories still has the most impact.

Face to face sharing of stories still has the most impact. Something to remember as we consider where we go from here. In any movement.

Disruption

A few weeks ago I noticed some cracks in the ceilings in the bathroom, the kitchen and the little room. I let the management company know, and someone came to look. They came Saturday to patch, and I'm still waiting for them to come and paint.

In order to prepare, I had to clear the top of the the fridge and the high shelf in the kitchen. I also cleared the shelves and the top of the dresser in the little room. All of the stuff in the bathroom; the chairs and lamps from the little room. And everything is stacked in the only place it could go. The large room, which is my living room/bedroom.

I've tried to place stuff as neatly as possible, but it's still unsettling. I feel as if boxes and movers are showing up at any minute. As if I didn't have enough uncertainty in my life during this period of unemployment and job hunting.

These, too, shall pass.

Mittens and Cowls and Scarves, Oh My!

With a hats and ear warmers too!

When the members of Grace's Shawl Ministry talked about hats and scarves for the homeless I thought, "Aha! That piece can be a scarf!" So I finally finished the piece of knitting that was my first real knitting project in almost 40 years. Because I misunderstood the pattern, I ended up with a ribbed piece. So I put it aside and started over. Now it's finished.

If I was going to make hats and scarves, shouldn't I make gloves or mittens, too?

When I was in elementary school Mom knit a pair of green mittens for me. I managed to keep them for several years, and for many of them, a piece of red yarn patched a hole in one of the thumbs. Well, I'm not ready to knit mittens yet, so I set about looking for a pattern for crocheted mittens. There are far fewer crochet patterns for mittens, but they are out there. I finally settled on this pattern from the Red Heart site.

Since I tend to crochet tightly I usually have to use a hook that's a size or two larger than the pattern calls for. I did a swatch with the suggested hook size for this pattern, and to my surprise, I came up with a swatch that matched the pattern gauge. "I must be getting better at the tension," I thought to myself. The next project proved me wrong. I haven't adjusted my tension, but I obviously found someone who crochets like I do!

This set is done using three skeins of Red Heart Super Saver Shaded Dusk. The mittens and the hat (the first pattern on this page) are done with an I size hook. I crocheted the scarf using a size K hook and a pattern of alternating three single crochet and three half-double crochet across each row. I like the wave pattern.

Winter set #2: Cowl, headband, and mittens. The mittens are the same mitten pattern, but a smaller size, using Caron's Simply Soft Chocolate. The headband is a simple pattern of rows of single crochet done in the back loop, which makes a ribbed piece with some stretch. It's Caron's Simply Soft Paints Sunset. The cowl uses both, with the Chocolate as the main color. I did it as a mobius strip, which intrigued the group this morning. I may be teaching a crochet class!

Winter set #3. Did I mention how quickly these work up? The mittens take me a couple of evenings, the hat another, and the scarf a couple. These are made using a single Caron One Pound for all four pieces.  I like this color (Cape Cod Blue) so much that I may make some mittens for myself using it! I used a size J hook for the mittens, because the adult men's mittens using the I hook were just a shade too small for my hands. I'm trying to make a variety of sizes for both men and women that we can take to shelters or have on hand if someone comes into the office looking for warm things.

I may be making more mittens and fewer hats, as other folks have been making hats. But I also like the cowls since they can be used as a scarf or a hood. We'll see.

So here's the green scarf again. It became part of Winter set #4 with the addition of a head band done in Red Heart Super Saver Artist Print and fingerless mitts in Caron Simply Soft Chocolate.

And here are the winter sets bundled up for delivery.

Now that I know I've done mittens, there are couple of slightly more complex patterns I'd like to try. And I haven't stopped working on prayer shawls. I have three going, one of which is almost finished. The other two, well, we'll see.

Summer Birthdays

One of my circles of friends gathers for birthdays and winter holidays. Sometimes for birthdays we plan something special for the birthday person, and sometimes we just get together for dinner. Today, on the first full day of Fall, we celebrated the Summer birthdays with dinner at the recently opened Cheesecake Factory in the Danbury Fair Mall. We spent the hour wait, which we knew there would be, catching up.

This particular circle of friends also tends to exchange gifts when we celebrate birthdays. Since I've been doing a lot of crocheting lately, I decided I'd give handmade gifts this time. And rather than wait for the Hanukkah/Christmas/Solstice gathering, I figured warm gifts before the cold weather set in would be good. So here is the hat I made for Mike. It's pretty basic--half double crochet using a size I hook. I've finally figured out a way to make the seam less noticeable when I'm not using a pattern that works in the round.

This is my first cowl, which I gave to Lisa. It's a Möbius strip done in half double crochet. I used a Red Heart Super Saver color called Artist Print. I really like the way it came out. It's wide enough that it can be pulled up to be a hood, too.

And here's Lisa modeling her cowl. So much of the knitting and crocheting I've been doing for the past months has been for Grace's Shawl Ministry, so I don't really get to see what I've made on the recipient. I wasn't quick enough to get a picture of Mike with his hat on.

I already had this set aside to give to Rachel at the winter holiday gathering, but she has a couple of work-related events that will probably be before we actually have our get together. I've done this pattern before for the Prayer Shawl Ministry, but this is a single color (Caron Simply Soft Iris).  For some reason, it shows a bit more blue in the photos I took than it is in person.  This particular shawl is pretty versatile--it can even be scrunched up and worn as a scarf.

Now I need figure out what I'm going to do for the the Winter Holiday presents. I have a few ideas. I've been working on some of them, learning new techniques in several of the different crafts I dabble in. There have been some failures, but each one helps me learn.

And if nothing comes together by the Holiday gathering, there are always gift cards!

I Forgot Number 6

Another Bottom Up shawl using 1 1/2 Skein TLC Essentials Falling Leaves, a Size P Crochet Hook, and done in Double Crochet.

And this past Sunday we blessed the completed shawls. You can read about it on the Grace Episcopal Church Outreach Blog.

It’s Not a Spectator Sport

Twelfth Sunday after Pentecost

Year A Revised Common Lectionary – Proper 18

Exodus 12:1-14, Psalm 149, Romans 13:8-14, Matthew 18:15-20

Grace Episcopal Church, Norwalk, CT



May the words of my mouth and the meditations of our hearts be acceptable in your sight, O God, our strength and our redeemer. Amen.



When I first pulled the readings for this Sunday I had no clue how I was going to pull a sermon from them. The origins of a holiday that isn’t really ours, a Psalm with a dark side, Paul reiterating in his own way Jesus’ Great Commandment, and Jesus himself telling us how to do reconciliation. What do you do with those? Well, actually, you can pull several sermons out of them, but it takes some work.



Sermons are a lot like the shawls being created by the participants in Grace’s Shawl Ministry. In that ministry we’re given a set of instructions—or we find some. But being given the instructions doesn’t knit or crochet the shawl. We have to choose yarn for the shawl and obtain knitting needles or a crochet hook. And does the shawl knit or crochet itself then? Nope. We have to pick up the needles or hook, take the yarn and do the actual knitting or crocheting. After a while you have to stop staring at the reading and your notes and start writing because the sermon isn’t going to write itself.



During my recent stay at Holy Cross Monastery I was reminded that crocheting without television, radio, or social conversation can be a time of prayer and contemplation. So while I was in the contemplating the readings phase, I spent some time crocheting, and a phrase came to mind that shed some light on the readings as a group.



Life is not a spectator sport.



Let’s look at the passage from Exodus. God provided leadership for the Hebrews: Moses and Aaron. God plagued the Egyptians with several ecological disasters and was getting ready to visit one last catastrophe upon them. In preparation, God gave the Hebrews a set of very explicit instructions. But here’s the thing. In order for this whole Exodus thing to happen, the Hebrews had to participate. They couldn’t just sit there and wait for someone else to do it. They had to be an active part of their own deliverance. Otherwise, their own firstborn would have died that night. And more than that, if they hadn’t followed the instructions, packed up and followed Moses out of Egypt, they’d still be there.



We do have a similar history involving our own parish. Grace Episcopal Church was founded over 120 years ago by members St. Paul’s on the Green who were unhappy with the direction that parish was taking, such as the Anglo-Catholic reforms sweeping through England and the United States. If those folks hadn’t petitioned the Diocese to form a new parish, raised the money to build a new church, and walked down the hill to their new home, there wouldn’t be a Grace Church.



Life is not a spectator sport.



Psalm 149 starts out pleasantly enough. The people sing, dance and play instruments to praise the Lord. Then it turns to the people wreaking vengeance on others as part of God’s judgment. That’s something that makes liberal and most middle of the spectrum Christians uncomfortable. But it is in the Bible, and Psalm 149 is just one example of it. It’s not what we like to hear about God, wreaking vengeance. But God didn’t carry out His judgment alone. It is the people that have to “inflict on them the judgment decreed.” And even the worship and adoration in the first part of the psalm are about active participation. The timbrel and the harp don’t play themselves. Just ask the members of our music program!



And if we want to have a place to worship, that takes work, too. When we invited Betania to join us here in our building, they did not want to displace the Haitians, as had been done to them more than once. Instead, they refurbished the space in the Undercroft that had been our Children’s Chapel at one time. In fact, they cleaned and refurbished the whole Undercroft for the whole BetaniaGrace community.



Church is not a spectator sport.



In Paul’s day Christians expected Jesus to return at any moment. But did that mean sitting around and doing nothing? No. In today’s reading from Romans Paul tells them to put on the armor of light and live honorably. Yes, we are already forgiven and blessed by God’s grace, but that doesn’t mean sitting on our duffs and doing nothing. It means our lives should be changed in some meaningful way. And we should be DOING something.



And in Matthew’s Gospel today Jesus’ tells us that being the church in the world is not passive. Even to effect reconciliation among its own members requires doing something. Getting up and reaching out to the other person.



Christianity is not a spectator sport.



We keep wondering why people are not walking through the doors of our church, but when we walk out those doors, most of us simply go home. Times have changed. We no longer live in a society that expects church membership as a given and just being here on the corner of Mott and Union Park isn’t going to bring people through those doors.



Things aren’t going to change by us sitting on our duffs. God has given us leadership with vision. God has given us some instructions, although each of us may have different parts of them, and they certainly aren’t as clear and concise as those the Hebrews received for the Passover. One thing I do know, nothing will happen if we do not actively participate in the work of being a church. Of being Grace Episcopal Church and Iglesia Betania.



Doing something will mean not only doing those things we know how to do, it means learning how to do new things too. It’s what we do in the Shawl Ministry. Some of us have learned to knit. Some of us have learned to crochet. We’ve learned new skills in order to participate in this ministry. A ministry that reaches beyond the walls of this building.



Ministry is not a spectator sport.



My friends, our future is uncertain, as uncertain as the future the Hebrews faced when God called them out of Egypt. While we know the end of their story, they did not. They could only act on their faith. We don’t know the end of our story, but we can do no less. Act on our faith. Act.



It’s not a spectator sport.

We're Not Dead Yet

Thursday I drove up to Holy Cross Monastery for EfM Mentor training. Our time there was cut bit short by the approaching hurricane so that people who came by train could get home before the system was shut down at noon on Saturday. And the monastery closed the guest house at 2:00 p.m. that afternoon. My neighborhood weathered the storm pretty well, but even now there are many areas that still don't have power restored and others that remain, or are now being, evacuated due to flooding. Irene's effects will be with us for some time to come.

Now that Irene has come and gone and things, at least for me, have pretty much returned to normal, I've had some time to reflect on my time at Holy Cross. I enjoy spending time there. The setting is spectacular, the food excellent, and the hospitality outstanding. I also appreciate this particular mentor training because many of the same people attend every year, and I'm not the only queer person there. As intense as the training can be, it is still very much retreat time, and I come back renewed and ready to start the new year of EfM.

I drove up a little early so I could spend some quiet time at the monastery. For most of the time before training started I sat on the Great Cloister overlooking the Hudson River and worked on one of the prayer shawls. Crochet as meditation. Sometimes I forget how relaxing it can be to just sit and crochet. No TV. No radio. No conversation. Just me, the crochet, the scenery, and my thoughts and prayers.

That afternoon my thoughts drifted to Grace Episcopal Church and the ongoing conversations we've been having about our future. And I had an insight. We need to change the language we've been using in the conversations. We are not dead yet. We're not even DYING. We are STRUGGLING.

How we talk about ourselves affects the way we operate. The parish isn't ready for hospice care just yet. And while I know I need to respect the feelings of those who just wish it were over and the doors closed, I'm not sure they understand that it's more than just turning out the lights and closing the doors. Hospice care involves work. It involves not only taking care of the dying person, it also means taking care of the person's family and friends. And those caring for the patient. It is not a passive process for anyone involved.

So where does the struggle take us? I don't know. I only know that we can't go back to what we once were. Even if the church were full every Sunday and the Sunday School classrooms were bursting at the seams, we still would not be the same church we were in 1950, 1960, 1970, or even 1980. The Church has always been evolving. What we have now looks nothing like the Church of 90, 300, 1000, or 1900. The Church isn't dead yet. It's not even dying. It's just changing as it always has.

As Bishop Curry prayed with us last week: “Dear God what are you calling us to do and be in this new community?”

Knitting, Crocheting and Fluting

Last week I was over at Mom's for lunch. I did a load of laundry. We got caught up. And after lunch we sat at the table and knit. She had two projects going for Grace's Shawl Ministry, one that needed more focus and one that could be done while engaging in conversation. I was working on the shawl with the small square pattern and talked about one or two ideas I had for the next one. Mom pointed out that there was no reason I couldn't have more than one project going at a time.

Mom, you created a monster! By the time I finished the knit shawl I'd also finished the green crocheted shawl and started two others, one knit and one crochet.Once the knit one was finished, I started another knit one with a slightly more complicated pattern that I'd found online. I had to look up a couple of the stitches, but it didn't seem to be too difficult.

Wrong. First, I had to learn a new method of casting on, which took several tries. Then I had to see if I could actually do the new stitches. That actually didn't take very long. However, once I started working the actual shawl things got complicated. The alternating increases and decreases were hard for me to keep track of and end up with the same number of stitches at the end of each row of knitting. Three times I got to the seventh or ninth row and had to tear the whole thing out , and I unknit rows several times. Finally, I realized that I had to go slowly and really focus on what I was doing.

I had a similar problem with the new crocheted shawl I'd started. It isn't a difficult pattern, but I kept finding places where I'd skipped a space or added a block. While it's easier to tear out rows of crochet, it's no less frustrating. Again, I forced myself to slow down.

So this morning I was practicing my flute. I've been using M. A. Reichert's 7 Daily Exercises for Flute. My friend Jonathan recommended them and told me that they should be played slowly and musically. Given the copy I had (which I've since replaced) and the change of key every line or so, slowly is the only way I can play them, although I am improving. I also only play one during a practice session rather than all seven. And they are musical, much more interesting to play than the Taffanel Gaubert exercises. After I finished my Reichert exercise for the day, I moved on to a new Daily Exercise from Fredrick the Great's Flute Book: 100 Daily Exercises for Flute. No, I don't play all 100 daily! Since it was a new exercise, I played it through a couple of times and then began working on it measure by measure. Slowly.

I was having a little trouble with one of the runs and started to get frustrated. That's usually the signal for me to stop what I'm working on and move on to something else or end the practice session for the day. Today it sparked a realization. I get so caught up in the technical aspects of playing the instrument that I forget that the purpose is to make music. Sometimes you have to tell your inner perfectionist to go to his or her room and just play for the joy of it.

And I need to keep reminding myself that the purpose of knitting or crocheting something is to create something beautiful and/or useful. Especially when I'm learning new stitches and patterns. Especially since there are now five projects in my needlework tote.

Mr. Inner Perfectionist, go to your room!

My Rocker

I tried several different ways to photograph the first prayer shawl I made. Spreading it out on the floor didn't work. Hanging it on a hanger seemed too sterile. Laying it out on the bed got it lost on the pattern of the bedspread. Then I tried arranging it on my rocking chair. It not only felt right, it displayed the shawl to its best advantage for a picture. So the rocker became the display stand for taking pictures of the shawls.

I've had this rocker since I was 15. I remember when we went to pick it out at the unpainted furniture shop on Route 1 in Westport. I don't remember if I paid for it out of my babysitting money, or if my parents bought it for me. Either way, it sat in my room for many months before I finished it.

Finally, I picked out a stain for it and then began sanding. It's not the most intricate piece of furniture, but the turned pieces took some time to get to the smoothness that felt right. Then I stained it and sealed it.

We had another wooden rocking chair in the house. It had been made for my great-grandparents. We know this because it was signed and dated on the underside of the seat. I decided I wanted to do the same for mine, so at some point in the process I took the wood burner and put my name and the month I finished it on the underside of its seat.

The rocker has been in my home ever since, with the exception of the years I was away at college and graduate school. I've sat in it to read, crochet, pray, look out the window, and now knit, too. The plaid cushion is a relatively recent addition from a day trip I took with my friend Rees about 10 years ago. Most of the time it also has hanging over the back a prayer shawl given to me by my friend Elizabeth, a shawl/lap rug I crocheted, and a red and black alpaca wool poncho from Ecuador. And right now, my craft tote is sitting on it with the completed shawls waiting to go to church next weekend and the shawls I'm currently working on.

In our family we have an expression, "It's a knew-me." It refers to something that has been around for what seems like forever. Sometimes it's something downright ugly, like painting that hung in my grandparents' home for years. Sometimes it's beautiful, like the silver coffee and tea service that belonged to my grandmother's cousin that Mom occasionally used to serve us tea when we came home from grade school. And sometimes it's something like my chair. All of them are familiar, filled with memories, and comforting.

What are the knew-me's in your life?

Prayer Shawls Four and Five

Today I finished two more prayer shawls. The knitted one I've been working on since I finished the last one. The crocheted one I began Thursday night. To the left is the first attempt, and you can see the dropped stitch. When I tried to fix it I created a real mess and ended up tearing out about 25 rows and starting over. It also gave me a chance to correct the pattern. I made a lot of mistakes knitting this shawl, but in the process I learned quite a bit about knitting. I unknit a lot, and I picked up dropped stitches.

I got into a jam when I dropped a stitch shortly after joining the second skein. Fortunately I was visiting Mom, and she helped me get back on track. She also gave me a pair Honey's (my maternal grandmother) metal needles because she thought I might have an easier time because the yarn would slide better on them than on the bamboo needles I was using. Evidently I knit the way I crochet, tightly.

And here's the completed prayer shawl. The block pattern turned out well, if I do say so myself. I kept a tally of the rows, so I would know when to change the knit/purl sequence. Mom also gave me one of Honey's stitch counters. Now I have knitting needles and a counter from one grandmother and crochet hooks from the other.

Learning to knit continues to be an exercise in keeping my inner perfectionist locked in the basement.

I decided I didn't want to do fringe on this one. It's a tedious process. Instead I crocheted an edging on each end. I based it on one I found online, but it was pretty much of an experiment. Another learning process, which involved some tearing out and redoing.

Here's a close up of the edging, and you can also see the block pattern in more detail.

Caron Simply Soft
1 1/3 Skein
Dark Sage
Shawl - Size 13 Needles
Edging - Size K Crochet Hook

One of the things I've found working with the Simply Soft is that the shawls seem narrow. Although, these two that I've knit are within the measurements I've seen for prayer shawls. I'll be looking for patterns that are a bit wider for upcoming projects.

This is the crocheted shawl. It's a Bottom Up Shawl without Point that I found on the Crafty Beaver blog. It worked very quickly.

TLC Essentials Worsted Medium
Dark Thyme
1 1/4 Skein
Size P Crochet Hook
Double Crochet

I'm already working on shawls six, seven, and eight.

Mercury Retrograde

The Lavender Country and Folk Dancers board met today in the Northampton, MA area. Some of us went yesterday to go to the Greenfield contra dance that one of our members called last night. As it turned out, I drove from my friends' home to Greenfield by myself.

About halfway to Greenfield I realized I'd left my cell phone at my friends' house. I had a slight moment of panic. What if I got lost? What if...? It wasn't all that long ago we'd get in the car and drive for hours to get from Point A to Point B without a phone in the car. If we got lost, we found a gas station and asked directions, or at least a map. If the car broke down, we found a pay phone or flagged down a passing motorist. Of course, one of the results of the explosion of cell phone usage is that pay phones have all but disappeared.

Today I got home after the board meeting and discovered that I left my Kindle at my friends' house. A few text messages and they were able to find it, and we figured out how to they were going to get it back to me. At least I had my cell phone!

If you don't know much about astrology, the planet Mercury affects communication, technology, cars, and the like. A planet is in retrograde when it appears to be moving backward through the skies (it's really just on the other side of its orbit). And when a planet is retrograde, it affects things negatively. Especially Mercury. Things in general just seem to go wrong when Mercury is in retrograde, which happens about three times a year.

I hadn't realized Mercury was in retrograde until I saw something on Facebook this evening. Phone. Kindle. And the check engine light coming on in the car just as I got to Bridgeport on the way home.

So it might not be the influence of Mercury, but it sure seems like something or someone is having fun stacking the deck against me this year.

Prayer Shawl Number Three

This one took me less than two weeks to complete. I don't have to think quite as much when I crochet because I've been doing it a lot longer than knitting. This one is entirely half double crochet stitches using a size P hook. I used three skeins of TLC Essentials Falling Leaves. Using multi-colored yarn is always a surprise since you're never sure how the pattern will present itself in the finished piece. I think this one turned out well.

The Future of The Church?

Today another diocese, my diocese of Connecticut, announced the elimination of six positions. An additional position vacant due to retirement is also being cut. The diocese will merge some responsibilities into the new position of Canon for Mission Leadership. In the release Bishop Ian Douglas was quoted:

There is profound sadness in these cuts... We are losing faithful and dedicated colleagues who have served us all so well for many decades. We need to pray for these fine sisters and brother who are losing their jobs in these difficult economic times. At the same time these cuts represent a loss of an ideal for what the Diocese of Connecticut has been. 20th century models of the Church with big diocesan staffs providing programs from a centralized office are not the way of the future.

The eliminated positions include both the Missioner for Children & Adults and the Missioner for Youth & Young Adults. I worked with both these people during my tenure as both the Program Assistant for Children's Ministries Christian Education and Officer for Children's Ministries at the Episcopal Church Center.

The Diocese of Connecticut is not the first diocese to eliminate its Christian Formation and Education staff, and it will probably not be the last. Some of the dioceses' rationale for being able to cut Christian Formation positions was that parishes could count on the Formation staff at the Episcopal Church Center. At the same time, the Church Center has already eliminated two formation positions and put the filling of another on hold pending the newest phase of the ongoing reorganization.

Nor are dioceses the only institutions cutting formation and education staff as part of balancing their budgets. Many parishes are doing the same thing, either cutting the positions entirely or reducing them to half time. So this is the future Bishop Douglas is talking about. Fewer and fewer educators and formation leaders able to devote their full-time energies to the formation and education of Christians. More and more volunteers taking on those responsibilities. Of course, there is nothing wrong with volunteers. But where will these volunteers go for training, resources, and support with no one at the diocesan level and fewer overworked staff at the denominational headquarters to provide services for them?

This is a time of incredible change and possibility," said Bishop Douglas. "We're being invited to consider how to be the Diocese of Connecticut in new ways for the 21st Century. Our 20th Century models of diocesan staffing are no longer appropriate to this networked age, nor are they financially sustainable. This reduction in force gives us a chance to respond creatively to the changing economic and organizational realities. We are being invited to re-imagine who we are as the Episcopal Church in Connecticut and how we will come together collaboratively to serve and extend God's mission."

In the course of this re-imagination, the church basically seems to be outsourcing by default to publishing companies and non-profit organizations. To be fair, this process has been going on for more than 20 years, and not just in the Episcopal Church. But do the denominational and diocesan organizations really want to totally abandon input for Christian Formation and Education?

Unfortunately, I don't think the church knows the answer to that question. The denominational, diocesan, and parish organizations are too caught up in the immediate financial crisis to think about the long term ramifications of their decisions. Just as many of them did not think through the long term ramifications of financial and other decisions made during years of declining attendance and pledges.

One of the ways the church is attempting to deal with a changing world is to shift its focus to mission. For years we focused on ministry--the ministry of all the baptized, of every Christian. In some ways this is an attempt to emphasize the importance of community work (mission) over that of individual work (ministry). In other ways, it's trading one buzz word and fad for another.

Ultimately, however, this is not an either/or proposition. Both mission and ministry are important. Both have their roots in our Scriptures. It is both/and. But no matter which way Bishop Douglas, or the larger church structure, wants to look at it, there is no way to get street level people involved without formation and education. Unfortunately, they are eliminating from their organizations the very people who know how to reach those people, who know how to "respond creatively" and "re-imagine in the face of change."

And where does that leave the future of the church?

Reorganizing The Reorganized Reorganization

It was bound to happen, but I didn't think it would happen so soon. According to Episcopal Cafe's The Lead, the Rt. Rev. Stacy Sauls, himself recently appointed as Chief Operating Officer for the Episcopal Church Center, has appointed Sam McDonald as the new Director of Mission. You can read the full story here, but I particularly noted this from Bishop Sauls' communication with the staff:

I realize that you as the staff have been working on this for some time now. There has been a great deal of trial and error, which has not always been comfortable or felt safe.

And this:

Working for the Church should not be a spiritually damaging experience. In fact, I think it should be joyous. I don’t intend to work anywhere that isn’t, and quite frankly, I don’t think you should, either.

Maybe this time there's some hope for some positive and realistic change at the Church Center.

There is much I could write, but right now I need to sit with my thoughts. In the meantime my prayers are with my former colleagues as they enter this next phase of reorganization.

Two

After one false start, which will probably end up as a scarf, and two-and-a-half months after finishing my first one, I've finished my second shawl for the Grace Church Shawl Ministry. It is the first complete knitting project I've done since I was 11 or 12.

Knitting has an entirely different rhythm than crocheting, and each can be soothing or frustrating in its own way.

Kintted using size 13 needles and Caron Simply Soft Pagoda.

The Long And Winding Road - Living in The Question Mark

I had planned to write more posts on this series, but then I wrote the following in my sermon for last Sunday:

This week I find myself in a place where I strongly identify with Esau. Some of it has to do with being an older son, but mostly I’ve been put in the role of the metaphorical big brother over and over. I’ve watched those younger brothers and sisters receive blessings and inheritances I will not. I have seen them go places I cannot. Next year, next month, next week, or even tomorrow, I might find myself interpreting the story of Esau and Jacob differently. Neither interpretation is wrong. They are reflections of where I am in my life and how that affects the way in which I tell my story of being part of God’s creation.

It's time to move on from this series, as it is time to move on from other things.

For eight-and-a-half years I had the opportunity to work for the Episcopal Church in a number of roles as part of the Christian Formation staff. It was a unique place from which to observe the institutional church. I have seen the good, the bad, the ugly, and the beautiful. But mostly, I see an institution that I don't want to be chained to by the clerical dog collar. And quite frankly, I have a lot more power as a lay person who can work outside the hierarchy. Especially as a queer person.

What am I going to do now? I don't know. I'm still involved in Christian Formation at my parish and with the National Association for Christian Education Directors (NAECED). Professionally, it's more than likely I'll end up in an entirely different field building on "the skills to run a small third world country" (as my last boss at the Church Center commented after my position had been eliminated). In terms of ministry, I will continue doing those things that I have been doing, and I will start looking at some of those things I've felt inhibited from doing both as an employee of the institution and as an aspirant for Holy Orders.

I drew this map in March during a series on Sharing Our Stories I led at our parish. It ends with a question mark. And for now, that's where I'm living. In the question mark.

Jacob the Sneak

Fourth Sunday after Pentecost

Revised Common Lectionary Year A, Proper 10

Genesis 25:19-34

Grace Episcopal Church, Norwalk, CT

Loving God, you call us to be your stories in the world. We come before you seeking to be touched by your story. Open our lips to share our stories with one another and open our hearts to bring comfort, inspiration, joy and laughter to each other. Amen.

“Isaac loved Esau, because he was fond of game; but Rebekah loved Jacob.” Does this sound familiar? It does to me. When we were growing up Scott and I each claimed, only half jokingly, that our parents loved the other brother best. Then came the year when Scott brought Maureen up from college to meet the family, and I arrived with Brian in tow for the same reason. For many years after that the family joke was that our parents loved Maureen and Brian best.

Sibling rivalry is nothing new, and anyone with even a passing knowledge of the Bible is familiar with its stories of siblings living in the various parts of what one friend of mine calls Jesus’ big, fat, dysfunctional family tree. But how many families do you know that hang their dirty laundry out for the world to see? And yet, that is exactly what the writers and editors of the Hebrew Scriptures have done. Not in terms of Jesus, although we Christians have done enough of that in our own Scriptures and traditions, but definitely in terms of their own history. Who celebrates ancestors who are not, shall we say, the most upstanding examples of human beings, especially when measured against their own laws and traditions?

Yet those are the very stories that have been passed down and repeated through the generations. Cain the murderer; Joseph the spoiled brat; Rahab the prostitute; Sampson the lustful; David the Adulterer; Ruth the foreigner; and in today’s reading, Jacob the sneak.

A sneak? The great patriarch of Israel? The man God names Israel, the father of a nation? Well let’s look at the story.

During her particularly difficult pregnancy Rebekah goes to God to ask why. It is God, after all, who, in response to Isaac’s prayers for his barren wife, “granted his prayer, and his wife Rebekah conceived.” She asks him directly, "If it is to be this way, why do I live?" God responds by telling her that "Two nations are in your womb, and two peoples born of you shall be divided; the one shall be stronger than the other, the elder shall serve the younger."

Yet Jacob feels the need to maneuver Esau into selling the birthright due to the oldest son by tradition, even though God has already promised that Jacob is the favored child. Once again we have a younger son favored by God. What is it with the writers of Scripture and younger sons? Let me tell you, as an older son, this kind of stuff makes me nuts. On the other hand, the word games used in this story mean that it is as much about tribal rivalry as sibling rivalry. The Hebrew that describes Esau as red and hairy plays on the location and name of a neighboring tribe, the Edomites.

Ralph Milton writes:

In many tribal cultures a sense of what is right and wrong depends on who is doing what to whom. If you can [needle] someone from another tribe, that’s just fine. In fact, it’s your responsibility to do that if you can. The Israelites told with relish, how their Jacob [hoodwinked] those slow, stupid Edomites. We think it reprehensible of Jacob to cheat Esau, but the Israelites would have considered it downright traitorous not to rip off another tribe, provided you could get away with it. (http://ralphmiltonsrumors.blogspot.com/2008/07/preaching-materials-for-july-13-2008.html, as of July 8, 2011)

So here we are back to Jacob the sneak.

Why do I call him a sneak? Because, in spite of the fact that this story is probably as much about two tribes as two brothers, it’s the story of the brothers that has come down to us as Christians, not the tribal story. And there are a few pieces of the story that we aren’t even going to hear because of the way our lectionary is laid out. The part of Genesis we’ll hear next week is the story most of us know as Jacob’s Ladder. There are three, count them, three whole chapters between today’s reading and next week’s. We won’t read about famine causing Isaac to move his family a number of times and repeat many of the things that his father did. Nor will we read a few short lines about Esau’s wives. Nor the story of Esau and Jacob that we’re probably most familiar with.

And that’s where we learn just how much of a sneak Jacob can be.

Isaac, now going blind, calls Esau, his favorite son, and says, “See, I am old; I do not know the day of my death. Now then, take your weapons, your quivers and your bow, and go out to the field, and hunt game for me. Then prepare for me savory food, such as I like, and bring it to me to eat, so that I may bless you before I die.” Rebekah happens to overhear them, and she quickly goes to find Jacob, her favorite son. She tells him, “Go to the flock, and get me two choice kids, so that I may prepare from them savory food for your father, such as he likes; and you shall take it to your father to eat, so that he may bless you before he dies.” Jacob points out that he isn’t hairy like Esau, and his father, though blind, will be able to feel the difference and curse him instead. As we might say today, Rebekah has an App for that. While the dish is cooking, she dresses Jacob in some of Esau’s clothes and puts the skins of the slaughtered kids on his hands and the back of his neck.

But doesn’t that make Rebekah the sneaky one? Okay, I’ll give you that one, but Jacob goes along without protest. Not to mention he’s already manipulated Esau into selling his birthright for a meal of bread and stew. Not a particularly fair deal, if you ask me. So he comes by it naturally. He takes after his mother.

With the preparations complete, smelling and feeling like his brother, Jacob goes to his father and fools Isaac into believing that he is Esau. And so Isaac eats and then gives his younger son the blessing that should have been the older son’s. Now Jacob has not only his brother’s inheritance, but his patriarchal blessing as well. What was it we heard God say before these men were born? “The elder shall serve the younger." So why did Jacob find it necessary to use deceit to obtain what he has already been promised?

Jacob the sneak, indeed.

No sooner does Jacob depart from his father’s tent then Esau returns from his hunting, prepares a savory dish, and takes it to Isaac, who realizes the trick. Can we blame Esau for saying to himself, “The days of mourning for my father are approaching; then I will kill my brother Jacob.” Unfortunately, he says that out loud, and again Rebekah overhears something not meant for her ears. And again she runs to her younger son, warns him of his brother’s intention, and sends him off to her brother in the land of her birth. (Genesis 27)

And so Jacob the sneak runs off in the night.

But before we get to the story of the ladder, there’s a slightly different version of the blessing story, which many scholars believe comes from a different source. Here Isaac calls Jacob to him and blesses him and then sends him to his mother’s family to find a wife there rather than marry one of the Canaanite women from the land where they are currently living. (Genesis 28:1-5)

So we have Jacob the sneak, and Jacob the dutiful son. Two traditions placed in tension for our reading, reflection, and interpretation.

This week I find myself in a place where I strongly identify with Esau. Some of it has to do with being an older son, but mostly I’ve been put in the role of the metaphorical big brother over and over. I’ve watched those younger brothers and sisters receive blessings and inheritances I will not. I have seen them go places I cannot. Next year, next month, next week, or even tomorrow, I might find myself interpreting the story of Esau and Jacob differently. Neither interpretation is wrong. They are reflections of where I am in my life and how that affects the way in which I tell my story of being part of God’s creation.

You will have your own reflections and interpretations. How do they affect the way you tell your story of being part of God’s creation? Can we share those stories with each other? I invite you to do so, ending as I began:

Loving God, you call us to be your stories in the world. We come before you seeking to be touched by your story. Open our lips to share our stories with one another and open our hearts to bring comfort, inspiration, joy and laughter to each other. Amen.

Get Your Head out of The Sand, Rowan*

The chickens have come home to roost.

The shoe is on the other foot.

England is now being treated as a mission field by the self-proclaimed true Anglicans. Almost two weeks ago The Fellowship of Confession Anglicans announced the inauguration of The Anglican Mission in England (AMIE):

AMIE has been established as a society within the Church of England dedicated to the conversion of England and biblical church planting. There is a steering committee and a panel of bishops. The bishops aim to provide effective oversight in collaboration with senior clergy.

The AMIE has been encouraged in this development by the Primates’ Council of the Fellowship of Confessing Anglicans (GAFCON) who said in a communiqué from Nairobi in May 2011: “We remain convinced that from within the Provinces which we represent there are creative ways by which we can support those who have been alienated so that they can remain within the Anglican family.”

The Archbishop of Canterbury has finally, in his usual wishy-washy style, responded. And as usual, Episcopal Cafe's The Lead has good coverage. Be sure to read the comments. I'm sure they're having a field day over at that place I refuse to go read.

I've often referred to this whole mess as the tempest in the Anglican teapot. Well now it seems that the Archbishop's teapot is about to boil over. The poaching is about to begin, and Rowan is still trying to steer the middle course over the edge of the cliff. With this happening in his own back yard, will he finally see the dangers of the Anglican Covenant? I doubt it.

The ball is in your court, Rowan, and the match is yours to lose.


*Yes, this post is full of cliches. They're cliche's for a reason.

Celebrating Six Months of Unemployment

The Long And Winding Road - Part 3

And then there's the "gay thing," the elephant in the living room.

In spite of the fact that the Canons of the Episcopal Church state

No person shall be denied access to the discernment process for any ministry, lay or ordained, in this Church because of race, color, ethnic origin, national origin, sex, marital status, sexual orientation, disabilities or age, except as otherwise provided by these Canons. No right to licensing, ordination, or election is hereby
established. CANONS III.1.2

there seems to be an unofficial hierarchy in many dioceses, and queer folks are at the bottom. We are grilled more thoroughly about our personal lives than even the most promiscuous single heterosexual men.

For a long time in my diocese there was an unofficial don't ask don't tell policy in place. When I first applied for postulancy, Ledlie (my rector) and I wondered about the fact that I edited the newsletter of my Integrity Chapter, and Bishop Coleridge, as Bishop of Connecticut, was on the mailing list. Ledlie spoke to a member of the Committee on Ministry who told him that the newsletter could be on the bishop's desk, and when he received the application, he would intentionally not link the two.

So I sent in the application, which Ledlie and I whitewashed to some extent. There was a surprising, to me, amount of ministry work. But nothing about my involvement with Integrity, my activism with the Connecticut Coalition for Lesbian and Gay Civil Rights, being a founding board member of the Triangle Community Center, and of course, absolutely nothing about my relationship with Brian, which had ended about midway through my initial discernment process. In due course was scheduled for an interview with Bishop Coleridge, the Canon to the Ordinary, and newly elected suffragan Bishop Smith.

What they saw was a single man living his mother at the age of 37. I could tell him that my mother was uncomfortable living alone after my father died, but I couldn't talk about my recovery from and having nowhere to go after what was essentially a divorce. A great swath of my life experience hidden. It was quite clear by the "not yes, but not no" letter I received less than a month later that the Bishops and the Canon didn't think I was strong enough to survive the rigors of the process. Because of Bishop Coleridge's don't ask don't tell policy, they wouldn't know how much I had faced and survived before I walked into his office.

Brian and I separated 16 years ago this month. My being in discernment for ordination was the straw that broke the proverbial camel's back. He's now happily married to the man he's been with for several years. I'm still single. There are a variety of reasons for that, but the vast majority of those reasons have to do with being in the ordination process. Some men aren't willing to be involved with someone so deeply involved with the church. Some tried to talk me out of it. And I haven't been all that certain that I want to subject a significant other to the quagmire of the process.

In the last 18 years the Episcopal Church has come a long way, a slow long way, on the issues of its queer members. But it's still an issue to be queer in the ordination process.

It is still an issue.

Pride Day

Traditionally the last Sunday in June is Pride Day--originally Gay Pride Day. Now June is Pride Month, although celebrations take place before and after June. This is the third of fourth year that I have not attended a Price celebration for a variety of reasons.

This year I planned on going to the Fairfield County Pride event sponsored by Triangle Community Center, but this year they planned a party with a $30 admission charge. Too rich for someone on unemployment! I was on the board of TCC when the organization took over the county's pride event, and i expressed my disappointment in what they made of it this year.

I thought about going into the City for today's parade, but I wasn't sure I was up to the travel and crowds. Instead I spent Pride Day at church, with my religious community. It was our bilingual service where both congregations worship together on the last Sunday of the month. We also had a work day and picnic. I was where I needed to be today.

Next year I'll worry about next year.

An Added Celebration for Pride

The New York State Senate gave us a present for Pride Weekend. Marriage Equality is now on the books in New York, effective in 30 days. It didn't come without strings, however. It includes a religious exemption. Quite frankly, the bigots hiding behind their religion didn't really need the exemption, but it did get the bill passed.

New York becomes the sixth state with Marriage Equality on the books. New Jersey and Maryland didn't make it this year, and we're still waiting on the court decision on Prop 8 in California.

There is a long road ahead of us, but for today, we celebrate!

So Why Ain't* I Straight?

Just when I think I've seen the last of it, I stumble across that old argument against openly queer people in positions of public responsibility. It is often most virulent where our school systems are concerned. The premise is that an openly queer teacher will influence our children and youth to become queer.

Really?

I went through my entire time in the Darien Public Schools without encountering a single openly queer teacher. Years later, I learned there were some queer teachers, closeted of course, but I was never in their classes. No teacher ever made an inappropriate approach toward me. No teacher ever even so much as hinted that there were queer people out there in the world. I was so naive that I didn't even know what was going on between a large number of my fellow students, in school, in spite of the watchful eyes of the teachers. Everything around me supported the heterosexual norms of society.

So why ain't I straight?

Because obviously, according to the conservative argument, someone in a position of authority or influence influenced my choices.

Male bovine droppings!

My brother actually had at least one of those closeted teachers in the classroom, and he's straight. I never did, and I'm gay. In fact, I didn't knowingly meet any openly queer people until I was in college, and the first one was actually younger than me. He never laid a hand on me either, except to cut my hair. We weren't each others' type. But he, even as effeminate as he was, showed me that there were many types of gay men. He was also one of the first people I knew to die of AIDS.

It's time to put this old, ridiculous, bigoted argument away. Our queer children and youth need positive role models. They need to see that there are all sorts of queer folks, just as there are all sorts of straight folks.

*A note to all my elementary school and English teachers: Remember that dictionary you were always telling us to look things up in? Ain't is in it! It's the contraction of "am not" and is more correct than aren't, even though it's frowned upon as a sign of being uneducated.

The Long And Winding Road - Part 2

So after that afternoon experience on the Madison street corner, I did the next logical thing. I called the chaplain at Rockford College and made an appointment to see him. I planned on spending Homecoming Weekend with friends, so I was going to be there anyway. And while I had graduated the prior Spring, I still hadn't settled into First Congregational Church in Madison quite enough to know the clergy there yet.

David and I had a good conversation. He asked the right questions. And then he did two things. First, he told me I needed to go and have some life experience before pursuing a call to ordained ministry. As I traveled this twisted path, I learned that it was a common thing told to young adults of my generation (and those just before and just after) who expressed an interest in or a sense of call to ordination. "Go away and come back when you're older," we were told in large numbers. Of course, now the church is crying out for young clergy. I'll come back to that shortly.

The second thing David did was try to steer me into Christian Education. Back in the early 1980s, Christian Education was still primarily Sunday School and considered the realm of women in the church. Not that it made a difference to me, if I felt that had been my call. And ironic, considering my last professional position was with the Episcopal Church in Christian Formation.

When I did get to know the clergy at First Congregational better, I talked to them about my call, and they told me pretty much the same things David had. There were plenty of other things to do, and I remained active in the church.

Then I dropped out of graduate school because I couldn't find a job in Madison at that time (early 80's, bad economy). I came back east, spent a few months living with my parents while I got back on my feet, and started looking for a new church. That search took about five years.

I'm going to skip part of the journey for this post because I want to focus on the age issue.

Flash forward 12 years or so. I'd been in the ordination process for a few years. I hadn't been told "no," but neither was I being moved forward. Circumstances both at my parish and in the diocese caused delays. The parish got a new rector, and I was finally able to pick up the thread again. Bill and I had continuing conversations. He had difficulty seeing a call, I had difficulty articulating things with him. He expressed concern about the way my spiritual director was working with me, "Not the traditional method of spiritual direction." If I'd been quicker on the draw, I'd have told him that he wasn't exactly following the "traditional method" of discernment.

Eventually, he ended our conversations by saying that he really thought I was too old to be starting this process. It was the day before Ascension Day, 2002. I was 42. A couple of weeks later I went to Hartford to see one of my friends ordained to the Diaconate--she was part of a group of 12 heading for ordination as priests. As I sat there looking at the twelve I realized that 10 of those postulants were older than me, many by a good 10 years. Those 10 were also all women. The two MEN were younger than me. That message came through loud and clear.

So I've been caught at both ends of the pendulum's swing.

More about what happened in the middle later.

Picking up My Flute... Again

It's been three months since I practiced, or even picked up the flute to play a few tunes. For some reason I felt like playing today. While it feels good in many ways, it's also frustrating to pick up after a few months of not practicing. Pieces that were close to being performance ready are once again a struggle. The daily scale exercises are a series of misfingered notes. It wasn't a total disaster. The short piece from Frederick the Great's 100 Daily Exercises that I started today actually fell into place pretty quickly. It's not perfect, but today anyway, my closet perfectionist is locked in the basement with Robert (of Robert's Rules).

I do like to pick up my flute and play music that I like--Taize instrumentals, traditional dance tunes, some of the baroque sonatas and other pieces that I'm drawn to. But practice is necessary to really play them well, especially the baroque sonatas. There's also a romantic piece (Donjon's "Pan Pastoral") that I'd like to get to the point of being able to perform. It takes me a lot of work with a metronome to get a piece to the point where I could perform it. Especially since I'm not taking formal lessons, and haven't in 25 years or so.

Performance and lessons. Those are the two things that would give me the structure to practice more regularly. Lessons will have to wait. I'd just started looking for a teacher when I lost my job. Until I'm working, and have built up some savings again, lessons will have to wait. Performing comes now and again, mostly at my church or an occasional gig at a wedding or memorial service. There are amateur bands and orchestras in the area, but there are more flute players than there is demand for them.

Ideally, it would be nice to find a couple of other amateur musicians to get together and play some chamber music. I've put out some feelers, but so far no response.

So I'll practice for a few days, and then off and on for a while. Followed by a fallow period. At least that's been the pattern so far.

And I'll keep my eyes and ears open for places to play.

Knit 3, Purl 3

Two Saturdays a month a group of men and women gathers in the Memorial Room at Grace Episcopal Church. This is our Prayer Shawl Ministry. As a shawl is completed, it is placed in a cedar chest donated by one of the group. One Sunday At the end of the summer the shawls will be spread on the altar to be blessed before being sent to the local hospital for distribution.

The gathering is as much social as it is a ministry. Our deacon provides coffee and snacks. We begin arriving half an hour before the scheduled start time. Conversation flows. Today the big topic was yesterday's storm. Most Saturdays we are treated to our Music Director practicing for the next morning's service. Many of us stay beyond the scheduled end time.

Most of us knit. Some of us crochet. Some of us just come for the conversation and fellowship.

Knitting has a rhythm all its own. It's very different from crocheting, which I've been doing since I was 11. I crocheted the first shawl I did as part of this ministry. I decided I wanted to try knitting this second one, which meant relearning to knit. The pattern is fairly simple--knit 3, purl 3 over 63 stitches. I've pretty much mastered it, though I can see some of the mistakes back at the beginning of the piece. I've also reached the point where I can hold a conversation or watch TV without pausing the knitting. And if I run into a problem I can't figure out on my own, there are plenty of people to help me.

I'm already thinking ahead to the next two shawls I'll be making. Why two? Because the first will be crocheted and the second knit.

Or is that knitted?

The Long and Winding Road - Part 1

It seems hard to believe that it's been nearly 30 years since that afternoon on a Madison, Wisconsin street corner. And it's been nearly 20 since I tentatively approached my parish priest about ordination. For those 20 years the path has been complicated by transitions: transitions in the parish, transitions in the diocese, transitions in the church as a whole, and transitions in my own life. Along the way I've watched numerous friends and acquaintances start and finish the ordination process. Some my friends, only half-jokingly, refer to me as a catalyst.

Along the way I've been blessed by some incredibly compassionate, wise, and wonderful friends. They've seen me through the sorrows and joys, defeats and victories, and the every day, one-foot-in-front-of-the-other walk through life. I hope that I have been as much to them on their own journeys.

Going through a job search involves looking through your past experiences to see where you've been and position yourself for the next leap forward. For the most part, that means looking at your professional life. But you can't ignore the rest of your life experiences. Sometimes you find that something outside your professional experience brings you to that next job. Sometimes.

Over the past six months, when people have asked me about ordination, I've responded by telling them that I've been pretty beaten up by the institutional church during the past few years, and this isn't the time to be making decisions about this particular path. However, that doesn't mean that I haven't been thinking about and reviewing the labyrinth of the past 30 years of discernment both in terms of my job hunt. In doing so, it's hard to escape also thinking about the future of the ordination path.

One foot in front of the other, carving out the path as I go.

Dictionaries

One of the features I love about my Kindle is its dictionary feature. When I run across a word I don't know, I move the cursor to the word, and the definition appears at the bottom of my screen. No need to run to the shelves and pull out the big dictionary!

I grew up with dictionaries. As long as I can remember there was one in the house when I was growing up. The Christmas of my senior year of high school my parents gave me The American Heritage Dictionary of the English Language, so I would have one to take with me to college. I still have it. A few years ago when I decided I needed a more up-to-date dictionary, Mom gave me The American Heritage College Dictionary. I'll probaly get myself a new one in another few years because language changes.

As each of my brother's children graduates from high school, I give them a dictionary (I still owe the middle nephew one).

The summer between having to leave our first apartment because the lease was up and moving into our condo, Brian and I put most of our belongings in storage and stayed with his parents. One day I needed a dictionary, and there wasn't one in the house. I was flabbergasted.

Then there are misuses. I was a pretty good speller in elementary school. I could usually figure out how words were spelled by breaking apart how they sounded. But there were times I got stumped, and I'd ask the teacher. "Look it up in the dictionary," she'd tell me. Really? If I couldn't spell it, how was I going to find it in the dictionary?

One year I had a teacher who from time to time used the dictionary as a form of discipline. For some infractions you had to sit at your desk during recess and copy the definition of the word run. In most dictionaries that's at least a page of small print to be copied out by hand. Set usually has as many, or more, definitions in most dictionaries, but I don't remember being given any word but run to copy out. Maybe it had the most definitions in the dictionaries we had in our classroom. I wonder how many kids learned to hate dictionaries that year?

I always have my dictionary and my thesaurus by my side when I'm writing. Although I have to be careful because I can get sidetracked by etymologies, idioms, and other words and information. I'm an incorrigible researcher.

Some other time maybe I'll tell you about times I spent reading the set of encyclopedias in our house.