Yee-haw: Be true to your own dance.

 

A Homily for the Rev’d Lauren A. Gough

Thursday, March 17, 2016

St. Martin in the Fields, Keller, TX

The Rev’d Dr. Elizabeth Kaeton

Let us pray: 

Through the written word,

and the spoken word,

may we know your Living Word

Jesus Christ, our Savior. Amen. 

The last time I was here at St. Martin's was my very first visit here. That was Sunday, February 21st. Less than a month ago. 

At the end of that service, Lauren said from her wheelchair, "This will be my last time here." And then she added, hastily, "Well, for awhile. And, hopefully not in quite the same way." 

Her words were then, as so often was the case, prophetic. Here we are, back again. And, none of us - no, not one - is quite the same way as we were just a few short weeks ago.

The first time I met Lauren was in the spring of 1982. It was visiting days for prospective students at the Episcopal Divinity School in Cambridge, MA. 

I was a young woman who had just turned the corner on thirty years of age. My bishop had originally voted against the ordination of women. I was only the fourth woman to whom he had conferred postulancy. 

And, he had stated to me – clearly and unequivocally – that he did not want me to go to Episcopal Divinity School in Cambridge, MA.

And yet, there I was. At The Episcopal Divinity School In Cambridge, MA. As a prospective student. 

Looking back 30+ years, I have come to understand why I made my bishop so nervous. You know, sometimes, when I was in his presence, he rather looked like he had a bad case of indigestion. I always wondered why . . . . .. .

Truth be told, I had just reached the point in my discernment process where I was thinking I did not belong in The Episcopal Church. At. All. 

In those days, everyone seemed to be part of the group of affluent people my immigrant, factory working, union-labor-organizing grandparents, parents and family called “Limousine Liberal”. 

All the Episcopal men seemed to be dressed in khaki pants and tweed jackets with patched elbows. And, the Episcopal women all seemed to be wearing plaid skirts or jumpers or tan pants and button down shirts. 

And, everyone seemed to be wearing penny loafers. Clergy wore black penny loafers. Seriously. 

Either that, or they looked like a lost tribe of Bohemians, complete with Birkenstock sandals and crunchy granola clothing. There didn't seem to be any in-between.  

It's very different there now, of course, but it was the 80s and that was the memory of a then very young, very anxious woman.

Dean Harvey Gutherie had just said to me, just five seconds after pleasant introductions. "We have a lot to discuss. You have important questions to ask me about how this seminary will prepare you for ministry. I have important questions to ask you about how your bishop and diocese will support you while you're here. So, let's get on with it. The world is too dark and too broken a place for us to play polite games with each other."

Well, I was in! Hooked! But then, I looked around at the students who were there and I thought, Good Lord, if I don’t belong here at EDS, I mustn’t belong anywhere in TEC.

And then, it happened. Just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, suddenly I found myself in Reed Hall where there was a reception for visiting potential students. 

There was a large table of alcoholic beverages (it was the 80s) and another with hot appetizers served on bone china plates with the EDS symbol on them. Viennese waltzes were playing. Seriously.

A young man – of rather small stature, as I recall – approached the woman I would come to know as Lauren. Lauren, as you may remember, had a fairly imposing stature and countenance. 

And, as I recall, Lauren was wearing neither penny loafers nor Birkenstocks. Nosireebob. Lauren was wearing cowboygirl boots. Black. Pointy toe. Looked like she could do some damage with them, if she had a mind to.

I remember the man had a handlebar mustache and – did I mention he was of small stature? – he bowed deeply at the waist and looked up …. Up . ..  UP to Lauren and said, with great flourish, “Might I have the next waltz?”

And, Lauren, bless her heart, looked down at this nattily dressed little Limousine Liberal man, threw her head back and hooted out LOUD and right into the very proper, rarefied air that swirled delicately with the sound of music from another century in another world, far, far away. (I might mention here that I had never before heard a proper Texas hoot. It obviously left quite an impression.)

And then Lauren said what I came to understand was her line in life. She said, “Shoot! If it ain’t got a ‘yee-haw’ in the middle of it, I ain’t dancin’’ to it.”

And, right there and then, I knew that I loved Lauren, hopelessly, totally, completely, undeniably and forever. I figured, if there was room enough in The Episcopal Church in general and EDS in particular for someone like Lauren Gough, there was room enough for me.

Turns out. There was. Well, mostly. Theoretically, at least. Turns out, thirty plus years later, some days, I still scratch my head and wonder if there’s a place for me – and many other women – in this church of ours. And, as many of you know, Lauren paid a high price for staying true to who she was and the dance that was her own.

That high price is something those who follow Jesus are bound to pay. In truth, there’s really no getting around it. The cost of discipleship is high. It just is. Certainly, this entire diocese has paid – and is paying dearly, and still may pay even more dearly – for staying true to its own dance.

In the Gospel appointed for today, Jesus boldly proclaims to the religious leaders of his day, “Very truly I tell you, whoever keeps my word will never see death.”

That, of course, put him right into the midst of one of the raging controversies of his time: Resurrection was a huge debate between the Sadducees and the Pharisees. And, here was Jesus, telling them that, if they believed him – believed his words – they were believing in the God who was and is and is to come and they would never have to look death in the face – not see it, not taste it, not feel it – because the gift of eternal life which had been temporarily lost but had always been theirs was now being redeemed for them.

And, for telling his truth, for staying true to his own dance, the religious leaders thought him insane, and picked up stones to throw at him. But, Jesus hid himself and went out of the temple.

Those of us who choose to speak our truth and stay true to our own dance often annoy and anger those who are institutional leaders - or, at least give them a bad case of indigestion – so much so that, occasionally, we have to leave for a while and hide ourselves in ministries that are not directly related to the institutional church. 

Some of us are hiding in plain site, worshiping as church in storefronts and shopping malls and office buildings as well as in traditional church buildings, but with a liturgical style and dance step that would be anathema to some of its previous occupants.

It can get pretty scary out here – out from underneath the protective apron of Mother Church. It can be both a little heady and exciting and yet very frightening and anxious to be connected to Her by just the barest threads of Her apron strings.

Sometimes, in that fear, in that anxiety, in that feeling like we don’t fit in, we can fall into the old ways of the oppressor. It happened in the days of Moses when the people were brought out of bondage in Egypt only to worship false idols. It happened in the days of Abraham when he forgot the promises God made to him, and Sarah laughed. 

We can also get pretty rigid, clinging to our own brand of Levitial codes and purity laws, hoping against hope that if we're good little boys and girls and keep all the rules and behave, God will smile upon us and we will be rewarded with prosperity and success.

It happens in the church with alarming frequency. We see it in many ways, but especially when we do not provide equal opportunity AND equal compensation for men and women who are called to the same work of ministry within the institutional church.

Lauren saw this and it grieved her heart. She spoke up about it and annoyed a few people. Scared a few others.  Ticked off a bunch more. She said, out loud, that she didn't want "busy work". She wanted gospel work. For herself and for her sisters. 

Equal opportunity. Equal Work. Equal compensation. That's what she said. Often. And, loudly.

As outspoken as she was about that, she also saw a vision of the future that was even more compelling than any of the institutional faults or flaws which were immediately before her.

She saw a diocese returning from what Martin Smith calls “the crucifyingly obscure boundaries of our faith”. Listen to that again- "the crucifyingly obscure boundaries of our faith." Isn't that where you have been. Isn't that, sometimes, where you still find yourself?

Isn't that where grief sometimes drives us?

She saw this diocese rising from the ashes and cinders of conflict and struggle to be resurrected into something more authentic, more real, into what she said was a “Christianity (that) may speak more of what Jesus called us to do”.

She wrote those words in her last blog post, just one month ago, almost to the day, along with this sentence: “But, more importantly, it is a Christianity that calls us out of what we have always done, in order to love others, even the ones who find fault with us.”

That resonates deeply with the vision of another Episcopalian from Texas. Presiding Bishop Edmund Browning – born in Corpus Christi, in fact – famously said, “In this church of ours, there will be no outcasts.” 

It’s a simple sentence that has thrown this church smack dab into some difficult gospel truths: 

That, in order to achieve that vision of Jesus, love has to replace fear. Courage is not the opposite of fear. Love is the opposite of fear. Love is what gives us the courage to walk through our fears.

That, in order for there to be no outcasts, justice has to replace poverty. Wealth isn't the opposite of poverty. Justice is the opposite of poverty.

And, in order for us to be more authentically the Body of Christ, peace has to replace the war within our own hearts to be better than others rather than serving and sacrificing so others can do better.

Love, not fear. Justice, not poverty. Peace, not war. A life of service to and sacrifice for others. THAT, my friends, was at the very heart of Lauren Gough. It's what gave passion to her life.

Love. Justice. Service and Sacrifice were the four steps in the dance of ministry that animated her life. Her partner was Jesus, whom she loved, and they danced together to the music of the gospel.

And, you better believe it had an 'yee-haw' in the middle of it.

If you missed that about Lauren because she annoyed you or intimidated your or scared you or, like divine sandpaper, she just plain rubbed you the wrong way, well, you missed out on a manifestation of the love of God. You missed an opportunity to let her divine sandpaper bring out your own more authentic grain, and to shine with your own inner beauty and truth.

Lauren knew, all the days of her life but especially at the end of her life, that Jesus loved her. She knew that because she saw a reflection of the love of Jesus in the eyes of Judy, her partner in life.

That love of her dance partner Jesus and her life partner Judy gave her the courage to be all of who she was, without apology. And, that love compelled her to work for the full inclusion of all God’s people. No outcasts. Not on her watch. Not in her church. No matter who that angered or annoyed. No matter what it cost her, personally.

Lauren’s heart was always deep in the heart of Texas. Indeed, it was her love of Texas Blue Bonnets that literally brought her to tears with homesickness. She said when the longing to return to her Texas roots became overwhelming, the memory of the hills and open field covered in Blue Bonnets would restore her spirit and revive her soul.  

Katie Sherrod reminded me of that conversation with Lauren. “Blue Bonnets,” she said,  “like Texas women, are survivors.” Because the climate in Texas can be so harsh, Blue Bonnets have developed ways to survive. Each mother plant produces hundreds of seeds. 

These seeds literally explode into the air when the seedpod pops. This scatters them in a wide range around the mother. Some of these seeds are genetically programmed to germinate in a year, some in three years, some in five years, some in ten years. 

This way, no matter how much rain or wind or drought you have, some of the seeds will survive and grow, and produce more seeds to start the cycle again.

And that, said Lauren, was proof positive that the Resurrection was real. Not just survival! Resurrection! For Lauren, Blue Bonnets are a sign that there IS life eternal after this mortal life. 

She said that the pods of the Blue Bonnets were a metaphor for what happens to us when we enter life eternal and burst into new life with God. And, once there, with God, we will gather ‘round the heavenly banquet table with all of our friends who have gone on before, plotting about how to bring the realm of God closer to earth.

And, for Lauren, of course, the heavenly banquet table would be piled high with Texas BBQ.

You know, come to think of it, the image of pods of Blue Bonnets bursting open and dancing in the Texas wind is as good an image of the resurrection of this diocese as anyone can imagine. 

Resurrection happens right in our midst - is happening right in our midst - reminding us that we do not have to look death in the face without seeing the love in the face of Jesus - the love of God incarnate - the love of God in Christ Jesus in the midst of our pain and sorrow, calling us to new life. 

For Lauren - and now, for us - the Blue Bonnets are a sign of that resurrection. In this diocese. In our own lives of faith. And, as we grieve, that faith will be our consolation.

I hope you’ll remember it when times get tough. And, they will, no doubt.

I hope you remember it when you are tempted to fall into the old habits of spiritual drought. Let us pray that we will learn to trust that new growth will come again despite the harsh winds of anxiety and desert dryness of our grief to move us from the irrational fears of scarcity into the inexplicable joys of abundance.

And, I hope you call up the image of the Blue Bonnets when you remember Lauren, and how she took risks for us and how her heart burst with love for us.

Finally, I hope you’ll remember the words of our sister, now gone from our sight but dwelling in light eternal, and take them to your heart as words of holy advice. 

Always remember and never forget the words of Blessed Lauren Ann Gough, now numbered among the saints, who once said, “If it ain’t got an ‘yee-haw’ in the middle of it, I ain’t dancin’ to it.” 

Go, thou, and do likewise and be true to your own dance.    

And, when you do that, do it in memory of her. 

Amen.

NB:  A video of this sermon along with pictures and the service bulletin, can be found here on the St. Martin in the Fields web site.  

I Love Lent

Ash Wednesday - Carl Spitzweg

I've never been one to "follow the crowd". On anything. Ever.

So, probably those who have read this blog are not at all surprised to read that I love Lent. Other than Advent, it's really my favorite liturgical season of year.

One of the best things about Lent is that you don't have to belong to a church to observe Lent. In fact, I'm going to be so bold as to say that sometimes, it's better if you don't.

The image the church holds out of Lent is, for me, captured in that Carl Spitzweg portrait above.

Entitled "Ash Wednesday." It depicts a jester - the symbol of frivolity and foolishness - sitting in what may well be a prison cell. He's utterly alone, seemingly lost in deep contemplation - accompanied only by a shaft of light with a pitcher of water nearby.

The symbolism of light and water are inescapable as an antidote to his miserable condition.

To be honest, I really think that misses the point of Lent. It's really not about doom and gloom, sin and confession, suffering and sacrifice. 

It's about taking time - a most precious commodity in life - to contemplate not about things "high and holy" but about what it means to be mortal - a human being. About how one might be a better human being. About how that human might make the world a better place.

That's a very counter-cultural thing to do. To take time - to be intentional about it - to think about being human. Our culture, our society, does not encourage this. Indeed, in many ways our culture offers lots of ways to anesthetize and isolate oneself.

Neither does the church, in fact, do so good a job of Lent - even though it created it.  The Church means well. But, the Church often encourages us to strive to be saints. Which, of course, doesn't happen until after you die.

Lent is about setting apart a time certain - 40 days and 40 nights - to do as Jesus did, right after his baptism: to think about what it means to be human and what God was calling him to do with the divine gift of this human life.

In the Gospel lesson for the First Sunday in Lent, Jesus goes into "the wilderness" where he is tempted by Satan in the three circumstances when humans are most sorely tempted.

Hunger.

Power.

Glory.

These three are conditions of body, mind and spirit.

Because we are human, we experience physical and emotional and spiritual hunger or gluttony, power or impotence, and human conditions of humility and arrogance.

Lent is about taking the time to be intentional about what feeds us and what depletes us.

It's about exploring the boundaries of excess and deprival.

Lent is also about taking the time to be intentional about sources and systems of power and authority. It's about discovering our unique gifts and resources and how we use them - or don't, or abuse them - and why.

Finally, Lent is about taking the time to be intentional about you. Your identity. Who you are. Whose you are. What you value. What you are willing to die for. What makes life worth living. What you are called to do with your life. What your relationship is to other people, the world, and the One who gave you life.

It's about exploring the limits of your life and taking the time to learn how to make the most of the time you have to be the best you can be and make the world a better place.

You don't have to be part of a church to observe Lent. In fact, the church can get in the way of a good, albeit "holy" observance of Lent, concentrating more on sin and sacrifice and penitence than the wholeness - and holiness - of human life.

Fasting and sacrifice and practicing piety and humility are all good - if practicing those things help you be intentional on the hunger of your body, mind and spirit. If it makes you a better person. If it helps you, throughout the rest of the year, work to make the world a better place.

But, if it tries to make you someone you don't even remotely recognize - if it's not authentic and has no integrity - well, what's the point? You are just going through the motions. 

As Leo Buscaglia once said, "If you are a banana, don't put your energies into trying to be an apple. Be the best banana you can possibly be, blemishes and all."

Indeed, I don't believe you have to be Christian to observe Lent. However, my experience is that following Jesus as your teacher and guide can make that journey more meaningful. Not necessarily easier but more deeply transformative. Well, that's my experience, anyway.

At his best, Jesus can teach you about 'metanoia' - about stopping what you're doing - right dead in your tracks - so that you may turn around and find another way - another path - that will lead you to wholeness and holiness of life.

Lent only happens once a year - well, on the church calendar - but I'm of the opinion that it ought to happen at least periodically throughout all of the days of our lives.

Indeed, I've come to believe that Lent is a wonderful way of life - to strive to make the necessary sacrifices so you can discover or uncover or recover the truth about hunger and power and glory - our own and that of our neighbors and the world.

Sound too esoteric? Too exotic?

Like you'd have to travel to a foreign country and pay lots of money to a Spiritual Guide and walk a hundred miles on your knees, chanting a spiritual mantra in exactly the right way?

Well, one day when you've got some time - or are of a mind to take some time - take a peak at the 12-Steps of Recovery.

You don't have to be an alcoholic or addicted to some substance to find that those steps will place you on a path to living an effective and deeply spiritual model of living Lent every day of your life. 

Living a Lenten Life will put us in direct conflict with the world - and parts of the church - that beckon us to anesthetize and isolate ourselves, but as Socrates famously said at his trial for "impiety and corrupting youth " for which he was subsequently sentenced to death,

"The unexamined life is not worth living. "

May this Lent be for you so w/holy, so meaning-full, so in-tentional, that you will be inspired throughout the year to make several journeys into the wildernesses of your own humanity, that you may be tempted to discover there the boundaries of your needs and excesses, your human frailty as well as your strengths - what makes life so worth living that you are willing to die for it - as well as your relationship with yourself, your neighbor, the world and God.

I hope you will come to love, Lent, too.

Almost Human

I posted this last night on my FB page, after F.I.N.A.L.L.Y. returning home from a horrendous, horrific, gawdawful experience in air transportation from the airport in Philadelphia to LAX. 

One of my friends describes such experiences as the "high tech version of the Bataan Death March".

That's it. Exactly.

It wasn't just the results of the snow storm that hit the Northeast and Mid-Atlantic, although I'm sure that didn't help.

I was flying United Air. As one of my FB friends said, the unofficial slogan of the United Flight Attendants is,  "We're not happy until we make you unhappy."

They weren't rude. They didn't do anything bad. They just didn't do anything more than whatever they were absolutely required to do.

Apparently, smiling and being pleasant is not required.

The passengers whose flight had been delayed and were bumped again and again were more pleasant and human than the United Air flight attendants and ticket and baggage people. Sheesh!

These United Air flight attendants were NOT on my flight

There was this one moment of levity, however, that almost escaped my memory banks.

I recovered it while sitting in my very own comfortable chair in my very own warm, wonderful home (which weathered the storm well - the yard, however, not so much - but that's another story for another day), preparing to sleep in my very own wonderful bed.

I don't want to lose the story again, so here it is:

So, despite my grumbling about the horrors of my most recent experience with air transportation, there was a moment which, as I reflect on it, was a real bright spot that needs to be lifted up and shared.

I got through the long, winding cattle line through ticket and ID processing and to the process that has become mind-numbingly familiar and yet still mildly annoying.

I took off my shoes, emptied my pockets, stepped into the full body scan, placed my feet on the little yellow outline of feet on the floor, raised my arms over my head the way the picture instructed me to do and stood still for the 30 whole seconds they tell you it's going to take to make sure you don't have any hidden explosives or sharp objects or other weaponry hidden in your body.

As I stepped out of the scan, a young female TSA agent motioned me to please step aside, saying that I needed a body pat down. She was polite but perfunctory, a bit harried and hassled for 8 AM.

She didn't need the extra work any more than I needed a delay.

She asked me if I minded her doing the pat down publicly or if I wanted to go someplace more private. I told her it was fine to do it right there but asked why she needed to do it.

"You have a groin abnormality," she said.

"A groin abnormality?" I asked, alarmed.

"You mean," my voice rising, "there's an abnormality in my groin?" (It was 8 AM. I had been up since 4 AM) "You saw that on the scan?" I almost yelled.

"Do we need to call a doctor or a gynecologist or something?" I asked.

I could feel myself breaking into a cold sweat.

She was squatting in front of me, ready to start the pat down.

She started giggling, then laughing.

She laughed so hard she fell over on her butt.

"No . . . Oh, my Gawd . . . No . . . No . . .I mean, you have a dime sized spot on your scan . . . it's an abnormal scan . . .It's just a term . . . Oh, my Gawd . . . I never realized how that sounded .. . "groin abnormality" . . . I'm so sorry."

She patted the place on my inner thigh where the dime-sized abnormality was and - sonofagun - there it was! A dime! Apparently, it had slipped through a small hole in the seam of my pocket and had lodged itself in the inseam of my pants.

We laughed and laughed and laughed. So hard. Some of her coworkers started giving us the hairy eyeball. I looked at them and said,

"It's okay. I've just found a new gynecologist! And," I said, boldly putting my hand down my pants and pulling out the dime, "it only cost me a dime."

And, we laughed some more.

Then, she had to check my hands with some chemicals - all part of the procedure - and then we shook hands. "You don't want to be late," she called after me as she helped me put on my sweater and shoes.

Nice thought. Turns out my flight was delayed an hour and 45 minutes.

We had already pulled away from the gate and were on the tarmac. Some AC light went on for no apparent reason and they couldn't get it to turn off so they couldn't take off until it was fixed or checked out.

Or, something.

Meanwhile, I sat in that very cramped space, in that most uncomfortable seat, breathing the increasingly stale, re-circulated air of other people, watching the continuous loop of commercials for the "Direct TV" I could purchase for $7.99 on the tiny screen in front of me.

My recent experience with air transportation sucked all the humor out of my body. And seriously lowered my assessment of the human race. Including my own role in it.

I just now remembered incident with the TSA agent.

I'm already feeling better about being human. And, other human beings.

I may even be able to sleep tonight.

The Oasis: A Response to the Primates Statement

Rose Hassan, Interim Missioner, Elizabeth Kaeton and Lyn Headly-Deavors, past Missioners of The Oasis

The Oasis was shocked and saddened by the decision of "an overwhelming majority" of Primates to attempt to punish The Episcopal Church for the changes made to our canons to allow full access to the sacramental life of the church for everyone - including marriage equality.

The pain of the intent to exclude touches the pain of the long history of the exclusion many of us have felt in our families, church, society and the world.

However, we remember that in 2005 a decision was made by the Primates to isolate The Episcopal Church and the Anglican Church of Canada which demanded our withdrawal from "all other official entities of the Anglican Communion."

Then, as now, the Primates had no authority to make that decision - they are only one of four Instruments of Communion. The authority for legislative action rests with the Anglican Consultative Council (ACC).

In 2005, the ACC declined to enact that decision of the Primates. Instead, the Episcopal Church was asked to refrain from being seated on key governing committees of the ACC. We were allowed voice but no vote for a period of three years.

We do not know how the ACC will respond to the Primate's most recent actions when they meet in April. We do know that our representative to that body, the Rev'd Gay Jennings, President of the House of Deputies, is planning to attend.

We know that the ACC will be under enormous pressure from the Primates to authorize their stated "consequences" for The Episcopal Church.

We pray that the members of the ACC will come to understand the inefficacy of the "ecclesiastical time out" which was imposed on The Episcopal Church from 2005-2008. Our Presiding Bishop and Primate, Michael Bruce Curry, was very clear with his brothers that our church will not be reversing our decision.

 Indeed, we know that several other provinces - Canada and Brazil among them - are poised to change their canons to include marriage equality.

Will the Primates impose "consequences" on every province that makes this stance? Will they try to dis-empower and silence anyone with whom they disagree?

We pray that our LGBTQ sisters and brothers - here and around the world and in those very provinces of these Primates - will find solace in the words of Mark Beckwith, our Diocesan Bishop, who wrote:

"I take a large measure of comfort in the primates’ unanimous desire to continue to “walk together”. That says to me that there is a widespread recognition that we need to stay in relationship. That across the Anglican Communion we can acknowledge difference and disagreement – and still be in relationship with one another through the living Christ whose reach knows no bounds."

We also pray that we may be inspired by our Presiding Bishop who reminded us that we are Jesus People and we are part of what he calls The Jesus Movement. He said,

"And the truth is, it may be part of our vocation to help the Communion and to help many others to grow in a direction where we can realize and live the love that God has for all of us, and we can one day be a Church and a Communion where all of God’s children are fully welcomed, where this is truly a house of prayer for all people. And maybe it’s a part of our vocation to help that to happen."

In the days and months and years ahead, may we learn to walk together, even when some of us are at a different pace and others of us walk with a limp – and may the prophetic ministry to which we have been called gain in strength and wisdom and grace.

The Board of The Oasis
Newark, NJ

Further reading:

Archives of ENS 2005 Anglican Consultative Council 

The Primates Statement  

The Presiding Bishop's Statement

The Statement from the President of the House of Deputies

The Statement from our Diocesan Bishop

The Statement from the No Anglican Covenant Coalition

Primates' Decision Puzzles Communion Watchers

Primates Ruling Non-Binding Says Canon Lawyer

More information can be found at our Web Page: The Oasis 

Why do we stay? Why do we pay?

It's a good question. Why do we - queer people and women and people of color and our allies and progressives - stay in The Anglican Communion?

And, the second is like unto it: Why don't we take our money with us when we leave? Or, at least, divert it to those places in the Anglican Communion which have nothing to do with supporting the very structure that oppresses queer people and women while turning a blind eye to the genocide in their own provinces?

All over the Internet, both these questions - actually, they sound more like angry statements of retaliation - are being asked by Episcopalians and Anglicans. It's especially painful to hear this coming from some elected leaders in our church.

It's understandable. When people are in pain - especially when this fresh pain touches the old pain of insult and exclusion - there is a tendency to lash out.

"You can't exclude me! I'm leaving!"

"You can't hurt me! I'll take my money and hurt you!"

It's understandable. Not very emotionally or spiritually mature, but very understandably human.

Pain can be pretty debilitating. I know when I'm in pain, I get scared. When I'm scared, I feel cornered and small. I don't want anyone to come near me for fear they may take advantage of being vulnerable.  So, I push them away. I take the offensive as a reflexive, defensive position.

I growl. I hiss. I clench my fist. I bare my teeth.

I do that rather than whine. I can't stand whining. I dislike it most when I hear myself do it, but I don't like it one bit when others do it, either.

While asking these questions is understandable, it has to be noted that nothing better feeds the homophobic, anti-progressive/liberal narrative that queer people are self-centered and narcissistic and immature and their allies are misguided idiots than these two questions. 

No, I'm not suggesting that we "suck it up and deal with it". Or,  "get over it".

Or - you knew this was coming - "Let it go. Let it go-oh. Let it go!"

So, why do we stay? Why do we pay?

There are lots of reasons Here are a few:

1. It's not yet clear what the GAFCON Primates did, exactly.  Even to themselves.

The best explanation I've read is "No, the Episcopal Church Has Not Been Suspended From The Anglican Communion."   Their action is as complex and nuanced as the Anglican Communion itself, and the vote of an "overwhelming majority" of Primates represents a wide diversity of thought and purpose among themselves.

The truth is that the Primates do not have the authority to either provide "consequences" or "sanctions" to anyone outside their own provinces. They are but one of four "Instruments of Communion" and only represent one of the four orders of ministry.

It is not yet known how the other three "instruments" will respond to this action - well, two, actually, since the ABC is one of them - especially the Anglican Consultative Council. We are represented on the ACC by none other than Gay Jennings, the President of the House of Deputies, and she has absolutely no intention of not showing up and not using her voice and vote in representing the position of The Episcopal Church.

All will be revealed, eventually, but at this point, there's probably a whole lot more drama than any real sanction or suspension or damage to our standing in The Anglican Communion - except what we allow to be imposed upon us.

2. Leaving is exactly what the GAFCON Primates want us to do.

They want to humiliate and intimidate and bully us into submission to their understanding of the Gospel. "Submission" is one of their favorite words. They talk about "submitting" themselves to "Jesus as Lord" all the time. They also like the words "obey" and "obedience".

The thinking goes along the lines of humankind being possessed of "total depravity" (See: Calvinist theology which animates their understanding of religion and spirituality) who have to "control their impulses" (Translation: only being with one woman) and "submit" to the "authority of God" (as they understand God - male, of coures) and "obey Scripture" (as they understand its revelation to them).

We leave, they win. Not only the "argument" but the Anglican Communion, as they get to define (or redefine or reclaim as recompense for colonialism) and dominate.

It's also sets the stage for a very dangerous precedent, centralizing power and authority and turning the Primate princes of the church into popes.  That's far worse than long-considered-dead Anglican Covenant could ever achieve.

3. Staying is what the GAFCON Primates fear the most. 

Perhaps the most disingenuous part of the Primates statement is that they desire to "walk together". That is the very last thing they want. Unless, of course, we walk their way and on their terms. They know that's not going to happen.

When queer people and women and our allies and progressives stay in the Anglican Communion, the GAFCON Primates have to walk with us. They don't want to do that. It's so much easier if they can insult and intimidate us into leaving. That's what bullies do. That's why there are "consequences" and not "sanctions". They know they have no authority to "impose discipline" upon us.

Their hope is that, if we are "humbled" over these next three years of what they hope will be "ecclesiastical time out", then we will come to our senses and change our canons at General Convention in 2018.

We won't of course, but they live in "sure and certain hope" that we will. Their greatest fear is that we won't and we'll stay and then they'll have to eat their own words about wanting to "walk together".

I will never forget the words of John Guernsey, then priest in TEC and deputy to General Convention and now ordained bishop in Uganda and first bishop of the ACNA's Diocese of the Mid-Atlantic. He simply could not believe that Gene Robinson's election as Bishop of NH would be approved by General Convention. I remember him, actually pale and blinking in disbelief, saying, "I never thought you all would stay."

We have. And, they hate that the most. If they didn't, they wouldn't keep trying to get us to leave. 

4.  Our generosity is an embarrassment to the GAFCON Primates. 

Yes, we should continue our pledge to the Anglican Communion. I know. I know. It's counter intuitive. I confess that I have spent years scratching my head over "words of wisdom" in Scripture which encourage extending generosity to one's enemies.

Proverbs 25:21-22 says: "If your enemy is hungry, give him food to eat; And if he is thirsty, give him water to drink; For you will heap burning coals on his head, And the LORD will reward you."

And then there's that passage in Matthew, chapter 5, after the Beatitudes, in verses 38-48, where we are admonished not to "resist an evil person" (say, whaaat?) and, when slapped, to offer the other cheek and to "love your enemies and pray for those who persecute you." 


This is amplified in Luke 6:27-36, and Paul echos the teaching in Proverbs when he writes in his letter to the church in Rome (12:20): "On the contrary: "If your enemy is hungry, feed him; if he is thirsty, give him something to drink. In doing this, you will heap burning coals on his head."


It takes a great deal of emotional and spiritual maturity to understand that kindness and generosity in the face of cruelty and oppression is its own reward. It takes years of practicing that spiritual discipline to know that generosity in the face of a heart made small and shriveled by a strict adherence to the 'letter' and not the 'spirit' of the law provides its own form of punishment to the oppressor. 

Their faces burn with the hot coals of embarrassment because we are living the faith we profess.

5. We are either the "one, holy catholic and apostolic church" we profess in our Creed or we are not.  

If we withhold our pledge to the Anglican Communion, we are no different than the dioceses we criticize for withholding their pledges to The Episcopal Church, or parishes that withhold their pledges from the diocese, or individuals who withhold their pledges from the congregation - all because of theological differences. Or, more trivial disagreements about personality or pastoral style.

A pledge is more a reflection of our relationship with God than it is to the institution. "God causes the sun to rise on the evil and the good, and sends rain on the righteous and the unrighteous." (Matthew 5:45). If we rejoice to say that, and to proclaim God's unconditional love for us as an expectation others demonstrate for us, then we have to be willing to do the same. 

It's either "unconditional" love for unconditionally everyone - or it is not. 

We can not demand for ourselves what we are not willing to give to others.

We've been here before. We may end up coming here again. Perhaps in three years time. Perhaps sooner. That ought not set limits on our generosity. We ought not allow it to compromise the fullness of the cost of our membership in the Anglican Communion. 

Generosity in the face of oppression is one of the costs of discipleship. 

It is also one of its greatest rewards. 

6.  There is great power in martyrdom.

There is a part of me, in my more generous moments, when I want to thank the GAFCON Primates for what they have done.  

They have made us martyrs. In making us martyrs, they have aroused both sympathy and empathy for us around the world - even among those who are neither Anglican nor Christian. 

Just the other day, the Episcopal Bookstore got a call from across the Pond for all 175 lapel pins with shield of The Episcopal Church. Seems that a group of Church of England clergy want to wear them and hand them out to others at their next gathering, to show solidarity with us. 

The leadership of the United Church of Christ just issued a statement, standing in support of and solidarity with The Episcopal Church. I have no doubt other denominations will follow suit. 

Indeed, I have no doubt more provinces around the Anglican Communion will issue statements of solidarity - along with their intention to change the canons of their churches to allow full sacramental ministry to all of God's children - including marriage equality.

Ruth Gledhill, former religion correspondent for The Times who now writes for Christian Today, was deeply moved by the grace and generosity of spirit of our Presiding Bishop, Michael Curry. She's a lovely but tough woman who has had a front row seat to the Anglican culture wars since the early days. She wrote, in part: 

The saint emerging from this sad hour is not the Archbishop of Canterbury, nor any leader of the Global South churches.

It is the Primate of The Episcopal Church, Presiding Bishop Michael Curry.

The holiness in him and in his words is tangible. It is a genuine turning of the other cheek. He is not threatening to walk away, he is pledging his Church to walk together with all the Primates of the Anglican Communion.

It is his grace in the face of terrible rejection that shines out from this whole sorry episode.

I mean, seriously, people.  There's no denying the power of that.

We marvel at the stories of Gandhi's non-violent resistance against the cruel and oppressive forces in India. Our hearts are stirred by the images of young black students being taunted as they attempt to desegregate a lunch counter or, with arms linked, march on Washington or Selma in Martin Luther King's applications of Gandhi's non violent protests. 

This is how it works, folks. This is the power of civil disobedience to the oppressive structures and forces in the Anglican Communion.

7. This is part of our vocation as Christians who are Episcopalians in the Anglican Communion. 


Just listen to what Michael Curry, the Presiding Bishop who, himself, is a product of the Civil Rights Movement, had to say. You can catch the video and full statement here, but it's these words that stir my heart: 

We are the Episcopal Church, and we are part of the Jesus Movement, and that Movement goes on, and our work goes on. And the truth is, it may be part of our vocation to help the Communion and to help many others to grow in a direction where we can realize and live the love that God has for all of us, and we can one day be a Church and a Communion where all of God’s children are fully welcomed, where this is truly a house of prayer for all people. And maybe it’s a part of our vocation to help that to happen. And so we must claim that high calling; claim the high calling of love and faith; love even for those with whom we disagree, and then continue, and that we will do, and we will do it together.

I'm going to be so bold as to claim that, I believe that if we've been paying any attention at all to the last 40 years of the work of the Spirit in our midst, it IS in fact, part of our vocation to make the Anglican Communion a place where all of God's children are fully welcomed, where this is truly a house of prayer for all people.

We are blessed to be a blessing.

We are baptized into the priesthood of all believers. 

We are very members incorporate in the body of Christ.

We believe in one, holy, catholic and apostolic church. 

No one can take any of that from us.

This is why we stay. This is why we pay.

Because all has not yet been revealed.

Because if we leave, they win.

Because generosity is its own reward which is pleasing in God's sight.

Because we must live with our lives the faith we profess with our lips.

Because Jesus said, "Blessed are the meek, for they shall inherit the earth".

And, as our own Blessed Louie Crew Clay has of't reminded us, "The meek are getting ready."

We are Christians who are Episcopalians who are Anglican. 

We can do no other.

A force to be reckoned with

Sally Mitchell Bucklee

Sally Mitchell Bucklee, called “the dean of women in the Episcopal Church” by former Presiding Bishop Frank Griswold, died on January 8, 2016.  Her life was celebrated today at her beloved home parish, St. Philip's Episcopal Church in Laurel, MD.

She designed the service herself. Of course. And, it was wonderful.

There were also five women at the altar - two priests, two chalicists and a crucifer.

The rector said she didn't plan it that way. It just happened. Silly woman! Anyone who knew Sally knew immediately that she was orchestrating that one from heaven. 

We just call it "coincidence". 

Sally was a force to be reckoned with.

I can only imagine her reaction to the statement of the Primates this week, in which they outlined "consequences" for The Episcopal Church because it had made canonical changes to allow for full sacramental inclusion for all of God's people in the life of the church, including marriage equality.

Women serve at the altar at St. Philip's, Laurel, MD

I suspect she would have been first to point out that the Primates have no authority to impose "consequences" - much less "sanctions" - on anyone else except within their own provinces. 

"They're neither popes nor princes, " I can hear her say in that voice of hers, filled with the full authority of her baptism.

She would also have been quick to point out that "consequences" are things parents impose on naughty children.  It's also the hallmark of an abuser to blame the victim. "See, we don't want to do this because we love you, but you made us, so we have to."

"It's the death rattle of patriarchy," she'd say, shaking her head and adding, "Scared little boys, grabbing for power and authority they don't have. Pathetic."

Then, she'd be quick to put her arm around you and assure you of her love and support.  And then, she'd go off to 'work the phones', calling people to organize and coordinate a response.

Sally was a lifetime member and past President of The Episcopal Women's Caucus, which is one of the places our paths crossed. She was also a staunch supporter of IntegrityUSA. She never missed a Caucus Breakfast at General Convention, and she always made it her business to stop off at the booths of all the justice groups of The Consultation, talking with folks and strategizing with the various legislative lobbies on pending resolutions.

Sheila McJilton, rector, preaches the homily

I was fortunate enough to attend an Education for Ministry (EfM) mentor training weekend led by Sally. I learned so much from her, but mostly I learned the real difference between a teacher and a mentor.

"This is about the bonds of baptism," she'd say, "and the priesthood of all believers. Your job is not to pour information into their heads. They are adults. They will learn what they need to learn from what they read."

"You are to be a mentor to the EfM students and enable them to find, claim and celebrate the ministry of their own priesthood from what they learn in their studies."

That made EfM so much more meaningful for me - and, I think, the EfM students in my group. It certainly shaped and formed my own leadership in parochial ministry.

Indeed, when Jane Holmes Dixon was rector of St. Philip's, attendance in and/or graduation from EfM was required of anyone seeking an elected position of leadership in the church. 

Sally had a wonderfully imposing presence but she did her best work deep in the background, quietly enabling men and women to discern and then live into their baptismal vocation.  I think even she lost count of the number of women she supported in their journey toward ordination.

That number includes helping to raise up Jane Holmes Dixon as the second woman to be elected bishop suffragan in The Episcopal Church, in the Diocese of DC.

Sally was, undoubtedly, the "dean of women in The Episcopal Church".

The 85 year old body of Sally Mitchell Bucklee was laid to rest today, but her spirit continues to inspire and guide and mentor. Today, the church was filled with some of the women she mentored.

We wore our collars in honor of Sally. And, women's voice could be heard the loudest as we sang, "God of the Women" and "All Who Hunger Gather Gladly"

After her ashes had been interred next to those of her beloved husband Brian, who died in 2003, several ordained women came forward, picked up a handful of dirt, and tossed it into her grave.

"Goodbye, "we said, softly, as the dirt covered part of the urn.

Past Caucus Presidents: Carol Cole Flanagan and Elizabeth Kaeton

"See you again, Sally," one whispered, "rest well".

"Thank you, Sally," we each said, as we tossed a handful of dirt into the grave.

It's what women have done since the beginning of time.

We were there for her because she was there for us.

And, we wouldn't be where we are today without her.

She was a force to be reckoned with.  I have no doubt she'll continue to be just that in the place some call "eternal rest".

Well, maybe for some. But not women like Sally Bucklee

Her memory - like her life and ministry - will always be a blessing.

Go let your mama see you smile

There are so many things for which I am grateful this Thanksgiving Day.

This Thanksgiving, for some reason, while I'm so deeply grateful for those 10 souls who made their way to sit around the table with us and enjoy a repast made with loving hands, I find myself most grateful for the souls who have gone on home to Jesus.

That's the thing about Eucharist, the Great Thanksgiving we celebrate every Sunday. It's all about a having a heart filled with gratitude and having a foretaste of that heavenly banquet which we will share when we all finally get home.

It's probably not surprising that the "ear worm" I've had all day is the song which, for me, captures the essence of the day:  Gratitude and a foretaste of the heavenly banquet prepared for us.

It may sound odd to you, but as I've been cooking and baking and anticipating, I've been hearing Iris DeMent's song "Go on ahead and go home", which she wrote for the funeral of her eldest brother.  Her voice is deeply enriched by - and reflective of - the sights and sounds and spirituality of the Delta in which she was conceived and where she lived her life.

I've been thinking about the ways in which we have Eucharist - The Great Thanksgiving - at home. With our friends and family. Surrounded by those who have "gone ahead and gone home".

So, here's my Eucharist Day song to you and yours. On this Thanksgiving Day in a time of unprecedented violence and the constant threat of terror, may you know that:

In the deep of the night, In the deep of the night
By the river so still where sorrows come to heal
and wrongs are made right
Down in the deep of the night, In the deep of the night
On a creaking porch swing, the ancient ones sing
"everything is alright"

Go on ahead and go home
Go on ahead and go home
Boy, you've done your best
Time you took your rest in the sheltering loam
Go on ahead and go home
Go on ahead and go home

The spirits of the dead will meet you up ahead
You won't be alone

Go let your mama see you smile
Go let your mama see you smile

Mama's gonna wait however long it takes,
but it's sure been awhile
Go let your mama see you smile
Go let your mama see you smile
She's standing in the sun sayin'
"Boy, your works been done a long, long mile"

Down where the cotton grows tall
Down where the cotton grows tall
Where the bramble rose and blue hydrangea grows
beside the old mare's stall
Down where the cotton grows tall
Down where the cotton grows tall
And a fragrant delta breeze shakes the cypress trees
down deep in the Fall

In the deep of the night, In the deep of the night
By the river so still where sorrows come to heal
and wrongs are made right
Down in the deep of the night, In the deep of the night
On a creaking porch swing, the ancient ones sing
"everything is alright"

Advent Virtues

LL Bean Advent Calendar - Cape Elizabeth, ME Lighthouse

 

 

I've been looking around for a way for our children and grandchildren to observe Advent without observing "Advent," per se. 

That is, some of our kids are spiritual but not necessarily religious; one is Quaker, not Christian.

However, everyone in our family observes Christmas. Several times, in fact, with their family unit and their larger family and with us at "Little Christmas". Not just the Christ child, necessarily.

I suspect there are lots of families like us out there. 

So, with a little help from my friends on FaceBook, I've come up with 25 Virtues - I'm calling them "Advent Virtues" - that can be considered each of the 25 Days of Advent. They are not necessarily "Christian" but I think Baby Jesus and his parents, Mary and Joseph, would heartily approve.

My plan is to use them in an Advent Calendar - print them out on little strips of paper and tuck them into the drawer or pouch along with a traditional sweet treat.

They can also be printed on colored paper or ribbon to decorate an Advent Wreath.

Or, they might be printed on a strip of colored paper and hooked together to make garland for the tree or mantle.

Or, perhaps written on a slip of colored paper and put into a decorated jar and taken out one at a time on each of the days of Christmas.

These were written in no particular order. You may want to make them all in the same form of a "wish" or "bidding prayer". You may want to define a particular virtue in your own way. Or, you may want to compile your own list of virtues.

Please feel free to use them in whatever way suits you for your own family or intergenerational Advent church activity.

The first Sunday of Advent is November 29th. Prepare ye the way! 

ADVENT VIRTUES

Patience: May you have the grace to see what waiting brings.

Intelligence: May you use your mind to the benefit of yourself and others.

Kindness: May you know it and show it to humans and animals alike, and may in return to you in kind.

Perseverance: If you fall down seven times, may you get back up again eight times.

Moderation: May you find a balance between work and play and discover the path to wholeness of life. 

Courage: When you are afraid, may you be able to walk through your fear.

Thankfulness: May you always know that everyone needs help at some point. Including you.

Confidence: May you always have faith in yourself.

Curiosity: May a sense of awe and wonder lead you to learning and discovery.

Faith: May you have the courage to trust without reservation that all will be well.

Humility: May your mistakes always be opportunities to learn – and share.

Compassion: May you always want to help, even if all it means is to listen and say kind words.

Excellence: May your every effort be guided by an impulse for nobility and a desire for perfection.

Generosity: May you know that whatever you give away will come back to you in other ways.

Forgiveness: When you or others make a mistake, have faith that you – and they – can change.

Idealism: May you dare to have big dreams and act as if they are possible.

Tolerance: May you understand that people have feelings, hopes and dreams, just like you, only different.

Honesty: May you accept yourself as you are so that others may trust in you and rely on you.

Enthusiasm: May the inspiration you draw from life find its way to inspire others.

Courtesy: May you speak and act with kindness and respect so others feel affirmed and valued.

Wisdom: May you reside in the place where mind and heart meet.

Creativity: May you see things in new ways and find different ways to solve problems.

Peacefulness: May you give up the love of power for the power of love.

Joy: May your spirit shine like the sun, bringing light and warmth to you and all those around you.

Love: May your heart be open to all of life's creatures and creation.

What's Your Cookie?

NB - The following is a meditation I gave this morning for my Hospice Team

As I was looking over my charts last night, I noted how many times I included "Life Review" in my care plans. I seem to do a lot of 'life review' in my visits, in several different ways, using several different approaches and techniques. Some of you might do that, too.

Of course, there's the "interview" data-gathering phase where you gather the basic information about the patient. But then I find myself circling back to go a bit deeper into the patient/family's life story. Sometimes, if there's time and the patient /family have an appropriate available level of insight, I'll ask this question:

Is there anyone in your life - a friend, a family member, a neighbor, a teacher, a celebrity - who said something or did something or you observed something about them that changed the course of your life or inspired you?

One woman who answered that question really surprised me.  Her inspiration?

"Cookie Monster," she said, with a bright smile on her face.

"Cookie Monster changed your life?" I asked.

"Oh yes," she responded, sitting up in her chair. 

"I was watching Sesame Street with my kids one day. In this particular episode, Cookie Monster was on a game show of some sort. If he answered the question correctly, he could choose his reward from behind one of three doors."

"Behind door number one," she continued, "was 'a million dollars'! Behind door number two was 'a brand new car'! And, behind door number three was . . . ."

She paused, her eyes glistening as we said together, "A cookie!"

"Of course," she continued, "Cookie answered the question correctly. And, of course, he chose the prize . . . . 'Behind door number three! A COOKIE!'," we said in unison, doing our best impression of Cookie Monster. 

We giggled for a bit and then she said, "And, you know, right then and there I said to myself, 'Gee, I wonder what MY cookie is'. I wonder what it is in my life that I love so much that money doesn't matter or nice things don't matter. As long as I've got even the possibility of getting that which is my 'cookie' in life, I'm happy."

"When I found my 'cookie'," she said, "when I was able to name it and say it, life became worth living. And now that I know the end in sight, I don't have too many regrets. Well, just that I wish I had more time to enjoy even more of my cookies."

So the question I bring to you this week, for your consideration and meditation is: What is your 'cookie'? 

Is it your work as a nurse or nurse practitioner or a social worker or a doctor or an administrator? Is being able to do that work what makes your life have joy and passion, no matter what you are paid or what 'things' you have in your life?

Is it your family? As long as you have your family, everything else in in service of them? Neither the work you do or the things you have are more important than those people?

Part of it for me is the gift of my faith.  I call my faith a gift because I certainly didn't do anything to deserve it or earn it. I question it all the time. And yet, it is with me always, even in difficult times. It brings me great joy. And it really doesn't matter how much I'm paid for dong the work - well, within reason, Madam Clinical Director. My Mama didn't raise no fool - I love living my faith. It puts everything else in perspective.

As you go through this day, this week, I ask that you consider this question: What is your 'cookie' in life? Because, once you get clear about that, lots of other questions begin to find a path to their answers. And, it is on that path where you will go beyond happiness and right smack dab into joy.

Or, as Cookie Monster would sing, "C is for Cookie, dat's good enough for me."

Amen.