Pope Joe Pa: Buh-Bye

There are lots of things I could blog about, but tonight I am shaking my head in amazement and horror at the destruction of a giant of American college football.
Joe Paterno, head coach of the Penn State Nittany Lions for 46 years, has been fired in the wake of the sexual abuse scandal involving his former defensive co-ordinator.  The story is tragic.  Jerry Sandusky joined the Penn State coaching staff in 1969, and eight years later, begins a program called Second Mile in 1977.  He sets up group foster homes for troubled boys who either have no family or come from dysfunctional backgrounds.  And it is from this setting that Sandusky meets his victims... as many as nine boys... who he would take to the showers at the Penn State football stadium and abuse them.  According to the timeline in the grand jury indictment, numerous people, sometimes the parents of the boys and sometimes university employees, saw or learned of the abuse and reported it.
But nothing happened.
And the worst was the graduate assistant who saw Sandusky having sex with a 10 year-old in the showers.  The grad assistant didn't intervene to save the boy.  Instead he told his father, and the next day went to Head Coach Joe Paterno and told him.   Sandusky wasn't even on the official coaching staff, but was some kind of "coach emeritus" with the team.
Did Paterno call the cops?  No, he called the athletic director.  Did the athletic director call the cops?  No, instead everyone promises to "look into it."  Sandusky has his keys taken away.  But not his freedom.
This was in 2002 when there were a number of headlines about the Roman Catholic Church's own issues with child sex abuse.  And Paterno is Catholic.   His response to the news that something was rotten in the showers of his vaunted football progam is too reminiscent of how his Holy See also preferred to look the other way as it became apparent that the church would shuffle pedophiles from one parish to another.
Paterno had announced earlier today that he would retire at the end of this, his 46th season.  The 84 year-old coach probably still believed that his legacy could still be salvaged.  Certainly, everyone would remember his "Great Experiment" of making championship-worthy football go hand-in-hand with great academics.  He probably wanted to add another win to his record of 409, more than any other coach in college football. 
Instead, the Board of Trustees have told Joe Pa: Na Na Na Na Hey Hey Good-Bye.  Same with the University President. 
Like I said, it's all tragic and sad.  Especially for Victims numbers 1-9. 
Most college sports teams are shaken up by financial misdeeds by boosters, or athletes breaking the law, or college tutors cheating on behalf of the players to keep the athlete eligible to play.   But raping young boys in the team shower?  Sorry, Joe Pa.  If you knew and did nothing, you do not deserve to leave on your terms. 
 

How Time Flies: Happy Birthday, NACC

Yesterday was a marathon day with many appointments with clients and meetings at the church and read-throughs for a radio script for the Mickee Faust Club.  When I finally sat down at the computer at 11pm, and opened my blog roll, I was reminded that November 3rd--aka Richard Hooker Day-- was the day a group of us in the blogosphere launched the No Anglican Covenant Coalition. 

The goal was simple: an online campaign to educate the global Communion about the dangers of adopting a document designed to centralize power in the Anglican Communion to a group of bishops and others in the hierarchy who would dictate what's what, and sanction any Church that doesn't do as they say.   It is, in my opinion, a throwback to the days of the Oxford Movement and this idea that somehow we had lost our way and need correction for "orthodoxy" sake.  And, much as the supporters of the Anglican Covenant have tried to deny this, it is a punishing document that attempts to do the unthinkable: streamline thinking in the Anglican Communion.

Study the history of the development of the Church of England and the Anglican Communion and you'll see that we, those who have bought into communal relationship, have always been a motley crew that were held together by belief in a Triune God... and conviction that one should apply reason to scripture and church tradition (thank you, Richard Hooker).   To suddenly decide that we need to agree to "What is an Anglican" is absurd and arrogant.   And it seems from accounts around the world, the only ones who can agree to the Covenant's terms are the ones sitting on island nation in Europe, sipping their tea and repeating the line that the Covenant is "the only way forward."   As MadPriest notes, this insistence will be the death of the Church of England.

I have not been as active a member in the No Anglican Covenant Coalition during the past several months.  I care about what's happening and I'm impressed with the work our group has done to assemble documents and arguments, not to mention the countless blog entries all of us have written.  Our international leader, Revd. Dr. Lesley Crawley, has done well to keep our message out there as has our stateside leader Lionel Deimel.  There is a certain soap opera-like quality to the Anglican Covenant storyline that allows me to check in and out and still know--roughly--what's happening while I continue to eek out a living and participate in the church as a member of the laity.   My own contribution to the Coalition has been the occasional bit of humor as expressed through the Bishop YellowBelly series which can be found HERE.  Between me and Mr. CatOLick, I think we have used comedy to the best effect of pointing out the ridiculousness of the Covenant.

The latest news is that yet another Maori member of the Communion has rejected the Covenant.  In the United States, dioceses are rolling out their rejections of the document as we countdown to our General Convention in Indianapolis next July.  I haven't heard what the Diocese of Florida wants to do with it, and we usually don't get that news unless we call Jacksonville and ask for it.  I probably won't make that call until early next year.  I have a feeling that as much as our Bishop enjoys the Lambeth Conference too many on this side of the pond are seeing the Covenant as a ham-fisted way to solve a perceived problem.  And those of us who have lived through the schisms and the wailing and gnashing of teeth from the "more orthodox than thou" believe that this document only continues to stir pot whose contents have already been emptied.

The only way forward is simply to move forward.  Boldly and bumbling as we attempt to run without stumbling to obtain the heavenly promises of God.  Nix the Covenant and let's get on with it. 

Into the Cloud of Witnesses

As one might expect, I awoke this morning with the All Saints' hymn running through my head.

For all the saints who from their labors rest...

I was thinking about all who have passed in the last 12 months, both family members, fathers of friends, and especially the pioneers and the prophets of the gay civil rights movement.  There is a lovely entry over at Jesus in Love that commemorates the LGBT saints who have died since this time last year.  And this morning, I learned of one more.

Axel Axgil, who was among the first out gay leaders in Denmark and helped to make that country the first in Europe, and the world, to legalize same-sex partnerships, passed away on Saturday from complications related to a fall.  He was 96. 

O may thy soldiers, faithful, true, and bold, fight as the saints who nobly fought of old...

Axgil was born Axel Lundahl-Madsen.  He was one of the founders of LGBT Danmark... then known as Forbundet af 1948 or F-48, The Association... in 1948.   He and his partner, Eigil Eskildsen, were sentenced to a short prison term on pornography charges in 1955 for running a gay male modeling agency that took nude photos of men.  While in prison, they melded their first names into a new surname--Axgil--in an act of public defiance. They, along with others, fought for decades for the right to have gay relationships recognized by the government.  They persevered and on October 1, 1989, they joined  10 other couples in becoming the first to enter into a civil union and gain many of the same rights as heterosexual Danes.  Denmark finally granted LGBT couples the right to adopt children last year.

A quote in the Washington Post from Vivi Jelstrup of LGBT Danmark said that Axgil never saw the struggle as "his" cause.

"He was a modest man...He always underscored that there were many involved in the work and that it was a common cause.”

Eigil Axgil died on September 22, 1995.

O blest communion fellowship divine!  We feebly struggle, they in glory shine; yet all are one in thee for all are thine.

Reading stories about men such as Axel Axgil remind me that I am part of a continuum of the saints who have worked to bring this world forward in the struggle for full equality for all people.  Many have gone before me to lift valleys up and bring mountains a little closer to the ground so that there is a level playing field.  Each of us, whether we are standing on a corner with a bullhorn crying out for justice, or simply presenting our full selves without apology before our neighbors, are helping to clear the path and make it a little wider for the next generation to travel toward a fair and just world. 

So often we think of saints as the ones who have died.  But really All Saints' Day is the time to realize that while some are now immortal, those of us still in this realm are continuing their good works and we are part of the tribe of sainthood.  We are to carry on what they have done and accomplish more before it's our turn to rest.     

Alleluia, alleluia!

Happy Halloween

Happy Halloween everyone!

First off... I need a name for this pumpkin with a tin foil hat.  Yes, a tin foil hat should give you a HUGE hint as to what I'm looking for in a name.

Halloween is one of my favorite holidays because it recalls memories of my dad indulging me in my wildest fancies of costumes, be it transforming an old blue sweatshirt into a superman costume, or helping me to transform into Henry VIII (although I was a scrawny King of England). But his speciality was to take my intricate jack o'lantern designs and make them come to life.  Nothing was too outrageous or too complicated for his carving work.  And so it was with great pleasure during the last years of his life, when he was right arm was paralyzed and he was unable to create a jack o'lantern, that I would carry a table, newspapers and knives to his assisted living facility to carve a pumpkin for him.  We'd talk over what kind of face he wanted, and I would go to work.  He'd watch me as I would prattle on about whatever.  And I'd check in with him to make sure I was "doing this right."  In the end, he smiled and complimented me on my art work.  I used to like him to make scary-faced pumpkins.  But living in "the home", his preference was to have a smiley-faced gourd.

It's appropriate I think to reminiscence about such things at this time of year.  For the pagans, this is one of their highest of holy days--Samhain--where the veil between the worlds is at its thinnest and there is much communing with the ancestors.  Not surprisingly, Christians also celebrate this time of year with All Saints Day tomorrow and remembering all those who have died in the past year.  We hold their lives up in commemoration of their passing and in the hope that one day we, too, will be marching with them and all the company of heaven.

There is comfort in remembering the times of fun I had with my dad, both as a child and as an adult.  But I don't believe his spirit dwells that close to me as if he were in some parallel universe with just a thin curtain separating us.  At this point, the markers of my dad are the ones that are in my mind and heart as well as one-half of my DNA.  My father's spirit, I believe, has ascended to some height and a new dimension of life that I can't even begin to understand and explain.  I suppose that is part of the mystery.  And I can wait to have that riddle unfold later.

Now, what are we gonna call that pumpkin?

Love is a Four-Letter Word

I was privileged to witness a beautiful wedding today.

My two friends, Sarah and Margeaux, were smudged (and handcuffed) in a ceremony that celebrated their love, beauty and levity of their relationship.  And it happened in the state of Florida, which specifically prohibits same-sex marriage.  But this was all legal.  Margeaux, an MTF transgender, had retained some of the "male markers" that allowed for this to be a "legitimate" marriage ceremony by the state's standards.

It was very special to be part of this moment.  These two make a lovely couple, and the story of their meeting (aided in part by my buddy Jimmers in a devil costume at Halloween) was priceless and spoke to how when one meets a soul mate, you just know it's right.  And gender?  Who cares!  I'm convinced that God does not ... nor did the man in the devil outfit.

There are so many in this state that would like to have the opportunity to pledge their love to their life partner in a public ceremony witnessed by friends and family, and have it really count.  But until there is a revolution to change the constitution, we must go elsewhere to get married.  Many of my friends have made arrangements to marry in Massachusetts, Vermont, DC, and even some got hitched during that brief period in California.  The transgender community can, in some cases, exploit the loopholes about "one man, one woman" in the law to get around the ridiculous barriers. 

After the wedding proper, the conversation among some of us turned to the topic of the law and its discrimination.   We appreciated Margeaux's remarks about the intentionality of her decision to keep some of the "male markers" in place so that she and Sarah could legally be married.  All of us were for it, and all of us agreed that it is wrong that anyone should have to do that.  We marveled at the willingness of some to stand firmly and squarely in opposition to love.  Because that's what it really boils down to: opposing love.  They are so threatened by the idea that two people of the same gender might love one another.  And for that, we have to have a constitutional amendment?  As one person said, "Love is a four-letter word."  Sadly, so is fear.  And it is the latter that seems to dominate whenever the discussion arises of permitting the LGBT community some share in that pursuit of life, liberty and happiness.

Margeaux said at the ceremony that she hopes for a day when we there won't be a prohibition against LGBT people getting married to the person who they love.  I have that same hope. 

Stewardship Revelation

Oh, boy! Oh, boy!  We’re entering into the final weeks of this year’s readings in the Daily Office and that means one thing:  Revelation!

The Book of Revelation to John really is a part of the Bible that I think must have been authored by the creator of Calvin and Hobbes (the cartoon… not the theologian and philosopher).   Either that, or John got into some funny mushrooms.   You’ve got creatures with wings and multiple eyes and dragons and lambs and horsemen and mayhem and a new heaven and a new earth.  It’s really whacky reading and the kind of stuff an imaginative child might relish.  And it certainly isn’t boring.

What struck me in reading the Revelation passage assigned for today (besides imagining lions and eagles with lots of eyes) was the scene of the four winged creatures and the twenty-four elders bowing to God and saying, “You are worthy, our Lord and God, to receive glory and honor and power for you created all things, and by their will they existed and were created.”  That sentence reminds me of what I often heard the priest say at the altar on Sundays before beginning the liturgy of the table:

“All things come of thee, O Lord, and of thine own have we given thee.”

Until recently, that phrase would pass through one ear and out the other.  Nothing snagged it in my brain, forcing me to contend with its meaning.  

Then along came the stewardship campaign. 

Just as predictable as readings from Revelation showing up in the lectionary at the end of the Church year, it is equally as regular that the mid-fall season means the beginning of the stewardship campaign; that time when some appointed people in the church are called on to help the rector reach out to the rest of the congregation and commit some hard cold cash for a year.  The church exists for God, but God doesn’t pay the utility bills.  And in this human, earthly realm, the church needs money for the privilege of existence on a city block.

I used to get really uncomfortable about stewardship campaigns.  I didn’t like people asking me to make a commitment of money to the church because I didn’t want to be “pinned down” to give a specific amount.  I felt scared by the whole thing; what if I couldn’t pay my pledge?  Would I get kicked out of the congregation as a free-loader?   

My anxiety changed one day as I was in my massage office waiting for a client.  I had been asked to be on the stewardship committee for the parish, and thus was having to face my own fears and doubts about money, what I could afford, and how would I budget for a pledge.  I realized that money held a lot of energy and power over me.  And the only way for me to keep money from staring at me like some looming ogre was to take a more Buddhist approach to the green stuff.  I had to learn to detach from it. 

This is easier said than done.  But as I thought about that line, “All things come of thee, O Lord, and of thine own have we given thee,” I thought about the transfer of money especially that which I called, “my money.”  “My money” is never really “my money.”  It isn’t really something I own; it’s on loan to me to then move it along to someone or something else.  I don’t necessarily believe that our currency is “God’s money.”  But what we do with it and how we relate to it will influence our stewardship of all things.  And if we believe that God created all things, then we are bound to treat all things with care and respect.   This includes the bits of copper, silver and dollars that make up that thing called, “money.”  Adopting a philosophy toward money like that, I found it easier to conceive of making a pledge.  I could find an amount that had significance to me, and then I could let it go without feeling a need or a demand or sensing that I was in any way  still emotionally, spiritually or psychically attached to this check that I had written. 

The church gets the money that had been in my hands and in someone else’s hands before that to put that money to use in supplying a space for people to gather to worship, meet and have fellowship.  Thanks be to God for that.

Covenant? No, Thank You

It's been a long time since I have posted anything about the painful process of Provinces, Churches, Dioceses etc. reviewing the so-called Anglican Communion Covenant.  But this morning, a report I saw posted from The Lead indicates that our executive council of the Episcopal Church has said it will recommend a "No" vote on signing the Anglican Covenant at our General Convention in 2012. 

This after the diocese of California also said it will say, "No."   Not to mention many other dioceses and members of the Communion.  Generally, it seems the only ones really gung-ho for the document are the ones at Lambeth Palace.  And my impression of that lot is that they will dig their heels in and insist the AC is "the only way forward" until it chokes them to death.

And the beat goes on.