Ashes to Ashes, Part I

We are at the beginning of the day in which we, those Christians who observe a Holy Lent, are beckoned to come home to our selves and see what kind of a house we've built. Is it a place with windows that are clear and allow light to shine in and out? Are our closets stuffed with more than skeletons? Are there clothes that no longer fit? Shoes that hurt our feet? Is our cupboard bare? How each of us evaluates and answers these questions are entirely one-on-one with the One whom we meet on this day for the home inspection.

The Good News is that whatever isn't right in our house can be fixed, picked up, straightened out. And we've got the next 40 days to get the repairs done. But we have to be willing to see what isn't right, and then we have to do what it takes to get our place pulled together.

That, to me, is what it means to keep a Holy Lent. But first, we have to endure the day known as Ash Wednesday. I say, "endure" because I sometimes feel this day is treated like a day of woe, misery, and self-flaggellation. I will address that in my Part II of that post for this evening. In the meantime, I leave it to all of you to close your eyes, and go inside this house that you're in. And don't be afraid or ashamed to see the cobwebs and the clutter. Notice it, evaluate it, and then make the plan to clean it up.

Pancakes and Prayers

 

 

It's Mardi Gras time!!  And today was my last day to indulge in lots of fatty foods before tomorrow's start of the Lenten season.  Just as with Christmas, I don't know if I'm exactly ready for Lent.  It is hitting awfully early this year.  I mean, pre-birthday Ash Wednesday?  That just seems wrong.

 

Or maybe it's just right.  At this point in my spiritual journey, I feel that I'm entering into some choppy waters.  It started this past weekend in Georgia, and now we're entering that season of reckoning which every year seems to yield difficult, but never fatal, lessons from which I am to pay attention and incorporate into my day-to-day existence.  Perhaps giving me a birthday at the start of this gives me at least a ray of joy as I set sail into the sea.

 

"Weeping may spend the night, but joy comes in the morning."  These words of the psalmist are definitely ones that reflect my past several nights into morning.  But just as true are the words later in the psalm, "You have turned my wailing into dancing; you have put off my sack-cloth and clothed me with joy.  Therefore my heart sings to you without ceasing; O Lord my God, I will give you thanks for ever."

 

I will be interested to see what tomorrow brings.  And I will be content in my present.

Grace in Fourteen Minutes

Several of us attending Georgia's Diocesan Convention in Tifton this weekend were anxious as the delegates moved swiftly through resolutions on changing the date of their next annual church meeting to November, the budget, the suggested tithe to The Episcopal Church, parochial reports. Luckily, the morning began with the youth of the diocese giving testimony in song, story and video, about their camp experiences to keep the adults in the room grounded in what's important to their future. And I noted how many times the teenagers talked about their time at Honey Creek camp for what is called "Happening," as a period when they could be themselves and not have to pretend to be somebody they are not.

What a perfect prelude to a vote on Title IV Canon 1: Ethical Standards, also known as, "that" canon.

Back in the days when the election and consecration of Gene Robinson to the episcopate meant that all other dioceses went haywire and needed to protect themselves against maybe calling a gay person in New Hampshire to be a bishop, Georgia responded with adopting Title IV Canon 1 which read:

"Marriage between a man and a woman or abstinence from sexual activity are the only forms of acceptable sexual behavior for Deacons, Priests, or Bishops."

The intention of this canon was clear. It was a way to keep out the LGBT faithful and tell God who God was allowed to call to ordained ministry. Any gay person that God might call into "the process" would have to vow celibacy or lie and pretend to be somebody they are not. Not exactly a Happening experience, if you know what I mean.

On Friday, the delegates looked at the proposed change to the canon. There had been one more edit made in the language that was not in their prepared packets. If there's one thing Episcopalians can do, it's argue over the words and the meaning of words, so the addition definitely caught folks attention. The amended proposal read:

"Deacons, Priests, and Bishops in the Diocese of Georgia are called to be wholesome examples to the Church exhibited in the teachings and virtues of the Gospel of Jesus Christ. In their personal lives, those called to chaste singleness must abstain from sexual intimacy; those not so called must manifest faithfulness, monogamy, life-long commitment, mutual caring, and healthy caring for themselves and their families. Their public lives must show financial honesty, confidentiality as required, respect of interpersonal and professional boundaries, and the avoidance of fraud, deceit, and deliberate misrepresentations."

Here endeth the proposal... Thanks be to God!

Debate swirled around what was the meaning of "monogamy." Some wanted to know why all the categorizations "financial honesty, healthy caring, etc. etc." At dinner, I was with a group of folks from Integrity Georgia. We were all wondering, "Why do they need all of this language anyway? There's a national canon on ethical behavior; why not go with that?"

Clearly, we were not the only ones having this lightbulb moment.

When the convention finally reached the point of discussing this proposed change it was 9:54AM. The rector of St. Peter's Episcopal Church in Savannah, Rev. Sam Buice, made a motion chock full of "Whereas" clauses, all to get to the main idea:

We have a national canon. We have a Commission on Ministry. They aren't idiots. Let them follow the national canon and let's just strike this whole ethical standard and follow the one set by our Church's governing authority.

It was one of those moments where you could feel the whole room shift its collective thinking and realize that there was elegance in simplicity.

I say, "whole room," but there were detractors. Some really felt that they needed to hold onto the standard as it was currently written. There was even a motion made to delay any vote on the matter until the next convention, which would be in November 2014. That was easily defeated by a show of hands.

Back to the "strike-all and insert nothing."

A priest from Augusta went to the microphone, and called the question. Seconded. Bishop Benhase explained again what it meant to vote Yes or No. Rather than a voice vote, it was done by a show of hands. The No's had about a dozen. The Yes's were a veritable sea of phalanges. The motion to strike the whole thing, and accept the national canon was accepted. It was 10:08AM.

In fourteen minutes, the Diocese of Georgia opened its gates to those who have stood waiting on the other side. My body trembled in amazement at witnessing the event. And just as quickly as I absorbed what had just happened, I knew what I would have to do.

My spiritual director had sat between me and a priest named Gavin from Savannah. Rev. Gavin had voted No on the resolution. And I knew this development likely troubled him greatly.

"Excuse me," I said to him, "My name's Susan Gage. I know you voted No on that resolution. I just want to thank you for being here, and for voting your conscience, and" placing my hand lightly and briefly on the left lapel of his jacket, "following your heart."

"Thank you for your graciousness," he said.

"You're from Savannah?"

"Yes, St. John's in Savannah."

"I know you've gone through hell there..."

"Yes, it has been very painful."

"I'm from St. John's in Tallahassee, Florida. We've experienced that, too. So I know what you are talking about."

"Thank you."

"God's peace be with you," I concluded.

"And also with you. Thank you."

And again, grace occurring, and this time in one minute or less between two strangers who were clearly on opposite sides of the issue. My prayer is that Gavin, and the other Gavins in the Diocese of Georgia, not walk away, but continue to stay with the diocese. They, like me, are members, together, in this greater thing called The Body of Christ. And it takes all parts of the body functioning in order to propel it forward in motion.

The fact that Gavin allowed me to talk to him, I hope, is a good sign and evidence that God is working God's purpose out as year succeeds to year at least in the Diocese of Georgia.

What's A Nice Girl Like You Doing at a Diocesan Convention Like This?

My spiritual director is possibly as persistent as the Holy Spirit.

I have been working with her for a year now, and so she has observed my journey, both the ups and downs as I am living them and experiencing them in my context of a diocese that has refused to step up on the issues of LGBT inclusion. And if you are reading this blog, you know that LGBT inclusion in the Body of Christ is one of the driving forces in my life and ministry.

And so, since my SD is canonically resident in the Diocese of Georgia, she put it before me that I could come to their Diocesan convention in Tifton, and see how things are done north of the border. This was an offer, and I could have refused. But if I had, I have a feeling I would have been, how shall we say... wrong.

So, I'm here. In Tifton. With Georgia Episcopalians. And it's a hoot and a challenge!

I attended a workshop on Social Media and the Church Thursday, and got a few pointers on how to use the tools such as Facebook and Twitter (and YouTube and Instagram and Four Square...) to reach a varied population. It confirmed many things I already knew, and it taught me a few things I didn't know. That's what workshops are for, right?

Thursday night, I went to Evening Prayer at St. Anne's in Tifton. It was a beautifully simple service with a great sermon that set the tone on mission and, to borrow the wisdom of the late Gov. Lawton Chiles, taught the congregation how to see beyond oneself, so that we can be "a community, not a crowd." Mission is the theme for this conference. Living out one's Christianity beyond the walls of the church and what that looks like is the thread throughout the presentations. And it's being done with seriousness and wonkiness, with plenty of silliness and fun videos to keep you from falling asleep.

There is good news and bad news at the Georgia Convention. The bad news is what many churches across the country already know: people aren't coming to church or pledging the way they did back in the days of President Eisenhower and the novelty of owning a television set. The world has changed... a lot! Even in Georgia. But the good news is that the diocesan bishop and staff believe that the people in Georgia are ready for change. And that includes changing the diocesan canon that prohibits LGBT people from being allowed to pursue a call to ordained ministry.

Bishop Scott Benhase, who has taken it on the chin from some of the progressives in the church for his less-than-outstanding adaptation of the approved same-sex blessing rite, has spent time vetting the idea to change the ethical standards for those entering the discernment process so that an LGBT candidate COULD be considered for ordained ministry. There was a listening tour. There were meetings. And ultimately, there is now a resolution up for a vote at this convention.

Predictably, there were those... many from Savannah... who are not happy about this proposed change and what it could (and does) mean. Savannah, you might recall, has had its share of ugly with the hijacking of Christ Church Cathedral, and schism and squatters and lawsuits. Their pain is very similar to the trauma that places like my beloved St. John's experienced with "the split." There were also many people, straight couples, who voiced their support for the change.

But if one listens to the Bishop, he is challenging them to open their hearts a little wider. In his opening address, he noted that there are still places in the diocese where petty bickering still exists.

"This sucks the life out of mission," he noted. "Let's get over this stuff and move ahead."

The bishop took this plea up a notch in his sermon at the Eucharist last night. He issued what he called his own "altar call" to the assembled congregation. But this wasn't like your Baptist idea of come to the front of the church, and renounce all your wicked ways, and accept Jesus as your personal, carry-around-in-your-pocket, Lord and Savior. This was an Episcopal altar call. And so when we were to come to the rail, we were to think on what are the "things" we are clinging to that are weighing us down. And then we are to put those down at the rail, and leave them there.
Bishop Benhase went further at the time of the offertory. He called on us to reconcile ourselves to anyone whom we are having a dispute, and then, and only then, come to receive the body and blood of Christ.

For the LGBT faithful in the room, his message could not have been any more clear if you consider the resolution from their perspective.

For this LGBT person of faith, his message could not have been any more difficult to absorb.

For me, the Bishop's challenge was intensely personal when I consider my own path. Because what I have to consider is whether I will be willing to give up Florida, give up the idea that I can ever be called to ordained ministry in Florida. I have been hearing the words of Isaiah in my ears for several weeks now: "The Spirit of The Lord is upon me." I think She is. And I think the Spirit is poking at me harder and harder.

At St. Anne's, there is an icon of Jesus in the sanctuary. That icon was in my line of sight at Evening Prayer, staring at me over the Baptismal font. There is also Jesus on the crucifix behind the altar. But their Christ is not a Corpus Christi. He is a living Christ, arms open to the world. And that Christ was in my line of vision when I went to receive the Eucharist. And due to the crowd, I was left there at the rail for a long time to consider, as I consumed the Body of Christ, the question: will I lay down Florida to follow Christ?

People have asked me what I'm doing here. I'm being disturbed.

Love and Suspension of Disbelief

The diviners of the Episcopal Church lectionary have cobbled together a curious group of readings: the beginnings of Jeremiah the prophet; the famous passage from Paul's First Letter to the Corinthians that so often gets used at marriage blessings; and finally, Jesus teaching in the synagogue to a crowd, who are at first amazed, and then so royally ticked off that they nearly hurl him off a cliff.

My favorite part of that Gospel story is the last line: "But he passed through the midst of them and went on his way." That reminds me of the Mickee Faust parody of 1940s radio plays, "Jake Ratchett: Short Detective," in which our diminutive hero is surrounded by an all-girl gang with their guns aimed at his head. He gets away by simply stating, "I escaped that time!" No other explanation needed. The audience laughs at the absurdity of it all, and suspends disbelief in order to allow Jake to get away. I suppose we are to do the same with Jesus.

Suspension of disbelief, in theater, means that the audience must pretend that physical or time and space improbabilities aren't important enough to dwell upon. The audience accepts whatever world it is that the actors and actresses and the technical designers have created. This fantasy then becomes the reality. In some respect, I think to have faith requires a willingness to let go of critical analysis and acknowledge the unbelievable as totally believable.

It takes faith, and the suspension of disbelief, to be willing to accept that God would speak to one such as Jeremiah, who argues that he is not the best candidate to be the bearer of God's word as a prophet. Jeremiah himself says, "Ah, Lord God, truly I do not know how to speak for I am only a boy." But in God's reality, Jeremiah is exactly the one to be a prophet. After all, God knew him before he was in the womb, and consecrated him before he was born. And so God puts the words into Jeremiah's mouth, giving him the power to "pluck up and pull down; destroy and overthrow; to build and to plant." It isn't often these days that God places finger tips to lips to give people the words to say what needs to be said. At least, we don't, in our very rational and reasoned minds, believe that God gives us the words to say.

The night my father told me he wanted to die, I remember that he was in such terrible pain and he couldn't articulate to me what was happening. I struggled mightily to understand him, but his mouth and tongue just couldn't form the words in a language I could recognize. Now, I was not going to church in these days, nor did I pay much attention to God at all. But in desperation, I looked up at the ceiling, tears streaming down my cheeks, and begged God for help. It was then that I had the realization that what I needed to do was instruct my father to breathe out each word, one at a time, so I could get what he was saying. I gave my dad these instructions, and he spoke plainly, and clearly, to say, "I. Want. Outta. Here." I double-checked that I understood what he'd just said, and wanted to clarify if he meant out of his assisted living home, or out of the whole she-bang.

"Whole. She. Bang!"

Difficult as that conversation was to have with my father, it was also a moment of deep and abiding love made possible by the wisdom of God. I could claim that I thought of this idea to get my dad to breathe out each word, but it really wasn't my idea. The reality was, I didn't know what to do. The faith element was that I sought God's intervention into that moment to make communication possible.

When St. Paul talks about love being patient and kind, the love he is speaking of is not an emotion. It is God. God who is also known as Love. The Love that bears all things and believes all things and can make things happen in those moments when we just don't have the ability to speak words of wisdom. This is the Love that casts out fear to bring about peace and acceptance in a conversation between a dying parent and a child.

This is the same Love that was on the lips of Jesus when he riled up the crowd in the synagogue. He had just wowed them with his teaching on the prophet Isaiah by telling them that the prophesy he'd just read was fulfilled by them hearing it. They were enthralled, but then he told them the things they didn't want to hear: that Israel has had many widows and lepers amidst its people, but the ones to whom the prophets Elijah and Elisha tended to and visited were not Jews; they were Gentiles. This enraged the crowd, who were fuming at the idea that they were not as deserving of the great prophets' attention as the Gentiles. Were they not the loved ones of Love?

Yes, they were. But Love is not envious or boastful or rude. We might also extend this idea to mean that Love is not exclusive or limited to a single group. And in this case, speaking in Love means telling the truth about those whom the Israelites saw as "others." There are no boundaries when we are talking about the Love that endures all things. Because that Love is the reflection of God's very inclusive reality.

Our task is to enter into that reality, not just as audience members, but as actors and actresses in the play, and be willing to suspend...or even give up... our disbelief. That's when God's reality becomes our reality, too.

Mississippi Goddam? No, Damn Good!

The title of this post may be a bit off-putting unless you know the music of Nina Simone. The artist sang with power and purpose her anger with the state of Mississippi and its deplorable treatment of blacks during the civil rights struggle. Her feelings were justified. They were painful, and understandable.

Mississippi is not one of the nation's progressive leaders. I bear a personal grudge against the state after a trooper pulled his gun on me when he stopped my friend along I-10. Granted, I should never have attempted to approach the man to ask a question, but I was also unarmed. Never was I happier to get over the border into Alabama. And THAT is saying something!

All of this to say that when I saw the headline from Episcopal Cafe that Bishop Duncan Gray of Mississippi announced he would allow the use of the Same-sex Blessing liturgy in his diocese, I was floored. +Gray had voted against the resolution in the House of Bishops. He wrote a long letter to the diocese explaining why he voted the way he did, and emphasized that there would be no blessings there. So, to see that as they meet in their Diocesan Council, he announced he had had a change of heart was.... well, I'm dumbstruck.

The Rt. Rev. Duncan Gray started by announcing that he is seeking a bishop coadjutor. That's the usual step someone takes when they want to retire and pass the reigns of leadership onto another person who learns the ropes with the sitting bishop. Then he told the Diocesan Council, he's prepared to allow clergy and churches to make use of the new rite if they so choose. In a Twitter message, CJ Meaders wrote:"I have chosen to take this step so that the deep emotion can be born by me and not at the outset of new episcopacy" B. Gray

And all I can say is, "Well done, good and faithful servant." I am truly heartened when one who was opposed to the liturgy rite doesn't stop listening and wrestling with the Holy Spirit. And that is what I believe is going on with many of these bishops.

Needless to say, it is a reminder again of Florida's Pharaoh-like stance on this issue. Our diocesan convention came and went last weekend in apparently record time. We celebrated 175 years in high-fashion with pageantry and dinner parties. But when it came to the brass tacks of doing the work that God is calling us to do, it seems that the only concern was for the pension of retired clergy with no discussion or debate of any of the other developments from General Convention... especially the rite for same-sex blessings. That is very disappointing. I've heard that part of the issue for Florida is that during the earlier part of this century, the diocesan conventions were highly contentious and combative affairs. There was an effort afoot to take Florida out of the Episcopal Church, the same way Pittsburgh and others took off.

But all of that was almost a decade ago. And there isn't the same atmosphere any more. Still, the trauma seems to have trapped some into a loop that needs to be short-circuited so that they, and the rest of this diocese, can move forward in Love.

Perhaps Mississippi can serve as an example of hope for those still hiding in the shadows of their fears.

On Forty-Niners, Boy Scouts, and the Bible

Man, what a week this has been!

There was much made of the Boy Scouts of America's announcement that they are preparing to vote on a resolution to drop their across-the-board ban on LGBT members and scout masters. Phone calls, and emails, and petitions on Facebook. The BSA has been so ardent in their opposition to gays that you've had former Eagle Scouts returning their badges and corporate sponsors closing their wallets. So, for the BSA to say, "Well, let's vote on this policy," seems like a huge step forward.

Until you realize that the fine print allows for discrimination to continue on the local level. Perhaps this is to appease another one of the major supporters of the BSA, the Southern Baptist Convention, who were none to pleased to hear of the new, more inclusive development. "Do this, " the SBC said, "and churches will withdraw their willingness to host and support Boy Scout troops." And so, even if the BSA adopts a non-discrimination policy at the national level, local troops don't need to comply. Some probably will. But then there will be those that won't, and more young boys and men will have to choose: camaraderie and camping or being true to one's self? Not a good choice, in my opinion.

Speaking of bad choices, the San Francisco 49ers have managed a couple of public relations fumbles with the gay community leading up to the Super Bowl. It started with defensive back Chris Culliver telling a radio shock jock that he don't "do no gay guys." This was in response to questions about sex and the Super Bowl. Culliver went on to say that there aren't any gay players on the 49ers, and that he wouldn't feel comfortable in the locker room with a gay teammate. The team owners and management quickly tackled this situation, the coach had a sit down with Culliver, and the second-year player apologized to the fan base, saying that his remarks didn't reflect what was really in his heart and that he loves San Francisco, which has a very large gay population.

But then, it just got worse when two other players, Ahmad Brooks and Isaac Sopoaga, denied that they'd been involved in the team's "It Gets Better" video, aimed at LGBT youth who are bullied and harassed. Brooks said he thought the video was anti-bullying and wasn't a "gay video." Sopoaga, apparently, believes somebody stole his likeness and is disavowing his participation. The message: we'll stick up for kids... just not gay kids, even though we play on the team that represents one of the gay meccas in the United States.

For the 49ers, this is horrible publicity, especially as they face the Baltimore Ravens, a franchise that, at the beginning of the season, came to the defense of one of its players, Brendan Ayanbadejo, who is a straight ally working with Marylanders for Equality when a Maryland legislator wanted to silence Ayanbadejo for speaking out on marriage equality. It also resulted in Dan Savage, the founder of the "It Gets Better" viral video campaign, sacking the 49ers offering on his website. We might as well throw a flag, give them a loss of down, and back them up to their own goal line while we're at it.

And so now you ask, "Where's the Bible in all of this?" For me, there are a couple of things that come to mind. There's the story at the end of Genesis of Joseph and his brothers. After all the rotten stuff the brothers did to Joseph, it is this youngest, the dreamer, who emerges as a powerful right-hand man in Egypt, and ultimately saves his brothers and his people from a famine. When his identity is revealed, and the brothers fear retribution for their evil deeds, Joseph tells them that what they had meant for evil, God has used for good. This is a biblical theme that comes up again and again. And it reminds me that for every idiotic, boneheaded, and terrible thing the Boy Scouts, a football team, or anybody else does to disrespect the dignity of LGBT people, it's their shortcomings that will bring them up short in the end. Love will not be denied.

I also think people such as Culliver, Brooks, Sopoaga, and any number of Southern Baptists might want to go study the words in the Fourth Chapter of the First Letter of John, especially verse 20: Those who say, ‘I love God’, and hate their brothers or sisters,* are liars; for those who do not love a brother or sister whom they have seen, cannot love God whom they have not seen.

This is in keeping with what Jesus says in the Gospels repeatedly and in many different ways: we are to love each other, look out for one another, and there are NO exceptions to that rule. Denouncing your participation in a video, and advocating for the exclusion of gays from sports and scouting are anti-Christ positions. There's just no way for me to sugar-coat that one.

You want to be righteous? Stop bashing the LGBT community and let us be your brothers and sisters.