What I Actually Said

Well, you know about best-laid-plans, etc. A motion to limit comment to two minutes per person meant I had to slash my statement, which was really fine. It was more like this:

On Ash Wednesday 2009 I started a Lenten discipline of reading the daily lectionary passages, and I read the following, from Paul’s 2nd Letter to the Corinthians. Paul is talking about his own ministry:
As we work together with him, we urge you also not to accept the grace of God in vain. 2For he says, “At an acceptable time I have listened to you, and on a day of salvation I have helped you.”  "See, now is the acceptable time; see, now is the day of salvation!" ~ 2 Cor. 6:1-2.

Paul goes on to describe the ways in which people have perceived him: he has received honor and dishonor, he has had both a good and a bad reputation, he has been regarded as an impostor, and yet as true.

I felt instantly that through this scripture God was speaking to me, about my situation. As I continued throughout Lent to read scripture daily, I continued to experience it as God nudging me, and on May 12, 2009 I sent my congregation a letter informing them that I was in a long-term committed relationship with another woman.

Long before I ever imagined I would be in such a relationship, I believed that God did indeed call people of all kinds and conditions into ministry, and my belief was grounded in scripture.
When Zachariah ecstatically prayed, “In the tender compassion of our God, the dawn from on high shall break upon us, to shine on those who dwell in darkness and the shadow of death, and to guide our feet on the road to peace,” I believed him. 

And when Paul preached a gospel of faith and not works, urging that those previously considered unclean be admitted to the body of Christ, I believed him.

And when Jesus said that he came to proclaim release to the captives, and to let the oppressed go free, and when Jesus spent all his ministry opening doors that had been closed, and befriending the outcast, I believed him.

For centuries Christians used words found in scripture to justify slavery. But ultimately, we were persuaded that that was a wrong use of God’s holy word.

For centuries Christians used words found in scripture to justify excluding women from ministry of Word and Sacrament. But ultimately, we were persuaded that that was a wrong use of God’s holy word.
For centuries, Christians used Jesus’ own words to justify excommunicating those whose marriages ended in divorce. But ultimately, we were persuaded that that was a wrong use of God’s holy word.

In all each of these cases we have been persuaded that love of God and love of neighbor reign supreme over the specific words formerly used to exclude, and in this, we have followed Jesus’ example.

Today, I ask you, my friends and colleagues, my sisters and brothers in Christ, to vote to approve Amendment 10-A. I ask this so that those whom our Sovereign God calls might answer that call without fear.  I ask this so that churches and presbyteries who see and value those calls and gifts might be able to welcome all God’s people into ministry. And I ask this so that the tender compassion of our God, the dawn from on high, might at last break upon us, to shine on those who dwell in darkness and the shadow of death, and guide our feet on the road to peace. And I ask this so that we might put into action Jesus' commandment that we love one another as he has loved us.

I spoke about fifth, I think, out of perhaps 11 or 12 who spoke. Those who spoke against amendment 10-A talked of their need for scriptural standards, as if no argument from scripture is possible in favor of inclusion. They also, a few of them, spoke of their "sorrow" at needing to be opposed to glbtq ordination. That rings a little hollow; have your essential humanity questioned, the validity of your baptism, and then get back to me about your sorrow, ok?

As you can see, I didn't address the "clobber" passages (Romans 1:26-27 comes to mind). The intellectual dishonesty of those who insist on using the word "homosexual" in translating this is staggering to me. But those who believe this is the deciding word on the matter are not interested in hearing that all the activities described in this passage are the result of idol worship, and are described as "unnatural". Science shows us increasingly that same-sex love and attraction are entirely natural for a significant proportion of the population, both human beings and other species. And there is no passage of scripture, not one, which envisions a "natural" orientation to same-sex love which is lived out in long-term committed relationships. 

Not to mention Jesus' absolute silence on the matter.

But I'm preaching to the choir here. I know I don't have to convince you all. It's funny; it was harder to hear my colleagues speak against this issue yesterday than it was when I was closeted two years ago. Yesterday I took it more personally, because I am flying below the radar no longer. They know me. They know my congregation. They know my work. And still their hearts are hardened.

It's discouraging. And at the same time, it's freeing. I am who I am. I am held in the palm of God's hand, beneath the shadow of the divine wings. I have the love and support of my family and my Beloved and my friends and my church and many, many colleagues. I can live with that.

What I'll Say

“Standards for ordained service reflect the church’s desire to submit joyfully to the Lordship of Jesus Christ in all aspects of life (G-1.0000). The governing body responsible for ordination and/or installation (G.14.0240; G-14.0450) shall examine each candidate’s calling, gifts, preparation, and suitability for the responsibilities of office. The examination shall include, but not be limited to, a determination of the candidate’s ability and commitment to fulfill all requirements as expressed in the constitutional questions for ordination and installation (W-4.4003). Governing bodies shall be guided by Scripture and the confessions in applying standards to individual candidates.” ~ Amendment 10-A


On Ash Wednesday 2009 I started a Lenten discipline of reading the daily lectionary passages, and I read the following, from Paul’s 2nd Letter to the Corinthians. Paul is talking about his own ministry:

As we work together with him, we urge you also not to accept the grace of God in vain. 2For he says, “At an acceptable time I have listened to you, and on a day of salvation I have helped you.” See, now is the acceptable time; see, now is the day of salvation! ~ 2 Cor. 6:1-2.

Paul goes on to describe the ways in which people have perceived him: he has received honor and dishonor, he has had both a good and a bad reputation, he has been regarded as an impostor, and yet as true.

I felt instantly that through this scripture God was speaking to me, about my situation. As I continued throughout Lent to read scripture daily, I continued to experience it as God nudging me, and on May 12, 2009 I sent my congregation a letter informing them that I was in a long-term committed relationship with another woman.

Long before I ever imagined I would be in such a relationship, I believed that God did indeed call people of all kinds and conditions into ministry, and my belief was grounded in scripture.

When Zachariah ecstatically prayed, “In the tender compassion of our God, the dawn from on high shall break upon us, to shine on those who dwell in darkness and the shadow of death, and to guide our feet on the road to peace,” I believed him.

And when Paul preached a gospel of faith and not works, urging that those previously considered unclean be admitted to the body of Christ, I believed him.

And when Jesus said that he came to proclaim release to the captives, and to let the oppressed go free, and when Jesus spent all his ministry opening doors that had been closed, and befriending the outcast, I believed him.

For centuries Christians used words found in scripture to justify slavery. But ultimately, we were persuaded that that was a wrong use of God’s holy word.

For centuries Christians used words found in scripture to justify excluding women from ministry of Word and Sacrament. But ultimately, we were persuaded that that was a wrong use of God’s holy word.

For centuries, Christians used Jesus’ own words to justify excommunicating those whose marriages ended in divorce. But ultimately, we were persuaded that that was a wrong use of God’s holy word.

In all these cases we have been persuaded that love of God and love of neighbor reign supreme over the specific words formerly used to exclude, and in this, we have followed Jesus’ example.

Today, I ask you, my friends and colleagues, my sisters and brothers in Christ, to vote to approve Amendment 10-A. I ask this so that those whom our Sovereign God calls might answer that call without fear.  I ask this so that churches and presbyteries who see and value those calls and gifts might be able to welcome all God’s people into ministry. And I ask this so that the tender compassion of our God, the dawn from on high, might at last break upon us, to shine on those who dwell in darkness and the shadow of death, and guide our feet on the road to peace.

An Anniversary

Five years ago tonight I was sitting on my couch when the phone call came from my brother, to tell me that my mother had died. It had been a busy day-- I'd awakened in New York City, where my daughter and I had traveled with my son for one of his college auditions. I'd spoken to mom as we'd driven out of the city... I'd called her to tell her about the audition.

She was at home, on hospice care. She was so weak it was nearly impossible to understand her... her words were slurred together. But she knew it was me, and I told her I loved her. I knew the end was near.

In those days my brother and I were taking turns being at the house. We knew one of us would be there when she died, we just didn't know which one. As it turns out, he was there. Sort of. He'd taken an hour to go to a friend's house- literally, steps away. So, my dad was with my mom.

I knew it was coming. But you're never ready, really. My brother said the words... I forget exactly what... and I wailed. Just wailed. And Petra and Larry, who were both upstairs trying to get to sleep, came running, and joined me on the couch, one on each side. Sweet things.

It seems, this week, that about every other word out of my mouth has been a quote of something my mom said often, or would have said. She is very much with me. And the experience of losing D. this week-- who was so like my mom in personality and temperament-- has brought it all home that much more.

circa 1948

So. Praying today in gratitude for this extraordinary woman. She is with me still.

When I Came Out to D.

I was scared of her. She was a powerhouse. She was strong and she was opinionated and I knew, if she perceived this was wrong, wrong, wrong... well, I'd have a very uncomfortable situation on my hands.

So the day "The Letter" went out I went to D's house. It was near the end of a long day, in which I'd been visiting elders, pillars, staff members, etc. D. was sick... she'd been struggling with cancer since early 2007. Still, she was able to attend church, and she was formidable. I loved her and I was scared of her.

At about 4 in the afternoon I dropped by. We chit-chatted for a bit. Finally, I said, "D., has your mail arrived yet?" She said, "No, it should be here any minute. Why?" I could tell that her radar was up. The night before, when I'd met with the session, some of them had let me know that they were relieved the letter was not a letter of resignation (!). D. seemed to "go there" as well. I said, "D, I sent a letter to the congregation. This is what it says." And I told her.

Her response was immediate. "That's no one's business but your own. People act like this is a brand new thing, but it's been going on for thousands of years. Michelangelo! The Emperor Hadrian! I had two teachers in my elementary school who lived together in the same house. Maybe they were in a committed relationship! You're a good pastor. That's all that matters to me."

We buried D. yesterday. This memory is one of the treasures she left me.

A Funeral Meditation on John 11:27-37

Sunset and evening star,
  And one clear call for me!
And may there be no moaning of the bar,
  When I put out to sea,

But such a tide as moving seems asleep,
    Too full for sound and foam,
When that which drew from out the boundless deep
    Turns again home.

Twilight and evening bell,
And after that the dark!
And may there be no sadness of farewell,
    When I embark;

For tho' from out our bourne of Time and Place
    The flood may bear me far,
I hope to see my Pilot face to face
    When I have crost the bar.

~Alfred Lord Tennyson

In looking for a passage of scripture to share with you today, I confess I had something fairly specific in mind. I wanted a passage that portrayed a strong woman openly and confidently expressing her opinion. I wanted this woman to be challenging someone who was a recognized authority figure. And, of course, I wanted a passage that at the same time managed to convey our Christian hope in the resurrection. In short, I wanted a passage that would honor D., whose life we gather to celebrate on this beautiful winter day, and only a strong, opinionated woman challenging an authority, while at the same time hoping against hope, seemed appropriate.

And so I found my way to this story of Martha and her sister Mary, mourning the loss of their beloved brother Lazarus. As you can hear, Martha is not too happy with Jesus, because he was late in arriving, too late, in her opinion, to save Lazarus. But what Martha doesn’t seem to understand is this: Jesus is mourning Lazarus every bit as much as his sisters. Jesus loves Lazarus every bit as much as they do. And Jesus, though he has a point to make, is filled with anguish at the suffering he sees before him.

And so are we. D. was battling this terrible disease the day I met her, and every day since. I never knew her, as many of you did, at the height of her strength and spirit. I didn’t know her, as you did, when she  took her many trips—to Europe, and South America, and the Canary Islands, and China, and countless other places. I didn’t know her, as you did, when she worked tirelessly to assemble our church Museum, named in her honor in 2007. I didn’t know her, as you did, when she was Sunday School Superintendent, or president of the Ladies Aid Association, or an active member of Session.

Still, I can claim with confidence that I did know the essential D., a woman who, the day we met, gave me her unvarnished opinion on matters concerning the church and the presbytery. I knew the essential D., who cared deeply, passionately, about this church into whose membership she was baptized on the same day as her lifelong friend, M. I knew the essential D., who, when the time came at last to face her own mortality, did so with the resolve of the poet, confident she would see her Pilot, her Maker, when at last she passed from our sight.

But D. did not go gentle into that good night. Along with Martha, she raged against the dying of the light, and she fought the good fight for four long years. Let me be clear: death is a thief. It steals from us, and D. clung to the life she loved. Why shouldn’t she? Why shouldn’t any of us? Our lives are precious gift from God. As the psalmist says, God forms our innermost parts. God knits us together in our mother’s womb. We are fearfully and wonderfully made, and in life and in death we belong to God. What a glorious calling: to live our lives in the presence and the service of our Lord and our fellow human beings. D. lived out that calling, with gusto, until her body simply wouldn’t allow her to do so any longer.

The suffering of those we love fills us with anguish. The death of those we love fills us with sorrow. And, like Martha, we challenge Jesus, we call upon God to help us to make sense of it all. And this is what Jesus says to us: He says, “I am the resurrection and the life.” And he calls upon us to believe that this life, though it is good and rich and beautiful, is not all there is. He calls upon us to trust that death does not have the last word. He calls upon us to affirm, with Martha, with D., that yes, Lord, we believe.

The story of Martha and her brother Lazarus does not end here. Jesus goes to Lazarus’ tomb and calls him out, raises him from the dead. But Martha makes her statement of faith, her affirmation in Jesus, in life beyond this life, in hope against hope, before that happens. Martha makes her statement of confidence in Jesus before she really has any evidence to back it up.

We and Martha and D. are all in the same boat together. We know that death calls upon each of us, that we are summoned to embark upon that ship, mostly, before we feel ready. We know that death will steal those we love from us, whether it is they or we who embark first. And still we are called upon to put our faith and hope in Jesus’ affirmation that death is not, will not be, the last word. We are called upon to be like Martha, to declare, yes, Lord, I believe in you. Yes Lord, I hope in you. Yes Lord, I trust in you.

About a month before D. died, P. and I shared communion with her in her home. D. always eagerly accepted when the church offered an opportunity for her to receive the Lord’s Supper. We prayed that day, in gratitude for this church, which brought us together. We prayed in gratitude for that sacrament which shows us how God gives his own life for us and to us. We prayed in hope for D., that her pain might be eased and she might grow stronger. After communion, we held hands for a final prayer of thanksgiving, and, though I encouraged her to stay seated, D. insisted on struggling to her feet, and she gripped our hands with her own, surprisingly strong ones. That, for me, was classic D.. Jesus was there, present with us, and D. stood, weak as she was, to affirm, Yes Lord, I believe. Yes Lord, I hope. Yes Lord, I trust.

And so we commend our beloved sister in Christ into the welcoming and embracing arms of her Pilot, her Maker, her Lord and Savior. We trust that D. will forgive and even appreciate our sadness as she embarks. We trust that this strong and opinionated woman is not gone, only gone from our sight. And we trust, with Martha, with D., that she will rest in peace and rise in glory. Thanks be to God. Amen.

Up at My Other Place

... A Week in the Life.

Remember This?

The awesome mom who supported her son, who wanted to be Daphne for Halloween?

She has been excommunicated from her church, and her son kicked out of the preschool.

Words fail me.

Read about the carnage here.

Thanks, MadPriest, for keeping us all in the loop.