As noted a couple of days ago, my laptop is misbehaving. As a result, I've spent a lot of time -- writing time -- backing up files in case this is a sickness unto death.
Backing up files reminds me of one of the Platonic dialogues about writing. I don't recall which dialogue -- Phaedrus perhaps -- but the conversation concerns the notion that writing is a secondary and thus lesser form of communication than speech.
Backing up files would come way down the road, then, and the entire internet would as well.
There was a time, not that long ago, when I would happily have gone on at length on this stuff, but I've forgotten most of it and I guess I didn't save the files. Ah well.
Back to backing up.
Tuesday, March 16, 2010
Sunday, March 14, 2010
One Ton of Fanmail ... or They Just Don't Write Hate Mail Like They Used To
The piece I wrote for People of Faith for Equality Virginia responding to Attorney General Cuccinelli's recent actions ran today as an op-ed in the Richmond Times-Dispatch. By this evening I've only received two e-mail condemnations, neither of which was particularly interesting or creative.
Times have changed. Ten years ago I was forced to resign a church in Pittsburgh after preaching a sermon on same-sex marriage rights. Five years ago we got threats after Clarendon announced its marriage rights policy.
Today? A couple of lukewarm e-mails that don't even rise to the level of hate mail. I am somewhat disappointed. After all, if we're not getting hate mail we're not doing our jobs, a colleague once reassured me.
On the other hand, the nonresponse is informative on at least two levels.
It could be further evidence of the rapid decline of print media and simply indicate that no one is reading op ed pieces anymore. There is a sad truth to that. It's not sad because of what it says about the failures of the media (which are many and manifold), but rather because increasingly we only find opinion pieces in electronic space that is finely sliced and segmented, and where we seldom encounter voices we do not already agree with. To that extent, the death of the tradition of Sunday op eds saddens me.
The nonresponse could also be evidence of the continued rapid cultural shift that makes speaking out for the rights of GLBT people far less likely to engender angry response than it was just a few years ago. When we did the marriage policy change at Clarendon in 2005 the mail did not stop for weeks and the response included threatening phone calls to church.
The best this round of mail could produce was a bit of pathetic partisanship from someone in Mechanicsville: "Gays don't want equality, they DEMAND superiority; and, 'want to be out there' (pun intended) flaunting on television as often as Obama is...which is way too often!"
Harry Knox, from HRC, preached at Clarendon this morning. He was speaking with a group of us following worship and noted that roughly 90 percent of the American public now supports ending Don't Ask Don't Tell, including a majority of Republicans.
Times are changing ... and you have to work a lot harder to generate good hate mail these days.
Times have changed. Ten years ago I was forced to resign a church in Pittsburgh after preaching a sermon on same-sex marriage rights. Five years ago we got threats after Clarendon announced its marriage rights policy.
Today? A couple of lukewarm e-mails that don't even rise to the level of hate mail. I am somewhat disappointed. After all, if we're not getting hate mail we're not doing our jobs, a colleague once reassured me.
On the other hand, the nonresponse is informative on at least two levels.
It could be further evidence of the rapid decline of print media and simply indicate that no one is reading op ed pieces anymore. There is a sad truth to that. It's not sad because of what it says about the failures of the media (which are many and manifold), but rather because increasingly we only find opinion pieces in electronic space that is finely sliced and segmented, and where we seldom encounter voices we do not already agree with. To that extent, the death of the tradition of Sunday op eds saddens me.
The nonresponse could also be evidence of the continued rapid cultural shift that makes speaking out for the rights of GLBT people far less likely to engender angry response than it was just a few years ago. When we did the marriage policy change at Clarendon in 2005 the mail did not stop for weeks and the response included threatening phone calls to church.
The best this round of mail could produce was a bit of pathetic partisanship from someone in Mechanicsville: "Gays don't want equality, they DEMAND superiority; and, 'want to be out there' (pun intended) flaunting on television as often as Obama is...which is way too often!"
Harry Knox, from HRC, preached at Clarendon this morning. He was speaking with a group of us following worship and noted that roughly 90 percent of the American public now supports ending Don't Ask Don't Tell, including a majority of Republicans.
Times are changing ... and you have to work a lot harder to generate good hate mail these days.
Saturday, March 13, 2010
Everything Put Together Falls Apart
The curly haired boy pictured further down has infected me with his cold.
Some strange viral thing infected my laptop yesterday.
Everything put together falls apart.
One could go lots of places from there, but my head is stuffed with anything but thought today so I'm just going to leave at that.
All the king's horses and all the king's men cannot but this back together again.
Some strange viral thing infected my laptop yesterday.
Everything put together falls apart.
One could go lots of places from there, but my head is stuffed with anything but thought today so I'm just going to leave at that.
All the king's horses and all the king's men cannot but this back together again.
Thursday, March 11, 2010
Sometimes a Cigar Is ... Just Another Day
The great privilege of ministry comes in walking through the valleys and across the mountain tops with people. I've had my share of such experiences, and they inevitably remind me of what I love about my job. Celebrating with couples who have become friends as they marry. Weeping with friends who have lost loved ones. Marching with friends seeking justice. Organizing with friends seeking peace. Studying with friends seeking wisdom and understanding. These are the moments of ministry that I, and most of my colleagues, love.
If we're lucky, we serve in communities that offer many such opportunities. I am lucky.
If we're unlucky, we serve in communities that are riven with strife over old wounds never healed. I have been unlucky.
But lucky or unlucky, all ministry has -- like all work -- its days of merely pushing the paper into the next tray. It's almost 5:00 p.m., and I've pushed a lot of paper today: session packet e-mailed - check; session packet copied - check; bulletin copied - check; e-mail blast out - check; sanctuary prepped for Sunday - check; web page updated - check.
Sometimes a day is just a day.
On the other hand, even on such a day, I managed to have lunch with one of the wise elders of the community and to share some organizing materials with colleagues in justice work.
Inspiration comes on such days as this in the details -- where God is.
So when the day gets long and seems to be dragging on tend to some details and seek the Lord where she may be found.
If we're lucky, we serve in communities that offer many such opportunities. I am lucky.
If we're unlucky, we serve in communities that are riven with strife over old wounds never healed. I have been unlucky.
But lucky or unlucky, all ministry has -- like all work -- its days of merely pushing the paper into the next tray. It's almost 5:00 p.m., and I've pushed a lot of paper today: session packet e-mailed - check; session packet copied - check; bulletin copied - check; e-mail blast out - check; sanctuary prepped for Sunday - check; web page updated - check.
Sometimes a day is just a day.
On the other hand, even on such a day, I managed to have lunch with one of the wise elders of the community and to share some organizing materials with colleagues in justice work.
Inspiration comes on such days as this in the details -- where God is.
So when the day gets long and seems to be dragging on tend to some details and seek the Lord where she may be found.
Wednesday, March 10, 2010
Something's Happening Here ... What It Is Ain't Exactly Clear
I spent several hours yesterday serving as a peace marshal at a health care reform rally sponsored by Health Care for America Now. While the event was rowdy, it never veered toward anything nonviolent so I didn't have much to do other than watch and listen.
The target of the rally was the meeting of the insurance industry group America's Health Insurance Plans, which gathered at the Ritz-Carlton in DC. The choice of hotel was as tone deaf as the recent rate hikes announced by several insurance companies. One wonders who does PR for these folks. Are they simply so removed from the reality of this particular moment that they don't realize how they look, or are they so arrogant that they don't care how they look?
As one industry employee attending the conference said, “Why don’t you just pull up in Rolls-Royces and Porsches?”
It reminded me of the auto executives flying into DC on their private jets to meet with congress and ask for a bailout. Who advises these folks?
On the other hand, I'd ask the same question of the rally organizers.
Some aspects of the event were well planned. Some 5,000 people participated according to an estimate in this morning's Washington Post. The target of the demonstration -- AHIP's meeting -- was well chosen, and the speakers did a good job of posing health care reform as reigning in the well chronicled abuses of the insurance industry. For what it was, the demonstration was a fine and successful event.
But while I am all for taking to the streets in protest, more than a decade after Seattle the rallies and demonstrations with drums and puppets and street theater all begin to look and sound the same. It seems too pat and predictable, and too easy to dismiss. I wonder what it would feel like to ask participants to dress up rather than down, to walk in silence rather than making noise, to disrupt business as usual in a completely different manner, and to engage the issue in a way that challenges the system and demands its end in uncompromising language that does not simply demonize those who profit from it and support it.
What if 5,000 people, all dressed in dark suits or skirts, walked 10 across through the streets of the headquarter cities of the insurance companies and marched into those office buildings -- or into the arms of arresting police filling the jails -- presented tons of claim forms, or read off a list of thousands of names of people who died last year because they did not have insurance, or simply stood in silent mass witness to those lives?
Such a demonstration would take incredible discipline, and a huge amount of organizing and training not to mention money. In other words, it might take way more commitment of time and treasure than people are willing to give -- which may just be why we've been stuck with an inefficient and unjust health care insurance system for more than 100 years.
Then I spent last evening at a gathering of the Luke 6 community in formation. We spent our time studying the founding text. The sixth chapter of Luke is Jesus' sermon on the plain and Luke's version of the Beatitudes. Luke's version of these teachings is famously more challenging than that in Matthew 5 (which is challenging enough for me).
I was struck, yesterday in particular, by the opening stories of the Luke text. In it Jesus is practicing direct action and protest. He goes straight into the territory of those who oppose him -- the scribes and Pharisees. In Luke 6 Jesus goes to the synagogue and scandalizes the religious leaders with his teaching about what is appropriate to the Sabbath. Without ever speaking a personal word about the people he opposes, he calls into question everything that they support.
While they may have felt humiliated, their humiliation is never the point of Jesus' action nor of Luke's writing. Both the actions and Luke's account leave open the possibility of restored relationship while completely undermining the system that has broken relationships to begin with.
Like the rest of Luke 6, the opening stories present incredibly difficult challenges to those who would try to follow Jesus, in this case, into the streets. I ended up yesterday feeling completely inadequate to that challenge and rather glad to be on the rolls of Blue Cross than on the way to the cross.
Monday, March 08, 2010
What? Pastor Glenn Beck ...
Apparently Fox News' Glen Beck was talking about churches recently. This is all hearsay because the only time I actually hear Glen Beck is when Jon Stewart plays clips of Beck for the sole purpose of mocking him.
Anyway, apparently Beck was telling his listeners to be wary of church web sites that use words or phrases such as "justice," "social justice," or "economic justice." I hear that he told folks that if their church's sites used such phrases then they should quit the church because it was no doubt a den of socialists.
I thought I'd better check my church's site to make sure that we're not socialists, so I clicked on the home page. Damn! There it is. In the center of page. Quotated. In italics.
OMG! We're socialists! To make matters worse, we claim, as part of our mission statement, that we try to live out the love and justice of the gospel of Jesus Christ.
One wonders if Beck has ever actually opened a Bible. Mine has more than 300 verses that explicitly speak of God's deep concern for justice for the poor. But then again I probably have the revised socialist edition.
It reminds me of the days when I was looking for ministry positions. I noticed that liberal church's church information forms (sort of a reverse resume) always used the phrase "social justice." Conservative churches always used the phrase "Bible believing." I never did find a "Bible-believing congregation deeply committed to social justice."
Anyway, apparently Beck was telling his listeners to be wary of church web sites that use words or phrases such as "justice," "social justice," or "economic justice." I hear that he told folks that if their church's sites used such phrases then they should quit the church because it was no doubt a den of socialists.
I thought I'd better check my church's site to make sure that we're not socialists, so I clicked on the home page. Damn! There it is. In the center of page. Quotated. In italics.
God has told you, O mortal, what is good; and what does the Lord require of you
but to do justice, and to love kindness, and to walk humbly with your God?
OMG! We're socialists! To make matters worse, we claim, as part of our mission statement, that we try to live out the love and justice of the gospel of Jesus Christ.
One wonders if Beck has ever actually opened a Bible. Mine has more than 300 verses that explicitly speak of God's deep concern for justice for the poor. But then again I probably have the revised socialist edition.
It reminds me of the days when I was looking for ministry positions. I noticed that liberal church's church information forms (sort of a reverse resume) always used the phrase "social justice." Conservative churches always used the phrase "Bible believing." I never did find a "Bible-believing congregation deeply committed to social justice."
Sunday, March 07, 2010
Responding to Cuccinelli
Below is a letter to Virginia's attorney general Ken Cuccinelli, who last week sent a letter to Virginia's colleges and universities informing them that none of their non-discrimination policies that pertain to gays and lesbians would be enforced by his office and that the schools should rescind the portions of policies that refer to gays and lesbians.
I wrote this for the board of People of Faith for Equality Virginia and we are seeking signatures from any Virginia clergy or religious leaders who are willing to sign on. Please use the "comments" to add your name and leadership position.
Sir,
When I read of your recent recommendations to Virginia’s colleges and universities I thought immediately of the father of our great university system. Thomas Jefferson famously said of other people’s religious orientations that they neither picked his pocket nor broke his bones. I’m sure he would agree that another person’s sex life neither picks my pockets nor breaks my bones.
But when bias against a person's sexual orientation picks their pocket through job discrimination or breaks their bones through gay bashing then it is the responsibility of the state to protect them in every appropriate manner. Hate crimes laws and antidiscrimination laws and policies are long-standing, well-established and proven legal means of affording such protection. Gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender Virginians clearly face discrimination and hate crimes and the fear that accompany them.
Failure to act in the face of that reality is a black eye on the Commonwealth, and on the office you hold. To act in direct contradiction to the reality must have Mr. Jefferson spinning in his grave.
When you know that a woman is threatened on the job because she is female would you not bring the full weight of the law to bear in any resulting legal proceeding? When you know that a family loses their home because they are black would you not prosecute? When you know that a public college or university refuses to register a Christian student group because of its faith-based bylaws would you not pursue the case with vigor?
When a college professor is fired for being lesbian or a young man is beaten and killed because he is gay why would you not do the same?
That is the question your recent letter to Virginia colleges and universities warning them on including sexuality in their nondiscrimination policies raises. When you know that more than 15 percent of all hate crimes are committed against people based on perceived sexual orientation how can you in good conscience block protection of gays, lesbian, bisexual and transgendered students and faculty on Virginia campuses? When you know – and there is overwhelming evidence – that young men are victimized on college campuses because they are gay why do you use your office to enable the victimizers?
You can deny that allegation, but our state’s long history of racial discrimination and violence clearly teaches us that when public officials do not act to protect those who are victimized because of who they are then those who perpetrate such acts are enabled and even encouraged to continue. Failure to use the full weight of your office to protect vulnerable Virginians is wrong. It is immoral. It is an affront to the very One who, self evidently, created us all equal and with certain inalienable rights.
Like Mr. Jefferson with respect to other faiths, you do not have to be gay or lesbian, you do not have to like gays or lesbians, you do not even have to respect them, but you do have a constitutional responsibility to protect them and your recent actions demonstrate clearly that you are failing to live up to the responsibilities and obligations of your job.
The arc of the moral universe is long, but it does bend toward justice. I urge you to reconsider your position and stand on the right side of history.
Sincerely,
Rev. Dr. David Ensign
Pastor, Clarendon Presbyterian Church, Arlington
For the board of People of Faith for Equality in Virginia
I wrote this for the board of People of Faith for Equality Virginia and we are seeking signatures from any Virginia clergy or religious leaders who are willing to sign on. Please use the "comments" to add your name and leadership position.
Sir,
When I read of your recent recommendations to Virginia’s colleges and universities I thought immediately of the father of our great university system. Thomas Jefferson famously said of other people’s religious orientations that they neither picked his pocket nor broke his bones. I’m sure he would agree that another person’s sex life neither picks my pockets nor breaks my bones.
But when bias against a person's sexual orientation picks their pocket through job discrimination or breaks their bones through gay bashing then it is the responsibility of the state to protect them in every appropriate manner. Hate crimes laws and antidiscrimination laws and policies are long-standing, well-established and proven legal means of affording such protection. Gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender Virginians clearly face discrimination and hate crimes and the fear that accompany them.
Failure to act in the face of that reality is a black eye on the Commonwealth, and on the office you hold. To act in direct contradiction to the reality must have Mr. Jefferson spinning in his grave.
When you know that a woman is threatened on the job because she is female would you not bring the full weight of the law to bear in any resulting legal proceeding? When you know that a family loses their home because they are black would you not prosecute? When you know that a public college or university refuses to register a Christian student group because of its faith-based bylaws would you not pursue the case with vigor?
When a college professor is fired for being lesbian or a young man is beaten and killed because he is gay why would you not do the same?
That is the question your recent letter to Virginia colleges and universities warning them on including sexuality in their nondiscrimination policies raises. When you know that more than 15 percent of all hate crimes are committed against people based on perceived sexual orientation how can you in good conscience block protection of gays, lesbian, bisexual and transgendered students and faculty on Virginia campuses? When you know – and there is overwhelming evidence – that young men are victimized on college campuses because they are gay why do you use your office to enable the victimizers?
You can deny that allegation, but our state’s long history of racial discrimination and violence clearly teaches us that when public officials do not act to protect those who are victimized because of who they are then those who perpetrate such acts are enabled and even encouraged to continue. Failure to use the full weight of your office to protect vulnerable Virginians is wrong. It is immoral. It is an affront to the very One who, self evidently, created us all equal and with certain inalienable rights.
Like Mr. Jefferson with respect to other faiths, you do not have to be gay or lesbian, you do not have to like gays or lesbians, you do not even have to respect them, but you do have a constitutional responsibility to protect them and your recent actions demonstrate clearly that you are failing to live up to the responsibilities and obligations of your job.
The arc of the moral universe is long, but it does bend toward justice. I urge you to reconsider your position and stand on the right side of history.
Sincerely,
Rev. Dr. David Ensign
Pastor, Clarendon Presbyterian Church, Arlington
For the board of People of Faith for Equality in Virginia
Friday, March 05, 2010
Another Opportunity for Ministry
My writing for today is an e-mail I sent to a young man in Florida whose story has been told in recent days on Daily Kos, in a diary entitled, "My Nephew Was Outed and Kicked Out of School Today." As the title suggests, the young man (18) was outed as gay and thrown out of his conservative "Christian" high school in North Carolina. His parents tried to send him to the pastor of their evangelical church where he would be told he needed to be "cured."
A similar situation in that church a bit earlier ended with the suicide of a young gay man who was told he needed to be cured from his sinful life. Lots of studies show that tragic story is repeated often among young gay men, especially when they are in unwelcoming contexts.
Instead of going to his church, the young man in the diary hopped in his car and drove to Florida to his aunt and uncle's home. She wrote the diary, and in a follow up, at her nephew's insistence, included his e-mail. I wrote him a brief supportive note last evening, and he wrote back asking a few questions.
Here's what I sent him this morning.
Hi,
I have heard many others say pretty much exactly what you've said here. The good news is ... well, the good news! The gospel is about God's love for all of creation or it's about nothing at all. As Paul wrote to the Romans,
So when people say hateful things or act hatefully to you in the name of God or the Bible or the church they are simply wrong. They may believe they are acting out of the best intentions, but they are wrong. They're wrong to take the Bible as more important than its message of love. They are wrong to treat you as less than a neighbor to be loved, as other than a child of God made in the image of a loving God for the sole purpose of loving and being loved.
Their Biblical interpretation skills aren't very good either. To begin with, the Bible actually says nothing at all about "homosexuality" because, in fact, the word "homosexual" did not exist in any language until the late 1800s. The writers of scripture simply had no concept of committed, same-gender relationships and thus no word for it. The handful of passages that are used to condemn homosexuality have nothing to do with what we now understand homosexuality to be -- that is to say, those passages have nothing to do with you and your sexuality, which is a gift from God.
There is a ton of Biblical study on this topic, but the best relatively short piece I've come across is actually fairly old (1980s) written by a theologian named Walter Wink. You can find it on line here. The organization whose web site is linked there is called SoulForce, and it was founded by the Rev. Mel White and his partner. Mel was raised in a conservative evangelical household and trained for ministry in the evangelical part of the church. Along the way he worked with Pat Robertson, Billy Graham, Jerry Fallwell and other conservatives pastors. Mel is a warm, wonderful, grounded Christian and could be a voice of wisdom for you. His contact information is on the bio page of the SoulForce site.
Beyond the gay-related scripture stuff, I encourage you to read the Psalms. As a straight guy (married with three kids, including a son your age), I've certainly never had to go through what you are in the midst of, but like everyone I've faced difficult times and deep pain. In those moments the poetry of the Psalms has reminded me that I'm not alone, that pain and hurt and anger are universal experiences, that though we walk sometimes through the darkest valleys and feel that enemies surround us, God is with us and God's steadfast love endures forever. The Psalms give voice to all of that, and I believe that's why Jesus quoted them on the cross -- "my God, my God, why have you foresaken me" -- and, hey, if it's good enough for Jesus!
I also highly recommend getting hold of the documentary, For the Bible Tells Me So. It is a wonderful look at the lives of several families who struggle through a child's coming out and their church's response. If you follow the link to the film's site take a look at the statement of director Daniel Karslake. My good friend, the Rev. Carol Howard Merritt, interviewed Karslake on her radio podcast, God Complex Radio, a while back and it's a good listen. The religion and faith program of the Human Rights Campaign has produced a study guide for the documentary as well. The Rev. Harry Knox, who directs HRC's faith-based outreach is friend of mine and I'm sure he'd be happy to e-chat with you as well. Harry's going to be preaching at my church in a couple of weeks. He's a warm, funny, faithful, southern, gay man who is just good fun to talk with.
I hope I'm not overloading you with this, but I'm figuring you'll use what seems useful and ignore the rest. I do hope you'll get the sense from this that there are tons of faithful Christians who love God and take scripture seriously (and seriously enough not to take it literally), who also understand that the lives of gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgendered folks are part of God's wondrous creation and they are beloved by their Creator just as they are. Lots of such folks are, like you and me, southeners, and many grew up in pretty conservative households and churches, and have walked down the road you are traveling. So you are not alone in this, and there is a place in a loving, supportive, welcoming faith community for you.
I've written a note to my friend Michael Adee who directs the More Light Presbyterians network of congregations in my denomination working for the full inclusion and empowerment of GLBT people in the life of the church. I asked Michael for suggestions of contacts in the Tampa area, and I'm sure he will have some ideas that I'll pass along. Michael is another strong, warm, funny, faithful, southern, gay man (who also has a strange sports affliction being a die-hard Saints fan which also deeply offends the Peyton fan in me -- what is it with you people that you cannot see that God loves Tennessee more and that Rocky Top is a hymn in highest heaven!). He's also an accomplished athlete and has competed in the world Gay Games in tennis. I'm sure that Michael would also be happy to connect.
Hang in there through all of this. Keep the faith, and know, above all else, that you are beloved.
peace,
David
A similar situation in that church a bit earlier ended with the suicide of a young gay man who was told he needed to be cured from his sinful life. Lots of studies show that tragic story is repeated often among young gay men, especially when they are in unwelcoming contexts.
Instead of going to his church, the young man in the diary hopped in his car and drove to Florida to his aunt and uncle's home. She wrote the diary, and in a follow up, at her nephew's insistence, included his e-mail. I wrote him a brief supportive note last evening, and he wrote back asking a few questions.
Here's what I sent him this morning.
Hi,
I have heard many others say pretty much exactly what you've said here. The good news is ... well, the good news! The gospel is about God's love for all of creation or it's about nothing at all. As Paul wrote to the Romans,
"Love does no wrong to a neighbor; therefore love is the fulfillment of the law." Romans 13:10
So when people say hateful things or act hatefully to you in the name of God or the Bible or the church they are simply wrong. They may believe they are acting out of the best intentions, but they are wrong. They're wrong to take the Bible as more important than its message of love. They are wrong to treat you as less than a neighbor to be loved, as other than a child of God made in the image of a loving God for the sole purpose of loving and being loved.
Their Biblical interpretation skills aren't very good either. To begin with, the Bible actually says nothing at all about "homosexuality" because, in fact, the word "homosexual" did not exist in any language until the late 1800s. The writers of scripture simply had no concept of committed, same-gender relationships and thus no word for it. The handful of passages that are used to condemn homosexuality have nothing to do with what we now understand homosexuality to be -- that is to say, those passages have nothing to do with you and your sexuality, which is a gift from God.
There is a ton of Biblical study on this topic, but the best relatively short piece I've come across is actually fairly old (1980s) written by a theologian named Walter Wink. You can find it on line here. The organization whose web site is linked there is called SoulForce, and it was founded by the Rev. Mel White and his partner. Mel was raised in a conservative evangelical household and trained for ministry in the evangelical part of the church. Along the way he worked with Pat Robertson, Billy Graham, Jerry Fallwell and other conservatives pastors. Mel is a warm, wonderful, grounded Christian and could be a voice of wisdom for you. His contact information is on the bio page of the SoulForce site.
Beyond the gay-related scripture stuff, I encourage you to read the Psalms. As a straight guy (married with three kids, including a son your age), I've certainly never had to go through what you are in the midst of, but like everyone I've faced difficult times and deep pain. In those moments the poetry of the Psalms has reminded me that I'm not alone, that pain and hurt and anger are universal experiences, that though we walk sometimes through the darkest valleys and feel that enemies surround us, God is with us and God's steadfast love endures forever. The Psalms give voice to all of that, and I believe that's why Jesus quoted them on the cross -- "my God, my God, why have you foresaken me" -- and, hey, if it's good enough for Jesus!
I also highly recommend getting hold of the documentary, For the Bible Tells Me So. It is a wonderful look at the lives of several families who struggle through a child's coming out and their church's response. If you follow the link to the film's site take a look at the statement of director Daniel Karslake. My good friend, the Rev. Carol Howard Merritt, interviewed Karslake on her radio podcast, God Complex Radio, a while back and it's a good listen. The religion and faith program of the Human Rights Campaign has produced a study guide for the documentary as well. The Rev. Harry Knox, who directs HRC's faith-based outreach is friend of mine and I'm sure he'd be happy to e-chat with you as well. Harry's going to be preaching at my church in a couple of weeks. He's a warm, funny, faithful, southern, gay man who is just good fun to talk with.
I hope I'm not overloading you with this, but I'm figuring you'll use what seems useful and ignore the rest. I do hope you'll get the sense from this that there are tons of faithful Christians who love God and take scripture seriously (and seriously enough not to take it literally), who also understand that the lives of gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgendered folks are part of God's wondrous creation and they are beloved by their Creator just as they are. Lots of such folks are, like you and me, southeners, and many grew up in pretty conservative households and churches, and have walked down the road you are traveling. So you are not alone in this, and there is a place in a loving, supportive, welcoming faith community for you.
I've written a note to my friend Michael Adee who directs the More Light Presbyterians network of congregations in my denomination working for the full inclusion and empowerment of GLBT people in the life of the church. I asked Michael for suggestions of contacts in the Tampa area, and I'm sure he will have some ideas that I'll pass along. Michael is another strong, warm, funny, faithful, southern, gay man (who also has a strange sports affliction being a die-hard Saints fan which also deeply offends the Peyton fan in me -- what is it with you people that you cannot see that God loves Tennessee more and that Rocky Top is a hymn in highest heaven!). He's also an accomplished athlete and has competed in the world Gay Games in tennis. I'm sure that Michael would also be happy to connect.
Hang in there through all of this. Keep the faith, and know, above all else, that you are beloved.
peace,
David
Thursday, March 04, 2010
Wednesday, March 03, 2010
too tired ...
Sometimes it's best simply to admit that one is too pooped to post. Forty straight days of blogging is a long time, and writing today was confined to responding to the backlog of e-mails that stacked up while we were away.
I was planning to post pictures (each worth a thousand words) from the beach, but I'm going to celebrate National Procrastination Week and put it off till tomorrow.
I was planning to post pictures (each worth a thousand words) from the beach, but I'm going to celebrate National Procrastination Week and put it off till tomorrow.
Tuesday, March 02, 2010
Sounds Like Freedom
Another long day of driving just to get back where I started. It wasn't exactly an Odyssey but it was a round trip with sea creatures -- we watched a pod of dolphins swim lazily by yesterday -- and interesting locales as well.
We went inland a bit last evening to find a place to eat open on a Sunday night off season. We found a little joint nestled down on the banks of some tidal river just around the corner from Poverty Place, a road that leads directly into a trailer park. I kid you not. We left the car in the parking lot of The Place Across the Street, or so the sign said.
As sometimes happens in such out of the way places, the food was excellent and the atmosphere was rural southern. I can drawl with the finest East Tennesseans if called upon, so rural Carolinian is not much of a stretch.
Our waitress asked where we're from and we told her. She told us she was heading to Virginia to visit a friend this weekend and was looking forward to it because she'd never been before. Arlington may have seemed down right exotic to her, although I'm not sure it would be any more strange to her than the back water -- literally -- was to us.
The distance between here and there can be bridged in half a day of driving, but the gap is larger than that in ways that resist such easy measurement. On the other hand, the historical markers here and there along the way remind one of other great distances traveled in these same parts.
The signs tell of Civil War campaigns, including the final march to Appomattox. They also carry place names -- Carolina, Virginia, Plymouth, Chinquapin -- that recall the American Revolution, the colonial era, European settlements and native peoples before.
How did we get here from there? Who along the way would have predicted it? Had those who fought and died in the various wars along the way known what was to come on that ground their lives hallowed would they have thought it worth the cost of those lives?
How strange would the trailer park look to them? How strange Arlington? How strange the road between the two -- Interstate 95, and smaller routes -- and the tens of thousands of vehicles speeding along at speeds unimaginable until quite recently in the sweep of time?
The Marine base Camp Lajeune and its ancillary airfield dominate the landscape along the coast and dozens of miles inland just a couple of miles north of Poverty Place, just as Quantico stands out on I-95 a bit south of Arlington. We saw quite a few helicopters buzzing along the coast over the weekend, and a few military jets screamed overhead this morning. We passed the main gate for the airfield today. Their sign said, "Pardon our noise. It's the sound of freedom."
It sounded a bit more like empire to me, and I'm sure that's not a sound that would have rung familiar to those whose lives are suggested by the signs along the way. But the road? It sounds like freedom, and I think those who came before us would recognize that sound even when it comes from a Harley or an 18-wheeler or the family minivan.
We went inland a bit last evening to find a place to eat open on a Sunday night off season. We found a little joint nestled down on the banks of some tidal river just around the corner from Poverty Place, a road that leads directly into a trailer park. I kid you not. We left the car in the parking lot of The Place Across the Street, or so the sign said.
As sometimes happens in such out of the way places, the food was excellent and the atmosphere was rural southern. I can drawl with the finest East Tennesseans if called upon, so rural Carolinian is not much of a stretch.
Our waitress asked where we're from and we told her. She told us she was heading to Virginia to visit a friend this weekend and was looking forward to it because she'd never been before. Arlington may have seemed down right exotic to her, although I'm not sure it would be any more strange to her than the back water -- literally -- was to us.
The distance between here and there can be bridged in half a day of driving, but the gap is larger than that in ways that resist such easy measurement. On the other hand, the historical markers here and there along the way remind one of other great distances traveled in these same parts.
The signs tell of Civil War campaigns, including the final march to Appomattox. They also carry place names -- Carolina, Virginia, Plymouth, Chinquapin -- that recall the American Revolution, the colonial era, European settlements and native peoples before.
How did we get here from there? Who along the way would have predicted it? Had those who fought and died in the various wars along the way known what was to come on that ground their lives hallowed would they have thought it worth the cost of those lives?
How strange would the trailer park look to them? How strange Arlington? How strange the road between the two -- Interstate 95, and smaller routes -- and the tens of thousands of vehicles speeding along at speeds unimaginable until quite recently in the sweep of time?
The Marine base Camp Lajeune and its ancillary airfield dominate the landscape along the coast and dozens of miles inland just a couple of miles north of Poverty Place, just as Quantico stands out on I-95 a bit south of Arlington. We saw quite a few helicopters buzzing along the coast over the weekend, and a few military jets screamed overhead this morning. We passed the main gate for the airfield today. Their sign said, "Pardon our noise. It's the sound of freedom."
It sounded a bit more like empire to me, and I'm sure that's not a sound that would have rung familiar to those whose lives are suggested by the signs along the way. But the road? It sounds like freedom, and I think those who came before us would recognize that sound even when it comes from a Harley or an 18-wheeler or the family minivan.
Monday, March 01, 2010
Coffee or Tea?
So now we have a Coffee Party to oppose the Tea Party.
I wonder if this is the next stage in the virtual reshaping of politics and the political sphere that internet theorists predicted 20 years ago. Is social networking becoming a political force beyond being used by the existing political parties and candidates and commercial/political interests?
It's far too soon to tell, especially considering that there's evidence that the Tea Party movement has had considerable corporate push behind its self-professed grass roots populism.
It seems that the Coffee Party, for now, is a spontaneous Facebook phenomenon with no discernible ties to the Democratic Party or to corporate funds.
If that turns out to be the case, and -- a much bigger if -- if the Coffee Party exerts any actual influence on political decision making, then it might be something new under the virtual sun.
Of course, the names of these countering movements indicate their deep roots in American political history, and it is no surprise that the party of tea is the conservative one while the party of coffee is progressive. After all, coffee became the American drink of choice when tea became associated with the British and with Tories -- the conservatives of their age. While contemporary Tea Partiers want to associate themselves with the instigators of the American Revolution, the name they have laid claim to suggests that perhaps they would have been aligned with King George.
Time will tell if the Coffee Party amounts to anything more than a blip, but if it does, perhaps the choice of coffee will come to mean more than merely an alternative to tea. At the very least, the option of mochas could well underscore more racial diversity in the Coffee Party than appears evident in most pictures from Tea Party events.
On the other hand, a cursory look at the Coffee Party Facebook friends list suggests that it's fairly monochrome thus far, as well. Which may simply be because Facebook is among the "stuff that white people like."
I wonder if this is the next stage in the virtual reshaping of politics and the political sphere that internet theorists predicted 20 years ago. Is social networking becoming a political force beyond being used by the existing political parties and candidates and commercial/political interests?
It's far too soon to tell, especially considering that there's evidence that the Tea Party movement has had considerable corporate push behind its self-professed grass roots populism.
It seems that the Coffee Party, for now, is a spontaneous Facebook phenomenon with no discernible ties to the Democratic Party or to corporate funds.
If that turns out to be the case, and -- a much bigger if -- if the Coffee Party exerts any actual influence on political decision making, then it might be something new under the virtual sun.
Of course, the names of these countering movements indicate their deep roots in American political history, and it is no surprise that the party of tea is the conservative one while the party of coffee is progressive. After all, coffee became the American drink of choice when tea became associated with the British and with Tories -- the conservatives of their age. While contemporary Tea Partiers want to associate themselves with the instigators of the American Revolution, the name they have laid claim to suggests that perhaps they would have been aligned with King George.
Time will tell if the Coffee Party amounts to anything more than a blip, but if it does, perhaps the choice of coffee will come to mean more than merely an alternative to tea. At the very least, the option of mochas could well underscore more racial diversity in the Coffee Party than appears evident in most pictures from Tea Party events.
On the other hand, a cursory look at the Coffee Party Facebook friends list suggests that it's fairly monochrome thus far, as well. Which may simply be because Facebook is among the "stuff that white people like."
Sunday, February 28, 2010
Oh, Canada
I'm not hockey fan, but watching the gold medal game between the U.S. and Canada this afternoon was about as much fun as I've had watching a sporting event in a long time.
Watching sports is an interesting phenomenon. I've been a sports fan all of my life, and can appreciate competition in most games even if I've never played the game.
Like hockey.
I can't even stand up on skates, much less try to accomplish anything remotely athletic on them. I can, however, appreciate the skill of the players and the thrill of the game. Not being a hockey fanatic, I could cheer for the U.S. of A., but not be invested in it like it seems all of Canada is. Had the Canadians lost that game winter might never have lifted from the great white north.
Playing a game is still more fun than watching one, although time and aging joints may change that perspective some day. For now, I'd rather play basketball than watch it -- even March Madness or the NBA finals. I'd rather run my three miles slowly than watch the Olympic 5,000 meter finals. I'd rather hit a golf ball into a pond than watch a professional strike one with precision.
But that was one hell of a hockey game.
Watching sports is an interesting phenomenon. I've been a sports fan all of my life, and can appreciate competition in most games even if I've never played the game.
Like hockey.
I can't even stand up on skates, much less try to accomplish anything remotely athletic on them. I can, however, appreciate the skill of the players and the thrill of the game. Not being a hockey fanatic, I could cheer for the U.S. of A., but not be invested in it like it seems all of Canada is. Had the Canadians lost that game winter might never have lifted from the great white north.
Playing a game is still more fun than watching one, although time and aging joints may change that perspective some day. For now, I'd rather play basketball than watch it -- even March Madness or the NBA finals. I'd rather run my three miles slowly than watch the Olympic 5,000 meter finals. I'd rather hit a golf ball into a pond than watch a professional strike one with precision.
But that was one hell of a hockey game.
Saturday, February 27, 2010
Lenten Hymn
THIS IS THE FAST
Is this the fast I choose for thee
Of ashes, tears and empty misery?
Or rather this: To share abundant bread
That all my children will be loved and fed.
Why do you fast, yet still not see
Your sisters suffering in poverty?
Their children cry, and still you do not hear;
Their fathers bowed and broken by their fear.
This is the fast I choose for thee
Of justice, peace and human liberty
Not forty days, but all your yearning years
My love will wipe away all human tears.
Break, bless and eat; then drink this wine
The fast I choose makes ev’ry midnight shine
You shall be called restorers of the streets.
Arise, now shine! And make your fast complete.
TUNE: Truro (Live Into Hope!; Christ is Alive!; Lift Up Your Heads, Ye Mighty Gates)
Is this the fast I choose for thee
Of ashes, tears and empty misery?
Or rather this: To share abundant bread
That all my children will be loved and fed.
Why do you fast, yet still not see
Your sisters suffering in poverty?
Their children cry, and still you do not hear;
Their fathers bowed and broken by their fear.
This is the fast I choose for thee
Of justice, peace and human liberty
Not forty days, but all your yearning years
My love will wipe away all human tears.
Break, bless and eat; then drink this wine
The fast I choose makes ev’ry midnight shine
You shall be called restorers of the streets.
Arise, now shine! And make your fast complete.
TUNE: Truro (Live Into Hope!; Christ is Alive!; Lift Up Your Heads, Ye Mighty Gates)
Friday, February 26, 2010
Sometime a Day Off Happens
Trying to do anything beyond bodily necessities for 40 consecutive days is tough. Writing is not a bodily necessity, and it does take time no matter how much or little one does.
I've been on the road all day. Though I enjoy it, driving is rather mind numbing and it's tough to write with a numb mind! I'm sure I've written at least parts of sermons -- if not the whole of some -- in that condition.
So when a day off happens I'll just take it and not try to wake up the brain this evening. Instead, I'll enjoy watching Olympic athletes who have undoubtedly practiced when their bodies and brains were numb.
I make no claims for being a medal-winning writer.
I've been on the road all day. Though I enjoy it, driving is rather mind numbing and it's tough to write with a numb mind! I'm sure I've written at least parts of sermons -- if not the whole of some -- in that condition.
So when a day off happens I'll just take it and not try to wake up the brain this evening. Instead, I'll enjoy watching Olympic athletes who have undoubtedly practiced when their bodies and brains were numb.
I make no claims for being a medal-winning writer.
Thursday, February 25, 2010
Time Is But a Stream ...
"Paternity is a relationship to a future that is not your own." So said the great Emmanuel Levinas in an essay that I was working over as I drafted my doctoral dissertation 19 years ago.
Oh, and 19 years ago, today, our first child was born. (Happy birthday, Bud!)
As our first son grows into adulthood I gain more personal understanding of Levinas' insight.
My mother has often said to me that she has no trouble imagining the past that came before her birth but that she has a hard time imagining the world going on without her. She tells me that imagining a future that is not her own is difficult to do.
Parents can dream their children's futures, but those are not the dreams of our children. We may receive the dreams from our fathers, to borrow the title of President Obama's book, but they are not our dreams. Our children may receive our dreams for them, but they are not our children's dreams.
The relationship that we have to the future that is not ours is tenuous, but it is also inescapable and it places the primary ethical burden of history squarely on our shoulders. We are responsible to that relationship and to that future which we will not experience.
Each generation is given the opportunity and the responsibility to create the future that its children will inhabit. That's why we keep on doing the often difficult and exhausting work of trying to make peace in a world addicted to violence, and to do justice in a world of structured injustice.
That's why the work on health care reform is so important. One way or another we are going to decide what kind of system our children will inherit, what kind of costs they will face, what burdens of ours they will carry.
Oh, and it's why I'm watching the stupid summit thing today when I could be getting more productive work done!
Oh, and 19 years ago, today, our first child was born. (Happy birthday, Bud!)
As our first son grows into adulthood I gain more personal understanding of Levinas' insight.
My mother has often said to me that she has no trouble imagining the past that came before her birth but that she has a hard time imagining the world going on without her. She tells me that imagining a future that is not her own is difficult to do.
Parents can dream their children's futures, but those are not the dreams of our children. We may receive the dreams from our fathers, to borrow the title of President Obama's book, but they are not our dreams. Our children may receive our dreams for them, but they are not our children's dreams.
The relationship that we have to the future that is not ours is tenuous, but it is also inescapable and it places the primary ethical burden of history squarely on our shoulders. We are responsible to that relationship and to that future which we will not experience.
Each generation is given the opportunity and the responsibility to create the future that its children will inhabit. That's why we keep on doing the often difficult and exhausting work of trying to make peace in a world addicted to violence, and to do justice in a world of structured injustice.
That's why the work on health care reform is so important. One way or another we are going to decide what kind of system our children will inherit, what kind of costs they will face, what burdens of ours they will carry.
Oh, and it's why I'm watching the stupid summit thing today when I could be getting more productive work done!
Wednesday, February 24, 2010
Bread and Stories
I noted over the weekend that National Capital Presbytery on Saturday endorsed three overtures that originated with Clarendon's session. (A friend in Minnesota says that must be a record for one session for a single General Assembly. To which I could only say, "who keeps such records?") In any case, I did not note that the meeting Saturday was remarkably grace-filled and much less antagonistic than most meetings where the church gathers to debate sexuality-related issues.
Some of the lack of rancor may have to do with debate fatigue and the clear sense that in National Capital Presbytery the issues are settled. Some of it last weekend may have been the relatively low attendance, due to the hastily rescheduled Saturday meeting. (The last time we voted on ordination issues there were more than 300 votes cast. Saturday it was about 135 or so.)
But I think two larger reasons for the comity prevailed.
The meeting ran from 10:00 a.m. to 2:00 p.m., and there was no provision made for lunch beyond, bring something to tide you over. When we learned of that, the board of the Presbytery's More Light chapter decided that we would bring food for everyone. So we organized sandwiches and snacks and gave them away to everyone.
Followers of Jesus know how important breaking bread is to our tradition. It is the way that we build relationships, and the sharing of bread may have helped some who disagree with us to see us as more than shrill opponents of the status quo.
While some may raise a question about the meeting organizers' lack of a lunch plan, no one should question their plans for the meeting itself. Framed entirely within a worshipful context, the gathering consisted largely of story telling around tables of six.
We were asked, initially, to share briefly a story that illuminated one of the proposed overtures. (There were five proposals to be voted on, two of which related to GLBT concerns, one on nonviolence, one on the Charter of Compassion, and one on Middle East affairs. All but the last were approved.)
I told the story of my friend, Joe. Most folks have a "first gay friend," and Joe is mine. At least he was the first out gay friend. One of my friends from kindergarten is gay and two of my hallmates from college are gay -- and have been together for more than 20 years.
But Joe was the first man who was out within our circle of friends in our Chicago days. He is a big, boisterous man -- a bit like a Labrador Retriever crossed with a Saint Bernard. He is a dangerous man to sit next to during while watching the Bears on TV -- especially in that Super Bowl year.
Joe attended an evangelical church in Chicago, and regularly told us, sometimes close to tears, about how his church condemned homosexuals. He was deep in the closet in that congregation, of course, but he loved its worship and his friends from the choir and he simply could not imagine that there might be a church that would welcome him fully so he continued to go, try to worship and come home feeling beaten up. This was at the height of the AIDS crisis, and the gay community as a whole was under assault from so many corners. As I recall those days and Joe's Sundays in them, I know that our repentance is long overdue.
Telling his story is far short of that, but it's what I could offer Saturday morning.
Others around the table shared their own stories. Our table reflected the voting pattern of the Presbytery as a whole on these issues over the past several year. Four of us were on the liberal side and two on the conservative side. The liberals' stories were about gay friends, neighbors or family members and about the experience of feeling excluded. The conservative stories were about struggles to remain faithful to strictly interpreted Biblical standards of behavior.
There was passion aplenty in the stories, but more importantly, there was an equal dose of compassion in the listening.
I am convinced, and the past 30 years of American experience seems to bear this out, that when the stories of gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgendered persons are told with honesty and heard with empathy that people are moved and positions changed. As Harvey Milk put it, "when they know that they know one of us then they vote with us."
That is not one hundred percent accurate, to be sure, but it is the truth nonetheless.
How can something that is not one hundred percent accurate still be the truth? I suppose that is part of the point. Stories can be true without being told with complete accuracy or perfect fidelity to whatever passes for the accepted history.
In the end, all we really have is the stories that tell us who we are and allow us to share that with others.
As Norman MacLean wrote in Young Men and Fire, his beautiful story of the tragic Mann Gulch fire of 1949, "If there is a story in Mann Gulch, it will take something of a storyteller at this date to find it, and it is not easy to imagine what impulses would lead him to search for it. He probably should be an old storyteller, at least old enough to know that the problem of identity is always a problem, not just a problem of youth, and even old enough to know that the nearest anyone can come at any give stage to finding himself is to find a story that somehow tells him about himself."
The problem of identity is always a problem. We find ourselves in the stories that tell us who we are. If we are honest with ourselves we will also confess that we are often too busy constructive our own stories to listen carefully to the stories others tell of themselves (much less the ones they tell of us). Moreover, because our identities themselves are at stake in the telling of stories, we most often find it far easier and more comfortable to exchange arguments and propositions and talking points.
So we remain divided and alone staring across vast chasms of disagreement or simply of lonely ignorance yearning for someone to ask us, "tell me your story."
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
Buckstacy!
Remember sniglets? Those made-up words that are so descriptive of everyday situations?
One of my favorites is "buckstacy" which is defined as the experience of finding money in your pocket when you didn't know any was there -- especially when putting on a coat for the first time as the weather gets colder.
I experienced frozen buckstacy today when I found a dollar where snow had melted away.
I thought immediately of the story of the old native American wisdom teacher who came to New York City for the first time to speak at a conference. One of the organizers met him in the morning to walk with him to the conference center. As they walked along the crowded sidewalks amidst the cacophony of the morning rush the old man stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and said, "hm, a cricket."
"What?" asked the organizer.
"A cricket. Don't you hear it?"
"Cricket? How can you hear a cricket with all this noise?"
The old man didn't say a thing. Instead, he simply reached into his pocket and took out some coins. He tossed them on the sidewalk and immediately dozens of people stopped still in their tracks.
"It all depends," the old man said, "on what you're listening for."
So we're talking in church this Lent about listening for God.
I've used that old tale before, but this afternoon after I picked up my buckstacy dollar it occurred to me that you have to know what a dollar looks like -- or what a coin sounds like -- before you attend to it on the street.
So, what does God sound like ... to you?
Monday, February 22, 2010
How Do You Get to Carnegie Hall?
I was reminded again this afternoon that you are what you practice. It's been almost three weeks since I've braved running the streets of Arlington. More accurately, there has been nowhere other than snow-narrowed streets to run until the past couple of days when sidewalks and bike paths began to reappear.
If you practice couch potatoing you become a couch potato, and couch potatoes find that first running a bit more painful than runners do. On the other hand, having been in the practice of running it was easier to start up again than it would have been had I not been running all winter.
The season of Lent invites us to take on a practice -- a spiritual discipline, if you will. Running has been part of that for me off and on for many years. I've never found that I love it, but I have found that I need it, not just physically but emotionally and spiritually as well.
We do become what we practice, and thus I have become a runner. Putting it that way, however, raises performance expectations that are ingrained in us in this culture from childhood. To be a runner -- or an athlete in general -- carries for many of us the implicit framework of winning and losing, and because I have neither the innate giftedness nor the drive and dedication to be competitive I will never win any races nor turn in any sterling times.
I'm just happy to get to the beer and pizza after the run! Nevertheless, I am a runner.
In the same way, as David LaMotte once told me, if you make music you are a musician. It doesn't matter whether or not you make great music for others to enjoy or simply sing a lot in the shower, if you make music you are a musician. You are what you practice.
The great thing about practices, from that point of view, is that it is never too late to become something new. You can take up painting and become a painter, or writing and become a writer, or cycling and become a cyclist.
The point is not to become the best in the world, but to take the gifts you have been given, even the ones you do not discover until late in life, and make the best out of them.
So it goes with my Lenten discipline this year: to write at least a little bit every day. Not with the expectation of becoming another Hemingway or Halberstam, but with the knowledge that I am a writer because I practice writing.
Practice does not make perfect, no matter what they say, because it is not about arriving at some point and crossing some arbitrary marker that makes one a writer or runner or whatever. Practice simply makes you what you are, and that will never be perfect or complete until the journey ends.
If you practice couch potatoing you become a couch potato, and couch potatoes find that first running a bit more painful than runners do. On the other hand, having been in the practice of running it was easier to start up again than it would have been had I not been running all winter.
The season of Lent invites us to take on a practice -- a spiritual discipline, if you will. Running has been part of that for me off and on for many years. I've never found that I love it, but I have found that I need it, not just physically but emotionally and spiritually as well.
We do become what we practice, and thus I have become a runner. Putting it that way, however, raises performance expectations that are ingrained in us in this culture from childhood. To be a runner -- or an athlete in general -- carries for many of us the implicit framework of winning and losing, and because I have neither the innate giftedness nor the drive and dedication to be competitive I will never win any races nor turn in any sterling times.
I'm just happy to get to the beer and pizza after the run! Nevertheless, I am a runner.
In the same way, as David LaMotte once told me, if you make music you are a musician. It doesn't matter whether or not you make great music for others to enjoy or simply sing a lot in the shower, if you make music you are a musician. You are what you practice.
The great thing about practices, from that point of view, is that it is never too late to become something new. You can take up painting and become a painter, or writing and become a writer, or cycling and become a cyclist.
The point is not to become the best in the world, but to take the gifts you have been given, even the ones you do not discover until late in life, and make the best out of them.
So it goes with my Lenten discipline this year: to write at least a little bit every day. Not with the expectation of becoming another Hemingway or Halberstam, but with the knowledge that I am a writer because I practice writing.
Practice does not make perfect, no matter what they say, because it is not about arriving at some point and crossing some arbitrary marker that makes one a writer or runner or whatever. Practice simply makes you what you are, and that will never be perfect or complete until the journey ends.
Sunday, February 21, 2010
Lent One
Tis the first Sunday of Lent. We seem to give up singing good songs for Lent in the church, making this the 40 days of dirges. I don't think this was the fast that God would choose. Indeed, Isaiah seemed to have something to say about that, but it's the end of a long Sunday and I'm much more interested in a glass of wine than the 58th chapter of Isaiah. So here are a few last shots of the snow as the great meltdown continues all around us.
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