In My Lifetime

Who do you say that I am?

Well I've learned a lot about myself this week.  I've been quizzed on all kinds of past addresses, telephone numbers, any tidbit of information that folks can come up with to establish my identity as the person I say I am.  I'm grateful for the diligence.  At this point the threat of identity theft is the greatest concern and it's completely valid given the breadth of ID and so forth that was stolen. 
But somethings far more important were stolen from me as well.  And these more important things gone have taught me the greatest lessons and given the most fuel for theological reflection.  It seems the experience becomes richer and richer by the day.  So I wanted just to record some of the thoughts about the week.
I've been thinking alot about the passage in Matthew 16: 15-16 where Jesus asks someone who knows him well... Peter, "who do you say I am?"  I ran across this great poster at the Mennonite Central Committee Store that talks about internalized racism and systematized racism.  I've felt just a touch of what it means to be "alien", "illegal", "other", "outsider" in a country.  I've spent the week knowing what it feels like to be outside the United States without proof of my  US citizenship, unable to freely travel across the border between the US and Canada.  Even in the extreme privilege I live in... even in my white, educated, middle classed package I've had to contend with the dilemma of building back an identity and proving who I am.
I've sat in Canadian government office for hours on end watching the endless parade of humanity that flows through the Ministry of Transportation, the Ministry of Health, the Passport office.  I've watched the families and admired the diversity of multicultural realities that have passed before me.  I've seen the children of immigrants and new citizens playing on the floors of the agencies as their parents wait their turn, numbers in hand, waiting for their number to appear on the signs showing which window to go to to solve their particular problem.  I've watched people of many languages and colors and cultures go to those windows and listened as Canadian government workers handle their issues with the utmost respect, affording them the dignity they deserve. I've seen the smiles as new landed immigrants leave with the documents they need to access healthcare or drive.  And I've seen smiling faces of all colors leaving the passport offices, new passport in hand, with the bubble of anticipation for going on a vacation or to visit friends or family in far, far away places all over the world.  I've nearly wept more than once as I listened to the government workers patiently talk with people who barely speak English.  I've nearly wept as they've patiently consoled me and assured me this will one day all be sorted.  Giving me reassuring smiles... just like they gave the Asian or Indian or African or Arab person who just preceded me in line.
All this has given me a new perspective on identity in general and my own identity particularly.  I have a new appreciation for the person who lives and works and falls in love and even has children in a country where they have no legal identity... where they have no proof of who they are.
I've also thought a lot about the concept of safety and what a fragile and illusive thing it is.  I've considered how I construct the idea of safety in my mind.  I've come to terms with the reality that it may be years before I feel truly safe again.  It was utter irony that in one of my 12 step meetings last Saturday as we were studying a book called Twelve Steps and Twelve Traditions I read a sentence I had never noticed before even though I'd read it God only knows how many times.  It's in the chapter on the 4th tradition and it says, "We had discovered that there was perfect safety in the process of trail and error."  I had been beating myself for my stupidity... for not having copies, for leaving my wallet in the car, for having so many documents in one bag, some that could have VERY easily been left behind at home in case of some disaster JUST such as this. But there it was, plain as day.  Lighten up.  Easy Does It. Let Go and Let God. This too shall pass. So what if you made a mistake, you'll learn and do better and maybe even help others to avoid the same fate.  "Perfect safety in the process if trial and error."  What a lesson.
Perhaps the thing that's weighed most heavily on my mind is how important identity is to a person and how very, very important it is that we allow each person to define or construct their own identity.  I've considered how infinitely more complex my challenges would have been this week if I'd ever changed my name or my gender identity.  The full force of having to check "female" on countless forms, over and over and over.  The complete disconnect saying "yes" to "have you ever been married" on the US Passport forms knowing that the US doesn't recognize my marriage even though it is a perfectly legal marriage in Canada that ought to be respected under the Marriage Treaty.  I've considered the serenity I've felt when I've spent time in prayer with the knowledge that God knows exactly who I am and what I need without filling out a single form, without me even needing to ask.
"Who do you say that I am?"  I wonder what Jesus expected to hear when he asked that question.  I wonder if Peter's answer matched who he understood himself to be... or was he surprised?
I give thanks for all the incarnations of the Christ who have come to me this week.  I wonder if they know who they've been to me?

A Funny Thing Happened on the Way Home from Dinner

   It's a funny feeling.... to move into a space that's familiar and "feel" that something's wrong.  Somthing's out of place, where is my GPS?  It must have fallen off the windshield onto the floor.  No.... why is that plug dangling?  And why is my bluetooth headset on the floor? Where IS that GPS? On no.... my backpack/briefcase is gone. My computer with all my records and data, my ipod, my .... good grief what all WAS in that bag?  What was on my computer?  Documents?  Pictures? Video? And my wallet, my passports ...  Call the police.  Get a report. Start the process of rebuilding my identity from the ground up.  My cell phone rings, it's the fraud alert system at my bank. They're already  trying to use my debit card and my credit cards.

It's a helpless feeling.  I'm in the states and going home tomorrow.  I don't have one single peice of identification to prove who I am.  Without those cards and passport books I'm nobody.  I could be anybody.  But there's no way to prove who I say I am.  It's an interesting philosophical and theological question really... who am I when I have no identity in the world?

I was Karen's friend.  She was with me.  We'd just had dinner.  Her calm presence was like the cool assurance of a rock to lean on as I phoned endless creditcards, consulates, consoled my spouse and partner.  Joan Martin, another friend, along with her partner and partner's brother had been dining at the same restaurant.  They came out, talked with us, went on to the shopping plaza across the street but later came back and checked on us before heading home.  They ended up walking the parking lot of the shopping plaza adjacent to the restaurant looking for my backpack hoping it had been discarded WITH my passports inside.  They stayed with us until we were finished with the police.  And before they left, Joan handed me $100 to get home on tomorrow.  Karen gave me another $100.  I cryed. Here I stand... in a parking lot in the dark now... with no papers to prove my identity, no objective data to show who I really am.  I'm Karen and Joan's friend.  I'm Lillian's spouse.  I'm Rachelle's partner.  I'm Jo and Brent and Jim and Nancy's clergy colleague.  I'm Lisa's student.  I'm Barry's sales rep.  I'm still on a deadline to get an article finished by the end of the month.  I'm still an alumnae of Episcopal Divinity School.  I'm still a child of God, fragile and precious, frightened and sad.

The gratitude I feel is overwhelming.  I was on my way home tomorrow for a couple of weeks... time to get everything in order and rebuild my identity and fiscal world.  Time to put in the insurance claim and begin to plan to buy a new computer and begin to rebuild my work life and get prepared for the fall. Time to relax and just breath and be grateful that we weren't personally attacked, that they didn't break the windows in my car, that they didn't steal my camera gear, or my Treo,  or the work equipment that was in the back of my car.

It will be an interesting couple of weeks. And it's funny how priorities change. It's amazing how all the stuff on my computer will be gone and I'll still find a way to function and go forward.  My passwords will never be the same.  I may never leave anything of value in my car again.  I can see me lugging a bag everywhere from now on.  Some things will change.  Some will stay the same. This too shall pass.

I'm going to bed and try to get some sleep.  Tomorrow I'll try to figure out who I am and how to get the world to believe it without any proof at all... Except the confidence of those who know me and love me.

Trinity Cathedral, Cleveland, OH

I was in Cleveland over the holiday weekend and wanted to go to church on Sunday.  There is no MCC in Cleveland so where to go?  As usual, I digress back to my Anglican roots.  And since the dean of Trinity Cathedral (Episcopal) in Cleveland is an out lesbian, it seemed like the logical place to go.

When we arrived I realized I was a little daunted by the traditional exterior of the cathedral.  It's a beautiful building on the historic register.  It has a wonderful addition/annex called Trinity Commons with shops, offices, classrooms... facilities that any parish would .... well, envy. But the traditional older part of the exterior was daunting.  And my heart sank a little bit as I remembered the mantra of one of the professors from my seminary who said over and over, "the architecture always wins."  I felt myself dreading the "airplane seating" all faced forward service sitting on wooden pews that were designed as a form of self punishment.

My partner insisted on entering the space through the front door.  And as we did I was simply stunned. There were no pews!  There were only chairs.  And the altar had been pulled down from the chancel and was in the MIDDLE OF THE NAVE!  The comfortable chairs were arranged all the way around the altar.  The grand piano on one side of the space, the small wooden lectern on the other side.  One could sit facing the front doors or facing the beautiful high altar of the cathedral.  We opted to sit facing toward what would have been the front of the space, positioned to be able to see the preacher who was Dean Tracey Lind. 

The experienced continued to be delightful.  The language was inclusive, the theology was open and progressive.  The sermon was interesting, the music was lovely with lots of congregational singing which I enjoy very much.  But when we arrived at the Eucharist we had come to the "piece de resistance."  Dean Lind and a male associate clergy stood one on either side of the altar.  They co-consecrated the elements, sharing the role of celebrant in a beautiful expression of gender balance. And perhaps the very best was that in the service leaflet and announced in the service were the words "all are welcome" and they meant it.  It's not unusual in progressive parishes for something to be said like "all baptized" or "all Christians" are welcome.   I don't recall many Episcopal or Anglican Church of Canada services where the unqualified phrase "all are welcome" is used.  This could mean Muslims, Jews, agnostics, pagans, wiccans.... anyone could receive without any worry of being disrespectful.

I wrote a note to Dean Lind tonight thanking her and the parish for the lovely worship experience.  It's a rare thing to see a parish put it's pews where it's theological heart is.  But Sunday's visit to Trinity Cathedral proved it CAN be done.  I reckon the architecture doesn't always have to win.

I hope you will visit Trinity Cathedral when you visit Cleveland.  It made my weekend.  And I'll be back.

 

Sometimes I Can't Sleep

Tonight is one of those miserable nights when I can't sleep.  I ought to be sleepy, I didn't sleep well last night, I played golf this morning, I spent some time in the sun this afternoon, went to a meeting tonight.... but I just don't feel sleepy.  So I sit up watching 24 hour news and cruising the internet.
Hostages freed in Columbia
Oil hits $144 per barrel
Stocks plunged again
Reproductive rights activist Morgentaler gets the Order of Canada (I love this country)
Rampaging construction vehicle kills Israel
Just a another day in paradise.

But my life is different. I heard stories of surviving the death grip of alcoholism today.  I listened to a friend talk about her 27 year old son who found her after she'd given him up for adoption at birth.  I was asked for help to work the steps by someone working on recovery.  I leave tomorrow to spend 3 days with someone I love deeply. I have more friends and more love in my life than most people can imagine.  I have a God of my understanding who never leaves me and listens to my pleas for help with parts of my life that need improvement.

Counting my blessings seems like a good way to pass the time.