In My Lifetime

The Heart of India

 I am closely following, as I'm sure you are following, the events in Mumbai, India as the crisis enters the third day of terror.  News of the Rabbi and his family's murder, news of the father and daughter visiting India as part of a meditation group from Virginia, news of a Jewish man from Vancouver who escaped, news of the young Indian boy whose entire family have been killed and no one has the heart to tell him about it, pictures of blood and bags and shoes left behind when the bodies of the dead were removed from the train station.
And now news that most of the terrorists were Pakistanis.  The blame game will begin in hours... India against Pakistan.

I can do nothing but pray.  There are likely bodies yet to be found.  There may be injured dying without help inside buildings still under seige. Other injured in pain and living each moment in terror. The security people and police are obviously in need of our prayers for their safety, for their comfort, for their sanity.  We certainly need to pray for the officials of the Indian, Pakistani, British, US and other countries government for clarity of thought and action.

My hope is that we pay attention and not look away or become desensitized to the horror.  We cannot allow this to become normal or acceptable.  We must continue to work for peace and justice, safety and security for everyone.... every single person in the world.

May the God who makes us all One touch our hearts to motivate us to work for justice and comfort us in our greif.

Counting Blessings

God has a real sense of humour.  This week has just been one little "noogie" after another.  So God, if you're reading my blog, you have my attention. 

This cycle actually started a couple of weeks ago when I met one of my s/heros at her home in the Boston area.  This is a woman who began to write courageous, and some said outrageous, work since the mid 1960's. She's an icon to many of my generation whether one likes her or her ideas or not. 

As I entered her home for a very short "audience" arranged by a mutual friend she greeted me warmly and sat across from me. Although her body seemed somewhat frail her spirit was decidedly "large and in charge."  When the time came for our first interaction she looked at me very squarely in the eye and said, "So, what's so great about you?" I was completely disarmed.  I laughed and said I wasn't at all sure there was anything at all so great about me.  After a few minutes of jockeying around and trading uneasy comments back and forth with our mutual friend and my host, she turned to me again looking me squarely in the eye and said again, "What IS so great about you?"  I realized this question was in no way rhetorical but demanded an answer before we could proceed.  I said, "Well, I work hard, I do my best to be honest, and I try to be a good friend." My host nodded and the conversation proceeded smoothly and pleasantly.

Fast forward to this past Sunday after two weeks travel, driving home from Boston on Friday, attending an all day meeting in Toronto on Saturday and returning to Toronto for services on Sunday morning and more meetings, I was to preach a sermon on Sunday evening exploring a multi-gendered image of God. That afternoon I got a call from a very close friend asking me to go and visit a close friend of hers in a palliative care facility.  I immediately rerouted my car and went to the hospital where I found a lovely woman gently caring for her husband of 40 years.  She was gracious to me, inviting me in immediately after I explained our mutual friend connection.  We sat together in the room with her mate as she described for me that events that had lead them to this day with her partner dying slowly.  When our mutual friends arrived she promptly "came out" to me as a transgender woman.  I sat for another hour or so listening to their reminesences of their early years together 40+ years ago.  I just shook my head when I left.  The sermon I had prepared was a good grounding for the REAL sermon I was to preach.  That sermon required me to relate the beauty of the love this woman has for her mate and call attention to her love as a mirror of God's love for us. Truly and unmistakably a transgender image of God.  What an incerdible experience.

On Monday morning I finally got around to fasting so that I could go in and have some blood work done that I had put off since May when I'd had my physical exam at my doctor.  I was going in to get my flu shot anyhow so I thought I'd finally get off my bum and get "caught up" with what I was supposed to do.  About 6pm that evening I got a nearly hysterical phone call from my Dr's office.  One of the doctors was phoning me telling me to "go to the hospital immediately."  My red blood count was critically low, dangerously so, and I would require blood transfusions immediately.  Frankly I was quite sure there was some mistake but the doctor convinced me to go to emerg.  I went thinking they would pull more blood, see there was an error and I'd be on my way home.  But that was not the case and instead I spent the night in the hospital getting blood transfusions. 

Tuesday was my 52nd birthday.  I walked out of the hosptial into heavy snow falling. I went to get a coffee, and yes a donut, and sat in my car until time for my previously scheduled appointment with an orthopedic specialist to discuss nearly constant and often severe pain in my knee that I've had for several weeks.  I'll be having scope surgery on the knee in the near future.

I saw my doctor yesterday and she literally put the fear of God into me regarding my health.  Her mantra was "you REALLY have to take this seriously."  I assured her I am taking it seriously.  But for effect she continued to try to find various ways to explain the situation to me. She said, "If you'd been 20 years older there would have been a line of a form that said, 'FOUND IN HOME.' " Ok, ok.... I get it.  I nearly killed myself and didn't realize I was sick.  I'm not paying attention.  I'm busy doing all the things I'm supposed to do going full speed ahead and not realizing I'm about to run out of gas, at night, in the middle of nowhere, and I'm going to lose a LOT of time trying to get the car back on the road.  I mean let's get real, I'd never treat my car like I've been treating my body.

It occurs to me that blessings are received by being present.  Translation.... I have to show up to get the blessings in my life. First I have to be alive, second I have to show up, and finally  I have to be aware enough to be present to what is happening.  I spoke last night about my need to show up for the blessings in my life and my need to be aware of the blessings that I'm receiving.

So this morning, after feeling a little sorry for myself that I'm lonely on Thanksgiving and sick to boot... after my little pity party.... I'm very aware that my friend Susan phoned. She called just at the moment I would have left my mother's house as she was dying 19 years ago today.   She didn't know I needed a distraction.  She just phoned me to chat and catch up.  She was my blessing this morning.  She was the vehicle God used to get my attention this morning. 
Ok so you have my attention.  I've lived through abusing my body and am on the mend.  I'm showing up to be in relationship with people I love, although I do have some repair work to do on this front.  And most of all I am acutely aware of God's presence and blessing in my life today. 
I hope all of you in the states are enjoying a wonderful Thanksgiving holiday. And for those of you in other places it's still a good time to count blessings and remember to give thanks.
Happy Thanksgiving

This beautiful image is called Blessing Ritual and can be found at Designs by Willow

I hope you will visit her site and see her other beautiful work.

What if.....

I don't usually play the "what if" game.  It's usually a fruitless endeavour that wastes my time in a "la la land" of wishes and whines.  But I've been thinking today about all the time and energy and money and creativity and synergy that has erupted around demonstrations condemning the passing of Proposition 8 in California and other punitive anti-GLBT ballot initiatives in Florida and Arkansas.

I've been absolutely amazed to hear that there were demonstrations in 300 major cities in the US this weekend.... 300!  Holy cow.  That's a LOT of mostly white, mostly economically privileged and surely mostly over educated queers getting up off their sofas or leaving their lattes to just get up and DO something.  It's utterly amazing.  You usually couldn't blast us out of our Home Depot buying, yard working, antique shopping, dinner party giving selves with a stick of dynamite.  But letting something so egregious pass in the liberal haven of California has suddenly awakened this sleeping giant and has us demonstrating in the streets for justice.... JUSTICE!  Equality! Religious pluralism!  It's gratifying to know that something has the power to get us off our bums.  But....
I can't help but wonder why we weren't in the streets with signs about 43 million people in this country that have no health insurance and therefore little or no access to healthcare. Isn't healthcare a civil right?  And what about poverty and homelessness, no jobs for young black men, no opportunity for poor kids of all colors with no access to education.  Isn't that important?  And speaking of healthcare what about the transgendered people in our midsts who are utterly disrespected by the healthcare system?  Why aren't we demonstrating in the streets about the government's tolerance and blind eye to estimates of 60% infection rates for HIV in minority populations in Washington DC.... 65% estimated in minority populations in Jackson, MS.
Don't get me wrong I'm not saying this isn't important... although I think we need to be critiquing marriage as much as working for equal access to it... but I digress.  No I think that us getting up and getting in the streets is a good thing.  I just hope that one day we grow up and realize that until all of us are free, none of us are free.  Until all of us have access to civil rights, none of us do.  Until all of us have healthcare, none of us do.  Until there is justice for ALL, there is no justice.

Fire Alarm @ 4am

There's nothing like a fire alarm at 4am to make one reorder one's priorities. I've just returned in from sitting in my car for nearly an hour only to find that my body is now coursing with adrenalin and has little hope of falling back to sleep.
What will I do with this "found time?" Some research.  Yes that will be good.  Some email to friends and a little catchup with people I love.  Yes that will be a good use of the time as well.
But I keep thinking about something I saw on TV this week where Billy Graham's two grandsons were talking about him on the occasion of his 90th birthday.  I believe they were referring to the Nixon inauguration... I can't remember.  But Billy Graham was there and they had not caught up with him.  So at about 11:00pm or so they decided to knock on his hotel room door not thinking he would be there because he could have been out with anyone he wanted to be with that night.  But they knocked and he answered in pajamas and invited them in. One of the grandson's commented that on his bed lay an open bible.  He had been sitting there reading and studying it by himself, with no one looking, no press, no TV, no one to impress.  And he was reading and meditating on a night and in a town where he could have been a dozen other places with glamorous and powerful people, no doubt having fun.  But his grandson's were struck by the fact that he was there, spending "alone time" with God.
It brought me up short.  I don't do enough of that.  I don't spend enough time with scripture or in prayer and meditation, getting to know God better.  I priest friend of mine once said that any relationship requires an investment of time and effort.  And our relationship with God is no different.
So I think I'll take a little time in this sweet "found" time to read and meditate with God.  That might do more for my productivity than anything else I could spend the time on.  At the very least, I know it won't be wasted time.

Venti Nofoam Latte Please

 

My friend and former classmate Mary Cat sent me this You Tube clip this morning. Lillian and I watched it with horrified recognition.  We counted the similarities and accurate depictions.  Among my favourite were:

• The bumper stickers
• Reserved parking close to the door for those in authority
• All the doors locked except one but you have find out which by trial and error if you're new.
• People who just look you up and down and turn away
• Being embarrassed by calling attention to being "new"
• Being asked to fill out personal information in order to participate
• Calling attention to the tip jar
• Hidden restrooms

All these things resonate with me.  As I look at the list I made above I'm thinking about all the ways we "screen" people and do not provide the basic needs that folks have to feel welcome and "get what they came for."  I think what struck me most soundly was that a retail location providing a product to the market relies on the value of that "product" to bring people in.  And yes of course it relies on branding, ease of entrance to the store, availability of restrooms and other services that make the experience pleasant and enjoyable.
I found it interesting that the special "language" that one is expected to learn just to place an order at a Starbuck's is not challenged.... but I digress.
What I'm really thinking about is this.... to what extent to people who come to church expect to get a "product" and expect to walk away satisfied?  And to what extent is this a reasonable expectation?  Should coming to church be an "exchange" transaction?
Sure I think there are some real issues to deal with there.  But the point of this little video regarding just the points of "welcome" and "hospitality"  are genuine and poignant. 
What IF the new church plant I'm working on took these things to heart?  Would it make a difference? I wonder.

The Nature of Grief and Pain

I went to the doctor this week.  This is something I do only twice per year.  Once for a physical examination and the second for a flu shot.  This visit was for neither. I finally broke down and went after my knee pain had become so severe at night that I could no longer sleep.  My theory was that the doctor would just tell me I was too fat, lose some weight, and then my knee wouldn't hurt.

It didn't go that way.  She said, "Six weeks!  Why haven't you been here before?"  We discussed possible diagnoses, she sent me for x-rays to rule out arthritis and made an appointment with an orthopedic specialist.  She sent me home with strict orders to stay off my leg, keep it wrapped in a knee brace, take medication, ice it, use topical anti-inflammatories.... hardly what I expected.

I've noticed that when it's hurting, there's no space in my brain or my reality for anything except trying to figure out how to make it stop hurting.  I writhe and whine, I take meds, ice it, put the topical anti-inflammatory on it and I've noticed that when it's just so bad that I break down and cry.... somehow that helps. 

The pain in my knee is only part of what's going on with me at this particular time.  My friend Bonnie is still in critical condition in hospital in NC.  Beloved Paul has maybe 2 weeks left in his journey of death by brain tumor. I'm going to turn 52 in a couple of weeks and pass the 18th anniversary of my mother's death on the 22nd. And on and on.  There's a lot to cry about even in the midst of the joy of the Obama win and the first informational meeting for the church plant in Niagara coming up in the middle of all the rest.  

The mystery is why crying helps.  For years my partner has said, "Tears are holy."  I've scoffed and laughed.  Holy my a$$.  They give me a headache, stuff up my nose, make me feel like a fool and a baby.  Holy indeed.  But dealing with the grief I'm feeling these days and even the physical pain, sometimes I cry.  And you know, it helps.  I don't know how or why.  But it does.  It's soothing.  There's no one there to comfort me, I don't do it in front of anyone, not even Lillian.  But I rock and cry and bury my head in my hands.   And after a few minutes, I feel a little better.  It's like magic.

Maybe tears release some kind of chemicals in the body and the brain that relax and comfort emotional and physical pain. It's probably not the actual water that comes out of my eyes.  It's probably the psychic energy that is released when I give up, give in and just cry.  Maybe it's the memory of being a child and crying and feeling loving arms around me comforting me.

It seems a little wierd to learn to cry at 52.  But hey, better late than never I reckon.

President-elect Obama.... Now that has a nice ring!

I admit it.  I never thought the United States could elect a black man president.  Even when Hillary was fumbling her campaign so painfully I still supported her because I thought a black man could not get elected.  I was wrong. The kids were right. 

The day I went to Toronto and got married to my female partner I thought I had learned my lesson on "possibility." The day I sat in a hockey arena for the consecration of an openly gay man as a bishop in the Episcopal Church in New Hampshire I thought I had learned my lesson on "possibility."  And yet I doubted.  But President-elect Obama spoke to me directly last night when he said, "To those who still have doubt... tonight is your answer."

I wept as he spoke.  I wept for every person I've seen victimized by racism.  I wept for every racist thought I've ever had.  I wept for my lack of imagination that kept me from believing this could happen.  I wept with joy in anticipating seeing the United States of America restored to respect and ethical action in the world.

I understand the challenges are not over.  President-elect Obama is considering Larry Summers as Secretary of the Treasury.  Larry Summers believes that women are genetically inferior to men intellectually.  He was ousted from being president of Harvard for those neaderthal beliefs.  Yet the transition team for the Obama administration is considering someone who believes that one group of people are genetically inferior to another group of people.  We're not out of the woods simply because we have a president who understands privilege from one perspective.  We still have work to do to hold this administration responsible to BE all that it can be.  I've already sent my email to the organization on this subject.  I hope you will do the same.

Today my prayers are doubled for President-elect Obama.  I pray for his safety, for his health, for his wisdom, for his faith to be sustained, for his strength, for his hope to be realized.  May God bless President-elect Barack Obama.  And my God bless the United States of America and the whole world... no exceptions.