Vision

I am serving on my parish's search committee as we seek a new priest. We have just begun the process and another committee is beginning the work of self-study and development of a vision of who we are and where we see ourselves going. I'm not involved in that, to every one's relief. I get lost in the minutiae of gathering and collating the thoughts of a few hundred people! But I did come across a terribly apropos blog post at Father Jake's. Please read it in its entirety:

Evangelism for Today's World: Radical Welcome

The notion of radical welcome is both wonderful and scary. Sort of like the whole Gospel. And maybe that is the whole Gospel. God's radical welcome of us. Elizabeth Gilbert, in "Eat, Pray, Love" quotes one of her teachers in India as saying something along the lines of "God is in you, as you." I quoted that during our search committee retreat. As we were seeking to identify our own gifts and vision, I encouraged people to recognize that who they are is a reflection of God's very image. That's not to say we don't all have things to improve. But at my core, I am the image of God. And it is that, the heart of my humanity, that God welcomes. I am not like others, and yet I am inescapably bound to all of my sisters and brothers.

Father Jake quotes Archbishop Desmond Tutu in talking about Ubuntu, the idea that we are persons only through other people, our humanity is never a solitary proposition. In light of that, which I think is very reflective of the biblical ideal of community, isn't it vital that we welcome and embrace all who come to us? That we realize that only in accepting others can we accept our own humanity and accept God.

I shared this, in a longer and more wordy email, with the chair of our committee and expressed the hope that this is my vision for our parish, indeed for the whole of the Church.




On a more personal and mundane note, I got a text from a friend, a recently divorced woman, the other day, asking why every man who is emotionally, financially, or mentally unstable is totally attracted to her. I responded that anytime a man lets me know he finds me attractive, I know immediately he is either married, partnered, or dating! And that's almost the truth. The guys with whom I share the most mutual attraction, all totally innocent, are all unavailable. Of course, part of the attraction on my part is the stable and committed relationship I am witnessing!

Except for this one guy. Who reminds, slightly, of the guy I wrote about a while back. The one who deep down wants to be straight and only wants a relationship with another "straight" guy. Anway, this friend really wants to date me, at least that's what I'm picking up from him. Besides the fact that I'm only mildly physically attracted to him, he's one of the I'm gay but in the closet but not really in the closet but don't like the "scene" kind of guys.

OK, so I get the guys who don't like the "scene", whatever that is. Because in my experience, there are just lots of scenes and lots of guys overlapping from one to the other. In a smaller city like Birmingham, lots of guys who aren't really clubing types are at a club because our options aren't as diverse as in larger cities. It's more about seeing people you know. And I get that the community can be superficial. But so can every community. And I understand that some people don't like the idea of advertising their sexuality, although my straight friends do it in small and large ways all the time without even thinking about it.

But I'm not sure I can date someone who seems so unhappy with the gay community and, seemingly at some level, with being gay. I mean, I love being involved in the community. I love singing in the chorus. I love doing things at Birmingham AIDS Outreach. I love volunteering with Equality Alabama. I like going to Pride and seeing the enormous diversity, from the tables of people selling things that I'm sure are probably illegal in this repressive state to the beautiful sounds of the Covenant Community Church choir on stage.

Actually, I guess after writing that, I know I can't date someone who is basically not happy with things that mean something to me. So that question is answered. What is unanswered is why do I feel like a magnet for the unavailable or those who don't share many of my values?!? Of course, if I'm a magnet for them, I guess that means I should just keep trying. The more involved I am, the more people I meet, as friends as well as perhaps a potential date!

-David

So much....

Sometimes so much comes at me that I cannot find words or thoughts or feelings to capture it all.

Saturday night I found myself at a party for the chorus (The Magic City Choral Society Men's Chorus) in which I sing. The few times I am at an event surrounded by other gay people, such as the GCN conference in DC this past January or this party, I am amazed at how much sense the world suddenly makes. I tell my handful of gay friends that I live in an overwhelmingly straight world. In one sense, as a small minority, we all do. But my world was built around straight people. My parish is full of straight people, except for me. All of my closest and oldest friends are straight. Everyone I work with is straight. So much so that I sometimes forget the difference. Until I'm with a large group of gay people and all of a sudden I realize that in some important ways, these are people who see and experience the world and personal relationships in ways that I share. And it is just liberating. That's really the word for my experience of it. It was a great party and a chance to begin getting know some of the men I see week after week, but don't really spend much time with on a personal level. It helped me realize that a significant part of the loneliness I sometimes feel is not about an intimate relationship, but about friendship.

This morning, as I sat listening to the Scripture readings, a phrase from Acts leapt out and almost grabbed me. I was surprised at this because I thought I would be totally focused on the Gospel, the story of the two friends traveling to Emmaus, my favorite of all biblical stories. But the words from Acts were all I could think of.

"The promise is for you."

These words grabbed me hard and personally. They were words I desperately needed to hear. I have lately found myself, more often, feeling unwelcome. My parish is in no way unwelcoming. But it is the constant division in the Episcopal Church over the role of gays and lesbians. I understand the arguments, the struggle, the very real pain on the part of many straight people in wrestling with these issues. But on my side of this fence, I feel excluded, left out, second class. I want to stand and shout - I am a person, a child of God, a lover no different than you.

"The promise is for you."

It is for me. No matter what any person, any priest or bishop, or my Church might ever say, the promise is for me. I am God's beloved. My love is rooted in God and I am the image of God, all of me. While I didn't leave church with my discontent resolved, I felt at peace with myself, if not with my Church.

This afternoon, I found myself swirling in turmoil and confusion. And I'll be honest. It was, is, rooted in lust. Or at least that's the trigger.

I met a guy this afternoon, totally randomly, innocently, and unexpectedly. We struck up a conversation, talking about books we like, current events. It was random, but totally appropriate. It was odd, and I suspected that he was interested in me beyond what would happen with a straight guy. As it turns out, he was. And I liked that, because he is a smart, attractive, and successful attorney. After we crossed that awkward point, in realizing that we were attracted to each other, we began talking a bit more about our personal life. And that's when I began to be uneasy. I was intensely attracted to him and thought that this would be someone worth getting to know. But as he talked, I became aware that at the root, he was unhappy with his attraction to men, though he enjoyed it physically, and wanted me to the be same. I suppose it made it safe for him. Made it possible for him to be "straight" and still do something else when he wanted.

I wanted to be someone he would like. He did like me and we connected, but clearly, if we were going to continue to talk, and to possibly talk again, I couldn't be who I am. Proud of who I am. Can I hide that? Just because some guy comes so incredibly close to being physically and mentally perfect for me, at least insofar as I can judge that on an hour of conversation?

No. Randomly, or perhaps an evidence of grace, my mind dredged up that phrase from Acts. The promise is for you. It is for me. As I am. Proud. Out. Confident.

So I was honest. To his credit, he was honest in return. Basically, he was looking for a "straight" guy. Initially, he was very attracted to me. Actually, he still was. Mentally, intellectually, on a potential friend level, he felt a strong connection. And he wasn't really homophobic. At least not in an open way. But a guy who is gay, who knows he is gay, and is happy being gay, that was more than he can be comfortable with. So that was that. Very polite. No problem.

There was, of course, a sense of disappointment for me, but nothing serious. However, I was upset with myself that I actually considered pretending to be something I'm not just to get to know this guy. I seriously considered it. It wasn't a passing thought. It was a real contemplation of how I could make this work.

Am I so easily tempted by lust? Because, honestly, that's what it was. I hate to think that I can be so easily led to suppress my identity, an identity I've struggled to embrace.

There is always something to work on.

-David