When Provocation Masquerades as Inclusivity, or Why I Don't Say "Queer" Any More

     I was at a training yesterday--in a CME church.  It was a diverse group--mainly African American and white.  I lamented again that more of our Latino siblings--so often present in the work we do together--were not present at this larger group meeting.  Most folks were Christian, but we also had Muslims and Jews; their presence marks growth for the organization.  We're trying to be more inclusive.
   The funny thing about inclusivity, though, is that it thrusts you out of your comfort zone.  Let me rephrase that:  the funny thing about real inclusivity, is that it thrusts you out of your comfort zone.  I used the word "siblings" above.  This is the direct result of being agitated by a couple of my younger members, who insist (rightly, alas), that the oft-used "brothers and sisters" doesn't include those whose gender identity doesn't fall neatly on the binary.  So I'm working on saying "siblings," though there is a personal cost, as I feel more named by the more particular phrase "brothers and sisters."
   There is always a cost to inclusivity.  Feel free to argue, but I'm quite convinced.  Sometimes it means letting go of language you love, of hearing yourself named in the particular as a "sister" alongside your "brothers" (who used to be named all by themselves, while the sisters stood invisible).  And sometimes it means letting go of your need to control language, to hear only things you want to hear.
   At the training, both the opening and closing prayers were offered to "Father God."  The phrase was repeated throughout the opening prayer.  I had a little fantasy after about being asked to offer the closing prayer and praying "Mother God" throughout.  It would have pleased me, and likely pleased the rest of the people in the room who pray to a less gendered God, a God who is father and mother, he and she.  That God was not named much yesterday.
   God remained unchanged, though.  And my standing to offer a prayer which was mostly intended to stand over against the language I heard earlier would have been much more about me than about God. I would have been sacrificing my desire to be in relationship with the pray-ers to my need to provoke them to think about their exclusive language.  I wasn't willing to do that, and I feel good about the decision.  "Father God" is the language used by that tradition.  If I am to be in relationship with members of that tradition, I will need to sacrifice my need to hear God named in the language I prefer at all times.  Comfort sacrificed to relationship.  Scratch a healthy marriage, or other healthy relationship, and you will find a sub-strata of sacrifice for the other.
   I went to seminary in Berkeley, California.  I came out then, and entered into the joy of Berkeley's Queer Community.  The capital letters are intentional--the Queer Community in Berkeley is singular.  Case in point--pretty much no one is offended by the word "queer."  The first undergrad course in LGBTQ Studies was offered at U.C. Berkeley in 1970.  Today those courses are more particular and tend to have names like "Interpreting the Queer Past:  Methods and Problems in the History of Sexuality" and "Queer Visual Culture."
   "Queer" is a nice inclusive word.  It frees one from what is often called the "alphabet soup" of alternative gender and sexual identity.  I was good with being "queer."  The people I knew who were queer didn't mind being called queer.
   Then I moved back to the Midwest, first for internship in Ann Arbor, Michigan, and then to take a call in Kansas City, Missouri.  In both places, I learned that there are people who find "queer" to be a deeply offensive word.  And maybe we could reclaim it, as they have done elsewhere.  But there would be a lot of human pain in the wake of that reclamation project, and that's a cost too high, I believe.
   So I don't say "queer."  I do the alphabet soup, or I name the particular group I'm referencing.  I refer to myself as a "lesbian" most often, but sometimes even say "gay" now (which would have been unlikely in Berkeley, where people are more sensitive to male hegemonic language usage).
   Living together in community is messy.  Relationships are messy.  Sometimes you have to give.  To get.

McJustice

            The last week of July was a wild one at my church.

At our church, which used to be pretty quiet during the week, about three hundred people streamed in and out at all hours of the day and night, from late July through early August.  And then again, some three weeks later.

As recently as three years ago, our church lay fallow for most of the hours between Sunday coffee hour and the following Sunday’s worship on any given week. Then there was a merger, and a new mission of “building hope and proclaiming peace on the Troost Corridor.”  Our first real test of the integrity of that mission came a few months later, when we were asked to provide a home for Occupy Kansas City over the winter.  We said yes and coughed up a large office on our third floor.  Thus began our relationship with what is now the Midwest Center for Equality and Democracy.  MCED formed the Worker’s Organizing Campaign of Kansas City, and that’s how we found ourselves at the center of a labor rights movement unlike any seen in decades—the campaign to alleviate some of the pain of low wage workers.

The recession has been good for fast food restaurants.  Theirs is the segment of the industry which has grown since 2007.  According to Bloomberg, McDonald’s saw its profit rise 135% between 2007 and 2011.  It’s CEO made $8.75 million last year.  None of that largesse has trickled down to workers, alas.  The median salary for a fast food worker was $18,564 in 2012.[1]  Nearly all of them start at minimum wage, and raises are slow and difficult to come by. 

There are lots of moving parts to this campaign, but the its primary thrust has been provided by a pair of nationwide strikes meant to highlight the plight of workers making poverty wages.  In Kansas City, the strikes meant a whole lot of people in our church building.  And out.  And back in.  We began at six a.m. on the strike days, and went into the evening, layering actions at fast food restaurants with rallies and even a bar-b-que.  Then the walk-backs begin.  For days after, the workers were accompanied by teams of community leaders—elected officials, organizers, faith leaders—as they returned to work.  It was the job of the walk-back team to let managers know that their workers had been part of a legal job action, and that any retaliation would be unlawful.

Then we watched and waited.  When workers were threatened, phone calls ensued.     It is still too soon to know how effective the movement has been so far.  We know that some workers have actually seen an improvement in working conditions and hours.  There is still a mountain of work ahead to ensure a just and living wage for the workers, most of whom are over twenty years old, and many of whom are supporting families.  But we are proud of the movement so far.

And I am proud of St. Mark Hope and Peace Lutheran Church.  It is not easy to host a labor movement.  The day it rained, our floors looked pretty awful.  There were many bags of trash and boxes of recycling.  It was hot and humid, so our electric bill wasn’t pretty.  And we didn’t pay attention to the folks going in and out of the fridge, so we didn’t notice until Sunday that some hungry body ate the communion bread.  We used a hot dog bun a member brought from Chubby’s Diner after a frantic phone call from the communion assistant.  I hope we never have to do that again, but I wonder if it wasn’t rather appropriate.  A simple, even pedestrian representation of Christ’s body, on a week when we simply walked alongside the least of our siblings in Christ.  A wild week in which God gave us so much more than we gave away, and in which we were indeed building hope and proclaiming peace.

---

[1][1] Bloomberg.com, December 11, 2012.

Decorum Est...Not

     I like politics.  I do.  I find the whole thing fascinating, and I am very interested in the leadership of our country, state, and city.  But I'm about over this election.  I don't want to see any more glossy ads asking if I "know what Todd Akin has said now."  I'm sure it is offensive.  But if people are still voting for that guy, they obviously don't care what he says.  Maybe if he burned a flag or offered to raise taxes on billionaires--that might get their attention.  Another round of sexist statements just means it's Tuesday.

     I watched the debate last night and felt as unconnected to both candidates as I ever have.  Both went on and on about how strong the military would be under their leadership.  Both went on and on about being "tough on Iran."  They'll also be tough on China, the country we love to hate, whose exports keep Walmart in business.  We all hate the trade imbalance with China.  Most of us have homes full of Chinese products.

     I am over the hypocrisy.  I am over the decidedly unChristian values on display from people who profess deep faith in Jesus.  And I am over the coarseness of our rhetoric, especially as it pertains to the president of the United States.

     Last night after the debate, super-conservative talking person Ann Coulter tweeted, "I highly approve of Romney's decision to be kind and gentle to the retard."

     I hesitate to quote that directly, because the final word is highly offensive.  It's a playground word, one that schools are symbolically burying in order to help kids remember not to say it.  And little kids are learning.  Perhaps someday Ann Coulter will attain the enlightened perspective of a typical second grader.

     You cannot say that about anyone.  You must not say that about the President of the United States.  There is still a certain level of decorum and respect owed to the highest office in this land.  If you want to claim any gravitas in speaking about who should be the next president, you might try according a little dignity to the current one.  

     And if you're going to insult him, at least pick something that makes sense.  The president's high level of intelligence is undisputed.  Even people who don't like him grudgingly admit that he is smart.  So along with being a terrible insult to people who struggle with mental and learning disabilities--a word that second graders have learned not to say--your comment was ridiculous. It was a word meant to offend, one which you just grabbed out of your bag of "words no one should say."  The same way the schoolyard bully calls a kid "gay," even though the child's sexuality isn't in question.

     I was already over Ann Coulter.  But I think I'll be glad when November Seventh gets here.  Then I can generally avoid being offended if I stay away from The Learning Channel and Fox News.  Assuming we all vote based on actual research, and not things we see in glossy advertisements or read on Twitter, or Facebook, or somebody's blog.

What's That About?

Saw this bumper sticker the other day.  As I drove past the car, I exclaimed, loudly, "For God's sake!"  Which was rather ironic, I suppose.

I searched the interwebs and read a few explanations about this bumper sticker.  There was a whole conversation on the Austin, Texas Yelp site, which had the flavor of most anonymous internet conversations:

Lovely Lady:  I saw this bumper sticker the other day and wondered what it meant.

Wish it was Friday:  I was wondering that, too.

Big Dog:  I did an extensive search on Google.  There was a lot of BS, but I found this:  "This sticker originated at blah blah munitions company and they are praying for the safety of our snipers.  Those snipers save lots of lives, since they can make surgical strikes."

Fabulous Frank:  That sticker is not very Austin-y.  Give peace a chance, y'all.

Lovely Lady:  Oh, thanks.  I googled too and didn't find a good answer.  You rock, Big Dog!

Big Dog:  Frank, that's the problem with Austin.  We don't allow alternate opinions.

Barry the Welder:  Frank, you are an idiot!

Fabulous Frank:  I was being ironic.

It goes on.  I changed the excellent screen monikers and paraphrased the dialogue, but that captures it pretty well.  There was much more, but I didn't feel like reading to the point where the conversation devolved to pre-verbal grunting.  I no longer read the "Unfettered Letters" section of the Kansas City Star website, because it is simply a depository for hateful discourse, with the occasional salient comment.  I'm not willing to  sort through that much poop hoping for a pony.  There seem to be people with a lot of time on their hands these days--a lot of time, and not much love in their hearts, or at least in their fingertips, which is the problem here, exactly.

We have a multiplicity of opportunities for coarse discourse at our fingertips, and on our bumpers.  I'm not sure what motivates someone to put a bumper sticker on their car that says "God bless our troops...especially our SNIPERS!"  I do know that it is not a benevolent wish for the protection of American soldiers and marines who happen to be snipers.  The punctuation makes that abundantly clear.  This is a "prayer" for those who locate and destroy our "enemies" with precision.  It is a prayer for killing.  One could support it with a biblical argument, but not a gospel argument.  Yeah, I'm Lutheran--I get to make that distinction.  Thanks, Martin Luther!

I do have a few theories on what the motivation for this sort of hateful discourse might be:

Theory #1:  We really do believe that an American life has more value than an Afghan life, or a Pakistani life, or the life of anyone else who might be found in the crosshairs of a sniper's rifle.

Theory #2:  We no longer feel that anyone truly listens to what we say.  So we say it in such a way that it cannot be avoided.  We speak in sweeping generalizations, in shocking language, in profanity--in much the same way that a six-year-old will smack another child just to get attention.  We'll take the negative if we can't get the positive.

Theory #3:  We are becoming an increasingly polarized people who turn to hateful discourse out of anger at our lack of power, or perceived lack of power.

It could be any of those, or something else.  It's likely a hybrid of all three, added to the convenience of sharing our thoughts anonymously, semi-anonymously, or at least at a distance, on so many digital formats these days.  Like this blog, for instance.

So we have a problem and it is perhaps merely attributable to sin and therefore a part of the human condition, but I'm inclined to think there is a solution.  First we have to ask a few questions.  I would pose these:

-->How do we recover peace in our discourse?

-->How do we learn to speak out of love and not anger?

-->And when anger is unavoidable--when there are children going hungry in a prosperous country (or any country, for that matter), when American soldiers and marines are dying for reasons that seem abstract or fictitious, when the gap between rich and poor passes "obscene" and heads for "absurd"--when injustice is the order of the day, and we are obligated by faith and/or reason to speak out, how do we do so in a way that doesn't alienate those who really need to hear our message?

I am increasingly convinced that we need to stop and answer those questions, before we're going to solve much else.

A Briefly Curved-in Jesus

I actually wrote an hour-long presentation under that name, which began with the story of a Gentile woman and Jesus, found in Mark 7 and Matthew 15.  The idea was to talk about welcome in our churches, specifically welcome of LGBTQ folks.  I spent a really long time talking about the passage, though, which is, for me, the most challenging text in the gospels.

In case you don't know the story, here's the brief recap:  Jesus is traveling up in Tyre, a big coastal region on the Mediterranean.  He goes into a house for a little quiet, but he can't get it; a woman follows him in.  She has a daughter with a demon, and she begs Jesus to cast it out.  Important detail:  "Now the woman was a Gentile, of Syrophoenician origin."  (In Matthew she is called a "Canaanite woman," which doesn't change the meaning.)  At first, Jesus refuses to help her, saying “Let the children be fed first, for it is not fair to take the children’s food and throw it to the dogs.”  She responds that even the dogs get to eat the crumbs on the floor. 

There are so many things to say about this story.  There are so many ways to feel about this story.  There are  dozens of ways of reinterpreting the story to save Jesus from his humanness.  I've read them.  Here's one:  the word isn't really "dogs;" it's something more akin to "puppies."  I guess it's a little better to be called a "puppy" than a "dog."  I guess.

So here's what I'm thinking this morning, because I am postmodern enough to know that the space in which I read affects the text:  Jesus is human.  We proclaim that in the Creeds, and we talk about it at Christmastime especially (since our Lord being a "baby" is a little easier to take than him being a "man").  God became flesh and dwelt among us and every once in a while that fleshy human being did or said something dumb.

He wanted to be alone.  He was tired, having been followed through hill and vale and wilderness and lakeshore and into houses and up mountains.  He wanted a moment and he didn't get it and so he whined.  A moment of selfishness.  Been there.  Ooh, I have been there.  A few minutes ago, in fact.

It's a rare moment, and serves as the exception that proves a rule about Jesus, which is that he is not so selfish.  When the disciples wanted to send away the great hordes who followed Jesus so that they could all get something to eat, Jesus caused food to appear for all of them.  Then he got in a boat and crossed the lake, where people commenced to bring all of the sick people to him to be healed.

He healed them, because that's what he did.  He healed everyone who came, and he preached when he was weary to the bone.  He was Jesus, and that's what Jesus did.  He healed the sick and he proclaimed the kingdom and when he had given away his power and his voice, he laid down his life.

He did have a moment, up in Tyre--a very human moment, the sort of moment that people like me have all of the time.  He had a moment and then he bounced out of it and cured a Syrophoenician woman's daughter and doggone it, that's a really good lesson for all of us who give in to the tendency to be what the reformers referred to as incurvatus in se.  That phrase, attributed first to St. Augustine and used by Luther in his commentary on Romans, refers to the human tendency to be "curved in on ourselves," instead of out toward God and our neighbors.  For Augustine, it was a sign of original sin; for Luther, it spoke of our need for God's grace (no, those are not mutually exclusive--very good!).

It is so easy to turn in on ourselves.  It's easy for our needs to overtake the world's.  It's so easy to feel as if our troubles are insurmountable.  It's easy to check out, to crawl into a dark hole of despair and dare our friends and family to pull us out.  Sometimes we need that help, because our despair is chemically induced, and we simply can't manage it.

And sometimes we need to follow Jesus.  Wait...always we need to follow Jesus.  Sometimes we need to follow his example of being incurvatus ex se--curved out from ourselves and toward God and neighbor...even when we're not feeling it.  It might even wrench us away from the tendency to see our troubles as insurmountable, which they rarely are.

I Coined a Word!

When I writes, I pours.

In the course of attending to my blog today, I found that I had five comments awaiting moderation.  One of them was on a post called "How about 'Sortadox'?" in which I was complaining about the need for a name for the folks in between the Pope and Christopher Hitchens.  David Brooks had used the term "quasi-religious" to describe the folks in between; that term is quasi-awful.  So I suggested "sortadox."  And a commenter, one jules the bassist, wrote to say that s/he had Googled "sortadox," and my blog was the first thing that came up.

I just did it, and its still true.  How fun.

Hope and Peace Pastor

So a few things have happened over the past two years--since I last posted on this poor neglected blog.  I'm thinking it's time to fix that...though I've thought that before...

Abiding Peace merged with St. Mark, which already had members from Fountain of Hope, so now we are St. Mark Hope and Peace Lutheran Church. Yes, it's a long name.  We're part of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, which has fewer words but many more syllables.  We kept it to monosyllables as best we could.  So do pronounce the "Hope and Peace."

The world needs more hope and peace.  There is a ferocious cynicism in our public discourse.  Russ Douthat's recent column "Can Liberal Christianity Be Saved?" is a good case-in-point.  Douthat is a conservative, so one would expect him to be critical of "liberal Christianity," by which he means whole denominations like the Episcopal Church (United States) and most certainly the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, my denominational home.  We are fair game, of course, having both (Episcopalians and ELCA Lutherans) made some progressive moves in the past few years, most notably on the issue of gay clergy and same gender unions.

But Douthat is way over the top in declaring that the Episcopal Church has become "flexible to the point of indifference on dogma, friendly to sexual liberation in almost every form, willing to blend Christianity  with other faiths, and eager to downplay theology entirely in favor of secular political causes."  That link will take you to a column in Christianity Today (which describes itself as "a globally minded evangelical magazine").  The article is about concern about Episcopal syncretism, which Christianity Today apparently defines as openness to the possibility of salvation through means other than adherence to Christian doctrine and dogma.  


Read Douthat's column.  He makes some interesting points at the end, about losing our grounding.  I'm not prepared to argue with him on that one, though he overstates once again.  The civil rights movement was able to proclaim Christ while demanding social change.  It's harder to do that today, when that declaration is often considered quaint.  Then read Diana Butler Bass's book Christianity for the Rest of Us, which describes mainline Christian congregations which are thriving, and are also rooted in some traditional practices and a clear understanding of the gospel of Jesus Christ.  Read them all today--you'll thank me.

You might also enjoy the response of Episcopal Rector Matthew Lawrence, provocatively titled "Russ Douthat Is a Fruit Fly."  He links a great response that Butler Bass has provided.  Go to his to get to hers.  That's the way this thing works.

Hope!  Peace!

Writing Something

My blog needs updating. My girlfriend told me, and I know she's right, not that I received her right-ness with appropriate grace and gratitude.

So I do need to write something and maybe I'll write about writing. Specifically that we ought to all be doing more of it, since it's really suffering. I love all the great social media out there, and texting, and the other opportunities creeping up--opportunities to mangle the English language and send grammar to an early grave. Really I do.

But I had to give up Twitter, since 140 characters means writing "u" when you mean "you." And using numbers as words. I've tried it out when texting (since you only get 160 there). Doesn't really work for me.

I think we should all try our hands at formal writing, by which I mean writing that uses letters only. If you need to write about numbers over ten, then you can use numerals. But otherwise, letters. And complete sentences, though they can be fragments, if you know what you're doing. Seriously. Fragments are an appropriate way to indicate emphasis. Really. They are not not not an appropriate way to communicate generally in written discourse.

So that's what I think. I think we should all write more. Except for Ann Coulter and Jonah Goldberg. They should write less. Maybe just on Twitter.

Gay protest signs (funny)

The Joy of Candidacy, Part Three

I am a candidate for ordained ministry again. It's an odd place to be, since I've been an ordained minister for nearly a decade.

But the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America has declared itself open to receiving lesbian and gay candidates in Publicly Accountable, Lifelong, Mutual Same-gender relationships (PALMS) on its roster, so I am a candidate once again.

Which means going through candidacy again. For the third time.

Yay.

The first two times weren't bad, really. I had a really terrific candidacy team in the Sierra-Pacific Synod (the northern halves of California and Nevada). They wanted me to be approved, even to the point of tacitly encouraging me to bend the truth in order to do so. And they were loving and kind when I stubbornly refused to play the "I'm in compliance right now (here in this office)" game. ("Now available from Hasbro! Hasbro, for all of your integrity-compromising needs.")

The second trip through candidacy was with the Extraordinary Candidacy Project, which accepted all of my ELCA paperwork (and kept copies of it all, which has turned out to be a Godsend). I also had to write an essay about how my sexuality would influence my ministry, which felt like one of those "you need to do something special for us so here it is" requirements. But I wrote it and I'm sure I'll come across it any time now and enjoy reading it again. Or laugh. Laughing is a distinct possibility.

ECP is now Extraordinary Lutheran Ministries, and it will always be my primary home. Were it not for the pioneers of this movement, dozens of us would have been left out in the cold, like so many of our sisters and brothers in other denominations. I am proud to be "extraordinarily ordained," and grateful as hell to all those who worked so hard to pry open the doors to ministry.

The ELCA's doors are sort of open now, though I am not steeled for bureaucracy as I should be, having been sheltered by ECP-then-ELM all of these years. The institutional church is a whole different animal.

Case in point: Since it has been (just) over ten years since I was postponed by an ELCA candidacy committee, it appears that the Synod has shredded my paperwork. They can't find my file, and think it has been "disposed."

Ouch. Since I was postponed, I assumed that they would hold my file open. Or at least check in before chucking it.

First rule of interfacing with bureaucratic institutions: Never assume.

ELM, my one true love, has my paperwork. Most of it, anyway. They kept it in a fireproof vault, and have already sent a copy to my new Synod. I'm searching through old floppy disks for my approval essays. Have found two of the four. I think the other two are on the hard drive of the office computer at my internship site. A computer which has surely been discarded long ago.

So the search for hard copies commences.

Breaking News: Conference of Bushes to Decide Fate of Pines

For immediate release.

Chicago, IL, USA. The Conference of Bushes of the largest denomination of trees in the U.S. will meet this month in Chicago to weigh in on a procedure to receive pines to its Roster of Ordered Timbers.

The rules and procedures of Every Leaf Counts in America (ELCA) have long denied pine trees leadership roles, although the evergreens have been allowed to participate in the laitree. "We welcome pines to full participation in the life cycle of the ELCA," declares a letter from the Conference of Bushes written in 1993.

According to the earliest botanical manuscripts, especially the authoritative Historia Plantarum by Theophrastus, pines are considered needle-bearers rather than leaf-bearers. This distinction has long been understood as an unsurmountable barrier to coniferous service on the ELCA Roster of Ordained Timbers.

"The taxonomy is simple. The Botany is very clear about this," says Roy Oaken, president of Leaves Alone, a splinter group promoting leaf purity within the denomination. "Pines do not produce fruit. They are unable to make nuts. The Botany declares that we should 'be fruitful and multiply.' Pines do that, but not in a normal way, and we don't want our saplings learning about that or being told that it is okay. Our roots have grown a certain way for thousands of years, and we simply will not change our roots because the larger plant kingdom is suddenly more accepting of pines."

[Broadcasting note: In a departure from standard usage, the last two letters of Leaves are accented. Proper pronounciation of the organizational name is "Leave-us Alone."]

In August of 2009, members of the ELCA met in Assembly in Minnesota, one of the most densely forested states in the country, considered a sort of "tree Mecca." Two thirds of the trees at the Assembly were from the laitree, with the remaining voters perennials from the Roster of Ordered Timbers and the Conference of Bushes. The Conference of Bushes is made up of elected representatives of each of the sixty-five regional synods of the ELCA (including Sumac-Zion, a non-geographical synod). Bushes enjoy higher status in the denomination by virtue of being closer to the ground.

The Assembly voted to alter its traditional practice and allow certain parks and woods to accept pines as Ordered Timbers. No ecosystem that did not wish to have pines in leadership roles would be forced to do so. Still, for those evergreens which have been standing up against their exclusion from leadership, the decision was monumental.

"This is the day we've awaited for so long," said Ash Virginia Pine, director of Even the Leafless Matter (ELM), which rosters conifers unwilling to adopt counterfeit leaves in order to be accepted on the Roster of Ordered Timbers. "Our trees are just like the other trees serving in leadership positions across our forests. Science has shown that needles are, in fact, the same as leaves. They just look a little different and are a lot stronger. We actually consider our pines to be pretty special, and to have a particular role to play in the larger society. Think about it: across the country there are pines in millions of living rooms at Christmastime. The plant kingdom--indeed the whole world--is moving toward acceptance of pines. It is time for the ELCA to grow taller and accept our unique gifts."

Though the vote took place back in August, a plan to actually receive pines barred from the Roster has been slow to germinate. The plan will require layers of fertilizer from several constituencies across the denomination, including the Department of Vocation and Ecosystems, the Forest Council, and the Conference of Bushes.

The Conference of Bushes meets March 4-9 to look at a proposal for including ELM trees on the Roster of Ordered Timbers. ELM members are hopeful that the proposal will not include a rite of re-ordering, which would be tantamount to being torn up by the roots.

Rick Steves: Travel Guru, Lutheran, Pot Smoker

I love that one man is all three of those things. I love Rick Steves. And I love that he is brave enough to say what very few Lutherans would ever say outside of their homes, let alone to a Christian Century reporter--that he smokes pot.

I don't mean to suggest that smoking pot is something of which one ought be proud. Neither should one be proud to be a drinker or a television watcher. All of those drugs cause a lot of problems in our world. And the majority of users of alcohol, television, and yes, marijuana, are not harming themselves or others.

I don't smoke pot. I have, and I didn't like it. I quit when I was fifteen, to the chagrin of my stoner friends, who would occasionally try to saddle me with a contact high by blowing a "power hitter" in my face. Yeah, I probably should have found some different friends, but we moved to California just as I started high school, and the stoners are the most permeable membrane in high school culture. That's my 'scuse, and I'm stickin' with it.

I don't smoke pot, but I'm not all that concerned about most of the people who do. Alcohol creates many more problems in our lives, our families and our society, and I've never been able to figure out why it's legal and pot is not.

In fact, legalizing marijuana could actually solve a few problems, like the myriad issues of an illegal drug trade, the funding of dangerous cartels in Mexico and Central America, and the overcrowding of our jails. Let's concentrate on the drugs which are truly dangerous, and on those who abuse marijuana...oh, and alcohol, while we're at it.

Rick Steves said that out loud to Christian Century magazine. That is wicked, dude.

First the Train Left the Station. Now It Has Left the Tracks

I'm so sad about Massachusetts; all I can do is write. Maybe this isn't the end (cue very psychedelic Doors song). Maybe we'll still get a health care bill that's worth a darn. But this morning I'm afraid that all that work has been in vain again, and I just can't believe that this desperately needed reform was derailed by:

1. Martha Coakely not knowing who Curt Shilling is. C'mon Boston--I know you love your teams, but c'mon!

2. A lawyer who once did a Cosmo centerfold posing as "Everyman."

3. The Washington bubble.

4. The ability of Glenn Beck and Rush Limbaugh to convince people that they don't need something they really do need. And to further convince them that the message that they need it is some kind of plot to hurt them.

5. People who already have universal health care deciding that the rest of the country doesn't need it.

Is Grease Really the Word?

I was on call tonight, and didn't have to go in. Since it has been snowing (again!) all afternoon, that was a wonderful gift.

In an embarrassment of riches, VH1 is showing "Movies that rock!" and tonight's is Grease. I saw Grease three times in the movie theater--at a time when I could hardly afford to see a movie once. Even if it was a buck fifty.

Grease is a sausage movie. Don't think too hard about it, and don't look too close. Just enjoy it. Yes, Olivia Newton John is in high school. Yes, that car got itself built and painted. Yes, all of these improbable love stories, including the one between the greaser and the uber-naive Australian virgin, will work out. I love this movie, because it enables me to suspend disbelief and believe that it all works out in the end, no matter how crazy mucked up it is all the way through.

It also takes me back to a time when I thought everything was simple that way. Before I realized that I didn't admire Rizzo--I was crushing on her. And Stormy Ruecastle (with whom I took the bus every morning in fifth and seventh grade--Stormy was a year ahead of me in school and she and her best friend Rene were the coolest girls ever. On the planet, I mean.) It was a simpler time.

And Grease was the word, which really sums up the whole thing, don't you think?

Would Jesus Withhold Mission Support?

That's always a good question, right? What would Jesus do?

Some of those who stand in great certitude about what Jesus would do are withholding their money from their ELCA congregations. Whole congregations are withholding mission support from the ELCA churchwide organization.

Forty-five people lost their jobs at churchwide, in part as a result of this withheld support. Budget cuts are more complex, of course--it's a bad economy and we continue to decline overall.

But a whole bunch of those people lost their jobs because of financial blackmail. Maybe that's harsh, but I don't think so, and if it is, then it is deservedly harsh. Our congregation disagreed with decisions made by churchwide for years, and never once voted to withhold funds. We would have considered it unjust. I would have considered it immoral. A good portion of the money that goes to churchwide funds disaster response, water programs in the 2/3 world, the ELCA World Hunger Appeal.

If we're going to call ourselves members of the ELCA, then we should commit to the organization, and that means supporting it with our dollars. It's no different than being the member of a congregation. If you commit to the organization, you are expected to support it. That's part of the commitment.

So, congregations withholding your money: please stop. Or withdraw altogether, as would be more honest and fair.

Money is a tool and we should definitely allow our values to direct our spending. But just as I don't shop at Walmart, I don't park in their parking lot, either.

Are We "Post-label"? Should We Be?

I was part of a panel yesterday at St. Paul School of Theology here in Kansas City. The panel was sponsored by Sacred Worth, a group at the seminary which supports and celebrates its LGBT students, most of whom are closeted because they are on the ordination track of the United Methodist Church, and there's no Extraordinary Methodist Ministries and someone should really start one...but that's another post.

At the forum, a topic was raised which has been rolling around in my head for a while now. A young man I know and like very much asked how welcoming churches ensure that their LGBT members are known for more than being LGBT. The responses from panel members then went mostly to the "labels are so not helpful" place.

I see where that thinking arises, and I understand it. It would be great if we lived in a world in which all were loved and valued equally, and perhaps the need to name ourselves by gender, sexual orientation, affinity, political persuasion, etc. is simply perpetuating the divisions in our society. Maybe if we stopped using labels we would stop needing them. "We borrow our authority from the future" is the way that Pastor Jeff Johnson--one of the deans of LGBT inclusion in the Lutheran church--has put it.

I see that thinking, but I raise you this: we don't live in that world of peace and harmony and equal value. We live in a culture which still privileges straight over gay, white over black (brown, yellow). We live in a world in which women are still paid significantly less for doing the same work as men and are denied opportunities in nearly every field. And as long as we live in that world, I think it is important to name those inequalities, and to claim our wholeness as black people, gay people, transgender people, women, Latino/a/s, queers, radicals and youth. If I left you out, please name and claim yourself.

Not naming ourselves doesn't keep us from being what we are. Not naming ourselves doesn't alter the field of disproportionate allocation of resources upon which we play. In fact, here's my big fear: when we do not name those who are pushed to the margins, we will default to privilege. When we do not have Black History Month, we'll continue to celebrate White History Month. Every month. And yes, that still makes the "score" eleven to one, and that's a big problem. But it's a start.

What do you all think? Are labels not helpful? Is there a way to usher in a new world without them? Or do you need to be named for exactly who and what you are?

Writer's BLOCK

Yeah, I actually do mean to have "BLOCK" in capital letters, even though that is the online equivalent of shouting. I'm having one of those days when I feel like shouting, mainly because I can't seem to write and I need to write because on Sunday I have to preach just like almost every Sunday and yes, that does get to be a little creatively challenging. Or it gets to be challenging to my creativity--that's more correct.

I'm thinking I'll write here and maybe that will help me write there.

So there was this guy Martin Luther and he had a hammer. He hammered in the mo-or-nin'. At least, I assume he used a hammer and the Peter, Paul and Mary reference works better if he did.

He had a hammer and he thought of ninety-five ways to say "The church is in error and the pope is a bad man and indulgences suck." A bit of an over-writer, Luther. Much different from an underwriter, which is someone who tries to deny you insurance.

Luther wasn't about denying. He was about affirming--affirming the relationship between people and a loving God who also wasn't about denying. The church had begun to proclaim a god (yes, I also meant the small "g") who was capricious enough to send folks to some mythical joint called purgatory until their families ponied up enough money to get them sprung. Because apparently this god was deeply invested in how many cathedrals could be built in his name (definitely meant "his").

That reminds me...so I was reading the Word Alone Network News. (I'd link Word Alone, but I love you, gentle readers, so I don't want you going there. And besides, you all know how to work Google.) Word Alone is a conservative Lutheran organization dedicated to the idea that we must so fear and love God that we should follow scripture exactly as written (in Leviticus 18 and the other 4 passages, that is, but not the rest of Leviticus except where convenient and not Mark 9 where Jesus offers some really clear teaching about divorce). So the recently divorced president of the Word Alone Network is writing about the outcome of the Churchwide Assembly, and she was writing about this guy named God who didn't look familiar to me at all.

Is there more than one? We do seem to act that way sometimes. I'm not really claiming to be right here (though I do think that I am). I'm just sad that we can just all get along and we went through the Reformation over whether God saves us by grace or because we're good and we are still busy telling each other to be good and ignoring the plank in our own eyes.

And I'm no closer to a sermon now but maybe just a little and I meant to write that contradiction in the last sentence of this post.

Not a Vagabond Any Longer

I seem to have bought a house. It's not totally final yet, but things are looking good. So I have answered my beloved's request to take "vagabond" out of my little subtitle/descriptor/bio thingy at the top of the page.

It's late and I'm tired, but also wanted to say this. Barack Obama makes me proud to be an American. I don't love everything he's done, but he is a good man and he's doing as good a job as anyone could do right now. I think.

Oh, and I still love my Wolverines and those really awful Chiefs. These are the times that try fans' souls...

CWA: What Does This Mean?

I've been asked a lot over the past week what the decisions made at Churchwide would mean for myself and my congregation. It's kind of funny, really, that after all of these years of praying, begging, cajoling and demonstrating, the answer is actually "not a whole lot."

Oh, and also, "a whole lot." Great Lutheran paradox, that.

My congregation already has a pastor in a "same gender, life-long, monogamous, publicly accountable relationship." Okay, I'm fudging "publicly accountable" a little, since we are waiting until we live in the same state to take the ELCA up on its support of our getting married (they'd never say "married," but I can. Married married married. That's what they voted on and they know it.).

Our congregation is under censure by our Synod (the regional body--in this case Missouri and Kansas). Under the terms of our censure, we're not allowed to serve on committees of the synod or churchwide expressions. Which does leave us feeling a little cut off, and provides a great excuse to stop paying benevolence to the Synod--which I'm proud to say we have not done. We have done our best to stay in relationship with the larger church, and I'd say it has been mainly mutual. Bishop Mansholt has been expecially gracious in extending a hand of friendship to Abiding Peace.

But being under censure for eight years kind of sucks, and we'll be glad to have it lifted.

And I will be glad to stop suffering the little indignities that arise so often, especially around the first weekend in June, when the whole Synod meets in Assembly. I'll be glad to receive mail from the larger church addressed to "Rev. Donna Simon." I've been ordained almost nine years; I think it would be nice to be addressed properly. Someone in the Synod office actually works overtime making sure that I know that he or she doesn't recognize my ordination. I get mail addressed to "Ms. Donna Simon." If you left off the "Ms.," I'd just think you weren't using titles, and blow it off. But "Ms." says what it is intended to say: "This is the best you're going to get from us."

We submitted a resolution to the Synod Assembly this year, signed by over a hundred people. When it appeared in the Assembly notebook, I notice that my name was one space off of the line at the left margin. This was because they had deleted "Rev." from in front of my name, and hadn't gotten it pulled all the way back to the margin.

Little indignities. Sitting in the back. Not having a title. Sometimes not even having a name. I saw a dear friend, Pastor Karen Parker, at Churchwide. We had a class together while I was in seminary--a writing class with Brian Wren--go ahead and be jealous, those who know who Brian Wren is. I have seen Karen around the church over the years, and it was so nice to see her. We were chatting and she asked for my email address, which I started to give her. Then she said, "Oh, I'll just look you up in the Directory. I raised an eyebrow and she quickly realized why. "I guess I can't do that," she said. "Soon," I said, and we both smiled.

It will be nice to be in the Directory. It will be nice to maybe even get to help lead worship sometime at a Synod Assembly. Other than those things, not much changes for me. I'm already called as an out pastor, and I am committed to seeing our church grow and flourish.

I love that the opportunities for call will come to others, though. I love that I can say I'm proud of one of the churches which is extending a true hand of love and hospitality to God's lesbian, bisexual, transgender, and gay children.

What does this mean? All are welcome in this place.

CWA Wrapup, Very Brief

We will call and ordain lesbian and gay persons. We will bless same-sex unions.

More work is needed, as we are still allowing a lot of opting out on both of these.

But for now, we dance.