Prayer request (because it's too important to not ask)

I ask your prayers for a friend and his family tonight. Two months ago my friend's father went missing, and it is now apparent that it was suicide. Please pray for the deceased, my friend and his family, and also pray for those in pain and despair who are contemplating taking their own lives.

The unexpected date

So a personal update:

Apparently I've been dating and only realized it lately. I guess I was waiting for the word 'date' to pop up for it to be official.

We'd been introduced by a mutual friend, and we got together for dinner and a movie. Admittedly sounds like a date (and was followed by going to the park to watch the stars), but it's nothing I wouldn't do with friends, too. It felt a smidge ambiguous, and I didn't want to assume things.

Last night was our third date, and he used the word 'date.' I guess it was confirmation of what I'd been suspecting all along; felt like a date, looked like a date, probably was a date. I'm a little too analytical sometimes, though, so I didn't want to put a word on it that wasn't right. Even though I wasn't sure about the word, I went along with the flow because it felt good and nice. Sure, the word changes some things, but it also doesn't change the substance. I guess it's my Zen experience talking; sometimes naming something or analyzing it gets in the way of living it (definitely true!).

What gets me is how, well, unexpected it was. I wasn't really looking. I didn't meet him with that expectation. I wasn't prepared at all.

He's also moving away in a little while.

This fits into no one's five year plan.

But I don't much care right now. It's OK to let things be, to enjoy life as it unfolds in the present moment.

Progress in Idaho / Ending the silence

Last night was a local PFLAG meeting, and I finally decided that I should go. It's important (especially in this town where gays) to know some supportive people.

I finally saw pictures of the PFLAG chapter's float in the Fourth of July parade, and I was astonished to see how good it was! They spent a long, long time doing paper-mache to build a bright little scene of a child, flowers and a dog. This perfectly fit the parade's theme of "Through the eyes of a child." I was proud that they marched in the parade, and from what I hear they got a lot of praises for being so joyful and fun. (incidentally, the "Tea party" people had a float of the tree of liberty with an ax next to it reading 'Obama,' and they've been criticized from all corners for an overtly and excessively political float and for not even caring about the parade's theme)

I can't imagine PFLAG doing a float when I was in high school. But now they're pretty out and proud! And two students from my high school were there to talk to us about their Gay-Straight Alliance. I'm so proud of them for that! I can't imagine that it's easy for them, but it's a definite start.

The hardest part of being LGBT in a community like this is the silence. The silence about lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgendered folk is incredibly powerful because it takes away information. When I'm talking information, I mean something more than just facts. When no one's talking about LGBT folk, then we LGBT folk and our allies don't know who to trust. We won't know who is supportive of us, who disagrees with us but still care, and who would do us harm. When you're not sure how someone would react, then there's this impulse to hide our information, too. If I'm not sure how you stand on gay people, then I will probably be inclined to withhold that information about myself until I know. We all want to be safe and loved.

When this silence on LGBT issues is community-wide, though, then it also isolates. In order to have a meaningful conversation on LGBT issues, you have to take a side. You can't hide your cards and wait for someone else to reveal their position. Unless someone is willing to come out in support, then the default option seems to be to assume that others are against you. You assume that their love is conditional on you not being gay, so you don't risk losing it. It hurts a lot and it isolates.

Given that my home state has the third highest teen suicide rate in the nation, I can only assume that a significant portion of those are from LGBT youth who feel alone and scared for their futures. If you don't know you are loved for being LGBT, then it feels like you're living a lie. If people aren't open about their support and love, then LGBT youth are left feeling that they're "broken," "sick," or "sinful." That can only go on so long before it deals horrible damage. Silence really is death; if not physical death, then definitely emotional and spiritual death.

Ending the silence here in Idaho will be a great blessing, and God is blessing Idaho through the work of PFLAG and the Gay-Straight Alliance.

Family Duties

For anyone who knows me personally, my parents and I have a good relationship. We're very close and get along very well. Part of it, I think, is the fact that my parents are pretty reserved, quiet people, so I learned how to be happy at home.

That same relationship does not exist between other parts of the family, though. My father's side of the family is not quite as close emotionally, yet there is a strong sense of family obligations. What I mean is that, for example, my dad is not that close to his father, yet my dad does everything to help him out (who, honestly, should be in some kind of assisted living facility). My dad used to put our family plans on hold so that he could do whatever his father asked of him. My dad is pretty much the exemplar of what the "dutiful son" should be.

Except that that's not what a dutiful son should be. He used to sacrifice his relationships with his sons and wife in order to do what his father asked of him. There's a good reason Jesus talked about the whole "a man shall leave his father and mother and be joined to his wife" (Mark 10:7). There is a separation that marriage (and adulthood) implies. My dad's parents acted like a horrible boss who would demand that the worker stay until late and work weekends at the boss' whim. My dad's learned how he's not nearly as responsible for his parents as he has thought he was; he's still a good, dutiful son if he tells his father, "No, I'm not doing that for you." Even if it means that it's left undone. He is not responsible for everything.

However, my dad still has obligations for his father. Too frequently we would want to write off "the old man" and put him in a nursing home to get rid of him, visiting him just once in a while to avoid feeling guilty. Now, putting someone in a nursing facility who honestly needs it is fine enough, but sometimes we get this idea that anything that messes with our happiness must be gotten rid of. Just because my dad is not bound to do everything his father demands does not mean that he's free of all responsibility.

Then we have to figure out exactly what those duties are. What is my dad responsible for?

In fact, what are our family obligations? What do we owe our relatives? Our spouse? Our kids? Our parents?

Is there anything special about families (now I'm talking about both extended and nuclear families) that requires us to do more for them than we'd do for others? Now, I think we all agree that parents/guardians have a special obligation for their children for nurturing and making sure the children have their physical, emotional and social needs met while children have a special obligation for listening to their parents and learning to do what is right. I'm sure there are a few others that I'm leaving out. Beyond that, though, is there something specific about family bonds that requires greater obligations?

For example, if I'm an adult and I have a mother who I'm not that close to living in Georgia who has friends there and a church home, who has greater duties: me or her friends? Is it because of blood or is it because of friendship? Is it by physical nearness or something else?

Or maybe a different scenario: I'm a lifelong member of a church and one member of the congregation's elderly. Now he'd been almost an uncle to me all my life- there for me when I couldn't talk to my parents and there for me in times of celebration and sadness. But now he's in declining health. Is there some duty in the bonds of affection that the bond of baptism doesn't give?

Or to put it another way: what bond does family create that isn't given in baptism? What duties do we have for parents, friends, and strangers, and what duties are required just because of baptism?

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And I promised that I would eventually put up pictures of something. Here you go!

This is a bowl of petunias. That is my handprint down in the corner, too. Scary to think it was made 15 years ago!

Pink flamingos! Those adorable, pink, plastic lawn ornaments.

Prayer flags blowing in the wind before a nice little storm.

Building a Gay Community

Last night a gay and bisexual men's group operating out of a local university hosted their monthly coffee night here in my hometown of Idaho Falls. Because of the university and a gay bar, Pocatello naturally has a stronger and more visible gay community. Idaho Falls is much more conservative town even though it is roughly the same size as Pocatello, so, unless you know people already in the community, it would be hard to find a visible gay community here.

It's a blessing that the group has coffee night once a month here because Idaho Falls needs a stronger and healthier gay community, and it needs something that will reflect the character of Idaho Falls.

When I was in Atkinson, Nebraska visiting a gay friend who's a priest, he lamented the breakdown of institutions like gay bars. With the rise of the internet it's become easier to network but frequently it's done anonymously. He told me stories about men who were known to be gay in their communities but instead chose to live a lie and hide it. Being secretive may seem safe, but it attacks our ability to trust one another and really be ourselves.

It is incredibly easy not to risk being "out," but that comes at the cost of wholeness. Sexuality is set apart and compartmentalized in unhealthy ways. I understand the concern; I.F. is not known for being accepting of anything that isn't Mormon/white/straight/Republican. Hiding in the closet only to emerge for unhealthy expressions of sexuality, though, is not the answer. It is spiritually, emotionally and mentally harmful.

Building a gay community here in I.F. (and by extension the northern part of the Snake River Valley) will be a hard task, but it could have great results. And what's more important is that it will be authentically Idaho Falls and authentically gay. There are parts of gay culture I don't agree with or support, and some of it I just don't participate in because it doesn't resonate with me. Part of it, I'm sure, is the effect of living in Idaho Falls. That's fine; not everyone needs to be like me.

So a gay community here in Idaho Falls is about building something that is healthy and is rooted in the people here. It recognizes who we are and both challenges us to be proudly and happily gay while at the same time meets us where we are.

In a way it's like the Anglican tradition of Christianity (see? I was gonna fit religion in here somewhere). Anglicans see Christianity as not a "one size fits all" way of relating to God. There are so many different ways we worship God and different ways we talk about God and different ways we live out that relationship with God. In all the differences, though, there is the same Gospel, the same Lord, and the same Baptism. The seed of the Gospel is nourished by the ground it is rooted in, but, if it is faithful to God and the Gospel, the differences help the Gospel make sense to different people. So we need to build a gay community here that reflects the character of Idaho Falls (and not San Francisco, not Salt Lake City, not Omaha). At the risk of generalizing, though, there will still be something that unites all of us gays.

The similarity doesn't end there, either. Being gay and being Christian both require living openly even in the face of risk. It's not much a choice but a calling. The visibility of the church and the visibility of the gay community should be signs of the goodness of those communities. Not debauchery, not judgmentalism, not passivity, not hypocrisy, not vanity. Being known as a Christian or being known as gay can be risky, but I'd rather take the risk for the truth instead of hurting myself and others with secrecy.

So in the tradition of Stonewall, I'm proud to be who I am: gay, Christian, Idahoan. Thanks be to God for calling us to a life abundant!

Procession in the nursing home

Today I accompanied a parishioner on a visit to a local nursing facility to assist with the "Protestant Worship Service" (part of me cringes, 'cause we Episcopalians are Catholic, too!).

Conducting a worship service for a nursing home is a challenge, I can tell. Making a service appeal firstly to a broad group of people is hard; Lutherans, Methodists, Presbyterians and Episcopalians have different worship styles. And secondly, making a service meaningful to people who, to say it kindly, aren't in the greatest shape physically or mentally and still challenge and encourage them with the Gospel is hard, too. I'm glad to see so many make the effort to include all our brothers and sisters in Christ in the worship of the church.

I don't have some surprising or startling insight to share, though. There's just an image I thought I'd share.

After the service, we helped wheel the nursing home residents to the dining room for dinner. As we slowly took people one by one, the pianist kept playing. I'd hear faint notes of a hymn down the hallway as I escorted someone to dinner. The music didn't stop until everyone had been taken down to the dining room.

The image was like that of a procession out- everyone was parading out of the chapel to go do the work given to them, even if they were being taken in a wheelchair. The grace was apparent- even if for just half an hour, Christ was really present and Christ was being taken out into the world.

Grief and Guilt

Today was the funeral for a beloved member of my parish in Idaho. Because I've been bouncing around due to college and my internship, I haven't had the greatest opportunity to sit down and get to know the people here.

From my time in Omaha and now here, it feels incredibly odd to be around those grieving when you're not racked by the same feelings. For me there's been a feeling of guilt; I feel guilty because I'm not suffering like everyone else and guilty that I'm present for a funeral even though I didn't know the man nearly as well as everyone else present.

There's a significant emotional distance between me and those grieving. I don't have wonderful stories to remember about the deceased. I can't share the pain of loss even though I can offer my ears and heart for listening. I can offer my prayers and sympathies but I can't take the pain away. If I were suffering like them then at least we could feel some kind of comfort in our shared pain, but even then there's nothing I can do to make the pain go away.

As I sat and thought about this, I realized why the idea of God becoming human in Christ was just so important. God, with a heart of perfect love, stands with creation, watching all sorts of pain and misery. God watches as death claims those we love, God watches as human beings destroy one another and creation itself, and God wants us to know that there is immense love for us burning within the divine heart.

But our pain, our grief, our suffering is tied to our mortality and our humanity. Might God have felt some guilt for being so close to us and yet so far away? I don't know, but God became human so that God could truly feel human pain. God had to become a mortal and limited human being to cross that emotional distance.

Our pain and suffering, then, are not a barrier to God's love and understanding. God, who knows and loves us more than any other could possibly love us, is fully present with us in the midst of our pain as someone who suffers with us.

And as for me, my own experience of grief and loss should enable me to be better present to those mourning the loss of their friend, husband and father today. I do not know what pain they are going through, but our union in the body of Christ and our shared humanity might just be enough to make present the immense love of God.