Keep coming out*

We keep coming out. I don’t know how many times I’ve heard that and thought that but I know it’s constantly true. Coming out is a life long process. The deeper we get into life, the more revelations we discover, the more we keep coming out.

I only remember some of my pre-out life. Although I remember clearly the moment I knew I had to come out, I don’t remember being so much closeted before that as confused. When I grew up there was no “gay.” There were no mature gay people to whom I could look for role models; or at least, if there were, they were unknown to me. I knew I was interested in other boys in a very deep way from the very first, but I never understood that that was somehow different from the way other boys felt, or that it was very much the way most of them felt about girls. And when I dated girls and went through all of the “normal” phases, I had no way to know that the lovely friendships we developed were not the norm. Until one day, at about age 24, I knew. It hit me like a ton of bricks. And I knew I had to come out. I was pretty decisive about it too. I did my research, which was more difficult in those pre-Internet days. I remember going to my first adult book store and feeling like I’d discovered gold. In those days there were several gay newspapers, notably The Advocate, and I bought several such things and devoured them. They had advertisements for books that I ordered and those I spent hours with as well.

The hard part was figuring out what to do. As it happened, I didn’t need to worry too much about that. One day I was talking to a guy I barely knew at work and I just blurted it out and he laughed and said “let’s get coffee.” The rest was history, as they say.

I don’t know, of course, what anybody else’s story is like. I know that I have had the impression that today’s younger generations are better informed and more likely to know early on what’s happening. But somehow I suspect that ton of bricks is a pretty common experience. It is like a rebirth, or an awakening, a realization of what is right that takes your breath away. And it is a moment in which freedom is born in your soul.

In Galatians 5 Paul writes about freedom; he says “for freedom Christ has set us free.” He means, of course, that in Christ all of God’s children are set free from the burdens of the Old Testament law; he even says (14) “For the whole law is summed up in a single commandment, ‘You shall love your neighbor as yourself.'” But he also says “don’t be self-indulgent” and later “don’t devour each other.” He means, freedom means standing firm, being decisive, knowing your own truth, and being decisively people of the Gospel. Being people of the Gospel means loving your neighbor as yourself. But in order to do that you have to love yourself. In order to love yourself you have to know yourself. Realizing Gospel freedom is born in telling yourself the truth about yourself. And that must lead, in my experience, to the life-giving decision to come out, to be the lgbt people God created us to be.

There is more of course, because freedom is not freedom from responsibility or community. Being free means living into the world God created us to inhabit, the kingdom of heaven, which as Jesus always tells us, is already here, if only we can see it.

Today will see the gay pride parade in New York City which has become a sort of international beacon of light for the lgbt community. Millions who are out will parade, or gather to watch the parade, or see it later via media. Millions more, who are not yet out also will be there, maybe a bit farther back on the sidewalk or down the street or watching from a venue along the route. For them, it is important that we keep coming out, keep being role models, keep showing the world who God made us to be.

When pride celebrations are over and the doldrums descend, we have to keep coming out in our communities, by which I mean every place we inhabit. The carnage in Orlando is just more evidence that we have to take our freedom as God’s lgbt people seriously. And in a quiet moment today we should take time to remember those gunned down that night. And while we’re at it we should remember all of our comrades who passed during the AIDS pandemic.

Then celebrate the freedom God has given us to live lgbt lives, celebrate your pride in who you are. Keep coming out.

©2016 The Rev. Dr. Richard P. Smiraglia. All rights reserved.

*Proper 8 (2 Kings 2:1-2, 6-14; Psalm 77:1-2, 11-20; Galatians 5:1,13-25; Luke 9:51-62)

Keep going*

For may of us, our hearts are broken by the carnage in Orlando last weekend. As the news began to penetrate my consciousness I thought of the irony that I had just written about wanting the security of being in a gay venue. Well, it wasn’t so safe that time, was it? Grief often leads to anger, and I’m guilty of that as well. All week long we’ve been deluged with stories of how the killer was well known to law enforcement, even reported once when trying to arm himself, and everyone kept asking why he wasn’t stopped. And we who are lgbt people know the answer, don’t we? It was because it was us, wasn’t it?

One of my friends has changed her Facebook picture to this image of a fragmented broken rainbow heart. (I’m sorry I can’t properly identify it. The image is linked to something called Vanne Perry on We heart it dot com, where it also is linked to Kara Davis Rainbows; but all of them are on Pinterest and before I can get a proper attribution Pinterest pops up an obnoxious demand that I sign up for something.)

See, I told you I was angry.

I thought the image, and its metaphor, that we are broken but still together, was appropriate. So I hope it’s okay I borrowed it here.

Rant over. Here’s the sermon I preached this morning.

******************

Last week was, to say the least, a remarkable week. It seemed we reeled from tragedy to oddity, from moment to moment, day to day. I was reminded of the queen of England’s famous speech about her annus horribilis. I wanted to figure out how to say “horrible week” in Latin so I Googled it— what do you know, it was right there, apparently lots of people had the same idea. It was septimana horribilis— literally a horrible seven days.

And so it is fitting, I guess, that we have a long story about Elijah, God’s prophet, on the verge of giving up. Elijah, you see, is God’s prophet and that is not an easy job. It means mostly just being present and doing the right things and saying the right things and hoping God’s people will catch on. But of course Elijah has done much more. He has shown them the way to righteousness. He has healed them. He has taught them justice. And now, his thanks are, that his own life has been threatened. So he “was afraid; he got up and fled for his life” it says. And he prayed something along the lines of: “I’ve had enough now. I quit”

Sometimes we just have had enough. Sometimes we just want to give up. It is understandable. But it turns out it is not so easy to do. Life goes on despite us. The sun comes up, the neighbors mow the lawn, the village digs up streets, and the politicians keep carrying on. Life goes on, and we have to go on too. You might be expecting me to say something about God’s plan, but as much as we want to think that is how things work it just is not. I call that puppet theology; God is not running us like a giant puppeteer in the sky pulling our strings. God’s plan is for harmony, for connectedness, for eternity. God’s plan is for all things to work together in perfect unity. When things go wrong that is not God’s plan, it is human intervention. What God wants from us, is to get up, keep going, and stay plugged in. It is best for us to stay plugged in, to stay in the current of God’s universe. And, it is best for God’s kingdom too.

In that story it tells us Elijah, when he got done feeling sorry for himself, fell asleep. Now, he was all alone in the wilderness. It was probably pretty nice, all quiet and secure … but he suddenly was awakened; it says an angel touched him (but it was really God) and said “get up and eat.” And wow, there on the rock he was sleeping beside, was a cake and some water. In fact, it happened twice, that God touched him, woke him up, gave him food and made him eat. The second time God told him to eat heartily for he had a long trip ahead of him. Elijah had to get up and go whether he wanted to or not. And, even though he kept falling asleep, God kept waking him up, and feeding him, and urging him onward.

And there is our message. God is always there. God is always there. God is always providing what it takes to keep going. If you think it is hard to go on in difficult times think about Elijah who had to travel on foot for forty days and nights, fortified only with that cake and some water that God had provided. Sounds like real life to me. This is no magical story, it is a true revelation about true life. We go on, and God feeds us, and God provides for us, and God is always there.

Then we come to the famous part of this story. After Elijah’s long journey, God’s voice comes to him, and makes him go stand on a mountain, as if things weren’t bad enough already. God says “what are you doing here?” and Elijah tells that same story over and over, he says “I’ve been working hard for you and the people don’t like it and now I quit!” So now Elijah is standing on the mountain, and the tornado comes, and the earthquake comes, and then the fire comes, and God was not in any of those. But then, then, there is “the sound of sheer silence.” Utter nothing. And Elijah knew this was God, for real, in this utter emptiness.

Because that is where we all find God, in that moment of utter emptiness.

God asks Elijah one more time “what do you think you’re doing?” and Elijah complains one more time. And God says, “go back where you came from, keep going.” Because that is God’s plan, that we must keep going, it is what makes the universe work.

This psalm we read this morning, this is one of my sounds of sheer silence. When I was learning what it was going to mean to be a priest, I worked in a hospital in Harlem as a chaplain. I worked long nights over night, and long hot 110 degree summer days. I went from sick person to dying person. I was called to pray with people in comas, and people on the verge of death. And I somehow found this psalm, comforted me. “As the deer longs for the water-brooks, so longs my soul for you, O God.” This is how it works isn’t it? That we have the capacity all at once, to want to quit on the one hand, and to seek God in our soul, like a deer looking for water, on the other. But in the end, it reminds us that the truth is that God is our strength, God’s light and truth lead us, and for that we give God thanks.

For Christians the message is clear. God became human in Jesus, to actually walk with us, to show us how to walk in love, to teach us respect and righteousness, to bring healing and especially to teach us justice.

That’s a pretty fantastic Gospel story about the demons and the herd of swine. But the point of the story is healing; the man who had been possessed, was made whole by being made one with his own people, he got to go home. Make no mistake, in the Gospel, healing always means becoming one again with the people. Because becoming one with the people, is also becoming one with God. This is what God wants. God wants us to realize our own salvation. That means we have to own it. We have to push past whatever our selfish needs, we have stand up to whatever it is that oppresses us, we have to ignore the distractions and instead, we have to listen for the silence. Because there in the silence, is the sure knowledge, that God is always with us. That we already have been saved, that we already and always can be one, with one another and with God.

The carnage in Orlando was, well, it was carnage. We are unsettled that it happened. We are unsettled that it can happen. We are in grief at the loss of life. We are, literally, terrified. And yet, somehow we have to understand that, like Elijah, we cannot quit. God is reminding us that God always is with us, always nourishing us. God is waking us up, for the long journey, and it is a long journey, to discover the Salvation that already is ours.

 

©2016 The Rev. Dr. Richard P. Smiraglia. All rights reserved.

*Proper 7 (1 Kings 19:1-4, (5-7), 8-15a Psalm 42 Quemadmodum and 43 Judica me, Deus Galatians 3:23-29 Luke 8:26-39)

 

The Circle of Life*

Lately I’ve been sort of culturally discombobulated, and I know why and I know it is politically incorrect to write about it. So I’ll try to be careful. I think the reason is that I’ve been sort of experiencing culture shock by, let’s just say I haven’t been spending much time in the company of gay folks. There, I said it, sort of.

Now I know it’s 2016 and lgbt people have been fully liberated and integrated in society—ok, maybe not so much, but still, things are quite a lot more liberated and integrated than when I was young. I know many young lgbt folks think we don’t need our own venues any more. But I still need the company of gay folks, just now and again. It helps me keep my balance.

For one thing, I grew up in a time when the rest of society pretty much was likely to grow violent if you were detected in their midst. Almost as painful was the cold shoulder, the other approach, where you were simply completely ignored. Now I know those days are sort of over. But still, decades of experience color my own perceptions. Although I came out in 1976, which was awhile ago, I still carry with me pain from exclusion and fear, all from my youth fifty years ago. So you are fortunate if you are of a contemporary generation and do not carry that baggage. But still, sometimes I just like to sit still in a place where everybody is gay.

I think it’s a natural sort of impulse. Families work that way too sometimes, you just feel better in the bosom of your family, even if Thanksgivings can get to be excruciating thanks to family dynamics.

But Christian life is meant to be lived in change mode. The church models a certain kind of life through the liturgical year—we move from Pentecost and the empowering fire of the Holy Spirit, through the long slog summer of Jesus’ ministry, and then when it is cold and grey and snowing we turn inward for Advent, and then Christmas comes and we start all over again, awaiting a new thing. It is like a circle of life, and the church intends us to learn to take comfort in the familiar, but also to use it as a springboard for being constantly renewed. A new thing is happening every day in each one of us. If we are in Christ, then we are constantly new. Not once for a minute, but constantly and forever new.

This is what Paul means when he says: “It is no longer I who live, but it is Christ who lives in me.” We have to take part in the circle of life and participate in building up the family in love, because the world revolves in love and it all works better when we participate. We are to give love outward, to “walk in love,” as Paul calls us to do. We are to participate in the circle of life and love that begins in our hearts and souls.

In Luke’s Gospel (7:36-8:3) Jesus is loving outward. He is invited to a formal dinner, but when he gets there he brings with him some outcasts. He loves them. He shows his love by giving them respect, which they are not shown by the hosts, because they are working women. What a concept, respect. It really is that simple. Give respect to everyone. Even those “other” cultures. It is how lgbt people are called to participate in the circle of life and God’s love.

 

©2016 The Rev. Dr. Richard P. Smiraglia. All rights reserved.

Proper 6 Year C 2016 RCL (1 Kings 21:1-10, (11-14), 15-21a; Psalm 5:1-8 Verba mea auribus ; Galatians 2:15-21 ; Luke 7:36-8:3)