Intertwined in Love

It seems to be summer. I mean, it’s pretty much sunny all the time and very warm in the daytime. The last drenching rains were over a week ago (then again, it can rain year-round in Oregon …). I find myself learning to shift now from protecting potted plants on the deck from the downpour to having to water the garden every few days. At least it gives me an excuse to get up from my desk and go outside.

I miss going to the gym of course. I really miss going to the supermarket or the hardware store on a lazy afternoon and just wandering along looking at the shelves of stuff I never buy, just to learn what’s there. Since “re-opening” began a few weeks ago cases of Covid-19 have climbed steadily all around us, so even my weekly foray to the store now takes on new menace.

Zooms have been a good way to stay connected but I also find myself overbooked, at least during the mornings, which have been my time for meditation and writing all of my life. So I space out my participation to preserve contemplative time but it means I miss out on chances to socialize. It’s a good thing I’ve got my roses and geraniums to commune with, I guess.

I’ve always been a sort of reluctant gardener. I love planting something and tending it and watching it grow. As a youth in Hawaii, where we all took horticulture classes and learned how to create functional gardens, I remember serious all-out gardening. Our family moved into a new house there all surrounded with challenging red clay soil. I planted Bermuda grass, then when it had spread I planted coleus that grew into a hedge (!) and propagated papaya trees from the seeds in a papaya I plucked from a tree nearby. These days I’m more a mulch and bright colorful flowers kind of guy. The red and orange blossoms give me pleasure and (I hear) increase our chi. But in my garden as in my personal life I value space.

An interesting theological puzzle has been lurking in the scripture over the past few weeks; this is the idea that the unity of all creation–the unity of God with us and us with each other and therefore all of us with God—this unity is the effect, the crop as it were—of being joined together, which means grown together, like the intertwining trunks of a banyon tree, on the one hand, but also like my zinnias and dahlias and roses and geraniums, nicely separated by pots and mulch but growing together simultaneously and joyfully coloring my garden. They are joined together, but separate too.

Like us, right?

As I said up top, I find myself less inclined to go out where people are these days. I also find myself waiting hopefully for a decline in disease that will make it safe to gather again, especially for loved ones at a distance to gather. We know from epidemiologists as well as from just watching the parts of the world that have successfully reduced transmission of the virus that it all depends on social distance. That the key to any sort of normalcy in the absence of a vaccine or a cure is separation, isolation ….

Pride month, the annual celebration of lgbt lives, has to be virtual this year. No singing, dancing or hugging. As lgbt people we are like my zinnias, I guess, grown together, joined together with our neighbors, yet apart. Our unity, we must always remember, is in God’s love, which is everywhere and eternal.

In the story of the testing of Abraham in Genesis (22:1-14) we learn that God always provides. The outcome of the test lived through with faith is that God provides. It doesn’t make the test go away, it doesn’t make the test less challenging. But the outcome of faith, which is the continuance of love, is always more love. Faith yields love, which yields the joining together that unites us with each other and with God. Love is the answer.

Sin is the theological term used for disconnection, and disconnection only takes place in the absence of love. In Romans 6 (12-23) Paul writes that we must not let “sin exercise dominion.” He means we must be alert to keep love uppermost at all times so that we maintain connection with each other, which is connection with God. Disconnectedness has no power except the power that we give it. Love, the opposite, is the answer to firm everlasting connection. Love is the fertilizer that keeps us growing together. Love is the freedom of knowing we live in God’s creation secure in connection.

Of course, freedom is not license. Love gives us freedom from disconnection. The love that yields freedom requires. at least for now, separation. Because it is only in this separation that we can be certain we are giving love at all times by protecting each other.

Jesus’ sermon in Matthew’s Gospel (10:40-42) is directed to all who are faithful. The essence of the message is that all who love welcome God. “Whoever gives even a cup of cold water to one of these little ones in the name of a disciple …” will be rewarded as righteous. By “little ones” Jesus means all of us—you and me—all of us who are the regular peeps trying our best to walk in love. It reminded me of a time now many years ago when I walked with the Episcopal Church in the pride parade in New York City. Somehow I got to be one of the people carrying the banner at the front of our delegation. My end of the pole was along the east side of the avenues as we paraded down Manhattan. I remember it was hot and sunny. I remember being stunned that so many people were calling my name as I passed them. It turned out lots of people I knew from Philadelphia had made their way to New York for the parade so I was doubly blessed, especially with fellow parishioners (LOL, fellow “little ones”) from churches in both cities (not to mention my model railroading buds). I remember the long line of collared clergy just behind us arms intertwined (grown together in love?) dancing down the avenues to shouts and cheers and applause. And I remember that every block or two when we stopped for a moment a group of volunteers would emerge from the crowd to hand us little cups of cold water—salvation, love, pride, all intertwined, all grown together.

Christian life in a nutshell is walking in love, intertwined in love, living always full out in love, trusting in God’s eternity, which is love.

 

Proper 8 Year A 2020 RCL (Genesis 22:1-14; Psalm 13 Usquequo, Domine?; Romans 6:12-23; Matthew 10: 40-42)

©2020 The Rev. Dr. Richard P. Smiraglia. All rights reserved.

Endurance

I have a real talent for letting my thoughts run away with me. It always surprises me too, because in general I’m pretty even-keeled and optimistic. But sometimes even a tiny thing will run away with me and when it happens I find it all consuming and very difficult to ride out.

A good example was the evening I lost my wedding ring for awhile. It was a few weeks ago. We had gone out one evening for our first exciting symphony concert in the city. We waited in the driveway for our Uber, it was a nice sunny afternoon. We noticed the funny tree by the end of the driveway, that we hadn’t looked at much all summer, was now filled with the most exotic dark purple fruits—a fig tree! I was very excited. We had a lovely evening; that wasn’t when it happened.

But all week long I took to bringing a few figs into the house with me. I diced some into a salad, I sliced them for dipping in hummus, I was really enjoying having my own fig supply. Late in the week, Friday maybe, as we came in from whatever errands we’d been running I grabbed a bunch of very ripe figs, thinking maybe I could make something interesting from them over the weekend—I think I wound up making a pizza with them and some mushrooms. These figs were very ripe and were oozing sticky liquid on my hands. I brought them inside and plopped them on the ripening plate in the kitchen and then washed my hands.

About an hour later I was doing some work on my model railroad and tiny things kept sticking to my hands so I went to wash my hands. I remember moving my ring just a bit to wash under it because it was sort of sticking to my finger.

A few hours later, after dinner, I sat down to watch my evening television. Wouldn’t you know, the show on my watchlist was the I Love Lucy episode where Lucy loses her wedding ring. I thought “how funny” as I reached for my ring only to discover it was not on my finger. Uh oh …

I got Brad, who had similarly “lost” his about six months ago for a few hours, and we moved furniture and combed the room where I had been sitting but no luck, no sign of a wedding ring.

I became obsessed. I could not watch television I was so distracted. I tried to go to bed but I couldn’t sleep or even really relax because I was so distracted. I actually experienced physical sensations of a kind of feverishness—maybe a fight or flight response? I couldn’t read. I couldn’t even play iPhone solitaire. It was as though a storm was raging in my psyche, as though my soul was at war with itself.

I did eventually drift off and fell into a silly dream about having lost my wedding ring. In the dream I retraced my steps like a mystery detective and found the ring. Excitedly happy I awoke, only to discover the ring still missing from my finger. But I decided to go with the message. I got up, turned on lights around the trains and tried to work back through what I had done. Suddenly I remembered the sticky tiny things and washing my ring finger, so I returned to the sink where that had taken place and there was my ring—just poised to go down the drain. I didn’t recognize it right away because, well, it looked a bit odd sitting in the sink, and also because I was still physically affected by my dark spirit.

Here’s the rub, as they say. Salvation was mine but I was so consumed I couldn’t see or feel or experience it. Well, I picked up the ring, put it on my finger and went to show Brad, who was sound asleep. Oh well I thought as the relief washed over me and through me and released my spirit and resurrected my soul.

In Isaiah 65 God announces through the prophet just how a “new heavens and a new earth” will be built, “the former things shall not be remembered or come to mind … be glad and rejoice forever.” In Luke 21 Jesus tells how the temple will be destroyed; a series of terrifying “signs” is recited. But the parable ends with “by your endurance you will gain your souls.”

We are called as God’s heirs to love not only each other but also ourselves because by living in a constant state of love we create God’s kingdom around us. It is a tough lesson for many reasons, not the least of which is that to live in love (or to walk in love as it often is expressed in the New Testament) is really like a job. It means being constantly vigilant. It means keeping your soul and your spirit focused on love and on loving and not on the fear and panic of self. I know—easier said than done. But it is in remembering that the “dark nights of the soul” are many and the solution is to cease to give them honor by filling your spirit with the hope of salvation, the return of a soul filled with love, and thereby enduring, as Jesus put it.

The “First Song of Isaiah” is a good verse to keep at hand. “I will trust and not be afraid … give thanks … sing the praises of the Lord … ring out your joy.” It is in these ways we build up love and so endure to find our way back to the proverbial mountaintop of joy.

Why is my wedding ring so precious to me? I suppose there are layers of emotion wrapped up in it. The obvious part is the symbol of love it represents as it is the tie that bound the two of us in marriage making us each other’s family. Maybe part of it is that it was only after 30 years of our relationship (and many ups and downs) that we were allowed by society to marry, so that for us it is all the more precious as a symbol of the way that hope and love can overcome even oppression.

Well, the truth is in here somewhere. It is certain that we are called by God who not only created us but created us as loving lgbt people to walk in love as we go. Our trust in that love is our salvation. For it is by our endurance that we will gain our souls.

Proper 28 (Isaiah 65:17-25; Canticle 9 (Isaiah 12:2-6); 2 Thessalonians 3:6-13; Luke 21:5-19)

©2019 The Rev. Dr. Richard P. Smiraglia. All rights reserved.

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)