Drinking from Deep Wells: A Candlemas Reflection

I was a faithful member of the United Methodist Church from the age of 12 until I was 18 and in college. When I left, for good in my mind, at the age of 19, I told myself that I was a leaving behind a church that condemned me, a religion that left me malnourished, and a God who had forsaken me for eternity. In a period of less than two years, my spiritual journey led me along a path from doubting Christian, to anti-religious atheist, to inquisitive Unitarian Universalist. My dalliance with atheism was short-lived and half-hearted, and my embrace of Unitarian Universalism was initially borne of gratitude for discovering a way to be religious that allowed me to be rid of the Christianity that I’d left behind me. I have now been a Unitarian Universalist for 18 years – at 36 years old that’s half my life so far, following the 18 years I was a professing Christian, and threefold the years I belonged to the United Methodist Church with which I identified for so long. A lot about my theology and my religious outlook has changed in all that time, and I continue to reassess my beliefs as I age and have more life experience.

I remember a class called “The New UU” that I took at the first UU congregation I would join on my new path, which is now called the Unitarian Universalist Congregation at Montclair (NJ). In one of the early sessions, a gay former Catholic got into a heated debate with the minister leading the discussion about the role of ritual in Unitarian Universalism. This man was angry at even the merest suggestion that what would be his newfound faith should in any way resemble the one which had scarred him, which meant that there was absolutely no room for ritual of any sort, or even the word ritual itself. At the time, I thought he was being ridiculous; but in him I recognized the hurt that I, too, was feeling as a gay man ostracized by the faith of my upbringing. Who was I to judge him? Unfortunately, he did not find what he was looking for that evening, so he got up in a huff mid-class and he left. I sometimes wonder where his journey led him after that night. As for me, I decided that religion was still a worthwhile pursuit and I chose to remain.

My early years as a Unitarian Universalist were ones in which I was comfortable being dismissive of Christianity and also being around others who were equally or more dismissive. For a modern movement whose roots lie in two Christian denominations, it bewilders me how much we have come to embrace an overall disdain for our origins. Granted, I appreciated this tendency at first; but my years of study and open encounter with those UU’s who would still follow Jesus, not to mention my separation from the particularist and fundamentalist interpretations of the Bible that I’d fled, rendered me less hostile to the faith of my upbringing than I’d once been. Reading the works of Marcus Borg, whom I declared to be my favorite theologian upon his death just a year ago, was a great influence on my willingness to not disregard and discard all the good that I’d known within Christianity. In my experience, many Unitarian Universalists are open to the wisdom of ABC religion – Anything But Christianity.

Now, I don’t mean to suggest that I have come full circle and consider myself a Christian – I haven’t evolved that far, yet! – nor do I mean to imply that everyone can and should find that the Christian story is of ultimate value to their lives. I’m simply observing that, at some point, we became a faith that is comprised largely of people whose major impulse is to leave behind rather than to move toward. How do we overcome that?

In the eighteen years since I left Christianity behind me, I have attended Christian churches of various denominations only for weddings, funerals, and, after I met my husband and began observing Christmas again, Christmas Eve services. I once attended a Lutheran service on Palm Sunday because a nephew was being baptized. In almost every instance, I felt like an outsider. A welcomed and well-treated outsider, but an outsider nonetheless. Last year on Candlemas, a time of purification, preparation, initiation, and commitment, I decided that my spiritual life was spread too broadly and that I needed to choose the wells from which I would drink more deeply. On that day, I joined both the Unitarian Universalist Christian Fellowship, having decided to stop fighting my background, and the Covenant of Unitarian Universalist Pagans, having long ago come to the conclusion that an observance of the natural cycles of the earth, and of life, held great value for me. I’ve spent the year between that Candlemas and this embracing the idea of claiming a narrower path than the one I’ve been taking all these years. I began moving closer to the rhythm of the Christian liturgical cycle during Advent, reflecting on quiet hope in the dark of the year. I continued observance of the rhythm of the pagan wheel of the year, participating once again in my church’s Winter Solstice ritual. In eighteen years, I refused communion at every Christian service I went to where it was offered (except once a year, at most, in my own UU congregation where I could partake in good conscience). On this last Christmas Eve, after ten Christmases in a row of letting my husband and in-laws go up for communion and waiting behind, I led our pew up to the front of the church and partook with them. Just this weekend, I attended the Imbolc ritual of the Baltimore Reclaiming Community, where I honored the lengthening of days, asked a blessing on holy candles, gazed into the ignis purgans, and made a pledge to “live fully now” in the coming year. Next week brings Ash Wednesday... There’s something about these rituals that I’ve been missing in Unitarian Universalism, notwithstanding the sometime belief that there is too much ritual, as espoused by the wounded man I’d met so many years before as a new UU.

Part of what we as Unitarian Universalists value in religious life is the “encouragement to spiritual growth in our congregations”, and we promote the “direct experience of that transcending mystery and wonder, affirmed in all cultures, which moves us to a renewal of the spirit and an openness to the forces that create and uphold life”. I have come to a point in my life where that means I must dig more deeply and draw from the wells that I have chosen for myself. The words of what some view as the Unitarian Universalist’s most sacred hymn plead “roots hold me close, wings set me free”. For the year ahead, I intend to explore ways in which I might be held close by my Christian roots and set free by Pagan wings. I will continue to be nourished from other wells, as they offer me their resources; but I will tend to my own at this time, and I will pray that this anchoring and expanding might continue to be held within my chosen faith community. Spirit of Life, come to me…come to me.

Wedding Rings

In many ways, my husband Joel and I are very conventional, if not traditional, in the ways we choose to live our lives — our lifestyle. Sure, as gay men in the 21st Century, we might occasionally like to think of ourselves as counter-cultural, cutting-edge, trend-setting, even radical — and in some very important ways, these are all true — but when it comes to most things, we can be downright boring we're so normal.

When we agreed that it was time to get married, we initially decided against wearing wedding rings. For one thing, neither of us is accustomed to wearing jewelry, not to mention that I have lost every single ring that I have ever owned! Rings are a potential safety hazard in Joel's line of work, and sometimes are just inconvenient for us. Joel is frequently playing around in the dirt, planting things, weeding, and gardening; and I just don't like having things on my hands when typing (which I do too much) or playing the piano (which I don't do nearly often enough). So we thought we'd skip the rings. After all, why do people wear them to begin with? What tradition, what symbolism, would we be perpetuating? How would these be relevant to us?

For a brief time, when we couldn't let go of the thought of rings, we entertained (half-heartedly) the idea of tattooing bands on our ring fingers. Now there's a sign of permanence and commitment! However, our insincere enthusiasm for that prospect fizzled rather quickly. I never wanted a tattoo anyway! What to do?

In the end, we decided to go ahead and buy rings. What an interesting experience. All of the places we went put their energies into marketing towards brides — in fact, the selections of men's rings we saw were very minimal compared to the broad range of women's band that are available. In some ways, this made our task harder, but in many ways it was much easier. We ended up at a sales counter looking over a selection that appealed to us, and got help from a sales associate to size our fingers and try on different rings. Apparently, one hand (perhaps it's the dominant one?) is about half a size larger than the other...I had no idea! As we had considered wearing ours on our right hands instead of the left, we tried rings on both. Once we selected two that we were happy with, the associate remarked that we'd chosen beautiful rings, but that they didn't match! Joel quickly replied, "Neither do we, so it's fine!", which made me laugh out loud. He's so cute. So we bought the rings.

The funny thing about this whole situation — well, two funny things — is that no one really, until now, knew that we'd seriously considered dispensing with the whole ring thing altogether. I'm not sure how that scenario would have played itself out, and I guess I won't know now. The other thing that fascinates me is how many people want to know why we wear them on our right hands — everybody knows that wedding bands are worn on the left hand! I mean, if you don't follow convention, what's the point, right? What does one communicate, or not communicate, by choosing not to wear a band on the left hand? [Insert shrug here]. 

While there isn't really a single reason for our choice, here are a few things to consider, in no particular order:

1. We are both left-handed and left-hand dominant. Theoretically, wearing our rings on our right hands would be less "inconvenient".
2. Wearing bands on the left hand is not a universal tradition. Many cultures wear them on the right ring finger, some on a different finger altogether, and some probably don't wear rings at all!
3. Some gay couples purposively wear their rings on the hand opposite that which the predominant culture would choose, signifying that their union is similar to but different than a heterosexual marriage.
4. In many ways, my husband Joel and I are very conventional. We might occasionally like to think of ourselves as counter-cultural, cutting-edge, trend-setting, even radical...but when it comes to most things, we can be downright boring we're so normal.

May 17

I have been married for one week and one day.

On May 17, 2014, exactly two months ahead of the nine-year anniversary of the day I fell in love with my partner, we were finally, beautifully, joyously, and legally married at the First Unitarian Church of Baltimore, surrounded by about 250 of the people we most care about and who love us with a boundless love. It was miraculous — a dream come true, and just perfect, despite a few hiccups along the way. We are so happy.

Photo Credit: A.N.G.R. Photography

Over the course of these nine years, I have (on several occasions) fantasized about getting married on many different dates, for various reasons. I don't really know much about numerology and the like, but for some reason I wanted to choose a wedding date that was significant. All of the dates I'd chosen came and went, and we remained unwed; we've felt ourselves to be married for quite a few years now, and settled on telling people that we were getting "wedding'd", although I can't describe the sense of legitimacy and finality we've at last been allowed to experience now that marriage equality is the law of the land, at least here in Maryland and a handful of other states.

During the summer of 2013, we'd finally agreed that it was time, and decided we would like to get married in the spring of 2014. Because Joel comes from a family of farmers, we understood that this would be a difficult time to schedule a wedding, due to the uncertainty of the weather for planting season in Western Pennsylvania. However, we decided that sometime in May might work best for our families to travel to Baltimore from the various states where they live.

May 3 ended up being too early, and because the Sunday closest to May 5, "Union Sunday", is a kind of High Holy Day in our congregation, we didn't want to take that weekend. May 10 was Mother's Day Weekend...so, no. May 17 seemed like a good date.. And May 24 — this weekend — is Memorial Day Weekend, so we didn't want it now. Next weekend, May 31, would have been much too late. So May 17 it was.

Curious to know what "significance" May 17 might have, I looked up historical events that took place on that date:

On May 17, 1536, the marriage of Henry VIII of England to Anne Boleyn was annulled. Hmm...no.

On May 17, 1875, Aristides, a thoroughbred chestnut colt, won the first Kentucky Derby. Great, but not so significant to married life, and I wouldn't realize any connection until much later...

On May 17, 1954, the U.S. Supreme Court unanimously decided Brown v. Board of Education, allowing for racial integration and declaring that separate is inherently unequal. A-ha! Something of import for a racially mixed gay couple! May 17 seemed like a good date after all!

On May 17, 1990, when I was a hurting, depressed, and moody eleven-year-old boy generally unaware of such external goings-on, the General Assembly of the World Health Organisation (WHO) eliminated homosexuality from its list of psychiatric diseases. Being gay was no longer considered to be a mental and emotional deficiency! HALLELUJAH! May 17 seemed like a GREAT date!

And on May 17, 2004, after the Massachusetts Supreme Judicial Court ruled in Goodrich v. Department of Public Health that barring same-sex couples from marriage was unconstitutional, couples in that state began marrying. In this number were the seven couples from the court case, all of whom were wed at the Arlington Street Church (Unitarian Universalist). JACKPOT! Joel and I would be wed on the 10th Anniversary of the very first same-sex marriages in these United States of America. And since May 17, 2005, this day has been celebrated as the International Day Against Homophobia and Transphobia (IDAHO, or IDAHOT since the 2009 inclusion of Transphobia in the title). We couldn't have landed a more perfect date!

It wasn't until we began trying to block hotel rooms for out-of-state guests that we learned that May 17, 2014, would also be the date for the Preakness Stakes, the second leg of U.S. horseracing's triple crown. Oh well, we weren't going to change the date now! We'd just have to make do with sharing our day with the Preakness, and we did. And it was such a glorious day.

I often joke about having CDO, which is like obsessive-compulsive disorder except with the letters in the right order [insert LOL here]. I'm not sure why it was so important to me that we be married on a date with some oomph to it...but I'm so happy that we did! We have the rest of our lives to celebrate, together with the world, the power of love to overcome obstacles, and to win over the hearts of humankind.

I'm so in love, I don't think this glow will ever go away...

Photo Credit: Amy Genevieve Kozak

Palm Sunday in the ELCA

Yesterday, on Palm Sunday, I attended a service at a Lutheran Church for the baptism of my partner's and my newest nephew. Over the years that I have been with my partner I have changed a lot, and my feelings about Christianity have evolved and broadened. Still, the only times I set foot in Christian churches for a service over the past decade have been for weddings, funerals, and for the past eight Christmas Eves with my partner's family at their Lutheran Church. Every year, my internal dialog leading into Christmas revolves around whether or not to take communion. So far, my resolve has been not to participate, both because I respect the rite for what it means to the community in which I am a guest, and also because I respect that the rite in that format doesn't mean much to me. After all this time, I figure that folks in the congregation have grown accustomed to my stepping aside and observing while they line up rather than joining them up at the altar. Going to a service, in the daylight, at the start of the holiest week in the Christian liturgical year...that was going to be something different altogether!

Except, that it wasn't. Despite my admittedly small anxiety over the question of communion, I wondered what my reaction would be to doctrine around the last few days of Jesus' life and his pending resurrection. I wondered what my reaction would be to the sacrament of baptism, understood in most Christian communities as an initiation into the Christian fold. Would I bristle at the exclusivity of it all? Would I find the tone of the service arrogant and condescending? Would I hold my breath and pray for it to be over so we could take pictures and go back to the farm for lunch with family?

No. None of that happened. In fact, I was actually very pleased with the whole experience. The people were warm and welcoming, as they always have been. The hymn tunes, for the most part, were familiar and comforting. The scripture reading from Isaiah spoke to me, and the gospel reading was touching, if somber. The baby was ever so peaceful and neither cried nor woke during the baptism service. Included in the time for intercessory prayer were words of inclusion which, while affirming the primacy of Christ for the congregation at hand, yet still honored and respected people of differing belief! I was amazed and pleased. And, though I'm not sure of the exact reason (perhaps because of the quiet tenor of anticipation during Holy Week), there was no communion!

As they say in the United Church of Christ, God is still speaking! And I am indeed pleased with strides made of late in the Lutheran Church (ELCA), specifically with regard to attitudes on human sexuality. My assumptions about what Christianity is are biased by my experience of what it has been, and are crumbling in the face of what it is becoming - which is ever-more inclusive and tolerant of diversity, at least in certain corners of the United States.

Here's what I was confronted with on Sunday:

Isaiah 50:4-9(a) {NRSV}

⁴ The Lord God has given me
    the tongue of a teacher,
that I may know how to sustain
    the weary with a word.
Morning by morning he wakens—
    wakens my ear
    to listen as those who are taught.
⁵ The Lord God has opened my ear,
    and I was not rebellious,
    I did not turn backward.
⁶ I gave my back to those who struck me,
    and my cheeks to those who pulled out the beard;
I did not hide my face
    from insult and spitting.

⁷ The Lord God helps me;
    therefore I have not been disgraced;
therefore I have set my face like flint,
    and I know that I shall not be put to shame;
⁸     he who vindicates me is near.
Who will contend with me?
    Let us stand up together.
Who are my adversaries?
    Let them confront me.
⁹ It is the Lord God who helps me;

who will declare me guilty? 

I listened to the reader, and I heard the still, small voice within me say "God has a use for you". I felt like, yeah, maybe one day I will actually go to seminary. I thought of all the bad experiences I had in the past and into the present with those who profess the love of God while inflicting spiritual harm on anyone who is different than they are, and I heard "you are a child of God, do not be ashamed". I heard the foreshadowing of "they know not what they do", and while I began to feel pity for people who claim Christianity yet do not follow Jesus' command to love, I realized that those pitiful people were not the ones with whom I was worshiping. No, these people were a community of people striving together, struggling together, to be the best people that they could be. These people were Christians the way God intends Christians to be. It was a revelatory moment for me, hearing the scripture read in this context. It wasn't until later that I discovered that, at least according to the program insert provided by the ELCA, these words of the prophet Isaiah were seen as predicting the Messiah and were to be read as though Jesus said them. No matter. God was still speaking through Isaiah's words, and I heard what God wanted to say to me, in my heart.

Later, toward the end of the baptism portion of the service, came the intercessory prayers:

Returning to the Lord with all our heart, let us pray for the whole people of God, the earth, and all who cry out for healing.

{A brief silence.}

Form in the church the mind of Christ, that we may empty ourselves for the sake of the world you love. Hear us, O God.
Your mercy is great.

Open the ears of civil authorities, that they may hear the voices of those facing insult and degradation, and those who cry out for bread and shelter. Hear us, O God.
Your mercy is great.

Rescue the earth from abuse and pollution, and bring an end to famine, disease, terror, and bloodshed. Hear us, O God.
Your mercy is great.

Bless the Jewish people as they celebrate Passover, and grant that the religions of the world may grow in mutual understanding and respect. Hear us, O God.
Your mercy is great.

Draw near to all who feel abandoned, or who face alienation, death, or illness this holy week {prayers inserted here for local community members}. Hear us, O God.
Your mercy is great.

Teach us to walk the way of the cross, that we may be a community of forgiveness and mercy. Hear us, O God.
Your mercy is great.

{Here other intercessions were offered.}

We remember all the martyrs and saints who at death were commended into your merciful hands (especially Oscar Romero). Bring us, with them, to the joy of the resurrection. Hear us, O God.
Your mercy is great.

Hear us according to your steadfast love, O God, and in your great compassion bring us to resurrection and rebirth in Jesus Christ our Lord.
Amen. 

Can you believe it? I hardly could.

At the end of the service, church members came up to this large group of people, mostly out-of-towners just present for the baby's baptism, and sincerely welcomed us, inviting us back for next week's service! The pessimist in me thought "they are a tiny congregation and it must feel nice to have more people present for services", and this is probably true. But the optimist in me thought "these are people of God, behaving in a way that is pleasing to God."

And we all laughed, and smiled, and rejoiced. It didn't hurt that our nephew (like all our other nieces and nephews) is the cutest most adorable most well-behaved kid on the face of the planet*.



*The bias here is all mine, and I'm not ashamed!