This past Tuesday, I attended the annual meeting of Episcopal City Mission a group that works for social justice in partnership with parishes and in funding new projects in local communities. Each year, ECM gives out awards for groups or individuals who have done notable work over the year to promote justice. One award was given to the outgoing chair of Morville house, an affordable housing complex that ECM owns for seniors in Boston. Another went to Marisa Egerstrom, one of the first organizers of the "Protest Chaplains," a faith presence at the Occupy movement for income equality that began last September. She’s a PhD student in religion at Harvard and in discernment for the priesthood and goes to the parish that sponsored me for the priesthood, St John the Evangelist, Boston.
Both here in Boston and in the original Occupy Wall Street site in New York, Marisa was instrumental in telling the story about how Christians care about inequality (in all honesty, this should not be news). In her acceptance speech, she talked about how we long for the Kingdom of God--how it is an almost physical, palpable longing. She also thanked ECM for acknowledging the Spirit in people who look different from the way church people often do, and in places where the Church often does not go. The Protest Chaplains had the opportunity to communicate the Gospel in a new way to people who, perhaps, had given up on the Church. That felt, physical longing for justice that buzzed in the air at Zuccoti Park and on the Greenway was a refusal to settle for the status quo as we have become accustomed to it. It was a declaration that we as a society can do better than homelessness and better than billionaires. That longing, the Protest Chaplains offered, is a longing for God--a longing many of the people there would not have labeled as such because religion as they have seen it has been about telling people that they are insufficient, not that they are blessed. It was evangelism as well as activism.
At the same time, I've been getting ready for our screening of Love Free or Die. In preparing to write this morning, I had this background buzz in my mind--"Really, Sara? Really? Do we have to talk about sexuality AGAIN?" It's an excellent movie, but maybe you are feeling the same in wondering whether you will attend tonight. The thing is, as I sit here behind my computer on my suburban couch before leisurely driving into work, the fact is that I have the luxury to even ask that question. A teenager whose parents have kicked him out of the house for being gay, a mother whose ex-husband is trying to take away shared custody of their children because she's a lesbian, service members who are finally, finally able to be honest about who the are--they don't have the choice. And, so, it falls to each of us to tell the story, again and again, of God's love for everyone--everyone, yes, even those who disagree about the issue in the first place.
In a video I posted recently on our facebook page, a seminary friend of mine talks about how the Church needs to be a sanctuary, but a particular kind of sanctuary, one of safety, not avoidance. Michele is currently embroiled in the debate over a constitutional amendment to ban same-sex marriage in Minnesota. She and her partner have been together for more than ten years, and she has a clear stake in the conversation. But she also is advocating for church to be a place where people can love each other across their differences, to respect one another deeply and even, still, be able to disagree. Church is a sanctuary, but not away from the "dirty" things of the world like politics. It's a sanctuary from the dirty things of the world like contempt and fear. We are in dialogue not so much to change each other but to hear each other.
So hopefully I’ll see you tonight—whether you’re all settled on the question of sexuality and the church or whether you’re still discerning—and I hope that you’ll pray for Marisa, and Gene Robinson, and all those people who pose hard questions to easy comfort.
I’ll close with this Franciscan blessing:
May God bless us with discomfort, At easy answers, half-truths, and superficial relationships, So that you may live deep within your heart.
May God bless you with anger, At injustice, oppression, and exploitation of people, So that you may work for justice, freedom, and peace.
May God bless you with tears, To shed for those who suffer from pain, rejection, starvation, and war, So that you may reach out your hand to comfort them and turn their pain to joy.
And may God bless you with enough foolishness, To believe that you can make a difference in this world, So that you can do what others claim cannot be done. Amen.
Blessings,
Sara+
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