Exhaustion

I'm exhausted. Not sure whether physically or spiritually, but still lacking a lot of energy I associate with living day-to-day. I so wish I could back this week up and start it over, with changes.

On Wednesday afternoon, around 5:10pm, my partner John slipped and fell, head-first, down a half-flight of stairs. I don't know the circumstances--was he headed toward his office, had he a glass of wine, what was he thinking--but the consequences were catastrophic. I was close by, arriving in the kitchen to prepare supper, just around the corner of the stairs. I heard him fall. I saw him seconds later, he was unconscious. Not good.

I called 911, unlocked the front door, then mopped up some water or some colorless liquid on the stairs. First responder was a Munster patrolman. I called to him to come through the kitchen. A minute or two later, paramedics arrived. The patrolman called out to them this time. Two or three minutes after that, a second team of paramedics arrived. The paramedics with the muscle lifted him out of the family room and onto the gurney in the kitchen.

John was no better than semi-conscious throughout. As they strapped him to the board, I collected his meds into a plastic bag. I believe I alerted them to the Coumadin he was taking. John was placed on a gurney and transported to the EMT vehicle, thence to the ER. I followed a few minutes later.

Community Hospital Munster was reasonably prompt in assessing John, considering the institutional structures through which such assessments must travel. He went quickly for a CAT scan and a neuro-surgeon was summoned. He assembled a surgical team and ordered a craniotomy, which began around 9:50pm, roughly forty minutes after he was wheeled out of the ER by the anesthesia team. The neurosurgeon, a 37-year veteran of his profession, did not soften his opinion of John's condition nor his prognosis.

During the interstitial times, I worked to arrange alternate transport for the two baritones I had agreed to carpool to the Peninsula Music Festival in Door County, Wisconsin, on Thursday. One of them made it, the other didn't. We prepared Beethoven's Symphony #9, fourth movement, this summer. Easy come, easy go, I guess

Thus, Wednesday evening and Thursday morning were times of frantic rearrangement. By today, this period became one of derangement, limited of course by the circumstances.  By today, the panic had subsided and a mix of depression and anger--covert and overt anger--had covered some of the personal scene. One must note, the intervention of significant social contacts is a significant element in the breakup of these emotional "binges". I have had the opportunity to express my grief, frustration and general angst, thanks to the generosity of close friends. There's no subsitute for close friends, to help one through tough times.

John will recover in God's Good Time. I'll post more, later. I'm exhausted.

My good friend Lisa, in her post today, alerted us Piskie readers to the actions of the Diocese of South Carolina, which she charged might be "secessionist and duplicitous".

I responded, because it showed me the clear, highly charged path between conditions and actions. It's almost as clear as the path that creates a lightning bolt between cloud and ground:

Since 2009, TEC has not received a pledge from the DofSC greater than 0.7% of its income. By contrast, even the DofLouisiana has pledged in the 10-11% range; NC is at 21%, and VA is above 17%. SC is de facto in secession.

I have two proposals, one hard line, the other softer. Hardline? Adopting the principle that one puts one's money where one's mouth is, I propose we replace the entire SC standing committee and bishop based on their failure to do their part to uphold the Church to which they claim to belong. IOW, show me your commitment to TEC by your pledge and its fulfillment. This is the God of Judgement, in spades. There will be winners and losers.

The softer line entails more work. Organize. Create a coalition. Invade the state as CORE did the South in 1961 with its Freedom Rides. Enlist Integrity, HRC, and any other organizations willing to participate. Visit the churches in the DofSC. All of them, if you have the staff. Engage the vestries and clergy. Ask for time to speak to "adult formation". Put human faces to labels like "gay" and "lesbian". You want friends? Be a friend. There are dozens of ways by which you can do this, you know them, you can't do it just by e-mail or Twitter or blogs. You have to be there and make the commitment to be a real friend. Visit a sick relative, hug a stranger, make a phone call in support of a parishioner's need. The softer line converts adversaries into friends. Net, no losers.

The bishop's stance? Up to his congregations. The change starts from the ground up. When the civil rights movement changed us forever, some fifty years ago, did you see the change coming from the top down? Weren't you listening?

 I recognize the risk I have created, that I might be thrust into a leadership role in such an effort. Understand that I greatly prefer a consultative role. I recognize that such a role transfers responsibility to another, whose values may not coincide with my own. I have not given sufficient thought to the morality of such a decision.

Update on my final straw

I have no way of knowing that my earlier post was read and understood, but roughly two weeks before the start of General Convention, I was asked to be the network admin for the advocacy group. So, at my first General Convention, I was there helping to set up, operate and close the group's operation. I was even asked if I would serve again in three years. Yes, I replied, but give me some booth time so I can meet deputies and bishops. IMHO, rotating some assignments would help the entire organization improve its perspective on how it fits into the larger community.

It was rewarding to meet deputies and bishops from my diocese, another bishop whom I am privileged to call my friend, and yet other bishops whose posts I have read or who I want to count as friends. The Episcopal Church is an amazing family, I'm barely able to describe how we all relate to each other in any other terms. Being at The Great Episcopal Sausage Factory is an opportunity to watch the Spirit, unseen yet not unperceived, work to bring the Kingdom a little bit closer. As I have experienced the Spirit in a loving relationship, it can be gritty and very real, and still be love.

So, being called back into community, even after having shaken the dust off my sandals, so to speak, I am once again ready to serve. And I will.

Chick-Fil-A wants a return of patriarchy

Interesting comment by Biblically-challenged Dan Cathy, President of Chick-Fil-A:

"We are very much supportive of the family -- the biblical definition of the family unit."

Hmmm, what would that be? Well, for certain, it's not "one man and one woman" in a peer-to-peer relationship. It's one man in a superior relationship to at least one woman. For King Solomon, it was one man--him--and 700 wives. Oh, and to keep tradition alive, he also had 300 concubines. Talk about a sex drive, wowee! He even made time for the Queen of Sheba, giving her "all her desire, whatsoever she asked". If this is the "biblical definition of the family unit," count me in!

The traditional middle-Eastern definition of marriage is one man and one or more women, all of whom are considered property. Women are subordinate in all things to men. In biblical times, consensual sex was unknown or even forbidden. I read somewhere (but don't have the reference), that in Assyria ca. 1000 BCE, consensual sex was a capital offense. Men had sex with their subordinates: women, slaves, apprentices etc. Sodomy was an act of domination of one person over another, which is why it was eschewed in Mosaic law. The servant of the centurion that Jesus healed more than likely satisfied his master's sexual needs, not just his need for polished armor. Even today, traditional weddings feature the father "giving" his daughter to the groom, as if he had received a good bride-price for her.

So, when Dan Cathy defends his anti-gay stance and contributes millions to "Christian" organizations that oppose homosexuality (however they define it), I infer that he longs for a system of patriarchy that we in the Western world abandoned in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries. Mr. Cathy is welcome to his beliefs. Most of our society, however, is not there with him. And, I'm not in any of his restaurants for the foreseeable future.

A prayer to one who lost her mother

I left this post to a close friend who lost her mother this week:

What a delight, Oh Lord,
that you would receive
your servant Margot
into your presence.

What a delight, Oh Lord,
that we would see
a glimpse of your beauty,
from pain to its release,
from angst to its redemption,
from fear to its freedom!

What a delight, Oh Lord,
You have released her
to unfettered joy.

Reclaiming the faith

Yesterday, Saturday, June 2nd, The Episcopal Church created through ordination a new priest, Dan Puchalla (pronounced, the 'c' is silent). In my most humble opinion, Dan's talent for preaching will grow beyond what it is today. This will be something rather remarkable, considering his current skill at cutting through all the euphemisms to address the nature of Christianity today.

Dan's take on being a priest today?

You can’t be a pastor or a proctologist without people wondering what’s wrong with you that makes you want to do that kind of work.

Early on, Dan acknowledged to his congregation that he was gay, but this was his main point:

And even if most pastors experience this to some degree, you have to acknowledge how much worse it is for gay pastors. When most gay men my age think of pastors, they’re not thinking “potential boyfriend material.” They’re thinking, “ignorant, intolerant, homophobic, sexist pig.”

On Pentecost, May 27th, six days before his ordination, The Rev. Daniel Puchalla unloaded on those who have to this point framed the Christian response to issues of sexuality.

The prevailing bigotries of Christianity don’t offend me primarily as a gay man, as one whom they continually attack and demean. These prevailing Christian bigotries offend and grieve me as one who follows Jesus as my Lord, one who by the water of Baptism has been buried with Christ in his death and raised to new life in his resurrection, as one who has been sealed by the Holy Spirit and marked as Christ’s own for ever, and as one ordained to be a minister of the Word of God.

Rev. Dan characterized Pentecost, as revealed to us in Acts 2:1-21, as an apocalyptic nightmare for those who were comfortable with the status quo, for anyone who believes God's Spirit can be contained in any way,

for those who thought God could be contained by adherence to a moral code and a religious practice. Let today’s Pentecost be an apocalyptic nightmare for any who would use the Word of God to propagate sexism, heterosexism, racism, jingoism, or economic injustice.

Read Dan's sermon in its entirety. It is full of radical truth. It does not comfort us, indeed, it challenges us to be prophets ourselves:

Holy Spirit, put your holy fire not just upon our heads: Put it in our bellies. Put it on our tongues. Make us instruments of your justice. Make us witnesses to the true gospel of Jesus our Savior. Make us see visions and make dream dreams and make us prophesy that your Kingdom is at hand.

Final straw: I gave up on a goal today

I have, finally, given up entirely on being part of a Piskie (Episcopal Church) organization that was, I thought, congruent with my own views: equal treatment, all the sacraments for all the baptized, that sort of thing. Today was the last straw, and it was only a straw that did it, although the tipping point was reached a bit earlier. Here's the history of my disenchantment with a group I thought I could be a part of, not realizing they had their own internal rules.

In 2007, I consented to helping re-form the local chapter. I consented to co-chairing the chapter. When most of the organizers promptly bailed out after the chapter was formed, I consented to chairing the chapter. Help from the membership was not present.

Help from the National organization was, in Kelvin numbers, in the single digits. They sent pitiful tracts, in quality and quantity, for the table at Diocesan Convention. Communication and support, in Kelvin numbers, brought the numbers lower, not higher. This was truly a wilderness experience. As Convener, I should have the privilege of delegating authority, but there was no one who would step forward and help out.

Fast forward to 2011. With a new burst of energy from our newly-elected Convener and a grant from the national organization, we planned, organized and executed a film festival, in two venues, South Side and North Side. National accepted our plan and sent us a 50% advance on the grant. We did it. The South Side was predictably barren: our posters were removed or never posted, our 'net ads never appeared. The North Side received a better fate. Three or four ancillary groups helped us spread the word, we got help from the venue's press, and our premiere of Gene Robinson's second film provided enough spark to make the festival a success, but only marginally so. The festival ended in February. It is now May, and the Convener has yet to submit a final report. Without this report, there are insufficient funds to cover my expenses.

In March 2012, the national organization asked me to represent them at a two-day meeting of a delegation headed for our triennial General Convention: set up a table, network, schmooze, help out, whatever: represent the organization. I did this, willingly, cheerfully.

Now, here we are approaching our General Convention. The national organization asked for volunteers, and I responded immediately. Less than two weeks ago, I received a form email stating that I was not selected to represent the organization.

Oh, yes, the final straw? The Tiger Lady of the organization runs a blog. I submitted a response to one of her posts this morning. It probably wasn't as weighty as it could have been, but I put some time and energy into it, nonetheless. She threw it away.

Oh, yes, I have an ego, and I genuinely appreciate a kind word and the acquiescence of a blogger to post my occasional contributions, some substantive toward the blogger's POV, others less so or even challenging.

Too much to do to waste more time on these insults, I'm off to helping others treat us all as equals. It's a major task, here in darkest Indiana. I shall be busy. All the best to those who are overwhelmed with talent that you have no need of mine.