Blessed Art Thou - If You Hunger for Justice

 Perhaps because we're into Holy Week now, with Easter so quickly approaching, I've been feeling solemn and reflective. I'm also still heartsick over the RFRA in Indiana, although I'm grateful for the number of friends and churches surrounding me who have asserted, firmly, that they believe in welcoming all who would come. 

In church Sunday, I believe that the Holy Spirit laid a passage of Scripture on my heart. It's well-known, in some ways, but I can't say that I've considered it enough. To be honest, I still think of it in the King James Version, despite having used the New International Version and then the New Revised Standard Version for the past several years. Pondering the Sermon on the Mount (Matthew 5, linked to the Bible Gateway chapter) feels like a throwback to MAPS Bible study early in my college career in the Mason basement, sitting with a circle of women seeking relationship with Jesus and fellowship with others. Today, I'm sharing this passage in the New Living Translation. Although I know many consider this translation less rigorous than some others, I find that sometimes hearing the Scripture in more modern English hits me harder. Feel free to use the Bible Gateway link to toggle to your preferred translation.

The Sermon on the Mount

5 One day as he saw the crowds gathering, Jesus went up on the mountainside and sat down. His disciples gathered around him, ² and he began to teach them.

The Beatitudes

³ “God blesses those who are poor and realize their need for him,^[a]
    for the Kingdom of Heaven is theirs.
⁴ God blesses those who mourn,
    for they will be comforted.
⁵ God blesses those who are humble,
    for they will inherit the whole earth.
⁶ God blesses those who hunger and thirst for justice,^[b]
    for they will be satisfied.*
⁷ God blesses those who are merciful,
    for they will be shown mercy.
⁸ God blesses those whose hearts are pure,
    for they will see God.
⁹ God blesses those who work for peace,
    for they will be called the children of God.*
¹⁰ God blesses those who are persecuted for doing right,
    for the Kingdom of Heaven is theirs.*

¹¹ “God blesses you when people mock you and persecute you and lie about you and say all sorts of evil things against you because you are my followers. ¹² Be happy about it! Be very glad! For a great reward awaits you in heaven. And remember, the ancient prophets were persecuted in the same way.

*Emphasis mine 

Some of these goals seem conflicting in the current cultural climate. It is a challenge to hunger for justice and work for peace. Jesus is the greatest representation of that - I think we often forget how confrontational He could be while at the same time seeking reconciliation for all to God. It is also easy to forget that our current struggles, persecution, and troubles, via gossip, political judgment, lack of civil rights, etc are nothing compared to the glory of God's kingdom of justice, mercy, grace, peace, and holiness coming, both on Earth and when we join our Savior in heaven.

I hope that reading this passage today will both convict us and lift up our faces.

P.S. I haven't forgotten that I promised a post about church-seeking, including the LGBT community in services, and evangelism to the LGBT community - and I'm still hoping to get it out in time for Easter. I just need to ponder a little more.

Normal Stress and it feels so Good

For those of you who have known me a while, you know that the last few years have been filled with more than a normal share of stress. The year Rebecca finished second year and we relocated to Wyandotte for her to start her clerkship, our pastor mentioned a survey that essentially quantified how stressful individual life events are, and then provides ranges of how stressful a person's life in general is. When we added mine up - graduating, getting married, moving, multiple new jobs, death of an immediate family member, poverty, death of chosen and extended family members - I was sitting somewhere around double the threshold for "very stressful." Some of these things are normal life events, of course. But piled up like that was overwhelming. And Josh's death wasn't a normal life event. Add in the stress of a same sex wedding my family didn't support and that wasn't legally recognized, combined with doing all of those things in the middle of the Recession, combined with changing providers and a med regimen that left me wiped, and pretty significant gastro problems, and well, to be honest, I barely survived.

But I did. And I gained perspective. So much perspective.

I just, this past month, finished my first peak season as a full-time test prep professional.  My "gay agenda" included lots of teaching, tutoring, paperwork, driving, student contact, parent contact, etc. Also eating, sleeping, trying to see my spouse, and . . . well, a whole lot of normal things. I was bone tired from working more than 60 hours a week. I missed my spouse because she too was working a lot, and not always the same schedule. I was stressed from the number of responsibilities. But really, it was invigorating. I was fulfilled. I was living the dream - making an honest living doing something I looked forward to. Making a difference for at least some of my students, I hope. My stress was for something that seemed to make sense, seemed to be moving forward.

And I realized something. This was what normal people (whatever that means) mean when they say that they're stressed, or "crazy busy," or tired. Not that their medication leaves them in a fog. Not that they wake up in the morning and realize that they will never see their beautiful brother's face light up. Not that they fear coming out at work, or having a health emergency while essentially uninsured, or watching their spouse be forced to go to "work" (unpaid) for more than 80 hours some weeks.

And it felt good. It felt good to be normal stressed and know that I could survive, and even thrive, in the face of challenges.

Power of Narrative: Take II

The topic for this post has been kicking around for a while, as some of you know from my last post. And I doubt it's going to take the shape it was originally intended to have. But it's my story and I'll say what I want to.

The winner writes the history books.

This statement is a cliche at this point. It speaks to the power of controlling a narrative, which to me points to the power that a narrative has.

Why, when we no longer encourage participation in the study of the humanities? Why, when we laugh at people majoring in literature, film, music, and say that they should learn how to ask, "Would you like fries with that?"

Why else have we created a culture where it is almost impossible to live as an artist, an author, a musician? Where those who choose these things are forced to take "day" jobs to make rent? Stories matter. How they are told matters. Who is the protagonist matters. How the plot is framed matters. How the resolution unfolds matters. There is a reason that Mario Vargas Llosa was both a writer and a politician. There was a reason that so many actors and filmmakers were blacklisted or jailed during the Red Scare. Suppressing narrative is one way of maintaining the status quo, of controlling people.

What story have I been thinking of lately? The Watsons Go to Birmingham. I don't know how many of my readers have read this book, but I suspect a lot. It's an incredibly compelling tale of an African American family during the Civil Rights Movement doing something that I would suggest most Whites take for granted - taking a family road trip. The considerations they must make along the way, in terms of where it is okay to stop, struck me, as a White adolescent who had never really experienced discrimination. I had never experienced anything like that. I didn't think I ever would. I was glad I had read it, but I can't say that I understood why it was so important that this book existed.

Just like, until 2009 or so, I didn't think I would experience the feelings as they unfold in Annie on My Mind, the story of an adolescent discovering that she identifies as a lesbian. I will be honest at this point: when I was assigned to read Boy Meets Boy in my diversity in children's literature course my senior year of college, I didn't even purchase it. No, I sat in the bookstore and read the whole thing in an afternoon, collecting sticky notes so that I could write my analysis later. This wasn't a typical reaction to the high price of textbooks in college. It was an attempt to avoid paying money to a gay author. To avoid rewarding a gay story with my straight, evangelical money. I still think there's better work out there than Boy Meets Boy, for very different reasons than those. But I'm sharing this behavior in case some of you haven't grasped yet how very anti-gay I was, until I realized that I'm . . . gay.

I believe that Rebecca's reaction to Annie on My Mind was that a book had "never spoken to" her as that one did. I have to say that at the time I agreed. I had never truly felt marginalized before. I'd been able to identify with a lot of characters in books. I'd felt, until then, that my story had been told, more or less. Then suddenly I noticed a plot twist in my personal narrative, just as the protagonist does, and my life changed, permanently, and I needed there to be a story like that. As a book worm, seeing a story at least somewhat like mine was soothing. It was comfort. It meant that I, too, could have a resolution, maybe not the same as the character's, but a resolution of the turmoil and conflict I faced.

Why is The Watsons Go to Birmingham on my mind right now? Because I suddenly feel that I might have to plan out road trips. Indiana passed a bill licensing businesses to discriminate against Rebecca and me for being a gay couple. They say it's about religious freedom. All I know is that I feel the need, now, if I were ever going to work an event in Indiana (which is possible - I almost did this past winter for my office), I would feel the need to ask the hotel I was booking if I would be turned away upon arrival if I showed up with my wife. I would be unsure where I was allowed to eat dinner. I would want to check what facility was hosting the event in a way that I really never have (sometimes, honestly, I feel like I work for the CIA - info is on a need-to-know basis). I wonder, perhaps, if I would feel like checking with my employer to find out if it is a good idea for me to teach there, even on a substitute basis. I would worry about going to my mother-in-laws antique booths in Amish country. I suddenly see my former straight privilege in a completely different light.

I'm not saying that I anticipate that my church will be bombed as one in The Watsons Go to Birmingham was. I generally don't fear for my life, and my concerns, I suppose, are details, inconveniences. For now. Unless Michigan passes similar legislation, which it is considering. But they are details, inconveniences I didn't face, until now. I thought that perhaps we were inching toward equality. I thought, perhaps, that the Civil Rights Movement had taught us something. I worry now that I am wrong. I worry that the story wasn't told correctly, or to enough people, or that maybe people didn't care enough about it.

I guess, for now, all I can hope is that sharing this story is more powerful than I realize.

Marriage is Hard: Marriage w/o Equality is Harder

Dear friends,

I have something like 6 post ideas languishing as drafts. I try to write them down when I think of them, to be fleshed out later. If that had happened, you would have read about my technique for Ecuadorian-style low-fat, creamy, satisfying, high nutrient blended soup. You would know why I have come to be glad that I was a humanities major, despite the number of people who say that was a foolish choice. You would hear more about my take on personal stories. I would be eloquent and poetic and convincing and positive. You would leave feeling that I'm just the right combo of . . . Martha Stewart, the Barefoot Contessa, Miss Manners, Ellen, and . . . I don't even know. Maya Angelou?

I have a framework of what I consider permitted for this blog space. It must somehow pertain to Michigan. It must fit the general idea of a lifestyle or opinion blog (so basically, anything I want, except for a place to share research proposals, lots of political links, or . . . nope, that's it). It generally needs to share something about me, my life, or relationships. And also, it needs to attempt a nuanced perspective that avoids overt attack on those who would disagree (I know some of you may feel this doesn't happen - but you should see some of the things I write and don't publish).

Today, my heart is not in telling you about Ecuadorian soup, or the humanities, or meta-narrative. I just want to share a profound truth that many of you already know:

Marriage. Is. Hard.

It's really hard. People who say it is easy have never tried. It's hard to share a life, a house, finances, food, time, pets, children, dreams, goals, blame, and everything else with another person for a lifetime. It's not easy for anyone. I'm not saying that. Please don't mistake me.

My marriage, if we were straight, would still be hard. With Rebecca in residency, I'm holding our household together, our social life together, our laundry and fridge and bathroom and kitty cats together, almost alone. That is a fact of residency, especially primary care, especially first year, especially in research/hospital-based programs. Those scenes on Grey's Anatomy where all the interns are at a bar together? Doesn't happen. Someone has to be staffing the hospital still. And honestly, the ones that don't are probably just wiped.

Marriage is harder than usual for: interracial couples, military couples, low-income couples, immigrant couples, couples from different religious backgrounds, couples from different financial backgrounds, couples with similar personalities, couples with differing personalities. So all couples, really.

And marriage is harder than usual for LGBT couples. It just is. Of course, we treasure it. Of course, I'm glad to live now and not 50 years ago, when I would have to pretend Rebecca is my roommate all the time instead of just at certain work sites. Of course, I'm grateful that I have a California marriage certificate. Of course, I know that this will likely be sorted in the relatively near future, against the will of many of those who live in the U.S.

But I would like to know how to set up my taxes NOW. Yes, I know taxes are a pain for everyone. The vast majority of people, though, know whether or not their home state will consider them married on Tax Day. I would like to have a drivers license that matches my married name YESTERDAY. Or months ago. Yes, I know getting this changed is a pain for everyone who takes their spouse's name, but the vast majority of people who do so are guaranteed that the SOS will process their paperwork if they bring in correct documentation, take their ticket, wait for their number, and speak reasonably to the person behind the counter. I would like to think that we had chosen employers based solely on whether it was a good fit, and not because some have non-discrimination policies for the LGBT community that allow us to be out, share insurance, not get fired for something that has no bearing on whether we are good at our jobs, etc. I would like to be able to move to wherever I would like without worrying that my landlord/lady could deny me housing because I'm in a same-sex relationship (yes, we're thinking about moving - and looking for possible roommies, if you know anyone).  These are things many people don't think about.

Marriage is hard. Marriage without equality is harder.

Denominational Division in the US Christian Church

It is with a heavy heart that I write this post. I've been delaying it. I'm not sure what I was waiting or hoping for. The pragmatist in me knew that this issue wouldn't be resolved quickly, or in my lifetime, or maybe ever.

That issue is the spirit of division, competition, and judgment between denominations and branches of Christianity. I remember even many years ago being concerned at the fact that my Catholic friends and neighbors, many of whom could clearly articulate the Gospel and were trying to live it out, were not really considered Christians according to what I've been preached. I'm not Catholic. I can't say that I agree with every point of doctrine. But I have met too many Jesus following Catholics to believe that they aren't doing God's work. The same goes for many denominations or branches I have never been, including Presbyterian, Anglican, Orthodox, and United Church of Christ. 

Why am I writing this now when this is an age old problem? Because I have been seeing news lately about Third Way (churches that agree to disagree on some tertiary points of doctrine in order to keep serving Jesus together) and gay affirming (churches that interpret the semantics and historical context of the Bible not to condemn the current practice of same sex marriage) being labeled not Christian. Some of these groups have filed amicus briefs in the marriage equality cases to support same sex marriage and been decried for not upholding Scripture. 

I commend careful interpretation and respect for the Bible. I am thankful to have grown up in a church that taught me its value and to have been involved in a parachurch organization in college that gave instruction in exegesis. That said, throughout the centuries, the church has allowed the beauty of the central narrative of the Bible - one that can richly inform us about the nature of God and humans and the relationship intended between them - to be undermined or ignored in favor of argument over details. Same sex marriage is but the most recent flavor. Eschatology (the study of end times), circumcision, alcohol use, and many other issues have been points of contention in the past that in some cases caused whole new denominations to pop up. 

I understand the interpretation of those who believe my marriage is a sin and am familiar with the proposed Scriptural support for that position. Obviously, I don't agree, but I am able to see the argument. Too often, I get the feeling that people believe that this discussion is intractable, often because neither side is willing to keep an open mind until all the evidence is presented. In some cases, the stances I hear are untenable compromises, are not clearly explained, or rely on cliches that don't advance the discussion or the Gospel. 

I hope to share a separate post soon on my church seeking experiences and ways to compassionately reach out to the LGBT community (hint: lambasting them about sexual sin immediately upon meeting them isn't it). I'm not saying there are no gay Christians. I count myself both gay and a Christ follower, and I truly see no conflict according to the teachings of Jesus. I am saying that many members of the LGBT community are understandably leery of the church. Some have remained unchurched because of past experiences. It is more productive to welcome them into the fold than to play musical chairs with those from slightly different backgrounds that we have convinced, one way or another, to change attendance.

If we believe that the central message of the Bible is one of a God who did not turn his back on humanity regardless of their behavior, and we believe that we are called to partner as a body to share that narrative, to me, the denominational divisions fade out of focus, like the background of a photo. They don't have to cease to exist, but neither do they deserve the same attention as the subject of our faith - Jesus.

I will leave you with a favorite quote from Salman Rushdie's Midnight's Children (yes, I see the irony in this choice of source):

Do not let this happen! Do not permit the endless duality of masses-and-classes, capital-and-labour, them-and-us to come between us! We must be a third principle, we must be the force which drives between the horns of the dilemma; for only by being other, by being new, can we fulfil the promise of our birth!

You Don't Look Gay

I'm still tired from our busy season, but even if I weren't, I wouldn't apologize for the truth bombs I'm about to drop.

I've heard variations of the sentiment "you don't look/seem gay" quite a bit in the last few years. This is often paired with the notion that I must be a doe/femme/lipstick, bisexual, or even confused. 

Most recently, a presumably homeless man I'd given change to and then struck up a conversation with asserted this so vehemently (along with some other thoughts he really could have kept to himself) that I feared slightly for my safety. All I'd said was that my wife is a medical professional. Judge me for coming out or for worrying if you like, but I know personally people who have been attacked for saying less. 

Yes, I can pass. I have a fairly idealish body type - slim yet curvy, decent butt for a White woman, and I can dress it "properly," whatever that means. I wear makeup with some regularity and would wear heels pretty often  if they were practical to teach in. I acknowledge that there are benefits conferred upon me for that ability and that I don't intend to stop, although I also acknowledge that others who can't "pass" are disadvantaged.

I can pass, but telling me so is not your place. I can pass, but that's not a compliment as some seem to think. I am no less gay for looking the way I do. Implying that I'm better or more normal because I happen to conform to your idea of femininity doesn't leave me empowered, piropoed, or complimented. In fact, it doesn't say anything about me.

It tells me a lot about you, though. It tells me that, deep down, you might feel that being heterosexual is more normal or better than being a lesbian. It tells me that you don't see gender or sexual orientation as continua. It tells me that you're probably over sexualizing me. 

Being gay isn't something discernible from someone's appearance. The only way to know someone's sexual orientation is to - gasp - ask that person.