In case anyone is interested, my journaling days are over...at least for now. I am always good for leaving things open for further discussion. Who knows, I might come back, I might start a new one, and I might just keep things to myself, which I like better anyway.

Peace,
T

I was up late last night. I don’t know why other than the temperature has been high (for MN this time of year). I only find myself having trouble sleeping a once or twice per month, so it ranges from strange to mildly irritating, but does not plague my existence like insomnia.

Last night I was lying in bed letting old emotions surface. Probably due to the increased temps, I was remembering the (hot) summer of 2005, living in a second floor apartment at St. John’s without air conditioning. Even with the heat, I look back on it now as one of the most blissful times of my life. N and I had worked through a lot of our own inner turmoil during the previous two semesters and we were finally both in a place to make our relationship work.

At the beginning of the summer, N drove to PA with clothing that one of our classmates who had graduated the previous semester had left behind when she moved to NY. While it was hard to see him off, especially after the first positive turn our relationship had taken since it began, I soon began the process of moving into his apartment. I recalled this whole experience of “setting up a home” while I lay there in bed and remembered how excited and elated I was. The sun was shining, the birds were chirping, and there was joy in my heart.

A few days after N left, I flew to Houston for A’s graduation. I spent some time with various people I had had the pleasure of knowing while I lived there. It was interesting to witness that, though these people were happy to see me, I had made such little impact on their lives. I stayed with a few people and felt like more of a burden than a guest. I recalled how I had talked about fascinating cosmopolitan experiences and unique people and places to my friends at grad school when I first began classes, and how, upon returning, my world had inverted. Before A’s graduation ceremony, I sat in my rental car in a U of H parking lot, talking to N on the phone, telling him just how much everything had changed. The next day, on my way to the airport to fly to PA to meet N again, I sat in a park alone. I let the emotions of change come over me. It was a unique feeling: mourning the close of a chapter of my life, but excited about the beginning of a new one.

Last night, lying in the dark, I felt those two emotions again. I felt the closing of the Houston experience and the excitement of “setting up a home.”

We are having a blessing ceremony in June, somewhat close to the two-year anniversary of “setting up a home” together for the first time. I was jealous for a moment of those people whose ceremonial commitments correspond to setting up a home, how the world (or at least their world) rallies around them and sends them off together. It seems to make sense somehow. I wished for a moment that I could feel the bliss of summer 2005 again, tied up with the closing of my life as a somewhat single person.

As I lay there in bed last night, letting these emotions surface, what finally allowed me to sleep was the realization that I could in fact feel that bliss again.

“Mastery—of others and/or of oneself—is the definitive masculine trait in most of the Greek and Latin literary and philosophical texts that survive from antiquity. In certain of these texts...a (free) man’s right to dominate others—women, children, slaves, and other social inferiors—is justified by his capacity to dominate himself. Moreover...this hegemonic conception of masculinity was less a dichotomy between male and female than a hierarchical continuum where slippage from most fully masculine to least masculine could occur. The individual male’s position on this precarious continuum was never entirely secure.” S. Moore and J.C. Anderson, “Taking it Like a Man: Masculinity in 4 Maccabees,” JBL 117 (1998): 250.

Sigh...plus ça change, plus c’est la même chose.

“...were not tied to a very specific sequence of events, or to a specific date of fulfillment. They were fluid enough to allow for some adaptation. Moreover, the members of the community believed that they were already experiencing some of the blessings of the end time in their community life, where they believed they shared in the fellowship of the angels. The delay of the end was not fatal to the community, but the belief that the end had come may very well have been. The belief that God would ultimately intervene to put an end to wickedness was no doubt essential to the worldview of the community, as it was the source of their hope. But it was also essential to recognize that God had determined the time for this “in the mysteries of this knowledge and the wisdom of his glory” (1QS 4:18). The expectation of divine intervention required the tempering recognition that it is not given to human beings to know the day or the hour.”

J. Collins, “The Expectation of the End in the Dead Sea Scrolls,” Eschatology, Messianism, and the Dead Sea Scrolls, C. Evans, Ed. (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans, 1997), 90.

I am taking a class on religious violence from the Classical and Near-Eastern Studies Department this semester. So far, it has proven to be fascinating. I am not as conversant with some of the texts addressed by the class and students thus far, coming from a theological background rather than classics or history of religions, but even only having gone to the class for two weeks, the readings have been highly stimulating.

One of the texts we read was David Frankfurter’s brand new book Evil Incarnate: Rumors of Demonic Conspiracy and Satanic Abuse in History among some of his other work. His chief argument seems to be around the way religion creates, manages, and controls evil in the community where that religion encompasses the dominant ideology. While the content and examples he uses are primarily History of Religions-related, his thesis is highly sociological. Thus a lot of theology could be done on the basis of his findings.

The tour of Frankfurter’s writings we have taken has illustrated the various ways throughout European and American history Rome, Roman-Christian, Catholic, Protestant, and American sects have labeled various phenomena “evil” or “satanic” and produced detailed accounts of evil “rituals” undertaken by outsider groups:
Pre-Christian Romans accusing Christians of infanticide
Christians accusing ancient heretical groups and Jews of the same
Christian “witch-hunters” of the middle ages
Puritan witch-trials in colonial America
Lynching of black men in the old south for “corruption” of white women
The day-care “Satanic Ritual Abuse” scares of the late 80s.
All sanctioned by religious authorities with little or no forensic evidence other than the word of their own self-proclaimed evil “experts.” These historical points lead him to conclude that these kinds of evil are constructed and incarnated by a kind of coercion by the experts.

I was hesitant to include religious sanctioned violence against GLBT people in this, simply because it was nowhere in his work. It seemed obvious to me, since GLBT people tread the social and “moral” boundaries. Also, I want to think that contemporary theology has moved beyond a simple labeling of our fears and displeasures as evil and a subsequent violent response to annihilate that evil. But today I read the quote from the mayor of Moscow, Yuri Luzhkov: “Last year, Moscow came under unprecedented pressure to sanction the gay parade, which cannot be called anything other than satanic.” If somehow GLBTs can be equated with satanic and evil ritual, the reigning religion or institution can sanction violence against them.

I hope that we are in a time, theologically, that religious leaders can publicly refute comments like this.

On Saturday, N and I met friends at the Minnesota Science Museum to see a new exhibit called Race – Are we so different? and I was struck by a number of things.

First and foremost, it challenged distinction between people based on color. It asks, or more accurately, rubs in your face the question of whether we can even say that “race” is a phenomenon that exists in the nature of the human species or if it is a social construct. I remembered back to a guest lecturer we had in the chemistry department at Concordia who said, “Genetically speaking, race doesn’t exist.” This idea was essentially the subject of this little exhibit, which was tackled not only from a scientific perspective, i.e. through genetic diversity, but from psychological/sociological, political, cultural, and historical perspectives as well.

Does the exhibit answer the question? Not really. Something so interdisciplinary and well thought out is rightly not some kind of oracle but a teacher who asks its students the question, to think about it.

I was also struck by the multimedia used. At first I saw a lot of TV screens and I thought, what’s this world coming to? Do we not do these things so as to leave the TV at home? (Call me old-fashioned…) But what these screens provide is the opportunity for people to explain their interactions with race for themselves. It’s one thing to see slaves’ shackles and assent to the mistakes in our past and say, “Wasn’t slavery horrible?” But it’s quite another to listen to someone speak about their experiences of racism alive and well in today’s world, to take in a different perspective rather than simply look at artifacts or timelines and pass judgment and pontificate for yourself.

In short, I’m glad that I live in a world that is at least open to being colorblind. N and I had the same thought: now all they need is to make one on gender! We discussed this within our little group on the way to the cars and decided that the world was probably not ready for that yet.

I’ve been reading Jeffrey Eugenides’ Middlesex, a Pulitzer Prize-winning book that deals directly with GLBT issues. The backdrop has the “great American novel” feel, as the narrator steps through American history starting with a family’s immigration narrative and a subsequent social climbing through the course of the twentieth century. However, there is a certain shift in the story when the narrator, who is intersexed, comes of age and sees huge grey areas in sex, gender, and life in general. It comes as a direct conflict with society’s preference to keep things black and white, ordered and predictable.

The triumph of the main character (the narrator) is a radical break from the rest of society rather than an expected propagation of it (as it would be in the great American novel).

And so it is with our people; so it is with any oppressed minority.

I fear that the question that is constantly pouring out of the majority out there is “why would you not want to assimilate?”
Ethnic minorities are begged to assimilate into the white-dominated socio-economic communities and systems.
Women must act like men to succeed in politics and in the workplace.
Religious minorities must look like and share values in common with Christians.
Gays and Lesbians must have one partner and get married like straight couples.
The intersexed must choose one gender or the other (M or F).

I am glad that this book found its way to the popular scene. I’m happy that ideas like these are finding their way into the mainstream. Maybe some minds will be changed and some new questions will be raised.

The Aristotelian notion of pedagogy is paraphrased: the teacher occupies a certain space as mediator between the student and the knowledge/wisdom sought. The success of teachers is their ability to move the students such that they stand beside each other, teachers and students together, before “that which is sought.”

I wonder if this is the place I’m heading to in my life. That is, starting to stand with the “teachers” and commingle, think, and debate.

I wonder too if “that which is sought,” reasons, systems, and order, is starting to reorganize and commingle as well.

As I’ve plodded along in learning, I’ve noticed the variety of things that I have studied since birth have blurred more and more together. Arguments coming from fields like physics, sociology, and art have all begun to take on similar frequencies and currents. (Sometimes I wonder if our attempts to categorize everything in the second millennia C.E. have been somewhat in vain if we are to muddle or tear down all the barriers in our classification system in the third!)

Have I changed? Has life around me changed?

As I stand up and commingle, and catch a closer glimpse of “that which is sought,” I am beginning to see a mirror: I see ourselves, doing what we do. It is frustrating...though expected, I'll admit.

I think Sr. Joan gets how dehumanizing the Hussein execution was, how farcical the situation and trial are, and most importantly, how the whole thing is a big, black and white symbol of how morally reprehensible our actions have been. Our administration sets the standard, acting as a primary role-model for the nation…and now it has legitimized violence. WE have legitimized violence, placing ourselves on the judgment seat.

I find myself increasingly upset with society’s materialism. It’s the Holiday season, and so it becomes even more obvious this time of year. It seems to me that there is this image that is portrayed in the media: a wealthy, European-American, unattached and unbound to anything but “taste.” It is a fickle taste, that no single person or agency can monopolize, but to him who has it, the whole world is directed. All aspects of the media attempt to appeal to this taste, pouring money into advertising and the fine art of creating a need. And what is needed is precisely what can be acquired at a monetary cost. The sad part is that we are buying it. I look around my world and I notice that people’s bodies are adorned with the latest styles, their handbags brim with the latest gadgets. And while for some, these “needs” are met with a quick swipe of the card, others who are seduced by the same media ploy do not have the money, should not make the transaction, but do for the sake of “taste.”

The unspoken message and fallout is the deleterious effect this all has on relationships and what is, I think, true human need. We are taught to secretly resent relationships because they are messy and thus distasteful. Friends are those who applaud your purchases and greed, family are those who help you buy things to make yourself more tasteful.

My Christology professor used to use mathematical allegories to explain Christological concepts. Last week, I came up with one of my own: I remember as an undergraduate working through scientific or math problems by starting with a well known formula. I’d start deriving and deriving, using many hours and pages and pages of notebook paper. Sometimes it would seem like I was truly getting somewhere, and other times it seemed entirely hopeless. Then finally, something would click. I would get to an equation or a proof or a solution that I thought would solve the problem I set out to solve and when I went back to the beginning of my notes to find the original question, I’d realized that I had just derived the formula with which I started—the given information!

I told this story to the attendees at the graduation banquet the other night. I told them that it mirrored my St. John’s experience. I started with some fairly secure ideas about faith, religion, and the bible, and through my time in classes, systematically broke everything apart and derived and derived looking for some “answer.” Toward the end of it I realized I had picked up ideas I started with. Now, however, they were enhanced with the learning process that occurs through all that breaking down and deriving.

I look at those root metaphors of faith that I started with…namely, the Paschal Mystery. You can break it down and say it never happened historically, you can reframe it in contemporary words, and you can twist it around an agenda. But often, in the breaking of the bread, truth and love pours out and you are pulled ever closer. Those metaphors return and you can find nothing but awe and humility.

I do not know where to go next. I am finding that I have been revived from being “burnt out” on Theology. It may have corresponded to rediscovering those old metaphors; it may just be a fear of stagnating. The more I look at my present situation (job) and how meaningless it is to me when I’m no longer in grad school, the more I want to jump onto the next passing train.

The night after the grad banquet, we were having dinner with my parents, my mom’s friends S, N, and M. After a few bottles of wine, beer, and most of a bottle of Bailey’s, we were all talking theology (isn’t that how it always happens?) And I realized a spark of enthusiasm coming over me, rather than one of despair, as it often had during the grad school experience. We were talking about real pastoral ideas; we were focusing on the application and not only the theory.

The following day, N and I flew to Washington and on Sunday went to the Smithsonian for the “In the Beginning” exhibit of “Bibles before 1000” at the Sackler Gallery. Historical exhibits, when they are presented by museums and not simply in a Library or Archive, are accompanied by a certain bias. I was impressed with the bias used at this exhibit. There was an extreme variety of eastern and western texts, as well as an arrangement examining the development of the bible as the church’s book. Of particular interest was the presentation of “Bible as Icon” that probably would not be caught by all visitors: the Bible is a symbol and a sacrament embodying the truth it signifies.

Since coming home, my mind has been awash with all these ideas and I’m finding that I have something to say, something that St. John’s said to me, but I feel that it’s worth repeating. I may need a stronger voice to say it in.

N and I went to a National Coming Out Day liturgy at St. Mark’s. It occasioned a kind of a culmination of some of the thoughts I’ve been having recently. It has to do with understanding religion and sexuality both at odds with each other and then re-integrated. Sometimes things have to be taken apart, understood separately, and then rebuilt. It all makes me envy those for whom these questions are all answered from the beginning, those who never have dismantle their life in order to save it.

I’ve been questioning my religion for a while now. I grew up in a Lutheran church that was founded at about the same time that the Evangelical Lutheran Church of America was organized from its constituent branches. I followed a relatively narrow but somewhat orthodox version of the liturgy until the congregation began to meander off in its own direction. I did not follow. I started going to Roman Catholic Church through college until I stumbled upon “the Lutheran church of my childhood” when I lived in Houston. It was honestly much, much better and more mature than what even the memory my childhood contained, but it resonated with my sensibilities and even spoke to me in a new way. I went to St. John’s for graduate school, staying true to my sensibilities, and through my years there found myself fumbling into a liberal-though-cultic, secular humanism mentality; through coursework and meditation I articulated a very low Christology and a theological minimalism, while maintaining an interest and appreciation for the finer points of liturgy and biblical studies.

I have also been questioning my masculinity lately, since it’s kind of in style. I was born with male features, given a male name, raised as a boy. When I was in elementary school, sometimes other classmates and a few adults mistook me for a girl. I wasn’t so much offended as I was just confused. I didn’t know why they mistook me when everyone else did not. That changed soon enough, in part by my own design (losing weight, paying more attention to my own mannerisms), but also thanks to the hormone surge of adolescence. Oddly (or maybe not!) I never questioned my own “masculinity” for years after that. More recently, as sex drive has relaxed and I’ve gotten into touch with people like Kate Bornstein and Leslie Feinberg, I’m growing more comfortable with the fluidity of gender, and how it is as much an act as it is an ontology.

The above is very personal and introspective, I’m also interested in the theoretical. How does this substantive identity function in categories of religion and sexuality?

Pulling the lens out a little and looking at how I view self-identification as a principle, I find a sharper tension. In Christianity, one’s identity is not accomplished in isolation or by reflection on a personal level. One’s identity is always that of a member incorporate in the Body of Christ. In baptism one enters into the Christian community, and finds identity within the context of that communion in the church through the word and sacraments, receiving and remembering what is, for all members, a common past as a present reality for the future of the whole people. Identity is a communal reality, and without the community there is no identity.

Some years ago, I had the audacity to start telling people I was gay. It was the beginning of a process of claiming what identity meant to me and in some way what that had meant all along. For me in my situation, it wasn’t a very big deal. For some, however, it results in trauma in a great many relationships. I want to think specifically about how it often invokes a response like “how could you do this to me?” Coming out is, for some, taking stock in your individual identity, seeking personal integrity and authenticity at the expense of relationships and community.

I think that the above two concepts are in tension. One can look at the wider implications of the communal reality of Christianity and call the community “Israel” or “Humanity” or “Nature” and change out the Christian language: we exist in a kind of network of love and care, devoted as we are to the well-being of our whole community (well, in theory). Pairing that with the individualistic struggle for identity and freedom leads one to question the priority of either identity or community as one is often at the expense of the other.

Sometimes I think it’s just a matter of one’s point of view: Community identity could be a “from the top-down” view and individual identity could be a “from the bottom-up” view. But for some, like the former Roman Catholic Priest who spoke about his journey through faith, sexuality, becoming a priest, leaving the priesthood, leaving the church, and coming to St. Mark’s, this split between community and individual identities is severe and at times it looks like there’s no chance of reintegration. For me these things start to come together when I have brief awakenings to the presence of God, that Spirit of love that binds creation. The NCOD liturgy (and indeed the congregation in general) was trying to reconstruct what community means in terms of that love, not merely or exclusively sensibilities. (During Pride this year, we attended a Pride liturgy at St. Mark’s and I found that it was very much based on “sensibilities;” and, while inclusion was very much a priority, formality and gesture seemed to be an overwhelmingly dominant theme.)

There’s a lot to be said for identity congruency. When we’re born and grow up we have all these identities that draw skew lines all over the place. Perhaps maturation is just creatively bending these lines—or changing the geometry—until they intersect. On these rare occasions when I see sensibilities, individuality, cooperative human community, and religion intersect, I can lean over to N and say, “we’ve made it.”

Date:	2006-08-31 11:30
Subject:	Catching up
Security:	Public
Mood:	good

I am really long overdue here. Several things are going on. The first is that I am engaging in a busy fall. Work will be fine, but I am determined to finish the one grad paper I have left to finish, read my comp’s books, and take comprehensive exams in December. I am enrolled in the general LGBT studies course at the U, simply to get in touch with what these courses are like and what sorts of matters are discussed. There is a whole curriculum and a minor in the subject as well. It is nice that they have such options here. Academics will be busy, and I am determined *hopefully* enough to make it all happen the way I would like.

The second thing is that N is starting to make noise about moving back in a ministerial direction vocationally. His upset with his family in particular and religion in general gave him no option but to put the whole thing on a permanent (or so he thought) hiatus. He strolled through various options for career. His current job involves a lot of career counseling, and having access to career tools and people trained to interpret them has pointed him back in that direction. His resume is ideally set up for vocational ministry; and since he was in high-school, it’s all he’s known. Also, more often than not, it is truly what he wants to do. So I am doing what I can to help him move forward. It presents us with a difficult situation, though, because of the lack of appropriate seminaries in the area. The nearest would be Chicago, which is out of the question as a commute. Others would be further flung than that. It is convenient for us to stay here, with a house, jobs, friends, and family so local. The option exists to continue at St. John’s for an M.Div., but the environment and concerns of the community may be inappropriate for N. We’re still grappling for ideals, but I don’t think either of us is losing any sleep…yet.

We’re also planning to have a “wedding” ceremony next year. We decided it was something we wanted to do for us as a couple, to strengthen our identity, and to expose our relationship to our family, friends, and community as something more concrete. It also provides a convenient excuse to have a party and see lots of old (and new) friends. Hopefully the two of us, disorderly and disorganized, can get it together. We have set a date at St. Mark’s, and they have been nothing but warm and have dealt with us as a normal couple. We’re very excited, but in some ways it almost feels overdue and a formality. N told me the other day that weddings should always be a formality—you have to do a lot of relationship building before you choose to do something like that. I would tend to agree.

In other news, R and J are both leaving the area very soon. J is headed to Portland and R is going back to her native western PA, where she has several job offers waiting. J, as far as I know, is unsure about what he’ll be doing, but he wants to be on the west coast. I can’t blame him for that. We have been visiting with them both lately and we’re sorry to see them leave; they’ve been such very good friends to us here.

House maintenance issues are coming along, albeit very slowly. Last weekend, the old dryer we have in the basement broke down, but luckily for us it was only a belt that snapped, which was a relatively easy fix. We’re planning to fix up the finished room in the basement as a guest room so we can free up the front room as a living-room space. Unfortunately, the first step was fixing N’s station wagon, which thankfully turned out to be a minor fix. My little car won’t hold pieces of lumber and drywall.

C and H are coming down this weekend for their anniversary. They’ll be with us the first night and living it up downtown Saturday and Sunday nights.

Life is busy but good.

Date:	2006-08-09 08:13
Subject:	M&A's wedding
Security:	Public
Mood:	hopeful

Seven years ago, I came out to my friend M. Things were a little rocky at first, as I had feared, but eventually he came around. Religion was always very important to his family and in their particular belief system queer people really had no place. This prompted a lot of discussion about the meaning of sexual orientation within the context of Christianity. Eventually, I found that my friend’s mind opened a little, at least enough to see that I was the same person. He reasoned that the love of God was for everyone and our lives, however sinful, were not going to keep us from that love. I was satisfied with that and glad that he could receive me in friendship as he had before.

Several months ago, he called me to say he was getting married and wanted me to be his best man. I was flattered, but a little worried that I would show up with N and things would be a little uneasy. I wanted it to be known that I would not be coming alone before it actually happened so that it would not come as a surprise. I did not really hear the story directly, but I think that M told his wife’s family that I would be coming with my partner. Not really knowing what to expect for the response, he was surprised to find that they were not fazed at all, in fact, A’s (the bride’s) aunt would be singing in the ceremony with her partner.

I was put at ease for the time leading up to the wedding. So last weekend my parents rolled into town in a minivan filled with my brother and his wife and my sister. N and I piled in and we headed off to rural Kansas for the wedding. The whole thing seemed to go smoothly. M and A, as well as their parents, seemed a bit stressed, but it turned out to be a very easy, laid-back affair.

After the ceremony, I was sitting with the wedding party at the front of the reception hall and noticed a room full of Kansans. My brother had been buying me beer and my whole set of ideas for the toast (silly anecdotes about M, etc.) went out the window. When I got up to do it, the above story about M and A’s acceptance of me came out. I told the crowd how I was scared to come to Kansas and be an out homosexual in front of everyone, but how M and A showed acceptance and love instead of suspicion and hate. I ended by holding up the inevitability of change in the way people in Kansas and beyond deal with the issue, praising M and A for being there for me and offering hope that they can show that same acceptance as they go out into the world.

Afterwards, I was greeted by person after person telling me how they were proud or thankful or otherwise happy that I said such bold things. I heard not a single negative comment. Some people ignored me, but nothing except positive comments came to my ears.

In days of such darkness, I am encouraged that a room full of Kansans would be so accepting!

Nearly two months have gone by…and it has gone quickly.

We are in the throes of summertime and it is what will probably go down as one of the hottest weeks of the year. The former Houstonian in me laughs because the high is only in the mid-90s, but it does seem very hot when you don’t have it every day from May until September. The flowers are wilting, the grass is turning brown…we’ve had to start watering.

N and I are finally done making dual housing payments so we can start working a little more on our house. We’ve started off slowly with little projects here and there, but eventually we’ll be setting our sights on the big stuff.

Back in May we got a dog, an Airedale named Winston. He came to us from a rescue network from a foster home in Lansing. He is 5 and pretty capable of taking care of himself. He’s well behaved for the most part, but does not really care for other dogs. He’s adjusted very well to our home and took to us very quickly.

I’m also (still) in the process of finishing my Master’s. I’m planning to actually get done in the fall semester. Part of me is still skeptical, but I think if I put my mind to it, I should have it done in no time. It’s much easier for me to go to class and write papers when my time is very devoted to such things, right now I just have such a lack of ambition. Still, I have plenty of time at work to deal with it, along with time afterwards for research and writing.

E came up from OK for a visit one afternoon (as part of a much longer tour), which was loads of fun. She was filled with stories about her new man and plans for the future along with fresh gossip from the school of theology. It was great seeing her again.

J came over for dinner one night. We caught each other up on things such as new liturgy translations and politics. He is still planning to return to the west coast. He will surely be missed.

The weekend of June 24th was the Twin cities pride festival, which always has a much more “state fair” feel than many prides around the country do. There are lots of kids, old grandmas, fried foods, etc. I worked for the U of M GLBT programs office on Saturday and then marched with the Episcopal diocese of Minnesota in the parade. We had quite a turnout: clergy members, straight couples, and even the bishop himself! We spent the rest of the afternoon wandering around the booths and relaxing on the lawn.

We met A from St. Louis, who turned out to be a pretty nice guy and fun to hang out with for a few days.

We met up with L over the weekend, who was down from Grand Rapids having a follow up exam from an operation she had a few weeks ago. She’s been cooped up at her parents house for a few weeks, and it looks like it will be a few weeks more.

Coming up…I have a birthday next week, and in a few weeks my friend MB will be getting married. Shortly following that, N’s sis may be coming out. She may not, but we’re hoping she does.

The risen Lord enters the invisible presence of God in order to be present at all times and in all places to the church and to the world. Where shall we find the risen and ascended Lord today? In his word and his bread, in his people and his washing with water and the Spirit, and in all who cry out for mercy.

--From an e-mail message sent to members and friends of Christ the King Lutheran in Houston from one of its pastors.

The weekend stretched itself over four days, it seems. On Thursday, I drove in to work for the first time since we moved. I cannot say it is that much faster than taking the bus from where we live, especially since the cheapo lots that I park in are half a mile (as the happy springtime robin flies) from the building in which I work. Afterwards I went back to the car and got onto I35 and drove up to Duluth. N had been conferencing up there so I took Friday off and joined him for the rest of the week. We went to a work-related social that night. N introduced me to a bunch of people soon forgotten, and then we made a casual escape. We went to our room (which was a dive-y hotel connected to a casino and conference center lodged in the north woods outside of Duluth proper), and got reacquainted. Then we went out to the casino bar for a drink and some country music merriment. Our energy didn’t last long, however, and we returned to our room.

The next morning, when N was off to his meetings I went into neighboring Cloquet, where I found a coffee shop attended by the severest of German ladies. I was wearing a tight purple t-shirt and a linen over-shirt that wasn’t much larger…and sandals, so my guess was that the clerk didn’t see my kind THAT often (not that north woods people have a problem with gays! Quite the contrary! It’s just that many of them look like lumberjacks. Even the boys have been known to wear a flannel or work boots.)

When Nathan was finally done, we went down to Duluth and found our way to Grandma’s for lunch. (There’s nothing that remarkable about Grandma’s, but it is kind of a Duluth legend. Grandma came over from Italy and ran a brothel…maybe? Anyway her legend lives on in a Minnesota chain of Bar&Grills.) We stopped at Caribou to recharge the caffeine cells and then drove up and down the main drags. We went up the North Shore a bit looking at the old lakefront mansions. When we were unsure about what to do with ourselves we blasted out of town on 35.

On the way back, we took a detour through the St. Croix River valley, which is a great drive, to see B, my 2nd cousin once-removed, who lives in the outer-outer-ring suburbs of the Twin Cities. I don’t know if I have been to her house before, but it is a very nice property. It is lakeside, having tons of windows and multi-layered decks overlooking the lake, and has a lot of space. We caught up a little with B and her husband N, and they fed us snacks and wine as it started to rain outside. We were both pleased at how accepting they were of us. We didn’t have any doubts, really, but they were very comfortable and gracious. They gave us the tour and we went home that Friday evening. Lather that night, L came over and she and I entertained ourselves while N looked up Abba songs on the internet.

On Saturday, N and I enjoyed a quiet morning and then went out to Maria’s for brunch. We did some shopping and then found out that we were approved for an Airedale terrier from the rescue operation associated with their placement. So we’ve begun the process of making the house and yard a little more dog-friendly. We also assembled the gigantic bookcase from Ikea that we bought for the apartment. I maintain that it is a little large for the space in the living-room of the house, but I suppose it is good for right now.

On Sunday, we arose late and went to St. Mark’s. To our surprise, JG had returned from wintering in CA, so we had a chance to catch up with him. Later that afternoon, L returned and we watched Evita and ate Chinese take-out.

Overall, it was a very fun weekend.

“In my opinion the judgment around homosexuality and its resulting oppression and denial of one's true self is among the greatest deterrents to world peace on our planet today. When we fearfully detest any part of ourselves it is impossible to attain harmony and peace within and this results in disharmony and warlike circumstances on the outside. Whether it be bickering and fighting among our family, our neighborhood or our countries, we cannot make a person go to war unless there is a war going on inside of him or her. Wars on the inside are always due to judgment of some kind and homosexuality is one of the most judged phenomenon [sic] facing our society today.”
—Judith Long, “Essence,” Evolve!: Evolutionary Products, People and Ideas 5.2 (2006), 74f.

“I think that sense of balance and wholeness has a lot to do with the centrality of Eros and eroticism in [Gilgamesh]. You could even argue that denial of Eros in Christian and Muslim culture is what leads to this moral fanaticism in the first place.”
—“Gilgamesh: An Interview with Stephen Mitchell,” -- -- --, 26ff.

“We are a civilization of 7,000 years. You are a country of 200 years.”
“Before the war, women constituted almost half of the college population in Iraq.”
“After the overthrow of the tyrant, shortages of fuel, medicine, and food got even worse than before.”
“Forget about the past. Anyone can start a war; only a few can stop it. And only time and life can measure the outcome of it.”
“Now we have corruption, damage to lines and power stations. It is difficult to live in Baghdad. We are on electricity 3 x 3. Three hours on; three hours off. Only a few have generators.”
“We need $7 billion to fix the sewage and water systems. That will not be available for five years. And the pipes are already out of date before they even begin to put them in again.”
“Some areas have putrid water.”
“Food rations got us through the sanctions. But now these are reduced till 2006 and will probably end then.”
“Most victims of honor crimes -- women who have been raped, molested or slept with their lovers -- are women and girls. In every case, the perpetrators are protected -- by legislation!”
“Democracy will never be done by troops, guns and random shooting.”
From Where I Stand, by Sr. Joan Chittister

I remember learning that Maundy Thursday is one of the busiest of Holy Days. Not only is it the institution of the Lord’s Supper, but it also is the washing of feet, the reconciliation of the penitents, and the consecration of the chrism. It involves so much that you are often left wondering what is really going on.

What I really remember about it from my earliest years is stripping of the altar vestments. This was such a dramatic entrance into the Triduum:
Psalm 22 is chanted, sometimes by a choir, but sometimes by a single voice.
The altar guild carried the lectionary, gospel book, flagons, chalices, ciboria, piece by piece.
Then they slowly folded up the vestments, one by one, and carried them off.
Sometimes the clergy were divested of their Lenten stoles and given black (mourning) or scarlet (blood) ones.
Finally, the oldest member of the altar guild carried a crown of thorns and placed it at the center of the altar as the psalm concluded. At the church where I grew up, a spot light was pointed at the crown. At my church in Texas, we were left with darkness and silence.

This year we went to St. Mark’s, and they did a nice job. N has been on the altar guild, so he was responsible for moving a few things as well.

The Triduum that followed on this particular year was not terribly meditative. We did not go to a Good Friday service, since we were both working. I would definitely like do a St. John’s Abbey Good Friday again, however. Last year I went and found it to be remarkably moving. The Roman church isn’t much for ecclesiastical celebration, but they do meditation, mourning, and contrition so very well.

St. John’s also did the Liturgy of the Word from Easter Vigil very well as well. Probably the best I’d ever seen it done. There were spotlights on the front of the stage for people giving the readings and singing the responses, but the rest of the sanctuary was dark. This year, we went to Mt. Olive, which was very nice as well. The sanctuary was completely dark, except for the light of the candles until the Gospel proclamation. N pointed out that the Liturgy of the Word was not as uniformly meditative as it was at St. John’s, but the Resurrection Eucharist was probably as good as I have ever seen it done. It was fully choral, with four-part harmonies and descants, as one comes to expect from Mt. Olive. They also had a proper Great Entrance, which I do not believe I had ever seen in a western church before. Afterwards we had champagne, deviled eggs with smoked salmon or caviar, and a variety of chocolates and other desserts. It was quite the spread for a little Lutheran church.

The next morning we went to St. Mark’s for the early service, had a quick brunch there, and went home to spend some time together. We had planned on eating at Christos like we did last year, but ended up at Everest on Grand (Tibetan/Nepali cuisine) for a late Easter lunch, which was fun and not terribly crowded. Afterwards, we spent more time together resting, doing yard work, and enjoying our time together.

I’m always saying that ending relationships is a very inhuman thing to do. Ever since the trauma with N’s mother, I’ve been mulling over this in my mind. The relationship did not end, but the prospect crossed their minds and it felt as though it would end. I suppose it featured for me the sense that connections do not cease between people. They can be ignored and discounted, but they persist at some level into eternity.

MB called me the other night with big news. He’s getting married! He also asked me to be his best man. I was flattered. I suppose it is because I never would have guessed he’d ask me. Okay, I can’t say “never,” but it surprised me. It’s not like we spend a lot of time together anymore. We can’t, really, living in two separate states. Secondly, his religion is of the brand that condemns people like me, and he and his girlfriend met at an organization following such a religion. I suppose he’s got just enough liberal arts in him to either withhold judgment on me, or with any luck, silently dissent from church teaching on this point. But in either case, I am happy for him and hope they build a nice life together. I will be there for him…as will N.

I guess that MB shows me my assumption that relationships don’t end is true. Our friendship formed us as people, since it spanned so many years and began so early into our lives. We are what we are because of each other, and so our relationship is not just a relationship, but a piece of ourselves.

Last night it made me think of other things, other relationships that from the outset seem to have ended, but perhaps continue at some level. There are always people that touch our lives in ways that stay with us, even if the bodies themselves do not. There is nothing remarkable about this, and it is nothing new, I just felt it strongly last night.