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Monday, Nov 9, 2009
As the world falls apart around us, the only answer is to stick close to each other.
Feb 14, 2003 | I don't know a soul these days who does not feel alternately numb, crushed and frappéed with fears of war in the Middle East, and the inexorable smirky march toward fascism here at home. We've never been more vulnerable, yet most days, all Bush has to offer us is verbal, bullying Oobleck, the green sticky slimy substance Dr. Seuss wrote about. The best ideas Homeland Security Secretary Pumpkinhead Ridge has to suggest are duct tape and plastic sheeting? Hey, Pumpkinhead, what about Gummy Bears, to plug up holes in our plaster? And Dippity-Do, to caulk up the inevitable tears in the plastic sheeting? A friend said that she feels like we're all terminal now, and I do too, sometimes. But there is blessing in this fear and madness. It is giving us fantastic peace marches, bigger hearts, great art and wisdom. When Warren Zevon, who is dying of cancer, was asked by David Letterman what his illness had taught him about living, he said, "How much you're supposed to enjoy every sandwich."
There are people to whom I turn, besides Dr. Seuss, for hope and direction. Frank Rich, Maureen Dowd and Molly Ivins come to mind. Funny, sarcastic people help -- Ann Richards, Fran Leibowitz, George Carlin, Garry Trudeau, Bill Maher. Laughter is carbonated holiness. And even devout atheists would have to admit that inclusive religious communities are also helping to save the world now, with sacks of groceries, caring, shelter, mentoring, money and clothes.
I gave a sermon recently to one such community, the Metropolitan Community Church, led by the Rev. Dr. Penny Nixon. It's a church in San Francisco's Castro district made up largely of gay, lesbian and transgendered folk, who in most cases have been cast out from their families and churches of origin. One of my best friends is a faithful member. And he got me to accompany him to MCC's annual gala in San Francisco, which benefits its social services programs. I've long loved this church for many reasons but I'd never gotten involved until that fundraiser. And I was so blown away by Penny Nixon's words, and a video of MCC at work and worship and service, that I'm afraid I became overwrought, and wrote Penny a note saying I would do anything, anytime, for such an organization.
Unfortunately, a few weeks after the gala, she called.
We talked for a few minutes about the event, and then she asked if I would come preach one Sunday evening. I was a little taken aback -- I was actually just being nice at the gala. I'm already quite busy on Sundays as it is, what with my own church in Marin City, and then afternoons at the church of the New York Times in bed with the kitty. I said yes; but in the interests of full disclosure, I started hoping maybe something would put Penny out of commission for awhile -- like, she'd get fired, or have a nervous breakdown, and all the speakers she'd lined up would be canceled.
But as it turned out, I found myself at the MCC pulpit one recent night. There were a few hundred people there, lots of same-sex couples, many enthusiastically gendered men and women and, I suppose, some drag queens in mufti. I hadn't known how to dress. I have a red velvet academic hood from the Episcopal Divinity School in Cambridge, which is a long story involving nepotism and corruption, and I was going to wear that, with my tiara, but I didn't want to come across as being a snob, who'd lost her marbles.
I'm not a minister, but I do know -- or am reasonably sure -- of several things, and I decided just to talk about those areas that might help the tired, the poor, the worried, like me. I knew, for instance, that most of the people there had courage to burn. What bravery it must have taken to come out, to insist on the right to be themselves, to love who they loved, to look the way they needed to look, to feel beautiful. The world tells us that we can only be a certain, specific way if we want to be validated, but the world lies. I know the world has a floating finish line that we can never reach because it keeps changing, and if we are not saved, usually by radically odd and uncooperative people, we can lose our lives in pursuit of winning. I know that we are in hellish times, but that the world is rich in peace and mercy and beauty. I know that there is one who has all power, and that it's not me, or George Bush. I know that every time I call out for help, the phone rings, or the mail comes, or I get that noodgey Holy Spirit feeling inside, and enough of an answer to take the next right step. I know that I need to let go, or I am going to get dragged. Letting go is definitely not my strong suit. Neither is forgiveness. In fact, they're the two things I'm worst at. Why couldn't God's answer be, "Why don't you obsess endlessly about this? Then try to control this situation into a fare-thee-well, and be sure not to breathe at all, and try to manipulate everyone into doing things your way; and then stomp away and brood for awhile and then eat a big bag of Hershey's Kisses?"
