Monday, June 6, 2011
Jesus Loves Lesbians..and Other Sunday Blessings
I've got a bunch of friends who think the whole church-thing's outdated. But it's not today. My hand resting on George's shoulder, the other on his wife's. I married them a few years ago. I watched them create this life--second chances, third chances, glorious chances late in the game. And now I stand there with all kinds of sisters, brothers--blessing his life's last journey. Bearing witness to the vulnerability of every body--mine, ours, his. Believing in the power of love to see us through.
And then we move the morning downtown...to the Gay Pride Parade through the streets of Santa Cruz. Two of my daughters are walking alongside, waving at the crowds, carrying signs, bearing witness to what churches can be and can do. We are family. All of us. Nine-year-old Hannah beams, ear to ear, and says: "I'm doing this EVERY year!"
My faith doesn't tool me up with lots of answers. To be honest, I have fewer and fewer as the days roll by. But it does offer me these saints: dying George and loving Caryl, beaming Hannah and wide-eyed Fiona, a lesbian colleague preaching light and love, and a transgender parishioner choosing life anew. These saints are everything to me: more than answers, more than cocksure orthodoxy. They're dying and living, marching and insisting. Blessing on blessing.
Posted by Dave Grishaw-Jones at 10:04 PM