Forward

I sit with kids and adults in despair because the future terrifies them.

All I can say are platitudes- that we must pay attention and do what we can to move forward- that everything will be all right.

But will it?

And what is forward?

What is all right?

Is it advancement?

Is it simply moving into the minute beyond this one moment?

Is it moving beyond the political reality of this one?

Is it beyond the injustice, the war, the hate, the intolerance of this one?

Is it fear for my life because I am different?

Is it hiding my face for fear of being shot?

Is it moving into the basements and the attics because those are the “safe” places?

Is it cutting out my tongue, silencing my voice, 

Lobotomizing my brain just to stay alive?

Is it handicapping life?

Is it?

Forward seems to be the promise of freedom.

That nebulous thing that we’ve all been programmed to worship.

For everybody- even those we hate- and who hate us.

Freedom is the belief in hope- that there is more than hate and despair.

Freedom believes in the song of each soul.

And that it is not unheard.

And seriously, no soul wants to be imprisoned.

Freedom needs the brave,

Has needed the brave.

The gun can’t kill me,

The beating can’t diminish my message.

I am created in the image and likeness of God- and I will not be disregarded.

But is it?

Is that freedom?

Is there existence without anxiety?

Seriously.

And I sigh.

I wish this was more poetic, but poetry won’t save lives the way I want it to.

And neither will tears.

Only standing up- boots on the ground, songs on our lips, conviction in our hearts and an angry ,sad, powerful community that sustains us.

It might just save us.

And that “might” is the only thing we long for.

This is still pride month.

And I think it is important to talk about what that means.

How many of you have had to fight for your status within the structure of human society? How many of you have had to fight for the right to be acknowledged as human beings in this society?

Because we have a very low number of people of color in this congregation, and because we have plenty of women in this congregation who may or may have not thought about the fact that they have only relatively recently had the same rights as men in this congregation, I would submit that maybe it’s not something we think about all the time.

I was ordained on June 28, 1991. The 22nd anniversary of Stonewall. I want to talk a little bit about what that means to me.

I was asked when I would like my ordination to take place and I was still in the closet, but I chose this date as something that was significant for me. Because it was the date in which people like me were not going to take it any longer. It was the date in which a lot of people who were being persecuted and shamed and arrested, and held back, decided that this was because they were seen as inhuman, and they were not. They were not inhuman. And they weren’t gonna take it anymore.

I have watched documentaries, I have talked with people who were there, I have visited the places, I have had a drink at Stonewall bar, I have sat with people who found that night and the next few nights to be something that was completely transformative. Because it was about taking back power. It was about saying I am a human being. And you cannot make me less than.

As a kid who grew up in small town Montana in the 70s I never knew that I could be part of a community that insisted on being human. But I’m also very aware that in our Episcopal tradition that we need to respect the dignity of every human being regardless of how they identify. Does it hurt someone if we call them by the pronouns which which they don’t prefer? Then don’t do that. It’s simple. Do we want to hurt people on purpose? Just because they do not conform to what we believe should be? Do we want to put our own agendas on people who may have a history of pain with our tradition? It’s our responsibility to be kind. It’s our responsibility to be respectful. It’s our responsibility to trust the experience of other human beings to tell us how they need to be treated and regarded. It is our responsibility to be Christlike. And that’s what I think being Christlike is all about. People treating each other with respect and love compassion and kindness. And I may not understand, I may not agree, but how dare I question the experience of the reality of another human being. I can’t. And until you walk a mile in their shoes, you can’t either. Let it go. Everyone gathered here is doing the best they can to love and follow Jesus the Christ. And that should be good enough for anyone gathered here. And if it’s not, you need to talk to one of us.

When I look at the scriptures today, all I see is that David was destroyed by the death of Jonathan- and that Jesus was completely moved to tears and maybe more by the woman with the hemorrhage and by the death of the daughter of Jairus. The words of devastation have an amazing component of hope to them- and I can’t help but look at another translation of what he said to the people around him as he moved towards that young girl. It’s a translation I love, that’s not really in the translation here today, it is “Fear is useless, what is needed is trust.” I think it’s worth repeating. “Fear is useless, what is needed is trust”

It’s a reminder for all of us, we have to remember that we are not God.

And that God has created things beyond our imagining, and that our job is to be trusting and kind and generous, even if it doesn’t match our experience or our beliefs. Fear is useless what is needed is trust. I think being a Christian is much more about trusting another’s experience over almost anything else to bring us closer to God. Your experience of God and my experience of God should bring us all closer together. Even if it is a bit different.

There is so much fear in this country and in the world today: fear of “the other,” fear of losing a job and not being able to pay the mortgage, fear of crazy people with guns, fear of not succeeding, oh, so many fears. How do we confront them?

The psalmist’s answer is to wait on the Lord; St. Paul’s answer is to remember what Jesus did for us; and Jesus’ answer is to be whole. This wholeness, “holiness” in theological terms, is possible only when we are focused on the one who brought us to new life with a trust so complete that it takes away fear, even fear of death.

“Who touched my clothes?” And we fall on our knees and confess, “We touched you, Lord, for we are afraid.” And then he says to us, “Your faith has made you well, healed of the evil that swirls around you, free of the fear that is being proclaimed in the public square, released from the need to squander your energies in things that do not matter.”

So, healed like the woman who had been sick for many years, brought to new life like the daughter of Jairus, we get up from our knees, listen when he has says, “Give her something to eat,” and approach his table in gratitude, free from fear.

When I work with couples in my practice, I have a definition of love. “Love is a commitment to always work to understand the beloved.”

Not judge, not put on trial, not guage by my experience, but to look at that beloved person within their own context and try to understand. This is part of the Christian tradition. Our job is to try to understand and not judge. Our job is to be slow to judge and Swift to love. Because most of us are just doing the best we can. And that’s what God wants from us.

Amen.

The only thing I can take away from this weekend’s horrific shooting in a conservative bastion of hateful Christians is that people of faith think it’s ok to kill LGPTQ+ persons.

I live in Montana, where I was born, raised, educated and taught to feel shame about my sexuality. I was a Roman Catholic priest- educated in Rome- and my secrets nearly killed me. The shame instilled by society, institutions and community have killed thousands of us. To this day, as a therapist and Episcopal priest, I listen to the fear of young LGPTQ+ people who are helpless. They cannot move out of the danger zone. Their families do not have the means to run for safety. They cannot leave the schools where they experience bullying. In some cases, they are thrown out of “Christian” families who have forgotten that love is the ultimate authority in our faith. The terror, horror, anxiety and desperation hit me every single day from my patients, parishioners and community.

As a Christian, I am appalled, disgusted and yes, scared.

I am also angry. The “Pro-Life” contingency doesn’t care about our lives.

The Pro-Life cultists don’t care about reality.

And we are reality.

They are delusional.

They believe that we shouldn’t exist. We should’t love, we shouldn’t have community- shouldn’t be Christian.

Delusional. 

We’re already here. 

We’re already community.

And we’re not going away.

In my church, all are welcome- all are celebrated, loved, and we work to understand, not judge.

But “Christians” are still calling for us to be murdered. To quote ‘Hannah and Her Sisters’ (which I know may not be popular, but it is still apt) “If Jesus came back today and saw what was being done in his name, he would never stop throwing up”.

And I think he would also be disgusted, angry and filled with grief.

Just remember, not all Christians believe this- many good people will support us. But it is time to show our grief and anger.

This is not loving or compassionate. 

This is not Jesus.

For the love of God.

~ D Gregory Smith, MA, STL, LCPC

“And this is the will of The One who sent me, that I shall lose nothing of all that is given me, but raise them on the last day”

Thyrza Zabriskie is one of my closest friends. It has been my privilege to be intimately involved with her and the life of the family she gave herself to selflessly and fiercely.

I’ve been with other family members when they were at their most desperate places and times. And I want to say that I have never seen a family with such an expression of trust in God. I can’t believe that this is anything less than George and Thyrza‘s influence.

Because of Alzheimer’s I never really got to know George that well. But he expressed to me at my reception as a priest that he was delighted, and I will always hold that as dear and precious. I was also privileged to be part of his passing. I wear his stole today.

What I do know is I look to this family and see so many beautiful and wonderful and amazing things that I admire and love and support- as well as struggles and difficulties- and I can do nothing but give my heart to you.

When Thyrza specifically asked me to preach at her funeral, I was terrified. She said “Do it and go ahead and cry- that’s a gift”. So I might. And she said “do it for me.”

Of course I will try.

She often said to me, “everybody calls me a saint, but I’m not a saint.“ And I said “ OK, but that’s kind of what makes a saint.” She laughed. And if we want to go back to the basics of our understanding of Saint Paul, we are all saints. so forgive me, Thyrza, but you are a saint.

You brought people to Jesus, you helped sustain us; you brought people to love, you brought people to acceptance, you brought people to seek Justice , you asked people to contemplate things they may never have contemplated before, and I can’t believe anything less than that is Christian. And therefore, a saint. Just as we all should be.

Jesus made us look at normal things with extraordinary vision. And my love, that was you and it is you and we believe that is what inspires us today. You never did anything but love me and my husband Ken with anything but love, acceptance, delight and gratitude. You brought us into your family. And you loved that family fiercely.

I am sad because I am bereft. I am sad because my friend will not show up on the first Friday of every month to share her faith story with me- and let me share mine with hers. We won’t get to wrestle with theology and current events- and we did wrestle- we won’t pray together, hug and tell each other “I love you.”

But I love you just as fiercely as you love your family. I think you feel the same,

But I am also delighted. I am so delighted that this woman whom I love, and whom you love, has finally realized the end of her journey, which is, ironically, the beginning of something we can only imagine- but something we all hope for.

As Christians we have to believe that death is not the end. We don’t say goodbye at this point- we don’t look at people as leaving forever. Instead of goodbye, we say “so long”- see you later. We will meet again. We will talk, feed the ducks, pet the cat, drink tea and share our life experiences. We will yearn for social justice, and we will be people who love. We will be those people who will not let the shallowness and pettiness and the searching for power in the world, dominate our lives. We will not let power overwhelm our power to love- because of our master: Jesus chose the power of love instead of the love of power and we are to do the same.

I love this woman more than I’ve loved many dear people in my life- and that was her gift- she got in. She got in and she never let go.

And she was bossy, but we loved that about her, because we knew the heart behind the directing, and as Laura and I spoke about it, she did up until her death. She got in. Even when she had no words and we stared into each other’s eyes and I held her hands, she never let go. And I couldn’t either.

And that’s the point of following Jesus- we are to love. And that is what Thyrza and I talked about all the time. Do not give into hate, even with the people it is so difficult to love. Do not give in to hate.

We may think of those we dislike- but please, please don’t give in to hate- because God is in love with all of his people- even if we don’t care for them. We talked about this a lot- do not hate. That is not of Jesus. Hatred is Antichrist.

And I appreciate this woman, this wife, this mother, this grandmother, this great friend. This person here, this woman, who looked at the world and found things wanting, and did something about it- even if it was putting on a bumper sticker or filling the windows of her home with tropes of social justice.

If we all followed her example, the world would change. And by her example, if we all followed the example of Jesus, the world would have to change.

I’m going to miss one of my best friends. I’m gonna miss somebody who said refugees, those less fortunate, those who are poor, those who are gay or trans or seeking are just as worthy of our love as anyone else in the world- they deserve to know God’s acceptance and love. And she loved them. Fiercely.

But because of her, I am a better Christian. I’m a better person. I am someone who doesn’t want to look at the world and feel helpless- and I don’t. I pray, I get angry. I get down to the roots of humanity, and I bring Thyrza with me.

She once told me “there is always something to do for Jesus.“ Always. Always something to do.

I stand here with a lot of grief, but I am comforted with the belief that love never dies. The love that we experience in our lives lasts forever. And I know the love I experienced for and from Thyrza will always be part of me. And I think all of us gathered here, can probably say the same.

And that’s exactly what Jesus wanted of us.

Farewell, my love. I know you are exactly where you should be. And I know that I will follow.

And so will we all.

Amen.

https://www.si.com/high-school/2022/10/19/oxford-high-school-shooting-keegan-gregory-daily-cover?fbclid=IwAR3LvDlJkgN0kZ6kERlbjcETwJYNF-Qh6CeEQPJLudf6o7-SmCSzbFCCUZ4