I thought Antonio Banderas settled this one...

Wasn't this a (very bad) movie?

While it goes without saying that this theory will generate its own whirlwind of controversy, I have to wonder what is so bad about the possibility of a resurrection that was not bodily? Although I doubt the ability to conclusively prove that this particular site is the tomb of THE "Jesus of Nazareth," the possibility of its existence is not at all threatening to my faith.

I think only a very shallow faith and reading of the Christian tradition makes it's truth claims absolutely dependent on a literal interpretation and understanding of resurrection.

The Christian faith is about much more than literal facts. It is about a transcendent message that embodies a truth not dependent on historical fact. Resurrection can be true regardless of what happened to Jesus' body. It is the claim that death is not the end, that love and life can and do triumph despite the brokenness of the world in which we live. We don't need the evidence of an empty tomb to witness to this truth in our lives. We testify to the power of resurrection as it bubbles up through the cracks of despair each and every day.

Sometimes I Forget

Sometimes I forget why it is I do what I do. Yet, last night as I travelled back to my alma mater for a panel discussion of queer Christians sponsored by the Intervarsity Fellowship, I was reminded exactly why.

When I was at Williams I joined the Intervarsity Williams Christian Fellowship thinking it would be an extension of my own United Methodist Youth Fellowship. It did not take long to learn that while our high school fellowship was open and welcoming of all people, even non-Christians, this group was not. In fact, I spent most large group meetings going rounds with my nemesis, Mr. P, the founder and chief writer for the campus' neo-con paper that spewed hate on a regular basis. We would argue about everything from global warming to poverty to immigration...and of course, homosexuality.

He, as well as the entire leadership of the fellowship, made it clear to me that homosexuality was wrong and sinful. While I could "love" my friends (I'm not sure what type of love that would be), I was called to tell them to repent, turn straight and give their lives to Jesus. When I refused to comply with their advice I became the target of guerrilla prayer vigils where members of the fellowship would randomly turn up at my dorm room to "pray over me" asking God to help me see "Him" more clearly, to learn to follow "His" ways and respect "His laws." While it was done with the utmost sincerity, for they did fear for my eternal damnation, it was (as you might have guessed) never pleasant.

But I was and continue to be stubborn. They were not going to proclaim in the name of all Christians that homosexuality was a sin. It was and is not. I was damned if they were going to present their view as the one and only right view on the matter. I talked to my local pastor and asked him to come to the fellowship to explain why we were a Reconciling Church (open and affirming of GLBT persons) and why homosexuality was not a sin. I proceeded to invite all my queer friends as well so that we took over the fellowship that evening.

The problem was that no matter what my pastor said, no matter what my queer friends testified to about their own lives, no matter how much I protested, it fell on dead ears. If anyone in the fellowship had not already closed their minds to this notion of radical inclusivity and love, they were shut forever when the hell-fire-and-brimstone baptist preacher convinced them of this in his tirade against the "ungodly" and "sub-optimal lifestyle" of homosexuals that send them straight to hell. Somehow, in my mind, I imagined that at the end of the night the fellowship people would be the ones repenting for their sin of hatred and discrimination. After all, how could they continue to believe such bunk? Yet, it was not to be. After the comment-turned-sermon of the baptist fear monger, my queer friends left in disgust and anger, while the purported Christians sang a few more rounds of praise hymns.

It was not a good experience. Over the years as I would receive appeal letters as an almuna of the fellowship asking for money, I would always send back a note saying that until they opened the fellowship to GLBT Christians and affirmed that homosexuality is a good gift from God, I would never give them a penny. In over 10 years, no one ever responded to my missives.

So, you must imagine my surprise when I received an email from two of the students on the leadership team for the fellowship asking me and several members of CWM to come and address the fellowship on what it means to be queer and Christian. I have to admit I was quite hesitant...could this really be true? The young women had been referred to me by their local United Methodist pastor (Yeah for Methodism!). After talking via email, phone and meeting, it seemed that they actually did want to present an alternative to the turn-or-burn reparative therapy crap that is spoon fed to the fellowship through the national Intervarsity office.

Two parishioners and I drove out during a fierce winter storm over Florida mountain to be there in time for the evening service. After the two of them told their stories, I told the story of CWM; who we were, how we came to be and the stories of transformation (the good kind, not the homo-no-mo kind) that happened through our ministry. I expected a lot of resistance to our testimonies. I was ready for the Bible questions or the tales of happy ex-gays. I was ready for students to challenge us and take us to task for our "anti-Christian" views...but no one did.

Okay, that is not exactly true...no student did. A new hell-fire-and-brimstone-crazy baptist preacher (and I do mean crazy...the man looked insane; bushy beard and beady eyes insane) quoted Romans to me (to which I responded with a systematic deconstruction of the 7 clobber verses and a proclamation that the Bible never says homosexuality is sin. Thanks for the easy pitch, man.) and the "unofficial faculty advisor" told me no Christian had ever said they actually "hated" gay people (to which I answered, "No, they don't have to. Actions speak louder than words.")

The students by and large were curious about this possibility of an inclusive and affirming Christian faith. Most, both queer and straight alike, had never heard anyone say to them that homosexuality is not a sin. Most of them did not even know that there were churches that welcomed and affirmed queer folk. Most of them had no idea that someone could be Christian and queer. I was shocked by the response. How could they not have known? I guess I thought that Williams kids are smart. Of course they would have heard this all before, but they had not.

Rather than one of judgement and damnation, these students' response was one of care, concern and compassion. They asked how they could help their friends who struggle with their sexuality and spirituality, they wanted to know how to start a community like CWM on their campus, they wanted to know if other faith traditions were welcoming and how could they create space to help people understand that Christianity and homosexuality are indeed compatible. We stayed until midnight talking to students who were in the midst of wrestling with this issue, not just on campus but in their own lives. I was deeply moved by both their palpable pain and their indomitable hope. Perhaps the fellowship could change after all.

This is why I do what I do.

New Favorite Idol

So, it is true...you cannot judge a book by its cover. My early idol assessments based on their profiles were crushed last night as I discovered my new favorite idol...Lakisha Jones.



I love Lakisha! Atta Girl!

And, yes, I was a Fantasia fan too. Josh says my preferences reveal my view of Idol as a potential battleground for class warfare (e.g. my support for Antonella to piss off her privileged best friend who boasted about her professional training in their audition together.)

NOTE: Besides a new fascination with reality TV, my "101 Ways to Do Nothing" day has yielded other fruits...new boots from L.L. Bean, a full refrigerator, an empty(ish) freezer and the realization we cannot buy a new car or house.

Overheard at True Grounds...

"What got me hooked in the biz was that men actually pay me to berate and hit them. It's the easiest $150 an hour I've ever made. Wanna look at the ads on craigslist with me?"

True Grounds

Mr. Crepe is out. True Grounds is in.

After a really bad day at Mr. Crepe this week, I knew I needed to look elsewhere for a study haven. Besides the inaccessible internet connection, pricey food, and austere atmosphere, the table limit at Mr. Crepe was making me too anxious to write. Trying to figure out at every moment if I needed to leave so another customer could have my seat was wearing.

Yesterday I finally tried True Grounds. Tons of people in the neighborhood have raved about it...good coffee, nice vibe, dog friendly, etc. etc. But it seemed so far...(this is the part where I throw myself a pity party).

Turns out it is probably faster than getting to Mr. Crepe, has good coffee, free, reliable internet, yummy (and cheap) soups, folk music (no more "hip," cutting-edge dance music a la Mr. Crepe), comfy, warm spaces and a way chill staff who could care less how long you stay.

Yeah!

Check Out The Asphalt Playground

Mason Dixon over at The Asphalt Playground has a very amusing video up for all you who have trouble making sense of Christian theology. Mr. Deity answers all your questions.

Dates Gone Bad

Goat and Chicken's post on music brought me back to my senior year prom with its inclusion of our theme song, "Save the Best for Last" by Vanessa Williams. As I commented distant memories of dates gone horribly wrong surfaced and a new post topic emerged (if you have not noticed my blog continues to deteriorate as I lose myself in research)...Dates Gone Bad!

So, here in no particular order are just a few of my bad dates revisited...

• Hijacked! - Our cheerleading squad was no "Bring It On," but we did at times pretend to want to be better than we were. So, it was no surprise when one of the guys on the squad invited me to a local college basketball game to "watch the cheerleaders." Supposedly we were going to meet up with others at the game and take notes on the Musketeers' moves. I should have known it would be a rough night when he showed up at my house with an enormous, elaborately wrapped gift for me...a framed poster of Clark Gable from Gone With the Wind (to his credit, one of my favorite movies at the time). He then suggested we grab something to eat before the game. Disregarding my suggestion for quick take out from Izzy's or Skyline, he took me to a very sad, shabby Chinese restaurant where he made us sit in an all-too-cozy booth and insisted on paying. Things were getting worse. When we arrived at the game nobody else was there to meet us. Surprise. Surprise. I had been duped. As if I was not uncomfortable enough already, he decided to make a declaration of his love for me right then and there...at which point I could say nothing more than, "Take me home. Now!"
• Save the Best for Last - My senior prom was well, less than the best, to say the least. Being on one of the many break-up hiatuses from my high school boyfriend, I ended up being set up for prom with my best friend's boyfriend's friend from school. He was a lovely person. Very nice, neat, polite and courteous...so much so he drove me crazy. What I found most annoying was his insane insistence on opening every single door for me even if it meant sprinting ahead of me so he could reach the entry first. No matter what I did he refused to leave me alone. Unable to convince him it was time for him to go home, I resorted to hiding out in the vastness of our friend's home. Dodging from room to room, I would tell my friends to misdirect him so I could have some space (which also meant reconciling with my boyfriend in the bushes). While I managed to evade his presence for most of the night, I did not get away scott free. At the end of the evening, just as I thought the nightmare was finally over, he leaned in for the inevitable good night kiss attempt. I tried to be kind, but I just couldn't do it. I knew it would be horribly embarassing for him, but no matter how hard I tried to bear it, I could not. Despite all our friends watching, I denied him by grabbing his hands and pushing him away. "Thanks for a good night. Good luck with everything."
  
• Excuse me? In grad school I met a new student who had just moved to the area where I lived at the time. He seemed lonely and in need of a friend and so I offered to show him around. In hindsight, I should have realized that this would turn into a date, but at the time I just thought I was being nice. It became clear early on from his words and attempted groping that in fact this was a date. After an all-too intimate dinner, we headed to the movies. As we were waiting for the film to begin he said, "You know, I'm really glad you went out with me. Living with my wife and kids is hard and I need to have some fun once and a while." Um, excuse me? Wife and kids? As I expressed my surprise at his marital status and asked him what he thought we were doing together he said, "Well, this is a date, right? I thought you would be cool with it. You look like the type of woman that would date a married man." Lovely. And with that I reverted to my high school habit and said, "Take me home. Now."
  

God, I'm glad I'm married.

What are your memories of dates gone bad?

101 Ways to Do Nothing

Coming home this morning too sad and sorry for myself to actually read the papers that were being presented in Nashville, I set about do nothing. ..which I realize I am very good at, particularly when I feel overwhelmed by my research. (Have I mentioned I feel overwhelmed by my research? I have 100s of pages of notes and yet am at an utter loss with where to begin.)

Instead of researching or writing, this is what I did:

1. Cleaned the kitchen
2. Made Josh breakfast
3. Cleaned my desk
4. Cluttered my now clean desk
   
5. Organized my board notes from October to date
6. Printed off a ream of paper's worth of documents by Wesley since the %^#%@* electronic version I have SUCKS
7. Punched holes in said ream using a very outdated, rusty and non-compliant three-hole punch
8. Scattered dots of paper throughout the house in frustration, having to open and close the %$#^ hole punch every time I used it
9. Left said dots as evidence of my hard work for when Josh comes home
10. Obsessively read (several times over) every blog linked to mine
11. Was inspired by Ted's post on Tom Lowe to research each of the 24 semi-finalists left on American Idol [With nothing more than their pics and trite answers to tired get-to-know-you facts, I'm rooting for Chris (he's from Greenville and his answers did not bore me), Antonella (if only to piss off her annoying best friend who did not make the finals), and Gina (cool hair).]
    
12. Tried to buy a used dishwasher on Craigslist...but I couldn't find out the exact dimensions, get permission from the trustees, nor actually get to the woman's place to see it because my car is stuck in the ice and she lives off the T line
13. Tried to buy groceries through Peapod because my car is stuck in the ice (do you see a pattern emerging?) and I don't want to schlep groceries all the way from the square while skating on the sheet of ice that has covered the city. They would not deliver until tomorrow...a fact conveniently left out until I had spent 45 minutes shopping, carefully compiling my cart. Too late for tonight's dinner.
14. Thawed a "mystery meal" for dinner tonight. It is a tupperware of frozen red stuff. We never remember to label our frozen foods so it always a surprise. Originally I thought it was homemade chili, but it tastes more like a pasta sauce of sorts.
15. Thawed chicken in case the mystery meal is not edible
    
16. Discovered that although working at the kitchen table is the most pleasant work space, it drives the dogs insane since they think I am either about to give them a T-R-E-A-T or let them go O-U-T...both of which I finally caved and did since it was better than actually doing my work
17. Browsed available real estate and station wagons for sale in the area, lusting after each prospect with the knowledge that we are not buying either a car or a house for many, many, many years
18. Scavenged the kitchen for lunch morsels to eat. I finally settled on the end of the jalapeno jack cheese, the broken dregs of the salt-n-pepper potato chips and Ritz crackers (left over from the Southern Dinner we hosted). yum.
19. Browsed LL Bean for new boots since I am stuck in the house and can't leave without risking life and limb. Lest you think I am exaggerating (particularly those of you out and about today in Boston), you should know that just one night in this weather was enough to induce a panic attack of sheer terror in me. Walking to the T for our Valentine's date at OM in Harvard Square was so harrowing it made me cry. Literally. For the five blocks to the T I sobbed. The wind broke my umbrella. My hair was wet and frizzy. The puddles sopped my pants. And, leading to my hunt for new boots, I slid the whole way there in thoroughly inappropriate (yet fashionable) black high heeled boots.
20. Settled the details on a wedding gig for this summer. This is how pastors make ends meet
    
21. Checked for the mail at least five times...make that six
    
22. Made tea
23. Contemplated sweeping the floors
    
24. Ate more chocolate than I should have
    
25. Wrote a post about nothing.

NOTE: Mystery meal solved...not chili, not pasta sauce, but a rather bland tomato soup I made this summer. We ate out.

Sigh

After getting up at 3 AM, arriving at the airport at 4:30 AM, and waiting in line for 2 1/2 hours I am back home...grounded and unable to get to my meeting in Nashville in time. My flight was canceled not because of bad weather, but because of overbooking and delayed flights from yesterday.

I am quite disappointed to say the least.

Caffeine High

Note to Self: After abstaining from caffeine for a month, do not try eight cups of coffee in less than 3 hours...even if it helps you meet imminent deadlines.

After sucking down more cups of coffee than is recommended even for the most avid drinker, I found myself shaking (literally) and wondered what in the world was going on. Hmmm...maybe a caffeine buzz was not the best thing to help me finish everything before heading to Nashville tomorrow for a church consultation.

I am leaving at the god-awful hour of 5:30 AM to make it to the 9 AM meeting of the committee on eccleisology and membership for the United Methodist Church. My dissertation focuses on just this issue and being there will be extremely helpful as I research and write. Now, after the caffeine buzz pushes me through my deadlines, all I have to worry about is the weather. We are in the middle of a Nor'Easter here in Boston...let's hope my plane leaves on time tomorrow.

Hallelujah for Haggard

Well, hallelujah and praise be, ole Teddy's gone straight! That's right, after just THREE WEEKS of reparative therapy (i.e. not Jesus Camp, but True Directions Camp) , Ted Haggard announced that he was "completely heterosexual."

While skeptics both gay and "ex-gay" have raised concerns about such a quick conversion to the straight and narrow path after three (known) years of an affair with a male prostitute, Haggard's team of spiritual directors is adamant that the change is complete. When pressed with questions about how a process that even most hard-core homo-no-mos admit takes at least three to five years, Teddy's team explained what they really meant by "completely heterosexual." The quotation marks around this term are certainly appropriate, since in no way do they actually mean that Teddy is no longer gay, rather, they simply mean that his "choice is to be married to his wife and love her and be married to her for the rest of his life." Well, thank God he's not getting a divorce too!

Although many at his home mega-church had their hopes up that he would return to the beloved flock, news reports that he and his family will move to the midwest where he and his wife will both pursue masters degrees in psychology. They should make a lovely couples counseling team, don't you think?

(Trust me, it's all true. I can't make this stuff up!)

Overheard at Panera...

Today as I set about finishing the very long and detailed account of Mr. John Wesley's affair with the Church of England, I could not help but overhear the most bizarre series of conversations...and I have heard my fair share.

As someone who is only disciplined enough by the panopticon of public cafes to actually sit down and work, I often am privy to many a lunchtime conversation. Most have something to do with errant children ("sit down! be quiet! come back here!"), boring business details ("sales are up this quarter...blah, blah, blah...), misbehaving husbands (and I do mean husbands...my God the number of women who frequent Panera is amazing!), teen angst (particularly of the "he likes me, he likes me not" variety) and/or nutritional nitpicking ("this sandwich is soooooo fattening, but it is sooo delicious").

Today's conversation defied these common topics. At first I thought it was merely another boring business deal being done via cell...appointments were being arranged, times assigned, directions given. But then this part of the conversation caught my attention...

"Do you have a suit?"

Pause

"Well, you should dress nice. You want to look clean." (Like the "clean" of Obama?)

Pause

"I mean you really want to impress him. He is in charge of the entire East Coast. When you meet him, make sure you look him directly in the eyes. Don't lose his gaze because this tells him you aren't paying attention. If you look him directly in the eyes he knows you are serious. Really. Whatever you do, look him in the eyes." (What the hell would happen if you didn't?)

Pause

"Now if you are not serious, you need to tell me. I can't put myself out on the line for you and attach my name to your name if you are not going to show up. Your actions reflect my actions. I am getting you this appointment because I trust you. Do you trust me?" (This was beginning to sound much more cultish than business-like the more she put the pressure on to commit.)

Pause

"No, I don't know what is going to happen. If you dress well, and present yourself well, and look him in the eye, I don't know what will happen. It all depends on how you present yourself to him and how well you look him in the eye." (And now in my mind the "him" changed to "Him" as this mysterious person grew to the status of some cult leader.)

Looking across the way I discovered that the small team making these phone calls were a group of Asian Americans all under the age of 25. The men wore suits, while the women were dressed in jogging suits. Just then, another prospect appeared this time in person. He was white, 21 years old and from Dorchester (amazing the details you can overhear). At first they did what I might describe as an IAF one-on-one meeting, asking him his interests, his passions, finding connections between them and building on those commonalities. (i.e. "You like sports? Me too. We're very similar.") Group cohesion, anyone?

Then the team began to give this guy the exact same sell as they had numerous others via phone, giving him insidert tips on doing well including dressing well (they even made him stand up and turn around to assess if he passed), listening and above all else, "looking Him in the eyes."

At that point one of the women piped in, "Yeah, when I met him I was so scared but I made sure I kept my eyes right on him. You know if you do this right He can give you all the money and success you have ever wanted. He will take care of you."

This was just bizarre. Scientologists? Moonies? Amwayists? Or just plain shysters?

For the life of me I could not figure out who they were and what they were doing...all I knew was that something was not quite right.

Any suggestions on the identity of the mystery team and the "Him" to which they all defer??

Stella's Baptism

This weekend I got to meet my godbaby, Stella, for the first time. She is even cuter in person than in these pictures...and of course, intelligent, strong, funny, good-natured, fabulous, etc. etc.

She and her Maddy, Joy, were batized together at their congregation, The Church of the Advocate, a new Episcopalian church start in Chapel Hill.

You can't really see the expression on my face, but I am thrilled to be her godmama!!

Reason #4375 Why I Am an Idiot

Early flights are never fun...particularly in the winter when it is pitch black out as you try to assemble your bags, dress and get out the door on time.

Last week I as headed to Chapel Hill for the baptism of my godbaby, Stella, I was in such a rush I didn't notice what boots I pulled out of my closet...until I was taking them off at the security check in.

Much to my chagrin, I discovered only too late that while they felt the same, they were in fact quite different...one black, one brown, one square, one pointed. Lovely.