A very good day.

I am still (always?), just enough of an English Lit major to enjoy the strange way life is like a badly written novel. There are stark contrasts everywhere, and more than a little irony.

Yesterday, LullaBelle was confirmed, and I was officially received, into the church we have attended for the last 8 or so years. The Bishop came to do the service, and once again wowed us with a fine sermon. He made 2 points that really hit home for me. Firstly, that we should be about "doing that here." The "that" was a reference to providing food, drink, clothes and shelter to those in need. Secondly, he pointed out that where ever we go, we should be aware that God is with us, and thus, we should ask, Is this somewhere I want Jesus to meet me? If you wouldn't want Jesus to meet you there, then maybe you shouldn't be there, whether "there" is a physical place, or just a place in your mind and heart.

When it came time for the actual ceremony, I stood before the altar, my wife on my left, and the couple that were our sponsors flanking us, Professor Computer to my right, his wife the Doc Writer on my wifes left. Doc Writer suffers from MS, and leaned on her cane and my wife for support. Also around the altar were a number of friends and fellow parishoners. They included 4 lesbian women (2 of them partners). Of the 4, one is white, and the mother of a charming young black man who updates me on his ongoing attempts at hockey greatness; the two partners are parents and also foster parents and had their son and two foster sons in tow; and the last of the 4 is trying to become a parent and start a family with her partner. The Bishop is a black man, his assitant (one of his Cannons) is a woman, as is our new Associate Rector. The age ranges of the folks being confirmed or received covered at least two generations, mine and one older, possibly three... but I know better than to ask ages. ;-)

Be patient, now, I'm getting to the point.

When it was my turn to be received, the Bishop laid his hands on me, and said, among other things, that they recognized me as a member of the one catholic (universal) church, and received me into this community. Technically, what this means is that the Bishop, and the ECUSA, recognize me, a confirmed Roman Catholic, as a person confirmed in a denomination that the Episcopal Church acknowledges the sacrements of, and so, I am "received" and not "re-confirmed." (Sadly, the Roman Catholic church has yet to offer this recognition to the ECUSA).

But to me it meant something else. I recalled Jesus speaking about the day of judgement, and saying that on that day, some He will say He knows, and they will be admitted. Others, He will say He doesn't know, and they will not. I have always wondered, would God still recognize me after all the things I've done? So when the Bishop said those words, what I heard was another voice, saying, Yes, we all know who you are, even under all the mistakes. And we know who they are: your wife, your friend struggling with her disease, these women who are lesbians, mothers, and leaders in their church, this black man, blessed with a gift for speaking. I recognize you, I receive you, I confirm you.

There was a time, not long ago, that an upper-middle class white couple would not have received a blessings under the hands of a black man, and certainly not while standing next to 4 lesbians. There would not have been a tremendous "Amen!" and an ovation from the crowd. There are still places today where they wouldn't happen.

But it did.

Which means that I picked the right time, the right place, to come back to the church. A place that challenges me to be where I would want Jesus to find me, and also a place that says to all sorts of people, Yes, I recognize and welcome you to this fellowship.

It was a very good day.