Emmanuel's land #5

Emmanuel's Land

Emmanuel's Land #3

Talk about surprises, I found myself an official parishioner, attending a parish conference! This Conference was led by Larry Peers of the Alban Institute. I have some experience with conferences and their leaders. Perhaps I am too familiar, having worked for many years for an institution that designed them. I did the visuals, ad nauseam. This was before power point. How many clever slide shows can one tolerate? I was past my limit.

The conference was called to explore directions for the coming years and so I also had some question about the appropriateness of such a new member participating; but in this case everyone was called, and there was no choosing, they wanted bodies. I must also acknowledge that whatever my snide preconceptions might have been, I have become very fond of the members of the Emmanuel congregation, and really looked forward to spending the Friday evening, and the Saturday with them. It has been an enormous gift to me to feel the freedom to live openly in this odd little relationship with my "Friend" as I call Him, without worrying about my doubts and questions and what I call my "little heresies" making me an outcast from a hypocritical group. So I attended with these surprising people, and I want to tell you that Mr.Peers conducted the most amusing, intelligent and energetic conference I've ever attended. Those three adjectives are rarely found in the same place, and I extend to him my highest compliments, but the issue I want to address is more specific than all this.

Mr.Peers had very skillfully brought us through a process that began with the establishment of the history of the parish and ended in an agreement on the issues that we want to go forward with. It was rather remarkable that such a disparate group could conduct themselves with real intelligence and courtesy to one another. To me, as a newcomer, it seems that they were quite self critical. I will give an example. One woman when asked about regrets, regretted that the music program was not as uplifting as it once was. I can't imagine what that "once" might have been because the uplift newcomers experience is every bit as intense as I ever heard described. I believe she was a member of Emmanuel Music, and my identification as an artist tells me that like all serious artists she was unable to step back and see the glory of their accomplishment because her standards are so unrelentingly high. Since they get no applause for their playing during the service perhaps they have difficulty understanding their impact. I find it interesting that they never brought that up in this process.

Of all matters, the thing most interesting, and most telling for me occurred at the very end, the final item to be agreed upon for the agenda for moving forward. Was Emmanuel church committed to Christian education and formation? What controversy could there be in this for an Episcopal Parish?

I took a deep breath. I will remind my readers of the commitment of this parish to Boston Jewish Spirit, and their acknowledgment that the path to spiritual growth lies through a dense fog of questions and doubt. My single greatest objection to other churches has been the idea that there is only one path, only one destination, only one guide. It suddenly, and distressingly, seemed that my association with this parish which has become so very important to me, was suddenly on the line. "Christian education is bad enough. Every fiber in my brain sees that as dangerous. The whole point of education is to teach a person to think; to learn the skills that will enable them to reach their own decision after rigorous exploration. To restrict that process to one point of view seems like a betrayal of the idea of education. Even worse, Christian formation, a kind of programing that the post twentieth century community can only view as dangerous, whatever the intent.

My object here is to comment not so much on the content of the debate that followed, but on the fact that it took place and was resolved, at least to the extent that the word "Christian" was not acceptable, and while the parish was committed to supporting people on their spiritual development, they saw that while their worship service is a Christian service, to then take the step the proposition implied would negate everything the parish stood for regarding openness, ecumenism, and especially would counter the association with Boston Jewish Spirit which the group had posited as one of the things they were proudest of.

It was an interesting exchange, at times tense, very dangerous considering the emotionally explosive potential of the matter at hand, and a marker to define the intellectual and moral integrity of these people. In my view, and to my great relief, I can tell you that they passed that test with flying colors. This is an issue that not only strikes to the heart of Christian belief, but also at the very meat of our relationship with the diocese, this is after all an "Episcopal" church, and this parish has gone head to head with the episcopate before, to their expense but not regret. The issue was resolved only to the extent that it was tabled for further discussion. It was agreed that without "Christian" it would have passed. This was conducted in a rather remarkable way: there was no loss of courtesy, and those with strong opinions said their piece and and gave over the floor. There was a dialogue rather than a rancorous disagreement. Actually some said afterward that their was rancor, I didn't sense what I would call that, but if there it was contained in a very adult way.

"Emmanuel" means "God is with us." One of the features of our sanctuary is a great window called "Emmanuel's land." The reference is to Pilgrim's Progress. It shows pilgrims being given a glimpse of "Emmanuel's land;" a distant arcadian place with classical structures right out of Poussin. I've asked my Friend where that land is. He tells me that the Gospel of Thomas is correct, "the kingdom of the Father is all around you, you just can not see it."

The next question is obvious, how do we come to be able to see it? He says to me, " What's happened to your memory? You were going on and on about Rev. Werntz prayer for days, have you forgotten? Have the courage to seek after truth, 'come when it may, cost what it might.' Lack of courage is the curtain that covers the window."

When one of the members of Emmanuel Music stood up and objected she showed us the courage to seek after truth- no idyl bargain, I say again. And the participants courage to engage in the discussion was very reassuring to me.

I happen to know that at least one version of hell is a place with out logic, where the connection between words and truth is utterly broken, where life is a maze of hypocrisy and stupidity that renders one's hard won intelligence completely useless. I think this is why Job always held out, to do otherwise would be to surrender his integrity. I know that when everything is taken from us, but we have our integrity we have all. That is the lesson of Job.

So on Saturday evening, when M's courage pulled aside the curtain, I saw "Emmanuel's Land"

Thank God for that.

Emmanuel's Land:#2

Please read the first post in this series before proceeding with this.

I have mentioned that I attend Emmanuel Church in the City of Boston, a thing which I am sure will surprise various acquaintances. To me the inclination is no surprise, however, to have found a focus for that inclination has most certainly been a great surprise to me. Those of us who have attained "a certain age" will perhaps remember the Morning Pro Musica broadcasts of Robert J.Lurtsema; he often spoke of, and broadcast the "Cantata Series" of Emmanuel Music. Emmanuel Music was formed by Craig Smith at Emmanuel church to perform Back's cantata's within the context of a worship service as they were originally intended. I encourage you can read about it here.

One day this past October I was walking down Newbury Street and saw a poster on the door of the church announcing the commencement of this season's cycle of Cantatas. I decided to attend the following Sunday. I will now acknowledge a small oversight that makes me chuckle. Despite my vague awareness of the premise of the whole thing I was oblivious to the fact that appearing at the appointed time would require sitting through a church service, but in fact that was what started a series of very pleasant surprises. 

I was raised as a Roman Catholic but ceased being observant by the time I ended high school. I attained that status which was called "Culturally Catholic." I don't think it was my realization of my sexual orientation as much as my understanding of the presence of God in the world outside of the church that caused this. For me there is a great privacy in my "Spiritual Journey" to use Emmanuel's phrase, and I came to resent the intrusion of the authority of the church between myself and God. My relationship with God is frankly strange; it is an intensely intimate friendship. As one ought to be with one's friends, I am rather loyal, don't bother Him with petty tasks, we give each other "space" when either of us needs it, and I get very angry when people say bad things about Him. The worst of those people, I'm afraid, are churches of various stripes, and I have been avoiding them assiduously out of loyalty to my Friend.

I do go for the music, obviously, and it has been the case that the distance of the choir and organists has suited me just fine. I like to slip in and out inconspicuously, avoiding the smiles and handshakes of the "Sunday Christians" at all costs, and shuddering at the thought of Coffee hour. I know a woman in the "W Towns," knew her rather well in fact, who frankly admitted that when she moved there she surveyed the churches to see which congregation was most likely to provide good diner parties. I can't say that she made the right determination. I have been inclined to chuckle behind her back. Perhaps what I am saying here isn't all that different- I will leave you to judge.

I mentioned having been surprised that morning, and subsequent mornings. Perhaps the first surprise concerns the congregation; they maintained a balance between a little distance and a sincere friendliness. I am much more susceptible to a reticent friendliness than to the extroverted simulacrum I am accustom to find on these forays, so the reserve suited me well. Another surprise was that the members of Emmanuel Music processed by my seat, with eye contact and smiles, as ones friends might. Their voices reverberating in my head, I was transported, which of course is the point. This is very different from watching performers from a distance.

 There were the readings, some of which I happen to dislike- "many are called, but few are chosen." My Friend tells me this is hogwash. What kind of poor craftsman do people think he is that he would be making mistakes all the time. He understands about us, of course, and He says this in amusement, but still, the whole sin and damnation business is very hurtful to him. That's what he tells me, anyway. "And what did I give them those minds for? It was no intention of mine that they should be blathering idiots following any dictate that causes them to fear me. The sheep, after all, are much better sheep!  I could have saved myself a great deal of trouble by leaving it at the sheep if that was what I intended." this is what he whispers to me when I make one of my forays into church. You may, at this point, quote Jane Wagner to me. I accept the diagnosis cheerfully.

Well, He was keeping his little whispers to himself that morning, and I was filled with sarcastic curiosity as Rev. Werntz mounted the pulpit to expound on this old saw about behaving oneself. One ear to the Pulpit, one available for Himself- He is very amusing in condescending remarks and I hate to miss any. She commenced the sermon with this prayer:

O God of love, grant us the wisdom, the strength and the courage to seek always and everywhere after truth, come when it may, and cost what it will.  Amen.

Prayers are funny things. They may be "recited" in a formal way. It seems to me that the reciter forgets altogether that someone is supposed to be listening to their efforts. I've become so used to chatting with my Friend that I sometimes wonder whether that approach has any point at all. Or prayers may be spoken from the heart,"our Father" Abba, Adoni, dad, Mother of us all, whatever. When a prayer is spoken to a real presence it must be less formal, more immediate, more familiar. My Friend wasn't joking under his breath because she was speaking to him sincerely about having the courage to seek for truth,"cost what it will."

No idyll bargain that. She had my respect and attention. That was one of the big surprises that morning. In her sermons she turned that text from Matthew so deftly that She left me speechless.

I had come for the Cantata, and I got, and continue to get the Cantatas. My expectations were exceeded. The musicians of Emmanuel Music deserve a discussion focused on themselves and I hope to provide it soon, but now I want to move forward to this past weekend, and say something about this community that I have joined. 

Shabbat Shalom

On Friday evening I attended the Sabbath Eve service at Boston Jewish Spirit. Boston Jewish Spirit is the progressive reform congregation that shares Emmanuel Church in Boston. This sharing between the Episcopal and Jewish congregations is one of the reasons I joined Emmanuel; even so I surprised myself by actually attending their service.

I have been hearing my mother's voice: "you can not be a good Christian unless you are a good Jew first."

How she came to this I do not know. I always accepted her view on things and this resonated. Perhaps it was under the influence of her Jesuit cousin Father John, although I haven't heard anyone else in the family express the sentiment.

"Mom, why do the nuns at school say it's wrong to have Jewish friends?"

"The nuns are good women, and good teachers, but they are not free of the prejudices they grew up with in Ireland. Remember- Christ was a practicing and committed Jew."

I am reading James Carroll's "Constantine's Sword" In it he describes the ferment in catholicism that led to Pope John Paul II's pilgrimage to Jerusalem. In the early stages of that movement their was much discussion of the Jewishness of Christ, could that have been her source? My mother, though devote, was no theologian.

We were taken to Temple Beth El in Providence, were conversant with the differences between orthodox, conservative and reform Judaism, and went to friends' houses for Chanukah and Passover; even visited the Port family while they were sitting shiv'ah after Mr Port's death. My Brother was named Joel- imagine a little Irish Catholic cherub with that name. And he was always extremely proud of it's Jewish associations.

My childhood was filled with Jewish friends. Some of my best friends really were Jewish- really best friends. And by the way that is still the case, but except for the Bar Mitzvahs of my dear friends Michael and David, who were not found under a rock but are the children of my dearest friends, I have not been in a Jewish house of worship since my childhood.

Until last night. Theoretical reasons usually stimulate only theoretical action, and so I was dependent on a growing respect for Rabbi Berman to motivate me. His sermon to the Emmanuel congregation on the anniversary of Kristallnacht  was austere, factual, and incredibly affecting. His comments last weekend on the "Seafarer" were incredibly wise and perceptive. This was at a "Talk Back" event for Emmanuel Center. He and Rev. Werntz moderated this discussion after the performance.  I must say that while they have rather different styles, Rabbi Berman and Rev.Werntz are as impressive a pair preachers as I have ever come across; both combine a keen intelligence with humility and compassion- exactly as clergy ought to do.

So Friday evening I listened to my mother's voice and went to Sabbath Eve service. It was held in the parish hall, a small group, and was the most intimate worship service I have ever attended. Intimate, welcoming, simple and warm. I was struck by the similarity between their prayers and our own. We all pray to the same God, with very much the same words, from the same scriptures, and yet our communities have seemed so alien to one another. It is so strange to me. There was minimal Hebrew so I was able to appreciate this in a more immediate way than before.

The congregation was so warm, gracious and welcoming, and I look forward to new friendships growing from this. But what most impressed most me was this:

Beside me sat a father, mother, and their son. I would guess the son to be 10 or 12 years old. I won't disrespect him by trying to guess the nature of his affliction, but in his body and voice was clear evidence of an affliction of some sort. He talked through the service, yet his parents gave him only patient love. And the congregation as well- no impatient shushing, no critical looks. It was the single most impressive display I have ever seen of a group of adults accepting the responsibilities of love and tolerance that are the very essence of adulthood; of honoring the presence of this young man in the worship of our God.

After the service, at a table provided generously with wine and food, I watched him with his father and could only think that truly God was present with these people.

Shabbat Shalom.

Dressed for Church

Oscar Wilde once remarked that "the knowledge  that one is perfectly well dressed conveys a sense of inner peace that religion is powerless to provide!"

Happy Sunday- I was in my black and powder blue Dolce and Gabanna, what about you?

Moments Musicaux: AH!

Is it only for myself that the currents of coincidence play to an appropriate score, usually provided by WGBH, Emmanuel Music, in some very dramatic cases the car radio- and in one perfectly absurd case the ring tone of a perfect stranger's cell phone!? I started this blog this week to honor the anniversary of the passing of the "Mad Genius" and today we had Buxtehude: for the prelude; for the cantata (Kommst du, kommst du, Licht der Heiden?) and for the Postlude; Praeludium in G minor. the connection with the Mad Genius is that he was a passionate advocate of the idea that everything of value in Bach was inspired by Buxtehude. I can't speak to that, only for his love of Buxtehude. The music was sublime. Thanks to Nancy Granert our organist and Emmanuel music.

I particularly enjoy the intimacy with the musicians in this setting, the closeness as they process by my seat and their clear sense of prayer through their music.

The Buxtehude Cantata starts with a quintet for strings. After the first bars I heard from behind me a joyous AHHHHH! the intonation was so sweet and the sound so true. 

My thanks to Emmanuel Music.

Here I am again- on my own

Greetings, is it not customary to introduce and explain oneself when entering the "Blogosphere?" For me the former is much easier than the later! 

This is not my first appearance here, though it is my first effort at producing my own blog, and to introduce myself, and explain the allusion contained in this title, I refer to an earlier blog that had not a little popularity, called Lucubrations of a Mad Genius. The "Mad Genius" was my much lamented partner Aramis and I am Michael about whom he spoke so frequently. I am afraid that since his passing 5 years ago this week I have been a guest of Job in the land of Utz, but have decided to try and write my way out of that strange place.

Here are some things I would like you to know about me:

As did the Mad Genius, I live in Boston MA.

I am a man "of a certain age" and was not taught to type in school. That was the time before computers and even hand held calculators. Whoever would have thought...........

The consequence is that you may expect entries to appear at a rather sluggish pace.

I am, as you might guess from the other "Lucubrations" I am a very "Out" homosexualist (and a snide grammarian.) The case is more accurately described as society never succeeding in putting me "In" that particular closet; and I have a very interesting case of AIDS. I warn you in advance that I will speak on those topics; how could I not? To do otherwise would rob me of integrity and you of many funny stories. But fear not, these circumstances are not in any way oppressive to me. please trust that I view them with interest and joy, and hope you can do the same.

A closet I have been in for may years is the closet that contains the "Unchurched." Matters of the spirit and my relationship with the eternal have for me been always very pressing and serious, but as so often happens my meditations have tended more to drive me away from rather than toward churches. Alas I keep trying and keep feeling like a "Stranger from a strange land." But just recently I have found a church which is quite happy to welcome such strangers. Emmanuel Church in Boston is a subject I will share with you.

I am a man of many interests: the visual arts; architecture and design; literature and poetry, and science as it bears on the above and on the affairs of the spirit. The mad genius has mentioned my poetry- you will see some of it shortly.

I also collect aphorisms:

"Art without science is nothing"  L.B.Alberti

Interesting, no? It actually explain a lot about me!

I am endlessly fascinated by my fellow man. I do not watch television, and will tell you that folks often react negatively and even aggressively when I tell them that. I say sometimes that I abstain as a courtesy to my friends- it allows me to entertain the fantasy that everything they say is original; but the real reason is that there is nothing on T.V. that is half as amusing as life. You will hear about this in my "Comedy of manners"

I must tell you that I have my personal "Historia Calamitatem" (the spell check dislikes latin!) It occured in 2006, and is still a very difficult thing for me to speak of. As a result of confusion about whether I owned a building in town (I didn't) where the police claimed to find a "Meth Lab" (they were wrong) my house was was destroyed and I was jailed. It took a year to sort that out. I bring this up just after speaking of the "comedy of manners" because as terrifying as the experience was what I saw and experienced has changed me in such fundamental ways that it can not be ignored, and frankly is the source of some really hysterical stories, which I could not tell if you didn't know this!

Friends ask how I have survived the years since Aramis's passing. My answer concerns the two great gifts I have been given- a clean conscience and a very perverse sense of humor; they will take you far in dealing with adversity.

It is my hope and my intention to amuse you all, and while some of my subjects will be serious you will find my take on them to be interesting at least, usually ironic, if not sardonic. But then, it was not for nothing that the mad Genius and I shared so much!

Before proceeding I have a debt of honor to Beth Israel Deaconess Medical Center to address. It is my response to the "eye on the BI" advertisements that are appearing around town. Not my most amusing post, but honor calls- and those who remember "The Mad Genuis" will learn a little of his end.

Blogspot still keeps some of "Lucubrations of a mad genius" up, and I have it all on my hard drive, so we may return to parts of it from time to time. He will be as present in my blog as I was in his.