So much has happened the past few days to make me ponder what it means to be a person of faith in the Christian community in the US. Thursday the ELCA released the report of a study that has been three years in the making, concerning how that communion might think about the blessing of same sex unions, and the ordination of GLBT people in committed relationships. It will not surprise anyone, I suppose, that the report basically calls for more time and more dialogue and deeper engagement, rather than suggesting any policy changes. (Currently that church will not bless same sex unions, or ordain people in committed same sex relationships.) I was saddened by that conclusion, although not surprised.

I suppose my sadness is even mostly not about the report itself, but about the reality such a report testifies to -- the deep disagreement that still remains within the Lutheran Christian community over these matters. Disagreement so profound that people in the ELCA have wondered whether the church could survive as an institution if it chose to bless gay unions, or to openly and officially ordain people in committed same sex relationships.

At the same time, on Friday the Episcopal bishops in the US are quoted widely in the press as issuing a statement of regret and repentance for the pain their recent decision to consecrate a bishop who is in a committed same sex relationship caused other members of the Anglican communion. They did not, however, regret the decision to do so, just the pain it has caused.

Such an interesting contrast. The ELCA worries about creating division and possible splits amongst its members for taking such a position, while the Episcopal church recognizes that its position has created such pain but does not back away from having done so. Yesterday there was also a piece in the NYTimes that reports about an Episcopal church community in New Haven, CT (near our old neighborhood) who have decided not to bless anyone's union, until they are able to bless the unions of gay people. That strikes me as a powerful and consistent witness.

My own church is not in a good place on these issues. And I wonder whether my continued presence there is hypocritical. I have tended to rationalize to myself that it's important to stay active within the Roman Catholic church as one who dissents, and to continue to witness to a different interpretation of Roman Catholic teaching. But is there a point at which such witness becomes counterproductive? Given that I also feel this way about being an American -- should I emigrate to Austria? -- it's beginning to feel like I'm spending all of my time dissenting. It's really fatiguing, and I wonder if joining a church whose core theology is in many ways similar to the RC, but whose communities here in the US have clearly been moved to transformation, might be a better option for me. Sigh.

Finally, yesterday I was at Alex's school, picking him up early for a speech therapy appointment and had a brief chance to listen to a speaker they had on campus for an Martin Luther King, Jr. holiday address. I wish I knew who it was (I'll post it when I find out), because he was both incredibly eloquent in his address, and also surprisingly honest -- at least in terms of what I usually expect in the public school context -- about the reasons MLK and Malcolm X were assassinated.

Living out Christian faith means, at least for me, caring deeply and passionately about relationality. It means caring for the "least of these" amongst us. It means recognizing and affirming and nurturing just love, wherever it is found, even if that action brings pain and heartache to others who do not yet feel that relationality. MLK had sufficient empathy to understand himself as connected to everyone, and to recognize that the causes he must take a stand on included opposing the Vietnam war. (Speaking of which: one way to celebrate his holiday is to protest the Iraq war.)

My gay friends have taught me so much about what it means to love. They have sustained loving and just relationships in spite of the opprobrium that our culture heaps upon them. They have parented children, and reached out to those who are hurting. Many of them have endured enormous malice from their families and other people in their communities, and yet remained faith-filled and centered in response.

If Christian community is at heart about relationality, if we profess a God of love, than what does it teach the rest of the world about that God if organized Christian communities steadfastly refuse to bless such signs of love?