At Convention: Fear and Joy

Last night, I attended an open hearing on the proposed resolutions on marriage that will come before our Convention this week. The dissenting voices (or those willing to speak) were fewer than I expected. I couldn’t help but notice that most of these voices were cloaked in some degree of fear: fear of what a too-sudden change would do to society, to our parishes in parts of the country where today’s Court decision is unpopular, to the reputation of The Episcopal Church, to our polity, to our theology, to our relationships with other Christian bodies. I can’t see fear, but I can feel it in a room. It is a low-lying shadow that creeps along the floor and slithers into your body through the feet, making the heart race and the mind freeze. Last night, fear, not passion or antagonism, wafted from the “what if’s.” 

Fear made a brief appearance today as we remembered the victims of the terror attacks in France, Tunisia, and Kuwait. Even in prayer, fear can hover in the corners. But, oh my, today it didn’t linger long. Today there was palpable joy in the air at Convention. There were more smiles in the hallways, more clever repartee in the House of Deputies, and more voices singing during worship than I noticed earlier this week. It was another 97-degree day in Salt Lake City, but the news of the Supreme Court decision on marriage started to spread like a whispering breeze through the crowds lined up for early morning coffee. It pushed through the heavy metal doors of the worship area and, gaining momentum, wrapped itself around the jazz ensemble playing the prelude. Those who stood in drooping solemnity during yesterday’s Eucharist started clapping along to an impromptu, “We are Marching in the Light of God.” Young adults, grey-haired bishops, and collared clergy started dancing down the aisles, all waving their arms like a bunch of Pentecostals on fire. The funny thing was, the show of emotion didn’t seem forced or staged. There was none of that, “Oh-look-at-us-we-are-Episcopalians-but-we-know-how-to-be-cool-too” air that often accompanies mandatory innovation in worship. It was all authentic today. In the hallways, I didn’t notice any of the self-congratulatory back-slapping that can accompany a political victory, either. It was just pure joy, an exhaling of breath held in too long.

I don’t know how Convention will vote when it is our turn to vote on marriage later this week, and I don’t intend to debate the issues tonight on Facebook or on my blog. I intend only to celebrate a joy that I see too little of in this world, even in the Church. Fear is too familiar. Tonight I pray to borrow just a portion of my LGBT brothers’ and sisters’ sudden sense of the freedom to soar, the freedom to love.