A Sanctuary
What better place to come out of the closet than California. . . I’m not referring to my sexuality; this post doesn’t concern my sex of choice, yet my church of choice. For those that have known me for the past, say 5 years, know that I’ve been on a roller coaster ride with my social location, faith tradition, and especially my given ecclesiastical setting. I always was an outlier in my own given tradition (for detail see my last post, Relinquishing and Receiving).
It was Monday August 10th 2009, I remember it as if it were only 3 months ago. The week prior was spent with family in Tennessee and the week before that was spent packing and leaving our home in Mexico City. Everything that we could fit into a van was driven to Texas with us. And it was good. It was Monday August 10th around 2:00pm, after driving nonstop since 4:00pm the day before, which would have been Sunday, we pulled into the seminary parking lot. Not knowing whether I was even accepted to the school or not- all bags were packed and sealed in Texas. With open arms we were met and I was granted acceptance to the school. Suddenly the sun shone brighter, the birds chirp was louder, and a form of solace fell heavily over me, draping my shoulders. After the hug, we were off to tour campus. And it was good.
For sometime now, I have considered myself a closet UCC member. I’ve anxiously awaited to join the community, however since the past 2 years and some odd months, I’ve been living in Mexico and have not had the opportunity- until now. After the trip to Boston and the great experience at Andover Newton Theological School, we worked or way west to my brother-in-law’s in Santa Rosa, CA. It is here, that I have had my first and continuing ecclesiastical experience with the UCC.
A Communion of Traditions
In one word, both experiences have conveyed to me: acceptance. Where I was formerly located I only knew of rejection; rejection of my thoughts, my belief system, my political views, my sense of justice, mercy, and compassion. I was in total conflict without hope of a resolution.
However, as I reflect on acceptance and the need of vital spaces today, I think back to when I started to experience this. It is when I moved to Mexico. It is when I am in the arms of my wife, it is when I am alone, and when I’m packed into the metro with 3 million other people. It is when I am at the ocean, it is when I have achieved simplicity. I feel that I will not again be able to truly enjoy a vital space until Yuli is able to experience the imagery with me and until the bags in Texas have all been unpacked- until we are living again, finally in context, in community. I am truly an immigrant and have been for 3 years.
I still have a lot of unlearning to do, a lot of deconstructing, but I am actively working towards that, and hope that ANTS will be able to help me reconstruct worlds that I never imagined possible. I’m eagerly awaiting new paradigms of Christianity in a pluralist context that will one day when I lest expect it, with the birds chirping louder than usual and the sun’s rays beaming ever more brightly, will fall suddenly over and over on my shoulders, as a deep solace. I’m ready to claim my vital space and my church of choice. I’m ready to minister to those in crisis, to do theology from the underside of history. I’m with open arms, ready to receive.
I encourage all peoples that are situated in an environment of rejection to take hold of the door and break out of that closet and claim acceptance, embrace life, wherever you might find it, or it might find you. And it will be good.
paz,
~mlw
