Two seminary students sat across from him, one working on his Master of Divinity the other working on her Ph.D. in a yet to be narrowed down field of American religious history. Both were drinking a mixture whose name the parson might once have recognized when he was learning ancient Greek.
The trio shared news of various acquaintances. The students asked the parson if certain rumors about certain better-know pastors were true, and asked for the parson’s evaluation of the new bishop. The parson, in turn, asked them what they’d heard about the better-known pastor. Their revelations he added to his otherwise empty store house of gossip. As for the new bishop the parson pleaded ignorance, as the bishop’s as yet never extended invitation to dinner at his residence deprived the parson of adequate knowledge to make a determination.
James, the M.Div. student, fired up his notebook to share with the parson an article the new bishop had written. The parson promised to read it later in order to become better informed.
“So, are you’re finishing seminary this year?” he asked James.
“I am, Parson. Finally.”
“Have you started the process with the Board of Ministry?”
James closed his notebook, glanced over at Monique, the doctoral candidate, then back at the parson. He cleared his throat and said in a quiet voice. “Actually, Parson, I haven’t,” he said. “I don’t think I’m going to take the path toward ordination.”
“You’re not!” the parson stammered, forcing himself forward on the sofa. The statement had caught him completely by surprises. He’d known James for a decade and his whole life journey had been leading toward ordination. “Why not?”
James smiled at the parson a moment, then he asked, “You don’t know?”
“Know what?” The parson looked over at Monique whom he’d know just as long as he’d know James. She was smiling, obviously at the parson’s consternation.
“Parson,” said James, “I’m gay.”
The room seemed to shrink. The parson was completely surprised. He’d never considered this. He’d never had occasion to consider this. The parson sank back into the sofa. A thousand emotions surged through his body. He stared at young man he’d thought so long to be a rising star of the church. He did not know what to say. Sorrow wracked his being. The consequences raised their head and impaled his spirit.
It seemed a short eternity before the silence was broken.
“Parson, are you okay?” asked Monique.
“I guess so,” said the parson. “This is why you’re not going before the board?” he said to James.
“It is,” said James. “I’m not going to lie.”
“Are you going to another denomination?” asked the parson.
“No, Parson, I’m not going to do that. I’m sticking around and I intend to make a nuisance of myself.”
The parson smiled. James was a delegate to the Annual Conference. He might start attending more frequently.
“What about you, Monique,” the parson asked.
“I’m not going to be ordained either, Parson.”
“I know you’re not gay, Monique.”
“Right, Parson. But the more I’ve thought about it the more I’m uncomfortable with the thought of being ordained. I think it would be more than two-faced. I can’t reconcile the enormous amounts of money the church spends on itself while the world is hungry. I’m fed up with the hypocrisy. I could go on and on, Parson.”
The parson said nothing for a couple of minutes. James excused himself to get another cup of the concoction he and Monique were drinking. Monique leaned forward, “Aren’t you going to show off any grandkids pictures?”
The parson smiled at her winsome way. He pulled out his iPhone. Monique moved to sit beside him on the sofa as the parson began to flip through the pictures. James returned and sat on the arm of the sofa to view the show.
A while later James moved back to his seat. Monique remained on the sofa. James said, “Are you okay with what I told you, Parson?”
“No, James, I’m not. And I’m not okay with what Monique tells me. I’m disturbed that folks like you can’t find a home in the church. I’m just ....”
The conversation continued for another hour. At that point it moved to the restaurant two blocks down the street, and from there it continued at an Irish pub another block down.
It was almost midnight when the parson left for home, exhilarated from having been with two young people who’d skipped through is parish almost two decades ago and sad, so sad.
Graphic by subscription with Church Art Pro.
Yes.
Posted by: mary beth | August 12, 2010 at 07:49 AM
As always, your stories say much more than a long essay.
Posted by: John Meunier | August 12, 2010 at 09:24 AM
Good for James and Monique. Sad for the church to lose them.
Posted by: Wayne | August 13, 2010 at 10:05 AM
sigh...........
Posted by: mmp | August 16, 2010 at 03:00 PM