Every Family Has Its Ups and Downs

Eleanor rides a barge down the river to meet her conniving husband outside his castle. "How dear of you to let me out of jail for Christmas, Henry," she says venomously. The family quickly falls into its usual dysfunctionality. When one rowdy son asks "What'll we hang, the holly or each other?" Eleanor turns aside to Henry: "I don't like our children." After a spirited brawl leaves everyone bloodied, dazed, and black and blue, she speaks the unforgettable line that is the title of this post.

These are scenes from The Lion in Winter, but they could well be snippets of the present day Anglican conversation about homosexuality.

As a relative newcomer to Anglicanism (14 years), I'm puzzled by the rancor of so many of our conversations. Is all this venom really necessary? Can someone explain this? In an era when the lack of civility poisons our public discourse, you'd think Anglicans would model a more civil way of talking through tough issues.

Don't get me wrong. As a gay man, I'm certainly not going back into the closet. As a gay priest, I'll continue to support gay couples ready for marriage, and qualified gay candidates for bishop. No changes there. Yet I'd be very sad if my church lost its connection to the larger Anglican communion, unintentionally becoming, as The Economist recently forecast, simply a gathering of aging white liberals. I'd be sadder yet if this loss was hastened by well-intentioned but insulting rants by those I agree with.

I admit it's a cliche, but how you say something is as important as what you say. Right now, the words from both sides are too loaded with righteous indignation. As we say in California, "Negative energy, dude!"

Good idea: "If we can lower the emotional reactivity in the midst of this current controversy we just might be able to find a way to live together," says the presiding bishop of the Episcopal Church. "A non-violent response to this situation will need space and time to operate, and perhaps an unexpected or even humorous response. "

She got that right.

Please, somebody tell a joke!

At the Train Museum

Think of cocker spaniel pups with an edge. Maybe they've had too many caffeinated soft drinks or too much TV, or maybe it's Those Evil Video Games. Can't say exactly why, but these kids are frenetic. They bound from one model train to the next, shoving each other out of the way in a manic race to the control button. A colorful, sweet blur with a shrill hum.

David is by himself at the far end of the room, peering through the glass dome that mercifully protects Thomas the Tank Engine from his adoring fans. My heart sinks when I see David there: He seems so out of place among these Future Psychopaths of America. I walk over, wrap him in my arms and tell him I love him. But before my parental unction runs its course, he tells me that the small wire extending from the base of the engine car to the track is "where it gets electricity." And that Thomas takes six turns around the track before coming to a stop. And here is the button that makes him go again.

I'm relieved and impressed. This kid's not lonesome as I thought. In fact, those deep brown eyes, so intent and focused, belong to a genius making his way in the world. Yup, that's what's going on here. Then comes the coup.

The stressed spaniels make their way to Thomas, crowd around the table, frantically scanning for the control button. They can't see it carefully hidden under David's casually draped arm.

Suddenly, Thomas, his requisite six turns around the track complete, stops dead. Panic ensues. What happened? How do we make him go again? Where's the button? The room is electrified, the suspense so thick only a buzz saw could cut it.

But then, mysteriously, Thomas begins to move again. The pups are baffled. For a brief moment, they look around aimlessly like dazed aliens, then dart off to the next new thing.

Once they've moved on, David looks up at me with his dimpled grin and glee in his eyes. "They don't know it was me who made the train go."

David Rides a Bike

Today, my son learned to ride a bike. I'm hoarse from all the cheering. We're both completely exhausted from the thrill.

So no more blogging for this week. We've got too much struttin' to do.