Father Matthew will be back from his vacation in a few days time. When that happens, it will be time for me to officially begin my sabbatical. I had that little twinge in the back of my throat this morning as I realized that the comfort of years of membership in this Church is coming to a stand still. Perhaps even an end.
We haven’t met yet, but my name is Norman Moore, or at least that is the name that I am using for this blog. I am using a pen name out of a deep love and respect for the family who have been a part of my life for nearly three decades as a very active member of the Anglican Church. I won’t be talking about what country I am in and the names I will use will be pseudonyms for many real, and many wonderful people and places that I cherish. This project is not meant to hurt but it is meant to be a cathartic action for me as I take my sabbatical from my little corner of the Anglican Communion.
How come I am taking a sabbatical, you might ask? Shouldn’t I just leave entirely? Couldn’t I just stay? Why keep one foot in and one step out? These are all very valuable questions, and there is no simple answer. Suffice to say, I need a break. I have come to a crossroads, where I am no longer convinced that the values I hold dear align with those of many parishes in my Diocese, my Diocese, or my National Church. I am at a place of deep hurt, but I am not yet jaded, and my faith has not been compromised by these questions. My frustration is with the Church, and none of it is with the God whom I believe in and love and believe loves me. I fear that allowing this frustration to fester for too long may compromise my faith, or darken my heart, this is something that I do not want to happen. Therefore, a break is in order.
Do I know what this break will look like? Absolutely not. I don’t know if I will continue to worship in other churches, or in Anglican Churches but without taking up membership or volunteer commitments. Perhaps I won’t worship in the traditional sense, or perhaps I will worship in the absence of the congregation. What I know for sure is that I have been resigning my many and various volunteer commitments over the last several weeks. It was important to me to ensure healthy transitions that support the parishes I serve. I cannot be in a position of responsibility or leadership right now.
So, what’s got me upset? Well, in short, I am queer, and my church is very much straight. At the core of my many stories and challenges with the church is this simple fact, I am queer. Yes, I am a pansexual, polyamorous man in his late 20s, but more importantly, I am queer. I live to change the boundaries of the box. I aspire to imagine new ideas, and challenge the status quo, and my church is afraid of this. Although many parishes are willing to challenge and be challenged, at its core, my church is so obsessed with creating a “big tent”. A church with what they believe to have room for everyone. This goal of pleasing all the papal, all of the time has led to people like me being forced to sit down. We are urged to avoid rocking the boat. Directed to avoid offending those who would sooner see the gay prayed out of me. My assignment from my church is to pretend to be straight, quiet and straight. These are the two things I am most incompetent at.
Time and time again, we are told that things will get better. I admit they have, but I struggle. I struggle that I have turned the other cheek so many times. Others continue to be allowed to carry on their narrow behaviors. It seems that to preserve the “big tent” I am required to accommodate the narrow. Yet they have never been told to make the smallest accommodation for me. Perhaps, from time to time, a gentle request has been made to accommodate me, and those like me. Never more than a gentle request.
I take this moment, and I expect several moments like it ahead to pause. I hope to be able to be present to my own thoughts and reflect on this time of Sabbath rest. This space is meant for me to help compose myself as I consider when and how this sabbatical will conclude. It is also my hope that others who are de-churched or may be feeling de-churched in their lives may find comfort in the similarity of my story for reassurance or confidence. This is a cathartic exercise more than anything, I would hazard to say. I hope this blog finds some corner of readership who will find some meaning. I expect it will be very meaningful to me.
After 26 years as a committed volunteer in several parishes, I feel as an old supply ship that has become weathered and riddled with holes in its hull. I have tried to keep running my errands, staying to safe harbors more often, and weathering the storm at rest. It has become too evident that it is time for this old supply ship to pull into dry dock. There needs to be some much needed maintenance and care.