Tonight I was asked to speak to you about my spiritual journey, and you meet me at an interesting point on that road.  Yesterday, along with three of my friends and supported by our clergy, family, friends, and fellow parishioners, I was Confirmed in the Episcopal Church.  Tonight through our readings we celebrate All Saints Day.  And in a little more than two days we as a nation will have elected ourselves new leadership, bestowing great power and responsibility to a few amongst us.

My spiritual journey begins with the notion of service.  At a very young age it was instilled in me the importance of caring for and loving my neighbors; that charity and humility are sacred virtues.  And in spite of all my parents loving efforts, and the guidance of my priests and teachers, I ended up here, in Washington, DC.  In politics.  Reflecting on the meaning behind All Saints Day, I'd like to share a modern day parable with you.  In the 1960's our President challenged us to "achieving the goal...of landing a man on the moon and returning him safely to the earth."  The biggest question in everyone's mind was whether or not we could do it.  It was a time in America that hope was alive and thriving.

Preparing to address the nation in Houston, President Kennedy was touring the new NASA facility and visiting with some of the thousands of people required to achieve this scientific challenge.  Meeting a man in Mission Control, he asked what his role was and he replied, "I'm in telemetry - it's my job to make sure the space craft stays on course."  Another man in those banks of computers answered, "Mr. President, I'm a flight surgeon.  I make sure our astronauts are fit for flight."

Right before his address, President Kennedy met one more NASA employee backstage.  The man was wearing coveralls and holding a broom.  Somewhat awkwardly, the President asked, "Tell me young man, what do you do here?"  The young man smiled proudly, and said, "Why, Mr. President, I'm helping to land a man on the moon."

That man with the broom at NASA recognized meaning to his task far greater than his individual actions.  He saw himself not simply as a custodian, but rather as a custodian of significant challenge and purpose.  God's call to service is not unlike that.  Bishop Chane reminded us at our Confirmation service yesterday that we too are part of something greater than just ourselves, our parishes, or even our diocese.  We are part of a worldwide communion of followers and stewards of Christ's teachings.  It was an awe-striking feeling, being in our magnificent cathedral and not just declaring our love and devotion to God, but simultaneously being welcomed and embraced by the Church.

So how did I get to yesterday morning?  It wasn't easy.  Faith is a complicated thing; an idea that holds several meanings and like our relationships with God can be different for every person.  At the risk of oversimplifying this idea, for me it is a binary state - either I am or I am not a person of faith.  It's not a garment I can take off and put back on.  I AM a person of faith.  I declared it yesterday at National Cathedral, and I declare it again right now here at St. Thomas.  But when I leave here tonight I'm still a person of faith.  When I go to work tomorrow morning, I'm still a person of faith.  And when I cast my ballot this week, I will do so as a person of faith.  My belief in God and his teachings are a part of my values system, and they are always with me.

In my youth I was a member of the Catholic Church and I absolutely loved it.  Yet as I came of age I came to know myself better, and realized the church wouldn't accept me simply because I'm gay.  Feeling abandoned, I not only left the church but went on to denounce it, God, and the faithful for nearly 15 years.  I'm able to recognize now that while I wasn't there for God, God was always there for me.  Of all things, a work assignment tore down the thick wall I had built.

Last summer I had the privilege of spending a few weeks in the African nations of Zambia, South Africa, and Namibia on behalf of the American people.  It was an official Congressional Staff Delegation of the House Committee on Foreign Affairs to evaluate the effectiveness of the President's Emergency Plan for AIDS Relief, and submit a recommendation for its reauthorization.

As our departure date drew nearer, the thrill of the pending adventure turned into fear and humility.  Why was I of all people a part of this four-person delegation?  Could I handle what I was about to experience?  Could I contribute to the mission substantially?  How did this kid from Upland, CA end up in this position?  What would the people there be like?  What does AIDS look like?  Would they accept me?  Would I accept them?