I have a quick confession before I begin.  I wrote this homily on a plane on the way to a very difficult weekend memorial service thinking I wouldn't be giving it for quite some time as I had had to cancel due to said memorial.  God must have been working through me because I was invited to be here this Sunday upon returning to DC on Monday.  I apologize that it is not entirely tied to the gospel, but I hope you'll see, as I did upon review, that it fits quite nicely with the message of welcome, acceptance, and reward that today's reading speaks of...

In a technologically advanced, and ever advancing, world of checkbox descriptions on social networking sites, EVERYONE is labeled.  Some of my familiar labels are female, teacher, bisexual, singer, dancer, baker, and passionate sushi eating latte sipping liberal.  As much as I am able to squish myself into boxes of someone else's construction, there is one box that overtime has left me confused and uncomfortable: "Religion?"  This simple question did not always leave a bad taste in my mouth.

I am a cradle Episcopalian.  I was baptized a few days before my first birthday on All Saint's Sunday in 1982.  A few years later my parents split up and the majority of my life changed dramatically.  But, there was always an Episcopal church there.  I went to Sunday school, sang in children's choirs, and attended first communion classes and a special first communion service with my first grade peers.  Like many of us, I also went through my preteen let me pretend to be asleep so mom will leave me home on Sunday morning phase.  However, by the time I was a freshman in high school I was a loud and proud "What would Jesus do?" bracelet wearing, youth leadership team participant who not only sang in the choir, played in the handbell choir, and faithfully attended youth group, but I also brought friends to church with me, several of whom were later baptized with my mother as their god mother.  In those days I attended nationwide evangelism conferences, diocesan youth community service and bible study events.  And, I readily announced that I was religious without a second thought.  That fervor quickly disappeared as I moved away to college.

Without a car or a decent public transportation system in Stockton, California, I was limited in my options for belonging to a church so I eagerly joined the campus Christian organization.  I tried to be the person I thought I was within that group, but 6 months later when I was sitting with one of the leaders of this group I discovered I was NOT that person.  This leader told me that I too would go to hell if I continued to accept my best friend, Michael, as he was since he was gay.  Since Michael was someone I deeply loved who in my eyes was one of the kindest followers of Christ I'd ever had the privilege of knowing, I was in agony.  I poured over bible passages and I cried my eyes out.  That moment did not fit at all into the Christianity I knew nor the feeling deep in my soul of what I knew to be true about God's love.  I didn't know how to make it all fit together and so I left a piece of my religiosity behind. 

I became a more common college kid.  I partied with my sorority sisters and did silly things on Sunday mornings when I wasn't sleeping in until noon.  When I finally had a car I began attending the local Episcopal church where I did teach Sunday school and sometimes played the flute, but I exchanged descriptors preferring the safer sounding and feeling "spiritual" to "religious."  If I was asked, "Are you religious?" I would grimace and explain that I had a spiritual side.  This reaction grew stronger and stronger as I grappled with my own sexuality and the mounting tension in the national church I had known my whole life.