Saints Sergius and Bacchus
Roman Soldiers and Lovers
Martyred in Syria, ca. A.D. 303
for refusing to worship the Roman god Jupiter
(This is a contemporary icon which I'm sure is copyrighted, but I have no idea who wrote it (icons are "written", not painted).)
My user picture for this post is a 7th century icon showing SS. Sergius and Bacchus, with Christ Jesus between them. Some scholars believe that it depicts the wedding or union of Sergius and Bacchus, with Jesus as their best man.
There has always been something about the Triduum of Hallowe'en, All Saints' Day, and All Souls' Day which has made it holy and one of my favorite times of the year. Perhaps the names have special symbolism to me: my parents were married in a parish called "All Saints'" and my formal church membership is still in an Oklahoma City parish called "All Souls'." Perhaps it's because the very idea that not only saints but all souls—all people—are a beloved part of God's creation.
I always remember a children's hymn from church, Grand Isle. I still have the hymnal which belonged to my grandmother, who was the organist at All Saints' half a century ago...let me find the words:
I sing a song of the saints of God, patient and brave and true,
Who toiled and fought and lived and died for the Lord they loved and knew.
And one was a doctor and one was a queen,
and one was a shepherdess on the green:
they were all of they saints of God—
and I mean, God helping, to be one too.
You can meet them in school, or in lanes, or at sea,
in church, or in trains, or in shops, or at tea,
for the saints of God are just folk like me,
and I mean to be one too.
Hmm. One was a queen. When I used to sing this song, I never had any visions of crowns or majesty. Interesting. And another thing I love about this hymn, something I didn't discover until adulthood, is that the words were written in 1929 by a woman named Lesbia.
A lot of my friends and acquaintances question how I can be both a Christian and a gay man. In fact, for both some of my gay friends and some of my Evangelical acquaintances, "attack" may be a better word than "question." It's just something I've always been. It's as much a part of me as being gay or being tall or being brunet.
I was blessed by God to be born gay, and as an American Indian, we have ancient traditions that some special people are born with "two spirits:" we have positive traits of both males and of females. The Two-Spirits were often the "medicine men" or healers or reconcilors or abitrators or peacemakers, and many tribes considered them to be a third, superior gender. I was also blessed by God to be born into the Episcopal Church, the American branch of the Church of England. We're the church with the gay bishop in New Hampshire. The Episcopal Church has always been open and accepting of all kinds of people, from the eccentric to the socially outcast to the incredibly ordinary. In fact, when I was a child, the people I now know are gay were just incredibly nice, ordinary people in the congregation and in the community. Everybody knew they were "two old maids living together" or "confirmed bachelors," but nobody cared and it wasn't discussed because who was sleeping with whom and what they were doing with one another was just not polite conversation. It's only been in the last decade or so when the Evangelicals have gotten so very filled with vitriolic hatred for homosexuals that "gays" have even been an issue in the Episcopal Church. I don't worry about the Evangelicals, though. Once I point out to them the cultural evidence that the beautiful, young John—the "disciple whom Jesus loved"—and Jesus were most likely lovers, they just swoon away.
All that being well and good, I am a Christian because I am loved by God, I feel comfortable and serene in church, He accepts me as I am (after all, He made me this way), and Jesus died as the sacrifice to forgive the sins of all mankind, not just the self-righteous Evangelicals spewing bile from the pulpit. It's complicated; yet, it's simple.
So, yesterday we celebrated the Feast of All Saints, a roster which has certainly grown during my lifetime; from 1978 to 2005, Pope John Paul II named more new saints than all his papal precedessors combined! You've probably read my report on last night's service, which left me happy and invigorated.
Today, though, is the Feast of All Souls, an observance in the church which goes back to the 10th century. For those of us who aren't saints (God knows, I'm certainly not!), this is our day. It's a much more down-to-earth observance, and parishes all over the world will be offerring prayers for and reading lists of the dearly departed of the rank and file ordinary parishioners—their parents, their grandparents, their spouses, their children, their friends. In many cultural traditions, this is the day when families go to cemeteries to clean the graves of their ancestors and leave food, flowers, and other mementos, and in many rural European cultures, peasants believe this is the night when the dead return to earth to eat the food of the living. No doubt there was some ancient pagan celebration around this time that was being replaced by the Catholic Church with this feast day.
It's also a special, festive holiday for Hispanic cultures, where it is known as La Dia de los Muertos: the Day of the Dead. Back in Oklahoma, which isn't so very far from Mexico, we observed it in some way. I've yet to see if there is enough Hispanic presence in D.C. for there to be any note of the holiday. I imagine I could wander over to some of the Salvadorean neighborhoods to see, but they would no doubt force pupusas or tamales or other such wonderful foods upon me which are so totally not on my diet!
While most South and Middle-American cultures are Catholic and observe All Souls' Day in the church, the tradition of La Dia de los Muertos is ancient, pre-dating the Catholic celebration by millennia. Anthropologists believe the observance began over 3,000 years ago amongst the Aztecs, Mayas, and their ancestral indigenous tribes. Of course, when the Spanish conquistadors arrived in the New World, they were appalled by pretty much everything the Aztecs did, calling them "pagan observances," and they forced the Aztecs to move their Dia de los Muertos from August to November 2, when it could be absorbed and incorporated into the Roman Catholic All Souls' Day. Today the celebration is Christian, but the historical underpinnings remain, and people celebrate with candy and breads in the shapes of skulls and skeletons.
And so, today we remember our loved ones who have gone on to the next phase in their journey through eternity, whatever that may be. Today I'll think about my grandparents, aunts and uncles, cousins, neighbors, colleagues, classmates, and the dozens and dozens of my friends who succumbbed all too young to AIDS. Still yet, I'll celebrate life, firm in the knowledge of the love of God and in sure and certain hope of the resurrection to eternal life.
Requiem æternam dona ei, Domine.
Et lux perpetua luceat ei.
Requiescat in pace. Amen.
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