My friend Frances decided to stop smoking on Presidents’ Day 1991. She found it a more inspirational anniversary—most likely a good conversation starter—than saying she had quit as a New Year’s resolution.
In that spirit, I am using the eve of Father’s Day 2012 as the day to come out of the closet. When I started this blog in 2009, my husband was an active bishop in The Episcopal Church. I did not want to offend or confront. The role of a bishop’s wife is to be “nice”. (Nice – one of the best examples of a four-letter word.)
Civility can be a form of suppression and control, particularly in the House of Bishops and institutional church.
So for three years I have written under the name Monika – patron saint of clergy wives and mother of St. Augustine.
But now he is retired and I am free from the shackles of niceness. He is very likely facing incarceration at Rikers Island for trespassing on a vacant lot. What makes this all the richer, grist for the mill that is the theme of this blog, is his accuser is an Episcopal Church in the Diocese of New York. Among the defendants – people of integrity he is proud to stand trial with – is an priest active in the Diocese of New York.
The bishops of New York have been silent about the trial and the gift here is they are successfully hammering in the final nails into the coffin of the institutional church. God is offering me a feast of irony and affirmation.
More to come – it is rather draining to go through the trial process waiting for the sentencing. It’s like waiting for the other shoe to drop only to discover the guy who lives upstairs has one leg.
Brook Packard, married for 13 years to George E. Packard.