“It’s all wrong!” Altaf nearly shouted in a whisper as he pleaded his case. “Everything’s changed. We’re off track and I fear the world’s in grave peril.”
We were at the swearing-in ceremony for Jeremy Kimball as the new Vice-President and, hence, we were limited in what we could say. There were numerous officials and reporters within earshot and, in this town, it only took the merest hint of something out of the ordinary to touch off a media firestorm. That was the last thing we needed right now.
Jeremy had finished his testimony before the Joint Judiciary Committee just yesterday afternoon and received the committee’s full endorsement. Then, in an extraordinary evening session, Jer had been called back to testify before the full Senate. He’d had to cut short a celebratory dinner he and his family had been in the midst of, hosted by my brother-in-law.
We’d all assumed Jeremy would be at it again with another full day of testimony before Congress and, hence, we were astounded when Senator Udall’s motion to call the question carried, thus ending all debate. Jeremy’s nomination was approved in the Senate with only a handful of abstentions and no dissenting votes! Before he could even return to his quarters, he was called to testify before the House and secured the vice-presidency in less than an hour.
The President decided it would be best to have Jeremy sworn in immediately and, thus, I’d arranged for a hasty ceremony and news conference with less than an hour’s notice.
In the meantime, Trevor had been busy all morning with our first real break in the case of David Reynolds’ assassination — a break that came out of our own hometown. It seemed that one of the terrorists involved in the assassination plot was the brother of one of the boys in Billy Mathews’ Sanctuary Project and that the brother had taken the entire household of gay boys hostage, intending to hole up there for a while.
The details I had thus far were sketchy at best and I knew there had been casualties and the brother was in custody. Trevor wanted to keep the whole thing quiet until we had a chance to thoroughly interrogate the suspect but we were in the twenty-first century and nothing could stop the news from traveling instantaneously once the story broke.
The local news media had descended en masse on the scene and, before long, the hostage incident was national and international news. So far, the story was only about the taking of hostages in a group home for gay youth but I figured it was only a matter of time before the press got wind of the connection to David’s assassination.
The last thing Trevor wanted was a repeat of the day Jack Ruby shot Lee Harvey Oswald but I argued that an out-of-control press could be equally dangerous. I felt confident we could protect a terror suspect in our custody. A lot had changed since the early 1960s, not the least of which was our naïveté.
In my mind, allegations of government mishandling of the case could destroy the administration and, much as I hated Marvin Schroeder, it was my responsibility to keep that from happening. We’d therefore decided to get in front of events and make the announcement of the capture at this very press conference. Only the President himself, Jeremy, Trevor and I knew what was coming.
Debbie McLaughlin would undoubtedly be furious at us but her case against the terrorists associated with David’s assassination would rest firmly on the ground laid by the court of public opinion. In the end it was all about politics, as it always had been and always would be.
“So you see, Trevor, it’s really critical that I go to Israel,” Altaf added as he spoke to my husband, bringing us back to the question he’d posed just before we entered the press room.
“Altaf,” Trevor replied, “I believe you. Paul Manning pretty much said the same thing when he pleaded his case.”
“That was the reason for the rush job on his visa?” Altaf asked in obvious astonishment?
“Why do you think we let him go?” I responded. “It’s too dangerous over there right now but Paul can take care of himself — and I don’t need to tell you that he has a sixth sense for these sorts of things.”
“So I’ve heard,” Altaf agreed, “and that’s all the more reason I need to go, too. Karen Richards wasn’t supposed to die. Her presence in Israel was supposed to provide stability at this time of crisis — to keep the peace process from disintegrating. I was still supposed to be the Secretary of Health and Randy the Surgeon General — that’s the way it always was in my dreams…”
“And that’s just what Paul told us, too,” Trevor chimed in, “but there’s no way in Hell I’m going to let you go to Israel right now. It’s way too dangerous and there’s no way the U.S. government can protect you over there. Solomon and Richards were gunned down by one of Solomon’s own elite bodyguards. Until we know who’s behind this, there’s no way you can go.”
“But I…” Altaf started to say, but was interrupted by a round of applause as the President’s press secretary, Lance Cohen, stepped up to the podium at the front of the Underground White House Press Room.
“Ladies and Gentlemen,” Lance began, “As you undoubtedly know by now, less than an hour ago Jeremy Kimball was confirmed as the Vice-President of the United States. Chief Justice Roberts will be here momentarily to administer the oath of office but, in the meantime, President Schroeder would like to say a few words.”
The President then stepped up to the podium and, after another round of applause, began to speak.
Ladies and Gentlemen, it’s hard to believe so much has happened in such a short time. Scarcely a week ago, President Reynolds and the Vice-President were touring St. Louis. We were at peace and, even more amazingly, the Middle East was at peace for the first time in nearly a century. Our primary thoughts centered on the opening of the baseball season and which movie would win this year’s Oscar. What a difference a day makes.
Sadly, there is still much evil in the world. There are those who cannot accept the principles of democracy — who believe that their way is the only way and who are willing to murder to achieve their aims. They do this because deep down they know. They know that, were their ideas to be exposed to the light of day, they would be soundly rejected by the people. Their ideas cannot pass the test of public scrutiny. They can only impose their will by force. Their way is the coward’s way.
But America is stronger than they are. They can kill our leaders but they cannot stop us. Unlike the authoritarian rule they seek, we are not dependent on any one person and even with the loss of a popular president, our government will still go on. We will not be deterred. Even when they kill both the President and the Vice-President, we can still go on. No matter how many of us they try to kill, we are ready for them. Not only was a new president installed the same day as David Reynolds’ assassination, but we replaced the Secretary of State, the Secretary of Health and the Surgeon General in short order, and we are now about to swear in a new vice-president, making our government fully whole again. In less than a week, the last stains of their cowardice will be completely erased from our consciousness.
We the People — of the United States of America — have established a government of the people, by the people and for the people, and it shall never be allowed to perish from this earth.
I was amazed. Although it was almost certain that President Schroeder did not write the speech, he did deliver it as well as anyone could have. He was finally beginning to act like a president — to instill the confidence that Americans so desperately craved at the moment. He truly deserved the standing ovation he received.
As we all sat back down, Chief Justice Roberts wheeled his motorized scooter up to the podium and, with the aid of his crutches, rose to a standing position. Jeremy Kimball then stepped up to the podium as well and, literally, towered over the Chief Justice.
Speaking very quietly, the Chief Justice said, “Mr. Kimball, please repeat after me. I Jeremy Kimball do solemnly swear…”
“I Jeremy Kimball do solemnly swear,” Jeremy repeated.
“… that I will faithfully execute the Office of Vice-President of the United States,” Roberts continued and Jeremy repeated, “… and will to the best of my ability,” they continued, “… preserve, protect and defend the Constitution of the United States,” and then they concluded, “… so help me God.”
“Congratulations Mr. Vice-President,” the Chief Justice added as he shook Jeremy’s hand and we all stood to give a standing ovation.
Jeremy then approached the microphone and gave a short speech of his own. Although the speech was every bit as good as the one just given by the President, there was one line in his speech that grabbed hold of my soul — a line in which he quoted me.
Terrorists can never win our hearts and our minds. They can only rule by fear — a fear that stems from blind faith in following principles that defy logic. To quote one of the greatest lines of all time — a line spoken by my good friend and the President’s Chief of Staff, Kurt Dewitt, ‘Why did God give us eyes with which to see, ears with which to hear and a brain with which to reason, only for us to shut our eyes, cover our ears and blindly obey what we’ve been taught to believe. Reason is the answer. God gave us the ability to reason so we can grow, develop and learn to make the world a better place for everyone and not just for those who appear, believe and act as we do.’”
As Jeremy continued his speech, I couldn’t help but remember when I’d originally spoken those words. At the time, the sermon in which they were spoken was received with mixed reviews. It was controversial at a time when the Evangelical Church was trying to resolve the controversy over having openly gay ministers. Yet the sermon was quoted extensively by others and the associated Wikipedia entry came to be one of the most visited of all time. It was one of the reasons I was ultimately hired as Dean of the National Cathedral.
The funny thing was that I didn’t set out to write a landmark sermon. I wrote it at a very frustrating time in my life. My initial reception by the congregation had been lukewarm at best and at times openly hostile. Indeed I’d probably have been run out of town, so to speak, had it not been for the reconciliation with my father. It was his support and not my credentials that resulted in a taciturn acceptance by the congregation at large.
However, acceptance didn’t necessarily translate to exuberance and when it came to where people chose to worship, they tended to vote with their feet. It didn’t take long for it to become evident that, given the choice, people would rather listen to a preacher who wasn’t gay.
It didn’t matter that I had a doctorate from one of the best Divinity schools in the nation. It didn’t matter that I was conversant in several languages, nor that I could recite the Old and New Testament in their original Hebrew, Aramaic and Greek. What mattered to most of the congregants was that I was queer and, no matter what my dad or anyone else said, they couldn’t get past a lifetime of being taught to hate.
How ironic it was that one of most widely cited sermons in history and certainly the best one I ever wrote started with an unpleasant meeting with the senior pastor of our church…
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“Hey, Kurt, how’s it going?” Pastor Winters asked as she extended her hand in greeting. She’d asked me to meet with her after the second Sunday service on what was a spectacular autumn day. The leaves were brilliantly colored, the air had a wonderful crispness that can only be felt on a sunny fall day and there was that unique scent of decaying leaves that permeates the air throughout the Midwest during most of the fall season. The sun shone magnificently through the large windows of her study.
Sighing, I replied, “Much as I’d like to say it’s going great, I can’t help but worry about the future of the congregation.”
“I take it you’ve noticed that attendance is down?” she asked.
“How could I not notice?” I asked in return. “It’s not like the pews are empty, but we’re not filling the sanctuary the way my dad used to.”
“We’re not even filling it the way I used to before you came here, Kurt,” she replied, “and therein lies the problem. Membership renewals are down and, if we fail to reverse the trend, there won’t be sufficient funds to keep the facility in good repair, let alone to pay our salaries.”
“A lot of the older members have joined First Baptist since my father became the senior pastor there,” I noted. “That probably would have happened anyway, regardless of whether I was here or not.”
“Perhaps…” Jan seemed to agree, “but a lot of the younger members have switched churches as well and not just to join First Baptist. I think you know the real reason our membership is down, Kurt, and it’s not something that’s going to change as long as you’re here.”
Swallowing hard at the implication of what she was saying, I asked the question rather than wait for her to tell me what I knew was coming. “Are you firing me?”
“Only the Board can fire you, Kurt,” she answered. “You know that. This board would be loathe to fire you, as they were the ones to hire you in the first place. Even if I had the authority to do so, I wouldn’t fire you either. After all, it was I that recommended you to the board in the first place.
“No, if you go down, we all go down together. Either the congregation will replace the Board and the new board will replace both of us, or congregants will continue to vote with their feet until there is nothing left of Hope Evangelical.”
Swallowing again, I completed her thoughts by saying, “So you’d like me to resign.”
“Please don’t take it personally, Kurt, but I think it’s the only way for the church to survive,” she replied. “I really like you and I think you have made an outstanding contribution to the church. Frankly, I think that you’re of much higher caliber than the congregation deserves and I seriously doubt you’ll have any trouble finding another job.”
This was the last thing I wanted to hear but my primary concern was for the survival of our church. The problem was that I seriously doubted that my resignation would be enough to save it. As painful as it was to raise the issue, I thought I had to be honest with the woman who had become a close friend.
“If I could speak frankly, Jan, I have to ask you something,” I responded.
“Go on, Kurt,” she replied.
“If I were to leave Hope Evangelical,” I asked, “do you think you’re strong enough to bring those who’ve already left back into the fold, and do you think you could bring in enough new congregants to make the church viable again?”
“Ouch!” she replied with a wince, and then after a period of self-reflection, she answered, “I’m really not sure — on the one hand, the church managed to grow even after your father left. My message of tolerance resonated with a lot of people who’d never considered Hope Evangelical before, but our style of worship continued to appeal to the existing members as it always had.
“On the other hand, that message of tolerance might ring hollow if you were to resign and a lot of those who’ve stayed because we’re tolerant, might leave in search of a more liberal church. Not only that, but the conservative members would likely continue their exodus to your father’s congregation, even though he’s become more tolerant as well.
“So I guess the bottom line is that Hope Evangelical is doomed no matter what we do. The only course of action might be for us both to resign so that the Board can start with a clean slate in selecting a pastor and associate pastor more to the liking of the congregation at large.”
Holding up my hands, I countered, “Jan, I don’t think it should come to that! It was in the spirit of tolerance that you built the congregation into what it is today, and it’s certainly not your fault that the addition of me as the associate pastor has alienated some of the old guard and the more conservative members.
“Hope Evangelical has fundamentally changed since you became the senior pastor and trying to change it back into something it hasn’t been in years would almost certainly be the death of what’s left of it. No, our departure would probably be the worst thing that could happen,” I countered. “Perhaps Hope Evangelical won’t survive in the end, but there is a whole generation of young Christians who yearn for the message of hope that Evangelism can bring — a generation that is far more tolerant than their parents ever were.
“What I propose is that, rather than retreating or retrenching, we reach out to the youth of our community — that we embrace the marriage of Evangelism with the message of tolerance. It’s a message that I think many Christians are ready to hear. Let’s make Hope Evangelical a modern church for the twenty-first century.”
“And how do you propose to do that, Kurt?” she asked.
After a seemingly lengthy pause, I replied, “I don’t know, but I’m going to figure it out. Give me a week to come up with a plan.”
“Well, a week isn’t going to make a difference, one way or the other,” Jan replied, “but keep in mind that whatever ideas you come up with, they’ll have to be approved by the Board.”
Looking at her askance, I replied, “Of course any change in the direction of our church has to have the support of the Board. I’m not a maverick. I just want to figure out a way for Hope Evangelical to survive.”
“You and me both, Kurt,” Jan replied.
Later that afternoon, Trevor and I found ourselves involved with the church’s youth group, building a sukkah. Sukkot is the Jewish holiday of thanksgiving, held every year at the end of the traditional fall harvest. As a part of the week-long celebration, most Jewish households build something called a sukkah, which is a temporary structure — a sort of canopy — decorated with remembrances of the season and used for holding prayer services.
Most of the youth of our congregation had never even seen a sukkah, let alone built one. In our culture the traditional role of the holiday of Sukkot had been replaced by the national holiday of Thanksgiving — a holiday celebrated by people of all faiths including the Jews — but that still didn’t explain the demise of Sukkot from Christian observances. Christ himself observed Sukkot and there was no indication that he ever rejected its observance.
As we built our sukkah, festooning it with the traditional, brightly-colored gourds, small pumpkins and other fall items, I asked the kids why we as Christians no longer celebrated the holiday.
“Is it because we celebrate Thanksgiving instead?” asked a girl who looked to be around thirteen.
“But Thanksgiving’s an American holiday,” countered a boy, who looked to be slightly older.
“It doesn’t explain why the rest of the Christian world doesn’t celebrate Sukkot and besides, we’ve only celebrated Thanksgiving for what, four hundred years?” the boy argued.
“Not even that long,” I pointed out. “Although it’s true that other countries have their own Thanksgiving celebrations — for example, Canadians celebrate theirs in October, the bottom line is that Christians haven’t celebrated Sukkot for millennia. Why not?”
“Because we give thanks in other ways and no longer need a separate holiday to give thanks to God?” a boy of about fifteen suggested.
“That’s not a bad answer,” I agreed, “but the Jews give thanks through prayer as well and yet they still celebrate Sukkot. No, the reason that we as Christians embrace certain features of our Jewish heritage and reject all others is much more complicated than that and not really attributable to any one individual.
“For that matter, why do we celebrate Christmas on December 25? Was Jesus born then? Almost certainly not, but December 25 corresponded with festivities celebrating the winter solstice held throughout the Roman Empire and much of the world. The introduction of Christmas as a replacement for a familiar holiday aided in the adoption and spread of Christianity.
“Now Christ himself did rail against the rigidity of some of the strictures of the Old Testament. Many have since interpreted that as a rejection of laws that were perceived to be outdated. Does that mean that Jesus didn’t keep Kosher? What do you all think?”
“If Jesus was against keeping Kosher,” an older teenage girl answered, “then I seriously doubt he kept Kosher.”
“But the Last Supper was a Passover Seder,” another girl countered. “Jesus ate matzo and drank the sacramental wine and those acts have become central to our own observances. In fact, although the communion wafer has come to symbolize the body of Christ, it’s nothing more than a piece of matzo.”
“That’s right,” I agreed. “If nothing else, the one thing we know is that Jesus was most likely an observant Jew. No matter what his personal beliefs, it is highly unlikely that he broke with his traditions. He was a rabbi and almost certainly kept Kosher, at least in as much as people did back then. Although modern rules on keeping Kosher didn’t arise until nearly a millennium and a half after his death, I seriously doubt he ate pork or shellfish.”
“So why don’t we keep Kosher?” a younger boy asked.
“One of many contradictions in the Bible,” I answered, “but I think that’s a secondary point. Only humans can contradict themselves. God doesn’t lie, so why would he tell us that something is ‘forever’ unclean, only to command Peter not to call unclean what he has declared clean? As with so many other passages, something was lost in the translation, or the transcription of the original verse.
“And again, why don’t we celebrate Sukkot?” I asked, bringing the conversation full circle. “Some denominations do celebrate the Feast of Tabernacles, which is based on Sukkot, but they are in the minority. A lot of decisions were made in the early days of Christianity,” I went on. “Some of them arose by consensus but others were bitterly disputed and some arose out of compromise.
“Was it right to throw out all the old Jewish traditions and basically start over, or did we end up throwing out the baby with the bath water?”
“Wasn’t this what God wanted us to do?” a boy of about fourteen asked.
“According to the Gospel, yes,” I replied, “but you have to remember that the Gospel was written by men based on the teachings of Christ. Some of it has been invaluable, but a lot of it represents the opinions of the men who wrote it and not necessarily those of Jesus, nor the word of God.”
“You have to remember that anti-Semitism was rampant at the time and the practitioners of the new faith may have wished to distance themselves from the original religion that gave birth to Christianity. Indeed, in the fourth century, Saint John Chrysostom is reported to have said, ‘The festivals of the pitiful and miserable Jews are soon to march upon us one after the other and in quick succession — I wish to drive this perverse custom from the Church right now.’”
“So are we supposed to pick and choose what to believe?” the boy asked incredulously.
“The traditional approach of Evangelical Christianity,” I replied, “has been to accept the Gospel as the Word of God, which it clearly is not. For any Biblical scholar to accept it as such would be like saying the U.S. Constitution was divinely inspired and can never be touched.
“Indeed, the Constitution is a great analogy. A quarter of a millennium ago, the Founding Fathers wrote a document that has served us well as the framework for a government that has stood the test of time. However, the Constitution has been interpreted and reinterpreted over the years to mean different things, and it has been amended by Congress many times. Perhaps the Constitution was inspired by God, but no one would consider its word to be written in stone. Times change and our needs have changed. We no longer count slaves as being three-fifths of a person. We came to realize that slavery is immoral and that all people must be free.”
Pulling Trevor into a half-hug by my side, I went on, “My marriage to my husband was, until recently, considered a sinful perversion of God’s intent by nearly all religions and, to a good many, it still is. However most American religious institutions have been coming to accept that homosexuality is natural and more than likely part of God’s plan. It has been a grudging acceptance, but it has come, even for Evangelical Christianity.
“We have begun to reject the fundamentalist approach of our forebears even as we embrace the core ideals that embody Evangelism — that becoming a Christian is a choice and not a right of birth, and that it is our duty and responsibility to spread the word, even as we accept the diverse ways in which people choose to worship God.
“Personally, I cannot accept that God gave us eyes with which to see, ears with which to hear and a brain with which to reason, only for us to shut our eyes, cover our ears and blindly obey what we’ve been taught to believe. Reason is the answer. God gave us the ability to reason so we can grow, develop and learn to make the world a better place for everyone and not just for those who appear, believe and act as we do.”
I couldn’t believe it when all the kids around me spontaneously broke into a loud cheer and applauded me, and then it hit me. This was what I needed to do. I needed to take my message to the community. If the people weren’t coming to the Church, then I needed to take the Church to the people. I needed to get out and show the city what modern Evangelism was all about.
Perhaps we could stream our services out over the Internet, or create a downloadable podcast. Maybe I could even get myself invited as a guest minister on one of the local televised Sunday church programs. Central to the vision was putting together the thoughts I’d shared with these kids into a coherent sermon — my vision of what a good Christian should be — a Christian who embraces rather than rejects the differences among us.
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As Jeremy finished his remarks as the newly confirmed Vice-President, everyone in the room rose to give him a standing ovation. As I rose to my feet, I still had a smile on my face from thinking about my early days as an Evangelical pastor. After we were all seated once again, Lance returned to his position at the podium and told everyone that my husband had an announcement to make. As Trevor made his way from his seat by my side to the podium, I recognized that this moment was, literally, the calm before the storm.
Ladies and gentlemen of the press and honored guests,” Trevor began, “It is with great pleasure that I can report to you today that we have our first major break in the investigation into the death of President David Reynolds.
Even as Congress was deliberating in the confirmation hearings for Jeremy Kimball as Vice-President, local police and the FBI were involved in a hostage situation back in President Reynolds’ hometown. As many of you may have already heard, there was a hostage incident that began early this morning at the residence of Billy Mathews, the former quarterback of the Indianapolis Colts and the director of the Sanctuary Project, a program that provides group homes and services for gay African American youth.
Mr. Mathews and his husband of some thirty years, along with about a dozen teenage boys, were taken hostage by the brother of one of the boys and by an accomplice. We do not know all of the details just yet but the incident ended with the death of one of the hostage takers and the capture of the other.
We have just learned that the man in custody was allegedly involved in the plot to assassinate the President and, at the moment, he is cooperating with the authorities.
Thank you.
Lance then asked the press if they had any questions for President Schroeder, Vice-President Kimball or National Security Advisor Austin. Not surprisingly, the press was all over the announcement of the capture of an unnamed man who might have been responsible at least in part for David’s death. Jeremy’s ascendency to the vice-presidency was quickly forgotten.
It would be some time before we would announce the name of Tariq Tanner, as the release of information had to be done cautiously and under the right circumstances. We certainly wanted to avoid the anti-Muslim hysteria that surrounded the attacks of 9/11 way back in ’01.
It didn’t take long for someone to ask if Tariq would get the death penalty and for someone else to ask the opposite question — if he might get immunity for his cooperation. Trevor declined to comment, however I knew that Tariq had already agreed to cooperate in full in exchange for the death penalty being taken off the table. More than likely he would get life without parole if one of his co-conspirators didn’t knock him off first. I only hoped we could deliver on our promise to protect him while he was in our custody.
“But what about my request?” Altaf asked as the press conference wound down.
“Trevor’s going to be tied up the rest of the day,” I answered. “Perhaps you could have dinner with us this evening and we can discuss it further then.”
The author gratefully acknowledges the invaluable assistance of David of Hope in editing, Low Flyer in proofreading and Ed in beta reading my stories, as well as Gay Authors, Awesome Dude and Nifty for hosting them. © Altimexis 2012