Friends in the ministry of all denominations have shared with me their fears of wearing the collar and of letting people know that they are ministers given the intense anti-clerical feelings present in our society these days. I have found myself paralyzed by fear as well. Always the target, I have become more of a target; always on the margins, I find myself today in the margin's farthest reaches. On the fourth of May, three drunks cornered me while I was working and assaulted me verbally and physically, bringing my fears to a head. The rage focused on me that night was simply the projection of these men's sense of betrayal regarding what I represent-the Church. I fully understand their sense of betrayal, for I too have a rage, an anger: the same betrayal. I am not referring only to the Roman Catholic Church, nor the Episcopal, nor the United Methodist, nor the Presbyterian, but to any institution that calls itself "church". Quoting Dorothy Day: "The system is dirty and rotten," and that includes the institutions of the Church that have perpetuated homophobia, sex phobia, racism, sexism, and have subverted the gospel of Jesus for their own survival.

From the time I acknowledged my call to ministry at 13, I was groomed, pampered, and taught that the Church spoke for God. I believed that if the institution did not validate my call, it was not valid. For me, that call comes from the great passion of my life-God in Jesus of Nazareth. At the same time, I began an education of homophobia and sex phobia; if I did not accept this education my rejection from the clergy would be inevitable. I was told that sex was wrong unless it was within a marriage and any deviance from this was sin. My superiors often sought to find "the right girl" for me, because being single "made one suspicious": suspicious of being gay. Experimentation was "sin" and directly prohibited. This mindset produces the oppression of differing forms of sexual expression, of women, of being single, and of varied ways of relating and being.

Ultimately, individuals who cannot live within this view either get out or act out. I acted out, in two major ways. First, through the prostitution that followed my exit from the ministry of my first church affilliation. Second, through my relationship with a young woman. This involvement led to a pregnancy and a subsequent adoption. It was made clear to me that if I was to be a minister this "incident", as it was called, had to be covered up forever. I believed that this cover up was the consequence of my "sin" and that my relationship with God was dependent upon what the Church said. My son was thus adopted out with the provision that he would not know who his biological parents were until he turned 21.

Almost 8 years ago, I found my son in Oregon. He was living on the streets and was heavily involved in drugs. And so I moved West. Zach came to know me as the "friend", the 'priest" who gave him special attention. Four weeks ago, I received word that Zach had died from a drug overdose. His memorial service will be June 27 at Old First Presbyterian Church, 4:00 P.M., Sacramento and Van Ness, San Francisco. I will be officiating.

These weeks since his death have been extremely trying. I have recited the "Liturgy of the Hours" four times a day to remind myself of the loving God who embraces us in our sinfulness, who wants for us to enjoy life, and whose love embraces our differences. As the psalms permeate my day, I am reminded that God too rages at "man's inhumanity to his fellow human beings", particularly that inhumanity that is transmitted through institutions that are supposed to being God's work. I am reminded that my call is validated by God and comes from within: it is not created or bound by any human institution.

Paul's words in Philippians speak for me: It is not that I have reached it yet, or have already finished my course; but I am racing to grasp the prize if possible, since I have been grasped by Christ Jesus. . .I give no thought to what lies behind but push on to what is ahead. My entire attention is on the finish line as I run toward the prize to which God calls me-life on high in Christ Jesus. Amen. During the months of June and July, I will be on sabbatical in Los Angles. It is a time of grieving, of being out of the limelight and of recharging. I have been asked repeatedly, "How do you keep from burning out? How do you keep from letting the pain that you see get to you?" Being vulnerable to others means that one necessarily takes on the pain of others. For me, the past year has been a time of experiencing the darkness and pain of others. I have conducted memorial services for more than 20 people under age 25, all of whom I have loved and suffered with; witnessed two young men under 20 be sentenced to life for murder; witnessed and listened nightly to much suffering and darkness. I have had people project their shadows on me. This is a time for me to step back from the darkness. It is a time, simply, for me to heal.

Manik Chhabra, a Junior at Stanford from Minneapolis, is interning with us this summer. He is living in my apartment and doing outreach for us and doing work on other programs in San Francisco. I am available by phone and will be returning every two weeks to see how things are progressing. Fr. Stephen Bartlett-Re and Ms. Mary Monihan from our board will also share in this supervision.

I am using my own personal money for this summer and have acquired a job at the Santa Monica Pier Amusement Park. Additionally, a few friends are providing some help. Please be assured that any money donated to Temenos will be used to pay work bills only, as always.

With that in mind, I invite you to share with us in our ministry. This summer, especially, we need your support. During this time that I am forced to focus my income and personal funds on my sabbatical, please remember that Temenos's bills continue. Please mail contributions to the above address. Any contribution you could make would be greatly appreciated; I can be reached, any time, at the number listed above.