ELIZABETH ADAMS' GOING TO HEAVEN:* THE ELECTION OF GENE ROBINSON

As you read what I have to say about Elizabeth Adams' Going to Heaven: The Life and Election of Bishop Gene Robinson, perhaps there are some things you should know about me.

First, I consider myself a friend of Beth's; and in her acknowledgements she credits me, among others, with helping her get through the hard times of writing her book. Yes, I tried to support her and encourage her. At the same time, I intend to tell you what I see in the book.

Second, I am the father of a daughter who loves a woman. There is not enough love in the world. I take great joy in their love and their happiness, my daughter's and her partner's.

Third, I was in Catholic seminary for some years, belonged to a Catholic religious order for part of that time, and was under vows for two and a half years. I left that church and that life in despair over the concern for "right thinking" and canon law at a time when we should have been talking about the love of God. I am something of a pantheist now, seeing God in every dooryard, every creek and stream, in the trees, in the tigers and the tiger lilies. If there is anything I bring with me from those days in church, it is two passages from the New Testament: The Gospel of John, Chapter One, Verses 1-10 ("In the beginning was the Word..."); and Matthew, Chapter 5, Verses 3-12 (The Beatitudes).

Fourth, I grew to manhood during "The Age of Aquarius." To the Beatitudes, add these lines from a musical to understand my operating philosophy: "Kids, be free. Do what you want to do, so long as you don't hurt anybody."

Fifth, Dr. Louie Crew, who is a central figure in parts of Going To Heaven, was happily associated with my magazine, Margins, back in the 1970s. It was a pleasure to encounter him again, in this context, and to see his work succeeding.

Sixth, when I had my magazine in Milwaukee in the 1970s, I freely allowed the Gay People's Union to use my equipment to prepare their GPU News for publication.

That said, you know my biases. And my biases don't matter. What matters is the story Elizabeth Adams is telling here, and how she tells it.

First, this is a story, and it is a true story; this is "creative nonfiction." It has the story shape known as "the journey." On one level, this is Gene Robinson's journey, from the darkness of doubt and confusion to the light of God's love; from a fundamentalist background in Kentucky to liberal Episcopalian theology in New Hampshire; from rejection to acceptance. Into Robinson's story Adams has interwoven many related elements and strands, as you would expect she'd have to when writing about the consecration of the Anglican communion's first openly gay bishop.

This is Gene Robinson's story, yet it is Elizabeth Adams' telling of the story. You might wonder why a writer would want to devote herself to such work, for there is not a lot of glamor to be gained here, not a lot of money to be made. The author answers that question right off, in the first pages. The answer has to do with her confirmation as a member of the Episcopal Church in May, 1964 and with her drift away from the church in her unhappiness with women's subservient role and the church's apparent failure to engage the world during the turmoil of the late 1960s and early 1970s. And the answer has to do with Adams's return to the church in the early 1990s, heeding an insistent voice in her head that said, "Go take communion." When she did, she found the church had changed. She had never heard of "the priesthood of all believers" as a child, and now she was hearing that in the church. The church had changed. And Adams had grown, too; she had "increased in the Lord."

Adams had come to know Gene Robinson when he was assistant to the Bishop of New Hampshire, Douglas Theuner. The parish Adams belonged to was struggling with questions of authority, lay and clerical roles, and conservative/liberal theology. "During this painful process," Adams writes, "I was impressed with Gene's low-key but firm manner of facilitating discussion, his consistent charge to all of us to 'speak the truth in love,' his quick intelligence and awareness of subterfuge, manipulation, and other psychological game-playing, and his insistence we take responsibility for our own issues and patterns...."

Gene Robinson's sexual orientation was known to the people of the diocese, Adams writes, but was "regarded as a non-issue by most of the people; his skills as a priest, facilitator and administrator and his personal qualities of approachability, enthusiasm, warmth, and unshakable faith were the characteristics people focused on and which led, eventually, to his election as the successor to the beloved, charismatic, and progressive Douglas Theuner."

This is a compelling story, this Going To Heaven, told in a compelling way. In writing the book, Adams apparently had unlimited access to Robinson and the other players in the story, and was present at many of the events reported. The method most often used here is the interview; that is, Adams allows Robinson and others to tell the story to the greatest extent possible in their own words. She frames the telling, explains the obscure, and bridges the gaps, but for the most part we are hearing the players in the story. Adams keeps their remarks on task, focused to the arc of the story. She fits together the various perspectives and weaves in the sub-plots and related issues; and she makes it all look seamless and of a piece. As one who has interviewed a lot of people himself, who knows how tiring the work is and how difficult the challenge of fitting the pieces together, I am impressed with Adams' work: she makes it seem easy. The telling is smooth and polished. Just when you might have a question, she answers it. Just when you wonder what the opponents of Robinson's consecration might have been thinking, she tells you. Matters are proportionate: larger issues get more space, lesser issues get less space. Adams is a master at laying out the nonfiction story.

How, you might ask, can an author sustain tension and attention in a book about an event with a known outcome? For one thing, to the greatest extent possible, you create a sense of "present tense;" that is, you tell the story in order and build to the climax in the telling, even if that climax is already known. Second, you re-create the events so that they are keenly palpable, so that the reader feels he or she is present as the actions are taking place. And, third, you salt the telling here and there with half-told stories left unresolved, something left dangling until it is tied up later. The story of Robinson's pectoral cross is one such element in Going To Heaven.

Robinson's cross had been made with gold donated for that purpose by church members from all across the diocese. It might have been grandmother's wedding ring that a woman gave for the cross, or a deceased father's gold watch. All those items were melted down and became the gold for Robinson's cross. Yet at some point the cross got lost, and it was never found. The symbolic melting together of all these church members' stories in one pectoral cross was thereby lost. But we are left hanging. We keep waiting for the other shoe to drop. And sure enough, Adams finally resolves the story. It turns out that the goldsmith who made the cross used only half the gold that had been collected. When the original cross was received, the diocese sold the unused gold to the goldsmith for use in other projects. But for some reason, over the ensuing eighteen months, he did not use it. He didn't want to use it, though he didn't know why. When Robinson went to the goldsmith, finally, to order a replacement cross, the fellow said, "I still have this gold." He showed it to Robinson. There was negative space in the sheet of gold where the original cross had been taken. What remained was the margins of the sheet. The symbolic value? Robinson sees the church's work as ministry to those who exist on the margins of society.

So Adams left some threads loose in her telling, left some doors open, and one by one she brings resolution, tying up the threads, closing the doors. This is good story-telling.

It is Gene Robinson's story, yes. And Adams is a Gene Robinson partisan, yes. Why else would you go to so much trouble. I know that Adams struggled to complete the book. Such writing is hard work. Yet as much as she admires Gene Robinson, Adams strives not to distort the stance of opponents to Gene's consecration; she talked at length with key detractors and tried to represent their views faithfully. There are no literary eye-rolls, so to speak. She tries to be fair to the differing views.

It is Gene Robinson's story, and it is the story of the Anglican communion, of which the Episcopalians are a part. Some of the opponents to Robinson's consecration were very un-Christ-like in word and action. I am thinking here about such people as Rev. Earle Fox who felt called by God to testify at Robinson's consecration against his consecration; Adams writes: "In the most explicit language possible, he began to name and describe sexual acts that he accused homosexuals (and only homosexuals, one had to assume) of engaging in, from fellatio to anal intercourse to much more graphic examples. Some 3,000 lay people and hundreds of bishops and priests, including Gene Robinson and his daughters, partner, and parents, were forced to hear these sexual acts not only named but described in the middle of a worship service.... The Presiding Bishop cut the recitation short as quickly as he could. He said, 'I am sure we all know what you are saying. This is a worship service. Please spare us the details and come to your point.'"

One reads this story realizing that the conservative element in the Episcopal Church would prefer to break up the communion rather than allow the progressives to worship with them and take bread at the same table. The struggle is between the conservative notion that religion is a book of rules and the progressive stance that it ought to be a celebration of God's love. Between the conservatives wanting to tell others how to live their lives and the progressives wanting to open their arms to all God's children, even the least of them. The ordination of women had been an earlier battle in the church, and that struggle has not entirely eased. Robinson's consecration adds to the tension. The conservatives want to reserve power to a traditional patriarchal hierarchy, so that right thinking can be enforced; the progressives believe in servant leadership. The struggle among the Anglicans is a reflection of the larger struggle in modern life between the fundamentalist's rigidity and the progressive's openness. Between believing, on the one hand, that God stopped speaking to us when the last jot and tittle of the Bible had been recorded and, on the other hand, that God is still speaking to us today, in myriad ways. It is a struggle between those who would cling to what used to be and those who are working to midwife that which is yet to be born, the kingdom of God.

This is Gene Robinson's story, and it is the story of a lot of unlikely heroes – Gene's ex-wife, his daughters, his partner, the church-goers who elected Robinson bishop, the Presiding Bishop at the consecration, all those bishops who signed on.

This is Gene Robinson's story, and it is God's story. The Lord moves in mysterious ways. "Love one another," Christ said. Perhaps the consecration of Gene Robinson is a test of God's people, to see whether they do indeed love one another. (The answer seems to be No, I'm afraid; we have not come far enough.)

The opponents of Robinson's consecration say they "Love the sinner; hate the sin," which in practice makes homosexuals feel most unwelcome. Gene Robinson, on the other hand, preaches a theology of inclusion, seeking to bring those at the margins of society into the embrace of the church. Which is the work of God? For starters, didn't Jesus include Mary Magdeline, a prostitute?

Beth Adams is a Gene Robinson partisan, yes; she is telling his story. Yet she does not gloss over his human failings and includes here an account of Robinson's 28-day stay in a treatment center in February, 2006, to deal with his alcoholism. Typically, Robinson sees the hand of God at work in this: "Once again, God is proving His desire and ability to bring an Easter out of Good Friday," he wrote to every parish from the treatment center. Later he acknowledged that the experience was "a bit like dying. Everything just stops... you have to face your life exactly as it is at that moment. And you also have to face the fact that life, in which you were so involved, goes on quite well without you."

Adams notes that Robinson "knew himself to be neither angel nor devil, but merely a human being doing the best he could, with God's help."

This is a profoundly human story, and one that is profoundly divine as well. Robinson acknowledges that "maybe why there has been such a furor over me and and what I've accomplished, or whatever God has accomplish within me, is because it goes beyond saying 'I think I'm all right.' It says, 'I think God thinks I'm all right.' That's something new, and I think maybe that's why so many people are interested in this, or angered by it, because in the last decade we've had more and more people coming out, more and more people being self-affirming. Still, self affirmation only goes so far. But if I say, in a clerical collar, that God thinks I'm all right, it carries a different kind of weight: it means I have the audacity to say, 'Not only am I self-affirming, but God is affirming me.' And that is either good news or bad news, depending on where you are."

In the early 1980s Robinson found John Fortunato's book, Embracing the Exile: Healing Journeys for Gay Christians, and found a way to love and give and find meaning, and to heal. The experience of reading Fortunato's book became "the pivotal point in my journey," Robinson says.

"Up until that point," Adams writes, "Gene had wanted to believe the Good News – that he was actually loved by God, just as he was – but after reading the book, he actually did believe it. He finally had the courage and faith necessary to accept his orientation, to reconcile it with his spirituality, and move forward with those two truths at the center of his identity."

Fortunato had written: "Once you know, at the core of your being, that you have a rightful place in God's creation, and that nothing can separate you from the love of God, then it doesn't much matter what people say or do to you. Then you are free to give and love – anyway."

Would that all those who need to hear this message were able to! Fortunately, I think, Gene Robinson's ministry and Going to Heaven together will help carry the word to those who need to know that God loves them. That is the final story here, that the word is going out: "God loves you, and loves you as you are."

Will the Anglican communion survive the consecration of its first openly gay bishop? Gene Robinson hopes so. He hopes not only that the church survives, but that it heals and thrives. He hopes that the turmoil surrounding his consecration dies down and he can do what he was elected to do, which is to serve the members of his church as Bishop of New Hampshire.

Do I think the Anglican communion will survive? No. I believe the conservative faction is determined to break the communion apart. Robinson's consecration will not be the cause of the break-up, but an excuse for the conservatives to do what they have wanted to do all along, which is to sit at a table with only their own kind, rather than with all God's people. That's one outside observer's opinion, for what it's worth.

I don't often pray, but to close let me give up this prayer for Bishop Gene Robinson: "O Heavenly Father, keep him in your heart and lift him up when his burden becomes unbearably heavy. Soothe the burn of this life's scourge. Renew his courage again and again. He is doing Your work, Lord, so comfort him when he needs comforting. And don't let the bastards get him down. In Jesus's name we pray. Amen."

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*Elizabeth Adams, Going to Heaven: The Life and Election of Bishop Gene Robinson. 2006. Soft Skull Press [www.Softskull.com], 55 Washington Street, Suite 804, Brooklyn, NY 11201. $14.95/paper.

Comments

[Dave]

Good job, Tom. I think you hit all the right notes here. My mother read my copy of Going to Heaven as soon as we got it (I'd read it in manuscript), and she couldn't put it down! Even for those of us with no vested interest in the issues at hand (straight, unchurched), it's still a page-turner.

[Lorianne]

Hooray, and amen! I've not yet started Beth's book; it's sitting on my nightstand waiting for me to finish several other halfway-finished books so I can devote my full attention to it. I can't wait to get started.

In the meantime, I absolutely love what you said in your list of caveats:

"Second, I am the father of a daughter who loves a woman. There is not enough love in the world. I take great joy in their love and their happiness, my daughter's and her partner's."

I think that's the most perfect expression of acceptance & fatherly love I've ever heard so succinctly stated. Again, hooray!

[Natalie]

Tom, this is a stunning review, a work of art in its own right. Beth's book deserves to be read and appreciated in the way of you have done and I hope this appraisal of it will follow the book far and wide. I also am very moved by your inclusion of your own personal background as it relates to the book's theme. You're the sort of reader/reviewer that every author dreams of. It's a gift, and you've used it here to perfection.

[Beth]

Natalie said it: this is the sort of reading and reviewing that every author dreams of. Thank you, Tom, more than I can say, for this warm and comprehensive and, most of all, personal reading of my work.

[marja-leena]

Wow, Tom, this is a very strong and personal review! The others have already said it so well, especially Natalie. I agree that your own personal background in the church in the past and your love and acceptance of family lend power to your obeservations. It also takes a gifted writer to express everything so well. Now I am even more anxious to get my copy of this book, coming in the mail in a few days I hope.

[Tom Montag]

Dave, I agree it's a page-turner, in the sense it is a compelling story, and one of interest not just to a select few. Beth did a terrific job of holding the focus in the wealth of materials, of keeping us informed about where we are in the story, and of moving things along. At least those are the elements that kept me turning the page.

[Tom Montag]

Lorianne--thanks! And might I suggest that you put GOING TO HEAVEN at the top of the pile. Those other books on your night stand CAN WAIT. :)

[Tom Montag]

Natalie--thanks! I find it takes a good and powerful book to evoke a good response. A review is a re-view, after all. And Beth's is a good a powerful book.

I find as I've gotten older that I don't want to write "reviews" so much as "appreciations." I want to come at each book I talk about in the same fashion that I hope readers/writers would come at my books if and when they chose to talk about them. As for the personal background included here, I hope it helps to show how high the stakes are in the greater struggle between those who would tells us how to live our lives and those who would embrace us.

[Tom Montag]

Marja-Leena--Thank you so much. I do hope my appreciation will help to get the book noticed and read and understood by a little larger circle of readers. In my experience, "reviews" don't sell many books, but they do sometimes bring the subject to the table, frame the discussion, and start things off. If even one reader comes to understanding because of my words here, that is success.

[Tom Montag]

Thank you, Beth. I wish you all the success this book deserves. You've done a terrific job and can be rightfully proud of it.

[Rachel]

Tom, this is a dazzling review of what is, I agree, a dazzlingly good book. As it happens, I've been working on my own response to the book, which makes me appreciate yours all the more. You've hit a great many important nails right on the head, here. Thank you.