Category: Life

I Have a Gay Cousin…

~ Fr. John Chagnon ~ Leave a comment

and I discovered that he recently married his long time partner, so all the stuff in the news these days has come a little closer to home.

My mother has met my cousin’s partner and apparently he’s a pretty nice guy. He’s an academic, a musician, and they have a nice home where they’ve lived together for years. There’s a beautiful garden in the yard and a certain kind of domestic stability that pervades the place. Had the judge not overturned their state’s laws on marriage and given them the opportunity to wed they would still be together as they have been for years. This is their house, their place, and their life.

It’s been decades since I’ve seen my cousin and years since we’ve talked, briefly, on the phone. The last surviving member of his immediate family, I only have a picture in my head of what he looks like and mostly I remember his paintings on the walls of their cabin on the lake. The son of my dad’s older sister I can’t say we’ve ever been close. In fact I don’t recall being close to any of the family on my dad’s side of the equation. So, in some ways. there is a distance between me and the news that he had married his partner.

I know what I’m not going to do. I’m not going to ostracize. I’m not going to despise. I’m not going to yell, badger, or harass. There will be no phone calls with Bible in hand and, if by chance, we meet some time we’ll talk of old times, look at some of his paintings, and catch up on all the years gone by.

Of course its hard for me in a way, but not the way most people may think. I was part of a team that spearheaded the introduction of HIV care to a health care facility. I’ve been a health care chaplain. I’ve watched good men, witty, bright, artistic, interesting, full of life, who happened to be gay, get sick and die. It wasn’t pretty. It wasn’t good. It bore very little resemblance to the movie “Philadelphia”. Above all it was just sad.

The truth is that the image of a young man I cared for in tears, full of the realization that the man he looked to for love and happiness gave him an incurable illness, is stuck in my head and probably will be for the rest of my life. I see the statistics. I keep up on the health news. To be a sexual person in these United States is like running a gauntlet and for folks who identify as gay the risks are even higher. That’s not hate, just medical fact and there’s absolutely no joy or sense of “I told you so” in any of it. As a Christian I’ve given my life to helping make other people’s lives better and my heart aches in the face of human suffering. I’m glad my cousin has a steady place to be and people who care for him, as I understand it that’s not always been the case, but I also don’t want him to be another name on some quilt.

So, yes I worry a bit and pray, a lot. I cannot change anyone else. It’s enough that I struggle to change myself. I don’t have to agree with the choices other people make or the life they live as a condition for caring for them or having them as family or friends, so my door will always be open for anyone come what may. If there really is some kind of culture war to be fought I will fight it in my prayer corner and with loving service to others in confidence that God will shine His light where it is most needed.

Yes, my cousin is gay and married. But God isn’t finished with him, or me, yet.

 

 

 

 

Which is Worse…

~ Fr. John Chagnon ~ Leave a comment

the fact that people in darkness are acting out of that darkness or that the people who claim to have Light have been apathetic in the face of the darkness around them? Perhaps the greater judgment will be, not on the people around us who are acting out of a darkness that has made them blind, but rather on those of us who claim to see clearly and have done next to nothing to help those who cannot see.

The Guitar Playing Priest…

~ Fr. John Chagnon ~ Leave a comment

Apparently that’s how I was described a few days ago and there’s some truth to it. I do make music out on the town a few times a month and its also part of my work with seniors in Assisted Living. On the whole it was something that has always seemed “natural” for me and in my life music has been one of the constants. Yet, the truth is I rarely play the guitar and my “bread and butter” instruments are the bass and the ukulele.

Although I’ve made a little money at it, music is basically a serious hobby for me. When you serve others there’s a need to have things to fill you up for whatever you give away. I do enjoy being with people, and I’ve spent most of my life caring for them, but there are times when an hour or two with music can be remarkably refreshing. Sometimes people can’t imagine the clergy in their lives having, well, a life outside of the church. We do. I like, among other things, westerns on TV, reading history, traveling, and music. As I write this I’m on the couch and wearing a baseball jersey from a local minor league team and athletic pants. I never have slept in my vestments and my house doesn’t smell like incense.

And my life, like many people’s, is quite varied. I’m neither a full-time Priest or a full-time musician. When I’m not helping out as I can at St. George Church here in Minnesota I travel to other parishes around the area filling in when their Priests are ill, on vacation, or need to be away. I’ve served in probably 20 different parishes in a five state area and I’ve had the privilege of serving overseas as well. Two other out-of-state parishes are in my plans for the coming months. In fact, the original name of this blog was actually “The Traveling Priest Chronicles” and if the reader cares to read back far enough they can hear the tales of the various places I’ve been along the way. When I’m not doing that, I work with Seniors in Assisted Living to pay the bills with another kind of ministry, and once in a while someone gives me some money for my music. Sometimes when there are gaps in this blog it’s because I’m out and about somewhere doing something and time just slips away.

I actually don’t mind the travel. It’s good to see new things and be with new people. I hope some day to be able to serve a parish as a Priest in Residence but things haven’t worked out that way quite yet and so I do what I can and try to help people where the opportunity rises. Until a more settled time presents itself I consider myself a kind of missionary, a Priest out and about, mixing and mingling with people in a variety of places and hoping to share some grace wherever I go. That I happen to be a sometimes gigging musician is just a plus because it gets me in to places where my collar may not.

Overall, that may be the point. Whatever our situations we can be the presence of Christ where we are, being who God wants us to be wherever our talents or travels take us. Wherever I am is where my ministry is, and that truth applies to every Christian. Precious time is sometimes wasted by people seeking out some kind of “call” when, in fact, the very place they live, work, make music, or do whatever they do is, in fact, their call, their mission, and, as it were, their parish.

One day, perhaps, I’ll get that letter from the Bishop and there will be a single place for me. Until then wherever I am is where God has something for me to do and I plan on doing it until I’m told otherwise.

 

 

Indeed…

~ Fr. John Chagnon ~ Leave a comment

From the spiritual diary of St. John of Kronstadt, “My Life in Christ”

 

What do I need? There is nothing on earth that I need, except that which is most essential. What do I need, what is most essential? I need the Lord, I need His grace, His kingdom within me. On earth, which is the place of my wanderings, my temporary being, there is nothing that is truly mine, everything belongs to God and is temporal, everything serves my needs temporarily. What do I need? I need true and active Christian love; I need a loving heart which takes compassion on its neighbors; I need joy over their prosperity and well-being, and sorrow over their sorrows and illnesses, their sins, failings, disorders, woes, poverty; I need warm and sincere compassion for all the circumstances of their lives, joy for those who are joyous and tears for those who are in tears. Enough of selfishness, egoism, living only for oneself and acquiring everything only for oneself: riches, pleasures, the glory of this world; enough of spiritual dying instead of living, grieving instead of rejoicing, and carrying within oneself the poison of selfishness, for selfishness is a poison that is continuously poured into our hearts by Satan. O, let me cry out with King David: Whom have I in heaven but Thee? and there is none upon earth that I desire besides Thee. My flesh and my heart fail, but God is the strength of my heart. Grant me, O Lord, true life, dispel the darkness of my passions, disperse their power with Thy strength, for with Thee all things are possible

I Suppose You Like to Play Russian Roulette…

~ Fr. John Chagnon ~ Leave a comment

she said as she walked by.

I knew what she meant. She was talking about what others had talked about as well. Going to Africa, 20 hours and a world away by plane, when all the headlines are screaming “Ebola” at the top of their lungs. There was no sense in using logic, talking about the facts, showing people maps. All everyone heard was “Africa” and “Ebola” on the TV and nothing else seemed to matter.

They asked my boss if I was gong to be quarantined when I came back. I understand the consternation, but I’m saddened at how emotion has made everyone afraid of things with which they don’t have to be consumed. There are many countries in Africa but only four at the present have people with Ebola. My destination is more than the length of the United States away from the countries that do, and on and on, facts trying to climb the walls of emotion and take down a castle bit of misinformation. Still, when my plane takes off and heads east there will be questions.

I have my own as well. Will people want to be around me when I return? I’m a Priest and I wonder if people will take the Holy Gifts from me, hug me, or kiss my hand (although I’m not crazy about that anyway)? On my return will there be some magic day when all of it goes away and people feel safe around me even though the country where I am going , Uganda, has no Ebola and the realistic chances of me getting it are winning the lottery slim and my spreading is even longer odds?

Still, I’m going to go.

Some of it is, to be truthful, about the travel and adventure, both things I enjoy. When I was a child I would devour National Geographic and I’ve been around the world many times in my mind. Now its going to happen, for real. I love the diversity of culture and land and people and all the magnificent tapestry of creation and if I was a wealthy man I would probably invest that wealth in little else than taking it all in. There is beauty and grace everywhere because the One who called it into being is the very definition of both.

Yet, there’s more.

You see, the story of Jesus is true. When Jesus came to us God came to live with us, teach us, heal us, bear our sorrows, conquer our fears, overcome our sins, and join us to himself. Somewhere deep inside of me, even when my life wasn’t and isn’t always reflective of this Truth, I still understood and understand that it is real, authentic, and good. Of all the messages, all the claims to truth, all the words that could be spoken, what words would be better than those that tell the story of Jesus and invite people into a living encounter with a God who loves them more than they will ever understand? Not just a matter of duty, it should be our joy to proclaim, in word and deed, this hope for the world, especially in these challenging times. What hardness of heart would keep this most precious reality away from those we love, or, for that matter, anyone who crosses our path? What cause could be greater than to live this life and help people anywhere possible to come to know the Lord of Life?

I have so much to learn, about life, about Faith, about being a Priest. All I can do is go where I can help, listen, and serve. Most of the time all of that will happen right here where I’ve been planted. Some of the time there are things that need to be done in a far away place. Regardless, I’m in God’s hands and whatever else happens the glory is His.

 

 

Fort Frances, Ontario…

~ Fr. John Chagnon ~ Leave a comment

smells like a paper mill. Which means that it either smells like someone just passed wind next to you or money if you happen to have one of the good jobs at the mill. It costs you six dollars, as well, just to cross a winding bridge through the paper mill to get to the Canadian side of the river from International Falls, Minnesota, on the US side. With the smell and the industrial mishmash of a bridge it makes for one of the least attractive ways to travel from one country to the other that I know.

Yet travel we needed to do because our hope was to make it to Nestor Falls near the Lake of the Woods some time around noon. Already we had snaked north and slightly west through the north woods of Minnesota. Now just one turn left through Fort Frances and a few kilometers, which apparently the locals call kill-oh-meters, and we’d arrive.

We’d done this before, of course, crossing in to Canada. It used to be routine, almost like a joy ride. Show the nice man in the Canadian uniform your driver’s license, tell him you’re not taking booze or guns into his country, and off you go. This time, though, the guy at the other side of the bridge was a young man, surly, with close cropped hair, speech, and apparently an itch somewhere he couldn’t scratch. A little slip of the tongue and out came the attitude. The crime was forgetting to mention we had a ten dollar light fixture we were bringing in to the country for the purpose of, well, replacing a light fixture where we were going. For this lapse of memory we were subject to a scolding about how we should pay attention to the questions and listen the next time we came into Canada. The whole thing seemed like the satisfaction of a little dog barking through the window of its house at passerby.

Yet we were off on our way and soon the miles, I mean the kill-oh-meters, rolled under our tires. In this part of western Ontario there are a few small towns that hug the border with the US and even a hundred miles north finds you in dense, nearly impenetrable, woods. Only a few mining roads provide some access and anglers need to fly into the remote lakes by float plane. Even power, or “hydro” as they call it, only goes so far and an hour north of the border cell phone service is nearly non-existent.

And that’s why, in part, we came.

Nestor Falls and its companion village, Sioux Narrows, hold no more than a thousand souls at the peak of occupancy and many of them simply go south and leave their homes and businesses to the cold in the winter. Mostly people work for the tourists and US dollars are standard currency. The ground is hard, rock with a slim layer of soil for cover, so homes and the necessary plumbing need to be spread out. No one has a basement. Almost everyone owns a boat.

When we arrived at the cabin on Big Pine Lake it was as it had always been, a large lake with one resort and a handful of cabins. The Crown owned the rest of the land and they weren’t in the mood to sell any of it. Trees, eagles, forest covered islands with no human touch, all of it was there as it had been for years. Less than a day from Minneapolis and it felt like the edge of the known world.The cabin had power and flush toilets, even satellite TV, but out there, just at the edge of the sky was wild land, places where you could get lost if you weren’t careful, places where the things you could take for granted elsewhere would be a source of struggle here.

And although we slept with a roof over our heads and a fully functioning bathroom just down the hall, it was good to be near those wild places. I can understand why monks and seekers of truth would shed all the trappings of urbanity and seek God in such environs Not too far from the safety of our cabin were places where simple truths mattered and a kind of wisdom could be obtained in the rigors of surviving in that world. To make a life in such places would require one to be fully alive, fully aware, and constantly surrounded by the immensity of creation and the smallness of humanity. Being even on the edge of it had a spiritual quality, being alive in it may have the quality of living in a temple.

It was too soon before the clock and life and the demands of money and civilization forced us back south again. Home is where the neighbors are close and we are not on the edge of anything, let alone a wild, untamed, and spiritual wilderness. I live here and try as best as possible to seek out God’s face, for He is truly present here as well. Still it was good, surly border agents and paper mill smells included, to be away for a few days on the edge of the forest. There are possibilities out there and possibilities for me as well if I can keep a sense of it within.

For Your Contemplation…

~ Fr. John Chagnon ~ Leave a comment
Death to the World

‘The only place where modern man does not like to visit is himself. He cannot hear the silence, he does not want to hear the voice of his conscience. But without knowing yourself you can not know God. Modern man lives in a shadowy world of TV, the media, the Internet, but the greatest reality in the world is the human soul. Inside we can open up the kingdom of heaven; in our heart God wants to be born!”

+Bishop Panteleimon (Shatov), 21st Century Russian Hierarch