A Dream Deferred

Ever since the dastardly communiqué was issued by the primates from Tanzania, I've been slavishly reading news sites and the blogs of Episcopalians and Anglicans. I can recognize there is some logic in what our Presiding Bishop is counseling: that we "pause," that we "fast for a season." I also get very, very angry about that request sometimes. And sometimes I am very, very far beyond sad that she would ask this of us.

In all of this, I recently recalled this most marvelous poem.

Dream Deferred (Langston Hughes)

What happens to a dream deferred?
Does it dry up
Like a raisin in the sun?
Or fester like a sore--
And then run?
Does it stink like rotten meat?
Or crust and sugar over--
like a syrupy sweet?
Maybe it just sags
like a heavy load.
Or does it explode?

I hear echoes of that question in the writings of gay men and lesbians in our church, and in my own conflicted reaction. We have many options as we hear this dream of welcome may be deferred. And especially in hearing the request for deferral come from Bishop Katharine--someone we thought we could trust.

I'm still trying to figure out my own response.