Asking the right questions is often more important than finding the answers
The Rev Dr. Carter Heyward showed me how to trust myself even when—especially when—I didn't have all the answers.
In 1974, when three retired Episcopal bishops “irregularly” ordained eleven women as priests, referred to as the Philadelphia 11, paving the way for formal recognition of women as priests in the Episcopal Church, Carter Heyward was among them (even though we are still blessed that Carter is among the living, because she’s a public figure I’m using her full name). I met Carter in the late 70s while my partner Joy was attending Harvard Divinity School. Carter taught at Episcopal Divinity School, one of the schools at which Harvard students could take classes.
By the time I met Carter, she was breaking down another barrier—coming out as the first Episcopal lesbian priest. One evening, Joy and I attended a casual get-together in her on-campus apartment. A group of mostly students sat on her floor, on the couch, and in chairs scattered around the room. I knew instantly that I was in the presence of greatness—not because others demurred to her or she demanded attention, but rather because of how she exhibited genuineness, honesty, and compassion in her interactions with her students. She engaged people in the room from a place of sincere interest in their lives, as if life were a giant jigsaw puzzle that required each of our pieces to complete. Rather than pontificating about what the students needed to do, she asked them questions—questions that caused them to look at their situations differently, to consider their options.
As I searched for my spiritual identity as a lesbian in the years that followed our first meeting, I poured over Carter’s books on theology, Christian identity, relationships, and boundaries, books such as Saving Jesus from Those Who Are Right: Rethinking What It Means to Be Christian, Touching Our Strength: The Erotic As Power and the Love of God, and When Boundaries Betray Us: Beyond Illusions of What Is Ethical in Therapy and Life. Provocative books that challenge the status quo in ways that no one had done before. As I read her words, I could hear her voice, see the questions written in the lines on her face, and sense her struggles in the search for truth. They helped me form questions I had yet to ask and put pieces of my own life into the right places.
Years later, I reconnected with Carter at the Leaven Retreat Center in Michigan. One day at the retreat, when it became clear we had similar questions about relationships, especially how we care most genuinely for those we love while being true to ourselves, we took a walk on a well-worn path through the woods along the banks of the Grand River. I don’t remember if it was spring or fall, but the day felt crisp as the sun warmed us through gaps in the canopy.
I had ended my relationship with my partner Anne after thirteen years, and although I still loved her, I knew that my future required that I pursue a life without her. I was living with my new chosen family – two women who welcomed me into their home when I made the decision to leave. Carter was struggling with how to stay in a long-term relationship that didn’t provide her with all she needed, while at the same time trying to understand what faithfulness meant.
As we strolled the grounds of the Center, we enjoyed the sunshine, shared our stories, and posed questions—questions that hung in the air like butterflies flitting from plant to plant—never quite landing on an answer. What are the limits that keep us from loving fully? Are they self-imposed? Are they societal? How do we help those we love to understand our personal needs so our relationship can reach its fullest potential? How do we let go when the time comes? How do we know when that time is? How do we handle feelings of jealousy when someone we love has needs that we can’t fulfill? How can we convince someone we still love them when we have needs that they can’t meet?
We admitted we might never have the answers to all our questions, and we agreed that all we could do was continue loving the best way we knew how and trust that would be enough.
When someone as learned and thoughtful as Carter struggled with what it means to be true to yourself and those you love, I knew I was in good company with my unanswered questions. By the end of our walk, I felt affirmed in decisions I had made and where my life was heading.
When I think about relationships today, about permanence and impermanence, about boundaries and boundary crossing, about how to love most fully, I think about Carter and let my questions, rather than my answers, center me.
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