"We called it a Salad-bration, and a number of folks from the church came over that afternoon, along with various other friends. Many pitched in and it was really a delightful time. We had had a previous dinner in the house some months ago in January, when a good number of our friends who were living with AIDS came over for a potluck. People were taking notice of what we were doing, and we were like two activist monastics working in the community with AIDS sufferers, male and female and trans sex workers and various gay men and women, often marginalized by their own community. But we didn't get the kind of recognition we would have needed, and I think that it was because we were so hard to categorize or pigeon hole. Even when we had almost nothing left, we would take street beggars for a bite to eat. We were agreed that it wasn't our money but God's, that our lives were not our own, but God's, and this really empowered our work and ministry.
The Salad-bration, unfortunately earned us a powerful enemy at St. Alban's, the church in Richmond. There was a woman there who thought herself very important and absolutely essential to the work of God. Apparently there is one of those in every Anglican parish. We first met her at the noonday eucharists at the cathedral downtown. She took a real interest in us when it became clear that we were also going to be a presence in Richmond We apparently gravely insulted her, and I'm still not sure how. We mentioned how she reminded us of a friend of ours, who also was a guest at the party. She took one look at him and apparently took grave offense that she would remind us of him, perhaps because they were both rather fat, unattractive and self-important, but at least our male friend had a sense of humour . She spent the rest of the time sitting inside her husband's car in a profound sulk. It can take but one tear in the thread to unravel the entire tapestry..."
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