Sometimes I am out of step because I am an eccentric and I just can�t seem to hear the beat. Other times I am out of step because I�ve been drummed out of the corps. This week I found myself in the amazing position of being in step and out of step at the same time. Can that be considered the emotional two-step?

I was on the road on Thursday when the radio broadcast the memorial service from the Pentagon. Within several minutes, I was in step with those people who have reported having flashbacks to other deaths. I found myself transported back to Mr. Philately�s step-brother�s funeral. That death too was a sudden and shocking one that occurred under more emotionally wrenching circumstances than most but I doubt that was the reason for the flashback. No, I had the flashback because that funeral was the other time I felt cast out from the midst of mourners.

Although I am not Christian, I have been to many Christian funerals in my lifetime. I have seen the Lutherans mourn, I have seen the Catholics mourn, I have seen the Episcopalians mourn, and I have seen Christians of various other denominations mourn. When I go to a Christian funeral, I expect Christian content. I expect that content even when the minister knows that many of the mourners are not Christian. I don�t expect people to change their beliefs for me. The mere existence of Christian content in-and-of-itself does not make me feel excluded.

At Step-Brother�s funeral, however, the minister went a step farther. I really should not have been surprised. After all, this minister was the same guy who told a mixed crowd at a wedding that there was no true marriage except through Christ and essentially added that all others who thought they were married were living in sin. The only thing that kept Mr. Philately from walking out of the wedding was his love for Step-Brother and for his family�and that was when Mr. Philately was in a good mood. But the minister still caught me off guard when, after reading that Christian bible section on �My father�s house� (or is it �My father�s mansion?� I know there are mansions in there somewhere), he indicated to the assembled mourners that only Christians mourn.

Luckily Kat, who was extremely traumatized by Step-Brother�s death, was too far gone to hear him. Unfortunately, Day-Hay and Mr. Philately caught it. (To his credit, John, Step-Brother�s uncle who was himself a minister, got up immediately after and spoke of the mourning of a boy back in ancient Israel named David but it was too subtle for Day-Hay and I had to explain what he had done. I will always love John for his kindness.) Instead of concentrating on mourning, I reacted by turning all my anger toward that minister and fantasizing about the conversation we�d have beforehand if he ever had the opportunity to officiate at another family funeral. I was set apart and never really came back together that day.

The minister and the choir at the Pentagon did not go as far as the minister at Step-Brother�s funeral. They did not have to. They were not memorializing only Christians so they did not get the benefit of my rule that when Christians are burying Christians, Christian content alone is not offensive. Chava, a woman that I teach with lost family members who were Jewish. All they had to do, and all they did do, was simply act as though they were burying Christians. They too read the �My father�s house� selection and sang �The Battle Hymn of the Republic� with the dynamics emphasizing the most overtly Christian verse, the one that talks of �Christ was born across the sea.� It felt as though they were making the sign of the cross over those Jewish bodies. The only possible nod to that fact that I heard was very, very subtle and very, very insufficient. The minister spoke of �The Christian Bible� rather than �The New Testament.�

After listening I realized one of the reasons all the American flags make me so uneasy. For all too many people, when one reaches beyond the intellectual level, that flag has an invisible cross on it. To them, at heart, we are a Christian nation. I can wave my flag all I want but it may not be the �right� flag. Mine doesn�t have that cross on it and it never will.

I am a part but only to a point�and if I am feeling this way, imagine how American Muslims are feeling. I�m feeling the two-step. They�re dancing it.

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