Open Hands Vol 17 No 1 - You are the Beloved! Healing Self Rejection

Open Hands Vol 17 No 1 - You are the Beloved! Healing Self Rejection

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2001

Summer

2 Open Hands
Vol. 17 No. 1 Summer 2001
Shaping an Inclusive Church
Affirming Congregation Programme
More Light Presbyterians
Open & Affirming Ministries
Open and Affirming Program
Reconciling Ministries Network
Reconciling in Christ Program
Welcoming & Affirming Baptists
Executive Publisher
Marilyn Alexander
Editor
Chris Glaser
Designer
In Print—Jan Graves
Editorial Advisory Committee
Jeff Balter, RIC
Vaughn Beckman, O&A
Daphne Burt, RIC
Ann Marie Coleman, ONA
Chris Copeland, W&A
Gwynne Guibord, MCC
Bobbi Hargleroad, MLP
Tom Harshman, O&A
Alyson Huntly, ACP
Bonnie Kelly, ACP
Susan Laurie, RCP
Samuel E. Loliger, ONA
Ruth Moerdyk, SCN
Caroline Presnell, RCP
Paul Santillán, RCP
Julie Sevig, RIC
Kelly Sprinkle, W&A
Kathy Stayton, W&A
Margarita Suaréz, ONA
Judith Hoch Wray, O&A
and Program Coordinators
Open Hands is the quarterly magazine of the
welcoming movement, a consortium of programs
that support individuals and congregations
in efforts to welcome lesbians, gay men,
bisexuals, and transgenders in all areas of church
life. Open Hands was founded and is published
by the Reconciling Congregation Program, Inc.
of the Reconciling Ministries Network (United
Methodist), in cooperation with the six ecumenical
partners listed above. Each program is
a national network of local congregations and
ministries that publicly affirm their welcome of
LGBT people, their families and friends. These
seven programs, along with Supportive Congregations
(Brethren/Mennonite [www.webcom.
com/bmc], Oasis Congregations (Episcopal),
Welcoming Congregations (Unitarian Universalist),
and INCLUSIVE Congregations (United
Kingdom), as well as the Universal Fellowship
of Metropolitan Community Churches—offer
hope that the church can be a more inclusive
community.
Subscription is $20 for four issues ($25 outside
the U.S.). Single copies and back issues are
$6; quantities of 10 or more, $4 each.
Subscriptions, requests for advertising
rates, and other business correspondence
should be sent to:
Open Hands
3801 N. Keeler Avenue
Chicago, IL 60641
Phone: 773/736-5526
Fax: 773/736-5475
openhands@RMNetwork.org
www.RMNetwork.org/openhands/index.html
Member, The Associated Church Press
© 2001
Reconciling Congregation Program, Inc.
Open Hands is a registered trademark.
ISSN 0888-8833
Printed on recycled paper.
YOU ARE THE BELOVED!
Healing Self-Rejection
The Denial of Love 4
A Non-Heterosexual Interpretation of Peter’s Denial
“GEORGIA POWERS”
Denying our love and the ones we love.
Belief and Belovedness 9
ROBERTA SHOWALTER KREIDER
Naming and claiming a brother.
Coming Home to Myself 13
My Not So Private Jubilee
NANCY L. WILSON
“If we knew we were going to live this long, we would have
taken better care of ourselves!”
Pride is Faith in Our Belovedness 19
CHRIS GLASER
“Pride is faith in the idea that God had when God made us.”
SUSTAINING THE SPIRIT
Meditations: Text, Reflection, Prayer or Affirmation
Escape for Your Life CRAIG WASHINGTON 4
Jesus Found Me ANN AMIDEO 6
God Says, “I Love You.” BOB JOHNSON 8
My Ordination DIANN NEU 10
Out of Fundamentalism DESMOND K. PARSONS 12
Love Made Personal SANDRA BOCHONOK 14
The Power of Grace BOB LODWICK 15
“I Have Called You by Name.” JOANNE CARLSON BROWN 18
Fear is Such a Hassle MARY HUNT 20
Errata for Winter 2001 issue (Vol. 16, No. 3): In the sidebar of sample homepages of
youth groups on page 31, timeoutyouth.com should be timeoutyouth.org. And the
Welcoming churches insert incorrectly lists Central United Methodist Church of Ann
Arbor in Detroit. We apologize!
Summer 2001 3
Publisher
Reconciling Congregation Program, Inc. (UMC)
Reconciling Ministries Network
Marilyn Alexander, Coordinator
3801 N. Keeler Avenue, Chicago, IL 60641
773/736-5526
www.RMNetwork.org
Ecumenical Partners
Affirming Congregation Programme
(United Church of Canada)
Ron Coughlin, Coordinator
P.O. Box 333, Station Q, Toronto, Ontario
CANADA M4T 2M5
416/466-1489
www.affirmunited.org • acpucc@aol.com
More Light Presbyterians (PCUSA)
Michael J. Adee, Coordinator
369 Montezuma Ave. PMB #447
Santa Fe, NM 87501-2626
505/820-7082
www.mlp.org
Open & Affirming Ministries
(Disciples of Christ)
John Wade Payne, Interim Coordinator
P.O. Box 44400, Indianapolis, IN 46244
941/728-8833
www.sacredplaces.com/glad
Open and Affirming Program (UCC)
Ann B. Day, Coordinator
P.O. Box 403, Holden, MA 01520
508/856-9316
www.UCCcoalition.org
Reconciling in Christ Program (Lutheran)
Bob Gibeling, Coordinator
2466 Sharondale Drive, Atlanta, GA 30305
404/266-9615
www.lcna.org
Welcoming & Affirming Baptists (ABC/USA)
Brenda J. Moulton, Coordinator
P.O. Box 2596, Attleboro Falls, MA 02763
508/226-1945
users.aol.com/wabaptists
MINISTRIES
Family
When Our Son Came Out of the Closet, We Went In. 23
DALE MERKLE
Youth
Saved Twice 24
BRIAN CAVE
Children
All Kinds of Families 25
LIZ ALEXANDER
Connections
Scotland 2000 26
DONN CRAIL
Welcoming
A Welcoming Strategy for Your Denomination 27
BOB GIBELING
Outreach
A Call to the Church: Open the Door! 28
HARRY KNOX
MOVEMENT NEWS ............................ 30
WELCOMING COMMUNITIES ........... 31
NEXT ISSUE: OUR COAT OF MANY COLORS
Creativity in the Face of Oppression
Call for articles and columns for
Open Hands Spring 2002
How I Changed My Mind
Profiles in Grace and Courage
Theme Section: Like Jesus’ parable of the laborers of the vineyard, each of us came to
the Welcoming “vineyard” at different times, yet we share the same blessing that
inclusivity offers. Church leaders and congregations, denominations and parents,
children and siblings (in faith and in family) have experienced conversions galore
that have transformed them into Welcoming activists. Open Hands is looking for
personal (first person and third person), congregational, and denominational stories
of those who have reversed their positions on lesbians, gay men, bisexuals, and
transgenders. Please include author photos, self-descriptions, and addresses, as well as any
photos relevant to an article.
Any length up to 2500 words per article.
Ministries Section: Columns may include: Welcoming (the process of becoming
welcoming), Connections (with other justice issues), Worship, Spirituality, Retreats,
Resources (books and videos), Outreach, Leadership, Marriage, Health, Youth, Campus,
Children, and Family. These brief articles may or may not have to do with the
theme of the issue.
750-1000 words.
Contact with ideas as far before deadline as possible.
Manuscript deadline: February 1, 2002
Chris Glaser, Phone/Fax 404/622-4222 or e-mail at ChrsGlaser@aol.com
991 Berne St. SE, Atlanta, GA 30316-1859 USA
www.ChrisGlaser.com
4 Open Hands
“
Escape for Your Life
Much biblical interpretation
done in the name of gay, lesbian,
bisexual and transgender
persons has focused on “correcting”
traditional interpretations, or on
celebrating same-gender love, i.e.,
David and Jonathan, Naomi and Ruth.
But when we read the Bible, we bring
our whole selves to the whole text. So
what can any text say to us?
I write as a middle-class, middle-aged
woman who is a lesbian bisexual of
Western European descent born in the
United States. I believe that what I write
about here can be applied to most persons
who are in same-gender, physically
intimate relationships. I do not believe
I write for every person who is non-heterosexual,
and I dare not begin to speak
for transgender persons. But I hope this
proves helpful, sparking others to interpret
the Bible from their own perspectives.
Matthew 26:69-75
All four Gospels include the prediction
and episode of Peter’s denial
of Jesus. All have the prediction preceded
by Peter declaring that he will
follow Jesus anywhere. And only John
does not note that Peter wept after realizing
that he had denied Jesus as predicted.
Gay and lesbian persons, and bisexual
persons in same-gender relation-
The Denial of Love
A Non-Heterosexual Interpretation of Peter’s Denial
“Georgia Powers”
“Run Mourner Run.” Traditional arranged
by Bernice Johnson Reagon from the album
“Live at Carnegie Hall” by Sweet Honey In The Rock.
aren’t getting the plea, the exhortation infused in them by
Bernice’s voice or the swelling refrain “bright angels above” as
sung by those other bright angels that accompany her. I got it.
And that is what helped me make it over.
As fleeting spring gave out to an oppressive summer last year,
my road got more than a little rocky. In May, just before Mother’s
Day, I had ended a long distance relationship that had lasted for
about a year. I had eventually accepted that I was not getting
the love I wanted from him and that he was no longer interested
in our relationship and was waiting for me to “get it.”
A month later, the board chair of my organization offered
me a choice of either accepting a lower position with substantially
lower pay or submitting a letter of resignation and getting
a severance package. My take on it is that they expected more
than they prepared me to give. I chose the latter—that is, the
letter and the package.
For the rest of that dreamslow summer, I smoked and drank
strong coffee every morning while looking out over the lake
behind my apartment. I wrote terse, cryptic entries in my journal.
I could not bear such reflection for more than two or three
sentences at a time. I searched for codes of inspiration etched in
the sun-sprinkled ripples that slid toward my terrace. The twofisted
blow was more poetic than brutal. Both “relationships”
Run, Mourner, Run” is a stirring hymn that in many ways
exemplifies the transformative power of African American
spiritual music. Like several such classics, its lyrics
are as simple as they are profound. As sung by Sweet Honey In
The Rock, a five-woman a cappella ensemble, this hymn is at
once brooding and uplifting, laden with layered messages and
coded implications.
“Oh run, run, mourner run, bright angels above,” lead singer
Bernice Reagon beckons. The mourner, whom we can assume
has experienced some tragic loss, is admonished to run—indeed,
escape for her life. Though she may still be in mourning, she
faces even more danger, most likely death, if she does not heed
the song’s caution. Then the singer, we may assume as mourner,
repeats three times “I would fly away to the kingdom, bright
angels above,” then concludes the sentence by stating only once
“if I had just had two wings.” Bernice augments the lyric “escape
for your life” with improvisations that heighten the songs
urgency, i.e, “you just got to escape for your life.”
I have cried several times already in my attempt to convey to
you what this song has come to mean to me. As with many
African American spirituals, the power of the lyric is extrapolated,
its meaning complicated, its mood repainted, by the singers’
delivery. And when you read the above quoted words, you
Oh run, run, mourner run, bright angels above…
If I had two wings, bright angels above,
I would fly away to the kingdom, bright angels above,
Escape for your life, bright angels above.
Summer 2001 5
had been long-distance. I had never felt so isolated and such
a longing for connection and support as during the course of
both relationships. By summer’s end I felt inadequate, ugly, stupid
and at 40, old.
I had been listening to “Sweet Honey In The Rock” for 15
years but I’d never paid much attention to “Run, Mourner, Run.”
The weight of my life and this new time on my hands pushed me
back in my seat and made me listen. I could relate to the mourner
as I had been grieving over the loss of several promises. The
promise of love and companionship, a fulfilling job and steady
income. Never mind that I was actually deeply dissatisfied with
both relationships and was better off without them. I was mourning
the death of illusions.
The line “I would fly away to the kingdom if I just had two
wings,” would trouble me hours after I had listened to it. I’d
begun to realize that this is what I was telling myself. I would do
this, if I just had that. I was making excuses for not moving, and
marinating in my own tears. As long as I believed my life was
raining down on me, I didn’t have to assume responsibility for
it. By this time, “Run” had become my morning sun. It awakened
me and illuminated my path so that I could rediscover my
life. I would ponder Bernice’s declaration, “you just gotta escape
for your life (bright angels above).” More a command than
a warning, it said to me that I was letting my life drip out slow
and steady and that I had to “run,” to “escape” the victim’s
grave in which I had buried myself.
Eventually I started dancing to this song naked in front of the
mirrored wall in my living room. I would dance and cry, out of
joy or pain or both. I would go about my day with the conviction
that God wanted me to heal and forgive and let joy rush
back in to my life. That I had to run, to escape the negative
thinking that imprisoned my creativity. Escape for my life, which,
like a forest burnt black by a long dry season, in time was restored.
I began to see myself as one of those bright angels above,
no longer wishing for the two wings I had all the time. I pushed
myself to write at length in my journal at least every other day.
I started writing goals for myself and taking measurable steps to
build the kind of life I wanted. I found myself thinking less about
the recent past and more about my present. My outlook and
inner view started changing before any external changes (no
new boyfriend or fab job) took place.
These days, I find that I cry a lot less (at least out of pain),
and I have more access to my private joy. A joy that is not
contingent upon the events of the day or the words and deeds
of others. A joy that burns quietly with a burnished glow deep
inside me. “Run, Mourner, Run” reminded me of possibilities
that allowed me to reconnect to the divinity within me.
“Rejoice and be exceedingly glad, for great is your
reward.”
Jesus in Matthew 5:12
Craig Washington designed and managed HIV prevention
programs for African Americans through AID Atlanta
(1992-1999). He was the co-chair of Second Sunday,
a Black gay men’s support organization and
vice-chair of the Metro Atlanta HIV Health Services Planning
Council. He currently serves as executive director
for The Center, Atlanta’s LGBT Community Resource.
ships, often have created a community
of people with whom they can be “out.”
Such a group becomes a chosen family
with whom they can relax and feel comfortable
and from whom they can receive
support. There are also many published
resources available to which they
can turn for further support, though
these publications are often not kept on
a “public” book shelf in their homes,
and may come through the mail in plain
brown wrappers. Outside of large cities,
the taverns or other gathering places
to which they go are often referred to
by pseudonyms in conversation and
may not have entrances on the street,
let alone signs to identify that they are
even there.
Understanding the sense of community
that gay, lesbian, and bisexual persons
try to develop is important. Jesus
and the disciples, especially the “inner
circle,” developed a similar community—
they trusted each other, they confided
in each other, they had their own
patterns and rituals. So when, we1 encounter
the text saying “they had sung
the hymn” (vs. 30), we can imagine
ourselves with our friends singing along
to an Indigo Girls or a Cher CD. The
stage is now set; please join me in the
details.
Denial Predicted
As Jesus and the disciples are hanging
out on the Mount of Olives,
Jesus says something shocking: They
will all run away from him when trouble
comes (vs. 31). (He does assure them that
he will wait for them in Galilee.)
Peter’s words—“I will never desert
you” (vs. 33)— are familiar to us. Peter
is caught up in the emotions of the
evening. He blurts out that he will never
leave Jesus. We know what this is like.
When we feel safe and secure in our
community, we feel that it could never
end, and that to introduce any doubt
about that endurance is to ruin the
moment, to let the sadness and pain
win.
Jesus however knows that this time
will end— as wonderful as the time spent
together has been, “reality” will interrupt
it. He also knows that it is important
to remember this so that the
present time of community can be held
more dearly. Thus, he gives them a sign
by which to remember this special time:
the cock crow. The disciple Peter is
6 Open Hands
asked to remember this time when
he hears the rooster crow. We too have
signs that remind us of our time together:
think rainbow flag or the pink
triangle.
But the sign of the rooster crow is
followed by Jesus’ reminder of reality
again—“you will deny me” (vs. 34). As
wonderful as this special time with his
chosen family is, Peter will still find
himself denying Jesus to save himself.
We recognize this because we know that
at some point we may find we have to
deny our feelings for the ones we love,
or deny who we are, even though we
are proud of our relationships and who
we are.
John’s Gospel has Peter responding
“I will lay down my life for you.” Here
are words that echo ones that we in
same-gender relationships can never
publicly declare, “till death do us part,”
in a legal marriage ceremony. Like Peter,
the readers will declare this in private,
within their community. And it is
within this setting that Peter often declares
what he feels. He does not declare
his feelings in front of strangers,
and, as he does at Jesus’ first prediction
of his death (Matthew 16:13-23), Peter
speaks his most intimate fears to Jesus
away from the others.
The Denial
Jesus is accused and on trial. Peter cannot
stay away, but puts some distance
between himself and Jesus (vs. 69). So
he sits in the courtyard, a public place.
In that context, we can suspect that he
is trying to remain calm, to look nonchalant.
There are several things that
could be going through his mind: he
has given everything up for this; he does
not want to be “next;” and Jesus, one
he loves, is in big trouble. Peter is truly
frightened that he too will be accused
and sent to trial.
We may see in this our own situation
if we are connected to someone
who is very publicly “out” or someone
who has been beaten or killed for being
gay or lesbian. We closeted readers
(whether closeted as LGBT, family, or
allies) will be afraid that we will be publicly
connected with this person and be
asked to explain our relationship with
her or him. We do not want to be the
next one to be beaten or killed. So when
Jesus Found Me
When Jesus heard that they had thrown him out,
he went and found him… John 9:35
Ibelong to a support group for Catholic families of LGBT
people. Religiously, I hear a dire concern echoed by the mothers
and fathers. “I worry my son/daughter will never return
to church.” A harsh reality rears its ugly head. Institutionalized Church
is still dangerous territory for LGBT people. For many Christians, leaving
church is often equated with leaving God.
The paradox of my Christian journey is that I did not meet the living,
incarnate Word of God (Jesus) until I was rejected by my church and
family. In the Gospel of John, the man born blind reveals his miraculous
healing to the temple leadership and warrants expulsion because he
challenges traditional beliefs and threatens authority. Similarly, when I
announced God’s healing of my own shame-based homophobia, I was
put out of both church and home.
Utterly alone and wandering aimlessly, Jesus found me. He found
me in the long and lonely car drive searching for a new home. He
found me in my tear-soaked bed amid the darkness of midnight hours.
He found me drifting in parks seeking solace in nature. He found me in
the friend who believed in my worth and goodness as a beloved gay
child of God. Ironically, it was outside the walls of institutional religion
that Jesus became authentically manifest to me. He found me when I
was most wounded and vulnerable.
Hindsight reveals a silver lining to the cloud of rejection by the institutional
church. Gay and lesbian Christians acquire a razor-sharp distinction
between an all-loving God and a self-made religion. The two,
after all, can be mutually exclusive. A wise friend of mine sums up
human interaction in one sentence. “It seems to me there are two
types of behaviors in the world. One says, ‘Come here’ and the other
say, ‘Go away.’” I am still ambivalent about inclusion within religious
institutions. However, if and when I am asked to “go away,” I am certain
that Jesus will find me, wherever I am.
Jesus, when the world around me shouts “go away,” may I
rest in knowing you will search and find me in the ordinary
places of my life.
Ann Amideo holds a Master’s Degree in Theology from the
Seminary of the Immaculate Conception in New York. She was
instrumental in initiating a ministry for Catholic/Christian Parents
of Gay/Lesbian Children in the Roman Catholic Diocese of
Rockville Centre, New York. She continues to facilitate ecumenical
prayer groups for gay/lesbian people and their families. Ann
continues to write and speak on religious injustices toward sexual
minorities.
Summer 2001 7
someone, a stranger, connects us with
the other person, as the servant-girl connected
Peter to Jesus the Galilean, (vs.
69b-70) our first response may be a denial
in the form of a feigned confusion
at the question “Who? I do not know
who you are talking about.” We may
then, like Peter, move some place else
to try to show our lack of concern for
what is taking place nearby.
Peter’s second denial (vs. 71) is preceded
by a public accusation; the second
servant girl tells the crowd that he
is connected with Jesus of Nazareth, a
more specific designation than Jesus the
Galilean. Here Matthew and Mark
record that Peter swore as he said, specifically
this time, that he did not know
Jesus (vs. 72). They also record that the
third accusation came from the group,
and it was an accusation with proof—
the accent in his speech.
We will fear this most— direct accusations
with proof. If not accused and
forced to lie, we can pretend that others
do not know and then we can feel
safe. Proof, for some, can be their speech
patterns. For others, the proof could be
that someone recognizes a sign or a gesture.
Other proof could be that we were
seen with the person at incriminating
places (“This man was with Jesus”). Our
denials would escalate, from feigned
confusion to flat denial to fearful denial.
(The NRSV translations of Matthew,
Luke, and John end Peter’s third
denial with an exclamation point.) This
triple accusation is what we fear the
most. If we have to deny who we are
and with whom we are three times it
means that we are likely not to be believed
and therefore we are in great danger
of being discovered, being out-ed,
and at risk for the repercussions.
The Sign
Now, Peter hears the rooster crow
(vs. 74b); he hears the reminder of
the relationship that Jesus gave him, of
the depth of feeling that he has. Peter
needed that audible reminder to realize
what he had done— that he had denied
his relationship with the one person
he loved the most. The same holds
true for us in our own denials of those
we love or the LGBT community to
which we belong—we would suddenly
realize what we had done and what it
means to us and to the person and community
we love. That person, that community,
needs loving support, and we
have just denied that love.
The rooster crowing,
or whatever sign we have
of our love, would be a
painful reminder of the
shame that is laid upon
such a relationship. We
would realize that we are
weak, that we have internalized
the homophobia
or bi-phobia (fear of bisexual
persons) that the
people around us exhibit.
We might have to go
away from that place, as
Peter “went out,” (vs.
75b) and find ourselves
weeping bitterly because
of the pain we are feeling.
This pain is for many
things; for our shame at
both the denial and the
weakness, for the hurt
done to the person and community we
love, for the injustice of it all, for the
feeling of the hopelessness of it all, and
for the feeling of utter and irrevocable
defeat.
Redemption
When we find ourselves in similar
situations, we must remember
that all is not lost. All was not lost for
Peter in his act of denial. He was the
only one of the disciples who followed
Jesus to the point of danger. Thus, he
kept part of his promise, as Matthew and
Mark report: Peter did not desert Jesus;
and as John reports: Peter did follow
Jesus. Peter had the courage of his love
of Jesus to even take the chance of being
recognized. Thus, when the rooster
crowed after he denied Jesus, Peter realized
that his courage which brought
him there was not enough to risk his
life for the person he loved. We are
likely to understand this. As much as
we may love our loved one, the courage
that this love gives us may not be enough
when the loved one needs it the most.
But the reminder that Peter has in
the crowing rooster can also be a sign
of hope. The rooster primarily crows
to greet the dawn. It communicates
strength and courage for another day.
Signs such as the pink triangle, which
was used by the Nazis to identify homosexuals
who were later “exterminated”
in concentration camps, are used
today as symbols of pride. Thus, even
though we may weep for our denial of
love and connection, the sign is there
to give us strength and courage. Christians
in general use the cross for this
purpose; what was once a sign of degradation
and humiliating death is now
a symbol of the gift that God has given
us all through Christ.
For Peter, what brings redemption is
Pentecost. Prior to this, as John records,
Peter was just simply going to go back
to his former means of living: fishing
Pentecost, for Peter, is when he is finally able,
when he finally has the strength and courage,
to speak in public what he feels and believes.
Oh, Lazarus,
you were four days in the tomb.
Did you feel the decay of your body?
Did you sense the loss of your spirit?
“Come out!” he cried.
And out you came.
Your spirit returned.
Your body restored.
All you needed was to shed your
grave clothes,
the clothing of fear and loss.
“Georgia Powers”
God Says,
“I Love You.”
O Lord, you have searched me and known me.
Psalm 139:1 (NRSV)
Iwas 32 years old, attending an event at Tatamagouche
Centre, a United Church of Canada educational/retreat
centre in Nova Scotia. The weekend began with a devotional
reflection on Psalm 139. One of the leaders invited us to
follow along as the whole psalm was read to us. Then we were
invited to relax, “get comfortable,” close our eyes and listen for
what might be new, different, exciting as the psalm was read to us.
Following a lengthy silence, we were invited to read the psalm, a
third time, in unison. WOW!!
Two unshatterable truths came upon me in that process. They
have not been shaken since. First, God knows me through and
through. God knows me better than I know myself. God has known
me and will know me forever. There are no secrets about my self
that I am able to hide from God. Scrap the theological term for
this, said I, just know that you are fully known by God. Then,
rushing in upon that intimate awareness, came an even greater
truth: With all this knowledge of me, God still clearly and sincerely
says, “I love you… I love you… I love YOU just the way you
are!…just the way I made you, warts and all.”
I had been preaching that “gospel” to others for over twelve
years. I preached it quite convincingly. Now, I was finally, personally
convinced. God loves the gay man he created, the gay man he
called into ministry. Now I can love “me” too!
God, fully aware of me, and all your children, loving us
without limit and without condition, help us never to
doubt or forget such love.
Bob Johnson, an ordained minister of the
United Church of Canada, has been on a journey
of self-awareness and self-acceptance for the past
twenty years. Presently he serves the newest Aff
irming congregation, Centenary-Queen Square
United Church, in inner city Saint John, New
Brunswick. The congregation has welcomed him
for himself so warmly and completely that his journey
has been much enriched and greatly moved
forward.
(John 21:3 and following verses).2 This
is often the way in which we respond.
We may find ourselves simply going on
as before, hiding in the “closet” and
continuing with the double life we
lived. This is a defeat. This is why there
may be a higher rate of alcoholism and
suicide for gay, lesbian and bisexual persons
than for the rest of the population.
To live a double life, to live with part of
ourselves hidden away is to live as a
broken person. If we are lucky, we can
weave a seemingly “normal” appearance
to present to the rest of the world
and still maintain our closest relationships.
But we are still hiding.
Pentecost, for Peter, is when he is finally
able, when he finally has the
strength and courage, to speak in public
what he feels and believes. That is
the message for us. Christ is with us forever.
Our relationships can survive a denial
because Christ can give us the
strength to go on. With Christ, we can
find the courage to speak out and live
through the worst of what we feared:
loss of job, family, safety. The victory
of Christ is a message of hope, a message
that in this suffering there will be
the joy of living as spiritually whole
persons. There is hope that our worst
fears may never be realized. The resurrection
tells us that, even if our worst
fears are realized, justice will be triumphant,
that the defeat is not the end.
Because of the act of speaking out, lives
will be saved and new community will
be formed.
“Georgia Powers” is a United Methodist
clergywoman who deeply desires to follow
God’s call, even if it is from the closet. The
author’s pseudonym is respectfully taken
from Georgia Harkness and Jeanne Audrey
Powers.
Notes
1I am using we, even though I know I do
not speak for everyone However, to say
“they” makes it too impersonal. Please remember,
when I say “we” I know gay, lesbian,
bisexual and transgender persons are
not homogeneous.
2Ed. note: Franciscan priest Richard Rohr has
pointed out that Peter’s three-fold denial is
balanced by his three-fold affirmation of
love for Jesus in this passage, in which the
resurrected Jesus asks Peter three times if
he loves him.
8 Open Hands
Summer 2001 9
Gay people do not have a monopoly
on feeling unloved and
rejected. I suspect that one of
the roots of bigotry and domination so
evident in our churches and society today
is a feeling of insecurity and fear of
rejection. To make other people conform
to our wishes gives us a feeling of
power and control. Our self-worth is
much dependent on “what will people
think or say if I do this or don’t do that?”
Those words, drilled into me from childhood,
have hounded me all my life.
I grew up in a home where my
mother often sang of God’s
grace with poignant longing.
However, I didn’t receive a lot
of grace. Favor was something
to be earned, and no matter
how hard I tried, I could never
quite measure up to please my
father. In retrospect, I have come to realize
that he was probably never able
to please his father either. I have not
always succeeded in helping my own
children to feel appreciated. I am slowly
learning how to give compliments instead
of criticism. By God’s grace I am
making progress. I am grateful to witness
the superb job of parenting our
own children are doing. God’s gracious
miracle of grace and love is breaking
the cycle of emotional abuse and domination
of generations.
I grew up in a church that taught me
about love and grace, but measured out
huge doses of condemnation. One of
those experiences of judgment happened
to my family when I was one year
old. As I grow older, I realize more and
more the impact that experience has
had on my life.
My Father’s Sin
My father had been a bridge builder,
a farmer, and a schoolteacher.
When he had an opportunity to become
president of a bank in a small town, my
parents moved about 45 miles to that
new community. The town was so small
that we jokingly referred to it as “a wide
space in the road.” It was situated in an
Amish and Mennonite community.
In the Mennonite Church of that day
it was customary to bring a letter of
recommendation from the previous
church when you wanted to transfer
membership from one congregation to
another. My parents were active in the
church they had come from and they
had “good” church letters to present.
However, my father immediately ran
into a problem. The policy of the congregation
had been that insurance was
not biblical. As a banker, my father
wrote insurance policies. A great debate
ensued as to whether he could be a
member of the church and write insurance
policies. The verdict was negative!
I was a very sensitive child. I have
always deeply loved God and wanted
more than anything else to please God.
It troubled me much that my father did
not go to church with the rest of us. I
was afraid he would go to hell! So, I
prayed earnestly for my daddy. As I remember
it, I prayed for him every day
until he died. When he died, following
a tragic accident at 67 years of age, it
was a very traumatic experience for me.
I believe that God is able to make all
things work for good in our lives. That
painful experience of rejection of my
father by the church has enabled me to
feel deeply the pain and rejection of the
people the church calls “sinners” today.
My Brother’s Shame
I had three older siblings. They were
all brothers. One of my deep desires
was to have a sister. When I was threegoing-
on-four years old, my parents told
me that we were going to have a baby.
My immediate reaction was to say very
vehemently, “Well, if it’s a boy, I’m
going to take him out and bury him!”
When the baby was born, it was a boy!
Probably hoping to relieve my disappointment,
my parents told me that I
could name him. I forgot all about my
threat to bury him in the joy of naming
and claiming my baby brother. I felt very
responsible for him.
We grew up in the usual way that
siblings do. Ray and I were playmates,
friends, and sometimes confidantes. On
his wedding day, my husband and I
were alone with Ray in his apartment
for awhile before the ceremony.
He said to me, “Oh,
Roberta, I am so scared, so
scared!” Of course, he couldn’t
tell me the real reason for his
fear. My reaction would probably
have been very dramatic.
When I was 58 years old, I received
the shock of my life. My brother Ray
became ill and was hospitalized for tests.
He was in the hospital many weeks, and
though I called him almost every Saturday,
I could never find out the diagnosis
or prognosis of his disease. Finally,
it became evident to me that Ray
wanted very much for us to visit him.
The next weekend my husband and I
drove from our home in eastern Pennsylvania
to Chicago to comfort him and
tell him good-bye.
It is difficult to describe to you what
it was like to walk into that hospital
room and see the emaciated body of my
brother. Another brother and his wife
were with us also. After we all hugged
him and sat down, there was an awkward
silence. Then I, always the talkative
one, said, “Ray, as we were driving
through the mountains of Pennsylvania
yesterday, the clouds were so beautiful.
They reminded me of when we were
children and used to climb up on the
chicken house roof to talk and watch
the clouds. Do you remember the time
we saw a cloud that we thought looked
That painful experience of rejection of my
father by the church has enabled me to
feel deeply the pain and rejection of the
people the church calls “sinners” today.
10 Open Hands
Wisdom [Sophia] has built her house.
She has set up her seven pillars. …
She has mixed her wine.
She has set her table.
She has sent out her women servants to call from the highest places in the town,
“Come eat my bread and drink the wine I have mixed.
Leave immaturity, and live, and walk in the way of Wisdom-Sophia.”
Proverbs 9:1-3, 5-6
Twenty-one years ago another Jesuit ordination took place at the Cathedral in
Oakland, California. After studying together for three years, my male classmates
were ordained. The six of us women who were equally called, ready, willing, and
able, were not.
My feminist colleagues and I protested this action by educating the community of the
Graduate Theological Union about the theology of feminist ministry. The week before the
ordination we passed out fliers which stated the injustice of ordaining men only, named the
varieties of ministries within the church that women and others marginalized do, and called
the church to recognize renewed priestly ministry in its midst. We reminded the community
that we are called into priestly ministry through baptism. On the day of ordination we
stood outside the cathedral and offered everyone a daisy. Since daisies are everywhere in
Berkeley we chose them as a metaphor for the many ministries communities need, call
forth, and challenge churches to recognize.
After the kyriarchal ordination, my community of women and men “ordained” me.
Gathered on the rooftop of the building in which we lived, surrounded by the San Francisco
Bay, they each gave me a shell to symbolize my gifts, blessed me with water, and sent
me forth to minister with women and marginalized people.
Looking back on this experience I know that I am called by my community to welcoming
ministry. This foundational experience confirms for me that I am God’s beloved. Called by
Wisdom-Sophia since birth to feminist, welcoming, renewed priestly ministry, I act on this
call daily. Listening to the voices of the LGBT community, I respond by engaging in social
justice work to make the world safe for all of us: serving the marginalized, teaching the
young, counseling the confused, gathering the community for liturgy and Eucharist. Wisdom
Sophia has called me, a lesbian, to image her in the healing of creation.
Blessed are you, Wisdom-Sophia, Beloved on the Journey, for weaving my life
with yours and calling me to do your work of social justice.
Diann Neu, a remarkably inventive creator of liturgies, and her partner Mary Hunt are cofounders
and co-directors of WATER, the Women’s Alliance for Theology, Ethics and Ritual
in Silver Spring MD, 8035 13th Street, Silver Spring MD 20910, 301-589-2509; Fax 301-589-
3150; dneu@hers.com.
My Ordination
Summer 2001 11
like Jesus and his disciples in a little
boat? We thought that maybe they were
coming to take us home to heaven.”
He answered, “Oh, Roberta, I’ve
been thinking about that a lot!” The
memory was probably more vivid for
him than for me because he had such a
remarkable memory. Then he was ready
to tell us his story.
He said, “I have a sad story to tell
you. I have AIDS.” My mind was racing
ahead, searching for what I knew about
AIDS. Grasping for an acceptable reason,
I thought, “He’s a nurse, that’s how
he got it.” However, his next words, “I
have no one to blame but myself,”
quickly shattered that hope. Then he
added wistfully, as if he really hoped
we would understand, but doubted that
we could, “My sexual fantasies have always
been with men.”
To this day, I can vividly remember
the pain and shame in his face as he
told us his story. It was very evident that
he was going to die. We were allowed
only two brief visits with him that weekend.
We assured him of our love and
care for him and he assured us that he
was ready to meet God. The time together
was too short. I talked to him
the following Saturday on the phone
for a few minutes; then, two weeks after
we had hugged him last, he died.
We flew to my home state of Kansas
for the memorial service. A letter of condolence
for my sister-in-law and her
children from the governor of the state
was shared with accolades for his excellent
service, and colleagues in the
nursing profession gave him high
praise. The pastor’s sermon was built
around the story of “The Prodigal Son”
from the Gospel of Luke. This led
into an account of the reason for my
brother’s death. It was painful to sit
among the people we grew up with and
feel the shock waves as they heard this
information for the first time.
Once again our family was in disgrace
and vulnerable to gossip behind
our backs. It was comforting to return
to my own home and feel the love of
my own church family. I felt sorry for
my siblings who still lived in Kansas.
Yet I did not escape the pain and shame
connected with my brother’s death. It
dogged me for ten years. As I endeavored
to cope with my loss and feelings
of shame, I read much and questioned
people. I tried to determine what
changed my brother so drastically from
the sibling I thought I had grown up
with. Everything I read enforced the
judgment that homosexuality is a
learned experience, a chosen one. Consequently,
I became a strong advocate
to “keep the church pure” and allow
no non-celibate gay individuals to be
members. I was sure they needed to repent
and change their ways. Then an
event happened that began a series of
experiences that changed my life forever.
From Shame to
Belovedness
Delegates to our Mennonite Church
District Conference discovered
that one of its congregations had members
living in same-gender committed
relationships. Over two years of debate
ensued and, as a result, the congregation’s
membership in our conference
was terminated. As a retired minister my
husband still had voting privileges in
the conference. When we realized that
this controversy was coming to a head
we both agreed that it is not fair to vote
about other people’s lives when we have
not listened to their stories and learned
to know them. So, we began to diligently
seek out resources that presented
the “other side” of the debate and we
visited the offending congregation to
know the people there. Learning to
know lesbian and gay people and listening
to their stories brought a completely
different perspective to the dialogue
and we became convinced that
we were wrong in our way of seeing
biblical truth.
In many ways the Mennonite
Church of today had seemed to me to
be much more caring and understanding
of human needs than the church I
grew up in. I had confidence that my
church would never again allow anyone
to be pushed out because they
wrote insurance or wore a tie. In all my
years I had never experienced a whole
congregation being expelled from a
church conference. I can no longer say
that, and my confidence in my Mennonite
denomination has been shattered.
I am not certain when I became acquainted
with Henri Nouwen’s books.
Hand in hand with my searching to
understand the homosexual situation
was a longing to have a deeper relationship
with God and I began to read books
of contemplative scholars. When I
heard quotes from Nouwen in a sermon,
my interest was piqued and I
checked my first Nouwen book out of
our church library. After that, I read
every book by my friend, Henri, that I
could find, and purchased some of them
for my own treasures. After reading Life
of the Beloved, I was able to say with assurance,
“Yes! I, too, am God’s Beloved
and it doesn’t depend on my performance.”
I believe that God’s love is al-
Yes! I, too, am God’s Beloved and it
doesn’t depend on my performance.
12 Open Hands
Out of
Fundamentalism
When Pilate saw that he was getting nowhere, but that
instead an uproar was starting, he took water and washed
his hands in front of the crowd. “I am innocent of this
man’s blood,” he said. “It is your responsibility!”
All the people answered,
“Let his blood be on us and on our children!”
Matthew 27:24-25 (NIV)
ways with me and does not change no
matter what I do. I can respond to that
kind of love with joy and a deep desire
to do only that which pleases the one
who loves me so deeply.
As my understanding of sexual diversity
grew I intuitively felt that between
the lines of Henri’s writings I
could hear the heart cry of a gay man.
After attending a retreat at Kirkridge
Retreat Center in Bangor, Pennsylvania,
that centered around the writings of
Nouwen, I felt more strongly than ever
that Henri was of gay orientation. In
1999, his biographer, Michael Ford,
confirmed my intuition in his book,
Wounded Prophet: A Portrait of Henri J.
M. Nouwen. This knowledge was another
affirmation to me of God’s leading
in my life to become an advocate
for GLBT people. In God’s great providence,
one of the writers who influenced
me most toward a deeper relationship
with my Creator was a gay
man!
Ironically, the people I feared became
one of the greatest blessings of
my life. I am experiencing a freedom I
never knew before of God’s Spirit moving
in my life and connecting with others
in life-giving ways. My circle of GLBT
friends continues to grow. I thank God
for the diversity of God’s creation and
for the joy I have in being a part of the
lives of such beautiful, sensitive, and
loving individuals. They teach me
much. I hug to my heart the good news
that I truly am God’s Beloved and it gives
me great joy to assure all people who
so desperately need to hear the message,
that they, too, are God’s Beloved.
Roberta Showalter Kreider and her husband,
Rev. Harold Kreider, are advocates
for GLBT people. Roberta has edited From
Wounded Hearts:
Faith Stories of Lesbian,
Gay, Bisexual,
and Transgendered
People and Those
Who Love Them.
This anthology of 49
stories told in 50 chapters
is available from Chi Rho Press of
Gaithersburg, MD. Order from the website:
www.ChiRhoPress.com. In Canada, order
from e-mail: mapenterprises@home.com
As an undergraduate student studying religious studies, I
struggled with my own fundamentalist background. Every
time the professor explained that part of the text
was historically improbable or that it related to events of the times
of the writers and were not historically accurate, a voice in me
protested. I knew that God’s Word spoke, and in my case condemned
me for being gay.
The sun was pouring into the windows of the temporary
building which housed our class on the winter morning
when our professor lectured on Matthew’s account of
the trial of Jesus before Pilate. Even through the years of
indoctrination, I could see that the cry “Let his blood be
on us and on our children!” was an unlikely chant for any
group at any time to take up. I started to listen to the
theories that the writer was either antisemitic or was trying
to make the Romans less responsible for the death of
Jesus. And I started to think that the Jews had gotten a
raw deal in that account.
Realizing that the writer, and not God, was antisemitic, made
me realize that those verses in the Bible that I thought condemned
me were not about me. The parts of the Bible that tell us we’re
wrong because we’re Jews, gays, lesbians, bisexuals, or transgender
are about someone else’s fears or ambitions. And the parts of the
Bible that show the agenda of certain writers help us to see that
God does not hate us because of who we are. Although those
passages can be painful, there is freedom in studying them; marvelously,
the word can free us, even when it seems to be at its worst.
Breathe Life into us through your living word and make
us see your message through the mists of time.
Desmond K. Parsons and his partner Dean Penney have been openly gay
in their congregations in the United Church of Canada at Gower Street in St.
John’s and at Memorial United in Grand Falls-Windsor for years. Desmond
writes with humor, “I recently joined Aff irm [the LGBT group in the United
Church of Canada], which was very lazy of me, because I’ve been gay for
years.”
Summer 2001 13
Last year I turned 50. All during my
49th year I wanted it not to be a
big deal. But it was.
I remembered the saying once popular
among GLBT activists, “If we knew
we were going to live this long, we
would have taken better care of ourselves!”
In my 49th year, that saying haunted
me. Through years of overworking that
sometimes bordered on the reckless,
juggling the demanding life of a pastor
of a Metropolitan Community Church
in a very large city, which included the
worst years of AIDS deaths, activism that
included civil disobedience, an earthquake,
national and international responsibilities
for MCC, trying to write,
and have a life, I had become the lesbian/
religious/activist version of a “super
mom.” A cliché in some ways.
People would gush at me and say “How
to do you do it?”
When I stopped long enough to figure
out how I did it, it wasn’t a pretty
picture, as those closest to me could
testify.
But thankfully, I reached 50! Exhausted,
but I got there. Amazing. My
only serious health problem continued
to be lifelong, chronic asthma. But, I
felt so much more fragile than I wanted
to let on. I had been restless and depressed
in my 49th year. Irritable and
angry, and trying to cover it up and not
notice.
It is said that we replace our body
cells every seven years. At 49, I was completing
my seventh whole body, and
about to begin my eighth. As a preacher
for nearly 30 years, it occurred to me
that my body was having it’s own Jubilee.
But it was as if I could not dare to
own that, or embrace it. My heart and
mind and spirit were not prepared to
walk with my body through this journey.
There are lots of self-help books on
turning 50, symptomatic of babyboomer
self-obsessiveness, but I wanted
to read none of them. I didn’t really
want to deal with it. Someone pointed
out to me that part of what happens to
us when we turn 50 is that the phrase,
“the rest of your life” suddenly has
meaning and definition! “The rest of
your life” is now more nearly quantifiable
in a way it was not just a year before.
We come up against limits— the
ultimate limit, our mortality. We will
not live and love and fight for justice
forever.
Three years before, while tidepooling
at my favorite vacation spot near Morro
Bay, California, I fell on the slippery,
algae-covered rocks while walking
much too fast (a lifelong habit!). I fell
hard, and for the next year had to do
physical therapy, having seriously aggravated
a minor back problem into a
major one. At the moment I fell, I realized
that the day would come when I
would no longer be fit enough to jump
over the rocks and hike the trails near
the Pacific that I love.
It was a horrifying moment of grief
and loss, anticipating the loss of agility,
of physical and mental skills, of life
itself. I experienced the foreshadowing
of much greater loss. The loss of some
dreams, ambitions. I pushed those fleeting,
momentary thoughts way back,
deep within me. That was the start of
my journey toward 50. In some unhealthy
ways I had become proud of my
“super mom” resilience and workaholism:
a secret cherished pride that for
me, “went before a fall.”
I had to do a lot of work healing my
young, asthmatic child, who coped with
mortal fear by “counterphobically”
imagining myself to be, and even striving
for, indestructibility. Thank God for
my fall, which did not kill me, but
slowed me down.
Speed Leas of the Alban Institute has
done some work with MCC leaders on
the concept of “polarities,” that is, that
there are ideas or needs that seem to be
in opposition that serve us best if we
do not collapse the tension between
them, but allow that tension to keep us
in dynamic balance. I have found three
necessary polarities for “GLBT religious
activists turning 50.”
Sun City or Tahiti?
Security vs. Risk-Taking
I have found myself very conflicted
in this time of my life between these
two impulses. Is this the time I should
be working hard to save for retirement
(oops, most of us baby-boomer activists
completely spaced that one!), paying
down my mortgage (God! Who ever
thought I would actually own anything!)?
Or is this the time to totally
remake my life, go for the unfulfilled
dream, to have a genuine mid-life crisis?
Go to Tahiti with Gauguin and
paint? Or should I settle down, start
looking into retirement options?
Some of my best teachers in this have
been friends and family in there seventies,
my mother included. I can hear her
saying to me “You think 50 is bad, wait
until you turn 70!” Watching her survive
widowhood, embrace retirement,
take care of herself financially, learn to
love travel, to brave new adventures is
very heartening. My friend Malcolm
Boyd, at a vigorous 78, talks in terms of
wondering “if you have one more shipwreck
left in you”! He has an eternally
youthful mischievousness, while plung-
Coming Home to Myself
My Not So Private Jubilee
Nancy L. Wilson
Being a GLBT religious leader is not for sissies.
14 Open Hands
ing into the tasks and challenges of each
decade with courage and wisdom. That
prayerful wisdom that sustained him in
Selma during the civil rights movement
now sustains him as a writer and teacher
nearing 80.
Part of the struggle that GLBT activists
my age face who have been doing
this all of our adult lives is that we sacrificed
security to be in this movement.
We have been underpaid, uninsured,
with little or no job security. What we
could get by with in our twenties and
thirties we find we cannot put up with
in our fifties and sixties. In our twenties
and even in our thirties security
didn’t matter so much to us. It was a
dirty word. Bourgeois. We really didn’t
expect to live this long, and, of course
many of us didn’t.
We were often psychologically exhausted
as well as financially depleted.
For many of us (I was fortunate enough
to be an exception) it may seem there
is no sabbatical, or possibility to let
down, and limited professional options.
We may have no pension, no savings,
and no kids to take care of us.
For many of us, some, most, or all of
our male friends died in the 80’s and
early 90’s. Many of our women friends
in the movement dropped out, disappeared.
Many paid high prices for activism,
without recognition, and certainly
without material rewards.
A few months before going on sab-
Love Made Personal
I met love made personal on Holy Saturday
2001 through eight panels of the world
famous AIDS Memorial Quilt. A Unitarian
Church along with the County Health District,
OUTKitsap, PFLAG, and the West Olympic Council
for the Arts had sponsored the exhibit. I was
invited to provide an indoor labyrinth for viewers.
The labyrinth would provide a safe contemplative
walking space for visitors to be with their feelings
and thoughts as they gazed at the hanging panels of
the Quilt made by friends, lovers and family
members.
I had seen the immensity of the Quilt when displayed
in the Washington D.C. Mall in October
1996. It provided a dramatic testimony of the devastating
and tragic loss of life in the HIV/AIDS pandemic.
I remember being overwhelmed at seeing
so many names, with so many endearing photos
and other memorabilia which honored individuals
who have died of AIDS.
Yet I was also deeply touched with our local exhibit
while lingering in the labyrinth and gazing closely
at the Quilt. “He was born, he lived a little, and
then he died.” “I am a better man for having known
him.” “Beloved son, brother, grandson, uncle and
friend.” “We cared about each other.” “He was
our sunshine.”A grieving father later approached
me and introduced me to his beloved son’s panel. I
listened as he spoke of how much his son meant to
him and how he still missed him years later. Later
in the afternoon, a grieving sister introduced me to
her beloved brother’s panel with tears glistening in
her eyes. Through them, I met love made personal.
I left that afternoon awed at all the love experienced.
Love is the greatest life force the world will
ever know. As long as we remember the names of
loved ones, we honor their lives and belovedness in
our hearts.
Help each of us live his or her belovedness, O
God. Amen.
Sandra Bochonok, Ph.D., is a
UFMCC minister serving an international
community of seekers through
the website www.soulfoodministry.
org. She authored a daily devotional,
Living as the Beloved: One Day at a
Time. Her book is available through
www.chirhopress.com beginning November
2001. For more details about
the AIDS Memorial Quilt, visit www.
aidsquilt.org. For more information about labyrinths, visit
www.labyrinthsociety.org.
Beloved, let us love one another, because love
is from God; everyone who loves is born of
God and knows God.
1 John 4:7 NRSV
Summer 2001 15
batical, a life-saving event for me, I
heard Rev. Jim Mitulski, then pastor of
MCC San Francisco, describe the posttraumatic
stress that GLBT leaders experienced
during the 15 most intense
years of AIDS deaths. He said, “Maybe
some day we’ll actually have 15 minutes
to process all that we went through.”
Some piece of denial cracked open in me
upon hearing that, and I took that “15
minutes” over the next year.
During the same months that I was
healing whole on sabbatical, I made two
trips to Africa, both work-related, but
with significant time to travel with my
nature-loving, photographer spouse. I
became a devoted bird-watcher, and I
started writing poems. I eventually quit
my job of nearly 15 years as pastor of
MCC Los Angeles, while keeping another,
part-time job, without having a
real plan in place.
Everyday I feel the pull of each side
of this polarity of security and risk-taking.
Risk-taking, up until now, seemed
the only viable option, the only life
worth living. But if I am going to be an
ornery 80-year-old lesbian still occasionally
walking on the beach and daring
the tide pools, I had better start changing
my ways. I have to repent of the
ways I have not respected the limits of
my mind and body and strength. I had
better learn to lean on God in new ways,
to strengthen the systems and relationships
that will strengthen me. I have to
of what others might think. I became whole that
day and had a whole new insight into my ministry
and appreciation for my beautiful gay and lesbian
friends. I have never looked back.
That very same year, 1974, my Dutch/English
songwriter friend, Fred Kaan, wrote a hymn which
became imbedded in my psyche and which enriches
many of our hymnals.
Help us accept each other as Christ accepted us;
Teach us as sister, brother, each person to embrace.
Be present, Lord, among us, and bring us to believe
We are ourselves accepted and meant to love and live.
© 1975 Hope Publishing Company
Our God, who created us, says, “Have no fear.
I have called you by name, you are mine.
You are precious to me and honored and I
love you.”
Bob Lodwick is a Presbyterian minister
who retired as the PC(USA)’s representative
to the churches in Europe and the
Middle East. He is the author of Remembering
the Future: The Challenge of the
Churches in Europe (NY: Friendship
Press, 1995). He is married and has three grown children.
The Power of Grace
Help us accept each other, beginning with me!
The days were dark and bleak. I knew I
was gay but I did not admit it to myself. I
thought the idea and the impulses for
years. I hated the very thought of being gay. How
could I be in ministry and seek to be a servant of
Christ and be gay? The internal struggle was intense
until one day, a beloved friend introduced me to
Paul Tillich, the German theologian. Jim asked me
to read Tillich’s sermons, “You are Accepted.” I
did so and the Holy Spirit must have been in both
his words and working in my mind. Tillich wrote,
And in the light of this grace we perceive
the power of grace in our relation to ourselves.
We experience moments in which we accept
ourselves, because we feel that we have been
accepted by that which is greater than we. If
only more such moments were given to us! For
it is such moments that make us love our life,
that make us accept ourselves, not in our goodness
and self-complacency, but in our certainty
of the eternal meaning of our life. We cannot
force ourselves to accept ourselves. We cannot
compel anyone to accept himself. But sometimes
it happens that we receive the power to
say “yes” to ourselves, that peace enters into
us and makes us whole, that self-hate and self -
contempt disappear, and that our self is reunited
with itself. Then we can say that grace
has come upon us.…
That evening, I knew that grace had come upon
me. I accepted this gift of my gayness as a gift of
God. I was no longer filled with self-hatred or fear
16 Open Hands
learn a new kind of accountability for
my own health and well-being. I also
have to learn how to relax, how to have
more fun, how to pace myself, how to
practice “risk management” in a personal
and faithful way.
A Sex Symbol—
Like It or Not
Public vs. Private
I have lived a life very much in the
public eye, “out there.” Despite my
protestations, work and activism have
come first, much of the time. I gave my
life away, as women do, too readily. I
loved my work, but I often did not value
my inner life or my relational life. It
rarely got the best hours of my day. I
came to my lover, family and friends,
to my prayer life, to God and spirituality
exhausted and spent.
When I left my pastorate, there was
endless speculation as to why— speculation
about my health, my 23-year relationship,
my future in MCC, ad nauseam.
No one wanted to accept the
simple explanation that I felt that it was
time to move on. That I was tired. That
it was time to shift and change. Instead,
people imagined that there had to be
some great mystery, tragedy, or plot
afoot. Being the object of public speculation,
when doing something as ordinary
and natural as leaving a job, is the
price of being even a minor public figure.
I love preaching and the public
activism that expresses my values. However,
sometimes it is very difficult to
claim my personal, private boundaries.
Being a GLBT activist also means
being a sex symbol, whether we signed
up for that or not. I have had to deal
with the consequences, occasionally, of
not taking that fact seriously. We GLBT
activists, openly GLBT clergy and
church leaders are the objects of endless
projection. We have fought for
sexual freedom while sometimes being
un-free, or unhealthy in our own sexual
lives. We have not always practiced
what we have preached.
For men, sexual addiction, greatly
aggravated by drug and alcohol addiction,
continues to be the number one
killer. For lesbians, we do not know how
to say yes or no about our sexuality and
needs, we unnecessarily blur boundaries,
we do not stand up for ourselves,
we internalize sexism, we fool ourselves
into thinking that serial monogamy is
a lifestyle choice. Too many of us still
do not know how to be happily single
or passionately married.
We have not been willing to embrace
or understand the changes in our sexuality
as we age. We are a youth-obsessed
movement that neglects the actual
I want to be “alive” for the rest of my life.
Summer 2001 17
youth among us; and we are still terrified
of aging.
Activists are notorious for being difficult
partners in relationship. Too
much of our passion goes into our work,
and not enough into our most important
relationships.
Whether we like it or not, if we are
GLBT activists, pastors, teachers, and
leaders, we are role models. We may be
bad role models or good ones, better or
worse, depending on the day, but we
are role models. Very human and imperfect
role models. But being a role
model is the inescapable price of being
a public figure. We are accountable in
that way.
We are not perfect role models, ever,
but I think we have to be conscious not
only of what we say, but how our lives
reflect the values that we say we believe
in. The authenticity of our leadership
continues to be tested, sometimes brutally,
when we are in the public eye.
Being a GLBT religious leader is not for
sissies. Prepare to have your feelings
hurt, your covers pulled, your patience
and ethics tested. Recovering from the
wounds this process inflicts also has to
be in our plan of self-care as we age.
Recently I spent an hour on line with
my niece, just because I could. We had
never talked on the phone that long,
and frankly, I don’t think I had ever
been available for a spontaneous hourlong
conversation in the middle of a
workday. What a great gift! She even
asked me to help her with some homework.
I tasted the joy of that moment
for a long while.
My partner of 23 years is still my best
friend. I remember the title of a very
early “gay lib” book called I Have More
Fun With You Than Anybody. I still hope
that after 23 years, with whatever time
remains for us, we can enjoy our fun
and shipwrecks together. I want her to
have more of the best hours of my day.
And I want to enjoy hers as well.
Sleepwalking and
Wakefulness
Rest vs. Productivity
I have rediscovered “Sabbath” in this
time of Jubilee, the Sabbath of Sabbaths.
Jubilee means freedom from debt
and despair and the burdens of a lifetime.
I have learned, through friends,
loved ones, mentors, and a good therapist,
what space and rest can mean, can
provide. Many activists, women and
men, do not have a “room of (our) own”
as Virginia Woolf called it, to pursue
our bliss, our best craft, our inner life.
We desperately need that space for renewal
and the recycling of our skills and
gifts and callings.
In the past I prided myself on not
needing much rest, on the boundless
energy God had given me. But, some of
that was a lie. I need plenty of rest in
order to really thrive, and to produce
what is really mine to produce.
I am that “barren woman” with so
many children that Isaiah 54 celebrates.
I have many “children”— not from my
body, but from my heart and soul—
whom I have loved and mentored and
pastored and befriended, and who have
often done the same for me. I probably
have another generation or two “within”
me, if I will respect my need for rest
and renewal.
As I left the pastorate at MCC/LA,
many people congratulated me on my
“retirement.” I am old enough, I guess,
that some assumed that that was what I
was doing. I really resented it in some
ways, as an indication of aging, or feeling
as though people were writing me
out of a future in ministry. And, I had
to confess, it was another rude, reality
check: You are aging!
I am not retired! But I am in transition;
I am praying that God will help
me re-invent myself in this new millennium.
That I can learn to live a life
blessed with rest and Sabbath, so that
my work will have power and energy
and creativity.
As I began to take my well-deserved
break several months ago, a colleague
of mine said she looked forward to experiencing
me “awake” again. I had
been sleepwalking a lot, I guess, on the
treadmill of my own and other expectations.
To be alive, fully conscious in
the present moment, says engaged-Buddhist
teacher Thich Naht Hanh, is to
come home to your true self.
I want to be “alive” for the rest of
my life— alive to beauty and mystery
and to all that is worth my time and
passion.
The week of my 50th birthday, some
friends lovingly teased me; a group of
MCC clergywomen surprised me with
a gorgeous bird book and lunch; at a
class I was attending with friends, 40
people prayed for me and blessed me; I
went bird watching; and a group of
friends wrote prophecies about where I
would be ten years from now. Since
then and not unrelated, a former lover
bought a horse; another friend was
given a piano; others have also quit jobs,
gone back to school, gotten clean and
sober; some went to the doctor for their
first annual actual check-up of their
lives.
How are we going to create an ethic
and a community that help us thrive
and grow as we age, as we “Jubilee?”
How are you preparing for your next
adventure?
Nancy Wilson is the
author of Our Tribe:
Queer Folks, God,
Jesus and the Bible,
newly revised and updated
and published
by Alamo Square Press
(New Mexico, 2000).
Formerly pastor of MCC Los Angeles, she
now pastors the Church of the Trinity
MCC, Sarasota, Florida. Her partner is
therapist and artist Paula Schoenwether.
Many activists, women and men,
do not have a “room of (our) own”
as Virginia Woolf called it, to pursue our bliss,
our best craft, our inner life.
But now thus say the Lord,
the one who created you, O Jacob,
the one who formed you, O Israel:
Do not fear, for I have redeemed you;
I have called you by name, you are mine.
When you pass through the waters, I will be with you;
and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you;
when you walk through fire you shall not be burned,
and the flame shall not consume you.
For I am the Lord your God,
the Holy One of Israel, your Savior.
“I Have Called You by Name.”
Joanne Carlson Brown, Ph.D., is
a long time member and former
board member of Aff irmation, a Reconciling
United Methodist, an adjunct
faculty member of Seattle University
School of Theology and Ministry and
pastor of United Church in University
Place, a joint United Methodist and
United Church of Christ congregation.
She lives with her beloved fur person,
Ceilidh.
The phone rang. The voice on the other end was crying. Between
sobs he choked out the terrible words, “Jamie is dead.
She killed herself.” I stood holding the phone for the longest
time, not really in disbelief, more in rage. How many more Jamies will it
take for people to see how destructive exclusionary, homophobic attitudes
and actions are? When people vote to bar lesbian and gay people
from ministry, when “they” bar two people from pledging their love to
each other before God and God’s people, when “they” debate scripture
references and psychology reports, do they realize the despair they engender?
Jamie absorbed the messages too well. She lost her identity as a child
of God. “They” stole that from her. But we as a people of God need to
reclaim the marvelous message of Isaiah, need to counter the despair
with a God who has created us and loves us, who has called us by name,
who says so clearly we are precious and honored and loved. What would
the church be, what would society be if that was preached, proclaimed
from pulpit and mountaintop?
I have Isaiah 43 taped on my bulletin board in my office and on the
headboard of my bed. It is the first thing I read when I wake up and the
last thing I read before I go to sleep. With every breath I take it fills my
soul: Created, called, loved, precious. To quote a Claudia and Tom Walker
song: “I am a child of God—no one can shake my confidence, I am a child of
God—no one can take my inheritance: never alone, I’ll stand, strengthened by
God’s own hand. I am a child, a child of God.”
As children of God, let us reclaim our identities, reclaim our lives, reclaim
our souls, and be strengthened by the outrageous, abundant love of
our God. Let there be no more Jamies.
Creating and loving God, help us to hear you calling us to our
true identity as your precious, honored sons and daughters.
Isaiah 43:1-3 (Read all of Isaiah 43.)
18 Open Hands
Under the pseudonym Isak
Dinesen, Karen Blixen wrote
this in her “Immigrant’s Notebook,”
a part of her book, Out of Africa.
It sums up what we celebrate this summer
in our Pride marches and festivities.
We celebrate our faith in God, and
in God’s divinely queer idea to make
us Queer, set apart from the rest, outcast
from religion, societal and ecclesiastical
scapegoats alongside other scapegoats
of the world.
There are those among us
who resist that role. They want
us to “mainstream” ourselves,
and there’s nothing wrong
with that— except that you
may take us out of the Queer
community but you can’t take
the Queer out of us. No matter how
easily we can “pass,” we forever have
the perspective of the outsider, the one
standing on the periphery, on the margins
of society, on the threshold of the
church, where prophets, poets, artists,
mystics, and visionaries are to be found.
To me, Pride is not just welcoming our
gift to love someone of the same gender
or of either gender, or the gift of
being transgender. Pride is also about
welcoming our gift to view the world
and the church in a way others do not.
The world is uncomfortable with our
pride.
A straight minister once took me
aside to tell me he had been honored
by being invited to preach at an interfaith
Gay & Lesbian Pride service in his
hometown. He said he had no problems
with the gay and lesbian part. But he
had always been taught that pride is a
sin!
I described to him the relatively recent
movement to address issues of selfesteem
and self-worth among those
who have been shamed emotionally,
spiritually, and sexually. I explained
that among those of us who are lesbian
or gay, bisexual or transgender, our
“sin” may not be pride, may not be
thinking of ourselves more highly than
we ought. Our “sin” may be a failure to
value who we are, beloved children of
God. And like most sin, or ways of
“missing the mark,” it is a collective sin,
a communal missing the mark. All of
culture has conspired to tell us we are
less than we are, to shame us, to deny
our cultural and spiritual integrity and
inheritance.
Thus it’s no mistake that, to counteract
this cultural and religious message,
Pride festivities evolved. Pride festivities
do not celebrate that we are more
than we are. Pride festivities celebrate
that we are no less than we are.
And we can take humble pride that
our Queer difference has made all the
difference that we offer the world and
the church. Our difference has given us
spiritual gifts that we offer the church.
These gifts are not unique to us, but they
are more necessary for us to ensure our
survival. Out of these gifts, I highlight
five.
Discernment
Awoman who had been attending
events I led in Fort Wayne, Indiana,
came to me toward the end of my
visit. She had had a dream she felt was
related to my time with her congregation.
She dreamed that she stood at the
base of her “high steepled” church and
saw other church members trying to
lasso the steeple with ropes and chains,
intent on bringing the steeple down.
She was afraid that, if they were successful,
the whole church would topple.
She ran to phone her pastor, who was
not available, out making pastoral calls.
She returned to the scene just as the
parishioners achieved their goal. The
steeple came crashing down, the whole
building grumbled and groaned, and
finally collapsed. Still in the dream, she
turned away from the terrifying scene
and found herself walking
arm in arm with her best
friend from college, another
woman. She realized then
that the church that had been
destroyed was not her present
church, but the church of her
youth, the church ignorant
and unwelcoming of homosexuality.
The destruction of that church in the
dream allowed her to acknowledge her
hunger for intimacy with another
woman, her girlfriend in college.
This is the gift of discernment, the
ability to let go of religious expressions
and environments that do not value us,
that treat us as less than God’s beloved,
how I define spiritual abuse. In an age
of practicing safer sex because of AIDS,
we also have learned to practice safer
spirit because of homophobia and
heterosexism, seeking out those religious
expressions and environments
that honor our Pride, our faith in the
idea that God had when God made us.
Imagination
One day, along my regular run
through the streets of Atlanta, I
noticed the sun’s light dim despite a
cloudless sky. I remembered that there
was to be a solar eclipse during the very
time I was running. And I noticed something
peculiar which I wrote off to my
imagination: the light filtering through
the leaves of the trees along the side-
“Pride is faith in the idea that God had when God made us.”
Pride festivities do not celebrate that we
are more than we are. Pride festivities
celebrate that we are no less than we are.
Summer 2001 19
20 Open Hands
walk seemed to me to take the shape of
hundreds of tiny crescents.
Months later in the Midwest, I was
welcomed into the home of two women
whose love for each other and new vision
of family had created one child
each with the cooperation of a gay male
couple, friends of theirs. A beautiful
little boy and girl played at our feet
while we visited. I noticed the workspace
of one of the women, a meteorologist,
and to my amazement I saw
newspaper clippings on a bulletin board
that had pictures of the very phenomenon
I had witnessed on my run, little
crescent-shaped splashes of light beneath
trees along a sidewalk. The meteorologist
was pictured and quoted in
the articles, so I asked her about them.
She explained to me that it was like
putting a pinprick at one end of a
shoebox, facing it to the sun, and viewing
the eclipse on the other end of the
shoebox.
So she essentially told me that what
I had dismissed as my imagination was
the reality. I looked at the family she
and her lover had imagined, and how
it too had become the reality.
The expectation is that gay people
are very creative, and creativity requires
imagination. In his book, The Care of
the Soul, Thomas Moore writes that the
most under-utilized spiritual gift is
imagination. We have imagined a God
that welcomes us, loves us as beloved
children. Our imagination is the reality.
We have imagined our love is sacred,
our relationships worthy of blessings.
Our imagination is the reality. We
have imagined a church that welcomes
us, recognizes our sacred worth. Our
vision has or will become the reality.
Remember the Proverb, “Without
vision the people perish.” Without our
imagination, we perish. Without our
imagination, the church is smaller and
smaller-minded.
Sexuality
Co-leading a workshop on “Religion
and Homosexuality,” we invited
participants to say something about
what brought them there. Everyone had
some sort of religious connection, save
one woman, who said she had no religious
background. We pressed her a
Fear is
Such a Hassle
Be not afraid.
Deuteronomy 31:8 and popular Catholic hymn by Bob Dufford
Fear is such a hassle. So if there is one thing I have
taken from my Catholic upbringing it is not to fear
much. And I don’t.
I accompanied my sister to China where she and her husband
adopted a baby. One day as our group was touring I
was pushing Elizabeth’s stroller across a busy street in a huge
Chinese city. It felt a little like crossing the Washington, DC
Beltway at rush hour—in a word, cause for panic.
I prayed that I would pilot the carriage across safely, worried
that this kid might be flattened on my watch and we
were not even on U.S. soil yet! I silently promised myself, and
anyone else who might have been listening, that I would never
fear anything with regard to this beloved god-child if only I
could get us to the other curb, just this once. It was a little
dramatic now that I think about it, but in the moment it was
absolutely necessary to help me thread through the bicycles,
cabs and vans that streamed by while I stood uncertain of
when to dash with my new niece in tow.
We arrived safely on the other side, little Elizabeth never
the wiser about what we had just come through. I emerged a
little more sanguine about our collective future, sure that I
had used up the only fear I ever plan to have in her regard.
Sometimes there is comfort in believing as we do.
Be not afraid, and help me not to be
either.
Mary E. Hunt is a feminist theologian,
co-founder and co-director of
WATER, the Women’s Alliance for
Theology, Ethics and Ritual, a GLBTsupportive
organization in Silver
Spring, Maryland.
Summer 2001 21
little about why she had come to the
seminar. She said, “In making love with
my lover, I got in touch with a spiritual
realm I never before experienced. Since
spirituality has to do with God, I came
here to find out about God.”
In my own experience, during a period
of feeling unloved and betrayed, a
friend made love to me. We slept together
in intimate embrace. The next
morning I awoke, feeling beloved,
loveable, and loving— even toward
those who had proven unloving toward
me. And I realized that God had touched
me in that lovemaking, that God’s tender
loving care for me had been incarnated,
embodied once more in the loving
pleasure of my friend’s touch.
When denied access to the traditional
means of God’s grace, we have
discovered sexuality as a means of God’s
grace, a way we receive and enjoy and
share the love God intends for all. We
remind the church of the holiness of
the body and of sexuality.
Sanctuary
Author of Christianity, Social Tolerance,
and Homosexuality, the late
historian John Boswell visited southern
California and did a series of lectures
on the special graces of lesbian and gay
people, the sacred gifts that we offer.
During an informal luncheon with ministers,
he was asked what some of those
spiritual gifts were. The first he named
was hospitality. He said, more so than
the general population, he had experienced
that we were there for others,
whether they needed an ear to listen, a
shoulder to cry on, a place to crash, a
cause to support.
Afterward I took John on my favorite
walk, along the palisades overlooking
the shoreline of Santa Monica,
down to the city’s pier, then back along
the wide stretch of sandy beach. Eventually
we passed through the gay beach.
From there we walked through a pedestrian
tunnel, the first leg of ascending
the cliffs where my car was parked. I
told him of an anti-gay graffiti writer
who had once spray-painted on the tunnel
walls the message, “Faggots go
home!” “Faggots go home!” many
times, objecting to the gay beach on the
shore side of the tunnel. In reply, some
enterprising lesbian or gay man had
gotten a can of paint, and, on a high
wall on the beach end of the tunnel,
had painted in ten-foot-high letters
H-O-M-E-! In other words, this gay
beach was our home.
In the midst of unwelcoming environments,
we have created home for
one another. Think of how your coming
out encouraged others to share their
own personal stories with you, of whatever
variety. In the culture and the
church we are creating sanctuary, a safe
space where all are welcome, regardless,
as the beloved children of God.
Sacrament
In the late 70’s, I served as the only
openly gay person on a national Presbyterian
task force on homosexuality
that, after studying the issue for two
years, recommended to our denomination
that homosexuality should neither
be considered a sin nor a bar to ordination.
That recommendation was rejected,
and my denomination has prohibited
ordination of gays and lesbians
since. Because Presbyterians are not
afraid to be inconsistent, I was nonetheless
hired for ten years as the founding
director of the Lazarus Project, a
ministry of reconciliation between the
church and the lesbian, gay, bisexual,
and transgender community in southern
California.
As we approached the ninth anniversary
of the project on a Sunday on
which we were to observe Holy Communion,
I learned that our pastor was
going to be away and we had to find an
ordained minister to come and lead us
in Communion. Finding none, we were
forced to postpone Communion by a
week. Now, the Lazarus Project was a
ministry that did not require my ordination,
but it was a pastoral ministry to
which I could have been ordained. The
irony that we could have celebrated
Communion on that anniversary Sunday
had I been ordained was not lost
on me, and I used it as “fodder” for my
homily.
In a sermon entitled, “What Is Our
Unique Sacrament?”, I pointed out that
it was not only the anniversary of the
beginning of the Lazarus Project, but it
was also the ninth anniversary of my
“non-ordination.” Thus we were forced
to “fast” from the sacrament of Communion.
In the absence of the traditional
sacrament, I speculated what was
the unique sacrament we offered the
church, a holy act in which the sacred
is manifest. After suggesting several
possibilities, I concluded that our vulnerability
was what we offer the church:
in essence, our “coming out,” our own
“communion.”
We affirm our spiritual-sexual integrity
in a church that has not satisfactorily
worked out the relationship of spirituality
and sexuality. We tell our stories
as new and surprising ways in which
God has been revealed. We offer ourselves
as living sacrifices, living offerings,
living reminders of the holiness
of the body, of bodily experience, of
sexuality and sensuality.
A friend came to visit me when I was
on a personal retreat. One of the brothers
of the order that ran the retreat
house joked with him, “George, what
did you bring us?” George threw open
his arms and announced, “I brought
myself.” Pleasantly astonished, the
brother explained that’s exactly what
Africans visiting their house in Africa
would say when they came. They would
not bring gifts, they would say they
brought themselves.
We bring ourselves: beloved, sacred,
holy, good, loving. We celebrate our
pride, our faith in the idea that God had
when God made us, when God loved
us into being.
Coda
Near the beginning of the 20th century,
Saint Elizabeth of the Trinity
wrote a message to her mother superior,
to be delivered after Elizabeth’s
death. She wrote:
“You are uncommonly loved,” loved
by that love of preference that the
Master had here below for some and
which brought them so far. He does
not say to you as to Peter: “Do you
love Me more than these?” Mother,
listen to what He tells you: “Let yourself
be loved more than these! That
is, without fearing that any obstacle
will be a hindrance to it, for I am
free to pour out My love on whom I
wish! ‘Let yourself be loved more
22 Open Hands
than these’ is your vocation. It is in
being faithful to it that you will make
Me happy, for you will magnify the
power of My love.” (Prayers of the
Women Mystics, ed. Ronda De Sola
Chervin, p 202.)
Growing up, I could not talk to my
parents, my minister, my teachers, or a
therapist about my “shame,” my homosexual
feelings. But I could talk to God.
And I believed God loved me. Many of
us have had a similar experience. When
we doubted others’ love, we reached out
all the more for God’s love. Perhaps that
is our vocation, like Elizabeth says of
her mother superior, to let ourselves be
loved, to realize more keenly and surely
and intimately God’s love than many
others who enjoy many sources of love.
Yet, it is in being faithful to that vocation
of letting ourselves be loved by
God that we will be able to “magnify
the power” of God’s love for others. Our
lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender Pride
is our faith, our “faith in the idea that
God had, when God made us.” Yet it is
a faith that is not simply “all about us.”
Karen Blixen added an important corollary,
“Love the pride of God beyond
all things, and the pride of your neighbor
as your own.” And she took it a step
further: “I will love the pride of my
adversaries,…and my lover; and my
house shall be, in all humility, in the
wilderness a civilized place.”
Though we be “a voice crying in the
wilderness,” we will yet make the
church “a house of prayer for all
peoples,” a civilized place in the wilderness.
And we will yet make the world
safe for sexual and gender diversity.
Chris Glaser is editor of Open Hands and
author of eight books, including the forthcoming
Reformation of the Heart: Seasonal
Meditations by a Gay Christian
(Westminster John Knox Press, Fall 2001).
A less parochial version of this was delivered
as the message for the
San Jose (California)
2001 Pride interfaith
worship service. You
may e-mail Chris at
ChrsGlaser@aol.com
or visit his website,
www.ChrisGlaser.com.
QTY BACK ISSUES AVAILABLE
___ Down on the Farm (Spring 2001)
___ What About Us Kids? (Winter 2001)
___ Our Healing Touch (Fall 2000)
__ The god of Violence (Summer 2000)
___ For All the Saints (Spring 2000)
___ Liberating Word: Interpreting the Bible (Winter 2000)
___ Wholly Holy (Fall 1999)
___ Creative Chaos (Summer 1999)
___ Welcoming the World (Spring 1999)
___ Why Be Specific in Our Welcome? (Winter 1999)
___ A House Divided: Irreconcilable Differences? (Fall1998)
___ Bisexuality: Both/And Rather Than Either/Or (Summer 1998)
___ Treasure in Earthen Vessels—Sexual Ethics (Spring 1998)
___ We’re Welcoming, Now What? (Winter 1998)
___ Creating Sanctuary: All Youth Welcome Here! (Summer 1997)
___ Same-Sex Unions (Spring 1997)
___ Remembering…10th Anniversary (Summer 1995)
___ The God to Whom We Pray (Spring 1995)
___ Reclaiming Pride (Summer 1994)
___ Aging and Integrity (Fall 1992)
___ Our Spirituality: How Sexual Expression and Oppression Shape It (Summer 1992)
___ Lesbian/Gay Reflections on Theology (Spring 1991)
___ Images of Family (Fall 1989)
___ The Closet Dilemma (Summer 1989)
___ Lesbian & Gay Men in the Religious Arts (Spring 1989)
___ Living and Loving with AIDS (Summer 1988)
___ Sexual Violence (Fall 1987)
___ Minorities within a Minority (Spring 1987)
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Published by the Reconciling Ministries
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Photo: Mary Anne Mitchell
Summer 2001 MINISTRIES 23
My conversion began in 1984 when our oldest son told us
he was gay. It was a shock and, because of the way in which
we had been indoctrinated, an undesirable bit of knowledge
that caused Mary Lynn and I much soul searching and weeping.
However, our love for our son never wavered. We learned
anew what “unconditional love” meant to us. For those of
you who perhaps don’t know, 1984 was also the year that the
General Conference of the United Methodist Church passed
the “Houston Declaration.” That document extended the exclusionary
language of the Discipline to prohibit ordination
of gay and lesbian seminary graduates as pastors. The minister
of the United Methodist Church we attended signed that
declaration. As you can imagine, Mary Lynn and I found it
impossible for us to seek our pastor for care when we were
trying to deal with this new knowledge.
As educators, we began to research this topic. Over the next
few years we read every pertinent scripture and every science
and social journal we could find. But, while gaining considerable
knowledge about the naturalness of same-sex affection
for some, we were still silent about our son. When our son
had come out of the closet, we had gone in. We didn’t tell
anyone for a long time. Only a few of our closest friends knew
even two years later.
Then my son, home for a weekend visit, asked me why I
wasn’t “out” with the information openly. That question
changed my life. With the knowledge Mary Lynn and I had
gained through research, study of the Bible, and other relevant
experiences, and with the blessing of all our children,
we began to advocate for justice and equality for gay and lesbian
persons.
My study of this topic has led me to the conclusion that
the only moral stance that makes any sense is that the church
and our greater society should encourage homosexuals to fulfill
their need for love and intimacy in the same way we nurture
heterosexuals. Encourage them to seek life-long companions;
bless their unions; sustain them in their trials; recognize
and embrace their talents in the church and in all facets of
society.
I believe that to continue to exclude gays and lesbians from
any corner of our churches is unloving and immoral. To ostracize
them or put them in a “don’t ask, don’t tell” environment,
to me, is sinful. The hostility that has been aimed at
these special people of God lacks a moral foundation. We must
move to repent for these transgressions.
I realize the difficulties that our church will face in changing
our stand, both culturally and spiritually, but our United
Methodist Church has traditionally been a leader in social
change. When a body has advocated a particular position for
a long time (28 years in the Discipline but longer in practice)
change is often sensed as a weakness. It will not be easy to see
it as an opportunity for justice. I believe that is why United
Methodist bishops have called for more study of homosexuality.
All facets of the topic must be examined.
I appeal to you as a father who has been deeply touched by
the suffering of my own family. I love my gay sons with all
my heart and am proud of them. The thought that our church
considers them unacceptable to God causes my heart to ache.
I can’t believe that those people who consider my sons as sick
or sinful realize how much hurt they are causing—for my sons
and for other gay and lesbian persons. This is why I am appealing
to you to take the time to study this issue in depth. I
believe that you need to hear the stories of our gay and lesbian
friends to discover that they are just ordinary human
beings like the rest of us. I hope you will take the time to
listen, to reflect and to pray. Our family will be enormously
grateful that you care that much. And many other families
will be as well.
Dale Merkle, an educator and the parent of a gay son, wrote this
to his home church. He is a lifelong educator and retired professor
of research and science education (Shippensburg University in Pennsylvania)
He has been a member of the United Methodist Church
for over 40 years. Currently he serves on the Bay City, Michigan
Public Schools Board as a trustee, which has a non-discrimination
clause that includes sexual orientation, and is president of
the Tri-Cities PFLAG Chapter.
(From left to right) Chris, Dale (Dad), Mary Lynn (Mom), Sarah, and
Gordon. Dale writes, “Gordon and Chris are our gay sons. Sarah is
our straight daughter.”
When our son came out of the closet,
we went in.
Dale G. Merkle
24 MINISTRIES Open Hands
Saved Twice
Brian Cave
At a very young age I knew there was something different
about me, but it did not have a name and it would be many
years before I could put a name to it. All through middle school
and high school, I was struggling with my sexuality. I knew I
was supposed to be attracted to women, but I was only attracted
to men. Since seventh grade my peers in school would
call me fag, queer, tinkerbell, and other things. I did not know
what these harsh words meant. All I knew was they meant
something bad and I did not want to be whatever it was. Even
though I had no attraction to women, I dated women in high
school because that is what guys are supposed to do.
Finally, in 1992, I graduated and at the age of 18, was able
to get into a dance club for straight, gay, lesbian, and questioning
people. My first night there scared the hell out of me.
I was so nervous! I would go to the club every Saturday night
during the summer before I left for college. I went off to a
Southern Baptist college in Anderson, South Carolina. I had
no idea what Southern Baptists were, having grown up in an
Episcopal family that only went to church when our family’s
busy schedule permitted.
During my freshman year, my roommate confronted me
after a conversation we had about sex: “I think it would be
good for you to move out, and to do it by this afternoon,
because you are gay.” I never once during the conversation
said that I was gay and never in my life had I said to myself I
am gay. I did not completely understand what gay meant. I
freaked out. All of a sudden someone had figured out that I
was or might be gay! I had no idea what to do, so I grabbed a
hunting knife and placed its tip to my heart, crying, confused.
But then I remembered how much my family and friends loved
me, so I decided to call my mother, crying hysterically. She
calmed me down, asking me what was wrong. I responded,
“Mom, I am gay.” Her first response was, “ I was afraid so.”
She asked me to find a counselor on campus. I made the decision
to drop out of college that day and move back home. I
left the campus without saying goodbye to anyone.
Back at home I had several visits with a psychiatrist trying
to figure things out. I was so scared of my homosexual feelings
that I even lied to the therapist about my feelings. That summer
I moved out of my parents’ house and started meeting
people from the gay community. I was so scared and did not
want to be seen in public with them. I started going to the club
again. I only told a few of my friends what was really going on.
After three months of partying into the wee hours of the
night and working as a prep chef in a restaurant, I knew that
this is not how I wanted to spend the rest of my life. I finally
met and talked with a gay guy my age outside of the club. He
pushed me a little faster than I was ready. I hated my first
sexual experience with another guy. So I told my parents that
I wasn’t gay and wanted to go back to school. I decided to be
a straight-acting Republican boy. I was going rid myself of my
homosexual feelings.
I started attending Clemson University and was invited by
my friends to the Presbyterian Student Association, which I
did not quite understand because I did not know the word
Presbyterian. I was skeptical because I did not trust religion.
One of my first memories from a Sunday night program at
PSA was hearing about a God who loves everyone, no matter
what. I had never heard this before. God loves everyone, no
matter what? I started to learn about having a relationship
with God through prayer. I never understood prayer. So this
was very powerful to me. I started learning about being the “I
am” that God created me to be. I still had a dark secret inside me,
and I decided that I would use my new relationship with God to
“heal” me. I learned about a Jesus that could heal people. So
every night before going to sleep I said a prayer asking God to
take these sinful, wrong feelings away. My life changed when
I began a relationship with God. However, I had to learn to do
God’s will and not my will or the will of society.
While my relationship with God was growing, so was my
involvement with the church. I joined a Presbyterian congregation
and held leadership positions in PSA. The church became
my life. God became my life. I was trying to ignore my
homosexual feelings and make them go away. I dated women
and did everything possible to make sure everyone, including
me, knew that I was straight. Little did I know that was not the
will of God.
I heard God challenging me to be a Volunteer in Mission
in Alaska. While in Alaska my responsibility was to travel to a
new village each week with my teammate organizing vacation
Bible school and leading senior high programs. At this
point in my life I was the poorest I had ever been—I had only
the clothes that I could carry in my backpack, and I was dependent
on people in the villages for food. My sole responsibility
was to serve God. This is the time of my life when I was
truly the happiest and the most content because the only thing
I had to worry about was making sure that people experienced
the love of God in a way that I had.
I had plenty of time to spend alone in the mountains of
Alaska praying like Jesus. I was reading the Gospels from cover
to cover. It amazed me how much healing Jesus did. So I started
questioning, “Well I have accepted Jesus as my savior and
nothing changes when I ask God to ‘heal’ me.” I decided that
I needed to sit still and listen for the voice of God while praying
in the mountains alone.
One day overlooking Rainbow Glacier (note the symbolism
of the rainbow), this voice came over me and said “Brian,
you are gay and it is okay and I still love you.” I was not with
gay people, I was not in a club, and I was with God by myself
when I accepted that I am gay. That night we had Communion
with the kids around the campfire, and when I received it,
I felt Christ with me in a way that I had never experienced
before. My life has changed since then, since the night that I
accepted the “I am” that God created me. A week later, another
voice came over me and said, “You will be a minister
one day.” I felt called to the ministry, but I had one problem,
I am gay, and in the Presbyterian Church you cannot be gay
and a minister.
Summer 2001 MINISTRIES 25
Since then I have come out to my parents (again), my family,
friends, and my church. I have received nothing but support
and love. I have been out four and a half years and my
life keeps getting better. I did not follow my call from God to
go to seminary. Instead I feel that I am called to be a voice, a
face, a person that has a story that needs to be told. The church
saved me. I feel that if I had not found God and the church, I
would either be dead from suicide or I would be messed up
on drugs and alcohol. In my life I have been saved twice, once
when I accepted Jesus Christ as my Savior and second, when I
accepted whom God created me to be, the gay Christian Brian.
Brian Cave, age 27, grew up in Charleston,
South Carolina and now lives in New York
City, working in non-profit as a development
associate and attending Jan Hus Presbyterian
Church, a More Light congregation. He
is the liaison for Youth and Young Adults
Concerns for More Light Presbyterians.
All Kinds of Families
Liz Alexander
While human sexuality is a gift from God, and age appropriate
materials should be a natural part of any educational
curriculum, discussions about “all kinds of families” and who
is welcome at the Lord’s Table are not about sex. They are
about Christ’s message of justice and love for all people.
Recently, before serving Communion to a group of fifth
and sixth grade church school children, I asked the class to
name those who did not feel welcome at “the table.” The scripture
reading for the lesson that day was from Mark 10:13-16.
We had talked about how Jesus had welcomed and blessed
the little children, and had discussed the meaning of the words
“for it is to such as these that the kingdom of God belongs” in a
society where children had no status, power, or advocacy groups.
When I asked the class who might not feel welcome in the
church today, children named the homeless and those in
prison. One child said that people of color did not always feel
welcome in certain churches. Then, an 11-year-old girl sitting
next to me said, “Sometimes gay people aren’t welcome in
churches.” No one giggled or smiled. In fact, heads nodded in
agreement. It was accepted as a simple fact, and we were able
to affirm together that we were glad gay men and lesbian
women were welcome at The Riverside Church, even as I am
as a minister.
It has not always been that way here. Just four years ago a
parent became irate after a teacher “came out” to his third
grade class. Because we have some children in our church
school who are being raised by grandfathers, fathers, aunts
and uncles, and grandmothers, we often focus on families,
rather than mothers, on Mother’s Day. On this particular
Mother’s Day the third grade teacher showed the class some
photos that included nontraditional families in a discussion
about all kinds of families and all kinds of parents on Mother’s
Day. The photos were not only of gay and lesbian families.
They also included pictures of heterosexual parents, grandparents
raising grandchildren, and single parents. Some of the
pictures were of bi-racial parents.
When one child yelled out, “That’s sick for a man to be
with another man,” pointing to a photo of two men from our
church with their two sons, others in the class began to laugh.
The teacher pointed out that one of the children was in our
church school, and asked the class how they thought this child
would feel if they heard them laughing. The girl whose mother
later complained said, “It won’t hurt his feelings because he
isn’t here to hear us.”
The teacher talked to the class about how we are all members
of a church family and how families don’t all look the
same, but that they love one another, and explained that laughing
at gay men and lesbians hurts us all, just like laughing at a
person because he or she is different from us in color, ethnic
origin, religion, physical ability, or age. He agreed with them
that it especially hurts the person you are laughing at, and
then told them that it especially hurt him because he is gay.
Most of the class was embarrassed and apologized. It was a
powerful lesson.
Since then, we have been more intentional about including
discussions about what it means to be Open and Affirming
and naming gay men and lesbians when we speak of who
are welcomed and included in God’s family, and speak of gay
rights when we talk about equal rights and justice.
Elizabeth (Liz) Alexander is the director of Children and Family
Ministries at The Riverside Church in New York City. She is an
openly lesbian minister with the Presbyterian Church (USA) and
an at-large member of Presbyterian Welcome, a New York Citybased
organization that supports those “who in good conscience
must resist all efforts to deny God’s calling or grace” and actively
works to change Presbyterian policies that discriminate against
LGBT persons. She and Martha Gallahue, a psychotherapist, are
in a committed partnership that was blessed at Riverside. Liz has
two children ages 30 and 28. Contact her at ealexander@
theriversidechurchny.org.
Recommended Reading:
Abramchik, Lois, Is Your Family
Like Mine? (New York: Open
Heart, Open Mind Pub.,1993).
Bosche, Susan, Jenny Lives With
Eric And Martin (London: The
Gay Men’s Press Ltd., 1983).
Gillespie, Peggy and Gigi Kaeser,
Love Makes A Family (Amherst,
MA: University of Massachusetts
Press, 1999).
Kutch, Robert, Who’s In A Family,
(Berkeley, CA: Tricycle
Press, 1995.)
Say, Elizabeth A. and Kowalewski,
Mark R., Gays, Lesbians
and Family Values (Cleveland,
OH: The Pilgrim Press, 1998).
Tax, Meredith, Families (New
York: The Feminist Press at The
City University of NY, 1981).
Willhoite, Michael, Daddy’s
Roommate (Los Angeles: Alyson
Wonderland Publishers, 1990).
Willhoite, Michael, Daddy’s
Wedding (Los Angeles: Alyson
Wonderland Publishers, 1990).
See also:
Open Hands, Winter 2001 (Vol.
16, No. 3), Issue Theme: “What
About Us Kids?”
26 MINISTRIES Open Hands
Scotland 2000
Donn Crail
High Street in Edinburgh, called the Royal Mile, runs down
from the rocky promontory on which is situated Edinburgh
Castle, to Holyrood House at its other end, the queen’s official
residence in Scotland. On the royal mile are some significant
historical sites for the Church of Scotland (and all Presbyterians).
There is of course St. Giles, the high kirk of Scotland,
with an imposing statue of John Knox in front of it. Less imposing
is his grave, which, being in the parking lot, usually
has a car parked over it. Nearby is John Knox house, where we
were told he may or may not have actually lived. It is a detail
with which Scots do not overly concern themselves. The tourists
keep coming.
We met in these historic surroundings, in St. Alban’s Anglican
Church, just across a narrow street from Edinburgh
castle. My room was three flights up in a B&B a mile or more
down the hill from St. Alban’s. Needless to say, for almost a
week, I walked my buns off. Nonetheless, it was worth it.
Of the 160 there I was the only person from the United
States attending Scotland 2000, an international and ecumenical
conference held a year ago this past May sponsored by the
Lesbian and Gay Christian Movement. Absorbed as I am with
issues of sexual orientation in the U.S. and the Presbyterian
Church, I had given little thought, and had only the most
general knowledge of these issues outside this country.
Being ecumenical, the Lesbian and Gay Christian Movement,
centered in London, has for over 20 years united gay
and lesbian Christians and their allies in the U.K., linked itself
with similar ministries in Europe, and through that has probably
moved this issue forward in ways that we have yet to see
in the U.S. Perhaps the WOW Conference that followed last
summer will give us similar momentum. A sort of testimony
to the significance of the Gay and Lesbian Christian Movement
may be that a few years ago at the Lambeth Conference,
the Worldwide Assembly of Anglican bishops, the archbishop
of Nigeria tried to exorcize the “homosexual demon” from
Richard Kirker, the Anglican priest who is its founder. Apparently
it didn’t work, as he is still openly and unrepentantly gay.
One thing I had realized on previous trips overseas, and it
has not changed, is that the pond is a narrower one from the
U.K. to America than it is from America to the U.K. They seem
always to be more aware of us than we are of them, and that is
definitely true in relation to lesbian and gay Christians. I also
perceived that many of them see the U. S. as a very—and
strangely— religious country, growing primarily from the visibility,
even from afar, of the religious right in this country.
One of the speakers (and for me the most interesting one)
was a young Roman Catholic lay theologian by the name of
James Alison. His address, “Clothed and in His Right Mind”
was an exegetical analysis of the story of the Gerasene demoniac
(Luke 8:26–39). Though not implying the demoniac was
gay, his exclusion from his Gentile village, their using of him
to define who they are not, and his self-destructive behavior,
are dynamics that resonate strongly with LGBT persons and
the church. Jesus liberating him from the “legion” of demons
that have possessed him so that he is found “sitting, clothed
and in his right mind,” is a powerful image of persons through
Christ set free from their self-hated and destructive behavior.
Remarkably the villagers’ response to this is not thanksgiving
but hysteria. Sound familiar? Alison’s presentation reinforced
my conviction that for all that is said and written about the
homosexual and scripture, the most relevant passages are often
completely missed. I had missed this one.
Politically the focus in the U.K. on gay/lesbian issues is centered
on efforts to repeal Section 28, a piece of legislation
passed by Parliament in 1992 during the Thatcher administration.
It is about the teaching of human sexuality in schools.
The most offensive part of this in the lesbian/gay community,
and indeed among almost all progressives and teachers, is that
local authorities “must not promote the teaching of the acceptability
of homosexuality as a pretended family relationship.”
The words “pretended family relationship” have outraged
almost all progressives in England, and even more so in
Scotland (section 28 does not apply in Ireland). The House of
Lords has twice stopped the repeal of Section 28, and will
probably do so again this year. As I understand it they can
only do that three times and then The House of Commons
may override and vote for the repeal and is expected to do so.
An English businessman, Brian Souter, has put half a million
pounds (approx. $800,000.) into efforts to keep Section
28 on the books. Some clerics have organized efforts to retain
the article, especially the Roman Catholic cardinal in Glasgow.
Much of the rhetoric in support of keeping Article 28 is focused
on “protecting the family and institution of marriage,”
very similar to what was done in California with Proposition 22.
There was much discussion of section 28 at the conference,
and an existing law that makes the age of consent for
heterosexuals to be 16, but for homosexuals it is 18; evidence
of just how much irrationality can come of homophobia.
Not all Lords are men. The Lord Provost of Edinburgh
(think— mayor) is a woman. One evening there was a welSummer
2001 MINISTRIES 27
coming reception for us in an elegant Hall of the Edinburgh
City Chambers to meet the Lord Provost. I had the opportunity
of visiting with her during the evening. She was a charming
woman and totally on the side of full equal rights for gay
and lesbian persons, and for the repeal of Section 28. She and
other Scots take some justifiable pride in not having done
business with Pat Robertson.
We also heard from Bishop Richard Holloway, in Scotland
the counterpart of the Archbishop of Canterbury. This Anglican
Bishop is something of a hero among those in the lesbian/
gay Christian movement as he is total in his support of
them, and fearless in addressing his colleagues on this issue.
We also heard from the current Moderator of The Church of
Scotland, Rt. Rev. John Cairns. The moderator’s message, while
supportive, was more “moderate” (no pun intended) than the
Bishop’s, perhaps because a Moderator has less authority than
a bishop.
Sunday morning for the closing worship of our conference
I trudged up the hill from my B&B one last time for the closing
worship service at St. Alan’s. When I got there only standing
room remained, and not much of that. Bishop Holloway
gave the sermon. On the issue of scripture he excoriated the
hypocrisy of those who have used it against gay and lesbian
Christians. There had been some sort of ballot sent out
toward a public referendum in support of retaining Section
28. Before his sermon Bishop Holloway publicly tore up his
ballot.
The service was led by a male Roman Catholic priest (what
other kind is there) and a woman Anglican priest. We went
forward to receive by intinction. I was moved to see that there
was no distinction made between receiving from the Roman
Catholic priest and the Anglican one. Rome might not have
approved, but our oneness in Christ was so real that morning
that denominational distinctions at the table would have been
conspicuously false.
One impression I came away with is that the church has
moved more to the periphery of many persons’ lives than was
true even 17 years ago. Apart from the conference itself my
conversations with many persons I talked to in pubs or at
breakfast in the B&Bs where I stayed in Edinburgh and later in
London gave me a chilling sense of what “post-Christian era”
means.
I return with fresh and passionate conviction that gay and
lesbian Christians are a great gift God is giving the church
because when the church finally embraces them, it will receive
back the Spirit—the breath—the life—that has gone out
of it. The church has been suffocating on its fears.
Shortly after my return home, I saw a sticker on the back
window of a car in Hollywood that said, “JESUS HATES ME.”
The point, I assume, was cynical, counter to those bumper
stickers that say, “JESUS LOVES ME.” Still, I was startled by it.
Perhaps this really is the message that much of the church is
sending to many persons; and the reason for those T-shirts
one sees for sale in some West Hollywood shop windows,
“THANK GOD I’M AN ATHEIST.”
I return knowing more deeply than I ever have that individuals
do not need the church’s permission to find God in
their lives. To a great degree the church has already missed its
opportunity to love gay and lesbian persons and has left it to
them to love themselves and each other, and to discover without
the church—sometimes despite the church—that God loves
them.
Donn Crail is a lifelong Presbyterian pastor
presently serving as executive director of the
Lazarus Project, a ministry of reconciliation
between the church and LGBT community
hosted by the West Hollywood Presbyterian
Church in southern California. He is married
to Helen, who shares his commitment to LGBT
justice.
A Welcoming Strategy
for Your
Denomination
Bob Gibeling
In the past, Protestant denominations in the United States
have tried to write and get national church approval of sexuality
statements. They all seemed to fail badly, following very
similar patterns. First a “blue ribbon” panel of people from
across the country was appointed, asked to study and come to
some consensus to draft a statement. The committee works
for a year or more, learning and evolving to the point that
they write a very progressive document. Then it’s taken to a
national church convention and soundly defeated. Notice how
this is really a “top down” strategy, hoping for systemic change
to come from a single source at the national level of a denomination?
Sound familiar?
The Evangelical Lutheran Church in America had followed
something like this pattern. The main difference was that its
statement never even got to the point of being voted on. A
very fine draft of the Social Statement on Human Sexuality
was released in October of 1993. It hit the press before anybody
in our congregations had a chance to receive it, much
less read it and react. The Associated Press sensationalized the
document, giving it national coverage in an article which literally
began with the word “masturbation.” Needless to say,
the statement was Dead on Arrival, but it still poisoned the
atmosphere and brought out the worst in reactionary forces.
The firestorm of protest—from people who had not read the
document of course—was like a blast furnace. The reactions
continued for a year or so as the ELCA struggled with what to
do next.
Several rewrites were ordered and the group of people who
drafted the first document were dismissed by the ELCA. Among
this fine group of volunteers were Anita Hill and John Ballew,
both members of Lutherans Concerned. As a result of the of28
MINISTRIES Open Hands
ten vitriolic reactions, no document was ever presented to the
next ELCA Churchwide Assembly for consideration. This was
bitterly disappointing to those who had hoped for some leadership
and guidance from the national church. However, it
pleased our opponents greatly. As a result of this failure, a
Conservative Lutheran group even declared in its newsletter
that Lutherans Concerned was in its death throws in 1995.
Not only were we sound as an organization, but about to recognize
what it takes to move the church forward.
It was that summer that I attended the Convention of the
Evangelical Lutheran Church in Canada (ELCiC), meeting in
Winnipeg. It crystallized for me what to do next. The Evangelical
Lutheran Church in Canada had taken a very different
approach. Instead of trying to draft and adopt a statement on
human sexuality, they set out to develop study modules. These
consisted of video and study guides for congregational discussion
of sexuality and faith issues. When I observed their
convention that July, the debate was about the future of these
educational modules. A very conservative man went to the
microphone and railed against providing any more funding
for this educational effort. He was horrified that these discussions
were going on across the church. It became clear that he
would much rather have a statement to vote on than to have
discussions happening all over.
He could rally the opposition at one time and place to defeat
a national church sexuality statement once and for all.
But the prospect of having discussions happening wherever
people wanted them to happen—just left up to the Holy Spirit
to lead people—was an alarming idea for him! That meant he
couldn’t control the agenda, he couldn’t rally forces against a
discussion, he couldn’t even be sure where or when these discussions
were happening. His motion to cut the funding was
defeated, largely because of powerful statements from youth
delegates to the convention. They asked, “If we can’t talk about
this in the church, where can we talk about it?”
“Aha!” I thought. If this man is so upset by having a broadbased
discussion, then that is precisely what we need to be
doing more. That doesn’t mean statements are never introduced
to a national church body; it just means the grass roots
educational work has to be done first. Support needs to be
lined up before it comes to a national church assembly. And it
means an assembly cannot expect or wait for everybody to be
at the same level of support at the same time before moving
forward where and when possible.
So what’s the best way to build that grass roots support?
Clearly it’s the welcoming church movement. Educating and
building support at the local levels first is essential in our ministry
of reconciliation.
In Lutherans Concerned, we have increasingly focused on
securing more ELCA Synods to be part of the Reconciling in
Christ Program. We structure RIC Synod statements so the
synod is encouraging discussion and adoption of welcoming
policies at local congregations. We now have 17 of the 65
ELCA Synods in our RIC Program. That’s over 25%. Two have
adopted statements approving the blessing of relationships
by pastors in those synods. This is clearly having an impact
on the ELCA because of the grass roots nature of the movement.
So the strategy that emerged from that ELCiC national convention
in Winnipeg is this:
1. Provide educational resources and promote continuing discussions
about sexuality and faith issues at all levels of the
church.
2. Propose statements when the tide of support is turning toward
becoming welcoming. Keep the intent of the statement
clear and simple.
3. Focus on getting regional units of the church to promote
discussions and move forward when possible.
One final note about the convention in Winnipeg. The
ELCiC adopted a statement at that same convention apologizing
to the Jewish community in Canada for the anti-Semitic
statements of Martin Luther. When it passed, one of the youth
delegates came over to me and said, “One day the church will
apologize to gay and lesbian people for how
they have been treated.” Remember that
prophesy from Canada. It will come to pass
someday.
Bob Gibeling is the program director of
Lutherans Concerned/North America and
serves on the editorial board of Open Hands.
He lives in Atlanta.
A Call to the Church:
Open the Door!
Harry Knox
Excerpted from an address to the Western Ohio
Conference of the United Methodist Church.
When I was a student at Lancaster Theological Seminary in
Pennsylvania in 1988, I was privileged to hear a lecture about
apartheid in South Africa from an exiled Reformed pastor
named Colin Juste. Colin was colored, of Indian descent, in a
country whose caste system made him and his family something
less than white, but not quite so bad as black. He had
been exiled for leading his congregation of colored South Africans
in a peaceful non-violent demonstration against the
apartheid system. He had used his time in exile to gain a Ph.D.
in theology from Yale Divinity School. Having finished his
degree, he was touring this country speaking about apartheid
before his planned return to South Africa a few days after he
would leave our school.
At the end of his presentation, I raised my hand. I had been
moved greatly by Colin’s speech and I asked him, “Colin, do
I understand correctly that if you go back to South Africa the
government will put you in prison?”
He said “Oh, yes. The minute I get off the plane, I suspect.”
Summer 2001 MINISTRIES 29
I asked him why he would do such a thing. I asked him
why he would put himself through that kind of abuse. I was
so angry at the prospect I was blinking back tears of rage.
In response, he smiled. He said, “My dear brother, I appreciate
your anger on my behalf. But I am a minister of the
Gospel of Christ. It is my task to seek and to save the lost. So
you see, my responsibility is not to protect myself. I have a
responsibility to the oppressor to call him from the sin of
apartheid.”
I was never the same.
Saint Simons Island on the coast of Georgia is the site of
Epworth-by-the-Sea, a United Methodist conference and retreat
center some of you may have visited. It is where John
Wesley preached and pastored, rather badly, in America. Not
long ago a bicycle rental shop on the island that was owned
by two gay men was vandalized and hate messages were spraypainted
on the walls. The two men moved off the island and
out of the state after they talked with the police about the
incident. You see, the police told them, “That’s how we treat
people like you here.” And there was no evidence to the contrary
since no one among their neighbors offered even a word
of concern. Not one minister went to see them, or the police,
about the incident. Not one church layperson did or said a
thing to help.
There is a man in the little town of Wrens, Georgia, outside
of Augusta, who calls me on the phone late at night because
his phone is downstairs in his two story home. That’s significant
because, since he was fired from his job because he is
gay, the death threats have started. He lives in an old house
with floor-to-ceiling windows downstairs and he doesn’t dare
use the phone in his own home while the sun is out for fear of
being visible to a gunman who might drive up in front of the
house. There is a United Methodist Church in that town, but
the church is silent.
Two lesbians in Calhoun, in the mountains of North Georgia,
were burned out of their home by a next-door neighbor
who had waited in the driveway of his home everyday for
weeks just so he could call them ugly names when they came
home from work each day. When I called the county sheriff
about the arson several days after the fact, he told me mine
was the first call he had received about it since it was reported
to him by the fire department. The two women whose home
and belongings were gone never heard from any church in
Gordon County.
The Greek word akkadia is badly translated as sloth in English
Bibles. My old professor in seminary told us that sloth is
lying too long in the bath water. Akkadia, one of the seven
deadly sins, doesn’t mean laziness. It means, “I don’t care.”
One of the seven deadly sins is apathy. It is deadly to the one
who practices it and it is deadly to those affected by the sinner’s
inaction.
My sisters or brothers in Christ Jesus, your soul is in mortal
danger, as is the soul of the church. Your apathy is separating
you from the Giver of Life and from those for whom Christ
died. You are hauling the church down the road to destruction.
Men and women called gay and lesbian stand in need of
the grace which Christ alone supplies. We are at the door of
your church, or down the street, or just around the corner,
and you are too afraid to bring us into God’s House. God help
me, it is my responsibility to call you from your sin.
In your heart, you know being gay is not a choice. You
may not know why I am gay, and I don’t know either, but you
know it is not a choice. And if it is not, then you are consciously
choosing to hurt me by excluding me from full participation
in the life of the church.
You have decided that gay people are expendable. That the
needs of the many are more important than the needs of the
few. You stand on the side of the majority because you are not
willing to pay the price for standing for justice for the oppressed.
God help me, it is my responsibility to call you from
your sin.
When Paul dreamed of a Macedonian who looked at him
and said, “Come over and help us,” Paul had a choice. It wasn’t
a good one. He had heard a call to leave the comfortable for
the uncomfortable, the known for the unknown, the clean
for the unclean, the Chosen for the damned. Thank God he
answered the call and the world was changed.
God is calling you to act on what you know, to move based
on what you strongly suspect, to take action on faith. God is
calling you to do no less than change the world.
God does not promise you, and I do not promise you, that
there will not be a terrible price to pay. It may cost you your
ministry. It cost me mine. It may cost you the respect and love
of your family. My uncle cut me out of his life for telling the
truth about homosexuality. It may cost you friends. My best
friend didn’t have gumption enough to do the task himself,
so he had his wife write me a note to tell me our friendship
was over. His father had been my district superintendent. It
will cost you money, reputation, peace at home, and maybe
even your life. Arsonists and vandals and neo-Nazis and
skinheads are no respecters of persons after all.
But akkadia, “I don’t care” will cost you your soul.
Lesbians and gay men are wandering in the barbaric wilderness,
but we are shouting to you to come over and help us.
We are knocking on the door of your church and listening
anxiously for the sound of your hand on the doorknob. But
all we hear are the muffled sounds of your frustrated, fearful,
faithless tears.
For God’s sake. For my sake. For your own soul’s sake. Please.
Get up and open the door.
Harry Knox, a former United Methodist minister, is the executive
director of the Georgia Equality Project, seeking to promote and
defend the rights of LGBT persons.
30 Open Hands
Movement News
Presbyterians Vote Against Gay Ban
Meeting in Louisville in June, the Presbyterian General Assembly
voted by a 60%-39% margin to delete the denomination’s
antigay ordination provision from its Book of Order
and rescind all previous negative “definitive guidance.” The
deletion needs to be ratified by a simple majority of the
presbyteries. Twenty-nine of the PC(USA)’s 173 presbyteries
had overtured the assembly for a change in the denomination’s
25-year-old policy. A PowerPoint Presentation emphasizing
“forbearance” of diverse attitudes on non-essentials in the
church seemed persuasive to the committee dealing with the
overtures. It may be viewed on the website of The Covenant
Network (www.covenantnetwork.org). The Progressive Partners,
which include More Light Presbyterians, Covenant Network,
That All May Freely Serve, Shower of Stoles, Witherspoon
Society, and other groups, advocated the change and were optimistic
about its fate in the presbyteries.
Institute of Religion and Democracy
Attacks Open Hands Article and Writer
An article written for the Institute of Religion and Democracy
has questioned the fitness of the director of admissions of a
United Methodist seminary for opinions expressed in an Open
Hands article. United Methodist minister Chip Aldridge, Jr., of
Wesley Theological Seminary in Washington, D.C., contributed
“E-Mails to a Young Q: Assurance and Information for a
Questioning or Queer Youth,” to the Winter 2001 issue (Vol.
16, No. 3). IRD research assistant Erik Nelson criticized Aldridge
for “urg[ing] youth in the church to ‘claim and name’ their
sexual preference.” He cited only one student to the effect that
Aldridge, in Nelson’s words, “is aggressive in recruiting homosexual
students for Wesley Seminary” thus “ignor[ing] the official
teaching of The United Methodist Church, which calls homosexual
practice ‘incompatible with Christian teaching.’” Writer
Nelson sent a copy of the article to Wesley’s president, Douglass
Lewis. Aldridge, the current chair of the Reconciling Ministries
Network Board, says the school has been personally supportive.
According to an article by Leon Howell in the Fall 1998 (Vol. 14,
No. 2) issue of Open Hands, the IRD emerged in the mid-90s among
Washington insiders to push “wedge issues” as part of the conservative
“culture wars” for the soul of America, largely funded
by conservative foundations ($448,000 in 1994).
Upcoming Events
August 2-5. Affirming Congregation Programme Annual
Conference, featuring Virginia Ramey Mollenkott, Wesley
United Church, 6 Cambridge St., Cambridge, Ontario. Contact
Ron Coughlin at acpucc@aol.com or 416/466-1489.
October 6. YES! Conference 2001, Philadelphia, an interfaith,
multi-racial, LGBT and friends gathering inspired by WOW
2000. Contact www.empoweringdiversity.com/Yes.
LGBTQ Muslims Gather in San Francisco
Al-Fatiha, an international organization dedicated to LGBT and
Questioning Muslims and their friends, held its second North
American conference in San Francisco June 21-24, 2001. Over
100 people gathered from five countries, representing more
than two dozen ethnicities and cultures. Sessions focused on
issues ranging from Coming Out to Islam to HIV/AIDS in Islamic
communities. The Friday evening reception featured
activists Kerry Lobel, Rev. Elder Troy Perry, Alvan Quamina,
Surina Khan, and Christian de la Huerta. Participants were then
led by Rev. Mel White and Faisal Alam in a candlelight vigil
and procession through the Castro district of San Francisco.
Chanting “the ocean refuses no river, no river,” marchers honored
Muslims oppressed or killed because of their sexual orientation
or gender identity, or died because of AIDS. On Sunday,
a group of 40 LGBTQ Muslims and their supporters
marched in the 31st Annual San Francisco Pride Parade. “We
have finally taken our place at the table,” said Faisal Alam,
founder and director of the group. The contingent received
great applause as members chanted “We’re Here! We’re Queer!
We’re Muslims! Allah Hu Akbar (God is Great).” Al-Fatiha takes
its name from the title of the first chapter of the Holy Quran
and means “The Beginning” or “The Opening.” Founded in
October of 1998, it includes nine chapters in three countries:
Atlanta, New York, London, Los Angeles, San Diego, San Francisco,
Toronto, Vancouver, and Washington D.C. For information,
contact Al-Fatiha Foundation, PO Box 33532, Washington,
DC 20033, (888) 303-8430, e-mail: gaymuslims@
yahoo.com, web: http://www.al-fatiha.net.
Brief News
Rev. Jacki Belile has resigned as Open Hands marketing manager
and become the pastor of Grace Baptist Church, an American
Baptist Welcoming & Affirming congregation in Chicago.
Jenn Williams of Austin, Texas, will be obtaining ads for Open
Hands as part of her new job at the Reconciling Ministries
Network office in Chicago. Open Hands short story “Our Organist”
by Michael Lindvall (Fall 2000, Vol. 16, No. 2) won
Honorable Mention for Fiction in the 2001 Associated
Church Press Awards. During this summer’s UCC General
LGBT supporters react with delight to the vote of the Presbyterian G.A.
Photo: Jack Hartwein-Sanchez
Summer 2001 31
Welcoming Communities
OPEN
AND
AFFIRMING
New Covenant Community
Normal, Illinois
More than 100 members and friends make up this congregation
whose focus is meaningful ministry with the community-
at-large and the campus of Illinois State University in
Normal. The church’s Open and Affirming/More Light commitment
flows from its interpretation of Jesus’ “open table”
ministry, in which he deliberately included the outcast members
of society and brought together people of diverse, often
conflicting circumstances. Inspired by this understanding and
their affiliation with the Center for Progressive Christianity,
members of the church are developing curriculum for their
growing church school which will emphasize scriptural study,
interfaith appreciation, and LGBT acceptance. The church also
offers several book groups and has hosted progressive speakers
such as Marcus Borg and Matthew Fox.
Collenbrook United Church of Drexel Hill
Drexel Hill, Pennsylvania
Collenbrook United Church is a union church that is both
PCUSA and United Church of Christ. Their clerk of Session is
Nancy E. Krody, an early pioneer in the LGBT movement in
the UCC. The church began in 1975 as a union of Northminster
Presbyterian Church and St. Paul’s United Church of Christ.
Collenbrook has been participating in a congregational study
and discernment process since the fall of 1999 facilitated by
the pastor and a More Light/Open and Affirming Task Force.
The congregational affirmation to become a More Light and
Open and Affirming Congregation was made during a congregational
meeting on January 28, 2001.
WELCOMING & AFFIRMING
Old First Church
Middletown, New Jersey
Old First Church, a 312-year-old church, originally
Baptist, became dually aligned with American Baptist Churches
of the USA and the United Church of Christ in 1963. On October
1, 2000, the 75-member congregation voted to amend their
church constitution to reflect the approval of the “Welcoming
and Affirming/Open and Affirming” statements of the two
denominations. The Rev. Dr. E. Kenneth Nichols saw the vote
as one more link in a three-century-long chain of support for
social justice causes. There was the church’s early involvement
in the anti-slavery and temperance movements, with black
members included as early as 1800. Through the years they
have also had a public presence working for civil rights, peace
and the environment. The moderator for the voting meeting
explained, “The statement will confirm our congregation’s already
manifest commitment to and love for all people, including
those who are homosexual.”
MORE
LIGHT
PRESBYTERIANS
Synod/Disciples of Christ Assembly in Kansas City, Missouri,
the UCC Coalition for LGBT Concerns will co-host a luncheon
with GLAD Alliance (Disciples). The Coalition’s Open
and Affirming Program will celebrate more than 80 congregations
that have joined since the last General Synod in 1999,
the largest group ever! Katie Morrison, M.Div. of Oakland,
California has been named to join Michael Adee as a national
field coordinator for More Light Presbyterians. The Reconciling
Ministries Network in the Pacific Northwest has condemned
as heresy the United Methodist anti-homosexual
stance, claiming it to be “unfaithful to the teachings of Jesus.”
At its semi-annual meeting this past February, the National
Religious Leadership Roundtable co-convened by the National
Gay and Lesbian Task Force and Equal Partners in
Faith announced plans to seek a meeting with John DiIulio,
head of the White House Office of Faith-Based and Community
Initiatives to discuss concerns related to that program.
Last fall’s conference entitled “The Black Church and
Human Sexuality” held at Vanderbilt Divinity School in
Nashville concluded that the Bible is not the best resource on
sex. Scholars Randall Bailey of Atlanta’s Interdenominational
Center, Rev. Herbert Marbury and Victor Anderson of
Vanderbilt, and Rev. Alberta Ware of The Balm in Gilead in
Chicago, asserted that sexual rules were founded on the concept
of women as men’s property and male sexual domination
of women and certain men. Alyson Publications has just released
The Greatest Taboo, edited by Delroy Constantine-
Simms, a collection of 28 essays dealing with homosexuality
and black culture (visit www.alyson.com).
RECONCILING
Arvada United Methodist Church
Arvada, Colorado
Located in a southern suburb of Denver, this
congregation has been engaged in a period of study and discernment
on reconciling ministry since 1991 when the youth
group at Arvada proposed a charge conference to begin the
Reconciling congregations study process. The church has long
been a center for thoughtful theological inquiry. In a delightful
twist on Charles Wesley’s teaching of the need to “unite
the two so long disjoined, knowledge and vital piety,” the congregation
describes itself as “a church where science, religion
and life are compatible.”
St. Paul’s United Methodist Church
Redondo Beach, California
St. Paul’s became a Reconciling congregation after a study
process begun in 1994. The community-based congregation
has been involved with justice work and outreach for many
years, and was a pioneer in the California Pacific Annual Conference
by founding AIDS Heartline, one of the first UM ministries
to people with HIV/AIDS. Their statement of reconciliation
reads in part, “as a reconciling congregation our mission
is to provide a welcoming place where people of all backgrounds
may worship, grow and serve.”
Trinity United Methodist Church
Pearl City, Hawai‘i
Overlooking the historic Pearl Harbor memorial, this is the
first Hawaiian United Methodist Church to declare itself a Reconciling
church. The diverse congregation with an active
Tongan ministry calls itself a “little church with a big heart.”
Pastor Dick Matsushita describes the church’s mission as being
“Christ’s body within and beyond this community reaching
out to and receiving people as they are.” Matsushita described
the community as helping people be “deepened in the
Spirit, challenged with the ultimate claim of the Gospel, and sent
forth to be a caring church, creating a just and loving society.”
MORE LIGHT PRESBYTERIANS
Bethany Presbyterian Church
Spokane, Washington
A church with a strong history of social justice and
mission, this congregation is committed to living into the
Gospel by caring for their community. The church recently
hosted a display of The Shower of Stoles Project to demonstrate
their vision of a truly inclusive and welcoming Church.
Central Presbyterian Church
Owensboro, Kentucky
Founded in 1892, a downtown church that ordained the
first woman elder for their presbytery is making history again
as the first welcoming congregation in the city and the first
More Light Church in its presbytery. Inspired by its pastor,
this urban church is finding new life with a ministry and outreach
that includes all of God’s children.
University Presbyterian Church
Tuscaloosa, Alabama
Located near the University of Alabama campus, this church
supported the civil rights movement when few churches did
so in the 1960’s. Building upon this understanding of justice,
this congregation makes history again in the state of Alabama
as its first More Light church.
Western Presbyterian Church
Washington, District of Columbia
Founded in 1848 in Foggy Bottom, this church with a history
of social justice is located in the heart of the U.S. capital.
Campus ministry, Miriam’s Kitchen that serves meals to the
homeless, and a Stephen’s Ministry illustrate this church’s commitment
to pastoral care and outreach.
AFFIRMING
Centenary-Queen Square
United Church of Canada
Saint John, New Brunswick
Celebrating is 210th year of continuous ministry, Centenary-
Queen Square United Church has a long history of “marching
to a different drummer.” The first minister of the congregation
(1791) had to appear annually before City Council for a
permit to preach in a town where “Methodism was under social
ban.” A more recent minister, established an Adult Day
Care for socially-, physically-, emotionally-, and mentally-challenged
adults in 1972 when most people did not understand it
was needed, and in 1978 a Children’s Day Care for impoverished
families was also begun. The congregation concluded its
ministry in its historic Gothic cathedral in August 1998 and
move into a storefront location where ministry, instead of property
maintenance, is the focus. In August 1996, the Elders authorized
the first same-gender covenanting service to be held
in Atlantic Canada. The formal celebration of declaration as
“An Affirming Congregation” within The United Church of
Canada was held on April 29th, 2001. This is the first such
declaration in Atlantic Canada. CQS United Church continues
to march to a different drummer.
Employment Opportunities
Reconciling Ministries Network is seeking applicants
for western outreach coordinator, summer and
fall internships. Contact Marilyn Alexander, executive
director, at marilyn@RMNetwork.org.
More Light church seeks pastor/head of staff in suburban
Portland. Visit the website (www.southmin.
com) and contact Anna Mohney at 503/617-9858 or
amohney@home.com. Southminster Presbyterian
Church, 12250 SW Denney Rd., Beaverton, Oregon.