A Publication of the Reconciling Congregation Program at Trinity United Methodist Church
Volume 1, Number 5 - March 2000
A Publication of the Reconciling Congregation Program at Trinity United Methodist Church
Volume 1, Number 5 - March 2000
The two most important issues facing the United Methodist General Conference May 2-12 in Cleveland are expected to be a proposed "transformational direction" for the denomination, with implications for a major reorganization, and homosexuality.
The respondents of a survey conducted by the Office of Research of the church's General Council on Ministry (GCOM), based in Dayton, Ohio -- 341 clergy and 307 laity -- ranked homosexuality first among issues facing the denomination as a whole. The next most frequently cited issues were church finances, evangelism and restructuring, and the "church's mission." Church structure, homosexuality and church finances have been among the top five issues cited among respondents to GCOM surveys conducted before every General Conference since 1992. Homosexuality has been among the top five issues since 1984, when it was the third most frequently cited issue.
Regarding issues facing the entire society, respondents listed poverty, homosexuality, racism, and abortion, in that order. Homosexuality has been a difficult issue for the church since surfacing at the 1972 General Conference. Controversy in recent years has focused on the violation of church policy prohibiting clergy from performing same-sex unions. Three trials have been held, resulting in the dismissal of Nebraska clergyman Jimmy Creech and the one-year suspension of Northern Illinois clergyman Gregory Dell. A committee in the California-Nevada Annual (regional) Conference is investigating complaints against the Rev. Don Fado and 67 clergy who were present at a union ceremony for two United Methodist women in Sacramento in January 1999. The ceremony, conducted by Fado, was held in a public building.
Delegates to the 1996 General Conference inserted into the church's Social Principles a sentence saying: "Ceremonies that celebrate homosexual unions shall not be conducted by our ministers and shall not be conducted in our churches." The status of the statement was challenged, but the church's highest court ruled that it is enforceable under church law.
United Methodist members on one side of the homosexual issue are pressing delegates to retain the current language of the Book of Discipline, while members on the other side are working to have language removed, particularly the sentence prohibiting same-sex unions and a statement declaring that the practice of homosexuality is "incompatible with Christian teaching." Respondents were asked how they perceived their role as delegates. More than four out of five agreed with the statement, "I expect to learn more about the issues at General Conference, which will influence how I vote." Additionally, 93 percent agreed with the statement, "As a delegate, I will study the issues during General Conference and vote my conscience."
Only 25 percent of the respondents agreed with the statement, "I feel obliged to support the resolutions passed by my annual conference." Additionally, 61 percent agreed with the statement, "Resolutions passed by my annual conference are only guidelines. I do not feel I have to support them."
I grew up in Mobile, Alabama. The first decade of my life from 1963 to 1973 was an embattled time for the Southern U.S. While much of the country watched the horrors unfold in Vietnam in the late '60s and early '70s, we fought to keep African-Americans out of our schools, our neighborhoods, our restaurants, and our churches.
I clearly remember sitting in the pews of a Wednesday night business meeting as church leaders spouted heated words on the issue of allowing African-Americans to join our church. Mind you, no African-American person visited our church more than once. I believe they could feel an unspoken truth--they were not welcome. It was if the beautiful structure of our church was hung in the perfect position to cover an unattractive crack in our attitudes.
No one emerged victorious from this battle. Many left our congregation to join white churches in white neighborhoods. You see, our church resided in an increasingly African-American neighborhood. As long as the community remained white and middle-class, we were faithful to serving our community. The leaders of my childhood, who fought vehemently against allowing black members to join our church, believed in their hearts that God sanctioned their deeds. They quoted scripture to justify their convictions (Corinthians 6:14). They fought to preserve their way of life for their children and grandchildren. The joining of the two races was their greatest fear, whether by marriage or social occasion. Yet, few stopped to ask--what if this were a blessing? What if it brought about a new understanding? The great African-American writer Zora Neale Hurston wrote that what is different is often perceived as perverse. So it is today with the Church and gays.
I was fortunate to be nurtured by a church community where I received a solid spiritual foundation. I was also blessed to be raised by a Grandmother who refused to allow incendiary racial remarks in her household. She lived her faith and taught me that being a Christian meant forgiveness, not passing judgment, and a personal relationship with God. As I grew, I did my best to integrate these teachings into my daily living.
In high school, I was a cheerleader and a homecoming maid. I was senior class favorite. I also won awards as an athlete. During those years, I played basketball with a girl whose kind and gentle spirit was overshadowed by a decidedly masculine appearance. Sharon was gifted in basketball and math, but few people celebrated her gifts. They preferred to taunt her for her lack of "feminine" qualities. She was called a host of unsavory names. Although I never participated in these attacks on her character, I am ashamed to say, I did nothing to stop them; even though Sharon was my friend.
Maybe Sharon was gay and maybe she wasn't. I don't know, but the message was clear; "Being gay is not acceptable." Meanwhile, I dated boys because I wanted to fit in and because I was expected to date boys. As I left for college, I was disturbed by my lack of romantic emotional attachment to men as boyfriends. I had some wonderful platonic, male friends, but I was always surprised and dismayed when their friendship turned into expectations of romantic involvement. In my junior year at a Methodist college in Alabama, never having known or been exposed to a gay person--that I knew of--I began to realize that I was gay. With my feelings came a recurring dream about my wedding day. The day was a beautiful June day; water sprinklers misted a manicured, green lawn; guests gathered in droves inside a century-old gothic, stone church; the fragrance of pink roses, camellias, magnolias and lilies perfumed the air. I came gliding down a long, richly carpeted aisle in a white gown to the applause of the entire room. A large pipe organ accompanied the cheers. When I reached the front of the church, my groom was veiled. Unusual, I thought, but not strange enough to stop the ceremony. Then we were married. The veil fell to the floor. The groom, standing before me, was a woman.
I cannot begin to tell you what this dream and my emerging feelings did to me. I withdrew, afraid that someone might detect my "impure thoughts". That same year, I met my first girlfriend. Unlike my experience with men, there was no doubt that I was attracted to her in a romantic way. My feelings scared me, isolated me and worse, tortured me. I felt like someone standing, frozen, in an intersection as oncoming traffic approached. My legs wouldn't move. My mouth wouldn't scream. I could only watch and prepare for the worst.
It is no accident that the revelation of my sexuality coincided with my withdrawal from any form of organized religion. It was a terrible moment for me because I knew the importance of a spiritual life. I heard the voices of religious condemnation raging in my mind. I imagined the hurtful, disgusted gossip of my peers. The abandonment of my family and friends seemed inevitable. In short, my world felt as if were crumbling with no options other than to live honestly and watch it crumble, or to live a lie and secretly crumble inside. Did I have suicidal thoughts? Yes. This honor student, this Who's Who student, this student who played college volleyball, this student who became Editor of her college newspaper, this same student--known by many as fun-loving, positive, studious and ambitious--had suicidal thoughts. The isolation of my experience felt nearly unbearable. Telling anyone meant defaming my own character because I knew that to be gay was to be hated, feared and ostracized by much of the world, or at least by the world in which I lived. Most painful for me, it meant being marginalized in a way that I have never experienced.
Finally, late into my senior year, I made a conscious decision to build a Taj Mahal around my sexuality. After all, I did not "look" or "act" gay. It seemed far better to slowly deteriorate inside rather than risk the obstacles and letdowns that living honestly might bring. I spent many years away from the church, but at the same time, I did not allow myself to have a relationship. It was far better to be alone than to be gay. Didn't the Apostle Paul say something similar? What I did not understand at the time was that, whether or not I was single, I was gay. Even if I married a man and had children, I was gay. Even if I remained deep in the closet--so deep that they would need a map to find me--I was gay.
When I was 24, I left Ohio where I had been pursuing a Master's degree in English. Although I had planned to become a college professor, I instead moved to New York and pursued a career in publishing. At 25, I began dating a woman who worked in my office. She was Jewish, raised in New Jersey, had attended Boston University on a full chemistry scholarship and spoke half a dozen languages fluently. To be blunt, our upbringings were vastly different and, yet, I learned from her of a fresh view of God. She brought into perspective for me that my Christian upbringing was not simply rooted in itself, but also in Jewish tradition.
Over the next few years, I began to accept my sexuality. In all, I lived in New York for almost 12 years. During this time, I was both shocked and uplifted to learn that there were many gay Christians, Jews, and Buddhists who practiced their faith. Toward the end of my residence in New York, I began to suspect that God had a plan for me and that part of that plan might include the fact that I was gay! None of these realizations rendered themselves in a cloud of fire or a burning bush. I was 30 years old when I told my mother of my sexual orientation. I felt a great burden to my Mother because I am an only child. I harbored immense guilt about not providing the Son-in-law and grandchildren that I knew she wanted, but the desire to live a life of integrity won out in the end." I can no longer bare to live dishonestly," I told her. Her response was, "Everyone, my whole life, has let me down. I never thought you would."
Let me explain that I had moved to New York and through hard work, sacrifice, perseverance and the blessings of our Creator, I managed to work my way into many well-known magazines, such as Food & Wine, Travel & Leisure and Parenting. American Express Publishing had recognized me with the Chairman's Award for Quality. I had published articles and conversed with many wonderfully interesting people. In short, my career had been full of successes and, what I considered, miracles. I volunteered for the Village Visiting Neighbors--a service that visits the elderly homebound in Greenwich Village. I walked in the AIDS walk and included God's Love We Deliver--a meal service for homebound AIDS patients--on my Christmas list.
I made a point to visit my family two to three times a year in Alabama and did my best to be a good friend to those I had known over the years. I called my Mother several times a week (and still do), sent her flowers once a year and never forgot her birthday, Mother's Day or any special holiday.
I do not want you to think that I write these things to boast. My point is to convey that although my life contained many opportunities for my mother to be proud of me, she could focus only on my sexuality. Don't misunderstand me. My mother is not a cruel or insensitive person. She is a product of her environment and she follows the words of her minister as guidelines for living. She listens to the words of James Dobson, Charles Stanley and Pat Robertson with equal respect. Also know that I do not believe these men to be evil; I believe them to be uninformed.
A year earlier, I mentioned to my first cousin in Mobile that I had a gay "friend". I received a large package filled with magazines produced by Focus on the Family and the Christian Coalition. Both publications discussed the gay "agenda" at length. It's disturbing to me to know that many people received this publication as their sole source of information about gay people. I wondered at how organizations and churches that breed division in families could refer to themselves as "family-oriented".
A year after I told my Mother I was gay, I visited her for a week in Mobile, only to find the Bible verses most often used against gays, posted on the microwave and refrigerator. Anti-homosexual materials lay indiscriminately placed around her house. "How is it possible to be Christian," I thought, "if the producers of these are Christian?"
Several years ago, while still living in New York, I picked up a book at a street sale. It lay around my apartment for more than six months. Out of boredom one evening, I began to read it. The book entitled, "Stranger at the Gate", was written by Mel White, a minister at the Cathedral of Hope in Dallas, TX. Like me, Mel came from a fundamentalist background and felt trapped by his feelings. He went as far as to attempt to take his own life. You see, Mel was ordained as traditional minister. He was married with two children. Before coming out, Mel also worked closely with most of the top evangelists in the U.S. After reading his book, I realized that I too needed a spiritual life and that I yearned for Christian doctrine. My fascination with Jesus Christ had sustained my interest in the Church. While in New York, I visited an MCC, otherwise known a Metropolitan Community Church. As you may be aware, MCCs were founded as a way for gays to worship in a loving spiritual community. The minister of the New York MCC, a 5-foot woman with a short haircut and a towering voice said, "Jesus was a radical. Jesus was a mover and a shaker, an advocate for social justice." Well, . . . I had never heard anyone speak this way about Jesus. In fact, I wondered if she didn't mean some other Jesus altogether.
This statement set me to reading. As I read, I began to wonder why I had never researched the issue of homosexuality in the Bible and why I never looked more closely at the life of Jesus. Much of the answer to these questions was that I had always believed my childhood ministers. They were called by God, so when this MCC minister dissented from the traditional view of Jesus, I was forced examine what Jesus I had worshipped in my youth--who was he? This cuts to the heart of my letter to you. I write these words in hope that one spiritual leader--just one--will make a soul-searching spiritual journey through study and prayer on the issue of gays and the church. I understand the precarious position this issue invites, but I urge you to humanize gays. Visit AIDS victims (not that all AIDS victims are gay), meet with groups such as Dignity and Integrity in your home cities or attend a PFLAG meeting (Parents and Friends of Lesbians and Gays.) Take a step toward understanding. Make an informed decision.
If you are still not convinced to address this issue, know that condemning our lifestyle or simply avoiding the topic altogether, sentences us to physical harm, job harassment, housing discrimination, the rejection of friends, family and coworkers, and spiritual neglect. Moreover, your congregations may never know the blessings that come from experiencing the Body of Christ in its fullness. Like you, I am a member of the Body of Christ.
Although you may remove me from your line of vision by your actions, words or silence, you cannot do so, I believe, without diminishing God's blessings for the living Body of Christ and the evolution of Christianity. To me, it is no small consequence that we say "reconciling" and not "reconciled". "Reconciling" is an active word, taking place in the present. It is a word of movement, hope and acceptance. It is a word of progress and a meeting of minds. "The truth will set you free." May we pack these words in our lunches, sit them on the car seat next to us during our morning commute, hang them on the walls of our homes and live them as if our lives and our churches depend on them.
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This newsletter is an effort to bring to the public the stories of lesbian & gay Christians, their families & their allies. We look forward to a United Methodist Church that celebrates the full participation of all Christians in the Church.