Isaiah 55: 1-5; 12-13
55 “Come, all you who are thirsty,
come to the waters;
and you who have no money,
come, buy and eat!
Come, buy wine and milk
without money and without cost.
2 Why spend money on what is not bread,
and your labor on what does not satisfy?
Listen, listen to me, and eat what is
good,
and you will delight in the richest of fare.
3 Give ear and come to me;
listen, that you may live.
I will make an everlasting covenant
with you,
my faithful love promised to David.
4 See, I have made him a witness to the
peoples,
a ruler and commander of the peoples.
5 Surely you will summon nations you
know not,
and nations you do not know will come running to you,
because of the Lord your God,
the Holy One of Israel,
for he has endowed you with splendor.”
You will go out in joy
and be led forth in peace;
the mountains and hills
will burst into song before you,
and all the trees of the field
will clap their hands.
13 Instead of the thornbush will grow
the juniper,
and instead of briers the myrtle will grow.
This will be for the Lord’s renown,
for an everlasting sign,
that will endure forever.”
Galatians 3:28
There is neither Jew nor Gentile,
neither slave nor free, nor is there male and female, for you are all one in
Christ Jesus.
John 14:15-21
15 “If you love me, keep my commands.
16 And I will ask God, who will give you another advocate to help you
and be with you forever— the Spirit of truth. The world cannot accept Spirit,
because it neither sees Spirit nor knows Spirit. But you know Spirit, who lives with
you and will be[ in you. I will not leave you as orphans; I will come to
you. Before long, the world will not see me anymore, but you will see me.
Because I live, you also will live. On that day you will realize that I am
in God, and you are in me, and I am in you. Whoever has my commands
and keeps them is the one who loves me. The one who loves me will be loved by God, and I too will love them and show myself to them.”
***
Will you pray with and for me? God of
Grace, pour out your blessings on this time; give us all the wisdom and courage
to speak and hear and share and be your truth and love for us. Give us hope and
strength as we seek your justice for all your people. In all your names, amen.
It is indeed a pleasure to be here, and
to share with you a bit of my story. That’s not because I am special, but because
I can only tell my story. Other people have other stories; I can only tell you
mine.
As you may have guessed, I grew up in
the US, in Michigan. I grew up in the United Methodist Church—and when I say “grew
up,| I mean pretty much lived there. My mother was raised in the Methodist
church, my parents were married in the Methodist church, I was baptised and
confirmed in the Methodist church. When I married, it was in the Methodist
church, and my son was baptised in the Methodist church. And when I finally
responded to God’s call to ministry, after a career as an information
specialist, I went to seminary—Wesley Seminary—and earned my Master of
Divinity.
That heritage, and the church, has been
very important to me throughout my life. When my parent divorced, it was the
director of the church youth group and my friends in that group who stood by
me. The church was always a place where I felt at home and appreciated—I served
as an acolyte, played in the bell choir and sang in the youth choir—and then the
adult choir and was active in the youth group. I even preached my first sermon
there, at the age of about 14, for the youth group’s Easter sunrise service!
When my then-husband and I moved into a house across the street from a
Methodist church, I was once again at home and welcome—I served on several
committees—worship, education, fellowship—was the church librarian, sang in the
choir, and so on and on. After my son was born, he was baptised in that
church—and still, at the age of 25, considers that his home church.
And so off I went to seminary. What a
transforming time it was! Wesley is one of several seminaries in the DC area,
and, with the others, formed a consortium. Students were required to take at
least one class at one of the other seminaries, and could take more than that
if they wished. Remember also that Washington DC is a very diverse city—and the
student body at Wesley reflected that. We had students from literally around
the world—Russia, Korea, Nigeria, India, Nicaragua, Kenya—and from many
different denominations. The Conservative Jewish rabbi who taught the class in
Jewish Thought and Theology in a yarmulke, the Catholic priest in his friar’s
robes, and others less colourful but no less diverse—Presbyterians, American
Baptists, Quakers, Lutherans. In fact, a chapel service was
held each year to celebrate that diversity—always one of the favourite chapel
services! And yes, sexual orientation was included in that diversity.
It was one of the many blessings of my
time at seminary—the diversity of the students and staff, the challenges of the
coursework, the emotional and spiritual growth. One of the central tenets of
the seminary was to tell your own truth—not what a theologian had said or what
the professor taught, but the truth as we understood it. This was most obvious
in our Biblical study courses and in our systematic theology class, in which
the project in the first term was to write our own creed, or statement of
faith, and in the second term, to rewrite it.
The importance of this really came home
to me when I began serving a country charge right out of seminary. It was very
clear that I had to be my authentic self—not what they wanted me to be, or what
they thought I was, but simply me. And so I realised I had to speak my truth to
the congregation I served—but I was not speaking that truth. I came out to
myself and a few trusted friends, but could not come out completely.
“Coming out” is a term that means to be
open about one’s sexual orientation—it happens over and over as a person meets
new people and changes jobs and so on. It doesn't mean a big announcement—it is
really in the small quiet things, like putting your same-gender partner’s name
on a form under “spouse,” or putting a photo on your desk at work of you and
your same-sex partner. Things that differently-gendered—or straight—couples don’t
even think twice about are flags that out a lesbian, gay man, bisexual person
or transgender person.
Now, as you may or may not know, the
United Methodist Church in the US does not permit gay men or lesbians to be
ordained or appointed to Methodist churches. I happen to identify as bisexual,
so when I came out to those few people, a couple of them suggested I try to
contest the church law, and argue that the Book of Discipline doesn't mention
bisexual people, so I should be ordained. Well, I had just seen what happened
when a transgender person tried to come back from the leave of absence she took
during her transition. I did not want to experience the hurtful and
un-Christian attacks she had gone through. And I aso had family reasons. And finally, I didn't want to be
identified as just that part of me—I wanted to pastor with all of myself, not
be seen for only one facet of myself.
So I transferred to Metropolitan
Community Churches, and was ordained at MCC Washington DC, and then was called
to Windsor, to serve MCC Windsor.
While that path was difficult for me
sometimes, it was easier than most. I had not grown up with the idea that
lesbians, gay men, bisexual people and transgender people (LGBT for short) were
evil or sinful or going to hell—in fact, I didn't grow up with a clear concept
of hell. And homosexuality simply wasn't something that was discussed in my
church home. In my family, it wasn't ignored but it wasn't emphasized—it was
simply a part of who a person was. In fact, in my well-read family where
literature was of vital importance, I read the poetry of May Sarton and Walt
Whitman and the historical fiction of Mary Renault—so I was aware of what
“lesbian” and “homosexual” meant. My parents treated the topic
matter-of-factly, and in retrospect, I can see that they were very progressive
on social questions. So when I came out to my family, I received nothing but
support and love. That is something that many LGBT people do not receive. Youth
who come out to parents who do not accept them are often evicted from the
family home, and account for a good percentage of homeless youth. Living on the
street, as many are forced to do, sometimes leads to sex work and illegal drug
use. Other youth, even if they stay in the family home, face so much anger and
bullying that they choose to take their own lives. I don’t have the exact
numbers, but LGBT youth complete suicide at a higher rate than non-LGBT
youth—and completed suicide is highest among transgender youth. This is why so
many LGBT groups are so passionate about the support needed for LGBT youth
through gay-straight alliances in the schools and training for teachers,
coaches and other people who work with youth.
While the UMC officially had no use for
me, and would have expelled me if I had not left first, I found a lot of
support there as well—mentors, superiors, and other church members lamented the
loss to the UMC of not only me, but several others who have left the UMC for
the same reasons. Others, in other denominations and faith traditions, have
been publicly shamed in front of their community of faith, been demonized,
defrocked, shunned and silenced. It is painful enough for a church member to be
expelled from a congregation--I don’t know if I can express to you how painful
it is for an ordained person to have that ordination removed. We who are
ordained have responded to Spirit’s special call on our lives—have gone through
a maze of study, requirements, interviews, psychological tests and review
boards—sustained by our sense of call, our sure knowledge of where we needed to
be in order to be what we were created to be. To have that removed, to be told
we were deluded, that we are so evil we cannot possibly serve God’s people
effectively—that is, in a very real sense, a death sentence to us. And yet,
LGBT people are told this all the time, by many faith traditions. A clergy
friend remembers telling her childhood pastor that she thought she was called
to ministry. He responded that she needed to listen more closely, that God didn't call women to ministry. The world has moved on from there, but now it is
LGBT people who are being told that God doesn't call them to ministry. Who are
we to decide for another group that they—as a group, whether it is women, or
First Nations people or people of colour or people living with disabilities—are
never called to ministry? Who are we to put limits on God? On an individual
basis, of course we should be testing the call and ensuring that individuals
are fitted for ministry. But to decide pre-emptively that someone, by virtue of
membership in a group, is not called is the height of arrogance.
I was one of the lucky ones. I did not
lose my family. I had to transfer from one faith institution to another, but I
did not lose my calling. I lost a few friends, who were caught up in their own
fear and narrow-mindedness—friends who I thought would be able to see beyond
the label to me and continue to love me. I was wrong. But I wasn't thrown onto
the street. I have never been physically attacked. I have never been harassed
at home or at work. I have never been refused service at a hotel or restaurant
or store. I was not denied custody of my son. He was never told by my
ex-husband’s family that I am a terrible mother or prevented from seeing me. I
have never been told I deserve to be imprisoned for life, or that I deserve to
die. But all those things have and do happen, not only in faraway places like
Nigeria and Uganda and Russia, but here in Canada, in Ontario, in Essex County.
But there is hope. And it doesn't lie
solely in the determination and courage of the LGBT community, working in the
political system or through education or through simply living quiet lives,
living examples of who LGBT people really are. I believe that members of faith
communities can be the strongest allies to the LGBT community. So much of the
homophobia, transphobia and biphobia of society is based on misunderstanding
and mistranslation of Biblical passages that it is vital for our allies in
faith communities to speak up and say, “We stand with our brothers and sisters
in the LGBT community. We acknowledge our ancestors caused pain and death and
we will work to overcome prejudice and hatred based on spiritual teachings.”
I don’t have time today to review those
readings—the “Clobber passages,” as they are called, from Leviticus, Genesis,
and Romans—but I will sum up the discussion by saying simply that Biblical
study must take into account translations and context. I would also remind us
that the circle of Christianity has always been widening—starting with Jewish
converts to include, at various times, pagans, Romans, slaves, people of
colour, women…the circle ever widens.
Listen again to the words of Isaiah: 55
“Come, all you who are thirsty, come to the waters; and you who have no money, come,
buy and eat! Surely you will summon nations you know not, and nations you do
not know will come running to you, because of the Holy One your God.” What
a lovely, gracious invitation to all God’s people! Nations you do not know… And
Paul in his letter to the Galatians says that we are all one in Christ—no
divisions, not between slave and free, not even male and female. The Gospel
writer John reports Jesus saying, “Whoever has my commands and keeps them is
the one who loves me. The one who loves me will be loved by God, and I too will
love them and show myself to them.” There are no conditions set on that love—no
disqualifying statements or requirements. Simply love God—for God loves you.
Homophobia, biphobia, transphobia—it is
not about just discomfort with people who are lesbian, gay, bisexual or
transgender. It is about denying the humanity of people who are LGBT. Those who
would deny us basic rights—to live safely wherever we can afford to live, to a
legal bond to the one we love, to raise our children in safety, to work in
safety, to pursue a vocation we feel called to, whether that is clergy or
teaching or banking, to simply be who God created us to be—would deny that LGBT
people are human beings. If that is not said in so many words, it is made clear
in their actions. We in the LGBT community cannot do this alone—we need and
want the support and encouragement of our allies.
Do you speak up when someone makes a
racist comment? Then do the same when you hear a gay slur. Do you allow your children
to listen to music that advocates the abuse of women? Then don’t allow them to
listen to music that demonises LGBT people. In the final analysis, it is our
allies—people just like you, here and now—who will tip that balance of the
world towards love and acceptance. No minority can do it on our own. Although
the struggle is ours, we cannot do it without you, too.
I would leave you with a final thought,
from Anglican Archbishop Desmond Tutu of South Africa, a tireless worker and
pioneer for civil rights in that country. He said, “I would not worship a God
who is homophobic and that is how deeply I feel about this. I would refuse to
go to a homophobic heaven. No, I would say sorry, I mean I would much rather go
to the other place. I am as passionate about this campaign as I ever was about
apartheid. For me, it is at the same level.”
In all God’s names, amen.
