Listening in the Spirit
Remarks at the Annual Gathering of the Episcopal Women's Caucus
I am the mother of two grown sons and the wife of an Episcopal priest.
When our church consecrated Gene Robinson and the discussion about homosexuality blew wide open in the Anglican Communion, I had a strange sense of déjà vu. This felt familiar.
I realized that the church itself was doing what many, if not most families do when someone in the family has the courage to come out as gay, lesbian, bisexual or transgender. We were stunned. Even though we'd seen it coming, we couldn't believe it was really happening. Each of us, individually and as churches in the Anglican Communion, responded out of our own experience and culture and history. We all looked to our faith and asked what it had to say to us about this. I know something about this, because my husband and I have a gay son. Jonah came out to us more than 10 years ago when he was in high school.
Today, across the Anglican Communion, we see the same range of responses that I have seen in my own family and in most of the families of gay people I know.
Some families break up over this. People disagree violently. They kick family members out of the house or tell them they're not invited to important family occasions. Sound familiar? We see everything from anger, fear and rejection on one end of the spectrum to unconditional love, understanding, and full acceptance on the other.
In between those two poles, most people find themselves questioning, listening, learning, and praying. They start a process of understanding what it means. For some, it's a long and difficult process, because in spite of all the changes we've seen in the last generation, the world still tells us that there's something wrong with people who are not heterosexual.
Does God tell us this? Does the Bible tell us this? When someone we love comes out, these questions matter as never before.
When my son came out, I was afraid for him. I thought something was wrong with him, and it was my fault. I knew next to nothing about homosexuality and the range of sexual orientation in the human family. But I loved my son, so I began to listen and learn. I listened to Jonah tell me what it's like to be gay. I listened to the church and the work it has done on this for more than three decades. I listened to the scriptures, and I listened to God.
I began to see that God made my son as he is and loves him as he is. So who am I to argue with God? The fact is that Jonah is a healthy, happy, utterly normal young man who happens to be attracted to men, not women. He is as capable of a fully mature, faithful, loving relationship as his father and I are. God intends such a relationship for him. His love for another man hurts no one, brings him wholeness, and brings joy to those who know him. Jonah is a gift to us, not a problem, as all our children are gifts.
Why do so many Christians persist in believing that God and the Bible tell us that something is wrong with people who are made to love their own sex? I don't know. But I do know this. The questions I asked God about my own son matter to the church as never before. And the ways we are answering them speak volumes about who we think God is, and what kind of a family the church is -- not to mention what we think about the whole human family.
When the voices of dissension over the Episcopal Church's actions began to reach a fevered pitch, I wondered, where were the voices of families? There are so many of us! Think about it. Even though gays represent only a small minority of humanity, virtually ever gay and lesbian person has living relatives -- parents, siblings, aunts, uncles, and cousins. Add us up, and we're a substantial part of the church, of society, and of the human race. We family members are everywhere! If we were all speaking to each other and to the church, the Anglican Communion would be having a very different kind of conversation today.
That's why my husband and I have started a network of clergy families and friends of lesbians and gays. We call our network CFLAG, and we have members in more than 20 dioceses from Alaska to Maine to Alabama. About half of us are moms and sisters -- some clergy, some spouses and other family members. For families like ours, the place of non-heterosexual people in the family is not a quote "issue". It is about people we deeply love who are members of our families. It is about many millions of GLBT people alive in the world today -- people who are made by God and loved by God just as they are.
When the Anglican Communion asked our church to make its case for consecrating an out gay bishop, Frank Griswold, to his great credit, knew that the church's theological and scriptural case would not be complete without the incarnational witness of gay people and their families. So it was a privilege for me to share the experience of my family with the ACC.
What I saw was the church taking an important step in the long process of integrating the reality of GLBT people in the church family.
We did not try to persuade anyone or win an argument, only to share our experience.
While we were speaking there was deep silence and, to all appearances, deep and respectful listening. The meeting did not become the occasion for the church to break apart.
Rather, it committed itself again to listening to the experience of homosexual people. I pray it holds itself to that commitment. Once again, as so many times throughout history, God is speaking to all of us through those we have historically vilified and marginalized.
I don't know where the church will end up, but I do know that God is doing something new among us.
That is where I get my hope. Today, the Spirit is speaking to us through the gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender people we love. The Spirit is helping us through the long process of learning what it means that God made some members of the human family to love their own sex. The Spirit is calling mothers and fathers, sisters and brothers of gay and lesbian people to come out of the closet as family members and friends and witness to Christ's love as we see it in the lives of those we love who are different from us. The Spirit is calling us to speak our truth to each other and to the church.
I hear talk about a power struggle in the communion, and I think that's right. This is predominantly a power struggle. But it is not between liberals and conservatives. It is not between the Global South and North America. It is not between dissidents and those who would hold the church together in disagreement. It is a struggle between the power of fear and the power of love.
Fear of listening. Fear of difference. Fear of sex. Fear of people who disagree with us. Fear of what other people, other churches will think of us. Fear of going against the will of God as we understand it. Fear of considering the very real possibility that the church has been blind and sinfully wrong in its interpretation of scripture for centuries. Fear of losing what we have --whatever authority, rights, property, or influence-- to people who have a different vision for the church. Fear of losing those we love when people of faith tell them that God considers them an abomination in His sight.
These and other fears are in a deep struggle with the overarching power of God's love... a love that created us and declared us good...a love that made humanity as diverse and beautiful as the rest of creation and delights in our God-given differences... a love that grieves for us when we cut ourselves off from each other and from God... a love that made my son and those like him beautiful and whole, and gave them to us to deepen our love and help us to see it in all of creation.
I have seen the power struggle between fear and love play itself out in many families, and now I see it in my church. I have learned that loving families get over their fear. They stop judging each other. They do not abandon each other when they differ. How loving is the Anglican family? Time will tell.
All I know is, Christ is risen, and the power of love is abroad in the world. Fear has no place in God's post-Easter world, and God is making all things right.