This hurts

(Part two of two on the 2014 General Assembly)

Eight years ago I attended the General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church of Aotearoa New Zealand as a youth commissioner. It was one of the darkest times of my life… I can’t blame all that on the General Assembly, but it didn’t help. My self-identity was already pretty negative, so sitting in a room with hundreds of people and finding out that 65% of them had just voted to exclude people like me from leadership roles because our relationships are considered immoral, abnormal and offensive was enough to tip me over some kind of edge for a time.

During the debate, I had spoken about how the message would put people off engaging with the church, how it would feel like a rejection to many members of the church, of how gay, lesbian and bisexual young people were already vulnerable and didn’t need another organisation telling them their experience of love was unacceptable, and of how the rule would cause pain to families and friends as well. I finished by saying “We don’t choose who we fall in love with. And we don’t choose to become leaders in the Church. God calls us. Let’s leave our lives in God’s capable hands.”

After the debate I was caught crying on the 6 O’clock news.

It was General Assembly time again at the beginning of the month. Even from a distance I have been experiencing waves of anger, sadness and pain. This year, proposals to remove the leadership rule (banning people in same sex or de facto relationships) failed again, and a new rule was added which bans ministers from marrying same-sex couples.

It hurts. It hurts to receive the message, once again, that we are not accepted and valued as we are. It hurts to have our relationships treated, not only as sinful, but as more threatening than other sins. So much so, that the church needs special legislation to protect itself from us.

So yeah, it hurts. Even for me, supported as I am by a wonderful inclusive community. I worry about the impact another rule will have on people who are more isolated, and especially for young queer people growing up in Presbyterian families who are just starting to figure out who they are.

When I started going to church as a teenager, it was all sort of hypothetical. I didn’t even know any queer people, so I was not very optimistic about the prospect of finding a girlfriend. I went to a church where the leaders proclaimed the “love the sinner, hate the sin” message. As a 14 year old I struggled to know exactly what that rule meant for me. What exactly defined “the sin.” Did having a crush count? Writing a poem about a girl? What about a kiss? At what exact point did things tip over from loving to hate?

As I wrote when I was a little older:

It sounded so simple when he said it,
“We love the sinner, but hate the sin”
yet somehow I can’t keep it all separate.
Sinner and sin.
Person and practice.
Lover and love.
Hater and hate.
Love the sinner, hate the sin…
Somehow I always end up
hating myself.

I was lucky. The support of my family, some of my friends, and eventually the welcoming congregation I found, carried me beyond the messages of hate.

Here I am, at home with my two dear ones. Windhorse, who is sleeping but just let out a little cry. I remember wondering what she dreamed about when she was tiny. Boobies and milk probably. Now she has grasped enough language to be able to sleep-talk about things we can understand! Apparently she dreams about train trips with her mums.

L is sleeping too. Tomorrow I will try not to stay up so much later, but tonight I’ve decided to snatch this late night quiet moment to finish this blog post. Soon I will tip toe into the bedroom and curl up beside her as she dreams.

Tonight, suddenly it has struck me – I have crossed the line.

This is the stuff they hate.

Our lives are so tangled together and so infused with queer love. Love which the church refuses to celebrate. Love which makes us unsuitable people who shouldn’t be given the same opportunities to contribute to our church life. There’s no way to separate out one part which makes us “practising” (and probably parenting without a man involved makes anything else we’re doing a moot point in terms of contributing to the moral decline of society). So this, all this, is what they hate.

How exactly is the church showing us it is still loving?

The “sides” of the LGBT Christian debate

The book I wrote about in my last post reminded me that we (people with differing views within the church) have some similarities in how our every day theologies are shaped and in how we relate to one another…

…but we are not experiencing the debates about the place of queer people within the church from equal positions.

Quite often I have heard comments implying that the debate about queers in the church is characterised by two opposing groups, both equally extreme in their views, with ordinary people in the middle just wanting to get on with being the church.

We are not equal.

The current Presbyterian Church of Aotearoa NZ law denies congregations the right to call ministers who they are led to call. It denies people the right to follow God’s call and offer their gifts to the church as ministers and elders.

Those of us who oppose this rule are not telling other congregations that they have to call gay, lesbian or bisexual ministers. We’re not even telling them they can’t call homophobic ministers. We are just saying that we want the space to be able to call our own ministers, and to follow God’s call in our own lives.

There are people in the denomination who want a ban on ministers officiating at same-sex weddings.

Those of us who support same-sex marriage are not going to force any minister to marry a same-sex couple. We are asking for the space for ministers to be able to discern for themselves who they should marry… and for Presbyterians in same-sex relationships to be able to have their love affirmed and celebrated in a church ceremony led by a minister if that is what they want.

Some people are debating. Some of us are debated.

There are some of us who are at the heart of this debate. It’s not about abstract issues, it’s not about theology, it’s about us. Our lives.  Our identities. Our right to be believed when we speak about the ways God is working in our lives. Our right to offer our gifts to our church. Our love. Our right to experience the gift of sexuality and the joy of a loving relationship.

As well as the “two extremes” line, there’s the “why do people have to keep bringing up this issue over and over? We just want to have a peaceful time at General Assembly…”

Some of us can’t stop bringing up this issue. It’s about our whole lives.

Keeping faith and choosing love

One of the films which screened in Out Takes this year was Love Free or Die; a documentary that followed Gene Robinson. Gene stepped into the international spotlight ten years ago as the first openly gay partnered bishop in the Anglican communion.

Although I already knew a little of Gene’s story, I was shocked by some of the details. I knew that he had received death threats, but I did not know that the police had arrested a man who seemed to be on his way to Gene’s house with a sawn-off shotgun and tons of ammunition. Living his life so openly is such a courageous act.

I knew that Gene had not been invited to the 2008 Lambeth conference. I did not know that the Archbishop of Canterbury (at that time) Rowan Williams had also banned churches in England from inviting Gene to preach. Williams’ behaviour disgusted me, especially given he was supposedly trying to preserve the unity of the Anglican communion. Vilifying individuals and trying to suppress minority views is not a pathway to unity. At the time of the conference Williams said “Some of the practices of certain dioceses in the American church continue to put our relations as a communion under strain, and some problems won’t be resolved while those practices continue.” The next year, despite Williams’ pleading, a substantial majority of delegates at the US Episcopal church’s convention voted in support of the ordination of gay and lesbian priests and bishops. Basically, Williams wanted to sweep the majority of Anglican leaders in the US and Canada (and many in other places) under the carpet and ignore their concerns.

There is now an openly lesbian bishop, Mary Glasspool. After she was elected as a bishop in Los Angeles, Gene realised he no longer needed to be the openly queer voice in the house of bishops, and that perhaps he was called to a new role. He has taken up a position with the Center for American Progress, working on faith and gay rights issues. It must be a relief to let someone else take a turn as a prominent face of queers in the church.

I am part of the Presbyterian Church of Aotearoa New Zealand. Currently, our church bans gay, lesbian and bisexual people from becoming ministers, elders or leaders in the church. Anyone who is in a relationship outside of a faithful marriage between a man and a woman is not considered fit for these roles (although those already ordained as ministers before 2004 can continue in that role). I was a youth commissioner at the General Assembly where this ruling was passed with 65% in favour. It was a deeply painful time. I hope I never again have to experience sitting in a room with 230 people who think I’m sinful and unworthy of having the same opportunities and fulfilment that they have. That’s what the church decided: some of us are not worthy of living full and happy lives. The church makes it clear that we shouldn’t be fulfilled in love (even if we are not called to leadership, our loving relationships are regarded as sinful). If we feel God is calling us to have a leadership role in the church, we cannot offer our gifts and our service and answer that call… unless we say no to love.

Watching the footage of the debates in the Episcopalian church, I felt sad and hopeful. Sad, because their discussions made me think we are a long way behind them. I wonder if part of it is that there is a big group of gay, lesbian and bisexual clergy there. Maybe not bigger as a percentage of the church, but more faces for others to have to look into before voting. I felt hopeful as well, because it was a reminder that the arc of the moral universe bends towards justice. Change will come. Churches in other places have found different ways to move forward together. Refusing to invite people to the conversation, as Williams did, will not lead to unity and peace. We have to talk to one another.

In association with the Love Free or Die documentary, a project called the Friends and Family Plan has been launched. It provides people with information and resources to help them to have conversations with friends or family members about gay, lesbian and bisexual people and the church. It’s an exciting concept which recognises that “Change happens most powerfully person to person – loved one to loved one.” The website is targeted towards people in the USA, but some of the resources are relevant elsewhere.

Here, in the PCANZ, all that seems to be happening is that every two years some of us (often the same few) who dissent bring another motion for the ruling to be removed, and lots of people say they wish that the issue would go away and we could have nice peaceful gatherings.

I would love our church to create more spaces for conversation. Kanohi ki te kanohi. Face to face. Meeting together and facing up to those who are affected by these issues. Not shutting anyone out because we don’t agree with them. The very slow shift in attitudes, as the church gets dragged along a little by the changing tide in society, is not enough.  We need to take active steps to move forward from this place.