The Assumptions We Make

One of the things that I think I have had to fight against the most is the tendency for people to want to label me and put me in a box that makes sense to them.   When I was in prep school, I caused a bit of a meltdown for some people when I quit the soccer team and instead went in the direction of theater.  A jock could not be an artist and vice-versa.   When I still played basketball and became a co-captain of the varsity team, I had teachers asking me when the tickets for the winter musical would go on sale.  "I believe that will happen in another two weeks," I would helpfully respond.  "Oh, and by the way, I am not involved in the musical.  I'm playing basketball."  They'd fall all over themselves to apologize, which seemed strange to me as well, but I knew what the issue was.  I wasn't fitting into a pre-determined box.   Who knew a New England prep school could be so tied in to a predestination-like mindset, eh?

For two nights now, I have been the presenter at Tallahassee Little Theatre in some pre-show talks before their performance of the play, "Next Fall."   The story line involves a gay couple, one who is Christian and the other is agnostic to atheist.   They live in New York City in a cramped apartment with Mapplethorpe knock-offs on the bedroom walls.  The Christian isn't out to his parents (who happen to live in Tallahassee), and is terrified to tell them he's gay.  Meanwhile, he is driving his lover nuts because he does things like prays after sex.  The play drove ME nuts, too.  Mostly because I found the Christian character's behaviors so unbelievable and totally not in keeping with a gay liberation theology.  Instead, the Christian became a characterization of what it is to be a gay follower of Christ and I believe feeds into the stereotype that we are all self-hating queers.  As such, I specifically geared my remarks, which were to promote our local PFLAG chapter, toward a simple theme:  Love is unconditional, and do not make assumptions about people based upon labels.  Just because someone is Republican or wears a crucifix does not automatically make them an enemy of the LGBT community. 

I used my own parents as the example.   I told the audiences of roughly a dozen people each night that if they were to look at my parents histories and biographies on paper, they would never peg them for parents that would love and accept their gay child.  Both of them were hard-core Republicans, met on the Dwight Eisenhower campaign, my mom gave birth to me while working on George Romney's campaign for President in 1968, my dad was telling us to say, "I hate rats; I love cats; I hate dirty Democrats."   My family was all for Ronald Reagan in 1980 and 1984 (I was not).  And there was never a kind word offered about LGB people in the whole time that I was growing up.  Not at home.  Not at the church.  Not on television.  So coming out to my parents was a terrifying experience because I had no expectation that I was going to be loved. 

And I was wrong.

Not only did my parents love me.  My coming out introduced my mother to PFLAG which became a new home for her, and it propelled her to do things like confront the issue of gay rights in her Episcopal Church, and to stand in front of larger-than-life politicians like Sen. Bob Dole, R-Kansas, and say, "Bob, I want to know what you're going to do about gay rights and the Employment Non-Discrimination Act." (Dole stammered out an answer,sotte voce, that he didn't discriminate blah blah blah).

I also shared my coming out to my dad story, in which my father, upon hearing me say I was a lesbian, paused, thought and then said, "Well....who's to say Jesus Christ wasn't gay."  (Take that everyone who wants Jesus to have a wife!) 

My point in sharing these stories with my theater-going audiences was to remind them that there is the potential for anyone to be an ally for LGBT rights.  And the biggest mistake that we in the gay community sometimes make is to make assumptions such as, "This person is a Christian; they are against me."  If the person really is a Christian, she should be our greatest ally and advocate.  All of Christ's teachings are about love, and putting love into action.  He was about being with the marginalized of his society, touching the lepers who were seen as the unclean, and talking with women which was simply not done.  And it was because Jesus understood the burdens of oppression and what it meant to be denied love that his life, witness, death and resurrection stir the hearts of many who have experienced that same sting of rejection by the majority.  Those who really "get it" are the ones who stand with the LGBT community today and join in our fight for justice.

There is that old saying, "When you assume, you make an "ass" out of "u" and "me."  Something to remember as we look for new allies in the fight for equal rights for all.

 

Black, Gay and Christian: Another Trinity

PFLAG-Tallahassee group with playwright and actor James Webb in the black T-shrit.

 I had a great time Saturday night returning to the FAMU  campus to bring along some of the PFLAG group to see, "The Contract" by James Webb.  I had seen and written about the play this winter, (see "The Contract Raises Questions") and so I was very excited that it was back, and I could get a group together to see it.

Unlike my previous experience, when the play was done in the black box theater, the audience at this last performance were engaged, and not enraged.  Moments in the play, and different statements coming from the characters, made some people shake their heads or mumble out loud, "Don't do it!" or "Girl??" or whatever.  But nobody, at least that I could see or hear, stormed out of the theater or worried at intermission about their own souls for witnessing this play.

There has been a lot of difference in the world between the first time I saw this performance at the end of January and this past weekend.  And I think some of that also gave the play a slightly different feel for me.  Since President Obama's endorsement of marriage equality on national TV, there has been a tremendous public shift in the dialogue, especially coming from the pulpit of black churches.  On YouTube, there are more examples of black preachers endorsing the President.  Polls are showing that the attitudes of black voters on the question of marriage equality are softening from the hard-line stance that it is an abomination to a more "live and let live" attitude.  Even on my own Facebook page, I am watching with interest as black community leaders go toe-to-toe with those who are reeling from this announcement from the President and reminding their brothers and sisters that it wasn't that long ago that the majority of Americans didn't think blacks should have equal rights or be allowed to marry the person they loved.

And the media has discovered that there is this other trinity that exists in the world:  Black, Gay and Christian.  National Public Radio has done reports about the presence among us of such Christians, and the New York Times this past weekend ran an article about a black gay church in Harlem.  Is this really anything new?  No, it isn't.  But since the President has made it OK to talk about it, lips are opening.and tongues are speaking.  And plays, such as "The Contract", are cracking open the doors of the churches and allowing more light to enter.

I have felt pain for my gay brothers and sisters in the black church.  I have heard them talk about their difficulties and fears about coming out in an environment that has been so openly hostile.  Many of them have given up attending church, figuring it is better to just have whatever relationship they're going to have with God without the grief of being amongst the hateful ones on a Sunday morning.   And still many more have internalized the hatred they've heard from the pulpit and believed the b.s. that God doesn't like "their kind."  In turn, they have brushed off God, so they can enjoy being gay.   Those same scenarios exist for whites raised in the church as well.

I will say it again, and again, and again:  God is Love, and Love does not reject love, same-sex or opposite-sex.   When two people share a mutuality of love for one another that is not forced or coerced, then it is a human expression of the love God has toward all of creation.  

May that love continue to spread, and may the churches, both black and white, grow up further into Christ and the understanding that we are all part of this vibrant, diverse, and beautiful body.

Ministry Viewed Through a Coffee Mug

During our Education for Ministry group, we were given a reflection exercise where we had to choose an item off the center table.  We were to examine said item, notice why we had picked it, and anything that the item brought to mind.

Once we had done that, we were to consider how this item reflected our ministry.

My item was a "Life is Good" coffee mug.   Initially, I was drawn to it because I like the Life is Good series.  One of my massage school teachers always wore the company's T-shirts with the smiling stick figure drawings hanging out in a lawn chair with a beer, or surfing, or fishing, or bike riding.  As I looked closely at the mug, I found the phrase on the other side: "Do what you like. Like what you do."  I noticed it was somewhat heavy, with a thick-lipped rim.  But what I kept thinking about the cup is that it was empty, and yet "Life is Good."

That thought of "empty, but good" was the basis of my ministerial reflection.  I thought about all of the "official" ways in which I minister:  I am a co-mentor in EfM, a Eucharistic Minister, the leader of Circle of Hope, a leader in PFLAG, and very important, I am a licensed massage therapist, a ministry of healing to those broken by the world.

I looked at the coffee mug again.  Coffee mugs are common every day objects.  I thought about how I take myself, my Christianity as colored in by the Episcopal Church, into common every day places all the time.  One of the most common spaces is among those in my theater group, the Mickee Faust Club.  And while I wouldn't describe the cabaret-style theater we do at Faust as "common", the people involved are representative of the vast majority who have been injured by the church in some way and are embittered, or who just don't bother with the church at all.   In this way, I am a bit of a mystery to my fellow Faustkateers.  As I told my EfM group, I don't push the Christ message on people with lots of "Jesus! Jesus! Jesus!"  But because I don't park my Christianity at the door, I know I have made some in the company have to think about blanket statements that start with, "Well, y'know, Christians are always doing...."

This, of course, is something I used to do myself.  The blanket accusation of all Christians for the sins being committed by a few.  I had had more than one or two of the little "c" "christian" persuasion scream at me to "Repent!" of my homosexuality, or corner me in an effort to convert me, or seen them in the media denouncing the likes of me.   I also was horrified that none of the big "C" Christians felt there was a need to counter these messages with the actual Gospel of Love.  Their silence hurt as much, if not more, than the ones who claimed to be speaking in the name of Christ while denigrating members of the body of Christ.   I am reminded of a passage in Romans 14:

Why do you pass judgement on your brother or sister? Or you, why do you despise your brother or sister? For we will all stand before the judgement seat of God.For it is written,

‘As I live, says the Lord, every knee shall bow to me,

   and every tongue shall give praise to God.’

So then, each of us will be accountable to God.

Let us therefore no longer pass judgement on one another, but resolve instead never to put a stumbling-block or hindrance in the way of another. 

It it this ethic that I carry with me into these common spaces such as Mickee Faust.   Because even among the ones who have never cared for or thought much of the church, there may be one who is looking for that beacon of light from God as guidance to a new understanding of how they are connected to God, this world, and all of creation.  In his day, Christ was that very bright beacon on a mission to get people to stop bickering over the dicta of how you love God and, in the phrase of Madison Avenue, "just do it!"   That is what we are all called to do as members of the eternal priesthood of the laity.  Our purpose, vocation and ministry is to live and show forth a life that others might see Christ in us.   And then it will be God's own doing that will go to work on the heart, mind and soul of a person.

The more we empty ourselves and share what and who we are, life will be good.

The Contract Raises Questions

The cast of "The Contract" by James Webb.  Webb , in foreground,  played Pastor Daryl.

The divide between gay and God.  For so many in Christian churches, that divide seems to be alive and well.  And it is that dualism that is the subject of James Webb's play, "The Contract".   Webb is a graduate of Florida A and M University, and to the theater department's credit, they decided to put on this production at a time when that campus is facing increased scrutiny after Marching 100 drum major Robert Champion was killed during a hazing incident.  Champion was gay, and rumors are that this hazing turned particularly violent in part because of his sexual orientation.  Whether that will ever be proven and whether anyone will ever be held accountable is all up in the air.   The "gay angle" has been somewhat looked at mostly by the campus newspaper.  But the whole incident has raised questions about being gay and black on the campus.  When you add Christian into that... it becomes really wiggy.

In the play, Pastor Daryl has what he calls "an affliction".  His wife Deborah insists her husband is NOT gay, but a bisexual even though their relationship is clearly a business arrangement for the purposes of a Birmingham megachurch.   Paul is a young graduate student recruited by Deborah to service her husband.  She makes Paul sign a contract.  And she spends the play trying to enforce this contract, manipulating both men, and determined to be the one in control.  As she notes to Paul, an avid chess player, "the queen has the power on the board.  All the rest are pawns."   Paul asks questions, and pushes Daryl to consider the double-life he is leading by pretending to be straight as he leads a flock of thousands in his church.  Daryl remains conflicted and finally yells it out that what he fears is hell.   The pastor has internalized everything that had ever been said or done to him in the church and can not reconcile his homosexuality with his Christianity.  And so he tries to keep them apart, having Paul as his New York City play thing and very far removed from Birmingham.
  

Meanwhile, Paul, who really hadn't spent much time in church, has become curious about the Bible and finds such gems as the story of David and Jonathan.   Of course, this is one of the passages from 1 Samuel that a lot of us queer Christians are keen to read, mark, learn and inwardly digest.   And we are always told by the scholars, the priests, the theologians, that the kind of bonding those two men had was purely platonic and not at all sexual.   I find it fascinating how quick some are to "explain" David and Jonathan's relationship while insisting that other readings condemn me.   Paul repeats things that Daryl has said about God in an effort to make the man see the light that he can be gay and Christian.   At long last, Daryl does realize that his sexuality is a gift and not a curse.  But not without paying a heavy price.

Such is the truth of being authentic.   And in achieving authenticity, the character Daryl finds himself closer to God than he ever has been before.  No statement could be truer of what it means to be in relationship with God.  Hell, for Daryl, was trying to compartmentalize a piece of himself as if he could hide that from the all-knowing God from whom all our desires are known and from whom no secrets are hid.  In many ways, all the characters come to know a peace at the end of the play.

As interesting as the story line was, I found myself also taking in the audience in this intimate performance space.  Before the last lines were said, at least five people had walked out, one quite loudly popped up from her seat and stormed off.   The young woman next to me had to sit separately from her friend.  She was so upset by the subject matter that at intermission, she turned to her friend and begged her to go.

"I got work tomorrow, and I gotta go to church and repent of this sin!"

"They weren't really kissing.  This is a play!" her friend answered.

The girl started crying.  She had been so looking forward to this play all day, but she had no idea what it was going to be saying about black church leaders.  She pleaded with her friend to please let her go and sit in the car.  Meanwhile, as the lights went down, I noticed that the couple that had been on the other side of her had already left.  Perhaps they, too, had become uncomfortable.  The two girls stayed... almost to the end.  But they couldn't hang on long enough to see how this story would resolve itself.

Those of us who did stay gave the performers a standing ovation.  It was a very risky, touchy topic, and I appreciated the willingness to bring more light into the darkness of the down low and hypocrisy of the church, particularly the black church which has carried a megaphone into the megachurch pulpit to call gay people an abomination even though their choirs, ushers, and sometimes deacons and pastors are as queer as a three dollar bill.

For that young woman, and the others who felt the need to leave, perhaps they don't have ears to hear or eyes to see what is right in front of them.   But their attitudes show that there will be those who will turn their backs rather than to consider the Christ that resides in all of us.  Even us gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender ones.