I’m an ordained Protestant pastor. In my 17 years of
ordained service (as of 2012), I have witnessed too
many of us who are mainline Protestants (e.g., United Methodist, American
Baptist, most Presbyterians and Lutherans) trying to resolve “the issue” of whether lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender members of our faith communities can serve in leadership positions in the
following three ways:
- Some have said no to homosexuality. Love the sinner and hate the sin. And the Bible says homosexuality is a sin.
- Others have said, “I don’t know.” The jury’s out. Let’s dialogue about this for awhile among us heterosexuals, to see if we can establish common ground.
- Others have said yes to homosexuality … but. “The issue” is causing much dissension among our number. We’re supposed to present a face of unity to the world, and our unity is suffering mightily. So let’s paper over the matter the best we can, and get on with the real ministry of the church.
Are any of these
three options tenable? Or is there another way – more compassionate and just –
that says “yes and”?
First: the naysaying.
Many point to the Bible – alas, without consulting psychiatry or psychology or
biology (these disciplines and others settled the matter ages ago).
Homosexuality and scriptures: what a loaded subject, in any faith – one
impossible to engage fully here. So let’s at least acknowledge that
non-fundamentalist faith seekers do not worship scriptures; we worship the holy
made manifest through scriptures. Let’s at least acknowledge that the word
homosexual and the understanding of homosexuality as a sexual orientation did
not appear until the 19th century, and biblical texts were composed
a full 17 centuries or more before then. Let’s at least acknowledge that no
more than a half-dozen biblical verses mention anything akin to same-gender
sexual expression … and Jesus says nothing. And finally, let’s at least acknowledge
that those so eager to cite biblical chapter-and-verse to exclude lesbians and
gays from full participation in the church are seldom those who have come to
know lesbians and gays as their neighbors in the first place. Indeed, I have
found – almost without exception – that such biblical interpretation is based
on an underlying relational estrangement, and not vice versa.
Second: the
fence-straddling. There’s nothing wrong with fence-straddling if
uncertainty rightly prevails when discussing an important issue. But what if
uncertainty prevails when those who are “the issue” cannot contribute as full
partners in the dialogue? Perhaps it’s because of this defect in the dialogue
that we mainline Protestants have been discussing this matter for well over a generation.
And our wheels keep spinning, and the matter just won’t go away. And – as with
earlier matters of racial and gender exclusion in our churches – it will never
just go away. So why keep our wheels spinning? To dig deeper ruts?
Third: the yes-buts. Certainly,
three decades of obsession with “the issue” has left deep and lasting scars on
mainline Protestant bodies nationwide. As with any justice movement through the
ages, wounds to the institutional church are inevitable. Still, several
erstwhile allies of lesbians and gays are now crying out, “The church has hurt
enough! Let’s move on.” Well: Move on to what? If we don’t get this major
justice matter right, while it’s on our plate, will we get any others right?
And do we want to move on because we have hurt enough, or we have hurt enough with? I don’t believe it is the latter.
