Can We Follow Jesus & *Not* Say "Gay Is OK"?

The following is a version of my op-ed piece that appeared in The Ann Arbor (MI) News in August 2007. Given the recent door-slamming by our United Methodist kin to our LGBT sisters and brothers, and given that our North Carolina friends vote today whether or not to exclude its LGBT population -- and untold thousands more -- from equal civil rights, I think it timely to share again what is also an extension of our Bethesda Presbyterian Church witness. Note that our denomination, the Presbyterian Church (USA), opened its official doors to ordained LGBT leadership in 2011.  -- Rev. Chuck

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 19^th 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.

Is “unity at all costs” really unity? It’s certainly costly. Does “peace at any price” mean anything when only some can have the peace? Someone else is certainly paying the price. And who are we to “save” the church? As one late Presbyterian prophet put it about “the issue”: “People often ask me, ‘Who’s going to save the church?’ Friends: The church has already been saved! Our task is simply to follow the Savior.”

In our communal journey of faith – as opposed to our defensive crouch of fear – there is one compassionate and just route we can take as the church on this matter. And that is to treat, accept, and include our lesbian and gay sisters and brothers no differently than we would our heterosexual neighbors. In church, and out.

You will note I have used quotes around the words “the issue” throughout this piece. I do so for two reasons: (a) Human lives can never be minimized as an issue; and (b) “The issue” without parentheses is not about our lesbian sisters and gay brothers at all. The issue is about how the rest of us in the church relate to them.