Skip to content

A View of Marriage: Overture Advocate Tim Heart-Anderson

I’m Tim Hart-Andersen, Presbytery of the Twin Cities Area.

As a pastor in a marriage equality state, our present interpretation of the Book of Order prevents my treating all members alike.
Don and Kent. An elder and a deacon. Together for over a decade.
Rick and Terry. Choir member and usher. In worship every Sunday. Together for thirty years.
Sara and Carrie. Young adults, new members with a daughter just baptized. Together for five years.

I serve a growing 3,000 member church in downtown Minneapolis. These are my people, and there are many, many more. They worship. They teach Sunday School. They give generously. They visit the sick and pray with the grieving.
And they love one another.

Nothing in scripture or in our reformed understanding of the wide-open grace of God stands in the way of their lifelong commitment being recognized by the church as marriage, except the way the church interprets the Book of Order.

When I do weddings I always talk about the Presbyterian emphasis on the covenantal nature of marriage. I talk about the gift of love enjoyed by the two being wed, and the Giver of that gift.

It breaks my heart as their pastor that our church will not allow me to use that language, rooted in our tradition, in a service of worship uniting parishioners in marriage. It’s time for us to catch up to the gift God has given them, to name it, and to bless it.

Marriage: My Story

Here we go:

I am one of those women who has been planning her wedding since before she started dating. My Pinterest board can attest to this. I wanted a long, lace,appropriately modest dress and calla lillies. Since I am a product of the church, I have also dreamed about having the pastor that I grew up with and my current pastor doing the ceremony. I would walk into the church accompanied by one of the hymns the resonates in my soul. It would be a full church service complete with confession of sin and a sermon. My new spouse and I would serve communion to all of our guests.

I eventually met my person, the person I chose to share my life with. One morning in Febuary after we returned home from church, she gave me a ring and asked me to be a permanent part of her family. The immediate answer was yes, although we weren’t sure what it meant to be engaged in a state and in a church that would not marry us. For about a year, I wore a ring and didn’t plan a wedding. Eventually, we decided that we wanted the growing number of legal protections that a legal marriage offers. We had a small service with just our families in the city hall of Cambridge, Massachuesetts. The city clerk said her magic words and we were married. There was no communion, no prayers, no benediction. It was as if the church chose not to attend my wedding. Even with all my theological training, I had to be reminded, more than once, that God can was there, even if the church was not.

It was always our intention to have two separate ceremonies, one legal and one religious. Most couples go through two parellel processes. Just there tends to be 30 minutes between signing the papers and the blessing of the church. We are at two years and counting. I still hope to get my beautiful wedding with a long lace dress and an enormous cake. I want to walk down the aisle surrounded by the great cloud of witnesses. We have been waiting for the church to affirm same-gender marriages for two years. It seems like our time may be getting close.

Folks have asked me why I am waiting for this church that does not have room for my family. There are several denominations that would welcome us in without a second thought; I could have my two bride wedding next week. It is true, other denominations would welcome me in and I wouldn’t have to wait for and struggle with the PCUSA. However, the PCUSA raised me and taught me my faith. I see her like a mother. If my mother needed me to wait so that she could joyfully and fully attend my wedding, I like to think I would wait for her. I am committed to this family, come good or bad. Although the call may change, for now I feel called to stick it out with this group. To walk together through the struggle.

In many ways, I am one of the lucky ones. I have been half-married for two years. There are couples I know who have been together for decades and have longed year after year for their church to officially recognize their covenant. Hopefully, I will never have to explain to my future children that our church that we love does not recognize our family that same way it recognizes Aunt Amber and Uncle Aaron’s family. There are people in our churches who do have that conversation with their kids.

I am working to help pass amendment 14F so it is clear in our polity that families like mine belong. I’m working so couples can have a church wedding, regardless of what state they live in. I am working because I have hope for this church and I can’t wait to have my love recognized by the folks who raised me in the faith. And I want a long lace dress.

 

Beth Greaves is a regional organizer for marriage with More Light Presbyterians. Beth has her M.Div. from Columbia Theological Seminary in Decatur, Georgia. 

A View of Marriage: Overture Advocate Scott Clark

I’m Scott Clark, Teaching Elder from Redwoods Presbytery and chaplain of San Francisco Theological Seminary. I’m also an attorney who has done hours pro-bono work defending cases like John’s, in which the only offense committed was love.

While Scripture and the confessions guide our lives as Christians, as Presbyterians we order our life according to the Book of Order and the constitutional process of interpreting it. Since states began recognizing the marriage of same-gender couples in 2004, the relationship between civil contract and covenant has come into question.

Because previous General Assemblies have failed to act, resolution of the question has fallen to the sixteen members of General Assembly Permanent Judicial Commission (GAPJC). This is the least representative process for addressing constitutional questions.

On the question of marriage, the church’s inaction has forced the GAPJC not merely to interpret the constitution, but to create policy. In February 2012, a sharply-divided GAPJC held, by an 8 to 6 vote, that PCUSA ministers are prohibited from celebrating the marriages of same-gender couples, thus creating prohibition of these marriages by judicial decision.

The six dissenting members the GAPJC wrote passionately about the injustice of the narrow majority decision. AND SEVEN of the members of that Court, including one who voted with the majority, implored this General Assembly to amend the Book of Order to correct this injustice.

Even one member of the majority opinion wrote, “By retaining that definition of marriage excluding same-gender couples despite the increasing number of jurisdictions recognizing same-sex marriage, the church creates a form of second class citizenship for faithful Christians, despite all the other places in the Book of Order where the full equality of persons regardless of sexual orientation is affirmed.” A member of the majority wrote that. (Spahr v. PCUSA, GAPJC, No. 220-08. Feb. 20, 2013, pp. 5-6)

The current policy forbidding the marriage of same-gender couples in the PC(USA) is contrary to the expansive and inclusive gospel of Jesus Christ, and to important principles of non-discrimination in our Book of Order. In its “Foundations of Presbyterian Polity” section, the Book of Order affirms that the church is to reflect the rich diversity of all people, specifically stating “there is therefore no place in the life of the Church for discrimination against any person” (F-1.0403). Rather, the church is to become:

in fact as well as in faith a community of women and men of all ages, races, ethnicities, and worldly conditions, made one in Christ by the power of the Spirit. (F-1.0404)

The church’s current policies excluding same-gender couples from the church’s pastoral care in marriage are contrary to these fundamental, constitutional principles of inclusion and non-discrimination.

You—on this committee and as General Assembly Commissioners— have the constitutional authority to correct these harmful policies. An Authoritative Interpretation affirming the Book of Order principle of pastoral discretion will bring immediate relief by reducing the threat of judicial action. Ultimately, however, the Book of Order needs to be amended. The process of amendment ratification by each presbytery’s vote is lengthy, so the General Assembly needs to begin now. Accordingly, with half the members of the GAPJC we ask you to recommend an amendment to the Book of Order that will clarify that the marriage of same-gender couples is not prohibited, and that pastors may – but are not required to — extend the church’s pastoral care in marriage to all people.

 

 

Testimony from Rev. Wally Landrum – Missouri Union Presbytery

In honor of the 14f campaign, More Light Presbyterians shares the following testimony from Rev. Wally Landrum — Missouri Union Presbytery.

Since 1788 our Presbyterian historic principals read: “we also believe that there are truths and forms with respect to which ‘men’ of good characters and principles may differ. And in all these we think it the duty both of private Christians and societies to exercise mutual forbearance toward each other.”

In 1865 as we neared the end of 600,000 deaths partly over how we differed about what the Bible says about American slavery, Abraham Lincoln said in his second inaugural, “Both read the same Bible, and pray to the same God; and each invokes His aid against the other.  It may seem strange that any men should dare to ask a just God’s assistance in wringing their bread from the sweat of other men’s faces; but let us judge not, that we be not judged. The prayers of both could not be answered; that of neither has been answered fully.  The Almighty has His own purposes.”
We here of good character differ about what is God’s will.  We all read and love the same Bible and we pray to the same God; both of our prayers could not be answered; neither has been answered fully.
Some have held consistent Biblical views on each side for 30 years. Some, like my friend Mark Achtemeier, have repented.
In 1996 Dr. Achtemeier was brought into this presbytery to speak against practicing homosexuals being ordained in the church.  In 2014 he wrote an inspiring book entitled: “The Bible’s YES to same-sex marriage – an evangelical’s change of heart.”   I know of many who have changed their minds and hearts from exclusion to inclusion; I know of no one who has moved the other way. (I guess I just live a sheltered life).
For those of you who believe this is a moral issue and the church must take a stand to support six fragments of the Bible interpreted in a specific way, voting yes will not limit the freedom you have as teaching or ruling elders to not participate in a same-gender marriage of disciples of Jesus.  You do not have to be afraid; you are free to stay traditional.
For those of you, who believe this is a love and justice issue and seek to follow over 1000 Biblical verses on love and justice, voting yes allows you to follow your understanding of scripture, your experience, and your faith in what God is calling you to believe and do.
While giving freedom of conscience for some to not participate in a same-gender marriage, your yes vote will give freedom to people of good character who disagree with them, to remain faithful to their ordination vows while they follow God’s Spirit that calls many of us to bless a legal marriage for a Christian couple’s fidelity, commitment, and love.

Rev. Dr. Wallis Landrum
Missouri Union Presbytery
Feb. 10, 2015

“Yes” Feels Like Hope

While our denomination has certainly made great strides (with help from many dedicated people), it is still an uncertain place to be a queer person. I face that uncertainty, myself. Several months before Amendment 10A passed, I committed myself to the MDIV program at Austin Seminary. At that time I was also coming to the realization that I was a lesbian. I didn’t know if I could ever be out and be ordained at the same time, but I knew that I couldn’t not follow God’s call on my life. I face uncertainty even now, as I search for a call and experience the fear and discrimination that is still so prevalent among our churches.

Over the past few years, my seminary and PC (USA) family have helped me grow into my identity as a queer person. Organizations like More Light, Parity, and Covenant Network have been guiding beacons of hope as I’ve engaged in advocacy for LGBTQ persons. I was at General Assembly, frantically tweeting as 14F was debated and amended. When the voting results were revealed, I burst into tears and threw my hands up in prayers of thanksgiving to God and the movement of the Holy Spirit.

I signed up to be a Regional Coordinator because I want to actively participate in leading the PC (USA) to becoming a church that better reflects God’s heart. 10A would not have passed without the grassroots organizing of the very people with whom I’m now working. I am uncovering skills and connections that were previously untapped. A meaningful moment for me so far was when the first presbytery I worked with voted to ratify 14F. It was the first time that this presbytery voted in favor of any pro-LGBTQ legislation. Since then, more and more positive decisions have rolled in. Each YES vote feels like hope.

One of the main reasons I’m Presbyterian is that I admire our commitment to the participation of all members in careful discernment about our theological convictions, actions, and witness in the world. I believe in Amendment 14F because I believe in the PC (USA). I attended my first presbytery meeting when I was 15. I was a young adult advisory delegate for the Presbytery of Arkansas. I remember geeking out about polity, but what I most treasured was the realization that my voice–some teenage kid from Hot Springs–mattered. No one’s sexual or gender identity should exclude them from God’s house. We are called now to recommit ourselves to the conviction that there is a place for all of God’s people, in service, in leadership, and in covenant.

 

Molly McGinnis is one of MLP’s Regional Organizers for the 14F ratification campaign. Having recently received her M.Div. from Austin Presbyterian Theological Seminary, Molly is certified ready for ordination as a Teaching Elder. She currently resides in Utah, with her beloved corgi, Culpepper. 

A View of Marriage: An Overture Advocate’s Words

I’m Will McGarvey, Teaching Elder from San Francisco Presbytery, serving a Presbyterian-UCC union congregation.

The Word is fundamental to our faith, so we must consider what Scripture says about marriage. Biblical marriages come in many different forms. But there are three consistent, underlying principles throughout the Biblical record that inform the theology and practice of Christian Marriage.

First, in the Creation stories, we’re told that God wants people to live together rather than in isolation.
Next, God’s commandments enjoin us to live in community where we can mutually care for each other.
Last, emerging with the story of Ruth and culminating with Jesus, God invites all people to participate in the inclusive fellowship built on God’s boundless love.

Putting these principles into practice in particular cultural settings, the people of God developed several different patterns of marriage. Many of the original rules governing marriage were meant to ensure the survival of God’s people and to protect against outsiders, or “others,” who might subvert the faith of the people of Israel. Today, many of those ancient Biblical practices are forbidden, unnecessary or understood as outmoded. Broadly and Biblically stated, scripture bears witness that all who trust in Christ stand in the circle of God’s grace and scripture charges us as believers to do justice, act with kindness, and walk humbly with God. (Micah 6.8)

In light of these enduring principles, the concept and practice of Christian marriage has been redefined often in response to changing cultural norms. People of faith have interpreted the institution of marriage and adapted to the prevailing customs as they discerned God speaking to their time. Yet we have not wavered from the Biblical principles of fellowship, community, family, and inclusiveness, summed up in Jesus’ command to “Love one another as I have loved you” (John 13: 34).

The meaning of marriage was at the heart of the Reformation. Martin Luther declared that priests could marry: a group to whom marriage was previously forbidden and now authorized – indeed, encouraged – to marry. John Calvin held that the regulation of marriage was not the province of the church, but of the state, with guidance from the church, of course, where the actual marriage ceremony was performed, and a minister acted as an agent of the state.

Will McGarvey

 

photo: Rev. Will McGarvey; feature photo thanks to Rev. Janet Edwards

Realities of Reconciliation

As the PCUSA takes up ratification of two historic measures — the Belhar Confession (Amendment 14-1) and the recognition of marriage as a commitment between two persons (Amendment 14-F) — there will be talk of unity and reconciliation, two central themes of Belhar. While Belhar was written in the context of the struggle against Apartheid in South Africa, the timing of its consideration within the PCUSA causes us to reflect on unity and reconciliation not only around race and class, but also around sexual orientation and gender identity. Belhar was first sent to presbyteries for ratification in 2010, alongside the proposal to remove G-6.0106b from the Book of Order and allow ordination of LGBTQ+ folks. Now it is taken up alongside an amendment to the Book of Order recognizing marriage between two persons, rather than only between a man and a woman.

Reconciliation is not new to Presbyterians as it is a central theme of the Confession of 1967. What does the work of reconciliation demand? A closer look at both of these confessions provides important insight as we continue to move forward together in the struggle for justice.

Belhar notes that

“unity can be established only in freedom and not under constraint….. we reject any doctrine which professes that this spiritual unity is truly being maintained in the bond of peace while believers of the same confession are in effect alienated from one another for the sake of diversity and in despair of reconciliation.”

This confession holds the mirror up to mainline protestant churches in the US, where more than 50 years after Martin Luther King remarked “it is appalling that the most segregated hour of Christian America is eleven o’clock on Sunday morning,” still only 7.4% of mainline churches are multiracial (with at least 20 percent of members coming from racial groups different from the congregation’s majority race). This is more than double the abysmal 2-3% estimate from the late 1990s, but it is clear that much of our church continues in alienation and despairs of reconciliation.

Those of us who survived the years of “unity in diversity” dialogue in the mid-90s recall how, in the name of unity, many lesbian and gay ordained folks (and a few bi+ and trans* too) came out to tell our stories, only to find, as did the Rev. Martha Juillerat, that we were in fact not free to tell our stories and subsequently had to set aside our ordinations.  LGBTQ+ people were frequently rebuked for causing division in the church when we sought to remove the ban on LGBTQ+ ordination. We were told (even and especially by some of our professed allies) that we must wait, in the name of unity.  As we move forward, we must not pretend that we have unity just because being out no longer costs us our ordinations. Our church still despairs of reconciliation in the face of continuing homophobia, biphobia, and transphobia in our congregations and in our constitution.

According to Belhar,

“the church must witness against and strive against any form of injustice…. must witness against all the powerful and privileged who selfishly seek their own interests …. Therefore, we reject any ideology which would legitimate forms of injustice and any doctrine which is unwilling to resist such an ideology in the name of the gospel.”

The work of reconciliation is not about making nicey nice with the oppressors, even though this is often what privilege expects. Rather to reconcile is to reject hegemonic ideologies and crucially, to reject doctrines that fail to resist injustice. If we consider, for example, neoliberalism as an ideology that legitimates economic injustice on a local and global scale, not only are we called to reject this ideology that exploits the poor to profit the rich, but we also must reject doctrines that do not resist neoliberalism.  We are called to get off the fence and stand for justice. As Abbie Hoffman put it, “If you are a bystander, you are not innocent.”

The Confession of 1967, like Belhar, seems fully aware of the work involved in reconciliation:

“The church, guided by the Spirit, humbled by its own complicity and instructed by all attainable knowledge….labors for the abolition of all racial discrimination and ministers to those injured by it. Congregations, individuals, or groups of Christians who exclude, dominate, or patronize their fellowmen [sic], however subtly, resist the Spirit of God and bring contempt on the faith which they profess.” [emphasis mine]

The Church is complicit in racism. It is one thing to know this, and an entirely different thing that it is acknowledged explicitly in our Book of Confessions. To patronize others is to bring contempt on the faith we profess. This is no hand wavy “yeah yeah we promise not to discriminate” kind of statement. This is a serious reckoning, calling white people and the Church in particular to account. And it continues:

“Enslaving poverty in a world of abundance is an intolerable violation of God’s good creation….. A church that is indifferent to poverty, or evades responsibility in economic affairs, or is open to one social class only, or expects gratitude for its beneficence makes a mockery of reconciliation and offers no acceptable worship to God.”

There is no room for the church of noblesse oblige. Reconciliation demands repentance and reflexivity, a deep awareness of power that actively resists privilege. It is not enough for the relatively rich to give money to the poor, counting wealth as God’s blessing and a cause for self-congratulatory generosity. There can be no sense of superiority in giving, and no expected proper response.

And yet so many of our churches remain stratified by class and race, like our neighborhoods and communities. I once attended a downtown church that invited homeless people to receive a meal after worship on Sundays. However, as a visitor I was prohibited from attending this meal, and was instead shown the pew where a former US President once sat, and taken to the fellowship area where juice and coffee and cookies were provided, but not to the homeless, who were on another floor entirely.

We need desperately to revisit the Confession of 1967. We need to study, adopt, and internalize Belhar. We have much to learn from the experience of churches in the global South, resisting racism in another time and place, and working for unity and reconciliation there, then, and still.

What will reconciliation look like for LGBTQ+ people in the PCUSA? Churches and individuals must do more than tolerate us, more than look the other way while some congregations and presbyteries ordain us. We must do more than allow our ministers to marry same-gender couples while still declaring heterosexual marriages normative. Reconciliation requires we resist heterosexual and cis-gender privilege wherever we may find it.  And that is yet a long way off for the PCUSA. But the Belhar Confession reminds us we can be hopeful:

that God’s lifegiving Word and Spirit has conquered the powers of sin and death, and therefore also of irreconciliation and hatred, bitterness and enmity, that God’s lifegiving Word and Spirit will enable the church to live in a new obedience which can open new possibilities of life for society and the world.

Or in the words of the Confession of 1967

“Already God’s reign is present as a ferment in the world, stirring hope in  [humankind] and preparing the world to receive its ultimate judgment and redemption.”

Amen.

 

By Donna Riley on August 15, 2014

Donna Riley

Pissed Off at God

Up until recently, I have had a fairly easy pastorate. Sure, things arose from time to time that would put my seminary education to the test, but by and large the weeks have flowed into months without major hiccups. Until recently. Within the span of a few weeks, there were six sudden deaths within my small village; a burglary at the church; the loss of a pregnancy; strained relationships within the congregation; and pastoral care needs including homelessness, domestic violence, and severe drug abuse that have challenged my skill set. And I have heard, more than a few times, of people being pissed off at God. Not just angry. Not just upset. Not just disconcerted. But pissed off.

What do we do with these emotions? I find it wholly unhealthy to respond with fear, to convince ourselves that God cannot handle the breadth and depth of human emotions. We should recall when Jesus was in the Garden of Gethsemane, the agony that he felt in having to drink from the cup set before him. The message to us should be clear: God can handle it, and with God we can handle it too. One of my favorite passages in the Bible is Psalm 88, the only lament psalm that does not have a doxology. It begins in the Pit, dwells in the Pit, and remains in the Pit.  I read it each year on the anniversary of my brother’s death, a schizophrenic who took his own life. Sometimes, we just need to stay in the Pit.

But holding onto anger, the Buddhist saying goes, is like drinking poison and expecting it to harm someone else. Our anger at God can be a bridge to faith, a vehicle we use to travel through the experience to arrive at a more holistic place. I gently say to those for whom I provide pastoral care that wild anger leads to destruction; investigated anger leads to revelation. Are we angry because we feel wronged by God? Are we dealing with grief–an experience I know all too well, having lost a loved one to suicide caused by a devastating mental illness–and feelings of despair? If so, what are our expectations? Did we want God to spare our loved one, yet allow the affliction to happen to someone else? Do we feel that we are deserving of something? If so, what are we doing in our lives to embrace the fullness of the blessings already present? When we pray, do we open ourselves to God’s response, understanding that things may not unfold in the ways that we envision, but that does that mean that God is not at work?

Sometimes being pissed off at God is our starting point. We are pissed off because God “allowed” our family members to disown us because we are gay. We are pissed off because God did not stop the painful illness and death of a loved one. We are pissed off because we work hard and stay locked in desperate circumstances while others seemingly have it so easy. They are blessed, we are cursed. We don’t deserve it, and neither do they. We start in anger, but let us not stop. Let us ask ourselves if something larger might be occurring. The family that disowns us may be replaced by a family that God fashions for us, a possibility Jesus points us toward in Mark 3:31-35.

So often, I see members of the LGBTQ community lashing out at God or their church communities by engaging in risky behavior, sleeping around without using protection or turning to drugs to ease the pain. All of which, are serious by products of their oppressed marginalized experience. That is when allies need to pay attention to the vulnerable members of our community, reaching out in love and understanding without judgment. I often see straight people upset at the LGBTQ community. This is also when allies need to pay attention, reach out in love, acknowledging the anger, and help to bridge the gap of harmful misunderstanding. For others, the painful illness of a loved one may have been the catalyst for a person to rectify fractured relationships.

It may appear that our work at a low-paying job is for naught, but our example inspires those around us to not succumb to drug or alcohol abuse, to avoid the gangs and to work hard while treating people well. To be sure, I am not advocating an acceptance of disease or low-paying jobs—God calls for us use our gifts of the Spirit to help alleviate suffering and to bring about justice—but if we surrender our anger we are able to see more clearly the ways in which God is at work. God brings people into our lives and leads us into the lives of others to fashion miracles. Sometimes we are the answer to other people’s prayers, just as they are the answer to ours.

This is not meant to offer a comprehensive answer to theodicy; it is not a systematic approach to human suffering. But as I have encountered the anger of so many people in the past weeks, I’ve come to understand that God can handle it. God expects it. I dare say that God might want it, if anger directed at God will prevent us from channeling it toward others and wreaking havoc in the midst of our despair. But God wants to lead us past the anger, into the strength and power that only faith can provide. So often, we are angry at God because we want stasis. We want security. We want assurances. We want to be shielded from the difficult things in life. As Christians, though, we can take comfort in the idea that God understands intimately the nature of our suffering. The agony of Christ is the agony of God; we follow not a distant, uncaring deity, but rather one who is inextricably connected with the human experience. Even for God, things could not remain happy and pleasant. Even for God, the suffering and pain of life was unavoidable.

 

(Featured Image, courtesy of examiner.com)

Forgotten Bodies, Missing Voices

UnknownI went and saw the film “Selma.” My emotions ran high, I was on the edge of tears for most of the film and for sometime after. My head was filled with all kinds of thoughts, both about what was said and what was not. You see, in a film about the fight for the right to vote, to express one’s voice in the voting booth, to self determine one’s destiny that which is missing is what I found most intriguing. The lacuna. History is a complicated genre. It induces questions like who is telling the story and from what perspective, what interests are driving the particular version of that history, what is at risk if a different version were told? Let me here say that I am not going to put forth a critique of Selma or those involved in its production. Selma is a poignant film and its release at this hour, during the last months of the first black president’s administration, when the votes of various demographic populations will be fought over by republicans and democrats, is more than appropriate. However, what I will ask is this: which voices, which bodies where, and remain marginalized or absent in the mythic grand narrative of the struggle for civil rights in the US?

To be honest I found “Selma” riveting. It is a beautifully crafted film about a crucial moment in the fight for civil rights in the U.S.; voting rights for blacks in the South. From the first scene the film’s director set the tone for what was to be an extremely sobering artistic recreation of that moment in history. What arrested my attention was the focus on bodies. The film is set on its course by the inclusion of a scene that depicts the bombing of a church in Birmingham that claimed the lives of four girls. From that moment for the rest of the film I was weighed down by a fog of fear, fear of the violence I knew would come, fear and sorrow for the bodies that sill needed to be broken for the story of the march from Selma to be told. But what also remained present in my mind is that, Selma Alabama in 1965 was not the only time and place where disenfranchised people marched in protest.

ChavezIn 1966 Cesar Chavez led a group of farmworkers on a march from Delano, CA to Sacramento, some 340 miles. What began as a group of around 100 swelled as more workers joined their ranks through each small farm town they passed ultimately reaching nearly 1,500 marchers. This march was a protest against unfair wages and treatment of farmworkers, many who were, and remain immigrants, documented and otherwise. The laws in California allowed for severe mistreatment, underpayment, and exploitation of bodies, even of rape that went (and continues to go) unreported for fear of retribution. These bodies, these people picked the food of the wealthy while they lived in poverty. This struggle was, like the fight in Selma, about the rights and human dignity of human beings. Of ending the imperial, colonialist, and racist mentality that has permeated the psyche of the U.S. for too long and which allowed, and even demanded, the oppression of marginalized communities so that the U.S. might remain the foremost superpower in the world. It was a matter of ensuring that all who lived and made a home in the U.S. would have equal opportunity to both self determine their destiny and have a voice that would be heard in the political landscape of their nation. This was a fight for justice.

I am not comparing Selma to Delano. Nor am I comparing the plight of two demographic populations. They are different points on the map of civil rights, implicated in different ways. Yet both are crucial moments in history and play significant roles in the larger struggle for justice. But too often we are prone to hone in on one moment of a larger narrative and are tempted to declare it the quintessential defining moment, or cause, or fight worth fighting. (How many remember and went to see last year’s film on the life of Cesar Chavez?) And while there are certainly moments that cause a louder stir than others we cannot allow ourselves to be swept away by those loud and grand moments to the neglect of so many other moments that both set the stage for events like the march in Selma and which by occurring simultaneously lend their support to the larger cause.

There is a scene (several actually) in which white politicians are pleading with Dr. King to delay the march, to not incite southern politicians, to wait for a better time when the risk of violence is not so palpable and present and the political climate is more receptive. They argue that the time is not right. Dr. King’s response is simply that they cannot wait, that the time for waiting has long past. So, I ask this question: As churches move towards greater inclusion of marginalized groups, like LBGTIQ folk, which bodies, which voices and struggles are being overlooked for the moments that are loud and grab attention easily. Perhaps more to the point, which bodies and voices are intentionally being over looked because the time in not right? Who is being asked to wait until the climate in churches is more receptive? Perhaps it is for those bodies that we must now stand and march.

By:  Jared Vázquez, Ph.D. Student at the University of Denver-Iliff School of Theology.  Jared is a theologian and philosopher who works to address existing disparities in theology and ethics that eclipses queer bodies and Latin@ bodies.

Selma is a Reminder of our Struggle for Justice!

I sit here, before dawn on MLK Day, remembering and reflecting upon the film Selma I saw this past weekend with dear colleagues committed to the struggle. I recommend that everyone go see this film in theaters to communicate our support for such critical films being part of our social consciousness. The film is real and raw, and critical for us to see to remember our shared history.

We must remember that white America saw Martin Luther King, Jr.’s work as a “nuisance.” We must remember a president and a white power structure that kept asking MLK and the movement to “wait.” We must remember the movement said “no, now is our time.” It is a tool of the oppressor to ask those who do not have justice to wait until a more politically expedient or appropriate time. Those with power can wait for others to have it. We must also remember that the white power structure only took action when it could look good for them. The white power structure did not do it out of the goodness of their hearts, but instead because the press and public relations firestorm became too great.

I want to remember this because as a white woman I am continuously struck by the way we celebrate a pristine white-washed version of MLK and his work. MLK now has a monument in our nation’s capital, as he well deserves. We want to tell ourselves we were “good people” back then and we are “good people” now who celebrate him. But, if most of us were back there in the Civil Rights Movement, we might understand pieces of MLK’s work, but I’m certain we would be resisting it as “problematic” or pick it apart academically. We likely would not be the small segment of white people who took a bus down to Selma and walked across a bridge knowing that armed police stood at the other end.

I hope that we can remember MLK’s words that were discomforting for the white population, and I encourage us to look at where we find our discomfort today. I, as a minister in The United Methodist Church, am committed to working for and preaching on racial justice in all the spheres of which I am a part. Those with privilege sometimes tell me that church is supposed to be “comfortable” for them and that church is “their place” and by talking about racial justice I am taking away that space for them. The same happens when I talk about women’s rights, when I talk about LGBTQ justice, when I ask where the bathroom is for trans people. I hope that we will reflect this day and ask ourselves what is making us uncomfortable. Maybe that’s precisely where God is calling us to go. I hope we can move forward together remembering that we likely will trip and stumble as we work for justice, but the greatest sin is not moving at all.

written by Rev. Laura Rossbert, a United Methodist deacon and strong advocate for eradicating interlocking oppressions.