Cincinnati,
OH May 26, 2002
(Even After the Defeat of Amendment A)
Text: Luke 4:16-30
Before I begin, my thoughts
go back to last year’s conference at Austin where I was asked to speak but a
couple of surgeries prevented it. I did
send along my sermon, and Michael Adee delivered most of it for me. But I am not sure he said what I had written
about him — that I know of no pastor who has more pastoral gifts than does
Michael, but, because he is open and unrepentant about his sexuality, the Presbyterian
Church has left him and his incredible gifts of ministry in the ditch and
passed him by. But, thank God, not the
Board of the More Life Presbyterians who have called him into ministry. The same thankfulness must be said for
Katie Morrison. Let us acknowledge our
gratitude for their gracious ministries.
This morning I want to do
two things. To reflect on various moods
after the defeat of Amendment A — and that was a tragic and significant setback
– and describe three personal adventures of faith.
Don Crail, Director of The
Lazarus Project in Los Angeles, a Presbyterian ministry of reconciliation
between the Church and GLBT persons (and he is present this morning), describes
his mood well in an article shortly after Amendment A’s defeat:
“As it now stands, obedience
to the Book of Order would require for many Presbyterians the forfeiture of
conscience on an essential issue to their life as Christian persons. If the statement that ‘God alone is Lord of
conscience’ applies only if one’s conscience coincides with the current majority
in the denomination on this, then at least we have a situation where our
options are clear. Either we can leave the Presbyterian Church…or else we can act in obedience to our conscience and convictions
though that may expose us, and our congregations, to judicial action and
punishment.”
Don is a great guy, unpretentious, and, like most of us, seeks no martyrdom, only to continue our calling to work out in this world Jesus’ prayer, “Thy reign come, O God, on earth as it is in Heaven.”
Don, I know, like most of
us, does not like to be in the place of saying its “either-or” time. We are “both-and” people, seeking a
“win-win” course, and are in it for the long haul. But after 24 years of seeking the equality of all members in the
Presbyterian Church, we are surely wondering if it is not just that – either
we live our consciences before God or
bow down to the will of the majority in the Presbyterian Church.
I share his “either-or”
question with you knowing that I am not one of the present victims of abuse in
the Presbyterian Church, and neither is Don.
Indeed, we both are members of the straight privileged class in our
church. But all of us serve the same
God who, from the foundation of the world, decided justice is indivisible. And while it is essential that we heed the
voice of the victims, and be instructed by the steps they would take in seeking
the resolution of their mistreatment in the Presbyterian Church, we all are in
this matter together — for in Christ, there is neither straight nor gay.
But this Joshua moment,
forcing the question, “Choose this day whom you will serve,” again came home to
me when I got a call from a member of Mt. Auburn Church in Cincinnati from one
of the victims, after he was present in the debate this past week when the
Presbytery of Cincinnati formed another Administrative Commission to decide the
fate of that church. Mt. Auburn has
openly declared since 1991 that it would not abide by any policy in the
Presbyterian Church that would in any way demean homosexual persons or prevent
them from enjoying God’s good gifts of love, joy, and intimacy. Mt. Auburn’s
invitation was for GLBT persons to celebrate these gifts openly in that
congregation and, if called, as ordained leadership in the church. No second-class membership for those in that
church.
The Presbytery knows from an
earlier administrative commission that Mt. Auburn will not compromise on
this. But that Presbytery, under the
pressure of other churches who believe that the defeat of Amendment A has finally
settled the matter regarding homosexuality, decided for a new commission
because, as the approved motion stated, Mt. Auburn threatens “the peace, purity, and unity of the
Presbytery of Cincinnati” – so they say.
I don’t how the matter will
be resolved, but Mt. Auburn will not be moved, and both its Session and its
Congregation have unanimously said so.
But the caller, a gay man, said, “Hal, I left that Presbytery meeting depressed, for I again realized I was being rejected by my own church. I left the Roman Catholic Church for the same reasons, relieved to join Mt. Auburn as a welcoming place, but how can I now support and continue as a member of the Presbyterian Church? Things said in the debate were terribly hurtful. Oh, I can support Mt. Auburn as long as it holds fast, but I don’t want to financially support the denomination, and I am even now questioning my financial support of the other More Light Churches.” His last concern stung me.
Oh, I gave him some counsel
about how we are still part of a representative system that protects the rights
of the minority, and how we must not let a temporary defeat put out the light
of our understanding of the good news of Jesus Christ and the progress we have
surely made. I reminded him of the
courageous faithful and risky witness of so many in the More Light Movement –
and believe me you have been just that — but the despair was overwhelming in
his heart and understandably so.
But, I too, am in this either-or mood of Joshua. After over forty years in the ministry, of
the several disciplinary cases now going forward in our church, there is one
against me simply because I conduct marriage services of same-sex couples
believing holy-union services are, in fact, half-way measures, a kind of
separate but unequal service. I say
this even though I worked for them and I was grateful our denomination twice
ruled in favor of them. Even so, my
accuser writes in his complaint that I have renounced “the jurisdiction of the
Presbyterian Church,” and for my Presbytery not to find that this is so would
be “an egregious abandonment of” its duty.
Steve Van Kuiken, Mt.
Auburn’s very capable and present pastor, has had a disciplinary complaint
filed against him, and his position is on the line.
But with these thoughts in
mind, let me describe three personal adventures of faith. And first, let me share a part of my own.
My spiritual journey outside
of my loving family began early.
Without prompting, I was baptized at age eight because I simply liked
Jesus, and I joined the nearby Russian Baptist Church. In the 11th grade I joined the rather
imposing Presbyterian Church across from Michigan's capital — but, I confess, a
lot had to do with their church’s basketball team.
But by then I was even more
convinced that my most significant hero, divine witness, friend, prophet,
ethical model, call him what you may, was the man, Jesus of Nazareth. "Fairest Lord Jesus,” indeed, was a
song in my heart. But even so, at that
stage in my life, he did not give me much clarity to help me resolve my own
vocational adventure in life.
I
began college at Michigan State but it did not appear to me as significant or a
real adventure—simply something one did next.
It was 20 minutes away, inexpensive, and I could stay home. Undirected in my studies, too often in the
pool hall at the Student Union rather than the library, I left during my third
year and rather carelessly decided to volunteer for the draft. The Korean War was winding down, so even this
was not a compelling adventure. I just
knew I needed to leave home and, besides, I would get the G.I. Bill to help pay
for the rest of my education — if that ever was to be.
But I
was more rewarded for this decision than I knew. All during the 16 weeks of basic infantry training I carried around
a pocket-size New Testament which a chaplain had given me. During every break in the training, wherever
I was, I took it out and read it. I
memorized most of Jesus' Sermon on the Mount.
What jumped out at me were the words that Martin Luther King and Gandhi
too found inspiring. And what made them
so vivid was the contrast of Jesus' teaching with what I was being taught and
trained to do as a soldier.
Nevertheless, I carried on
like a leaf in a stream, until I broke my leg in a parachute jump, an accident
I have always thanked God for. So to
make a long story shorter, this literal break in my military life led me from
my assignment in the General's office to the Chaplain's office and I began to
work as a chaplain's assistant in the several chapels on the base.
This gave me time to
reflect, and I finally came to a decision, one that was a little surprising to
my family, friends, and even myself.
What appeared to me as the best adventure around, I thought, and that
was what I wanted — adventure — was the Christian ministry, and the most
promising of bodies around to work in was the Presbyterian Church.
Compared to others, I liked
its more liberal spirit, educational demands, social justice efforts, how well
it stood up to the red-baiting of Senator Joseph McCarthy and, finally, that
its government was representatively democratic which would allow one’s
conscience to be more open to the Holy Spirit.
And so I enlisted. Jesus and I,
I thought, were on a roll.
And an adventure it
was. The Presbyterian Church still had
many leaders, I thought, who were not only intelligent but gave a prophetic
witness to working on earth what they clearly thought were Heavenly
values. I remember the strong stand of
our denomination’s then Stated Clerk, Eugene Carson Blake, who was arrested,
the first such national church leader to be so, for bringing into a public
swimming pool in Maryland a group of African-American children. We were so touched by his civil rights action
that we named our fourth child after him.
Blake’s courage was a reminder that faith must speak to the powers that
be or it is not faith at all.
But many positive,
meaningful experiences came along. One,
of so many I could mention, came from the first church I served in Los
Angeles. It was a large church with two
of us as pastors. It was an all-white
congregation, which was due, as I would soon realize, to the local realtors who
were keeping our community that way.
Later we would confront and overcome these apartheid practices. The best
button I wore then was, “Would you let your daughter marry a realtor?”
But it was there that an
unforgettable event happened at the early, first worship service. Just as we were gathering, a tall black
woman, the first ever, came in and sat down in the second pew of that all-white
congregation.
I immediately looked over to
the other pastor and I knew he felt as anxious as I did, for no one ever sat
that far forward at the early service.
It meant that during the whole hour this woman would have all the others
behind her and seated several rows back.
We gave the call to worship
and then the invocation, but our hearts were heavy. And then an incredible kind of miracle happened. Upon the Amen I anxiously looked up, and,
with astonishment, watched as two couples in the back came forward and moved
into the very same pew on both sides of the woman.
Many prayers were offered
and answered in that moment, and I have always been moved by it, as was the
congregation, for it went on to be a more joyous inclusive body. It was also an early lesson for me. Never sell the congregation short. Always share your own struggles with them. And together work with them on the adventure
that faith always is. Most are
ready. From this first congregation I
learned much about inclusion.
I recall something else
about Eugene Carson Blake. He was a
strong leader but also shared in his own struggle. He wrote, “In my youth I had a number of doubts about Christianity. There were questions about the virgin birth
and the bodily resurrection. There were
questions about life after death and what happened to those who did not
believe. There were questions about
free will and predestination. But there
was no question in my mind about the goodness of Jesus Christ. There was no question but that the Christian
message was good news.”
I
went on for four decades in this pastoral adventure. I, too, had my own questions and failings as a minister, as did
Blake, as do we all, but not about the Good News. Of course, I kept changing in my theological awareness. How necessary that is because theology is
about God, and because it is, it must always be open-ended. I realized that we each have a glimpse of
God’s goodness but none of us has the whole of it.
Realizing the truth of the
hymn, “God’s Spirit floweth free, high surging where it will,” my venture moved
me out of Neo-Orthodoxy, but with thankfulness to the Neibuhr brothers, out of
Existentialism, but with gratitude for Paul Tillich, and onto Process Theology,
with gratefulness for John Cobb and Alfred North Whitehead.
I was never sure, in detail,
about what it was to preach reform theology but I knew what “Ecclesia
reformata, semper reformanda” meant to me — the church reformed, always being
reformed, under the unbounded love of God revealed so fully in the life and
ministry of Jesus.
Jesus’ vision of the Kingdom
of God for this earth was my compelling vision and still is. I changed, but the Good News only became
more vivid – as it is today.
Wonderfully, we have a very
telling story, which is embodied in the text of this conference, of Jesus' own
home-leaving and home-coming. Jesus,
you remember, had left Mary, perhaps Joseph had already died, leaving also his
four brothers and at least two sisters behind, and gone off to find
himself. At first he went off into the
wilderness to struggle alone with God and the powers of evil and then went back
on the streets, from town to town, to meet God more fully in the world.
His family had actually
thought he was out of his mind and tried to persuade him otherwise. But now, as our text records, he does return
home to Nazareth. And we read, "He
went to the synagogue, as his custom was, on the Sabbath day." That’s an important line of scripture. Go to church!
But we read next, since
Jesus was asked to be a liturgist and to read the scriptures, he chooses his
own text. What will he choose? Obviously, now early in his ministry, and
also because he was in his hometown, he wanted to make clear to his neighbors
what had compelled him to leave home and why he had taken on this new adventure
of faith. Oh, he knows that they will
have some doubts about him. They knew
he was just a carpenter, just a peasant like most of them, just one of
neighbors, and besides he hadn't gone to seminary and no authority had ordained
him.
And sure enough, after he
reads and comments on the text, they will not enjoy the brief sermon he gives.
Indeed, they will be filled with wrath, murmuring to themselves, “Just who in
the Hell does Jesus think he is?"
But, again, before this
occurs, Jesus wants to lay out before them the divine manifesto he was willing
to serve. So, he reaches for Book of
Isaiah and, momentarily finding the place, he reads:
“The
Spirit of the Lord is upon me,
because God has anointed me to preach good
news to the poor.
God has sent me to proclaim release to the captives
and recovery of sight to the blind,
to set at liberty those who are oppressed,
to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor…”
And he abruptly stops in the
middle of the last sentence, then sat down, but then adds from his pew,
"Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing." Which clearly means to Jesus “This is what I
choose to be about; this is what I will serve.
This is the adventure that is compelling for me.”
Of course, this text from the Prophet Isaiah was well known to an oppressed people, and it describes the full fortune that will come to the faithful people of Israel. It was good news to them, for they felt hopelessly in bondage as a people.
But notice that Jesus, in
his selective use of Scripture, doesn't quote all of the passage. In fact after reading, “To proclaim the year
of the Lord's favor,” he stops in the middle of that last sentence and does not
read the rest, which is, "and the
day of vengeance of our God."
Oh, if you read on in
Isaiah, beyond this chapter, besides the wrath that is predicted here on
Israel’s enemies, you will read that Israel was also to have the wealth of the
nations given to them. The complete
and literal message was one of vengeance and special reward. One that would comfort the victims with
victory but also reinforces retribution.
Those listening would relish
the thought not only of God’s intervention, but that those creeps who have
burdened us will now be under our thumb.
(From an appreciated commentary, source forgotten.)
But Jesus would have none of
that. Jesus was compelled by a greater
adventure than that useless passion of vengeance or to hope for the wrath of
God. Enabling the oppressed now to
become the oppressors was not God's compassionate justice. “Do the others in before they do you in”
wasn't one of Jesus’ beatitudes.
Of course, Jesus didn't
believe everything in the scriptures, that it was totally inspired by grace, or
is the inerrant word of God, so he wasn't about to affirm passages in the
scriptures that he felt did not reflect the true character of God. Nor should we. It is interesting that one of the great themes in the Bible is to
expose idolatry – serving something in life less than God – and then to sadly
realize that is just what we have done with the Bible itself.
And, of course, the crowd
doesn't like this, or the rest of what he went on to say, about how God is
benevolently present in other nations, not just Israel. Sadly, we are still debating if God only
works through Christians. His
commentary made the congregation angry the same way it would make some angry in
Israel today if someone announced Jerusalem should be the equally shared
capital for Christians, Jews, and Islamic believers.
And so enraged, the members
of his home congregation drove him to the edge of the town and were about to
throw him off a cliff but he escaped…for the moment.
Of course, Jesus was concerned
for the oppressed, the disenfranchised, those in darkness, those in slavery and
economic bondage and to bring relief to the poor.
He was totally opposed to
those who were unjust, who would misuse others, especially in the name of
God. He would work for social justice
and empower the people to become somebodies and not hopeless victims, to help
them realize that they were all equally children of God, who indeed have God's
favor and a rightful place around the banquet table of life, enabling them to
become sons and daughters of God who would overcome evil with good – not with
vengeance or as agents of a wrathful God.
Recently, still seeking more
light, I read the Autobiography of John Dominic Crossan. Crossan is a former Irish Priest who has
become one of the most prominent scholars of today’s quest of the historical
Jesus, and I read all of his books. In
his biography, he tells of his own decision to leave home and join the monastic
life. What he wanted was adventure, and joining the contemplative life of a
monk in one of the foreign missionary groups in the Catholic Church appeared
his best chance at it. This, he
thought, would also help him see the world — kind of like joining the Navy.
So he became a monk, he
said, because he thought "God clearly had the best game in
town." And, he adds, it still is
50 years later, even though he no longer is a priest but a scholar and is
married, which, itself, proved a remarkable adventure.
I don't know of anyone who
has more thoughtfully and carefully studied the life of Jesus, seeking to
discern what Jesus’ original message was, than Crossan. And his studies have made many of us even
more excited about this man of Galilee, this Mediterranean Sage, as he calls
Jesus, the one who most clearly, courageously, and revolutionarily served God's
justice and compassion in this world.
The vision that Jesus had of
God's reign for this earth is clearly for Crossan, and I hope for all of us
gathered here, the best game in town, the best adventure around.
Crossan is one of the
founders of the group called The Jesus Seminar.
I have made my own condensed compilation of their
findings regarding this man of Galilee:
1.
Jesus'
primary ministry was confronting injustice.
He bent or broke or opposed any law that was unfair or was not equitable
to all.
2.
He
sought to enable the liberation of all who were oppressed, sharing God’s grace
with them, and extending that grace impartially to all human beings.
3.
He
imitated God's compassion in his everyday behavior, even with those persons
with whom he disagreed or disliked.
4.
He
sought to awaken all to God's direct and immediate accessibility. No special mediator needed. He didn't
believe he was God's favorite or that he was the only child of God.
5.
He
shared with all at the table of life.
He kept an open table, breaking bread with all those who would, not just
with those who proclaimed themselves as authentic believers. No one ever set a better table or was a more
gracious host.
6.
He
broke down every barrier raised to keep certain persons outside of God's realm.
These six behaviors of Jesus, I believe, are why we are gathered here today. And these are essential behaviors that must be found in the Presbyterian Church (USA).
I know we each must speak
and act for ourselves. As a society of
the friends of Jesus, we are all in similar but different situations. We in this movement, of all people,
believe in diversity, inclusion, and openness.
We seek to bind no one’s conscience or convictions as we, together, seek
to make our witness effective. And even
though we may be on a different stage of our same journey, we surely must
support one another, as we are able.
Surely many of these essentials are found in the Presbyterian Church. But clearly, our table is not completely open nor have we broken down every barrier raised to keep certain persons outside of God's realm.
We read in our constitution that “The congregation shall welcome all persons who respond in trust and obedience to God’s grace in Jesus Christ and desire to become part of the membership and ministry of his Church. No persons shall be denied membership because of race, ethnic origin, worldly condition, or any other reason not related to profession of faith.” (G-5.0103.)
All are welcome except GLBT persons. Our teaching is they really are not God’s intention for humanity. That they are unfit to part of God’s family!
That is our scandal today, for it constitutes a rejection of Christ himself.
So I conclude, and say with
so many others, it is way past time, Presbyterian Church, that we repent. We have become an embarrassment to the name
we bear, to the one who called us to minister with him to incarnate the Reign
of God on earth as it is in Heaven.
We are not the servants of
the Church, but of God and God's justice and compassion, which is inextricably
one fabric called love. So thought
Jesus. So thought we when we heeded his
call.
We are to love our neighbor
and it ought to be clear by now that we have not loved our non-heterosexual
neighbors. We have not. And there is nothing different about them
being a neighbor than those who are heterosexual. Nothing! They are we. And we are they. No biblical interpretation can change it otherwise – only
authenticate it.
It has been the most absurd
intellectual judgement of our church to categorically state that all homosexual
behavior is intrinsically sinful, no matter how loving, just, or Christ-like it
is. On this score it is good to remember what Martin Luther King said. “Never
should Christians fail to realize they have a moral responsibility not to be
stupid.”
Our policy is just that –
stupid! It is a tragedy, yes, and it is
stupid!
We simply can no longer abet
the culture of evil against them. And,
let us be clear, the Presbyterian Church is a part of that worldly
culture. We need no middle ground on
this. It is an absolute
imperative. There can be no compromise. No hiding behind "We love these persons
but hate their sin," or now must cave in because of the defeat of
Amendment A.
I don’t know how you are
going to work this out – but please don’t walk out. I do know we will prevail if we walk side by side with Jesus, or
at least walk in his footsteps.
This is still the greatest
adventure around and I thank you that I can be a part of it with you.
Harold Gordon Porter