Oh, UMC. A Lament.

Last weekend I had the honor of serving as celebrant for the wedding of two recently graduated alumni.  I’ve known both the bride and groom for their entire undergraduate careers, and their wedding brought three reception tables’s worth of Wesley students and alumni to town.  After they were married at the church, we spent a gorgeous early summer evening, sun descending, shadows gathering, on a luscious winery estate lawn, sipping drinks and enjoying the company and the occasion.

Late into the evening, as shadows gave way to stars, and it couldn’t get any more delicious, Meredith* said, “Can I ask you a question?”

I was sitting next to my husband, flanked on one side by an alumna from last year and on the other side by Meredith, who just graduated in May and who will be coming back to grad school in a year.  It so happens both of these alumnae are gay.

Wesley students visiting the Center for Civil and Human Rights, Atlanta, GA.

Wesley students visiting the Center for Civil and Human Rights, Atlanta, GA.

Meredith said, “I know you can’t do a wedding for me and, obviously, it’s a ways off because I don’t have anyone in mind, but at this point, I don’t have another minister.  You know me best and you’re still my minister.  Even if you couldn’t be the one to marry me, would you do my pre-marital counseling?”

I have known Meredith her entire undergraduate career and, before that, her sister.  I am booked to be the officiant for her sister’s wedding next year (to yet another Wesley alumnus) and was about to meet with that couple for their first pre-marital meeting this week, which is partly why Meredith was asking.

She told me she’d spent two hours on the phone with her sister earlier in the week, talking about how excited she was to start planning for her wedding and marriage.  Meredith, who grew up in the church just like her sister, and who did the hard work of making space for a faith community during college (just like her sister), and who is determined to keep growing in her discipleship into her adult years and her future relationships, including marriage (just like her sister) – this beautiful young beloved child of God did not even ask me, her pastor, if I’d do her one-day wedding.  Even her question was trimmed down to size for compliance with our current UMC Discipline.  All she asked me is if, even though it may not be possible for me to be the celebrant at her wedding one day, could she please spend time with me preparing for it?  Meredith, whose discipleship and faith community has been as similar as possible to her own sister’s for their whole lives, and who learned well the Church’s own teaching about the importance of having a pastoral spiritual guide and a gathered community of faith for life’s passages, didn’t even ask me for what she really wants and needs.  And deserves.

It sickens me to say she learned those other lessons our Church is teaching, too – that not all of what we do and say is meant for her.  I feel sick to my stomach and teary just writing this.

Imagine how difficult it was for me on that beautiful night, in the midst of our beloved gathered community, to hear Meredith ask for such a small crumb from the children’s table (Matthew 15: 21-28; Mark 7: 24-30).

Now imagine how hard it was for her.

She made it easier on me than she should have.  Both she and the other alumna were kind and generous in the conversation we had, but that moment dampened the evening for me – not that she brought it up, but that she had to at all.

There is no amount of forethought and hypothesis that can predict what you’ll actually do, given the right situation.  Though this is still where I stand, I don’t know how long I’ll be able to keep standing here.

Oh, UMC, don’t make me do this!  Don’t make me choose you over God’s own children.  Don’t make me choose the Gospel over you.

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*Meredith gave me permission to use her name and to write about this, and said, “I hope the UMC can get it together by the time I want to get married.”  Me, too.

Where I Stand

A friend asked me recently, commenting on the news of United Methodist clergy celebrating weddings for same-sex couples, “Where do you stand?”  Specifically, she wanted to know what I would do if a same-sex couple came to me to celebrate their wedding.

It’s not a short answer.

Our church’s fights over sexuality are part of why it took me so long to be ordained.  If I’m honest, I was hearing God at least as far back as college but was still resisting the call even during seminary.  Besides a Jonah-like stubborn streak, the sexuality wars were part of my resistance.  Some of the people who inspired me most in ministry, who gave me a vision for what it could be like to serve in the church, are gay.  I watched as they switched gears into other careers and callings.  I went to seminary with some who would be much stronger clergy then I am, but who don’t have that option available, based on their God-given sexuality. 

logo for the Reconciling Ministries Network

For too long I thought accepting God’s call to ordained ministry meant accepting everything the United Methodist Church currently states in its Book of Discipline.  (Here’s the section called The Social Principles, where our positions on most cultural issues are found.  We currently do not ordain “self-avowed practicing homosexuals” nor are clergy permitted to officiate or churches permitted to host same-sex ceremonies.)  I knew I couldn’t do that with integrity and it held me back.  I didn’t exactly have to spend time in the belly of a whale, but through years of wrestling and running I came to understand it differently.  I realized I need to be able to articulate the church’s current positions but complete agreement on non-doctrinal matters was not part of the call.

During the Jonah years, during the long-awaited ordination process, and during my ministry I have not been quiet about my disagreement.  In my preaching, teaching, conversation, writing, witness and pastoral care, I have not been quiet.  But let me be crystal clear:  love is love; I fully support LGBTQ people, marriage equality, and ordination regardless of sexuality.  I think our church is wrong on this and I’m inspired by the rumblings and protests and what feels like more and more energy in the right direction.  I am rooting for change and I am trying to help enact it.

Last spring I signed An Altar for All.  I really wanted to sign the first option, that I would officiate at same-sex weddings.  After thought, prayer, and a long conversation with my husband, I signed the second option, which is “clergyperson supportive of others officiating same-sex ceremonies.” 

Of course I wanted to sign option one.  Of course I want to be able to say yes when students, alumni, and friends come to me asking to be married.  I want all of them to know they can come and I can say yes.

We’re not there yet.

The problem with taking a long time to answer God’s call to ordained ministry is I had plenty of time to get really clear on what I was answering.  The call is from God and my deepest allegiance is there, which is why I understand and support clergy who feel called to act in defiance of our current Book of Discipline (a document that is by its nature changeable, edited every four years at General Conference).  But for reasons I still don’t fully understand, God called me to ministry in the United Methodist Church and I believe God is still calling me to ministry in this church. 

When my husband and I discussed this and the dynamics of institutional change, he said, “Not everyone can be the point of the spear.”  Some are called to this.  Some are called to work more incrementally, from within the system as it currently exists.  I would love to be the point of the spear.  My ego wants that.  But being a Christian means God’s call takes precedence over the way I would write the story. 

I still hear God calling me to ordained ministry in the United Methodist Church.  And I believe God is working in the church and transforming individuals and the institution.  I hope the work goes quickly and I am trying to be part of that work – because I believe the church is better with me in it.  That’s not always a comfortable or ego-pleasing place to be, but it’s the place I feel called to be.

I don’t know what will happen in our church.  We seem to be gaining momentum, at least in the United States.  I don’t know if we’ll be tempted to split or if we’ll give in to that temptation.  Maybe, if we do, it won’t be temptation but yet another call.  I can’t tell from here.

All I can tell you is that, for now, I would have to say no to officiating at a same-sex ceremony.  Even as my heart would want to scream yes and even as I continue to work for change in the institution.  Even as it breaks my heart that we’re still here and still stuck.  Even as I would be unable to serve as a juror in a clergy trial because I’d never find someone “guilty” of officiating a same-sex wedding.  Even as it would be both a huge victory and a huge embarrassment to have the Commonwealth of Virginia “beat us to it.” 

But the end of the story is never where we think it is with God.  We worship a wily and confounding God who is surely stirring hearts and minds as She blows through this institution, messing with our ideas, allegiances, sacred cows, and callings.  So I keep attentive, keep listening, keep hopeful.  And I keep working for change, for justice.

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Photo credit:  Reconciling Ministries Network

Fence-sitting and Pastoral Boundaries

Our church is fighting in public.  Again.  This month – this week in particular – it’s a church trial in Pennsylvania.  Rev. Frank Schaefer is on trial for officiating at the wedding of his son, who is gay.  public domain image_black and white picture of throngs of Dartmouth students sitting on a fence

Currently our United Methodist Book of Discipline, in a feat of fence-sitting “balance,” considers every human regardless of sexuality to be an individual of “sacred worth” but maintains that homosexuality is “incompatible with Christian teaching.”  We do not allow people to be clergy if they are “self-avowed practicing homosexuals” but we hold fast to (most) civil rights for LGBT people and unequivocally condemn violence against them . Our churches are not permitted to host weddings for same-sex couples, neither are our pastors permitted to officiate at these weddings. 

It’s an uncomfortable fence and we have been straddling it for a while.

The basic details in the Schaefer trial are this:  His son asked him to officiate at his wedding and Schaefer agreed.  The pastor told his district superintendent but not his congregation.  Life and ministry went on.  Over 5 years later – in the month when the statute of limitations would have expired for this “offense” – a member of Schaefer’s church filed a complaint.  The member, Jon Boger, was by this point living in another state and not involved in any church congregation but his membership was still on record at Schaefer’s church.  Boger’s mother worked at the church and had recently been fired.

Many have noticed the unusual timing of Boger’s complaint (many years after the wedding but just in time to cause trouble) and his own anger and presumed retaliation over his mother’s job loss.  It certainly explains a lot. 

Unfortunately, it doesn’t explain why we went ahead with a trial clearly forged out of anger and vengeance but that just happened to have an actual complaint wrapped up in the middle.  If the Council of Bishops has “discretion as the chief pastors of the church over the manner, purpose, and conduct of any supervisory response and just resolution under ‘fair process’” then they have missed a golden opportunity to exercise that discretion – especially given the retaliatory nature of the so-called complaint.  To make it even plainer:  If Boger had expressed his true complaint (i.e.,” You fired my mom!”) and this wouldn’t have gone to trial, why did it proceed?  A genuinely contentious and heartbreaking issue has been hijacked to serve another purpose and the Council sat by while it played out.

Something else bothering me throughout conversations about this trial is the well-meaning but theologically insubstantial point that Schaefer did this wedding for his own son.  This line of reasoning seems to posit that since it was a family matter, charges, punishments, and what’s at state theologically and pastorally are different.  Indeed, Schaefer may be speaking in a mixed way about both his duty as a father and his duty as a pastor – and who could blame him?

But for those of us observing and praying and talking about this from a few steps back, I find it dangerous to talk about pastoral-priestly actions clergy take within their own families as somehow separate from their vocation and ordination “to the rest of us.”  I am a pastor all the time but it is dangerous to think of myself as a pastor to my husband, for example.  That is not my role in that relationship.  This doesn’t mean we never officiate at funerals or weddings or baptisms within our own families, but it does require greater clarity on the part of the pastor as to her motivations and role in those moments. 

In the terms I hear Jesus using (“Woman here is your son”; “Who is my mother, and who are my brothers?”), he more often points us outside of our intimate and familial circles to those unrelated by blood, even those we don’t yet know or like or understand.  In theological terms, “he was doing it for his own son” seems to hold less water than “he did it for a church member” or “he did it for a person from the neighborhood who he didn’t know previously.” 

I say this not to diminish Schaefer’s actions but to ask all of us to consider the terrain more closely.  The argument that the church should go easy on him because he “just” did this for his son is a weak argument and not theologically sound.  The body of Christ forms us into a new family, creating brothers and sisters where before there were strangers.  The body of Christ does not call us to close ranks and minister to those closest to us but rather to extend the good news of Christ’s gospel to people and places where we are uncomfortable, challenged, or even afraid to go.

It seems clear to me Schaefer was acting both as a loving father and a minister of the gospel when he agreed to officiate at his son’s wedding.  He has said, “I did not want to make this a protest about the doctrine of the church. I wasn’t trying to be an advocate.  I just wanted this to be a beautiful family affair, and it was that.”  His ongoing concern for where his congregation is on these issues, even as he sought to minister to his son and respond to the call of the gospel, strikes me as pastoral (not cowardly or culpable as Boger and others might imply).  Schaefer has also said, “I love the United Methodist Church. I’ve been a minister for almost 20 years and there are so many good things about the United Methodist Church except for that one rule.” 

I support what Schaefer did, along with the actions of Bishops Swenson and Talbert and the group effort of solidarity earlier this month elsewhere in Pennsylvania.  I want our church to get off the fence and I want us to match our actions and our Discipline to the radically inclusive and norm-breaking love of Christ.  Of course, I want us to get off the fence in one particular direction:  full inclusion of all people in the full life of the church. 

I have no idea if this will happen or when.  But I write about it and I pray for it.  And I pray we United Methodists will remember both Jesus and John Wesley, who said, “As to all opinions which do not strike at the root of Christianity, we think and let think.”  The sexuality issues we are fighting about are not at the root of Christianity.  But to refuse full inclusion in the body of Christ to our brothers and sisters chops right into the root and threatens to sever it.  It’s a refusal to see Jesus for who he is (Matthew 25: 31-46).

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photo credit:  public domain