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April 18, 1997
Episcopal News Service
Jim Solheim, Director
212-922-5385
ens@ecunet.org

97-1741
Pasadena conference presses church to accept and bless gay relationships 

by James Solheim
       (ENS) When Andrew Sullivan asserted that marriage is the single
most important justice issue facing the gay community, many of the 350
people in the ballroom of the Pasadena Hilton nodded their heads in
agreement. "The truth is that we are not seeking the right to marry--we
have it, but it's being denied," he asserted.
       Sullivan, senior editor of The New Republic magazine, was the
keynoter among a dozen speakers at a conference sponsored by All Saints
Church in Pasadena on the theme, "Beyond Inclusion--celebrating gay
and lesbian commitments and ministries in the Episcopal Church."
       For three days participants listened to a string of theological
presentations and responses and questions, joined in Eucharist, saw the
premiere of a play based roughly on the heresy trial of Bishop Walter
Righter, and met in small groups to lay a strategy on the local, regional
and national level for full acceptance of gay and lesbian relationships.
       "We are living through a sea change... the acceptance of gays and
lesbians is happening everywhere," said Righter in his sermon at the
opening Eucharist April 11. "Don't underestimate this church," he urged,
because "there is a quiet revolution going on in many places about
inclusion."

A quiet revolution
       As the rector of All Saints, Ed Bacon, Jr., said in his welcome,
the purpose of the conference was "to bear witness that homosexuality is
a gift from God, to the church and to the world and that the inclusive
love and justice of God demands that we open sacramental ministry to
all."
       At a press conference with Righter, Bacon announced plans for a
booth at the upcoming General Convention where participants could meet
and talk with couples whose relationships have been blessed by the
church "so that the church can see that this love is real."
       Righter expressed a worry that the "quiet revolution" of openness
would "lose energy and momentum" but added that he is still convinced
that the attempt to put him on trial for ordaining a non-celibate
homosexual "has outed the whole Episcopal Church."

Calling out and coming out
       "We have been meeting the Good News as we discover that God
speaks to gay men and lesbians as powerfully as to heterosexuals," said
Prof. William Countryman of Church Divinity School of the Pacific in
one of five papers presented at the conference. He explored the theme of
"calling out and coming out," how God calls us "to leave a familiar
environment, to move towards a new world." 
       Calling the closet "spiritually dangerous," Countryman said that
God calls us to be honest about our lives because the "habit of
concealment will turn into the habit of hypocrisy, the willful blinding to
truth." When that concealment "becomes a way of life, it becomes a way
of death" and results in "letting go the dream of being like everyone
else."
       "Gay people are not offered the opportunity to celebrate their
sexual identity," said Prof. Patricia Jung of Chicago's Loyola University,
because "heterosexism denies gay people the right to safe haven, other
than the closet." Since most heterosexuals claim that theirs is "the only
norm, the only orientation," they conclude that homosexuality is evil and
that "gay people are a threat to society." It won't be possible to
dismantle this heterosexism until "we challenge the sexual ethic at its
core," she said. And the first step is to correct misinformation about the
lives of gay people and work for complete civil rights.

A cruel irony
       Andrew Sullivan couldn't agree more. In an interview he pointed
out that "the civil rights movement disrupted a way of life that was
working--but it wasn't equality." He is worried that "the movement will
be compromised, bought off." The role of the church is to fill what he
called "a huge gulf in ethical/moral teaching" and join in the dialogue on
civil rights because "no civil rights movement has succeeded without the
churches. Until we have won over the church, it will be difficult to win
over the country."
       "The right to marry is an even deeper legal right than the right to
vote," Sullivan argued. "It is clearly inalienable, granted absolutely to
everyone, and the government cannot infringe in any way because it is so
intrinsic to our concept of the pursuit of happiness." The exclusion of
gay people is "a sign of the depth of disenfranchisement" and yet "gay
people have internalized so deeply their sense of inferiority that they
don't believe that they deserve it."
       For Sullivan, who sees a "desperate search for intimacy" in
society, it is "a cruel paradox and irony" to exclude gays from an
institution that "could help us achieve intimacy." That is why the
movement in Hawaii to legalize marriage for gays is crucial, of
"historical proportions." While he predicted that it will be "a long and
difficult fight against the odds," the issue is not legal or political, it's
about "faith in the right of all human beings to love one another" without
limits based on gender.

Hearts need to be changed
       If Sullivan is the voice of the future, author and activist priest
Malcolm Boyd said that he didn't mind being one of the "elders" in the
movement. In his sermon he pointed out that "this is the first generation
of gay liberation, the first generation of gay elders." At the age of 73 he
looked back to his early experience in a slum parish in inner-city
Indianapolis when blacks could not enter the church. "There are many
stories that document the church's long refusal to be inclusive," he said.
       "The question the church faces today in regard to gay men and
lesbians is this: Does it love unconditionally?" he asked. "Does it love
enough to heal the wounds of centuries of persecution, torture and
debasement? Does it love enough to ask for forgiveness for things done
and left undone?"
       Gay people aren't exactly "knocking down the doors of mainline
churches, begging to be let inside." On the contrary, Boyd observed that
many gays are saying that the church doesn't have "a spirituality we can
identify with because it has never included our humanity."
       "Our task is to move beyond inclusion," Boyd added. "It isn't
enough to change laws--hearts need to be changed. We need dialogue in
place of debate. Honesty and openness."
       The focus for the church should "no longer be on whether the
church wishes to be inclusive" but rather on "the mission field,
attempting to interpret the Gospel of Christ so that people will come in,"
Boyd said, citing "All Saints as just such a parish."

The church with the radical welcome
       During a forum on the last day of the conference, former rector
George Regas described how All Saints evolved in its understanding of
an inclusive ministry. It began with what he called "a radical welcome, a
life-changing invitation to come to the table." Gays were drawn to the
church, testing its seriousness, but discovering a "place of integrity,"
according to Regas.
       Soon, however, he was "pushed to the wall" by gay members on
the blessing issue. While he was clear about his commitment to justice
issues, he was still struggling with homosexuality as a part of God's
creation.
       When he was approached by a gay couple in 1987 he had to admit
that he "wasn't ready, and the staff of the church was divided." He
offered a private blessing but the couple said that it would rather wait
until they could express their commitment in the company of family and
friends.
       In 1990 he was struck hard by the demands of the prophet Amos
to "let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like an
everflowing stream." And like Martin Luther King, Jr., Regas knew that
"justice delayed was justice denied." So he asked the parish to join in a
"pilgrimage of discussion and prayer" that led to the blessing of a
relationship in January of 1992.
       When the story broke in the press, pickets appeared at the church
and there were threatening phone calls and obscene mail. And yet the
way Regas described it, "The walls around us crumbled, a burden had
been lifted and we could grow into fullness of life as God had intended."
While he said he realized that he was "putting the parish at deep risk,
taking it deep into uncertain waters, we trusted that truth would be
vindicated and validated because of the inclusive love of Jesus. And we
saw that it was possible to do the right thing and survive."

--James Solheim is the Episcopal Church's director of news and
information.