WHO ARE THE GAY CHRISTIANS?
We are among those who know Christ. He is our brother and
our Liberator, who suffers our wounds, feels our pain and dies for
us. We know a little of what He knew: we know what it is to love
and be loved, we also know loneliness, oppression, denial by one's own
family and friends, alienation in our places of worship, rejection of
our, small prophetic voice and we experience crucifixion. Yet we
also love our own, and the stranger, as Jesus did.
In some of our churches, we are expected to be an invisible
people. When victimised, we get the blame for it- if we get
harassed, it's our problem - if we get attacked, it's because we asked
for it - if we speak out, we a flaunting ourselves or pushing our own
agenda - if we stand by our rights, we are over stepping the boundaries
- if we come out to stand with pride, we are recruiting children
and offending family values.
We are seldom included in the life of the church. When we are
included, it is to receive the ministry of others but never to be
ministers: we may receive but never give. Our rights of passage
and our relationships are ignored; our celebrations and achievements
are never mentioned or openly celebrated with us - yet we are expected
to celebrate every "straight" right of passage and achievement, as a
matter of due course. Our suffering is sometimes alone and
in silence. We are criticised when we complain, or lament, shout
for joy, praise the Lord or seek to participate or speak with the voice
of the teacher or of the prophet! When we identify ourselves among the
ordained ministries of the Church, we experience harassment, overly
critical scrutiny and improper denial of our calling or vocation. Those
are the privileges of heterosexual Christians, or so it is assumed in
some of our churches.
We voice a different understanding, for we know of Christ's solidarity
with us, the rejected ones who are seen as being outside of the
dominant, sexual and cultural norm. When we speak to our
communities, it is often with tears in our eyes, as we speak prophetic
words of radical inclusivity, knowing that Christ accepts us yet our
churches do not. We grieve as much for the church as for
ourselves, for loss of intimacy and estrangement, for loss of
interconnectedness, mutuality, reciprocity and
participation. Sometimes, when we rage or complain, our
complaints are treated lightly or redirected by use of innuendo and
contradiction. Our frustrations are met with denial or even
outright hostility. What we do for Christ is over-looked.
Our insights and visions are veiled in a darkness that is neither of
our doing, nor of God, but is the oppressive pall of homophobia that
blankets our Christian endeavours. Like ancient Galilee, our own,
local Geography of Hope is an occupied land, held by forces of
disapproval, spiritual violence and suppression. Some
people join us in our struggle to be Christian, accepting us, affirming
us and encouraging our participation. Others are ambivalent,
while others seek to minister death to us, by cutting us off, shunning
our right to participate. Thus despised, many of us are relegated
to the margins of church existence, to be the invisible ones.
I tell you, my friend, that has not always been the case. Christ meets
us at the margin, for He has crossed the barriers of discrimination and
has recognised us, as significant witnesses to the Reign of
God. Christ has gone before us and calls us His
own. Of old, we were the hospitable ones, who nurtured, protected
and assisted God's people. It was our kind that brought
Jesus gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh. It was our
kind that ministered to Him in Bethany and gave Him a home away from
home. It was one of our kind in whom He found a faith
greater than Israel. He healed our loved ones then, as now.
In reading the Gospels we see Jesus speaking against those who tried to
use Scripture to isolate those that they deemed "reprobates and
sinners" and we are scandalised by those who seek to revert to
similar, pharisaic practices in our time. The Scriptures are used as
weapons of terror against us through an encoded language of sodomy that
does injustice to both us and the Canon. However, we read the
Scriptures with different eyes and kinder hearts. We look back
and recognise Joseph and Daniel as our brothers, Ruth and Naomi as our
sisters, and see David and Jonathan as our most celebrated
lovers. We share their story of faith, love and separation and we
thank God for telling it. We thank God for the many outcasts and
eunuchs that ministered to the People of God and stand with us as
bearers of the Reign of God.
Interestingly, the term "eunuch" is used to refer to a variety of
people in the Bible, many of whom are not castrates but a class or
caste of servants, cut-off from their families. We can relate to
such eunuchs. In fact, Rev. Nancy Wilson suggests that they
may have included gaymen in their numbers, as a special class called
"eunuchs". They are usually shown as royal officials, who
characteristically act as go-betweens, councillors and rescuers of the
People of God. The Books of Jeremiah, Esther and Daniel contain
numerous such examples. We had a role to play, once, and we seek
to claim a role once again, not at the fringe, but as full
participants, bearers of faith and heirs to the promise. As heir of the promise, we welcome these words from Paul:-
My point is this: heirs, as long as they are minors, are no better than
slaves, though they are the owners of all the property; but they remain
under guardians and trustees until the date set by the father. So with
us; while we were minors, we were enslaved to the elemental spirits of
the world. But when the fullness of time had come, God sent his Son,
born of a woman, born under the law, in order to redeem those who were
under the law, so that we might receive adoption as children. And
because you are children, God has sent the Spirit of his Son into our
hearts, crying, "Abba! Father!" So you are no longer a slave but
a child, and if a child then also an heir, through God. (Galatians
4:1-7)
It is our faith by which we stand justified. From the Scriptures we see that our faith is of the
order of the centurion and of his love for his serving boy; of
the mutual love between Jesus and Lazarus and of the unnamed Ethiopian
eunuch, who read the Word and overcame barriers of distinction to claim
a place among the faithful. We know our own and claim them as our
antecedents, as, like them, we cross the boundaries of discrimination
and claim our place within the Reign of God.
When you seek to include the outcasts, remember, as you stand with
them, that you stand with Christ. If you chose to reject
those who do not fit your norms, remember that Christ died for us all,
even those who crucified Him. He died, even for those who
violently enforce their values and beliefs upon others, as He prayed,
"Father forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing."
For UNITY, Adelaide, 1997.
Pray with us.