WHO ARE THE GAY CHRISTIANS?

In some of our churches, we are expected to be an invisible people.  We are treated like minors, sub-adults, non-persons berated as unrepentent sinners.  We know that accusation to be a lie, for we experience Chrsit active in our lives.  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 are flaunting ourselves or pushing our own agenda - if we stand by our rights, we are said to be over stepping the boundaries -  if we come out to stand with pride, we are accused of recruiting children and offending family values.

We are seldom included in the life of the church.  Welcoming and affirming places are beacons of light in our midst, places of succour and growth and friendship, for which we praise God. In such places, our ministries are welcomed and appreciated, as part of the Spirit's gift to the church. When we are included in other places, it is to receive the ministry of others but never to be ministers: we may receive but never give ministry.  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, sing praises 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 Christ has done for us, in bringing forgiveness and a life-fulfilling blessing and self worth, goes unrecognised. 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.  Read what Paul has written:


It is our faith by which we stand justified. In faith we overcome adversity, as did Ruth and Naomi, Tamar, Rahab, and the sons of Bathsheba and Mary, even to overcome Law and tradition.  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."

An extract with links from VOICE, Vol. 5., has proven interesting to many, and recently received mention by Stu Camerson, Secretary of the Synod of South Australia, during discussions with members of the Friends of Unity Executive, on Tuesday 13 April, 2004.  It provides two very useful reflections on why evangelicals and liberals need each other.  Richard Mouw points to the dangers of further schism and isolation among themselves if conservatives isolate themselves from the challenge of theological reflection with liberals.  Barbara Wheeler presents a case for knowing the stranger, and what she says is alarmingly relevant.