Methodists Vote to Dehumanize Members

If you're straight, you can vote on the issue and go home to your legally sanctioned family and forget about it. For me, it has profound, life-altering consequences. 

Excuse me if I seem strident or overly emotional about this subject. It's just that ...

It is humiliating and degrading when other people get to vote on your value as a person.  Whether in the form of civil rights,  or in the case of this week's vote in the United Methodist Church to double down on the ban against LGBTQ clergy and marriage, it is insulting to reduce human beings to an issue that can just be dismissed by the majority.

Who is the United Methodist Church to take a vote, a popularity poll, about whether fellow human beings, made in God's image, are worthy of full participation in the community of faith?

I've experienced this many times and I'm sick of it. Even though I'm not Methodist, I have history with that denomination. I learned a lot about social justice and ecumenism working in campus ministry at Nebraska Wesleyan University back in the 80s. Under the sponsorship of the UMC chaplain, I started, along with a lesbian friend,  the very first gay and lesbian group on campus (we weren't yet fully enlightened about bi and trans sisters and brothers at the time). The excitement was dampened when the chaplain was fired, in part, because of it.

In 1991, I left the Presbyterian Church USA because a majority voted for the umpteenth time to deny full membership to LGBTQ people.  No matter how big my theological school scholarship was, no matter how many positions I held, or how much ministry I was involved in, I couldn't be ordained simply because of my sexual orientation. You bet I took it personally.

I took it personally when in 1992, a majority of Coloradoans voted to suspend all civil rights protections for LGBTQ people.

I take it personally when I see protesters outside a public event holding signs that say, "God hates fags."

I take it personally when bakery owners refuse to serve gay customers. It's not some far away legal question when because my personal civil rights interfere with the comfort and self-righteousness of some religious fundamentalist, the matter has to go to the Supreme Court.

I take it personally because it is personal for me. LGBTQ equality in church and society are not some abstract issue. My humanity cannot be reduced to an academic debate over carefully selected scripture passages taken out of the context in which they originated thousands of years ago. I cannot respectfully listen to the opinion of the "other side" because they are wrong and they are trying oppress me.

If you're straight, you can vote on the issue and go home to your legally sanctioned family and forget about it. When the vote is about you, it has profound, life-altering consequences.

So excuse me if I seem defensive. Pardon me if my anger seems a little out of proportion. Forgive me if my existence makes you uncomfortable. It's because once again, I have to stand up and defend my value as a person.

Footnote: I'm happy to say that the Presbyterian Church USA has since reversed its position and now ordains and marries LGBT people. Amendment 2, the antigay law Colorado voted for, was later overturned by the U.S. Supreme Court.

Episcopalian Update - Or is it Episcopal?

Even after a friend clearly tells me when it is correct to say Episcopal versus Episcopalian, I still can't remember which is correct.

Why can't we be referred to as Anglican, like all the other offshoots of the Church of England around the world? To that question, actually, I do know the answer. It goes back to the American Revolution when all ties to England were severed, including ecclesiastical ones. Now, of course, the Episcopal Church of the U.S. enjoys a good relationship with the world-wide Anglican Communion.

In just a couple of weeks, I will officially be part of that communion. During the traditional Easter vigil on Saturday April 7, I will be confirmed into the membership of Saint John's Episcopal Cathedral in Denver. I will officially be Episcopalian. Or Episcopal.

In any case, I've gone faithfully to the classes since September, participated regularly in worship, made a financial pledge, and can spout off a pretty good Episcopal(ian) party line. Go ahead. Ask me anything. Except the proper usage of Episcopal versus Episcopalian. And don't ask why Episcopalians wear black so much of the time. I still don't have an answer to that one.

The biggest challenge so far has been documenting my baptism, which occurred approximately 48 years ago, in a Presbyterian church so small that no one answers the phone. Episcopalians believe that only one baptism is necessary, but you'd better be able to prove that it happened.

I've been a member of many congregations and several denominations over the years. I've been a member, lay leader, youth minister, religious educator, musician, and preacher. I won't say that I've finally found the "right" denomination. There's no such thing. But I feel at home for now, worshiping in high church style, with that combination of ancient tradition and modern theology which affirms deep spirituality along with intelligent discourse.

In other words, in the Episcopal (?) Church, you don't have to check your brain at the door in order to engage in serious spiritual practices.

So think of me on April 7 as I step into the newest chapter of my long faith journey, a fully fledged Episcopalian (I think that's it).

Lure of the Cult

 Inside a chilly stone building, the assembled gather over the symbolic remains of a revered leader. Chanting punctuates the ancient rituals which draw followers from all over the city. Indoctrination ("education") for newcomers is provided.

I held off the sect's advances as long as I could. But after several years of watching from the sidelines, I've finally given in. I am now becoming officially indoctrinated, falling slow motion into a cult that has existed for hundreds of years, many of them a bit on the bloody side.

You see, I am participating in new member classes (the Catechumenate) at St. John’s Episcopal Cathedral.

It seems like I have to try as many denominations as I can. I started out Presbyterian and briefly flirted with the United Methodists. After a stormy stopover in the United Church of Christ, I discovered peace and spiritual resonance in the ancient traditions of the Episcopal Church.

Lots of my fellow members from the UCC congregation left at the same time I did, the result of serious congregational contention. Many of them moved on to become Unitarian.

But I had to be different. I went for the more dramatic tradition. I chose mystical and ritual over practical. I like the colorful robes, the gigantic organ, and the kneeling. I love having communion every Sunday. I'd probably be a great Catholic if it weren't for their absolutist exclusiveness and some theology that I just can’t swallow.

The Catechumenate is nine months long, and if I so choose, I may officially join the church around Palm Sunday. No other church that I've been involved with demands such commitment from newcomers. I like that the cathedral, and the 70 participants in my class, take this seriously.

I have many questions I hope will be answered in the coming months: Why do Episcopalians wear black so often? How do they manage to keep disease from spreading when everyone drinks from the same communion cup? Is the Anglican community really protestant, or just Catholic-light? How do they decide where to put those signs that say, “The Episcopal Church Welcomes You”?  How many Episcopalians does it take to screw in a light bulb? Ok, I already know the answer to that one, but I’m not going to say it. I need to show some respect or I may be looking for a new denomination soon.