The influence of the Gertrude Stein Club is stronger than ever.
For all the hype about hope, Obama is still a
calculating politician.
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ROBERT A. BERNSTIEN
Friday, May 16, 2008
“JOHN,” A GAY African-American Baptist sitting in a pew at his all-black church in D.C., froze as the pastor announced from the pulpit that gay and lesbian people “are not welcome here.”
“I know who you are,” the pastor continued. “I want you to get up and get out” and “if you don’t get up, I’m going to come down and pull you out of your seat.”
Mortified, John left.
His experience illustrates one striking irony and helps explains a second one.
The first irony is that people of color — who by all rational standards should be the first to understand the evils of anti-gay discrimination — are in fact astronomically more homophobic than their counterparts in white churches. Among those pointing out that error in their ways have been such African-American leaders as Jesse Jackson, the late Coretta Scott King, NAACP Chair Julian Bond and Rep. John Lewis (D-Ga.).
The second irony is that I — an essentially non-religious white man allergic to the kind of religious extremism so often trumpeted by churches labeled as “Baptist” — a few weeks ago made a significant contribution to a local all-black Baptist congregation.
The object of my unlikely behavior was the Covenant Baptist Church in Southwest, where John has found solace and wholehearted acceptance. It reflected my profound admiration for the courage, integrity, and, yes, religious conviction of its co-pastors, Revs. Christine and Dennis Wiley.
With no known GLBT family members or relatives, the Wileys nevertheless have staked their jobs and livelihood on a basic tenet of their faith, namely, that Christian theology is about inclusion, not exclusion.
COVENANT BAPTIST HAS long been “welcoming and affirming” to gays, and the Wileys were the Blade’s 2005 pick as “best straight ally.” But last year, they broke further, and far more controversial, ground when they conducted blessing ceremonies for two gay men and two lesbian women. That triggered a congregational crisis. The church has lost some congregants and while it has also attracted new members, not surprisingly including some who are gay, the Wileys don’t want Covenant to become wholly gay. That too would violate their principle of inclusion.
They are, however, proud of the many straight congregants who while opposing their pastors’ stance remain open to talking about their objections. Recently, for example, when the Wileys received a Faith in Action award at the annual Metro DC PFLAG Gala, their table included five supportive congregants and another five who are still opposed but whose willingness to attend a PFLAG event “lets us know they’re trying to deal with it.”
TO UNDERSTAND THE Wileys’ daring — the extent to which they have staked their life’s work and livelihood on behalf of gay equality — consider the experience of Rev. John Selders.
Rev. Selders, who is openly bisexual, was consecrated a bishop in the Church of God in 2004 and is the organizing pastor of Amistad United Church of Christ in Hartford, Conn. For years, he was part of a group of black ministerial colleagues who have known each other all their lives and who get together to “play cards, drink, smoke pipes, let their hair down.” However — even though he says some of the others are themselves gay or bisexual — Selders was ultimately expelled by his old buddies because he challenged their hypocritical anti-gay stance from the pulpit.
He continues, however, to get calls from some of them, as well as from other black ministers, who tell him they agree with him privately, but “can’t preach that in my church.” Even some personal friends fear being seen publicly with him: “Sometimes we have to meet outside their neighborhood.”
The Wileys not surprisingly have had similar experiences. “We’re pretty ostracized by other ministers,” says Rev. Christine. “Even those who are theologically compatible with Dennis and me will say, ‘I really admire what you’re doing, but I can’t do that in my congregation.’ So what we realize is that people will admire us from a distance but really think we’re crazy.”
The world could use a few million more such crazy pastors.
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