Monday, March 25, 2013

On Marriage Equality and the Gospel

Tonight, on the eve of two landmark cases being presented to the Supreme Court on the matter of gay marriage, I would hazard a guess that most members of my congregation in Norwich, CT know where I stand by now.  I hope it's not because I make an issue out of it-- because to me it shouldn't be an "issue."  A person's identity should not be cheapened so much as to be made into an "issue." But I do try to make it clear, through occasional sermon illustrations and in conversation, that I stand squarly and unapologetically on the side of marriage equality.  I could go on and on about my arguments with "biblical" understandings of marriage between one man and one woman, but many others have done so, much more articulately and succinctly than I can, so I leave those arguments to them.  

What I can speak to, and what I'm pretty sure most people don't know, is why I care as much as I do.  I'm not gay.  I don't have a gay family member (I don't think).  Sure, I have gay friends-- sometimes I assume that everyone does, though I realize that's not true-- but that's not exactly it either. 

If I travel backwards from where I am today, I first find myself landing in 2006, when I started a part time job at MassEquality in Boston, MA.  At the time, it was not much more than a part time job to help pay the bills, though I certainly did agree with the politics.  We were fighting to hold onto marriage equality in MA, as a bill to ammend to state constitution with a same-sex marrage ban was in the works.  But what started as a mere part time job to pay the bills turned quickly into a passion. I traveled around the state talking to people, hearing people's stories, listening to my co-workers, who couldn't fathom how a straight Christian girl had found her way into an LGBT lobbying organization. They often joked (I hope they were joking)! that maybe I was a spy from the other side. I heard terrible stories of rejection from young people whose families had told them they were abomonations and that they were going to hell-- yes, people really do say these things.  I heard wonderful stories of solidarity from straight couples who said they weren't getting married until marraige was legal for everyone.  Everywhere I turned, there was equal measure of love, justice, compassion-- but also fear, hate, and ignorance. And in my particular setting, I found myself the only one able to speak from the progressive Christian perspective.  For some people I talked to, it was the first time they had heard a Christian person say to them-- to their face-- "I believe God accepts you, affirms you, and loves you just as you are.  Because God created you just as you are." It's a deeply powerful thing, to say those words to someone who desperately needs to hear them.

When I was growing up, I went to one of those Catholic schools that is the epitome of every Catholic school girl movie and every "mean girls" movie put together.  I was bullied terribly, for no other reason than the fact that I was, well, a big geek.  Looking back now, I am incredibly thankful that such a thing happened to me-- as aweful as it was as the time (and for many years after).  Because the behavior of the students around me only served to shine an even brighter light on the gospel of love that we heard every week in church.  The hate that I felt almost every day from other students was negated by the words of compassion, love, and justice that I heard in the gospel.  I recognized something in the words that people were reading-- even if the people reading the words didn't seem to recognize it or live it themselves.  I saw the contrast, and that made me love the gospel even more.  I couldn't have told you then that I would be a minister, or an advocate for equal marraige rights, or even a religious person.  But what I would have been able to tell you is that the Christian Gospel is about love.  Love for God, love for one another, love for creation, love for enemies and friends alike.  As the apostle John writes in his first letter-- whoever abides in love, abides in God.

What more is there to say than that? 

 

 

The Only Way Out is Through: A Sermon for Palm Sunday

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Monday, March 18, 2013

Reclaiming Jesus the Savoir

A look at what it might look like to reclaim Jesus the Savior from a progressive perspective

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Sunday, March 10, 2013

Followers of a Prodigal God

Part four of a Lenten sermon series on the identity of Christ.  Based on the parable of the prodigal son.  

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Saturday, March 9, 2013

Speaking of Dying

I was recently challenged to think of the last time I heard a good sermon on the topic of death and dying.  And after thinking about it for some time, it finally occured to me that I couldn't come up with an answer because I simply can't remember the last time I heard any sermon-- let alone a good one-- on the subject of death or dying.  I've heard some sermons on resurrection, usually around Easter time.  I've heard a funeral homily or two, which provide some comfort for those who greive, but usually have more to do with giving thanks for a person's life than they do making sense of death. I don't know if I've ever really heard a regular, Sunday morning sermon on the subject of dying.

As a pastor, I can think of several reasons why this might be so.  For one thing, we preachers tend to want to inspire and motivate people with our sermons.  We want people to feel uplifted and revived for another week-- or at least I do.  Which isn't to say that every sermon has to be a "feel good" sermon.  But I do think we tend to shy away from topics that seem too dreary or sad.  And maybe part of that comes from our pastoral instincts.  Throughout the course of a week, we visit with members who have lost mothers, fathers, spouses, and siblings.  We talk with the wife whose husband is running out of treatment options.  We counsel the member who is struggling in their marriage. We hear from the woman who is terrifying she may lose her job.  Or her children.  Or her home.  Maybe we fear that to talk about death on Sunday morning is too much.  Amidst so much suffering, we feel it is our job to offer a word of hope-- not dwell on a topic that will only cause us more pain.

But then, perhaps that is exactly where the problem lies.  We don't seem to think that a sermon about death and dying could also somehow be a sermon about hope.  We seem to have abandoned the idea that the Christian story could have something important and meaningful to say about death. In the words of Fred Craddock, we have "outsourced" death and dying to doctors, hospitals, and modern medicine and technology.  But what about the old story that says in our living and in our dying, we belong to God?  That from before we are born until after we are gone, our souls are cared for and loved by God?  That dying is a natural part of life, not something to be feared, and indeed, merely the beginning of another incredible journey?  We seem to have given all that up.  Maybe because it doesn't fit into the modern American narrative that sees death as the ultimate defeat to be avoided, rather than a natural part of life to be faced with integrity and hope.  

I'm not sure how we got so far away from speaking about death as part of the Christian story.  And I'm not entirely sure how to find our way back.  But it seems to me that we must.  

 

Monday, March 4, 2013

The Faces of Christ: Jesus the Healer

How is it that faith in the healing power of Christ endures despite human suffering?

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