Struggling to stay in church…

There are moments when I feel so deeply blessed by the local church of which I am a part that I can barely remember how alienating many of the previous communities I’ve lived in were. And then there are moments when the global church, of which our local community is simply one small member, smacks me upside the head.

Fifteen years ago, when my partner, Eric, and I decided to get married we struggled with the decision. Was it appropriate to receive the blessing of a church that refused that blessing to people of the same gender? We finally decided that we would accept the blessing, and the privileges that came with it, and then try as humbly, carefully, respectfully and fully as we could to open it up to other couples, no matter their gender. Much of that struggle has been good, and there have been moments when I feel like our understanding of marriage as a sacrament, as a deeply made vow of monogamy and procreativity (understood broadly, not simply as biological children) between two people is gaining ground. But then there are moments, and this morning is one of them, when I am reminded of how far our religious community still is from such acceptance. Andrew Sullivan has an Op-Ed in the New York Times today that brings tears to my eyes, and that I wish I could deny. But I think he’s naming a reality that is unfortunately more true than it is false.

Sullivan writes: "The current pope is obviously a deep and holy man; but that makes his hostility even more painful. He will send emissaries to terrorists, he will meet with a man who tried to assassinate him. But he has not and will not meet with openly gay Catholics. They are, to him, beneath dialogue. His message is unmistakable. Gay people are the last of the untouchables. We can exist in the church only by silence, by bearing false witness to who we are."

More than ever I think those of us who carry heterosexual privilege need to stop that silence. We need to be open about our desire to include our gay brothers and sisters in our communities, and to welcome and support — since marriage is hard enough it requires community support! — them in their vows to each other. I grieve that a community I love so deeply continues to hurt people so profoundly. Christ walks among us even now, but are we willing to meet him at the margins, where he always is?