An Open Letter to my United Methodist Sisters and Brothers
Rev. Rebecca Voelkel, Institute for Welcoming Resources and Faith Work Director
The National Gay and Lesbian Task Force
In seminary, my systematic theology professor would always admonish us
to remember that any talk of the crucifixion was almost blasphemous
without an understanding of resurrection and any talk of resurrection
without the crucifixion wasn’t Christian. She said this because
injustice and oppression are realities in our lives and in the lives of
millions around the world. If we forget this, we participate in the
oppression. But if we live without hope, we cannot name ourselves as
followers of the One who was a doer and a bearer of justice and new
life. I struggle with this, but I think she is right.
It is this intertwining reality that comes to me as I sit in
Minneapolis, Minnesota (the Northland where winter’s presence is still
felt) gazing out at the rain-soaked day which promises of Spring, and
read all the news of the General Conference of the United Methodist
Church and its machinations about lesbian, gay, bisexual and
transgender folks.
Although the resurrection threatens to break through in all kinds of places, yet the crucifixion holds sway in many:
- Sue and Julie were married today with the gathered body
officiating—love, long-time commitment and faithful, faithful women
covenanting in the midst of the Body of Christ. A profound moment of
resurrection.
- The voting delegates of the 2008 General Conference pass, by 12
votes, language that keeps in place a pastor’s ability to bar from
membership, anyone he or she deems as unworthy of membership. The
particular case that gave rise to this was a pastor who barred a gay
man from membership. A shocking moment of crucifixion.
- Rev. Drew Phoenix and other transgender pastors are in good
standing as the voting delegates defeat any legislation against
transgender persons. A moment of justice and resurrection.
- The voting delegates reaffirm the Church’s assertion that it can
draw the line between love that is sanctioned and love that is
rejected, by keeping in place the “incompatibility” clause. That is to
say, the Church dares to say that gay and lesbian love is not
compatible with Christian teaching. Brokenness and crucifixion.
- Heterosexism and homophobia are named for the sins they are and
the Church is called to stand against them, both in the US and
globally. A moment of clarity and resurrection.
It seems the United Methodist Church refuses to give up its sinful
clinging to crucifixion. It seems the United Methodist Church yet
holds to fear and hatred and to the blasphemy that it gets to decide
where Love can be made known and where it can’t. It seems the United
Methodist Church still has miles to go before it can honestly claim the
name of the Church of Jesus Christ.
And yet…
Love is ALWAYS stronger than death. Resurrection threatens even the
strongest crucifixion, even crucifixion perpetrated by the Church
itself.
And so I give thanks for Sue and Julie, for Drew and RMN, for
Affirmation and MFSA and for ALL the faithful folk. You, as voting
delegates and observers, as protesters and prayers, have held fast to
the resurrection that is already changing death into life.
Your faithfulness WILL transform the Church—it may be 2012 or 2016, but God has already won the victory.
Furthermore, your faithfulness gives hope to those of us who are your
ecumenical, multi-faith and secular colleagues. Your resurrection work
inspires ours.
Two concrete examples of what this looks like:
Given the General Conference’s clarity around homophobia and
heterosexism, we need to hold the United Methodist Church accountable.
The UMC must now speak in favor of a federal transgender-inclusive
Employment Non-Discrimination Act in this country. And globally, it
must speak against the imprisonment, persecution and execution of
lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender persons.
So our shared work continues. May God bless us with resurrection perseverance and hope.
Rev. Rebecca Voelkel
Institute for Welcoming Resources and Faith Work Director
The National Gay and Lesbian Task Force
810 W. 31st Street
Minneapolis, MN 55408
612.821.4397
rvoelkel@thetaskforce.org
Rebecca@welcomingresources.org
www.welcomingresources.org
Inspired by Bishop Robinson’s Message of Hope
By Bill Gillis
I did not go to General Conference this year. But I found myself monitoring obsessively various blogs and newswires throughout the ten days of conference. I was in regular touch via email with folks who were there and others who, like me, were watching from afar. And even though I digested as much data as I could, gleaned from various media, it wasn’t until last night that many of those observations sort of fell – serendipitously – into a proper interpretive frame.
Last night I had the pleasure of hearing Gene Robinson, Episcopal Bishop of New Hampshire, speak at the Equality Forum at the HRC building in Washington, DC. He read a passage from his new book, In the Eye of the Storm: Swept to the Center by God, spoke of his travels and ministry, and entertained questions. It was while listening to Bishop Robinson speak about the state of the Episcopal Church in the United States and the struggles of the worldwide Anglican Communion that my own views of the United Methodist Church – in light of the recent General Conference and the legislative and judicial advances and setbacks experienced by the Reconciling community – were brought into focus. Bishop Robinson made an important distinction between optimism and hope, a distinction that I found apt in light of this year’s conference theme: A Future with Hope. He pointed out that optimism, a state or attitude distinguished by a positive approach or disposition, can all too quickly give way to pessimism. Whereas hope – the positivity of which is associated with the outcome, rather than the outlook – is something more sustaining. With hope, the assumption is that we know how this is going to end. We know what the eventual outcome will be. Therefore we must hope in that future – the future we know full well is coming. The distinction is subtle; the challenge very real. We don’t know when it will come, and we don’t know whether or not we will be around to see it.
Robinson invoked the image of a sculpture outside the National Civil Rights Museum in Memphis, TN, where there are African Americans standing one on top of the other in a continuous spiral moving up to heaven. He remarked that he has always understood the people on the bottom of that sculpture to be just as remarkably happy to be there as the ones on the top – because without someone else’s shoulders to stand on, where would they be? The struggle depicted in the sculpture is one resonant with a sustaining hope that encouraged each new generation to continue working for justice, advocating full inclusion, demanding equal rights and protections, and dreaming that each and every tomorrow might be the day it would all come to pass. As full of hope as it is, however, it is also a cautionary tale.
As Bishop Robinson pointed out last night, remember the Israelites. The Israelites, having escaped Egypt at last, expected the Promised Land to await them just on the other side of the Red Sea. And yet, what greeted them instead was not the Promised Land, but 40 years of wandering in the desert. Similarly, Emancipation did not squelch theological justification of slavery; the Civil Rights Acts of the 1950s and ‘60s did not eradicate racism. And neither will a change in the language of the Discipline expunge homophobia from the United Methodist Church. It may wipe it off its face, but these are seeds that will take years – generations maybe – to cull from the institutional church.
The practices witnessed at General Conference may have been impolitic, and the results less than heartening, but the message of Gene Robinson as he spoke last night was one that resonated with me: we cannot take our toys and go home. That is precisely what the Oppressor wants. Faced with the challenges of returning home, getting back to work, going back to church even, and continuing the movement toward peace and justice in the United Methodist Church, Bishop Robinson reminds us that when we remain at the table, the opportunity for relationship endures. When we insist on conversation, our stories can be told. When we are present with each other, everyone has the opportunity to listen and learn. The voice of the fringe community is vital to the sort of prolonged, intentional, and deliberate dialogue that will bring change.
The work must continue; the hope endure.
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