21 May, 2012

Open letter to Katharine Jefferts Schori, the Presiding Bishop of the Episcopal Church

Most Rev. Katharine Jefferts Schori,

Nicole, I and our daughter Hannah have been members of St. Mary's Episcopal Church in Eugene, Oregon, since 1999. Since then, we have had the pleasure of serving as Lay Eucharistic Ministers, teaching Sunday School, serving on the Vestry and the pastoral care team. Several years ago, St. Mary's Vestry voted to become a welcoming congregation, and we joined the Community of Welcoming Congregations, a statewide organization in Oregon representing approximately 125 interdenominational congregations who welcome LGBTQ people of faith. Victoria is currently Co-Chair of their Board of Directors.

(Incidentally, we're also quite proud here in Oregon to claim you as our own and, well, Corvallis is really close to Eugene, right?!)

President Obama's statement last week in favor of same-sex marriage equality was obviously historic. Yesterday's NAACP vote to support it was no less so, particularly in light of the strongly divergent opinion on this matter held by many in the black churches nationwide. In the wake of these historic events, it is time for the leadership of the national faith communities to make a stand in favor of the freedom to marry and, as chief pastor of our Episcopal Church, we call upon you to stand up and make a public proclamation in favor of marriage equality.

We much enjoyed your Huffington Post interview published March 27, 2012. You certainly imply support for the direction the marriage equality movement is heading, and you pointedly mention the possible (probable?) adoption of same-sex blessing rites at this summer's General Convention. Thank you for that. It's not enough. Please let us make two points about why.

First, our home church St. Mary's is a fairly liberal church, but that's not what we like best about it. What we like best is that we are a mix of Democrats and Republicans, liberals and conservatives, LGBTQ folks and those people in the congregation who have still never quite accepted that we are an openly welcoming congregation. Those folks aren't that comfortable with Nicole and I. But you know what? They still come to the table with us every week. They cook pancakes beside us on Shrove Tuesday, and we recite the Nicean Creed in unison. Holding that tension is the beauty of the Episcopal Church.

Secondly, we were riding back from Portland to Eugene last night, having a long conversation with a mostly secular LGBTQ activist. She wanted to know where the mainline Christian national leadership is. We immediately jumped in to defend everything our churches are doing on a grassroots level, and remind her that the Episcopal Bishop of Oregon has publically come out in favor, both in print and by marching in Portland's Gay Pride parade. She said, "No, I mean the NATIONAL church. If they care about social justice, where ARE they?" And we had to sit back for a minute because we realized, that in trying to support the range of opinions within the Episcopal Church, you've been tacitly silent in failing to make a true, affirmative statement. As our friend reminded us, failing to make a stand can be nothing short of complicity.

In our political climate, where the religious right is controlling the moral arguments in the press, we are consistently hearing only from secular supporters in favor of marriage equality. Marriage is civil right, a human right and a sacrament. The national Episcopal Church through it's various efforts devotes years of staff time and millions of dollars defending the human rights of people around the world. It's part of our Episcopal Christian mission. We know we don't like to take political stands in the Episcopal Church, but defending the human rights of oppressed minorities is an Episcopal imperative. It's time to tend to the rights of our own house, here in our own country.

The Episcopal people look to you for moral guidance. While we maintain the support of our members to form their own political party views, pastorally there is in fact a moral imperative when it comes to human rights. Most Rev. Jefferts Schori, it's time to stand with us publically and declare unequivocal support for the freedom to marry.

I've attached below an article from CNN's Belief Blog written by an Episcopal professor of law. He makes the argument that Peter handled the first major crisis in the emerging Christian Church (if non-Jews should be "let in" and, if so, whether adult men should be circumcised) by supposing that the old law of Leviticus essentially didn't apply to all people, equally, at all times. If that's the case, if the man who walked and talked and dined with Jesus could suppose such a thing, how much more so can we assume that the Leviticus condemnation of LGBTQ is inapplicable now. It's an argument I've never heard quite that way, in quite that context, and I hope you find it as fascinating and compelling as we have.

Thank you so much for taking your valuable time to read a lengthy email. May you have a blessed day.

My Take: The Christian case for gay marriage
Editor's Note: Mark Osler is a Professor of Law at the University of St.
Thomas in Minneapolis, Minnesota.
By Mark Osler, Special to CNN

I am a Christian, and I am in favor of gay marriage. The reason I am for
gay marriage is because of my faith.

What I see in the Bible’s accounts of Jesus and his followers is an
insistence that we don’t have the moral authority to deny others the
blessing of holy institutions like baptism, communion, and marriage.
God, through the Holy Spirit, infuses those moments with life, and it is
not ours to either give or deny to others.

A clear instruction on this comes from Simon Peter, the “rock” on whom
the church is built. Peter is a captivating figure in the Christian
story. Jesus plucks him out of a fishing boat to become a disciple, and
time and again he represents us all in learning at the feet of Christ.

During their time together, Peter is often naïve and clueless – he is a
follower, constantly learning.

After Jesus is crucified, though, a different Peter emerges, one who is
forceful and bold. This is the Peter we see in the Acts of the Apostles,
during a fevered debate over whether or not Gentiles should be baptized.
Peter was harshly criticized for even eating a meal with those who were
uncircumcised; that is, those who did not follow the commands of the Old
Testament.

Peter, though, is strong in confronting those who would deny the
sacrament of baptism to the Gentiles, and argues for an acceptance of
believers who do not follow the circumcision rules of Leviticus (which
is also where we find a condemnation of homosexuality).

His challenge is stark and stunning: Before ordering that the Gentiles
be baptized Peter asks “Can anyone withhold the water for baptizing
these people who have received the Holy Spirit just as we have?”

None of us, Peter says, has the moral authority to deny baptism to those
who seek it, even if they do not follow the ancient laws. It is the
flooding love of the Holy Spirit, which fell over that entire crowd,
sinners and saints alike, that directs otherwise.

It is not our place, it seems, to sort out who should be denied a bond
with God and the Holy Spirit of the kind that we find through baptism,
communion, and marriage. The water will flow where it will.

Intriguingly, this rule will apply whether we see homosexuality as a sin
or not. The water is for all of us. We see the same thing at the Last
Supper, as Jesus gives the bread and wine to all who are there—even to
Peter, who Jesus said would deny him, and to Judas, who would betray him.

The question before us now is not whether homosexuality is a sin, but
whether being gay should be a bar to baptism or communion or marriage.

The answer is in the Bible. Peter and Jesus offer a strikingly inclusive
form of love and engagement. They hold out the symbols of Gods’ love to
all. How arrogant that we think it is ours to parse out stingily!

I worship at St. Stephens, an Episcopal church in Edina, Minnesota.
There is a river that flows around the back and side of that church with
a delightful name: Minnehaha Creek. That is where we do baptisms.

The Rector stands in the creek in his robes, the cool water coursing by
his feet, and takes an infant into his arms and baptizes her with that
same cool water. The congregation sits on the grassy bank and watches, a
gentle army.

At the bottom of the creek, in exactly that spot, is a floor of smooth
pebbles. The water rushing by has rubbed off the rough edges, bit by
bit, day by day. The pebbles have been transformed by that water into
something new.

I suppose that, as Peter put it, someone could try to withhold the
waters of baptism there. They could try to stop the river, to keep the
water from some of the stones, like a child in the gutter building a
barrier against the stream.

It won’t last, though. I would say this to those who would withhold the
water of baptism, the joy of worship, or the bonds of marriage: You are
less strong than the water, which will flow around you, find its path,
and gently erode each wall you try to erect.

The redeeming power of that creek, and of the Holy Spirit, is
relentless, making us all into something better and new.

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