Diversity Sunday

The following is the text of a little "personal sharing" I did today in church:

Hi, my name is Joel, and I’m pretty gay. I say “pretty gay” not because I’m ashamed of the term (at least not anymore) but because, as with most things, I believe that sexuality and orientation are more fluid than our often rigid and polarizing society suggests.

Having said that, I identify as a “gay” man at present - and, let me assure you, it’s been quite a journey getting here. I can tell you of years spent in repressed angst, emotions doing everything they could to break through the walled-off surface; of sitting in church silently affirming condemnation of “those” homosexuals; of spending 19 years of my life not feeling I could be wholly honest with anyone and another several years in unhealthy closeted relationships; and of lying awake nights in college, actually afraid of being “left behind” when all the other more perfect and obedient souls were raptured away. Through all of this, I had yet to become aware of one of the greatest ironies of all - that if ever there was such thing as “sin,” it is the detachment from self, from the obvious piece of God placed directly in each of us. Put another way, the “hell” that exists when you are avoiding your own self is very, very real.

I’ve lead a pretty intense life so far. Most of my twenties were spent running either toward or away from something - I’ve seen the pyramids of Egypt, Sydney’s opera house, Rome’s basilica,the mountains of the Dominican Republic. I’ve been skinny-dipping in Tahiti, wandered Paris at midnight, and witnessed the atrocities of 9/11 in Manhattan. I’ve worked on Broadway, on cruiseships, in classrooms, and on tractors; walked into celebrity-filled parties, out of record contracts and through doors that, in hindsight, seem absurd. I have stories to make all of you mothers cringe - of homeless folks shooting up heroine daily on the steps of my Harlem apartment, of a man dying on my doorstep in Boston, and of roadtripping across this country with strangers. More than once.

And through it all, for some reason, I’ve continued to work in churches. I know that a big reason for this is because it’s an environment in which I’ve been comfortable, at least in some respects. However, I also believe that my incredible draw toward the spiritual realm led me to stay connected to the one representation of spirituality with which I was familiar - the mainstream church.

My story of being gay and maneuvering the world of the American “Christian” church - as a congregant or as an employee - has not been the most difficult one, I am sure, although it’s not been entirely easy either. Since college, I have been fortunate to end up in churches in the center or somewhat progressive side of the spectrum. However, I am struck looking back at the default method with which I dealt with the issue - mainly, proceeding with extreme caution and for a very long time, an underlying shame.

Churches are funny things - many of them are all “love, welcome, come join us” on the outside, but don’t be too real, don’t show too much, don’t ask too many questions, don’t disrupt the apple cart. There is a tremendous difference between welcoming someone with a “Hi, how are you?” and embracing them wholly and actively - which, by the way, is a pretty scary thing to do.

Even the most well-meaning folks will end up saying things such as “we love you anyways,” which is much better than many reactions, but still betrays a fundamental sense of not-quite-equal-ness. And in many churches and families, the gay son or daughter is at best quietly pushed to the margins of the page - which begs the question, “who is really in the closet?” The child or the parents? Or the church folk who tiptoe politely around the issue?

It’s been a long and intentional process, but I personally am becoming comfortable with my role in spilling apples. I believe that the real reason we’ve all been placed here is to discover who we really are, what we have to offer others, what our role here is meant to be, and I don’t know that I could have done that without the challenges that being gay has presented me in our current society. One interesting thing I’ve learned is that sometimes other people just aren’t going to like you, and that very often it has nothing to do with you and everything to do with them. This is true about your sexuality, your physical appearance, or even what sports team you like.

Being gay has also helped me to not be afraid to speak up and ask the big questions - about life and about church. To me, a church should be the epitome of a safe place to be honest, questioning and truthful to the core. Such boldness can be applied to this church as well - a place that I personally am still getting to know. I read the words at the top of the bulletin and do wonder if all are truly and actively welcomed here - not just regarding sexuality, but also race, culture, beliefs and socioeconomic status. Realistically, how boldly and actively do we embrace the homeless family? The drug addict? The transgendered? The youth of today? What happens if and when a prostitute comes through our doors? A Pagan? A Buddhist? An agnostic? Are they actively welcome here, and what then does that mean?

To me, church is a place where all people can “come out of the closet” - whether about sexuality, past history, doubts, alternative spiritual experiences, guilt, prejudices, fears or belief. That questioning moves also toward asking why we are all coming here every week and how we might all better connect to each other and to God.

So, yes - i speak to you today as a person who spent many years struggling to find and reconcile his sexual identity. and a person who is thankful for that experience, as it forced him to be bold, to ask the big questions, to not be ashamed and - above all - to be aware of that literal, living, energetic thing called love.

I can share with you so many stories from my own life that have reassured me that I am on the right track - stories of synchronicity that you might find hard to believe, whether receiving unexpected checks for exact much-needed amounts or unprovoked job offers at exactly the right time. My favorite involves meeting a woman in the lounge of the Long Beach airport and running into that woman two years later in a New York City crosswalk, which led to an immediate job offer - a fortunate event considering I had just arrived homeless and jobless in New York. I am telling you this in a conversation about sexuality because I don’t consider it coincidence that these things have happened more frequently the more I’ve learned to come out in the open, to step into the light.

Last week, Barbara spoke eloquently about our growing table of community. I know it is a diverse body of God’s people, each with his or her own variation on theology and spirituality. I, for one, am not one to worry too much about the details of who Jesus was, something about which we know only a limited amount. I would rather focus on the message and the actions of him and those like him - not only the basic principles of love, hope, peace and charity, but also speaking truth, boldly and directly, both to oneself and to those who will listen.

I know that there are many in our world - and likely in this room - who hold a vision of Jesus, the white guy with great abs and a “terrible swift sword.” But I would propose that there are other possibilities, that perhaps he was a well-traveled somewhat homeless and, yes, maybe even gay-ish mystical shaman - maybe with tattoos (if they had them) and an interest in transcending the physical plane; who smoked opium with the Buddhists, lived among prostitutes and struggled for courage to ask the tough questions, whether about sexuality or tradition or hypocracy or enlightenment.

I’m not asking that you accept this vision yourself, just as I don’t need to accept yours. But I do ask that if we call ourselves “welcoming” that we actively and joyfully offer a seat to everyone at the table, not “in spite of” but “because of.” It is my belief that this community - and the world at large - can become - is in the process of becoming - a place of positive affirmation, a place where love is evident, and a place where all are encouraged to be and explore themselves, to voice their feelings and through expression learn to connect - that ALL may be one.

Where dat river at?

I lay my burdens down,

down at the water’s landing

the promised land is found

with no dictums or demanding

come cross the River Jordan

to peace and understanding

We gather gently by

God’s yearning sons and daughters

Neither male nor female am I

when I wade into these waters

But spirit, soft and solid

Returning to mother and father

Come along to the water’s edge

where we may drink of purity

and cross together to that promised land

where love will reign and sorrow cease

and burdens are quickly forgotten

as they’re washed away to sea

by the undulating tones

of the melody

of peace.

SWITCHING OF THE FLIPPING

Flipped the switch
Living days according to whims and news
and point of views
Willing to accept all and no longer fearful
of judgement
of mornings
of a need to choose
or bruise.
But still a bit worried about
my car being towed
bills being owed
prophecies foretold.
Fears of rejection
rooted deeper than thought or ought
If you want something
or someone
ask.
The worst you can get is a shot in the face.