My heart hurts today; love, it seems, is not enough.
I have a heart for the Church. I've tried so hard not to. I have spent a lot of time being resentful, bitter, and risked cynicism because I couldn't handle the silent oppression for being different. I heard a sermon last week in which the pastor said that you can't forgive institutions, you have to forgive people. What he meant by this, I think, is that it is individuals who make mistakes and it's inaccurate (at best) to indiscriminately blame a group for the failings of a few. In this case, however, I'm pretty upset with the whole lot. The lot of church leaders who are so aware of the nuance and uncertainty surrounding verses in Scripture, verses that are the foundation of long held Church teachings. And the lot of their congregants, the silent flocks who feel in their hearts the call to love, the call to listen... the call to wrestle with the nuance and uncertainty. Perhaps even the call to change.
I was talking to a friend recently. She's an adamant supporter of LGBT equality. I asked her what she knew about how the above church was handling the issue of minority gender and sexual identities. She told me that she'd had a meal with church leaders at the above church, and that they were very sympathetic. They had acknowledged that the issue needed to be dealt with, that LGBT folks needed to be invited and welcomed into the church. But, in the words of my friend, they had said, "There are 500 ways to screw this up, and only one way to do it right." Their fear is that the very discussion would divide the congregation.
I'm reminded of times not-so-long past, when some churches used Scripture to exclude other groups, openly denying other minorities the opportunity at loving community. People of color kept in the fringes, isolated into communities of outcasts, worshiping with one another. I see a similar trend today, with LGBT folks, their friends and allies all worshiping the same God that they've been told doesn't accept them.
I've also seen the deep hurt, the tears and the weary eyes of my LGBT friends who open their hearts so wide to a community that will not, perhaps cannot listen. The oppressed bending over backward to show that they're human, that they deserve to be loved. To be heeded. To be given the dignity of a listening ear.
Granted, LGBT folks have their share of patience to contribute; dialogue is a two-way street. But when the balance of power is weighted to one group, shouldn't it be that group that sacrifices a bit? Else it becomes the right of the oppressed to restore this balance?
I guess what I'm asking for is a little awe. I want the Church to open their eyes to the great sacrifice that it's calling LGBT folks to make. A call to celibacy, in some denominations, or, at the impasse of an unchanging gender/sexual identity, the forfeit of their church communities altogether. All this based on church teachings with a foundation on a few sketchy verses and a long history of heterocentrism and homophobia. Perhaps this will lead to a little respect, a lot more love, and some serious, long-overdue understanding.
