I wrote this post last week as a submission to Sojourner’s God’s Politics blog. But Sojourners is not yet sure of if they will respond to the Prop 8 verdict or what that response will be. Maybe this will get posted there eventually, maybe it won’t. So I’m just going to post this here because I feel it has to be said.
I’ll be perfectly honest – I had a hard time writing this post. I’ve had multiple people ask me recently why there has been nothing at the Sojourner’s blog about the overturning of Prop 8 or about the struggle of LGBT folks for basic rights. My queer friends who deeply respect the organization as a defender of justice for all ask why no one is writing about justice for them or celebrating when such justice is achieved. My usual response has been, “yeah, someone really should write about that for Sojourners.” That is until I was called out on my hypocrisy. Why was I so willing to stick my neck out (and be ripped apart) for so many other oppressed groups, but not for homosexuals? Why was I remaining silent?
Those challenges hit me hard. They opened old wounds and deep regrets of a time when I had been silent before that still cause me pain. Tim was one of my closest friends in high school. We knew each other from church youth group and would spend hours together discussing books or playing cards in some coffee shop. We went to college in different states and in those pre-cell phone and pre-Facebook days when AOL was still pay-by-the-minute, we drifted apart. I heard through the grapevine that he had come out of the closet and that all of our other youth group friends refused to associate with him anymore. But even then I didn’t reconnect with him, caught up as I was in my own college life. After graduation, I had no way to get in touch with him, but the desire to contact him and just let him know I still was his friend weighed heavy on my heart. I always thought that someday I would find a way to reach him. But then a few years ago while I was still living in another state my mom called and mentioned offhand that Tim had died after being hit by a car while walking home from a grad school class. Apparently many of our former close friends from high school had refused to even attend the funeral in protest of his orientation.
I had remained silent for too long. I don’t know if he assumed I condemned and rejected him like the rest of our youth group friends, I never got the chance to tell him otherwise. I missed an opportunity to show love to the hurting and I will forever regret my silence. And I miss my friend.
So I knew that I could not remain silent now. Even as I am unsure of what exactly to say, I knew I had to be a voice standing in solidarity and celebration of the overturning of Proposition 8. Our LGBT brothers and sisters need to see now more than ever that they are loved by the church – that we can come alongside them and mourn when they mourn and rejoice when they rejoice. They need to see that the church sees them more than just as objects to be debated. If we remain silent now by failing to publicly celebrate this momentous occasion we will have missed our opportunity to show love to the hurting.
So I am celebrating with friends who can now enjoy the same cultural and legal benefits of marriage as I can. Who can now visit their partners of many years in the hospital and include their spouse in their health coverage. And I join them in their hope that one day these basic civil rights will not only be available in a small handful of few states, but all across our great nation. At the same time, I express my sympathy as they and their families continue to be thrust into the centers of controversy – forcing them to fight to hold onto basic civil rights in our society. I don’t even pretend to understand their struggle to simply live normal lives and the day to day pain that causes, but I do know that I can’t contribute to that continued pain by choosing to remain silent. I can’t wait for someone else to speak up for me – I can’t outsource loving my neighbor. And so I rejoice with the parts of the body of Christ who are celebrating being granted one small portion of the privileges I already enjoy. It seems almost pathetic and nowhere near enough, but it’s all I can think to do.