a word for my congregation
Jan. 31st, 2010 06:59 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
memelainaLast September my church, the ELCA (Evangelical Lutheran Church in America) did something that I have been waiting for and praying for my whole adult life - they opened ordination to homosexuals who are either celibate or in a committed relationship (the same restrictions made of heterosexuals). It was a time of deep rejoicing for me. I had watched for ten years as this resolution was discussed, dissected, rejected, and yet, always, it came back - and each time it did more church members, albeit some very reluctantly, opened themselves to support it.
I went to church that Sunday in September looking to share my joy with the members of my congregation whom I know, from personal experience, are loving and giving Christians. I was disturbed, let's openly say I was horrified, to find my beloved pastor telling us sadly but calmly that he did not agree with the church's resolution. I was ashamed when I found that my congregation was agreeing to allow, even encouraging, members to withhold their contributions from the church at large and to donate funds only to our little congregation. The shame built into anger. I was, and am, tempted to leave the congregation.
And yet I do not think that is the solution. These are not bad people. I have seen them act with amazing love and charity in the more than fifteen years that I've been part of this congregation. But they are so AFRAID that it astounds me. They huddle in a corner with their eyes closed and their ears covered while the very breath of God moves through the room where they are cowering.
The apostle John said, somewhat sadly it has always seemed to me, "Little children, love one another." He didn't give a categorical list of times and conditions under which to love one another. He just said "love", knowing that in the final analysis that was the only solution. We, as Christians, as Lutherans, are privileged to live in a time when the Holy Spirit is actively moving among us. How unbearably sad if when we finally meet our God the only explanation we have for our lack of love is "I wanted things to be like they always used to be."
I went to church that Sunday in September looking to share my joy with the members of my congregation whom I know, from personal experience, are loving and giving Christians. I was disturbed, let's openly say I was horrified, to find my beloved pastor telling us sadly but calmly that he did not agree with the church's resolution. I was ashamed when I found that my congregation was agreeing to allow, even encouraging, members to withhold their contributions from the church at large and to donate funds only to our little congregation. The shame built into anger. I was, and am, tempted to leave the congregation.
And yet I do not think that is the solution. These are not bad people. I have seen them act with amazing love and charity in the more than fifteen years that I've been part of this congregation. But they are so AFRAID that it astounds me. They huddle in a corner with their eyes closed and their ears covered while the very breath of God moves through the room where they are cowering.
The apostle John said, somewhat sadly it has always seemed to me, "Little children, love one another." He didn't give a categorical list of times and conditions under which to love one another. He just said "love", knowing that in the final analysis that was the only solution. We, as Christians, as Lutherans, are privileged to live in a time when the Holy Spirit is actively moving among us. How unbearably sad if when we finally meet our God the only explanation we have for our lack of love is "I wanted things to be like they always used to be."
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no subject
Date: 2010-01-31 05:01 pm (UTC)I'm kind of waiting for a great Christian crossover in this country at least. The one where disaffected Catholics come to Episcopalianism where their pastor can be a woman, and there's no excommunication for voting the wrong way on abortion (or having one). And the homophobic Episcopalians move to Roman Catholicism, where it's only ok to be gay if you don't, you know, do anything about it. Unfortunate altar boys only mentioned in passing, here.
Good luck to all of you out there who try to maintain and carry out their religious convictions; I'm afraid I lost mine a long time ago. I trust God to deal with me as He sees fit.