Easter season is
an ideal time for self-reflection. This year I'm
wrestling with the idea of accountability. First, there's
Christ's resurrection, with its grand motif of
commitments and promises. Secondly, there's the
Soulforce Equality Ride, which has reached its halfway
point. There is so much to think back on and look
forward to.
The westbound bus
has been blessed with opportunities to engage in
serious dialogue on homosexuality and faith with
conservative Christian communities on our itinerary.
The rhetoric du jour at most of these stops has been
that homophobia is not a Christian value. Administrators,
faculty, and student leaders have been coming forth in
chapels and classrooms to condemn hate speech and
violence against LGBT people.
Refreshing as it
is, I am weary of the "love the sinner, hate the sin"
fallacy that is being offered as an alternative. The concept
seems benign and doable when homosexuality is perceived as a
cultural pestilence extraneous to the campus bubble.
Time and again Equality Riders have been told we are
affirmed as human beings created in God's image but
would not make suitable roommates, teammates, and coworkers.
What kind of love can have such distinctions inscribed
upon it?
On Good Friday at
George Fox University in Newberg, Ore., a group of
Christian students told me they loved me and sympathized
with "my issue." They also told me they would still
vote against LGBT nondiscrimination laws and marriage
equality. Their professed love for me leaves me
potentially jobless, homeless, and heartbroken. What kind of
conscience allows for such a worldview? My heart is heavy
this Easter because I struggle to see Christ in the
Christian response to diversity. One cannot condemn
people on the basis of sexual orientation and aspire
to end hate at the same time. That does not work.
It is revealing
that so often Soulforce Equality Ride visits fall under
the jurisdiction of the Christian institution's marketing
offices. Homosexuality, then, is treated as a matter
of public relations. In the opening remarks to the
morning assembly at Pepperdine University, a faculty
member spoke about confessing the institutional sin of
homophobia until a rider pointed out the antigay
literature the university had provided its students in
preparation for our visit. Right then it became
evident that our lives as LGBT people and our quest for
equality are not publicity stunts to be assuaged with
politically correct pronouncements. What an
educational opportunity that long and awkward moment was!
It also
highlighted a larger problem afflicting the conversation
about homosexuality and faith. In our era of hype,
confession has become a hip marketing
term--hardcover to DVD, it is available for purchase
in all formats. PR firms see it as a cure-all for
clients stuck in a harsh spotlight. Confession as a
pop culture phenomenon is celebrated as if a tell-all
were an end-all.
Along the way,
the spiritual nature of this sacrament seems to have
become a moot point. Confession calls one not to simply
acknowledge a transgression and accept responsibility
for any damage caused. It also calls for a radical
change in behavior in order to earn a life beyond
forgiveness. Unfortunately, so many Christians misguidedly
equate the act of confession with the blessing of
forgiveness. I believe there is a vast spiritual
distance between the two. The Soulforce Equality Ride
operates in that reconciliatory space in between,
which can only be traversed with intentional,
proactive steps.
Repentance is
twofold: regret and atonement. After decades of sustained
activism and prayerful study, some congregations have been
moved to regret their previous rhetoric and actions
toward the LGBT community. Even if this sentiment is
first expressed in words only, it's a powerful
call to transformation. Now, is there a blueprint for
atonement? Such a journey is deeply personal for an
individual, but what does it look like for a campus,
church, or society at large? What can academic institutions
and communities of faith do to right the wrongs of
homophobia?
On the latest leg
of our westbound itinerary, Soulforce Equality Ride has
provided two schools with ripe opportunities to commit to
the process of true confession. The courageous members
of the Malibu GLEE (Gay, Lesbian, and Everyone Else),
the unofficial support group for LGBT students at
Pepperdine University, has approached the administration
with a request for official student
government-approved status, which would enable it to
create programming that addresses issues of faith and
homosexuality. A committed group of faculty and staff
at Fresno Pacific University are exploring ways to
establish a Safe Spaces program on campus. Even
MidAmerica Nazarene University in Olathe, Kan.--while
still figuring out what to do about dancing--has
opened its minds and hearts to this dialogue. How can
we succeed as a community in reaching out to those
affected by the religion-based oppression? It is as much the
responsibility of national and local organizations as
individuals (like the alumni) to make sure these
efforts are taken seriously.
Confession does
not stop at words. We must hold ourselves and each other
accountable to bring theological doctrine, institutional
policy, and private behavior into harmony. Only then
would we have a cause to celebrate truly good news not
just on Easter but every day. Hallelujah.
