Vote for Obama!

A link to Obama's responses to the Human Rights Campaign's questionnaire. Not 100%, but as close as any Democratic candidate gets. And, you gotta love his positions on economic justice, health care, education, Iraq, restoring our international reputation, women's rights, civil rights, and much more.

Below is the letter to the editor my Integrity chapter recently sent to our local newspaper:

To the Editor:

We members of *** Integrity read with interest ***'s report on the recent meeting at the Episcopalian Cathedral in Bedford, Texas, aimed at forging a coalition of North Americans with Anglican roots upset by the Episcopal Church's "liberal" direction.

*** Integrity is the local chapter of a national grassroots organization advocating the full inclusion of lesbian and gay people in the Episcopal Church and our equal access to its rites. In Jones' report, Bishop Ackerman, one of the organizers of this new conservative coalition, states that one of its goals is to encourage "Episcopalians who have felt there's no place left for them." We certainly know what that feels like.

Among the group signing this letter we include a couple whose life became untenable at the parish where they had been active members for years after one stood up at a diocesan convention to give a human face to the gays and lesbians being denigrated there. One is a mother whose gay son has been alienated from the church by the bigoted policies of the local diocese. Another is a man whose faithful partner of thirty-five years recently died without their ever having been able so much as to go forward in the church to which they had actively contributed for decades for a commonplace anniversary blessing. One of us is a former Episcopal seminarian whose bishop abruptly withdrew sponsorship for his candidacy to the priesthood when he asked for a church blessing on his relationship with his partner, though he had consistently been frank with the bishop about his orientation. Another is a father who has left the church in which he was baptized, raised and confirmed, because he found no way to answer his daughters' questions about why others were married in their church, but their father and his partner could not be. Our group is not allowed to meet at even the most "liberal" of our local Episcopal churches, due to the rector's concern over the reprisal he fears would occur from Bishop *** and his supporters.

Our stories are only the tip of the iceberg. Among our friends and acquaintances, we count others, be they gay, lesbian, or their friends and family, who have left the Episcopal Church in this diocese because they found "there's no place left for them" there. Of course, we vocal ones are a small minority. Larger is the number of local gay and lesbian Episcopalians who remain in fearful silence, including the youth subjected Sunday after Sunday to the message--often subtle, too often overt--that their capacity to love is an abomination in God's eyes. Forgive us if we remain unmoved by the complaints of our bishop, ***, and his fellow-travelers, who would rather split from the Episcopal Church than grant us full inclusion within the life of the church.

[Seven signatures]

A Gay Cure?

I contributed in a small way to this article on the claims of "ex-gay ministries."

Letter to the Editor

Here's the letter to the editor I wrote them in response, and which they published the week after the article appeared:

To the editor: I wish that I’d had the opportunity 16 years ago to read Eric Griffey’s strong, even-handed report on the damage done by those seeking to offer a “Gay Cure” (June 13, 2007). It might have dissuaded me from over a decade of painful and misguided efforts to “pray the gay away.”
Groups like Arlington’s “Living Hope” seek to reconfirm, under the guise of pseudo-scientific, professionally discredited theories and methods, the bigotry amid which we allow many of our young people to be raised. Young gay men and lesbians who read Griffey’s report will be much less likely to place themselves at the mercy of such quackery. It is unlikely they can appreciate, without the hindsight of those who fell prey to these groups, what reports like Griffey’s may have done for them, or thank him for the effort. So let me do it for them.

Just how inclusive should we be?

The folks over at Daily Episcopalian, which the Integrity site includes among its roll of progressive blogs, has included an essay by Derek Olsen, who teaches at Emory, rejecting arguments on behalf of extending communion to the non-baptized. You can read it here, but may need to find it in the July archives. Here's my response:

I share Derek Olsen's convictions about the importance of catechism, but am uncovinced that Jesus wants us to set ourselves up as gatekeepers, making decisions on the basis of outward forms about who has or has not made an “adequate” act of commitment before admitting them to the table.

I understand one might respond that the real issue is in not being a gatekeeper to baptism; that undergoing baptism is simply a part of coming to the table. That may be so, and I believe it makes sense to continue to present it as so. But, when someone who has not undergone outward, ritual baptism comes forward for communion, are we to turn them away? Is this what Jesus would do?

I suspect even the ritual of baptism can become an idol, when we fail to distinguish between its physical, outward form and the underlying spiritual reality.
Are we to take it that, in Jesus’ eyes, there is “neither Jew nor Greek, but … well, of course, there is the outwardly baptized versus the non-baptized”?

In the pericope of the Syrophoenician woman/ Canaanite woman (Mk 7:24-30 // Mt 15:21-28), there is good reason to argue that the latter–who pointedly did not belong to the “community of Israel” in her contemporaries’ eyes–takes up the role of rabbi in a “rabbinal controversy” (one of the traditional discursive forms catalogued by Rudolf Bultmann) with Jesus, and wins the argument. Jesus seems to bow to the force of her argument that she should not be excluded from the meal. Or, as she humbly–and pointedly–puts it, “Even the dogs are allowed to eat the crumbs that fall from the table.”

Granted, her response may well allude to several scriptural passages, demonstrating her desire to embrace the stories shared by those “at the table.” But, ultimately, Jesus proved unwilling to exclude this woman from being fed on the basis of her not having undergone a specific ritual of induction.

She wasn’t baptized–or ritually converted to Judaism–before Jesus conceded her argument, praised her faith, and stopped treating her as an outcast. He pointedly did not tell her (utlimately), “No, first undergo the mikvah, then you can be fed.”

Wish I'd said it like that!

(From The New Statesman)
I am what I am and it's not a choice
Peterson Toscano
Published 20 July 2007
Being gay myself, many folks consider me an expert on all things gay. Did Alexander the great have a male lover? What does the Bible say about homosexuality? For my bay window, should I use lace or chintz curtains?
As a gay theatrical performance activist, the most common question I get is: “how old are you?”
Such a rude question, but completely understandable because of my wild past including the 17-year quest to transform myself into a heterosexual with side trips to Zambia, England, and Ecuador plus a five year marriage. They look at my fresh, young face and wonder 'how did you do all that?' I explain that I am a 42-year-old, non-smoking vegan who moisturizes (It is never too young to start!).
The second most common question I get is: “do people choose to be gay?”
When someone is romantically and sexually attracted to someone of the same-sex, is this nature or nurture? Genetics or a mere whim?
This is a scientific question, best left to scientists. No one knows for sure although researchers have amassed a body of evidence that points to biological factors leading to a same-sex orientation.
One recent study by J. Michael Bailey at Boston’s Northeastern University revealed that among identical twin brothers, if one is gay, the other has a 52 per cent chance of being gay. (Fraternal twins show a 22 per cent chance while brothers who are not twins and do not share the same genetic code show only an 11 per cent chance of both being gay). According to a 1997 Canadian study, Anthony Bogaert of Brock University in St. Catharines discovered that the more brothers in a family, the higher the chance that the youngest ones will be gay.
No one has yet discovered the “gay gene”, but, then again, scientists have yet to discover a gene that causes some people to be left-handed.
Human sexuality is highly complex. We all start out in the womb as female, and then mom’s body puts some of us through a hormonal rinse cycle, which turns us male. With such a complicated transition who can say if all humans are 100 per cent male or female. Scientifically speaking we determine someone’s sex according to many factors, not simply the bits between our legs.
But I stray into murky embryonic waters. Back to choice. Did I choose to be gay?
Yes, on September 21, 1972 in 2nd grade (age 7) I said to myself: “Although most people treat gays like crap and only heterosexuality is represented and celebrated in my world, from this time forth I choose to like other boys instead of girls. Sure others will bully me, maybe even beat me up, but hey someone’s got to be society’s punching bag."
Actually, no, I never chose to be gay. In fact, for nearly two decades I even tried choosing NOT to be gay.
Growing up I knew I was different from the other boys around me. When puberty hit and all my male friends went crazy for girls while I went crazy for my male friends, I understood the difference—I was gay, a homo, a queer, a faggot. From messages I heard on the playground, in the media and at church, I determined gays are sinful and abnormal. Instead I wanted to be a good boy.
So, at the age of 17 after giving my heart (and the rest of me) to Jesus, I embarked on a journey to straighten myself out. I spent 17 years and over $30,000 USD on three continents attempting to change or at least suppress my same-sex attractions. I discovered the Ex-Gay Movement, which promises that homosexuals can live gay-free lives. I reasoned that if being gay were a choice, a product of a dysfunctional upbringing in the midst of a lost and dying world, than surely with the power of God and the guidance of ex-gay ministers, I could “un-choose” being gay or at least choose the right thing for a change.
No surprise, it didn't work. Change was not possible, at least not a change in sexual orientation. But through the years of trying I did change. I became suicidal, filled with shame and self-loathing. The ex-gay process left me depleted, discouraged and depressed. It caused emotional, psychological and spiritual harm.
No, I never chose my same-sex attractions. Also, after I came to my senses and came out of the closet, I did not choose to be “gay”—to act gay according to the current standards and stereotypes presented in both the gay and straight media. Instead I chose to be authentic, to no longer demonise my sexuality, to integrate my faith with the rest of my life. I did choose to be a Christian, a Quaker, a vegan and an activist, but I never chose to be gay.

L'Chaim!

Yesterday, my beloved and I celebrated the first anniversary of our holy union ceremony. He had mentioned while we were still dating that he'd love to have a caricature of the two of us, so I took our wedding album to a local caricaturist, and he produced the nice-sized drawing you see, in part, at right. My sweetie is really pleased with the results, as am I. (By the way, I made out, too: he got us tickets to go see Kathy Griffin at the local performing arts hall!)

Begging your indulgence for a brief moment of whining...

I've been feeling discouraged about the Church lately. At every turn, I seem to encounter people who have no interest in the Church but clearly embody its best values, and the loud protestations of self-proclaimed Christians who embody the very worst of bigotry and pharisaism. Certainly, my fellow congregants are not like the latter, and I'm sure, neither are the majority of Christians in this country. But, they don't speak up nearly as much as the bigots, do they?

Bill Moyers' recent interview with Katherine Jefferts Schori, Presiding Bishop of the Episcopal Church

See it here.

Netscape interviews Bishop Gene Robinson at the 2007 Sundance Film Festival

Time Magazine Interview of Archbishop of Canterbury, Rowan Williams

You can find Time Magazine's troubling interview with Rowan Williams, the Archbishop of Canterbury, here. In it, Williams again voices his dissatisfaction with the election and consecration of Bishop V. Gene Robinson, on the grounds that consecrating an openly gay man constituted what many Anglicans, especially in the "global south," regarded as a breach of communion.

Williams' position seems to be that no part of the church should undertake actions that other parts will regard as communion-breaking, even when such actions are undertaken as a response to the Gospel call for compassion and justice.

But, what the Archbishop seems to fail to understand, is that it is not the offical sanctioning or actions that are regarded by opponents as communion-breaking, but the underlying beliefs. If the ordaining of gay and lesbian people, and the blessing of our unions, causes offense, it is because this reflects our emerging belief as a church that the sheer fact of being gay and lesbian is not "intrinsically disordered," and that homosexuality is not contemptible on Biblical grounds.

It is that belief--not just official positions or acts--that is causing the present divide, and there is nothing we can do about that, other than continue to explain our reasoning and share our experience. Many in the global South simply cannot accept the idea of being in communion with those who hold such beliefs.

But, we cannot simply stop believing as we do, and we cannot forcibly stop many in the global South, or among our own recusants, from refusing to accept communion with us as long as we hold such beliefs.

By advocating the idea that we should act as if we believe homosexuality is sinful in order not to scandalize others, the Archbishop--whose writings and presentations prior to his elevation as Archbishop make it clear that he shares the conviction that the Church has been misguided in its attitude toward homosexuality--is inevitably advocating hypocrisy and moral cowardice.
Certainly, any church, like any other community, has a right to adopt official teachings and positions, and to define certain moral positions as being "beyond the pale" of that teaching.

But, it seems to me, that does not add up to an obligation by anyone to "fudge" their disagreement with such teaching. It is incumbent on any moral agent--whether an individual or community--to be open and honest about ones understanding, and not to pretend to adhere to teachings that one does not, in fact, believe in, just in order to "fit in the community."

And then, to accept the consequences: If ones convictions fall within the "official" teaching of a group one has historically belonged to, well and good. If not, then one must have the backbone to declare what one finds to be true. This does not mean one should accept lightly a parting of the ways between oneself and others with whom one has been in community. But, one should have the backbone not to pretend to believe other than one does just because others make it clear that, on the basis of that belief, they can no longer accept you as part of the community. Anything less is immoral cowardice.

As a gay person who remained in the closet all too long in a cowardly and immoral attempt to "fit into" an often unaccepting community, I can speak to this from hard-won experience.

When ones attempts to "fit in" go beyond "fudging" about ones beliefs or experience, to turning a blind eye to injustice by members of the community toward others, that immorality is greatly compounded.

And that is why, I am sad to say, I believe Archbishop Williams' positions, actions and statements around the issue of homosexuality in the Church have been both immoral, and cowardly.

Willliams' cowardice has been somewhat mitigated by his concern for avoiding past "colonialist" behavior on the part of European and Euro-American Christians toward their sisters and brothers in Africa, Asia and Latin America, and their descendents. But, the Archbishop does not seem to understand how paternalistic his current stance is. If we are to treat our fellow Anglicans of the global South and East as fellow adults, then this entails being honest with them about where we stand, and accepting that they may find this unacceptable, and choose to stand apart from us. That is their adult prerogative. But, to dissemble to them, to attempt to shield them from the fact that we disagree profoundly with them about notions of gender role and sexuality, about Biblical interpretation and even, in certain important respects, about the meaning of faith in God, is to treat them as children, and is an attitude profoundly caught up in our past colonialist relationship.

Soulforce on the Nomination of James Holsinger for Surgeon General

Soulforce today expressed deep concern over the nomination of Dr. James Holsinger for United States Surgeon General.
"As the leading spokesperson for matters of public health, the Surgeon General should be guided by sound medical science, not anti-gay views rooted in religion-based bigotry," said Soulforce Executive Director Jeff Lutes.
Dr. Holsinger is the current president of the United Methodist Judicial Council. As a member of the council, he opposed the 2004 decision to allow Rev. Karen Dammann, a lesbian, to continue serving as a minister. He also upheld the 2004 defrocking of Rev. Beth Stroud, another lesbian minister, and sided with a Virginia pastor who denied church membership to an openly gay man.
Read the rest of this article at soulforce.com.

The Lavender Heart of Texas

Those aware of the oppressive attitudes and policies propogated by the bishops of Dallas and Fort Worth might be astonished to find how comfortable a place Dallas can be for openly gay folks. Read John Cloud's article, "The Lavender Heart of Texas" in the 17 May edition of Time Magazine. (Photo: Jensen Walker for TIME)

March 2, 2007, letter to ++Katherine Jefferts Schori, Presiding Bishop of the Episcopal Church

Dear Bishop Schori, I am writing to share with you some thoughts grounded in my experience as a gay man baptized and raised in the Episcopal church, who has had to go elsewhere, to a local UCC parish, to find a congregation willing to receive my family—myself, my male partner, and our daughters--as it is around the communion table.

I am also writing to share with you the joy and hope I feel at your selection as Presiding Bishop, and to assure you that I will continue to pray for you as you lead the Episcopal church though these challenging times.

I know you are aware of the discouragement faced by those of us who are in committed same-sex relationships in dioceses such as this one of ***, just as I am aware of the apparent dilemma you face as a leader of the Church in trying to balance the Gospel calls to do justice and to preserve communion among Christians, at a time when Christians are divided about what justice demands. I will not waste words trying to convince you of what I am confident you already have experienced to be true: that it is unjust to refuse to engage in full communion with those of us are bound in love with someone of the same gender.

That refusal is just what my family has experienced in the Episcopal diocese of ***. There is no parish here that would sacramentally celebrate, or even publicly countenance, the loving bond between myself and my spouse.

I suspect that, for you, the question is not so much, “Is this unjust,” but, “How should a Christian respond to such injustice?” At present, you seem inclined to recommend that, in the interest of maintaining communion, we exercise patience and not break the external bonds of communion with those who perpetrate such injustice. When I was single, I was inclined to agree. But, as my daughters grew older and more susceptible to imbibing the implications of our church’s stance toward families like ours, I realized I should not impose on them conditions I might accept for myself.

This experience emboldens me to write you out of a concern that the dilemma the Church faces is not what I fear you may take it to be: We are not being asked to choose between justice and communion, for these cannot truly contradict each other. True communion is lacking where justice is denied. We are not being asked to choose between acting justly and demonstrating our willingness to remain in communion, but rather, between two versions of communion: one that excludes gay and lesbian people in the fullness of their lives, and one that does not. A communion that excludes people on that basis is truly impaired, and responsibility for that impairment lies at the hands of the excluder, not the excluded.

In Tanzania, the gathered Primates challenged the Episcopal Church to clarify its commitment to communion, even when this demands sacrifice. And, they are right to do so. But, the sacrifice communion demands is not what some of the Primates appear to believe: Communion demands we sacrifice precisely those idolatrous attachments that cut us off from our sisters and brothers and hence, from God. In refusing to cut off gay and lesbian people from full participation in the life of the Church, we extend communion, we do not break it. We do not even break communion with those who insist on continuing to exclude gay and lesbian people. For, in their case, communion is already broken.

You recently cited Saint Paul’s rejoinder to Christians to act charitably and patiently toward their “weaker brethren,” to be willing even to make concessions in order to give the latter time to grow into what Paul and his audience believed to be a more mature grasp of the implications of the Gospel. But, these concessions were matters of innocuous constraints. The constraints some people in the Church would place on gay and lesbian people are not innocuous, and the two situations are not analogous. I could give up certain types of meat without sacrificing anything fundamental to my personhood. But, to ask me and my spouse, Sam, to sacrifice our love as a condition for full participation in the Church is to break communion with us and our daughters, however we respond to that demand. And, I do not believe Paul ever intended to recommend to anyone that they break communion, or accept being excluded from communion, in the interest of the “weaker bretheren.”

I hope you will lead the church into fuller communion by courageously refusing to cut any of us off from a place at the table, even if that means others will refuse to join you there.

May 3, 2007. Letter to the Editor

Last week, the following letter I wrote to the editor of a local weekly magazine was published in the "Comments" section:

I appreciate ***'s thoughtful and well-researched article on the tensions that threaten to divide the local *** diocese further from the national Episcopal Church, and that church from some other provinces within the Anglican Communion (“A Great Schism?” May 2, 2007). At the same time, as a gay man who has been unable to find a home for myself, my male spouse, and my daughters within the local branch of the church in which I was baptized and raised, the article brought up pain.


It was the Episcopal Church that first taught me that God is not a tyrant or a sanctifier of prejudice, but is the loving source, ground and aim of all creation. To be sure, it also inculcated in me a love for tradition. But, not just any tradition: not the “traditions” claimed by those who condemned Jesus “on biblical grounds” for his fellowship with outcasts. Rather, I was taught that the Tradition of Christ reaches out to embrace all of creation, inviting us all into communion.

It took me time to learn to distinguish between the Tradition of Christ and those traditions cited as justification for excluding some as outcasts. For years, this confusion led me to a misguided attempt to suppress my homosexuality, which is no more superficial to me than the heterosexuality of my straight brothers and sisters is to them. But, ultimately, love—God’s love—won out. I give thanks that God allows me to experience some of that love in the embrace between myself and my partner.

I cannot hate those still caught up in a confusion that so long held me captive. But, I have to name it for what it is, and bemoan its hateful effects. Among those is the fact that it not possible for us to raise our own daughters in the very church that taught me the gospel of love, but which, within this diocese, would teach them that that same gospel rejects a love central to our family.


Thank God, our family has found, at *** First Congregational Church, a congregation of the United Church of Christ, a community that strives to imitate Christ in his refusal to treat any as outcast. I pray that, one day, our local Episcopal churches will come fully to embrace that same gospel.

May 11, 2007. My experiences in "ex-gay" ministries

There has been a great deal of interest lately in the experiences of those who have gone through "ex-gay ministries," so I thought I'd share some comments about my experiences in two such groups (though "ex-gay" is not quite the right term for one of them, as will become clear later): the Portland Fellowship; and Courage, the Roman Catholic ministry to gay and lesbian people who wish to follow the official teachings of the Catholic hierarchy on homosexuality,

I'll start with the Portland Fellowship. While that group predicates its approach to sexuality on a fundamentalist, and I would argue, naive reading of the Bible, one largely uninformed by the insights afforded by over one hundred years of historical-critical Bible scholarship, it also seeks to undergird and justify its approach by drawing on psychological theories that have been largely discredited by scientific consensus, as embodied in the positions of the American Psychological Association, American Psychiatric Association, American Academy of Pediatrics, and other mainstream professional mental health associations.

One of the theorists most mentioned by many associates of the Exodus Ministries is Elizabeth Moberly. Moberly, a former British research psychologist, was once a conservative Anglican, who later converted to Eastern Orthodoxy. Her theory is essentially that homosexuality is grounded in what she has called "defensive detachment." Basically, the idea is that homosexuality stems from a detachment by some people from the gender of their same-sex parent, a detachment rooted in a wounded relationship with that parent, either through parental neglect, abandonment, or abuse. "Same sex attractions," according to Moberly, are at root a "restorative" drive to undo the effects of that detachment--one of the primary effects, Moberly teaches, being insecurity about one's gender identity--, a drive which at puberty becomes "sexualized."

At the time I participated in the group sessions of Portland Fellowship, they were led by its founder, Phil H., a married man and father of several children, who had once identified as gay. Though he had no professional credentials as a counselor, he offered private counseling/therapy sessions to those participants who desire them. (I did not seek these out.) The group was then, and is now, affiliated with Exodus International, an "umbrella group" of ex-gay ministries, under the leadership of Randy Thomas. Thomas had published several books about his own "liberation" from homosexuality, and had earned a graduate counseling degree from Biola University, an evangelical institution. I read several of his books, and they led me to investigate the theories of Elizabeth Moberly, then to seek out the Portland Fellowship. H. and the official "assistants" of the Portland Fellowship, like other prominent associates of Exodus International, paid relatively little attention to emerging scientific evidence that casts doubt on the theory that sexual identity is rooted primarily in nurture, not nature, including from studies showing a statistically significant incidence of homosexuality among identical twins separated at or very nearly at birth. Nor did they give much attention to the paucity of peer-reviewed, scientific data to back up Moberly's theories. Most of her "evidence," from what I can tell from my reading of several reviews of her studies, is anecdotal in nature, taking the form of "case studies" gleaned from others' "therapeutic" experience.

Like other leaders within Exodus-affiliated ministries, the leaders of the Portland Fellowship group at the time I participated in it gave particular attention to the notion that homosexual people "suffer" from "insecure" gender identity, and to Moberly's advocacy of "restorative therapy," in which attempts are made to offer homosexual people opportunities for forging non-sexualized same-sex friendships to address their sense of a wounded relationship with the same-sex parent. On that basis, members who were identified as particularly serious about their efforts to "change" were offered the opportunity to enter into a dorm-like living arrangement at the house in which the Portland Fellowship was based, where they could forge "non-sexualized" same-sex friendships under the scrutiny of ministry associates. We were also encouraged to forge such friendships within our home churches. Attempts were made to form basketball and other sports activities for male participants, I suppose under the theory that these might reinforce our sense of our own masculinity. (I was disinclined to participate in either the living arrangements or the sports.)

At one time, Moberly's theories made sense to me. My father had committed suicide when I was seven, so it was not difficult for me to identify the "abandonment" issue that may have produced in me a "defensive detachment."

One incident that sticks in my memory took place during one of our group meetings' question-and-answer sessions, when H. was directly asked whether he never experienced "same-sex" attractions any longer. What struck me was that H. would not deny that he did. Rather, he spoke of his commitment to his marriage, his wife and family, and spoke of his satisfaction with the sexual dimension of his relationship with his wife, which he emphasized could not and should not be isolated from other dimensions of their relationship. But, then he went on to make what struck me as a rather surprising admission: i.e., that there was a kind of excitement and passion he associated with his earlier sexual relationships with men, which he admitted could be a source of temptation, were it not for the resources of prayer, godly associations with other, supportive Christian men, a supportive church community, etc., etc.

Some years after my involvement with the Portland Fellowship, H. stepped down from his position of leadership, confessing to "inappropriate emotional involvement" with one of the men he was counseling.


While I sought out and accepted the "ministry," and the underlying psychological theories, of the Portland Fellowship, I did not feel very comfortable with many of its religious elements. It was clearly allied with a strict, evangelical Protestantism which did not jive very well with my own Anglo-Catholic upbringing and leanings. I bristled at the fairly frequent denigrating comments about liturgical and "mainline" churches, especially the Catholic church, made during the group meaning "talks," usually given by H. (During the year of my active involvement in the program, and for the following two years, I was studying for my master's degree in Sacred Scripture at Mount Angel, a Roman Catholic seminary .)

The disparity between my own traditionally Anglican understanding of Christian faith as established on the three complementary "legs" of Scripture, tradition, and reason, one the one hand, and the "sola scriptura" orientation of those most closely associated with the Portland Fellowship, on the other, made my participation often awkward. While I placed great emphasis on Moberly's psychological theories, which then seemed to jive with my own experience and with what I took to be a traditional, but non-literalist, catholic reading of scripture, the leaders of the group did not really give it a place of primary importance. For them, what ultimately mattered was their sense that the "clear meaning of scripture" condemned homosexuality (something I even then sensed was not so simple: "homosexuality," according to our modern understanding, was simply unknown to the authors of the Bible). I remember several occasions when leaders and other participants affirmed that, even if Moberly's or other, similar, psychological theories were ultimately discredited, even if it were somehow established by science that homosexuality was rooted in nature, not nurture, it would not change for them their basic understanding, which was that the Bible states unambiguously that homosexual behavior is sinful, that the Bible is inerrant (as an Anglo-Catholic, the language of "inerrancy" never made much sense to me, though neither did the alternative formulation that the Bible could be "in error"), that a homosexual orientation was therefore disordered, and that a merciful God could not fail to offer people the recourses necessary to avoid falling into sin.

For the group leaders, the primary such recourses were clearly prayer, mutual support, and the faith necessary to endure and resist temptation. If certain psychological theories offered workable therapeutic measures, then those were to be employed. But, if the theories and their resulting methods of "therapy" failed, that did not change the basic conviction that homosexual acts were revealed by the Bible to be sinful and that, as such, unless repented of, they emperilled ones salvation. Thus, while the Fellowship offered opportunities for private counseling and "therapeutic" measures such as "gender-appropriate" activities in fellowship with others of ones gender, and "supportive" communal living arrangements, these were not required, and were not given primary emphasis.

The primary emphasis was on the "program," a six-month-long sequence of weekly large-group sessions. Those were structured much like an evangelical Protestant service of worship, beginning with announcements; an opening prayer led, usually, by H.; half an hour of singing contemporary "praise songs" (H. played the guitar); a half-hour indoctrinating sermon by H.; time for "testimonies" by participants; concluding prayer; then, a half-hour in which we broke into smaller groups of about ten people each, mediated by a small-group leader who had "graduated" from the program, working through the "steps" of a workbook written by Randy Thomas. The latter was loosely patterned on the AA twelve-step program.

It seemed to be understood by H. and other leaders that, at the beginning of the program, some participants would be ambivalent, and might continue to maintain friendships and other "ties to the gay community." Over the course of the program, increasing emphasis was placed during sermons and talks on the need for participants to cut these ties, to "make a commitment" and live a life of "consistency." At some point, those who were known not to have done so were "counseled," and if this did not result in changed behaviors, were quietly asked to leave the program.

I found it odd that participants were not encouraged to repeat this program after it concluded at the end of six months. Rather, we were taught that we had to resist the impulse to become too "dependent" on the group, and that, at the end of six months, we should transfer our focus of energy to participation in the life of our local congregation. At the time I was involved, at the request of myself and several participants, we were somewhat reluctantly allowed to meet at the Fellowship house for a subsequent series of weekly small-group Bible studies. But, this was regarded as experimental, and at the end of several months, the leaders of the Fellowship made the decision that the group was to be disbanded. I don't believe the experiment was allowed to repeat under the auspices of the Portland Fellowship.

The underlying assumptions to all this seemed to be that anyone engaged in an "actively homosexual lifestyle" must not be sufficiently "churched." The Portland Fellowship, whose leaders referred to it as a "parachurch ministry," seemed to regard itself as a kind of "half-way house" for full entry into the church, and full conversion, which was best supported through full participation in the church, was regarded as the best and, apparently, sufficient "treatment" for homosexuality. This added to my sense of awkwardness, as I did not feel the least bit "unchurched." It is also struck me as odd that a number of other participants made it clear that they had been raised in the church, and grew up regarding it as the primary context and force in their lives, after their biological family.

Needless to say, the Portland Fellowship, like all ex-gay ministries, does not keep a record of the "success rate" of its "graduates." If it had, I suppose it would have thought it had found in me something close to a success story. For twelve years, I aped an heterosexual existence. Like, I suspect, many others, I kept my same-sex desires confined to furtive, secretive experiences. In my case, these did not include sex with other men. For others, they did, and even resulted in disastrous media exposure. I recall one man, in particular, John Paulk, who visited with our group on several occasions, and who had gone through an ex-gay ministry (I'm not sure if it was the Portland Fellowship or some other) prior to my involvement, and was held up as something of a hero for having gone on several nationally syndicated talk shows with his wife to talk about their "liberation" from homosexuality. He became something of a public representative for the success of ex-gay ministries, later served as chairman of Exodus International, and was on the board of Focus on the Family. He had been a drag queen, and his wife, a "butch" lesbian, but at the time I met him, they were the embodiment of the conservative Christian couple. Except, in 2000, years after my involvement came to an end, he was caught on camera leaving a gay bar in Washington, DC.

My small group leader got married shortly after the end of our six-month large group session. Then, I found out at a six-month reunion picnic held for program "graduates" that he had been removed from all leadership with the Fellowship, and his contact with it sharply curtailed, because he admitted to having an affair with another man after his wedding. His wife divorced him.

Now, for my later involvement, beginning six years ago, and ending three years ago, with Courage, the Roman Catholic ministry to gays seeking to toe the line on the official Catholic teachings against homosexual "behavior":

The group was founded by Fr. John Harvey, a Catholic priest, in response to the perceived needs of several homosexual men under his pastoral care. Harvey was concerned about the social isolation of these men, and believed they needed a support group. He was concerned that the only "ex-gay" ministries available were evangelical Protestant, and often anti-Catholic in their orientation.

He also had philosophical/theological differences with these groups. Official Roman Catholic teaching about homosexuality is somewhat more respectful of secular learning, including the scientific consensus on the origins of homosexuality. Courage is thus unwilling to affirm unwaveringly that people can "change" from homosexual to heterosexual orientation. It contends that this may be possible for some, but not for all, and indeed, not for a great many. Thus, strictly speaking, it is not an "ex-gay" group. However, it affirms the "traditional" teaching that homosexuality behavior is sinful, and that the homosexual "condition," therefore, while not strictly speaking sinful or requiring repentance, is "innately disordered," inasmuch as it involves a "predisposition" toward sinful acts.

Participants are encouraged to regard their homosexuality as a cross to be born, and to embrace the inherent struggle and suffering involved in keeping chaste (either celibate, or confining sexual expression to a "heterosexual" marriage) as a participation in the sufferings of Christ, something to be offered up to God "in communion with Christ's sufferings." A lot of the talk during meetings consisted of drearily repetitive laments about participants' failures to "keep chaste."

The group met at The University of Dallas. Participants, who came from throughout the metroplex, were never very numerous; the numbers varied from as many as fourteen, to as few as two or three at a meeting. Meetings were loosely structured, sometimes involving a "study," sometimes just "conversational fellowship," usually under the supervision of a priest from the Dallas diocese--a genuinely caring, if (I would now argue) misguided man--who volunteered to be the spiritual pastor of the group, with his bishop's consent. (In most Courage groups, the priest/pastor is either straight, or does not address the question of his own sexual orientation. The priest/pastor must, of course, embrace the discipline of celibacy.) One of the complaints often heard at meetings from the priest and Roman Catholic participants was that, while Courage was the only officially sponsored Catholic ministry to gay people, it enjoyed at best spotty support among Roman Catholic clergy. The Fort Worth diocese showed a remarkable lack of enthusiasm about including a link to the ministry on its official web pages, though it had, at one time, given such exposure to Dignity, the pro-gay, non-officially-sanctioned ministry.

To me, at one time, the official Roman Catholic position seemed a more humane, more humanistic and enlightened approach to dealing with homosexuality. Now, it strikes me as cruel, inasmuch as it seeks to divide ones homosexual "behavior" from ones nature. As Bishop V G Robinson has recently pointed out in a wonderful talk given at the University of the South (http://www.sewanee.edu/gsa/talks/vgr_041407), such a division between ones nature and ones behavior is ultimately incoherent, and the distinction between "sinful" and "innately disordered" is really straining at gnats.


As Bishop Robinson puts it, calling someone "innately disordered" is not particularly compassionate. It's hateful. And, as I recall, even in Fr. Harvey's writings, this hatefulness occasionally breaks through. For all his protestations of compassion, when he generalizes about the psychological instability and immaturity he believes to be typical of, and innate to, gay people, he sounds like pretty much any other bigot. Occasionally, our priest/pastor would raise those ideas as a subject for discussion, and it always made me uncomfortable, as I did not recognize most gay peopleI knew--including the men in the group, whom I admired and cared about--as especially more unstable or immature than heterosexuals, at least in areas of their life beyond their conflicted take on their own sexuality.

What is interesting about Courage is that, given its unwillingness to embrace fully an "inerrancy" doctrine in respect to Scripture, or a "nurture, not nature" position on the origins of homosexuality, it must fall back more squarely on the argument that homosexuality is sinful simply because a majority within the church holds it to be so. (Of course, they would argue that the church always had held this to be the case, but this falls afoul of the evidence that what we now understand by "homosexuality" was simply unrecognized prior to about 130 years ago.)

I recall once a young man training to be a doctor attended several of our meetings. He was raised Catholic, and still attended Mass regularly, but was very ambivalent about the Church's teachings, and he challenged us by referring to his extensive reading on the medical and psychological studies contesting the notion that homosexuality was a primarily a result of social conditioning or parental influence. Our priest and several participants affirmed that, even if sexuality were shown to have nothing to do with such conditioning or influence, this would not change their minds or the doctrine of the church. I disagreed, and declared that, while I had "placed my bets" on Moberly's theory of the psychosexual genesis of homosexuality, I believed there was no incontrovertible proof on either side. I declared that, if I were to cease to believe that homosexuality was the result of a kind of psychological "wound," I would have to admit that I had simply gotten my take on homosexuality wrong, in spite of the implications this would have about the life I had constructed for myself.

Those words proved to be prophetic. At the time, though, I did not feel unduly troubled by this position, as it seemed to me that there was no way convincing "evidence" could be presented to settle the matter. In the absence of incontrovertible proof, one had to simply "place ones bets," and live with consequences of that choice.

What I failed to understand is that, one of the consequences of my particular side of the "wager," was that I was denying the force and necessity of real, down-in-the-marrow love. Luckily, the woman to whom I was married refused to accept the consequences of that denial. For that part of the story, see the letter below.

I guess the as yet unanswered question my story begs is, What in the world was I thinking? Frankly, I don't have a complete answer. Part of what led me down the path I chose, I suppose, was a reluctance to accept the challenges of living as the object of pervasive bigotry and prejudice. I thought I was, when it came to prejudice, a liberal. But, objecting to the oppression of others is a far different thing than accepting the fact that one is oneself a member of a despised class. (Things have gotten a lot better than when I first came to understand that I was homosexual.) I was a white, middle-class American male, not raised to think of myself as a member of an oppressed or undervalued class, and with no close models of how to deal with such an eventuality.

I was lonely. I wanted to belong to a community. And, the communities of which I was aware, of which I had thought myself to be a member, sent strong signals that they rejected homosexuals. At the time, this seemed to include my family.

At some level, my path was directed by a kind of false optimism and idealism, and by a degree of egotism not, unfortunately, especially unusual; I simply found it difficult to accept that a majority of people could be so unjust as to reject me out of senseless bigotry.

Last, but far from least, was the effect on me of our culture's pervasive misogyny. I would have told you, even during my involvement with these groups, that I rejected misogyny, and would have even acknowledged that the hatred of gays, which I believed I rejected, was rooted in misogyny. Gay men have long been perceived as more disturbing than lesbians, "passive" and "effeminate" gay men as more objectionable than masculine ones, and I believe this is rooted in disgust at the notion of men willing to forgo male "superiority" by "acting like women." But, I believe I have been prone to underestimate, like most members of our society, the degree to which misogyny has distorted for millenia our past and present culture.

April 18, 2007. A contribution to the "listening process" in the Anglican Communion

I recently received a message soliciting contributions to the the communion-wide "listening process" concerning questions of the Church's stance toward gay and lesbian people.

Like most Anglicans, I cherish the nature of the Church as communion, and understand that this entails a responsibility to act in consideration of those within the Church with whom I disagree. Surely, it is incumbent on each of us to do what we can to help clear away the confusion that separates us from those with whom we are called to be in greater unity of life and spirit.

I believe the sharing of our stories can serve the cause of strengthening the bonds of communion between us, but only if those stories are told honestly, and in relation to the larger Story which embraces us all—the Gospel as passed down in the Tradition. It is in relation to that understanding that I wish to share some of my story with those engaged in the listening process:

I was baptized as a child in the Episcopal Church, and remained a member until approximately one and one-half years ago, when my partner and I joined a local congregation of the United Church of Christ, for reasons I will explain below. Though I have had to leave the Episcopal Church in order to find a congregation which allows my partner, daughters and myself to participate more fully in the life of the Church, I still consider myself an Anglican.

My family participated in our local Episcopal parish until my early teenage years, when my widowed mother stopped taking us to church. In my high school and college years, I considered myself an atheist; on rationalist grounds, I rejected (and misunderstood) many of the claims of the Church. By my senior year in college, though, I had come to realize that the logical consequence of my rationalist and skeptical principles was complete nihilism. At the emotional level, my rationalist and skeptical leanings had produced a profound sense of anomie, and a good deal of depression. My classes in literature, philosophy, and interpretive cultural studies brought about a renewed appreciation for the power of symbolic traditions to communicate vital truths.

During the year after I graduated from college, I continued this re-evaluation through intensive reading. This brought me to a renewed interest in the necessity and importance of cultural tradition, and specifically, in the Scriptures and Western religious literature as vehicles of wisdom and insight. I began attending the Eucharist at a nearby Episcopal church, was overwhelmed by the beauty and significance of the Liturgy (as I had been as a child), and joined an “inquirers’” class, which led to my decision to be confirmed.

This reappraisal of the respect due to the cultural and religious tradition had a profound impact on my understanding of my sexual orientation. I had identified myself as gay during my junior year of high school (this came as a discovery, not a decision; my sexual attractions had always been toward males). From very early on, I had rejected the notion that my orientation was innately wicked or shameful. However, my new willingness to entertain the idea that much of my earlier thinking had been wrong, seemed to entail the possibility that perhaps I had been wrong, too, in my evaluation of "traditional" teachings about sexuality. So, after calling an end to the relationship in which I was involved, I decided to stop pursuing the possibility of homosexual romances altogether. I began reading works put out by Living Waters, a Christian “ex-gay” ministry, and eventually even decided to start dating women.

The first woman I asked on a date was also the last: "Julie" and I started dating regularly. Early on in the relationship, I described to her my earlier self-identification as homosexual and my ongoing “struggles” (as I then understood them) with sexual attraction toward men, but also assured her of my attraction to her. I was not totally forthright, though,—not even entirely with myself—about the fact that my affectional and erotic attraction to her was not nearly as strong as it continued to be toward men. After six months of dating, I proposed, and we remained engaged for a year before marrying.

During the year of our engagement, I went through a six-month group program run by the Portland Fellowship, an “ex-gay” ministry associated with the Living Waters ministry, followed by a six-month small group study with men who had “graduated” from that program.

"Julie" and I remained married for eleven years. During the marriage, I did not delude myself into thinking that I had “overcome” my sexual orientation toward men, but I did not have sexual relations outside the marriage, beyond solitary fantasies. Those however, remained vivid and were a constant source of temptation. I was aware that I was not, and never had been, passionately attracted to "Julie," but I rationalized this by arguing (mostly with myself) that marriages are built more on commitment and faithfulness than on fleeting passions. I did my best to quell persistent doubts about whether I had not “taken the easy way out” in order to escape from the tensions of living as a gay person in a still largely disapproving world.

Our marriage was not marked by remarkable strife until the last year, when "Julie" asked for a divorce, and said that she had long not felt satisfied in the marriage. I resisted the divorce fervently.

However, during an evening shortly before I moved out of the house, I had what struck me as a moment of epiphany: I was watching an otherwise unremarkable TV drama in which a couple—a young man and a woman—were in some sort of danger. The man invited the woman into his bed. It was not a “sex scene,” though: They sought each other out for solace. But solace is too weak a word. It was clear that somehow, in the midst of the uncertainties they faced, they “fit” with each other in a way much more significant than just finding someone to hug, but also in a manner much more significant than just sexual “gratification.” And it struck me: I had never found that sense of fit, or been able really to offer it, with any woman, and never could. But, I knew quite clearly that I had experienced moments like that with a few men, and that I still could, but only with a man. It struck me with great force what a terrible thing I had committed in misleading "Julie" and myself into thinking otherwise. And, what a terrible mistake it was to have discounted—for so many years—the importance of that factor in my life, in "Julie's" life, in human life.

Among my circle of gay and lesbian friends, I recognize several other couples who clearly have found that sense of fit with each other. Years ago, I formed a friendship with a young woman who, after a terribly abusive childhood, was saved from despair and possible suicide by the love of another woman. Some would have it that the Gospel Tradition would condemn their relationship, and tell her she would have been better to reject it. That seems to me tremendously callous, and tremendously blind to a clear example of healing and restorative love. How could such love not be a gift of God?

Subsequent to my divorce from "Julie," I re-evaluated my fears about my own sexuality, and began attending a number of social groups for gay men (chorus, book discussion, etc.), and an Episcopalian church in Dallas serving a parish made up of a majority of gay and lesbian congregants. After a year, I began dating Sam, the man with whom I now share my life. After a year of dating, during which we grew into an ever deepening love, we desired to formalize and celebrate our relationship, and had also grown concerned about the potentially negative impact on our children of the refusal of our local diocese to recognize the worth of unions such as ours. We joined a local congregation of the United Church of Christ, where, last July, we celebrated a holy union ceremony, with our new pastor officiating, and with my daughters standing up with Sam and me.

Some would criticize my and Sam's partnership, and would argue that, if I was incapable of living in heterosexual marriage, I ought to choose a life of celibacy. Tradition tells us that some people are called to that way of life, finding their sense of fit without having to experience it in the arms of another mortal. I sense strongly that that is not my case. I experience my loving relationship with Sam as a tremendous, God-given blessing. I cannot adequately express the myriad ways in which Sam's love has revealed to me something of the nature of our loving God. I cannot see in what way our love would constitute an inherent sin. But, to continue denying the importance of the gift, as I did for so many years, it seems to me, would be.

My former wife and I share custody of our daughters. "Julie" is happily remarried, and she, her new husband, "Bob," my partner, Sam, and I are friends. We frequently celebrate holidays together, along with the girls. The girls are well adjusted, and successful in school. Following our divorce, "Julie" and I arranged for both girls to receive counseling for a period of about a year to help them emotionally process the transition involved in the divorce, my "coming out" as a gay man, "Julie's" remarriage, and the inclusion of my new partner, Sam, in our household. The girls have forged a close and loving relationship with both Sam and "Bob," whom they regard as co-parents with "Julie" and me, in our separate households.

I am much happier than ever I was while trying to force myself into a heterosexual mold. Being gay is not a "life style" for me, it is simply having the freedom to be me, and not pretend to be something I am not.

I believe that some aspects of the meaning and nature of the Gospel Tradition are misunderstood by many of our fellow Christians when it comes to the issue of sexual orientation. That such a misunderstanding might exist, and might even have wide sway, should not be ruled beyond possibility. The Scriptures, themselves, provide evidence of such misunderstanding and of its correction: The stories of Ruth, Rahab, and other faithful but ethnically “foreign” women in the Hebrew scriptures bear witness of a divinely-inspired corrective to misunderstandings of the prohibitions against “foreign” influences found in Ezra, Nehemiah, Deuteronomy and other portions of the Hebrew Bible. These latter passages—which Scripture itself makes clear were misinterpreted by significant groups in Israel’s history as condemnations of the “inherent” impurity of ethnic foreigners—might be compared with those portions of the Scriptures commonly cited in defense of the position that homosexuality is innately sinful.

I believe that the significance of these latter passages has similarly been misunderstood. Whatever the writer of Leviticus is condemning when speaking of the “abomination” of a woman lying with another woman, or of a man with a man, that writer clearly did not have in mind the reality of the relationship between the two women I described above. And, whatever image of evil occurred to St. Paul when he asserted that arsenokoietai will be barred from the Kingdom of Heaven, I doubt that he had men truly in love, such as Sam and me, in mind.