No on Proposition 8

At times, I’ve felt nostalgic while writing about my seminary days and remembering all the friendships and good times I experienced. Then I come across story like this one and remember why I am no longer an evangelical Christian:

http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/26891725

Here’s the deal. I understand how someone could argue that Scripture prohibits gay relationships, as I used to hold that position myself. And if that is your opinion, it seems perfectly reasonable for you to refrain from gay relationships and attend a church that only recognizes marriages between people of the opposite sex. So far so good.

But I do not understand the urge to raise millions of dollars and hold prayer vigils to deprive others WHO MAY NOT SHARE YOUR BELIEFS of a right THEY ALREADY POSSESS as Californians. Do you have nothing better to pray for or spend your money on? Like, say, starving multitudes, hurricane victims, or REO Speedwagon tickets?

Oh, I know—gay unions undermine “real” marriage, destroy the very fabric of society, blah, blah, blah. BALONEY (sorry for getting carried away with the caps here). My wife and I have been married 18 years, and in that time I’ve learned that the only thing that can undermine our relationship is the choices we make as partners.

Think about it—maybe you’ve got a gay couple living down the street. Maybe, like some friends of ours, they’ve been together for over 20 years and raised a child who now has a family of her own. Well, that couple isn’t going away. They are part of the community, and the only question is whether or not we will afford them the same rights and protections that we “straights” take for granted. If that supposedly menacing couple was going to undermine society, they would have already done it—so having the state recognize their relationship changes nothing for the rest of us but means a hell of a lot to them.

Oh, I also know—if we let gays marry, what’s next? People will start marrying dogs! I actually heard this argument recently, and frankly, this kind of “slippery slope” reasoning is laughable. When we have a significant group of folks wanting to wed their pooches, we’ll address that issue as a society (and I won’t hold my breath). The reality is that right now we have a host of friends and neighbors who are clamoring to retain the right to wed another consenting adult of their choosing. So let’s focus on that fact.

Having unburdened myself thusly, I am off to make another donation to NO ON PROP 8. Please join me!

Growing Your Hedges

My next brilliant idea was to gather a few friends who had recently gotten married and start a little men’s group. Initially, this group consisted of Jeff, a pal from church, and two fellow seminarians named Matt and Ethan.

The 4 of us began meeting weekly for breakfast, and we soon fell into a comfortable routine. Generally, one of us would begin by describing some incident during the previous week that had upset his wife, such as saying, “Could we talk about this tomorrow?” when the wife was trying to share some heartfelt concern right at bedtime. The other 3 would then remark, “Your wife doesn’t like that either, huh?” And we would all go away with a deepened understanding of our spouses’ mysterious needs.

While helpful, this strategy only took us so far, as the stories quickly began repeating themselves. To shake things up a bit, we decided to read and discuss a Christian book on marriage. The book we ultimately settled on bore the strange title of Hedges, and it promised to help husbands “affair-proof” their marriages. I now wonder why this theme struck us as a necessary or appealing one, but we eagerly began reading tips on building a union strong enough to withstand any outside temptations.

The book began with several detailed anecdotes about men who had been unfaithful despite having a strong personal faith. As I recall, all these stories followed a similar pattern, with friendly conversations and flirtations turning into emotional attachment and then, despite all efforts to resist, full-blown infidelity. I had a hard time envisioning this sequence of events playing out in my own life, as I had a tough time with just the friendly conversations part and had only dated about three women in my whole life.

Still, I tried to keep an open mind—until the book suddenly got a little weird. The author began laying out some ground-rules he had developed for himself to short-circuit the progression of infidelity, which included his commitment to never—under any circumstances—ride alone in a car with a woman who was not his wife. Upon reading this, I wished the author had included a picture of himself on the back cover. Was he some Adonis who women couldn’t keep their hands off of during a routine drive to the airport? If not, his rule seemed like overkill, and I said as much during our next breakfast gathering.

The opinions of the group on the subject were somewhat divided. Jeff and Matt agreed with the author that it was better to be safe than sorry, but Ethan showed some sympathy with my reaction. “What if it’s some 70 year-old crone?” he wondered aloud. “Don’t you have to take this on a case-by-case basis?”

This remark stirred disquieting memories of my experience at the nursing home, but I was grateful that some common sense had begun to enter the picture. And before long, we all agreed that our marriages were “hedged” enough to allow us to move on to a new book.

Marriage, Sexuality & Family

As part of our continuing preparation for marriage, Mimi and I decided to take a seminary class together on Marriage, Sexuality, and Family, thinking it would help solidify our relationship. However, the professor immediately announced that the course would be taught entirely by the students, with each of us selecting a topic of interest, researching it, and presenting our findings to the group.

On the one hand, this meant a class with minimal work. On the other hand, it meant that Mimi and I would be receiving the wisdom of our fellow students on marital issues rather than that of a professor with credentials in theology and psychology. That worried me a bit.

Once things got underway, the first presentation was on “The Six Stages of Childrearing,” with the student in charge presenting several case studies designed to foster group discussion. The first one described a scenario in which a pregnant couple comes to you, their minister, with questions about how love-making will affect the development of their baby. My first panicked thought was, “Do people really go to their pastors with this kind of stuff? It’s not like we’re pediatricians!”

Keeping such thoughts to myself, I tried to keep an open mind during the next presentation on “Choosing the Right Mate,” though I myself had already cleared that hurdle. But the student leading this session appeared to see himself as a friend to the lovelorn, offering advice to singles that included such helpful nuggets as “cultivate a relaxed attitude about dating” and “make yourself attractive to the opposite sex.”

And just when I thought it couldn’t get any worse, the class took a decidedly bizarre turn. One week, a male student named Marvin launched into an in-depth analysis of the pros and cons of circumcision, during which he made a statement which is seared forever into my memory. With the most earnest of expressions, he said, “Another advantage of circumcision is that it prevents the accumulation of smegma—or, as I like to call it, ‘head cheese.’”

As I like to call it? Was this a topic that came up regularly in Marvin’s life? Maybe parishioners did come to pastors with anatomically explicit questions after all. I pictured Marvin in a well-appointed church office seated across from a matronly woman. “I glad you’ve come to me with this question, Mrs. Jones,” he was saying. “Your son’s problem is nothing more than a little old-fashioned smegma. Or, as I like to call it, ‘head cheese.’”

Strange as Myron’s presentation was, we hadn’t reached the bottom of the barrel just yet. Midway through the semester, the class was treated to a graphic discussion of pornography, which came complete with handouts. These free samples prompted questions about the student’s research methods, and I could see that our professor had begun spending class periods adding up the days to his retirement.

Of course, these efforts were all well-intentioned. But I couldn’t help thinking that somewhere in Alabama, a kindly Baptist grandmother in a floral print dress was dropping 50 cents in a worn offering plate—never imagining that her contribution was, in part, subsidizing my growing knowledge of head cheese and adult cartoons.

Be It Resolved

Just as I was getting started on my career as a Southern Baptist pastor in 1995, our denomination celebrated its 150th anniversary by taking a bold step at its annual convention. Delegates ratified a resolution that officially apologized for Southern Baptist participation in the historical evils of slavery and segregation.

This laudable (if somewhat tardy) stand came to mind last week when the California Supreme Court overturned a law prohibiting same-sex marriage, almost certainly igniting a fresh battle with the religious right. No one knows when such battles will end, but I have a sneaking suspicion that sometime between now and the 300th anniversary of the Southern Baptist Convention, a new resolution will be needed that apologizes to the gay community for past sins. In anticipation of this need, I offer the following as a first draft:

---

WHEREAS, Since its founding in 1845, the Southern Baptist Convention has been an effective instrument of God in missions, evangelism, and social ministry, albeit with a few missteps along the way regarding our African-American brothers and sisters, women, and other folk like that; and

WHEREAS, The Scriptures teach that Jesus was the sort of fellow who welcomed lepers, tax collectors, and the aforementioned women into his presence with open arms (Matthew 9:10), and that he was criticized as a drunkard and friend of sinners rather than as some sort of “stuffed shirt” (Luke 7:34); and

WHEREAS, We have learned from hard experience that, on occasion, the “plain teaching” of Scripture can be used to justify some pretty lousy positions, and that it is entirely possible that Moses and the Apostle Paul did not have in mind, say, a modern, loving relationships between gay persons who just want to be recognized as a family like the rest of us; and

WHEREAS, Our relationship to our gay and lesbian brothers and sisters has been hindered by our efforts to deny them “special rights” like access to health benefits and hospital visitation privileges; and

WHEREAS, Many of our Baptist forbears made numerous “less than kind” public statements about these same brothers and sisters (to say nothing of some of the stuff we wrote on picket signs);

Be it RESOLVED, That we apologize to all gay, lesbian, and transgender people everywhere for condoning and/or perpetuating individual and systemic bigotry in our lifetime; and we genuinely repent of any bigotry of which we have been guilty, whether consciously (Psalm 19:13) or unconsciously (Leviticus 4:27).

---

Of course, I may be jumping the gun a bit here. But it never hurts to be prepared.

San Quentin Blues - Part 2

On the day that Leon was to be released from San Quentin, Mike and I drove his faded green Beetle to the prison’s front gate. Leon soon appeared with a huge smile on his face, and after giving Mike a quick hug, he placed himself confidently behind the wheel of the Volkswagen. Mike shot me a worried glance over the car’s rounded roof, then leaned down to speak through the open window.

“Hey, Leon, do you think driving is a good idea?” he asked.

“Oh sure, man. Toss me the keys—I’m taking you boys to lunch in San Francisco!”

Call me untrusting, but I had grave doubts about Leon’s possession of: (a) a valid driver’s license; or (b) the money to spring for lunch. Still, I followed Mike’s lead and got in the car. In moments, Leon had sped across the Golden Gate Bridge and pulled up in front of a seedy pizza joint. Once inside, Leon immediately ordered a large pitcher of beer and consumed its contents in approximately 18 seconds. Leon promptly ordered a second pitcher, but just before it was set on our table, he retired to the restroom to address needs created by pitcher #1. In his absence, Mike fixed me with a determined stare.

“We can’t let Leon have any more beer, bro. There’s no telling what he’ll do if he gets drunk.”

While I agreed with Mike’s assessment, I didn’t see how we could stop Leon from downing this second pitcher and said as much.

“We’re going to drink it,” Mike said with an eerie calm. “You and I are going to drink all this beer before Leon gets back.”

Well, this was a full-blown moral crisis. Golden Gate Seminary had a strict ban on the consumption of alcohol, so while Mike’s plan had a certain allure, how could I go along with it? My mind was racing, but Mike wasn’t finished.

“I have to drive home, so you’ll need to do most of the drinking.”

By the time Leon returned from relieving himself and chatting with a few other patrons, the pitcher was almost empty and my head was starting to spin. It was still spinning when we dropped Leon off at a friend’s apartment and drove back across the Golden Gate Bridge.

“You did the right thing, Steve,” Mike said as he eased the ancient Beetle onto the Seminary Drive off-ramp. “There was no other way once that second pitcher came out.”

I nodded, still unsure how to feel.

“But just the same,” Mike continued, “You’d better hit the mouthwash as soon as we get back to the dorm.”

The Survey Says

The Christian Ethics class I took during my first year at seminary was an eye opener. Going in, I expected help with moral quandaries like, say, R-rated movies (some believers think they’re okay as long as the violence and nudity are essential to the plot and not just stuck in there for titillation). But the course covered a list of social ills like divorce, abortion, AIDS, and hunger that were, perhaps, more pressing.

Along the way, we reviewed a report by a Christian pollster named George Barna who had surveyed ordinary Americans about some of the very issues we were studying. Barna’s findings were quite disturbing, because they showed virtually no difference between the moral behaviors of Christians and nonChristians (a trend that has apparently continued).

Various explanations were offered for these results, and the class was evenly divided between two possibilities (my own suggestion of "Mickey Mouse" polling techniques got little traction): (1) nominal believers who did not have a genuine relationship with Jesus were skewing the results on the Christian side; (2) pastors had “gone soft” and stopped taking firm stands on doctrinal and moral issues.

Option 1 struck me as a bit too convenient. Don’t like the results? Just redefine "Christian" to match the group of people who are conforming to expectations! And Option 2 gave me a queasy feeling. Was I supposed to spend my career haranguing people about their lax morals? No thanks. So I continued to push the Mickey Mouse theory.

These days I prefer the simplest explanation of all: people are people. And faith of any kind does not immunize us from human struggles and failings. Even scripture tells us that the righteous fall seven times and rise again (Proverbs 24:16), so maybe the idea is to dust yourself off and start over instead of keeping your nose clean in the first place.

Of course, seven stumbles do wreck the poll numbers, so if Barna calls, just pretend you don’t speak English or something.

Armed & Dangerous

In the men’s dorm at Golden Gate Seminary, my first roommate was a clean-cut young man from Washington state who I will call "Ernie." At first, Ernie seemed overly pious, often dropping phrases like "Praise the Lord" and "God willing" into conversations. However, another side of Ernie was revealed one day when he pulled several firearms out of his closet and began handling them lovingly. "Are you a hunter?" I asked warily, as Ernie slid a .380 Beretta into a shoulder holster.

"No," he replied, "but I do believe in self-defense."

As Ernie sighted down the barrel of a 12-gauge riot gun, I gently suggested that, in the unlikely event a criminal mastermind decided to steal our ancient microwave, peppering him with small arms fire was not the most Christian of responses.

Ernie was ready for that one, countering, "Before he was arrested, Jesus told the disciples to buy swords, so why can’t a Christian have weapons?"

"But Jesus also told Peter to put his sword away when he actually started to use it!" I insisted, as Ernie shrugged and returned to his arsenal.

Such are the limits of biblical authority. At the end of the day, you still have to choose which verses to emphasize, which interpretations to follow. It's tough to get away from the final authority of human judgement. And if you run across a man who's packing a .380, hope he judges well.