Really Listening
Acts 11:1-18
Psalm 148
Revelation 21:1-6
John 13: 31-35
A few weeks ago, a former student of mine and I took a walk around town to talk about our very different spiritual beliefs. I approached her because she had hurt some GLBT students in conversations about her faith; she admitted immediately as we started walking that her goal was to convince them that they were not living the life they should be by living as “out” GLBT people. Our conversation was not an easy conversation, to say the least, but in the end, we hugged, and she agreed to be more careful about how she approaches GLBT people about her faith, and I agreed to try to be more accepting of the Evangelicals I encounter, working to treat them with love instead of anger. We both feel equally strongly that we are right about our reading of the bible; we both feel equally strongly that we have the truth about what Jesus’ message means in relation to GLBT people.
At one point, we talked about what made us each so sure we were right, and how we could come to such different conclusions. She accused me of using the bible for my own purposes; of course, it would be convenient for me, since I am a lesbian, to decide that God thinks it’s OK for me to be a lesbian as long as I live a life committed to social justice. It’s convenient for her to believe that it’s not OK to be GLBT; this gives her a focus for her ministry and allows her to be certain her own sexual orientation is OK with God.
We started out by talking about the bible and its historical context, but in the end we ended up admitting to each other that it’s not only about the texts, but also about our private prayers, our own deep seeking for truth. She said to me, “Do you believe you could change your mind? Because I believe God changes people every day.” I said, “Well, do you believe you could change your mind?” She said yes. I have to give her credit for this; I am so certain of the messages I’ve received along the way about my sexuality that I have no doubt that I am right about what I believe on this issue, and ultimately, on most social issues (though there are some more private/personal matters over which I struggle regularly and for which I do not see a clear-cut answer).
So when I encountered the story of St. Peter’s dream of the unclean animals today, I was struck most by the line, “Who was I to think I could oppose God?” St. Peter dreamed that a large sheet of “unclean” animals was lowered before him, and that God told him to kill and eat. He refused, saying he would not eat anything unclean, but God persisted, saying, “Do not call anything unclean that God has made clean.” In this way, he knew he was supposed to spread the gospel to Gentiles. When he explained his dream to those who opposed his new ministry, he ended with the question, “Who was I to think I could oppose God?”
Here is a story about a man who listened to God’s voice rather than listening to the teachings of his faith community. To me, the story is so clearly about opening the gates, the doors, and our arms to people who don’t fit the norm, a story about listening to the message God gives each of us personally about what work we should do in the world. Of course, my student would probably tell me I am reading this story for my own purposes, using it to justify what she calls my “lifestyle.” When I look at the world through her eyes, I can understand why she thinks this. I think the same thing—that she and people like her are using the Bible for their own purposes, because certain elements of our current culture—like families that don’t fit the norm--are threatening to them for some reason.
Lifestyle is an interesting word. Many GLBT people find it offensive. We don’t live a cohesive “lifestyle,” because our lives are all very different. Right now I’m a single, celibate lesbian living in a small, rural town in the process of adopting a child. My “lifestyle” has more to do, at this time of year, with reviewing adoption profiles and grading final papers and writing out graduation notes than it does with anything related to my sexual orientation. I will be hosting the end-of-year GLBT student celebration at my home this week, but my work with GLBT students has more to do with being an advocate for equal rights for all people and wanting to help GLBT students survive their coming out process and thrive in a homophobic world—i.e., my work with them has very little to do with me.
Yes, I think I have a biblical and moral responsibility to do the work I do. But if someone asked me what my “lifestyle” was like, would I mention that I am committed to working for social justice in everything I do, and that I think about how I spend my time in terms of what activities will best sustain me for that work and best support that? Would I mention that I am a lesbian? Probably not. Probably I’d mention more mundane things, like grading papers and going to meetings and reading/writing during my free time and working toward parenthood. Even when I lived with my partner, I might have mentioned eating dinner together, or going away for the weekend, but probably not specifically that I was a lesbian--only that I had a companion whose gender was the same as mine. My student, however, would probably talk about what she had done to spread her faith. We both think of our lives as being infused with our faith, but we live this out in very different ways.
I learned recently that my old church community conducted a “staw poll” one Sunday and decided not to move forward with the open and affirming process. The process that was described to me seemed incredibly bizarre and based in paranoia. I can’t say for sure that this is what happened, as I was not there, but the process went like this: four Sundays were designated as Sundays when a straw poll might be taken. On each of these Sundays, someone drew a card from a cup that included three white cards and one orange card. On the Sunday that the orange card was drawn, a vote was taken. Apparently this was meant to ensure that neither group would fill the church with members on their side on the day the card was drawn—that the service that day would hold a typical weekly crowd. To me, this method speaks volumes to just how divided our society is on this issue, and just how paranoid we have become about the people on “the other side.”
I don’t want to make too much of my conversation with my former student, because ultimately, neither of us changed our minds after talking to the other. But we talked. And I think we listened to each other, as deeply as we could. We probably hurt each other in the process—I know I was hurt by some of the things she said that felt like personal attacks—but we talked, ultimately, more honestly, I think, than any two people on opposite sides of the issue had talked in my former church. Perhaps I am naïve to think this, but I have to believe that taking the time to engage has got to matter in the long run, that this willingness itself is transformative even if the result is not. And I thank her for taking me up on my invitation and going for that walk with me.
Psalm 148
Revelation 21:1-6
John 13: 31-35
A few weeks ago, a former student of mine and I took a walk around town to talk about our very different spiritual beliefs. I approached her because she had hurt some GLBT students in conversations about her faith; she admitted immediately as we started walking that her goal was to convince them that they were not living the life they should be by living as “out” GLBT people. Our conversation was not an easy conversation, to say the least, but in the end, we hugged, and she agreed to be more careful about how she approaches GLBT people about her faith, and I agreed to try to be more accepting of the Evangelicals I encounter, working to treat them with love instead of anger. We both feel equally strongly that we are right about our reading of the bible; we both feel equally strongly that we have the truth about what Jesus’ message means in relation to GLBT people.
At one point, we talked about what made us each so sure we were right, and how we could come to such different conclusions. She accused me of using the bible for my own purposes; of course, it would be convenient for me, since I am a lesbian, to decide that God thinks it’s OK for me to be a lesbian as long as I live a life committed to social justice. It’s convenient for her to believe that it’s not OK to be GLBT; this gives her a focus for her ministry and allows her to be certain her own sexual orientation is OK with God.
We started out by talking about the bible and its historical context, but in the end we ended up admitting to each other that it’s not only about the texts, but also about our private prayers, our own deep seeking for truth. She said to me, “Do you believe you could change your mind? Because I believe God changes people every day.” I said, “Well, do you believe you could change your mind?” She said yes. I have to give her credit for this; I am so certain of the messages I’ve received along the way about my sexuality that I have no doubt that I am right about what I believe on this issue, and ultimately, on most social issues (though there are some more private/personal matters over which I struggle regularly and for which I do not see a clear-cut answer).
So when I encountered the story of St. Peter’s dream of the unclean animals today, I was struck most by the line, “Who was I to think I could oppose God?” St. Peter dreamed that a large sheet of “unclean” animals was lowered before him, and that God told him to kill and eat. He refused, saying he would not eat anything unclean, but God persisted, saying, “Do not call anything unclean that God has made clean.” In this way, he knew he was supposed to spread the gospel to Gentiles. When he explained his dream to those who opposed his new ministry, he ended with the question, “Who was I to think I could oppose God?”
Here is a story about a man who listened to God’s voice rather than listening to the teachings of his faith community. To me, the story is so clearly about opening the gates, the doors, and our arms to people who don’t fit the norm, a story about listening to the message God gives each of us personally about what work we should do in the world. Of course, my student would probably tell me I am reading this story for my own purposes, using it to justify what she calls my “lifestyle.” When I look at the world through her eyes, I can understand why she thinks this. I think the same thing—that she and people like her are using the Bible for their own purposes, because certain elements of our current culture—like families that don’t fit the norm--are threatening to them for some reason.
Lifestyle is an interesting word. Many GLBT people find it offensive. We don’t live a cohesive “lifestyle,” because our lives are all very different. Right now I’m a single, celibate lesbian living in a small, rural town in the process of adopting a child. My “lifestyle” has more to do, at this time of year, with reviewing adoption profiles and grading final papers and writing out graduation notes than it does with anything related to my sexual orientation. I will be hosting the end-of-year GLBT student celebration at my home this week, but my work with GLBT students has more to do with being an advocate for equal rights for all people and wanting to help GLBT students survive their coming out process and thrive in a homophobic world—i.e., my work with them has very little to do with me.
Yes, I think I have a biblical and moral responsibility to do the work I do. But if someone asked me what my “lifestyle” was like, would I mention that I am committed to working for social justice in everything I do, and that I think about how I spend my time in terms of what activities will best sustain me for that work and best support that? Would I mention that I am a lesbian? Probably not. Probably I’d mention more mundane things, like grading papers and going to meetings and reading/writing during my free time and working toward parenthood. Even when I lived with my partner, I might have mentioned eating dinner together, or going away for the weekend, but probably not specifically that I was a lesbian--only that I had a companion whose gender was the same as mine. My student, however, would probably talk about what she had done to spread her faith. We both think of our lives as being infused with our faith, but we live this out in very different ways.
I learned recently that my old church community conducted a “staw poll” one Sunday and decided not to move forward with the open and affirming process. The process that was described to me seemed incredibly bizarre and based in paranoia. I can’t say for sure that this is what happened, as I was not there, but the process went like this: four Sundays were designated as Sundays when a straw poll might be taken. On each of these Sundays, someone drew a card from a cup that included three white cards and one orange card. On the Sunday that the orange card was drawn, a vote was taken. Apparently this was meant to ensure that neither group would fill the church with members on their side on the day the card was drawn—that the service that day would hold a typical weekly crowd. To me, this method speaks volumes to just how divided our society is on this issue, and just how paranoid we have become about the people on “the other side.”
I don’t want to make too much of my conversation with my former student, because ultimately, neither of us changed our minds after talking to the other. But we talked. And I think we listened to each other, as deeply as we could. We probably hurt each other in the process—I know I was hurt by some of the things she said that felt like personal attacks—but we talked, ultimately, more honestly, I think, than any two people on opposite sides of the issue had talked in my former church. Perhaps I am naïve to think this, but I have to believe that taking the time to engage has got to matter in the long run, that this willingness itself is transformative even if the result is not. And I thank her for taking me up on my invitation and going for that walk with me.
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