Pathways Church, A Unitarian Universalist Congregation in Southlake, Texas
The Rev. Kathryn A Schmitz
May 18, 2008
Our lives are to be used and thus to be lived as fully as possible,
and truly it seems that we are never so alive as when we concern ourselves with other people.
Harry Chapin, American Singer and Song Writer,
Meditation The Poignancy of Living in these Days
from In the Holy Quiet of This Hour: A Mediation Manual by Richard S. Gilbert
Readings And Tango Makes Three, by Peter Parnell, Justin Richardson
Special Music Standing on the Side of Love, by Jason Shelton, #1014 in Singing the Journey
Sermon Summary: Serving in Massachusetts, Rev. Kathy was active in the struggle for equal marriage rights in the years leading up to the legal recognition of same-sex marriage. Since that recognition, 4 years ago this weekend, she has had the honor of officiating at 20 legal weddings for same-sex couples. This morning she shares her reflections on that journey and on why full marriage equality is a matter of importance for spiritual communities.
Sermon:
At this time last year, I had just made a commitment to move to Texas. I had been planning to leave my long time home of Massachusetts for the better part of the year. While I was excited about the adventure ahead, I had one major frustration.
The marriage equality debate was on-going. It had been three years since same-sex marriage began to be legally recognized in the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, May 17, 2004 (Yesterday, by the way was the fourth anniversary). But we had not yet defeated the most recent attack – an attempt to alter the constitution to take that recognition away. I struggled with the feeling that it just wasn’t right to leave with the work unfinished.
The next month, in June, the Constitutional Convention would meet once again. This body, made up of state senators and representative, would have to approve the proposed anti-equality amendment by a mere 25% to put it on the ballot in a general election. We knew the votes of all the legislators on either side. We knew who was on the fence. And we knew whose votes we needed to change.
With colleagues, neighbors, and members of the congregation, I lobbied.
We wrote letters and emails. We made calls and visit.
Don’t write discrimination into our constitution.
Can you really look your gay brother-in-law in the eye and vote for this amendment?
Let’s end this debate and move on to more important matter, like health care, education, and housing.
Don’t you want to be on the right side of history?
We were so close and yet it didn’t seem we could get quite the number of votes we needed.
My heart ached as I thought about the possibility of the question going to ballot.
I wasn’t really concerned that the amendment would pass in a general election.
Three years of marriage equality had done much more than create justice for my lesbian and gay sisters and brother. It had shown, to anyone who cared to notice, that marriage equality was no threat to the institution of marriage. If anything, it strengthened it. There was an increased awareness of the rights and responsibilities that come with marriage – rights and responsibilities previously taken for granted by many. Marriage equality was no threat to marriage and nearly everyone had been touched by it. So many people had a family member, a neighbor, or a coworker, whose rights they would be taking away if the amendment passed. Sometimes politics are personal. Our hearts and minds are changed when we see the faces of the people affected by the public rhetoric.
And that’s was I was really afraid of as we approached the convention. The Rhetoric. Having lived with marriage equality, I truly did not believe the people of Massachusetts would turn back the clock. But, on the way to a general election the rhetoric would have escalated. And my heart broke. I thought about the children with two moms or two dads who would be exposed to often hateful rhetoric that questioned the legitimacy of their family. I imagined the experience of gay and questioning teenagers, already at an elevated risk for suicide, as they watched ad after ad questioning the legitimacy of their very being.
As a minister who, as an expression of my faith, had blessed those families, dedicated their children, and counseled those teens, I was angry and sad. Very sad.
Clergy on the other side of this debate justified their position. They said they were saving people from judgment and eternal suffering.
I have never presumed to know the mind of God and what might, or might not, happen after we die. Still, I have trouble imagining that a loving God would condemn someone to eternal suffering for the crime of having loved another person – for the crime of wanting to be in a committed relationship with that person.
Yes, I doubted the other clergies’ claims of eternal suffering. But there was one thing I did not doubt about suffering. People who are denied recognition of who they are, and who they love, suffer. And I knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt that if this question went to a general vote, people I cared for would suffer.
As a minister and person of faith, I am called to decrease the suffering in the world.
Sometimes politics are deeply spiritual. We are moved to action by our deepest understanding of humanity and of love.
I wanted that amendment to fail.
On June 14 of last year, the Coming of Age group from Pathways Church visited the offices of the Unitarian Universalist Association in Boston. The UUA offices are adjacent to the Massachusetts State House. And so they saw at least some of the scene I am about to describe. For their visit took place on the day of the Constitutional Convention.
Early that morning, I gathered with my interfaith colleagues from a stunning array of denominations. We gathered across the Boston Common from the State House, at St. Paul’s, the Episcopal Cathedral for the Dioceses of Boston. The Bishop was our host. We prayed, heard inspirational speakers, and sang.
I can’t be sure exactly who was there that day, but the Massachusetts Declaration of Religious Support for the Freedom of Same-Gender Couples to Marry was signed by people representing 23 faith traditions including:
Episcopal, Roman Catholic and other Catholics,
Presbyterian, United Methodist, Lutheran,
American Baptist, Southern Baptist
Buddhist, Hindu, Jewish, Pagan
Disciples of Christ, Society of Friends, United Church of Christ
Metropolitan Community Church, Ethical Cultural Society, Swedenborgian
And of course, Unitarian Universalist, lots of Unitarian Universalists
As a member of the Unitarian Universalist clergy, I had a lot of support for the stand I took, for standing on the side of love (title of song before the sermon). Some of my colleagues in other faith traditions were working within systems that were very resistant to change. It was not easy for them. I admired their commitment and their courage.
After our rally, we processed in our clerical garb (I do in fact have a collar I wear on such occasions, and I also wore this stole). We carried signs and sang. Hundreds of us. Across the Boston Common and up the steps that that would place us in the midst of the rally already going on in front of the State House.
I was later told that, for the people already there, it was amazing to see this long line of clergy emerge onto the scene. It was a dramatic counter to the claim of the other side that they represented the religious voice. We were a witness that people of faith, lots of them, support marriage equality.
Hours later, my partner, Charlie, and I sat in the crowded auditorium that held the overflow from the house chambers where the convention was taking place. It was time for the vote. We still did not know which way it would go. The large screen showed us what was taking place in the chambers. As soon as the results of the vote were displayed we knew we had prevailed. And the crowd went wild.
I turned to look at the couple from my congregation that was sitting behind us. I had done their service of holy union years before and was scheduled to make their marriage legal before I left the Commonwealth. I was filled with joy. I knew their rights were secure and so were the rights of the other 19 same-sex couples whose marriage licenses I had had the honor to signed. I could move on.
Being a short timer in Texas, I regret that I have not been involved in the struggle here.
But I tell this story in the hopes that, in the years ahead, some of you will choose to be part of the on-going march toward full equality.
Some of you have told me that Texas is different from Massachusetts. Well, yes, it is.
But, not as different as you think. And not in all the ways you think.
Half of the population of Massachusetts identifies as Catholic. And the Roman Catholic Church was active in its campaign against marriage equality. Their voices often seemed louder and better organized. Over and over again, newspapers would report that religious people were against equality. Over and over again we would say: some religious people are for equality. It was important to have the liberal religious voice in the conversation.
At one point, members of the congregation I was serving wanted to take a public stand in support of equal marriage. An influential and well-spoken member of the congregation did not believe, on principle, that congregations should take public stands. During the open debate at their congregational meeting, this influential member shared his concerns. He was listened to with respect. However, it was countered, on this matter, it is important to have religious institutions take a stand. Our silence would be seen as complicity. The forces against equality had framed it as a religious issue and so we must speak. The vote was overwhelmingly for taking a stand for equal marriage. There were no votes against. The influential member, who, by the way was an outspoken supporter of marriage equality, simply abstained. Having been heard, he respected the will of the group. It is important for the liberal religious voice to be heard.
And it is important, not just politically, but personal.
At an earlier convention, I was among the group who had access to the lobby area just outside the convention chambers. We were mixed together in a small roped off area, advocates from both sides standing shoulder to shoulder. We jockeyed for position and tried to out sing each other. The woman standing behind me, on the other side of the question, had a huge booming voice and sang into my ears so loudly that they rang for days. It was exhausting. At one point, I was desperate for a break. I gave up my hard earned spot and went down a hall to the rest room. On the way back, I was approached by a young man. Seeing my stole, he asked if we could pray. We found quiet corner and he told me his story. Having been raised a Baptist, until recently he had chanted with the anti-equality forces. Not long ago, though, he had had to come to terms with this own sexuality and admit, to himself, that he was gay. Now he came to the rallies and stood on the other side of the line. The pain in hearing the words he had once hollered, now shouted at him, was overwhelming. Would I pray with him? I was exhausted and had no idea how to do a Baptist prayer. Would I prayer with him? Of course, I would. Sometimes you just do what you need to do. Sometimes what seems political is deeply personal.
One of the consequences of being a congregation that is openly welcoming to the GLBT community is that you become a way station. Sometimes people come to the community because they have had to leave their previous religious home, and have nowhere else to go. Sometimes we knew, the minute we met people, that they were not destined to become Unitarian Universalists. But we welcomed them in, gave them love and affirmation. It was hard, later, to see them leave for a new community that more closely matched their spiritual needs. Sometimes members wondered about this. But, we came to see it as part of our mission in our particular time and place. We did not need people to become Unitarian Universalists to make a difference their lives. Many of these folks remained friends of the congregation even as they moved on. And each of them made a difference in our lives.
I hope you will get involved in the struggle for full equality. If you do, either individually, or as a congregation, I would commend you to the spiritual practice of patience. This work is not for those who need instant gratification.
I first spoke publicly on gay rights in the early 90’s.
I had always thought of myself as an open-minded person but I hadn’t really engaged in activism. I was the mother of two elementary school aged daughter. I was sitting in my office at the engineering company for which I worked when a co-worker came in and plopped down in my guest chair. He said, “You have to speak at the school board meeting in your town. A group with an overt anti-gay agenda is trying to eliminate compressive sexuality education. You have to speak at the hearing.”
I wasn’t the sort of person who spoke at school board meetings. But, sometimes you have to do what you have to do. Up for discussion was what could and could not be taught in public school classrooms. It don’t remember much of what I said. But I remember saying that, while much was open for debate, the one thing I definitely did not want my children to be taught, was hate.
In the 15 or so years since then, I have lost my self-image as someone who doesn’t speak at school board meetings. I have spoken at hearing at the state house, submitted written testimony to other hearings. I have written letters to the editor and commentaries for the paper. I’ve held signs, and marched, and lobbied with different groups in different ways. You can, too.
I hope you will get involved in the struggle for full equality. I hope you will let go of any self image that says you don’t do that sort of thing. I hope you will know that here in the heart of the Bible Belt, a liberal religious presence in the areas of gay rights and equal marriage will be gift to those whose lives are touched by these issues. Willingness to stand up and be counted in this arena may not just change lives, it may save lives. It will save lives.
At times it will seem like impossible odds. At one point, we could not imagine success. Many of us would have been happy with civil unions. And then, in an instant, with one court ruling, the world changed, and nothing but full equality under the law would do. Now we can’t image that we ever would have settled for less. You may feel that full equality here in Texas is a distant dream. But dreams can only come true if people are willing to dream them. Dream big! (You do things big in Texas.)
I hope you will get involved and I commend you to spiritual practice of patience. I joined this work about 15 years ago. In doing so, I joined people who had been doing for decades before. So much has been accomplished and continues to be accomplished. The ruling this week by the Supreme Court of California granting marriage equality there is just one more bit of proof that this struggle is a worthy one.
So much has been gained. And, there is so much left to do.
I commend to you patience, and endurance, and courage.
For they are needed for the work that needs to be done.
And you are needed for the work that needs to be done.
For there are many lives to change. Many lives to save. Right here in Texas.