Peppy Jack McKinney died on March 18, 2011. He had an unusual name. He lived an unusual life. He was an unusual father.
Dad was an honest-to-goodness rodeo cowboy. He won his first prize money in a roping when he was just nine. He was one of the best high school and college ropers of his generation. Then he roped professionally until his body finally betrayed him in his early fifties. He was happiest on a horse or traveling across the country to a rodeo.
My father had a wardrobe that would make any gay man envious. He had closets full of beautiful shirts, expensive boots and belts with shiny buckles. Before he left for a rodeo, he would spend hours in his bedroom laying out his wardrobe. He took matching colors to the border of ludicrous. He believed it was important that his outfit match the color of the horse he rode.
He was a man of style and charisma. What he wasn’t, though, was a man who cared much for his wife and three sons. My parents divorced when I was eleven and Dad ceased to be a presence in my life.
In my teen years and young adulthood, I developed a strong resentment towards my father. I was bitter about the way he had treated my mother and his seeming lack of interest in me. More damning, Dad’s bigotry became more and more obvious as I got older. He would say terribly offensive things about people of color. Homophobia was not a word he would have understood, but it was a sin he committed regularly. It would be an understatement to say I had little respect for him.
In the course of time, I came to believe my father would never change and I needed to let go of my bitterness towards him. I did this for my sake, not his. I made little effort to stay connected to him, and when we did speak, I worked hard not to let his offensive remarks get to me. My soul declared an emotional ceasefire with Dad and I simply stopped expecting anything from him other than what I had always received.
Then, just a few years ago, something unexpected happened. My brother, Jim, did the most courageous thing anyone in our family has ever done. He came out of the closet in his mid-forties.
Jim’s initial inclination was not to tell Dad that he was gay. He feared, as did I, that our cowboy father would react out of his deep-seated homophobia and reject Jim. This prospect worried him greatly, because whereas I had long given up on a connection with Dad, Jim had worked hard to stay in relationship with him over the years.
In time, though, as Jim came out to the rest of our family and his large circle of friends, he decided it was inevitable that Dad would learn of his sexual orientation. He decided it was best that he be the one to tell Dad the truth. I cannot fathom the courage it took for Jim to have that conversation knowing all that was at risk.
What came next is the one great thing my father ever did for one of his sons. He accepted his gay son. I cannot say that he understood or liked the fact that Jim was gay. I simply know that he accepted him and because of that one surprising act he forged a much deeper bond with Jim. For the first time in my life, I was proud of my father.
At Dad’s funeral I offered a prayer at the end of the service. Here is what I said:
In death we are confronted with endings.
The end of breath.
The end of time.
The end of our best intentions of how to use our breath and time.
Words we wish we could have said or heard go unsaid and unheard.
Things we wish we could have done or experienced go undone and unexperienced.
So, we pray for your grace as we are confronted with Dad’s death.
Give us the grace to celebrate all that was good in him and about him,
and the grace to let go of the rest.
Remind us that your reconciling touch
can reach across the endings of breath, and time, and best intentions.
Bless us with your strength as we move between the celebrating of life,
the letting go of old hurts, and the contemplating of what reconciliation can be in your Kingdom.
And now, O God, as Dad approaches that last great round up, may he feel:
the warmth of a big West Texas sun above him,
the power of a strong horse beneath him,
the comfort of a gentle breeze behind him,
and the certainty of your healing love within him.
When my homophobic cowboy father accepted his gay son and told him that he loved him, a powerful reconciliation began. It gives me hope that such healing can happen in other families. Thanks, Dad, for showing me at the end of your life that there was more in you than I ever believed possible.
Wednesday, March 23, 2011
Wednesday, March 2, 2011
The Silent Sermon
Psalm 19 in the Bible is a beautiful poem that describes the daily sermon given by nature without a word spoken. The poem begins this way:
The heavens are telling the glory of God;
and the firmament proclaims God’s handiwork.
Day to day pours forth speech,
and night to night declares knowledge.
There is no speech, nor are there words;
their voice is not heard;
yet their voice goes out through all the earth,
and their words to the end of the world.
What I wouldn’t give if just once in my life I could write a few lines of poetry as perfect as that.
In 1888 the Gifford Lectures began in Scotland. Lord Gifford was a judge who cared more about religion and metaphysics than the law, so upon his death he endowed a lectureship that has become the most important theological lectureship in the world. Lord Gifford’s sole aim in setting up this series was to prove that God could be known through natural theology without any reference to the miraculous. Over the decades great philosophers and theologians were awarded the Gifford Lectures. People like William James, Alfred North Whitehead, Albert Schweitzer, Karl Barth, Reinhold Niebuhr, and Paul Tillich have all spoken to Lord Gifford’s quest to discover a natural theology based on observation and reason.
Sadly, in ways that might make Lord Gifford spin in his grave, many of these scholars have determined natural theology is a dead end. In 2001, Stanley Hauerwas of Duke Divinity School was awarded the Gifford Lectureship. Hauerwas declared that the God one would discover through natural theology was not a God he could worship.
And why should we care about any of this? Because right now our world is bitterly divided between those who believe the poet’s universal vision in Psalm 19 and those who believe God and the truth can only be known in our sectarian communities and traditions.
The poet of Psalm 19 sees each day declaring in silence the beauty and power of a creator who is open to all. On the other hand, the world is filled with religious extremists who declare God and the truth can only be known through their interpretation of the Quran or the Bible. We see political operatives insinuating that God and the truth are on their side. Disputes in the public schools often pit people of different faiths and worldviews against one another.
And what I fear is that the vision of the poet in Psalm 19, and the hope of Lord Gifford, is dying. The idea that we can observe the silent witness of the created order, and from that witness deduce universal truths that draw us together, is not an idea that holds much sway right now.
We are paying a terrible price for ignoring the universal truths that are preached each dawn and each dusk. Even the most basic universal lessons are being pushed aside in favor of brutal sectarian aims. Suicide bombers destroy innocent lives in the name of Allah. Smart bombs are dropped from the skies onto the heads of innocent people in the name of freedom. Torture is not only tolerated, but in recent years became a tool of the United States to secure our liberty. How absurd is that? Can there be a more basic universal truth than it is wrong, immoral, indecent, and obscene to torture other human beings?
Of course there are other crucial points the natural world makes to us each day in its silent speech. Surely we can see that the desecration of our water, air, and land is a sin according to the magnificent sermon that comes with the break of day. We shouldn’t need virtually every reputable scientist telling us that global warming is real, and that environmental abuse is the great holocaust in our future. We should simply witness the proclamation of day and night and want to preserve this treasure that has been handed to us.
But truth be known, it is hard for us to hear this sermon without words. Technology has allowed us to fill the night with light, and to fill every silence with sounds, and to fill every empty space with video pixels. We are busy and productive and affluent, but we are also anxious and exhausted and empty. Our inability to hear the silent sermon of nature, and its universal truths, not only means we are committing atrocities against one another; it also means our personal lives are decadent and dead.
In this world ablaze with sectarian violence, and divided by narrow self-interest, and filled with non-stop noise and clutter, there is a way out of our splintered, empty ways. It is through the daily sermon of nature that begins at dawn with a beauty that can move us and a power that can shake us. This silent proclamation is open to all without regard to nation, creed, race, or religion. And if we will stop and pay attention, and recognize the universal truths contained in this wordless speech, we can be healed, and we can be whole, and we can be one.
The heavens are telling the glory of God;
and the firmament proclaims God’s handiwork.
Day to day pours forth speech,
and night to night declares knowledge.
There is no speech, nor are there words;
their voice is not heard;
yet their voice goes out through all the earth,
and their words to the end of the world.
What I wouldn’t give if just once in my life I could write a few lines of poetry as perfect as that.
In 1888 the Gifford Lectures began in Scotland. Lord Gifford was a judge who cared more about religion and metaphysics than the law, so upon his death he endowed a lectureship that has become the most important theological lectureship in the world. Lord Gifford’s sole aim in setting up this series was to prove that God could be known through natural theology without any reference to the miraculous. Over the decades great philosophers and theologians were awarded the Gifford Lectures. People like William James, Alfred North Whitehead, Albert Schweitzer, Karl Barth, Reinhold Niebuhr, and Paul Tillich have all spoken to Lord Gifford’s quest to discover a natural theology based on observation and reason.
Sadly, in ways that might make Lord Gifford spin in his grave, many of these scholars have determined natural theology is a dead end. In 2001, Stanley Hauerwas of Duke Divinity School was awarded the Gifford Lectureship. Hauerwas declared that the God one would discover through natural theology was not a God he could worship.
And why should we care about any of this? Because right now our world is bitterly divided between those who believe the poet’s universal vision in Psalm 19 and those who believe God and the truth can only be known in our sectarian communities and traditions.
The poet of Psalm 19 sees each day declaring in silence the beauty and power of a creator who is open to all. On the other hand, the world is filled with religious extremists who declare God and the truth can only be known through their interpretation of the Quran or the Bible. We see political operatives insinuating that God and the truth are on their side. Disputes in the public schools often pit people of different faiths and worldviews against one another.
And what I fear is that the vision of the poet in Psalm 19, and the hope of Lord Gifford, is dying. The idea that we can observe the silent witness of the created order, and from that witness deduce universal truths that draw us together, is not an idea that holds much sway right now.
We are paying a terrible price for ignoring the universal truths that are preached each dawn and each dusk. Even the most basic universal lessons are being pushed aside in favor of brutal sectarian aims. Suicide bombers destroy innocent lives in the name of Allah. Smart bombs are dropped from the skies onto the heads of innocent people in the name of freedom. Torture is not only tolerated, but in recent years became a tool of the United States to secure our liberty. How absurd is that? Can there be a more basic universal truth than it is wrong, immoral, indecent, and obscene to torture other human beings?
Of course there are other crucial points the natural world makes to us each day in its silent speech. Surely we can see that the desecration of our water, air, and land is a sin according to the magnificent sermon that comes with the break of day. We shouldn’t need virtually every reputable scientist telling us that global warming is real, and that environmental abuse is the great holocaust in our future. We should simply witness the proclamation of day and night and want to preserve this treasure that has been handed to us.
But truth be known, it is hard for us to hear this sermon without words. Technology has allowed us to fill the night with light, and to fill every silence with sounds, and to fill every empty space with video pixels. We are busy and productive and affluent, but we are also anxious and exhausted and empty. Our inability to hear the silent sermon of nature, and its universal truths, not only means we are committing atrocities against one another; it also means our personal lives are decadent and dead.
In this world ablaze with sectarian violence, and divided by narrow self-interest, and filled with non-stop noise and clutter, there is a way out of our splintered, empty ways. It is through the daily sermon of nature that begins at dawn with a beauty that can move us and a power that can shake us. This silent proclamation is open to all without regard to nation, creed, race, or religion. And if we will stop and pay attention, and recognize the universal truths contained in this wordless speech, we can be healed, and we can be whole, and we can be one.
Thursday, February 3, 2011
Sodas and Care of the Soul
In 1974, at about noon on every weekday, a science experiment took place behind the Austin Elementary School in Pecos, Texas. My three fourth-grade friends-- Darren, Rodney, and Sanford--would join me at the beginning of the lunch break. Each of us brought our own raw material for the experiment: a soft drink.
Our goal was simple. We sought to determine how high the liquid in a can of soda would shoot into the air after it had been tossed against a wall, rolled down the steps, and kicked a few times. We found our answer one day. Darren opened his can after the aforementioned “preparation” and we watched in amazement as Coke shot all the way to the roof of the two-story building. It was the greatest thing I had witnessed in nine years of life.
If only other explosions were as benign as those created by curious children.
Human beings spend a fair amount of time being tossed around by life. Sometimes cruel and abusive adults are the source of the painful buffeting we experience in childhood. At other times societal biases cause us to feel like we are being kicked down the stairs. And then there are the random hardships like bad economies, illnesses, and the loss of loved ones. Any of these can cause us to go off unexpectedly when the lid to our emotions develops a crack.
Anger, anxiety, and depression are just a few of the things that come rushing out of us when someone or something cracks open an intense wound that has been festering for a long time--sometimes for years or decades.
In my counseling practice many of my clients seek me out after one of these emotional explosions, or to try and prevent one from happening. Some people are surprised by the intensity of their feelings over events from far in their past, events that they may have even forgotten until something jolts them into a painful memory.
But it makes sense if you think about it. Suppressing a painful feeling or experience doesn’t eliminate it. It simply allows for time and events to jostle that hurt until the internal combustion creates a reaction. Often we are shocked by just how strong that reaction can be.
It is important to remember that eruptions of anger, anxiety, grief, depression or other unpleasant feelings are not the central problem. In fact, these expressions are reminders that there is a bigger issue going on that we have ignored or overlooked. Pain can be a powerful teacher if we are willing to search out its true lesson.
Still, none of us want to be ruled by a raging temper or uncontrolled anxiety. So how do we prevent such powerful feelings from affecting our ability to live well and relate to the others in a healthy fashion?
First, we have to talk. Strong emotional reactions can make us feel ashamed and vulnerable. In such a state we tend to retreat into silence. The most important gift we can give to ourselves in those moments is the permission to talk to someone we trust. Simple conversation allows the internal pressure to be released gradually in a way that reduces the chance of a sudden blast.
Second, we should seek community. Isolation is the ally of depression and deceives us into thinking that the best place for us in our misery is separated from others. Yet, it is through connection to people that we care about, and who care about us, that we discover the tonic of love, laughter, and a lighter heart.
Third, we need to nurture our souls/psyche. For some of us this means engaging in religious or spiritual practices that bring us peace and purpose. For others it might mean spending time in nature so that we feel more alive. The recipe is different for each of us, but the result is similar. We begin to feel like ourselves again and more in tune with our inner truth.
A can of soda does not shoot in the air every time you open it. Someone has to shake it first; or in the case of little boys, kick it, throw it and turn it into a rocket launcher. Once that has happened, though, you have two choices. You can open it quickly and watch it head for the roof, or you can do it carefully in a way that defuses its power. I highly recommend the latter approach if you want anything left in the can to drink.
Our goal was simple. We sought to determine how high the liquid in a can of soda would shoot into the air after it had been tossed against a wall, rolled down the steps, and kicked a few times. We found our answer one day. Darren opened his can after the aforementioned “preparation” and we watched in amazement as Coke shot all the way to the roof of the two-story building. It was the greatest thing I had witnessed in nine years of life.
If only other explosions were as benign as those created by curious children.
Human beings spend a fair amount of time being tossed around by life. Sometimes cruel and abusive adults are the source of the painful buffeting we experience in childhood. At other times societal biases cause us to feel like we are being kicked down the stairs. And then there are the random hardships like bad economies, illnesses, and the loss of loved ones. Any of these can cause us to go off unexpectedly when the lid to our emotions develops a crack.
Anger, anxiety, and depression are just a few of the things that come rushing out of us when someone or something cracks open an intense wound that has been festering for a long time--sometimes for years or decades.
In my counseling practice many of my clients seek me out after one of these emotional explosions, or to try and prevent one from happening. Some people are surprised by the intensity of their feelings over events from far in their past, events that they may have even forgotten until something jolts them into a painful memory.
But it makes sense if you think about it. Suppressing a painful feeling or experience doesn’t eliminate it. It simply allows for time and events to jostle that hurt until the internal combustion creates a reaction. Often we are shocked by just how strong that reaction can be.
It is important to remember that eruptions of anger, anxiety, grief, depression or other unpleasant feelings are not the central problem. In fact, these expressions are reminders that there is a bigger issue going on that we have ignored or overlooked. Pain can be a powerful teacher if we are willing to search out its true lesson.
Still, none of us want to be ruled by a raging temper or uncontrolled anxiety. So how do we prevent such powerful feelings from affecting our ability to live well and relate to the others in a healthy fashion?
First, we have to talk. Strong emotional reactions can make us feel ashamed and vulnerable. In such a state we tend to retreat into silence. The most important gift we can give to ourselves in those moments is the permission to talk to someone we trust. Simple conversation allows the internal pressure to be released gradually in a way that reduces the chance of a sudden blast.
Second, we should seek community. Isolation is the ally of depression and deceives us into thinking that the best place for us in our misery is separated from others. Yet, it is through connection to people that we care about, and who care about us, that we discover the tonic of love, laughter, and a lighter heart.
Third, we need to nurture our souls/psyche. For some of us this means engaging in religious or spiritual practices that bring us peace and purpose. For others it might mean spending time in nature so that we feel more alive. The recipe is different for each of us, but the result is similar. We begin to feel like ourselves again and more in tune with our inner truth.
A can of soda does not shoot in the air every time you open it. Someone has to shake it first; or in the case of little boys, kick it, throw it and turn it into a rocket launcher. Once that has happened, though, you have two choices. You can open it quickly and watch it head for the roof, or you can do it carefully in a way that defuses its power. I highly recommend the latter approach if you want anything left in the can to drink.
Tuesday, January 4, 2011
Cowboys and the Death of Don't Ask, Don't Tell
I grew up in a cowboy culture. My father was an honest to goodness professional roper, and my most cherished possessions as a small boy were my boots, cowboy hat and toy gun belt.
Legend has it that when I was four, I put on my boots and hat, strapped on the six-shooters, and headed outside without any other clothing on my body. Judge Naylor’s wife drove by our house and I drew both pistols and let her have it in a blaze of fake, naked shooting. She called my mother to inform her of this incident, and my career as the Flashing Shootist came to an end.
My life now feels very different than that West Texas world where men have big hats and women have big hair. A few things remain with me, though. From my earliest memories of being around real cowboys I absorbed a certain code they live by.
First, tell the truth even if it gets you in trouble. A dishonest person was the lowest form of humanity. Cowboys were far from saints, but they were admirable in their willingness to be transparent.
Second, take pride in who you are and don’t apologize for it. Cowboys are independents sorts who don’t put much energy into trying to fit other people’s conceptions of who they should be. Wear what you like, say what you think, and drive whichever truck you feel God has ordained for you to drive. Believe me, no true cowboy would drive a truck just because he thought his neighbors would approve.
Finally, honor the institutions that give life substance. Family, church and community service are just a few of those societal bedrocks deserving of respect, if not support.
I certainly don’t want to idealize the cowboy culture, especially considering the virulent homophobia found in much of it. But the code of truth-telling, taking pride in yourself and honoring institutions that give life meaning remains a part of my self-understanding. In fact, I think these are things that help form a good soul and culture regardless of where you are in the world.
That brings me to the timely and well-deserved death of “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell.” The revocation of the Pentagon’s policy that forced thousands of gays and lesbians from the military because they didn’t hide well enough was way overdue. We should all celebrate this civil right’s victory. A great injustice has finally been undone.
In reflecting on what “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” did to all Americans, not just the LGBTQ community, it struck me just how antithetical this policy was to that cowboy code I described above.
It was a law that not only encouraged, but insisted on lying if gays and lesbians wanted to remain in the military. The policy said if you took pride in being who you are as an LGBTQ American, and lived your life without apology, there was no place for you. And it was a rule that caused many people, military and civilian alike, to have little respect for the institutions that kept such an abhorrent restriction in place.
In other words, our government made it a legal requirement to lie, hide and feel ashamed if a non-heterosexual wanted to serve in the military. That’s the deeper tragedy in this mess. Not only did 14,000 good soldiers lose their careers, but the government institutionalized the very processes that lead to spiritual and emotional death. Lying, hiding and being ashamed are the darkest corner of the closet, and being forced to dwell there will create serious damage to the soul. Any real cowboy could tell you that.
In my counseling practice I see evidence every day of the deep wounds caused by a society that has told my LGBTQ clients they must lie, hide and feel ashamed. I also witness the remarkable healing that comes from those same clients who decide to live as they are and offer no apologies for their beautiful distinctiveness. I pray that the fact the military can no longer enforce “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” will encourage other American institutions to reconsider their own shameful history in this regard.
Yes, Church, I’m looking at you. Cowboy up and do the right thing!
Legend has it that when I was four, I put on my boots and hat, strapped on the six-shooters, and headed outside without any other clothing on my body. Judge Naylor’s wife drove by our house and I drew both pistols and let her have it in a blaze of fake, naked shooting. She called my mother to inform her of this incident, and my career as the Flashing Shootist came to an end.
My life now feels very different than that West Texas world where men have big hats and women have big hair. A few things remain with me, though. From my earliest memories of being around real cowboys I absorbed a certain code they live by.
First, tell the truth even if it gets you in trouble. A dishonest person was the lowest form of humanity. Cowboys were far from saints, but they were admirable in their willingness to be transparent.
Second, take pride in who you are and don’t apologize for it. Cowboys are independents sorts who don’t put much energy into trying to fit other people’s conceptions of who they should be. Wear what you like, say what you think, and drive whichever truck you feel God has ordained for you to drive. Believe me, no true cowboy would drive a truck just because he thought his neighbors would approve.
Finally, honor the institutions that give life substance. Family, church and community service are just a few of those societal bedrocks deserving of respect, if not support.
I certainly don’t want to idealize the cowboy culture, especially considering the virulent homophobia found in much of it. But the code of truth-telling, taking pride in yourself and honoring institutions that give life meaning remains a part of my self-understanding. In fact, I think these are things that help form a good soul and culture regardless of where you are in the world.
That brings me to the timely and well-deserved death of “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell.” The revocation of the Pentagon’s policy that forced thousands of gays and lesbians from the military because they didn’t hide well enough was way overdue. We should all celebrate this civil right’s victory. A great injustice has finally been undone.
In reflecting on what “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” did to all Americans, not just the LGBTQ community, it struck me just how antithetical this policy was to that cowboy code I described above.
It was a law that not only encouraged, but insisted on lying if gays and lesbians wanted to remain in the military. The policy said if you took pride in being who you are as an LGBTQ American, and lived your life without apology, there was no place for you. And it was a rule that caused many people, military and civilian alike, to have little respect for the institutions that kept such an abhorrent restriction in place.
In other words, our government made it a legal requirement to lie, hide and feel ashamed if a non-heterosexual wanted to serve in the military. That’s the deeper tragedy in this mess. Not only did 14,000 good soldiers lose their careers, but the government institutionalized the very processes that lead to spiritual and emotional death. Lying, hiding and being ashamed are the darkest corner of the closet, and being forced to dwell there will create serious damage to the soul. Any real cowboy could tell you that.
In my counseling practice I see evidence every day of the deep wounds caused by a society that has told my LGBTQ clients they must lie, hide and feel ashamed. I also witness the remarkable healing that comes from those same clients who decide to live as they are and offer no apologies for their beautiful distinctiveness. I pray that the fact the military can no longer enforce “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” will encourage other American institutions to reconsider their own shameful history in this regard.
Yes, Church, I’m looking at you. Cowboy up and do the right thing!
Friday, December 3, 2010
Easy Theological Bigotry
“As he walked along, he saw a man blind from birth. His disciples asked him, ‘Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?” – John 9:1-2
And so there it is. As natural as breathing in and out. Without a doubt in the world. “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?” The question is not asked in a hateful way. It is not full of venom and invective. This is not Christian fundamentalists calling Islam an evil religion, or Muslim fundamentalists calling for death to Christian America. This is smooth and simple and as natural as can be: “Who sinned, Jesus, this man or his parents, because we know someone’s sin is responsible for his condition.”
Do you see how easy that theological bigotry flows out of the disciples’ mouths? Not because they are bad people. After all, these are devout followers of Jesus who have left all to follow him. They have proven their willingness to sacrifice on behalf of others. But since they were children they have been taught a truth they believe without even thinking about it: sin is the root cause of a condition like blindness. It might be the person’s sin, or the person’s ancestors, but someone, somewhere did something so bad that God punished the sin with blindness. They all know it. Without a doubt.
And we are shocked or disgusted that anyone, anywhere at anytime could equate blindness with sinfulness. It offends our sensibilities. To be disabled by a condition like a loss of vision produces sympathy in us, not a theological riddle about sinfulness. Who are these people in the Bible who think such backwards thoughts? Well, they are my spiritual ancestors. They are the founders of the church. They are the first followers of Jesus.
And from that time until now, theological bigotry has existed and flourished in the church. Consider all the different ways in church history this pattern has been manifested. Slavery, segregation, and insidious racism lasted so long in this country not because a bunch of kooks in bed sheets were in control. No, the church must bear much of the responsibility. The Bible was used in some churches to teach that blacks were inferior to whites; in more moderate churches the Bible was used to suggest that a separation of the races was God’s intended design; and then a lot of churches just stayed quiet about the continual destruction of a whole race of people.
Or what about the history of women in the church? For a long time the Bible was used to deny women basic human rights. They couldn’t vote or own property or speak in church. Even today, the two largest Christian bodies in this country, the Roman Catholic Church and the Southern Baptist Convention, actively teach that women are not suitable for the priesthood and pastorate. Why? Because the Bible says so. This misogynistic theology just flows through the church like air through the vents. And few people even question it.
And all of this makes us cringe. How horrifying that people of faith have used the scriptures to denounce blind people, black people, and women as less than. As sinful. Because we know what the misappropriation of that sin label means. It means if someone is suffering because of their own sin we don’t have to care about them. They are flawed because of something they have done, or because of something inherently wrong with them, and that lets us off the hook. But we denounce that kind of thinking now, don’t we?
I wish I could say yes, but it seems the pattern remains just as persistent even if the targets of theological bigotry keep shifting. Today the main concern of some in the church is keeping the pure heterosexuals untainted from the evil homosexuals. The tremendous suffering of the LGBT community is completely ignored by the church because, after all, being attracted to someone of the same sex is a sin. How do we know that? Well, everyone knows that the Bible says so. Just like everyone used to know that black people were inferior and women were less than and even blind people were sinful because the scriptures said so somewhere. Do you see how insidious this is? If you can just get a group of people labeled as sinful then you can ignore them, exclude them, disenfranchise them, and turn your back on their suffering.
But here’s the thing. The day will come, not nearly soon enough, when our children and grandchildren will look back on this period in the church’s history and wonder how in the world Christians could have spent so much time and energy demonizing LGBT people. They will look at the twisted ways the Bible has been used to support homophobia with the same disgust we have when we view the way our ancestors used the Bible to undergird slavery and misogyny. And those future generations will wonder how this could have taken place so easily, with so little outcry.
To heal bigotry in all its awful manifestations you have to start by labeling things correctly. You can’t call that which is beautiful in the eyes of God sinful. And one thing I believe is that people with disabilities, people of color, women, and people of all sexual and gender identities are beautiful in the eyes of God. The sin in this case has been the church’s for calling those people who are sacred sinful. I pray God will forgive us.
And so there it is. As natural as breathing in and out. Without a doubt in the world. “Rabbi, who sinned, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?” The question is not asked in a hateful way. It is not full of venom and invective. This is not Christian fundamentalists calling Islam an evil religion, or Muslim fundamentalists calling for death to Christian America. This is smooth and simple and as natural as can be: “Who sinned, Jesus, this man or his parents, because we know someone’s sin is responsible for his condition.”
Do you see how easy that theological bigotry flows out of the disciples’ mouths? Not because they are bad people. After all, these are devout followers of Jesus who have left all to follow him. They have proven their willingness to sacrifice on behalf of others. But since they were children they have been taught a truth they believe without even thinking about it: sin is the root cause of a condition like blindness. It might be the person’s sin, or the person’s ancestors, but someone, somewhere did something so bad that God punished the sin with blindness. They all know it. Without a doubt.
And we are shocked or disgusted that anyone, anywhere at anytime could equate blindness with sinfulness. It offends our sensibilities. To be disabled by a condition like a loss of vision produces sympathy in us, not a theological riddle about sinfulness. Who are these people in the Bible who think such backwards thoughts? Well, they are my spiritual ancestors. They are the founders of the church. They are the first followers of Jesus.
And from that time until now, theological bigotry has existed and flourished in the church. Consider all the different ways in church history this pattern has been manifested. Slavery, segregation, and insidious racism lasted so long in this country not because a bunch of kooks in bed sheets were in control. No, the church must bear much of the responsibility. The Bible was used in some churches to teach that blacks were inferior to whites; in more moderate churches the Bible was used to suggest that a separation of the races was God’s intended design; and then a lot of churches just stayed quiet about the continual destruction of a whole race of people.
Or what about the history of women in the church? For a long time the Bible was used to deny women basic human rights. They couldn’t vote or own property or speak in church. Even today, the two largest Christian bodies in this country, the Roman Catholic Church and the Southern Baptist Convention, actively teach that women are not suitable for the priesthood and pastorate. Why? Because the Bible says so. This misogynistic theology just flows through the church like air through the vents. And few people even question it.
And all of this makes us cringe. How horrifying that people of faith have used the scriptures to denounce blind people, black people, and women as less than. As sinful. Because we know what the misappropriation of that sin label means. It means if someone is suffering because of their own sin we don’t have to care about them. They are flawed because of something they have done, or because of something inherently wrong with them, and that lets us off the hook. But we denounce that kind of thinking now, don’t we?
I wish I could say yes, but it seems the pattern remains just as persistent even if the targets of theological bigotry keep shifting. Today the main concern of some in the church is keeping the pure heterosexuals untainted from the evil homosexuals. The tremendous suffering of the LGBT community is completely ignored by the church because, after all, being attracted to someone of the same sex is a sin. How do we know that? Well, everyone knows that the Bible says so. Just like everyone used to know that black people were inferior and women were less than and even blind people were sinful because the scriptures said so somewhere. Do you see how insidious this is? If you can just get a group of people labeled as sinful then you can ignore them, exclude them, disenfranchise them, and turn your back on their suffering.
But here’s the thing. The day will come, not nearly soon enough, when our children and grandchildren will look back on this period in the church’s history and wonder how in the world Christians could have spent so much time and energy demonizing LGBT people. They will look at the twisted ways the Bible has been used to support homophobia with the same disgust we have when we view the way our ancestors used the Bible to undergird slavery and misogyny. And those future generations will wonder how this could have taken place so easily, with so little outcry.
To heal bigotry in all its awful manifestations you have to start by labeling things correctly. You can’t call that which is beautiful in the eyes of God sinful. And one thing I believe is that people with disabilities, people of color, women, and people of all sexual and gender identities are beautiful in the eyes of God. The sin in this case has been the church’s for calling those people who are sacred sinful. I pray God will forgive us.
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Profile from the Raleigh News & Observer
A wonderful friend convinced the reporter to do this profile of me. I am grateful beyond words to my friend.
On a mission for equality
BY SARAH RUBENOFF
Jack McKinney says he's always had a heart for the "outcasts of society."
In February, McKinney, 45, former pastor at Pullen Memorial Baptist Church, opened McKinney Counseling and Consulting, where one of the specialties is gender identity disorders.
"I have been fortunate to know and counsel hundreds of individuals who would be considered 'outcasts' for one reason or another," McKinney said. "What I have learned from these people is an inspiration. Justice for all is not just a theory."
McKinney knew early in life that promoting the rights of the gay and lesbian community was to be part of his calling. When one of McKinney's closest high school friends publically came out, McKinney had a decision to make.
"I could continue to believe the party line about how awful gay people were, or I could believe my own experience revealed by my close friend," McKinney said. "I chose to believe my experience. The result has been the amazing privilege of befriending and counseling hundreds of LGBT people who are as wonderful as my childhood friend."
McKinney began his journey at Pullen in 1998 when a friend submitted his name to Pullen's search committee. After landing his dream job, McKinney set out to promote the rights of the LGBT community inside and outside the church.
After 18 months at Pullen, McKinney made his first big decision as pastor and asked the congregation to promote Nancy Petty, who is a lesbian, from associate pastor to co-pastor. "The decision to share power with me was really a testament to his character," Petty said. "It demonstrated his commitment to what's fair, what's right and what is equal."
Said McKinney, "The fact that Nancy is a lesbian and leading a major congregation in a Southern city says a lot about Pullen's inclusive nature."
McKinney continued to further his cause by joining with other religious leaders and activists in the Triangle to form the North Carolina Religious Coalition for Marriage Equality in 2004.
The organization, dedicated to achieving marriage equality for same-sex couples, met with religious leaders and asked them to sign statements promoting the cause and also held a rally at the General Assembly to publicize the movement.
Recently, the NCRC4ME gave its remaining funds to Equality North Carolina, the leading advocacy organization in the state for LGBT rights and an organization in which McKinney also is active.
McKinney has run into criticism from the church and community, in the form of derogatory letters and angry phone calls, but more often than not he and his colleagues receive gratitude for their work, McKinney said.
"I also befriended a couple of people who initially sent me critical letters; when I responded they seemed surprised I was willing to talk to them and we started a much more civil exchange after that," he said.
After making extensive progress for the LGBT community and becoming a beloved fixture at Pullen, McKinney made the decision to start the next chapter of his life.v"I told the church I didn't want to become a mediocre minister, and I feared I was headed in that direction," McKinney said. "Yet, the one part of my job I still had great passion for was counseling."
McKinney had previously partnered with Kimball Sargent, a nurse psychotherapist and owner of Diverse Solutions, a local business that specializes in transgender therapy.
"I was looking for someone to help my clients in a spiritual way. Jack did just this," Sargent said. "He was so helpful and empathetic to my clients, and I was not surprised when he started his own business."
More than half McKinney's clients are gay, lesbian, bisexual or transgender, and he also provides couples counseling for both heterosexual and gay couples, as well as pastoral consulting services for clergy and congregations.
McKinney said he does not find it hard to balance spirituality and professionalism in his counseling services. "There is a misconception that pastoral counseling must involve some religious angle," McKinney said. "Actually, it is just talk therapy with a therapist who is also comfortable talking about faith or spiritual matters if the client wants to do so."
McKinney remembers one of his most powerful memories from his professional life as presiding over a same-sex covenant ceremony at Pullen.
"Both the fathers were well into their senior adult years and had some anxieties about being part of a gay wedding," McKinney said. After the ceremony, the fathers, who served at best men in the service, said they thought the service was beautiful.
"After that day," McKinney said, "I never assumed people could not change their minds about accepting gay, lesbian, bisexual or transgender people."
On a mission for equality
BY SARAH RUBENOFF
Jack McKinney says he's always had a heart for the "outcasts of society."
In February, McKinney, 45, former pastor at Pullen Memorial Baptist Church, opened McKinney Counseling and Consulting, where one of the specialties is gender identity disorders.
"I have been fortunate to know and counsel hundreds of individuals who would be considered 'outcasts' for one reason or another," McKinney said. "What I have learned from these people is an inspiration. Justice for all is not just a theory."
McKinney knew early in life that promoting the rights of the gay and lesbian community was to be part of his calling. When one of McKinney's closest high school friends publically came out, McKinney had a decision to make.
"I could continue to believe the party line about how awful gay people were, or I could believe my own experience revealed by my close friend," McKinney said. "I chose to believe my experience. The result has been the amazing privilege of befriending and counseling hundreds of LGBT people who are as wonderful as my childhood friend."
McKinney began his journey at Pullen in 1998 when a friend submitted his name to Pullen's search committee. After landing his dream job, McKinney set out to promote the rights of the LGBT community inside and outside the church.
After 18 months at Pullen, McKinney made his first big decision as pastor and asked the congregation to promote Nancy Petty, who is a lesbian, from associate pastor to co-pastor. "The decision to share power with me was really a testament to his character," Petty said. "It demonstrated his commitment to what's fair, what's right and what is equal."
Said McKinney, "The fact that Nancy is a lesbian and leading a major congregation in a Southern city says a lot about Pullen's inclusive nature."
McKinney continued to further his cause by joining with other religious leaders and activists in the Triangle to form the North Carolina Religious Coalition for Marriage Equality in 2004.
The organization, dedicated to achieving marriage equality for same-sex couples, met with religious leaders and asked them to sign statements promoting the cause and also held a rally at the General Assembly to publicize the movement.
Recently, the NCRC4ME gave its remaining funds to Equality North Carolina, the leading advocacy organization in the state for LGBT rights and an organization in which McKinney also is active.
McKinney has run into criticism from the church and community, in the form of derogatory letters and angry phone calls, but more often than not he and his colleagues receive gratitude for their work, McKinney said.
"I also befriended a couple of people who initially sent me critical letters; when I responded they seemed surprised I was willing to talk to them and we started a much more civil exchange after that," he said.
After making extensive progress for the LGBT community and becoming a beloved fixture at Pullen, McKinney made the decision to start the next chapter of his life.v"I told the church I didn't want to become a mediocre minister, and I feared I was headed in that direction," McKinney said. "Yet, the one part of my job I still had great passion for was counseling."
McKinney had previously partnered with Kimball Sargent, a nurse psychotherapist and owner of Diverse Solutions, a local business that specializes in transgender therapy.
"I was looking for someone to help my clients in a spiritual way. Jack did just this," Sargent said. "He was so helpful and empathetic to my clients, and I was not surprised when he started his own business."
More than half McKinney's clients are gay, lesbian, bisexual or transgender, and he also provides couples counseling for both heterosexual and gay couples, as well as pastoral consulting services for clergy and congregations.
McKinney said he does not find it hard to balance spirituality and professionalism in his counseling services. "There is a misconception that pastoral counseling must involve some religious angle," McKinney said. "Actually, it is just talk therapy with a therapist who is also comfortable talking about faith or spiritual matters if the client wants to do so."
McKinney remembers one of his most powerful memories from his professional life as presiding over a same-sex covenant ceremony at Pullen.
"Both the fathers were well into their senior adult years and had some anxieties about being part of a gay wedding," McKinney said. After the ceremony, the fathers, who served at best men in the service, said they thought the service was beautiful.
"After that day," McKinney said, "I never assumed people could not change their minds about accepting gay, lesbian, bisexual or transgender people."
Monday, November 8, 2010
Mother of the Year
I nominate this woman for mother of the year. If the world was filled with people like this, there would be less hate, more acceptance, and kids would grow up not caring what others think of them.
nerdyapplebottom.com/2010/11/02/my-son-is-gay/
My favorite paragraph: "If you think that me allowing my son to be a female character for Halloween is somehow going to ‘make’ him gay then you are an idiot. Firstly, what a ridiculous concept. Secondly, if my son is gay, OK. I will love him no less. Thirdly, I am not worried that your son will grow up to be an actual ninja so back off."
nerdyapplebottom.com/2010/11/02/my-son-is-gay/
My favorite paragraph: "If you think that me allowing my son to be a female character for Halloween is somehow going to ‘make’ him gay then you are an idiot. Firstly, what a ridiculous concept. Secondly, if my son is gay, OK. I will love him no less. Thirdly, I am not worried that your son will grow up to be an actual ninja so back off."
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