-- Woodrow Wilson
Musical Meditation: A poem by the Jewish writer Yip Harburg, which was set to music in 1939. Here it is performed by the Hawaiian artist Israel Kamakawiwo’ole. He was a musician/activist, who fought for the rights of Hawaiian natives, and tried to raise awareness of their second-class status on the islands today.
Somewhere over the rainbow, way up high
There's a land that I've heard of once in a lullaby.
Somewhere over the rainbow, skies are blue
And the dreams that you dare to dream,
Really do come true.
Someday I'll wish upon a star
And wake up where the clouds are far behind me.
Where troubles melt like lemon drops,
High above the chimney tops,
That's where you'll find me.
Somewhere over the rainbow, blue birds fly
Birds fly over the rainbow
Why then, oh why can't I?
If happy little bluebirds fly beyond the rainbow
Why, oh why can't I?
Perspectives: Jerry Carden
My name is Jerry Carden - my husband Tim Temple and I have been active at the UU church here since 1996. I will share some perspective on the history of the Welcoming Congregation process and what it means to us.
We first visited this church a few times in 1994, having been encouraged to become involved in the choir by a friend who goes here. I didn’t get a particularly warm vibe from the congregation and did not return. I did know that the Unitarian Universalist Association, at the international level, had been a strong advocate for LGBT rights, including marriage equality, for decades, but I just didn’t feel it at this church and was disappointed.
A year and a half later I saw a News-Gazette article that this church had started the formal Welcoming Congregation process and explained what that was. Tim and I came back to hear a sermon by Helen Bishop, the Central Midwest district administrator, also an out lesbian. Things were changing- the former minister was gone. The church was also in the ministerial search process and Bruce Johnson was the interim minister. We decided to give it a few more Sundays. We are glad we did as this community has enriched our lives tremendously in many ways - evidenced by the people we now consider to be an extended family.
We were able to help form an active Interweave chapter. The Interweave mission was ‘to promote an affirming atmosphere in our congregation for lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender people in our church and community.’ The group moved the church toward adopting the Welcoming Congregation resolution and a church vote in 1999. The Welcoming Congregation program is sponsored by the UUA for their affiliated churches to show evidence of having worked to develop an affirming environment. Educational workshops and forums were held, we delivered LGBT themed church services, and sponsored LGBT themed movies advertised to the community. Since LGBT persons at our church came to feel fully ‘interwoven’ in all aspects of church life, the decision was made to meld Interweave into our Social Action Committee or SAC.
The SAC has been active in the marriage equality fight for almost 10 years: Running ads in local media in support of same-sex marriage. In 2006 we unveiled the ‘Civil Marriage Is a Civil Right,’ banner. We’ve marched with other gay-themed contingents in the 4th of July parade. We coordinate periodic worship services relating to LGBT issues, including several relating to civil unions and marriage rights, in which members have shared their own stories. We participate with the UP Center PrideFest event with a booth every fall (held just yesterday). Rainbow flags are now unfurled at our entrances as another external and visible statement of support.
Rachel Storm
I came to this church seeking a special kind of community. A spiritual, but not dogmatic, community that wouldn’t require of me to check my sexuality, my politics, or my passions at the door. I found that within these walls were people, who—like me—sought a home where we could freely love, question, and engage. As a queer woman, I felt at home, but only after I entered the doors. When I became chair of the Social Action Committee two years ago, I was interested in helping make our Unitarian Universalist Welcoming Congregation commitment more visible to the community and more of a strategic goal for the congregation. We can call ourselves a “welcoming congregation,” but what does that really look like? How are we ensuring that we are constantly learning and growing in our commitment to lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, queer, and questioning community members? How are we connecting with local LGBTQ organizations like the Uniting Pride Center, the LGBT Resource Center, and gay, lesbian, trans*, and queer groups on campus? In the past three years, we’ve participated in the Annual CU Pride Festival hosted by the UP Center, hosted LGBTQ allyship workshops on language sensitivity and challenging homophobia, and surveyed our congregation about how to support each other in growing in our commitment to LGBTQ allyship and inclusivity, as well as, how to make that commitment more visible. Putting up these flags as symbols of that commitment came as a direct response to that survey. These colorful flags are but reminders. They are a reminder that our work isn’t done, that these efforts are part of a larger UU commitment to social justice.
Jim Hannum
I used to think it was enough to just be tolerant of our GLBT sons, daughters, brothers, sisters, and friends , but I no longer think so. My “teachable moment” occurred when our daughter, Christy, came out to my wife and me.
Most of my family and Sandy’s family were supportive and welcoming of her coming out, as were we. My mother, on the other hand, was unhappy and thought of her as making a sinful lifestyle choice. My father said very little either way, which was even more frustrating- was he supportive or antagonistic?
Sandy and I realized that we could offer our daughter a lot more than just tolerance, acceptance and love. We could also be her advocates, or to use a bolder term, her warriors. We decided to speak up in our family and not just hope to avoid conflict by getting by. We chose to actively engage my parents in a discussion of gay/lesbian issues, to challenge their assumptions, and to prod them toward more active acceptance of their granddaughter. I think we made some progress in the time before they passed away, but even more importantly, I think we helped the rest of our family talk about these issues directly and not leave them unspoken. Keeping such conversations in the proverbial “closet” can harm everyone.
Our society and many of our religions provide so many justifications for what is normal and acceptable around sexual identity. This results in an enormous degree of heterosexual presumption and privilege. Those of us who are heterosexual are unlikely to directly see the harm these presumptions cause. We have the privilege of being able to sidestep the conflicts around sexual identity and live our lives without worrying much about what others think of our sexual orientation.
Each of you in this church has the opportunity to help promote gay rights and acceptance. Although we call heterosexual supporters “allies”, I prefer to think of us as warriors. As an ally you have to learn how and when to speak up, but speaking up is essential. It is not enough to simply offer tolerance when much of society offers harm and denigration.
Allegiance to a Flag
A Sermon Delivered on September 15, 2013
By
The Reverend Axel H. Gehrmann
This morning we have heard three perspectives on our efforts, as a religious community, to be welcoming to people who are gay, lesbian, transgender, or bisexual. This flag – the rainbow flag – serves as both symbol and statement of our efforts today.
Jerry, Rachel, and Jim have shared a bit of their respective stories. But the meaning and history of the flag reaches beyond our lives and our church.
To provide a bit of background, I would like to share a fourth perspective with you. These are the words of Gilbert Baker, the man who designed the first gay pride flag. He writes:
“My story is one of creation and conflict, courage and freedom. It is about the fabric that helped empower a community. Dramatic? Well, of course. I'm a drag queen. But every word of it is true. I created the Rainbow Flag.
…I first flew [it] in San Francisco's Castro district in 1978. Love it or hate it, it is rich in its history. This flag has no rules. It has no protocol that governs its display. It is the community's for the taking.
And the GLBT community has embraced it with pride, determination and diversity. …The Rainbow Flag has become the most visible icon for our community worldwide.
There's an old saying among flag makers: A true flag can never be designed, but is torn from the soul of a people. My journey began with isolation growing up gay in Middle America, the taunts of classmates, and being drafted into the Army during the Vietnam War the day I turned 19. Commanding officers treated me to relentless threats of violence.
Instead of being discharged, I was reassigned. Stationed in San Francisco as a nurse, I cared for the wounded. I also met my closest friend and mentor, Harvey Milk…
Harvey was a pioneer, a trailblazer, and with the community by his side, he became a San Francisco Supervisor. One day he said to me that we needed a logo, a symbol. We needed a positive image that could unite us. I sewed my own dresses, so why not a flag? At Harvey's behest, I went about creating our Rainbow Flag. I had never felt so empowered, so free.
My liberation came at a painful cost. In the ultimate act of anti-gay violence, Harvey Milk and Mayor George Moscone were assassinated. The bullets were meant for Harvey, to silence him, and, by extension, every one of us. Uniting a community cost him his life.
The strides we have made since I first flew the Rainbow Flag are unprecedented. The United States' GLBT community is more visible than ever before. We face fewer hurdles and less violence than we once did. I can only hope that the events of my life, and the lives of friends I've lost, have made being gay just a bit easier.” (from an article entitled “Pride-Flyin’ Flag” in MetroWeekly, October, 18, 2007)
* * *
Yes, some progress has been made, but our work is far from complete. 35 years have now passed since Harvey Milk was shot in San Francisco, and 15 years have passed since Matthew Shepard was attacked outside Laramie, Wyoming.
But just last month a transgender young woman named Islan Nettles was beaten to death on the streets of New York City. New York is considered a gay-friendly city, but still walking down the street simply holding hands is dangerous for same-sex couples. The New York Police Department says, there were already 29 reported antigay hate crimes in New York City by late May this year, an increase of 70 percent compared with the same period last year.
* * *
In this country, when we pledge allegiance to a flag - more often than not - we are expressing our loyalty, not to a flag with six colors of the rainbow, but three colors: red, white and blue. It’s called “Old Glory” or “The Star-Spangled Banner.” And it is a treasured symbol of this nation’s highest ideals: one nation under God, indivisible, with liberty and justice for all.
President Woodrow Wilson said, “The things that the flag stands for were created by the experiences of great people. Everything that it stands for was written by their lives.”
In some ways the two flags are similar. Both reflect the soul of a people. Both express our yearning to live in freedom and to be treated fairly. But while there are several laws and regulations about Old Glory – for instance, it should be displayed “only from sunrise to sunset,” and “hoisted briskly and lowered ceremoniously” - in contrast, the rainbow flag has no rules, no protocol. It is ours for the taking.
And while the Stars and Stripes represent the 50 particular states and 13 historical colonies of this country, the rainbow flag’s symbolism affirms more universal ideas. In Gilbert Baker’s mind, each of the flag’s colors conveys a particular meaning: Red is for life. Orange is for healing. Yellow is for sunlight. Green is for nature. Blue is for art. Violet is for spirit. Baker’s hope was to affirm life, healing, sunlight, nature, art and spirit. The flag was intended to help share these blessings with all people.
The rainbow is a potent symbol. According to the ancient Jewish story, the rainbow is a sign from God. It is a sign of the promise God made after the flood to Noah and all of his descendants, as well as and with every living creature: the birds, the cattle, and every beast of the earth. The rainbow is a reminder of God’s covenant with all people. A reminder that we are all God’s children, we are all members of one human family.
The rainbow we see in the sky is itself a kind of miracle, a beautiful apparition that seems to be a bridge between heaven and earth. Over the rainbow there is a heavenly paradise. A land that we have always dreamed of, where our troubles melt away, and our dreams of happiness come true.
* * *
Our rainbow flag is meant to be a sign of welcome. But being welcoming is not enough. We need to be warriors, Jim Hannum says, allies and advocates, but above all we need to be active. We need to challenge our cultural status quo, which allows a climate of hate and discrimination to continue.
But what does it mean to be a warrior for justice? What does it mean to be a warrior for freedom? “Operation Just Cause” is what we called the United States’ invasion of Panama in 1989. And “Operation Enduring Freedom” is what we called our war in Afghanistan. Warriors, above all, seem to be men and women in the military.
But this is not the only way to understand what it means to be a warrior. The Buddhist teacher Pema Chodron speaks of a warrior spirit that’s required to confront the challenges of advancing on the path toward enlightenment and truth.
A bodhisattva is generally understood to be someone who has attained enlightenment, but rather than leaving the world and entering nirvana, the bodhisattva turns around and re-enters the world, in order to help others find relief from suffering. It is an act of supreme compassion and courage.
Bodhisattvas are warriors, Chodron says, “not warriors who kill and harm but warriors of nonaggression who hear the cries of the world.” Their religious practice involves awakening a spirit of unconditional compassion. They are “compassion warriors,” and their training involves intentionally entering challenging situations in order to alleviate suffering. This is called “training in the middle of fire.”
Offering examples of master warriors, Chodron cites Mother Teresa and Martin Luther King, Jr, who realized that the greatest harm comes from our own aggressive minds, and who devoted their lives to helping others understand this truth. Mother Teresa and Dr. King served the poorest of the poor, and stood in solidarity with those treated as second-class citizens. They knew that real warrior training means awakening our own courage and love.
Pema Chodron writes,
“Many of us prefer practices that will not cause discomfort, yet at the same time we want to be healed. But [compassion] training doesn’t work that way. A warrior accepts that we can never know what will happen to us next. We can try to control the uncontrollable by looking for security and predictability, always hoping to be comfortable and safe. But the truth is that we can never avoid uncertainty. This not knowing is part of the adventure, and it’s also what makes us afraid.” (The Places That Scare You, p. 6)
* * *
Sometimes being a warrior means confronting even the people closest to us – our parents, family-members, and friends – and challenging them to be more understanding, more accepting and more loving.
And being a warrior can mean leaving the comfort and safety of our homes, and making our support of the GLBT community publicly known. Some of us did just that, yesterday, at the Urbana Pride Celebration, down the street at Lincoln Square, setting up and staffing a table with pictures and posters and pamphlets that explained who we are, as a church, and what we believe.
The convictions we hold privately are important, but they gain much greater power when they are expressed in public. It isn’t easy, and can feel risky. It means daring to come out of our closets, and being willing to face the taunts of those who are unwilling to accept their gay and lesbian brothers and sisters. Standing in solidarity with them means – in some small way – exposing ourselves to the same threats visible members of the GLBT community have long faced.
For most of us, these threats will never take the shape of physical violence. But nevertheless the threats are real.
Five years ago Unitarian Universalists across the country were shocked when one Sunday morning a crazed gunman open fire in a UU church in Knoxville, Tennessee. Two people were killed and several others wounded. The police, at the time, said the shooter was driven by a hate for liberals and gay people. He chose the UU church as his target, because the congregation was known in the community for being progressive and welcoming.
It was in the wake of this tragedy, that the Unitarian Universalist Association launched a public advocacy campaign called “Standing on the Side of Love.” The first hymn we sang this morning, of the same title, was written by UU minister Jason Shelton, and became the guiding image of our initiative. The song is a musical expression of our efforts to respond to hate with love.
Today, our “Standing on the Side of Love” campaign is not limited to advocacy for the GLBT community and marriage equality. It supports immigrants’ rights, and challenges economic exploitation, and the many faces of racism.
* * *
This rainbow flag has been hanging inside our church lobby for years now, above the stairs at our south entrance. It has served as a sign for all who entered our doors, that we aspire to be a welcoming congregation – especially welcoming to our GLBT sisters and brothers. It was a sign for those who had already entered the privacy of our religious home.
Today we will dedicate a flag that is prominently mounted outside our doors. It is a more public expression and thus a more powerful expression of our support of the inherent worth and dignity of all people. It is an expression of our desire to be compassion warriors, warriors who have the courage to confront hatred with love.
I invite you to join me outside, right after this service, for a brief dedication of our flag facing Green Street.
May we be warriors, who serve the poorest of the poor.
May we be warriors, who stand in solidarity with all those
who are bullied and taunted and treated as second-class citizens.
May we be warriors, whose words and deeds prove that all people are God’s children, that we are indivisible, that we are one,
So that some day our troubles will melt away like lemon drops, and our dreams of liberty and justice will come true.
Amen.
Flag Dedication
WE DEDICATE THIS FLAG
To our ongoing efforts to promote justice. On this very day, there are still countless religious individuals and institutions who openly express intolerance, practice exclusion, and condone violence toward our gay, lesbian, bi-sexual, and transgender brothers and sisters.
WE DEDICATE THIS FLAG
To our ongoing task of making clear, in word and deed, that we are different.
WE DEDICATE THIS FLAG
To declare that we are consciously affirming and actively supportive of people of all sexual orientations and gender presentation.
WE DEDICATE THIS FLAG
To our congregation’s ongoing commitment to help heal centuries of religious and social oppression and prejudice.
WE DEDICATE THIS FLAG
As a public expression of our efforts to make our church a sanctuary of spiritual growth and welcome.
In this spirit
WE DEDICATE THIS FLAG
No comments:
Post a Comment