Arms wide open - with pride

Members of the DHS Gay-Straight Alliance raising money -
and awareness. They are so amazingly wonderful.
Photo by Charlie Langton

We were recently in San Francisco and spent some time with Aunt Diane. She is an active member of Most Holy Redeemer Catholic Church, which is in the center of San Francisco's Castro District - just a few blocks from where Harvey Milk lived and had a camera store when he made his successful historic bid for the San Francisco Board of Supervisors. Milk was the first openly gay official in the state of California.

You wouldn't think "Catholic" and "gay" are terms that work well together, but if you visited MHR, you'd realize you were wrong. Diane actually found the congregation by Googling "Catholic" and "gay", and was delighted to find a congregation that was deeply rooted in the Gospel of Christ and the traditions of the Catholic Church, while at the same time being fully inclusive and welcoming to others.

I posted on Facebook how moved I was by the morning we spent, both in the Castro and at MHR. What I felt that morning was a welcoming so strong and so pure that it can only be described as radical. As the congregation filed in before Sunday morning services, people went out of their way to greet us, to talk with us, to welcome us. We felt we were sitting among family when the service began, and as we left, people were equally enthusiastic about wishing us well, wishing us safe travels, and wishing that we would return someday.

That commitment to being welcome and being a blessing comes from a group of people who likely, at many times in their lives, felt decidedly unwelcome. They felt ostracized by messages of intolerance and fear. They faced outright rejection when they came out to family and friends. They hid behind windows, curtains, doors and secrets, because they couldn't fathom letting a world so dismissive of differences know who they were.

Like Diane, with courage, they mustered the strength to open the heavy doors to the Church to try again. And there, they felt the radical welcome of a savior whose arms are open to all of His children.

As Damien told me that Sunday, "We take this welcoming shit seriously." Amen, brother.

This Saturday, our little town of 8,000 will celebrate Pride. The planning team is made up of some of my favorite people, and it promises to be quite an event - with parades, parties, music and laughter ... and welcoming.

I have seen and heard comments. It's unnecessary. I don't have a problem with you, but I don't need to have your orientation in my face. I'm fine with gay people - I just don't want them to come on to me. We don't celebrate straight sex. (My response to that one is always, "Really? Are you sure?")

I actually don't mind the comments, as long as they're given in the context of a conversation that really seeks to understand. Many people haven't been blessed with the family and friends I have who happen to be gay. There are many things they don't know or don't get.

All I'm going to say is please remember as you discuss and comment, both in person and on social media, our LGBTQ brothers and sisters are watching and listening. They are noticing how we respond, how we react, and how we welcome or decide not to. They are in your homes, your workplace, your churches. Some of them are your children, and you may not know that yet. They are quiet because they are scared, and in many cases, with very good reason.

These are good, loyal, true and beautifully-made people, with hearts that love and arms that long to be open and accepted by others. Please don't think they're immune to comments that, even unintentionally, are uninformed, insensitive and downright unkind. They are not a mistake, they are not a scandal and they are not an embarrassment. If you feel that way, or if you feel they need fixing somehow, or they just need to go away and hide, I encourage you to do some self-reflecting.

And back to the whole church thing, we need to consider what Jesus is telling us to do when he instructs us to welcome and be a blessing.

Several years ago, Diane sent me a note that still leaves me breathless. Her partner, Michal, had been chronically ill for many years and was on dialysis. Diane's note told me she was preparing to donate one of her kidneys for her. Here’s what she told me:

“The opportunity to do this is the most glorious blessing God could bestow upon me. We think we may be able to set a date in the next week or so, so it could be as soon as a month away. A little scary but so much joy in the possibility.”

There are so many marvelous things about this story, and I hate to demean it by sharing it in a context in which people might politicize it. But can we say with a straight face to this couple that their love isn’t representative of how God intended love to work?

My prayer (in addition to continued health - the surgery was a success) is that an increasing number of Americans and Christians will answer “no” to both questions. Gay or straight, may we all grow to learn the wonder of that kind of love for another person.