Language of Reverence: Queer (November 17, 2013)

Story for All Ages

I think most of you probably know a story about a family of ducks, where all of the children were yellow and fluffy, except one which was sort of a subdued earth tone with a long skinny neck. He was not very attractive by duck standards, so they called him … yell it out if you know?

Well, I can’t help but wonder what would have happened if those ducks had gone to the kind of church where the children’s teacher might have heard the mean things they were saying to that different looking duck, and said:

“you don’t have to be yellow to be beautiful,
a long skinny neck is just as beautiful as a short thick one.

But more importantly, Dave, the one you call the ugly duckling, is caring, and funny, and helps take care of the lake he lives in. His outsides don’t really tell you much about who he is.”

And even though all of you are yellow and fluffy,
that doesn’t mean you are all the same inside.

Why don’t we each share something that makes us different and special.”

And maybe then the ducks would have understood
how important it is that each person is unique,

The moral of my story was best said by one of my professors, Elis Farajaje-Jones "None of us is just like everybody else. We don’t have to be like everybody else to be guaranteed the right to safe and whole existences. We want to create a world where everyone is able to discover and define and live by who they are, who they are becoming, with the option to change several times throughout the course of their lives. "

Sermon
Maybe a decade ago I used the word “Queer” in a public meeting to describe myself. One of the members of my congregation came to me afterwards and admonished me “NEVER use the word queer about yourself- you don’t have to put yourself down like that.”

Her comment shocked me into remembering that for many people “Queer” is a sticky word. But for me it is just right. As a bisexual woman married to a man, I have always felt that both the words “gay” and “straight” didn’t fit right; either word felt a little dishonest. I’m also not crazy about the word “bisexual” – not only does it sound kind of clinical, but it doesn’t sound like you can be monogamous when you’ve got the prefix for “2” right in the word there.

When one of my seminary professors, who name was then Elias Farajaje-Jones, delivered the Sophia Fahs Lecture in 2000 (the lecture is named after the famous UU religious educator) I had just made the choice to enter into the Ministry of Religious education, which many people perceive as kind of a marginal sort of ministry that involves mostly cutting out construction paper shapes and lining up magic markers. When Elias delivered his lecture “Queer(y)ing Religious Education: Teaching the R(evolutionary S9ub)V(ersions)! Or Relax!... It’s Just Religious Ed” it was like some walls I had in my mind came crumbling down. I suddenly knew that I was a queer person doing a queer ministry. I knew that the ministry of Religious Education is not tame and marginal to our movement, but radical, revolutionary and at the core of religious formation as Unitarian Universalists.

So what do I mean by “Queer” in this expanded context? First, queer means “non-normative.” We have been raised to believe that some things are “normal” and other things are “not normal.” We get the message every day that being straight is normal, being white is normal, being able-bodied is normal, being middle-class is normal. (Or if you watch a lot of tv it starts to seem like being rich is normal). Living in this valley we start to get the impression that being Christian is normal, being politically conservative is normal. When I use the word “queer” I mean anything that defies those norms.

When the Gay and Lesbian rights movement started here in the US, those brave activists were fighting to add “Gay” to the possible categories that a person could be. So we had “Gay” and “straight” – expanding the number of norms to 2. It’s even in our Hymnal [sing] “we are Gay and Straight together” Then the Bisexual folks came along and said “Actually…” Our thinking has evolved as we realized that not only is straight not “normal” but there is no “normal” way to be gay. Being a person who identifies as bisexual, I don’t want my own third box, I want to queer all those norms. I want to have room to be whoever it is I really am. Dr. Farajaje said that day: “Heterosexual identity exists only by virtue of defining itself as the norm over against queer deviation. But if there really is no norm, then there aren’t really any deviations. We’re all then just a big mix of possibilities of desire just waiting to happen!” [p. 29]

I am reminded of a song by that great singer-songwriter Ani Difranco:

when I was four years old
they tried to test my I.Q.
they showed me a picture
of 3 oranges and a pear
they said,
which one is different?
it does not belong
they taught me different is wrong

We were all taught at a young age to assume that if there is 3 of one thing it is “normal” and whatever is different “does not belong”. What I am trying to suggest that not only can the pear take pride in being “queer” but that oranges are not normative.

My fruit analogy is breaking down quickly, so let’s look at Race for example. Scientists tell us that race is not biological, but an intellectual construct. In American we often talk about race by dividing it into two neat categories “White” and “People of Color” even though we know that, for example, Irish immigrants used to be considered non-white and are now considered white. We know that President Obama is of mixed race, he is often referred to as the first Black president. What if we changed the way we thought about race to acknowledge that there is no such thing as “racial purity” -that we are all racially queer? It was only in the year 2000 that the US Census allowed people to check more than one box under “race”, that people didn’t have to choose one part of themselves and discard the rest.

Moreover, Dr. Farajaje is proposing, with many others in cultural theory, that gender, sexuality, race, class, whether we are temporarily able bodied, “These things are inseparable for us; we cannot and will not pull these apart without doing irreparable violence to our very bodies, souls, and minds.” [p. 26] He calls this “Intersexionality.” All the parts of who we are intersect. In our adult RE class last spring I invited all the participants to write down 5 identity words for themselves. People wrote things like “White, gay, mother, UU, able-bodied, male” Many of us struggled with the exercise- how do you know which 5 to pick? No matter what words you pick you are leaving out part of yourself.

Each of those words describes a whole multiplicity of ways of being. For example, how many of you self-identify as “white”? Now look around at all the different ways there are of being “white” --what Dr. Farajaje might call “multiplicities of whiteness”. Or let’s take another one- If you are willing to out yourself as identifying “temporarily able-bodied” please raise your hand. Look how many different bodies this describes! There are multiplicities of being temporarily able-bodied.

By looking at the world, at one another, in this complex, intersexional, holistic way, I propose that we are doing something radical. We are interrupting that conversation about “which one is different and does not belong” We are interrupting norms, we are breaking walls and boxes. Scholars in the field of cultural studies love to use words like “interrupting” or “interrogating” which to me is describes the moment in the Wizard of Oz when Toto pulls the curtain back and we see the “wise and powerful Oz” as he really is- an ordinary man from Kansas who got lost. These boxes, these walls, these definitions of who we are and what is normal are not divinely given, which becomes clear as we pull back the curtain to see how they work and where they come from. This we can call “Queering” the conversation, because we are creating that space not defined by walls and boxes.

This is a dangerous act. Today we honored transgender people who have been victims of violence. Gender theorists believe this violence arises because our culture finds it so threatening that anyone lives outside the two-box gender system- male and female. We also honored those who took their own lives because it was too painful not to be able to fit easily into the two boxes our society defines… to painful to live in a culture which asks “Which one is different and does not belong.” I call us to interrupt this conversation, to “queer” this conversation by saying “everyone is different, and everyone belongs!”

That is why Queering the conversation is also healing. Back when I was doing the internship every UU minister has to do in a hospital, I worked in the outpatient Cancer center. A kind, wise, circumspect woman I had the privilege of talking with told me: “my doctors don’t treat me, they treat people like me, that is --people with cancer.” It is hard to heal when people don’t see you, they just see a box. When her treatment wasn’t working like it should, when she had unusual side effects, or when she wanted treatment alternatives, she was constantly banging up against the walls of that box “Cancer patient.” I suspect every one of us has some part of our self that does not fit neatly into boxes-- some part of ourselves that does not look like the images we see on TV or in the movies. This leads us to feel “broken” or “incomplete” or “damaged” or “abnormal.” By radically acknowledging all that we are, we become whole just as we are. By radically affirming that each and every one of us belongs, our communities are made whole.

For me, reframing myself from “not-really straight and not-really gay” to someone who was perfectly and completely queer filled me with a sense of pride and belonging. To hear that my non-normative call to the Ministry of Religious Education was still at the heart of ministry, to hear that I was not giving up my radical, questioning revolutionary self to in taking on “religious Educator” as part of my identity was so healing and affirming. This reframing helped me realize that I didn’t have to throw away the box called “religious Educator” to enter a box called “parish minister” when I came to this congregation, because religious education is not just something that happens upstairs with children, if we let it out of its box, it is happening right here, right now.

When I was in the process of applying to seminary, I sent away for the catalogs for the 3 uu seminaries. I looked over the high gloss brochure from Harvard and noticed that there was a page about their “women’s studies” department. I read the brochure from Starr King and I noticed that women and queer people didn’t have their own department, they were right there in the body of the catalog. As Dr. Farajaje, who joined the Starr King faculty when I was in my last year at the school, writes about his approach to teaching “Each class that I teach, whether it be liberating the Bible for UUs , African Religious in Diaspora, or the Divine Feminine in Russian Orthodox religious thought is taught in a way that calls us to continually and simultaneously consider issues of race, class, gender, embodiment, environmental issues, cultural representations, sexualities etc. These are not treated as peripheral considerations.”

We often wonder “what is UU?” Members of every congregation I’ve ever served have come to me and said “Can I really be UU because I am … in the armed forces, republican, Christian, a person of color, transgender, Jewish, pagan, atheist, undecided?” “Do I fit in this UU Box?”

This, I believe, is part of our calling as Unitarian Universalists in the 21st century. Let this church be a place where you don’t have to leave your sexual orientation at the door, you don’t have to leave your financial situation at home, you don’t have to leave your body at home. Theology, spirituality is not something that hovers above the body, but I believe it is deeply embedded, imminent in everything that we are. We are all part of one interdependent web of life. From the very first days of Universalism we were rejecting the two-box system (the elect and the rest of us who were damned) We reject the two box system of heaven and hell. We reject the two box system of God and the Devil. Back in 1805, the great Universalist preacher Hosea Ballou suggested:

Is [God] not perfectly joined to his creation? Do we not live, move and have our being in God? …to take the smallest creature from him, … you have left something less than infinity.” (Treatise on Atonement p. 81-82)

We believe in a God who can hold all our queerness, all our multiplicities.

Our Unitarian Tradition has always been one that looks behind the curtain, to see who is defining the parameters, who is making the boxes into which we are asked to fit. Our Unitarian Tradition challenges us to open our minds beyond the conventional ways of looking at things. Our Universalist Tradition challenges us to open our hearts to hold every being in the oneness of the divine.

This is why I propose to your with great pride, that ours is a queer theology. Or perhaps that in this ambitious tradition we stand in, we are “queering” theology. We are “queering” church. We have talked about many words over this past year that constitute for us a “Language of Reverence.” I humbly suggest that we add “queer” to this list, because it honors something special about the radically inclusive place we strive to occupy among religious communities, and because it honors the wholeness of each and every one of us; all that we are, and all that we bring.

Gun Violence: A Dialogue (November 3, 2013)

Note- This sermon was part of a dialogue. A member of the congregation spoke first about the right to bare arms, then I spoke, then he spoke about the responsability for safety, then I spoke again. I will try to encourage him to consolidate his remarks in writing so they can be included here.

First Reflection

I remember walking home from the bus stop with one of the older girls from my elementary school. I can’t remember how the conversation started, but I remember her asking:

“Would you kill someone if you had a gun, and they had a gun, and you knew if you didn’t kill them they would kill you?”

“No” I said.

She pushed again- disbelieving: “But they will kill you if you don’t shoot them.” As a kid prone to night terrors, I could easily picture the scary man with the gun.

“No” I said “I would never kill anyone for any reason.” It’s surprising to me today that I came to have such strong pacifist convictions at such an early age.

Later, in I was in high school, I remember learning about the Vietnam war from my freshman history teacher who was a veteran of that war. When he taught us about conscientious objectors, I knew that was who I aspired to be (a moot point since there was no draft, and women were not allowed in combat back then anyway.) This right seemed so precious to me- the right to be a pacifist, to refrain from bearing arms.

When I was in seminary, I heard that story about the general and the zen master. This seemed to me to be the pinnacle of Buddhist practice- to face peacefully whatever life presented to you, even if it be a violent threat against your life.

So the position I take about the proliferation of guns in America will not surprise you. I read the Literature review by the Harvard school of Public Health, and see that in study after study there is a direct relationship between the availability of guns and homicide. Across geographic area, across age, across economic class, the more guns that are available the more people die by gun violence. We choose not to have a gun in our home, and I prefer to live in a community where there are limits on access to guns.

When I was young I looked at that famous photo of pacifists putting daisies in the gun barrels of the national guard, and wanted to believe that “love is all you need.” I still believe that sometimes such a tactic does work to de-escalate a violent situation. But I also believe the presence of those guns in such situations were part of what escalated a moment at Kent State University from one of civil unrest into the violent death of 5 unarmed students shot and killed, and 9 others wounded, one of them paralyzed forever. Thinking about Kent State now with 4 decades of hindsight, it is clear that love is not all you need. Today I want us to think carefully about bringing guns into volatile situations because they seem to be too easily used.

I believe that pacifists have an important role in our world- a role I feel called to. A colleague once told the story, probably apocryphal, about a teacher who asked her students to gather in a circle. The students were invited to pass a touch around the circle, from student to student. As the contact passed, it escalated. Each student wanted to pass on a more violent contact than he or she had received. The contact escalated until finally one student stopped, choosing not to continue the cycle of violence. It only took one child to stop the cycle that day.

I choose to live in this country unarmed, even though I know there are 9 guns for every 10 people. I no longer have illusions that putting a daisy in a gun barrel is my best defense, nor that I can “be run through without blinking an eye.” Only that someone has to stop the cycle of violence, and there is a better chance I will make that choice unarmed.

Second Reflection
There are guidelines for pacifist safety too:
You can study how to stay calm and grounded at a political action (I don’t think you can throw a bottle through a store window or hurl epithets at a policeman and call yourself a pacifist).
There are martial arts traditions like Aikido that are purely defensive and never used to attack
There is a school of non-violent communication designed to bring peace and compassion even into our daily interactions. I should probably take this training one of these days- I can’t even get stuck in traffic without allowing my emotions to boil up and over.

What does it mean to be a responsible pacifist? When my friend’s son was born, they decided to raise him without toy guns. No Nerf guns, no squirt guns, no space-alien- laser-blasters. I remember one evening hanging out with that young family watching the child turned every stick, pine-cone and leaf into a pretend gun. His moms shook their heads at this collision of their ideals and their lived reality.
When I was young I believed that if we could just somehow clean every gun off the face of the earth we could all live in peace. Now I suspect that we must acknowledge the reality that we are living in a time and place where incredibly violent and destructive weapons are woven into the fabric of our society, and this is the context in which each of us must look deeply into our own hearts and choose how to live.

I want to be clear that just because I have searched my own heart and know that I am, at this moment in time, a pacifist, doesn’t mean that I believe that is the only position possible. So many peace- loving communities, like Tibet, have been swept off the map when an armed invading force has set their sights on possession and domination. This is a question with no easy answer- is it better to lose your country than to lose your principle of non-violence?

I believe that Martin Luther King’s commitment to non-violent resistance was critical in allowing race relationship in this country to evolve, yet I wonder about the impact of the emergence of the well-armed Black Panther movement. Did the brewing threat of violence hasten the desire to bring racial justice into the legislature? There is a complexity to the way this world works that defies simple answers.

I know that each of us hears a unique call in our hearts, which is why, though I would object and resist if drafted in wartime, I will fight for the rights of veterans returning from duty. In the Hindu text, The Bagavad Gita, the prince Arjuna rides out between two armies, poised to battle one another. He is overcome with a moral dilemma, saying: “We are prepared to kill our own relations out of greed for the pleasures of a kingdom. Better for me if the sons of Dhritarashtra, weapons in hand, were to attack me in battle and kill me unarmed and unresisting.” (p. 56) Sri Krishna (an incarnation of God in human forms) responds “Considering your dharma, you should not vacillate. For a warrior, nothing is higher than a war against evil.” (P. 64) I think as the minister of this community, my job is not to convince you all to become pacifists, but to discover your own dharma- the ethical path you are called to walk.

Perhaps you remember news reports about the Trappist monks in Algeria who found themselves in the middle of a burgeoning civil war. When the Prior of their community refuses armed protection on behalf of his brothers, they call him to task- they remind him that such a choice which puts all their lives at risk must be made by the whole community together in reflection and prayer. After many weeks of discussion and indecision, each eventually decides to stay in this community which has already witnessed increasing violence. They stay, not seeking martyrdom, but because they believe that their non-violent presence in their Muslim neighborhood offers much needed support to a suffering community. Sadly, the worst does come to pass, and 7 of the brothers are kidnapped in the middle of the night, held hostage, and killed. But each had time to reach a decision in his own heart, and each had the support of their brotherhood as they faced their end.

Each one of us has a choice to make, about how we will support and protect our community. We hold in our hearts all those [who were victims of gun violence] whose names we spoke at the beginning of our service as we choose.