Pride, Abuse, and Grief

The Union County Pride Festival in Monroe, NC this last week was an experience like no other. On one hand, it was the second Pride I have ever attended. On the other, it was the first Pride I have ever helped organize. That made it an experience in which I had responsibility to help oversee aspects of the event and make sure it ran smoothly. Mostly, that responsibility lay along the lines of my ministerial role, even if I were not directly participating on behalf of the church I serve.

Publicly, my first and foremost responsibility was for the Interfaith Celebration I wrote, organized, and directed (unioncountypride.org/interfaith). The service was planned to be inclusive for people of all and no faiths. That is in no way representative of any service I would normally lead. It was, however, necessary, given those for whom the celebration was prepared. Beyond simply being a celebration designed to call for inclusion and acceptance, the event was geared for people who have in large part suffered lots of abuse from various religious backgrounds—religious abuse.

How does one lead a religious service for people whose greatest experience with religion and faith is mostly draped in abuse? It’s a tall order, but then, abuse is not a value of any religious tradition I know. It is rather something that religion of any sort calls us to counter. Finding themes of welcome, hospitality, and acceptance that span many religious traditions is hardly a stretch. Focusing on commonalities among those faiths is simple enough, even if there are many points on which those same traditions would argue with no end in sight.

The rest of the day after the conclusion of the interfaith celebration was an altogether different quantity. As my wife had been preparing to provide security and peace-keeping at the festival, my own task was somewhat related, although focused more on spiritual concerns. We were aware of protesters planning to attend, as well as groups planning to send teams in twos and threes to offer an evangelistic witness. My concerns over that revolved around the trauma so many in the LGBTQ+ community have experienced from so many religious communities. Being confronted with any hardcore evangelistic push for them could be far more a triggering experience for them, dissolving any hope to bring them closer to a life of faith.

Mostly, I did not need to intervene in events happening. I was called at one point to respond to just such a crisis I had feared might occur. One “evangelist” approached a family and left their child distraught and in tears. I went over to speak with them. “I don’t know what they said to you, but know that God loves you.” We talked for a bit over several things. I mentioned how people become uncomfortable with what they don’t understand and often react out of fear. I told the child how sorry I was that they had to bear the brunt of that fear, but that it was not a reflection on them. I reminded them they were in the midst of a big community that had turned out to demonstrate its love and support for them, regardless of their identity or orientation.

I talked with the parents in the child’s presence about available support groups and organizations represented among the vendor booths around us who could offer different kinds of resources. We spent some time connecting and deescalating emotions and tensions. It was important that I was there visibly dressed in clergy garb along with pride colors to help counterbalance the message of condemnation and what was at minimum perceived as a message of hate in the name of religion.

That was a holy encounter amid a context of chaos and pain. Watching a face torn to tears shift to an open countenance with the beginnings of a confident smile was more than a positive experience. It was both a transforming moment in which I was privileged to participate and one that filled me with grief over it being necessary. Leaving a child shattered over feeling unworthy and unwanted is not the product of a message of good news. It is some altogether different message that just happens to claim a divine authority it does not have.

That was not my only conversation yesterday. I was also called over to spell a peace-keeper who was serving as barrier to a protester. He began trying to engage me, as he had been told I had lost my job over my association with Union County Pride. I asked him if he actually wanted to converse or whether he just wanted to talk. That seemed to take him back a step, but he indicated that conversation was good, so we began to converse, setting aside the vitriol. I figured we would not really come to much of any agreement, but we could build a bridge or two towards understanding.

Following on his first question, I responded that I was still pastor at the church where we had first looked at holding a Drag Queen Story Hour, but that such a decision had never been made. Publicity had gone out and muddled any decision-making, which was then take out of our hands. I also reported that I had specifically been asked to continue my work with Union County Pride. We discussed how it was only in 1946 with the RSV that the term homosexual or homosexuality even entered our translations of the Bible.

He was familiar with arguments about Sodom’s destruction being over how they treated outsiders, and he had not been convinced by them. We talked about how Jesus did not go around condemning people so much as offering them an understanding of God’s love. We talked about how the term gospel means good news, not condemnation. We talked about teen suicide rates among the LGBTQ+ community. I mentioned that my goal was to bring hope, healing, and acceptance to a group that faced so much animosity.

He seemed a little surprised that we could talk civilly and that I knew the Bible and appeared to hold it in esteem. Then one of the other protesters came over attempting to intimate that I had never read the Bible. He did not take too kindly to the notion that I had read the Bible in more than one language, while he had not actually read the entire Bible. He was determined that if I were not willing to condemn homosexuality outright, I was in opposition to Christ and headed to hell.

The next conversation was a little different. One of the vendors indicated I should intervene in another conversation nearby. Three folks intent on evangelizing were talking with a couple of the attendees. I went over to observe and determine whether I needed to intervene, but the conversation taking place was civil and respectful. No one was antagonizing anyone, they were just on completely different pages. I felt no need to intervene, but I stood there in case a buffer were needed. When the two participants left, the others invited me to talk.

They had noticed I was not fully in agreement with them, but kindly asked a few questions. They started with making sure I was on the same page in terms of accepting the Bible. Yes, that is foundational to the Christian faith of any tradition. I had some nit-picky issues with some of the claims they had made about the Bible. One asked why I had not joined in the conversation to help them, so I responded in terms of why I was present at all. Yes, I am as concerned as they about inviting everyone present to faith in Christ, but I understand a need to do that in a way that is respectful of why the community was gathered and the baggage of religious trauma so many of them were dealing with.

I mentioned the child left crying, and they were aware of the incident and equally disgusted with it. My presence as leader for the Pride Interfaith Celebration, however, gave me the open door to speak with the family and child from a position of respect that these individuals had not earned. As good as my intentions might be about sharing faith with another, it must start at a point of respect, love, understanding, and grace. As much as they want to talk about God’s love, the community around them was incapable of hearing that message in the midst of people protesting alongside these evangelists with a message of condemnation.

One of them asked how I would share the gospel. We talked for a bit about how there is no formula to be applied everywhere. There is no “Roman’s Road of Salvation” in the Gospel of John. In fact, Jesus presented three different messages of redemption to Nicodemus in chapter three. Then in chapter four he used a completely different tack to speak of faith with the woman at the well. Then in chapter five he used a different method, and different again in chapters six, seven, eight, nine, and ten. Along the way, he never condemned the people to whom he was speaking.

One asked about repentance, and I agreed that repentance is necessary, but noted that Jesus saw no need to tell people they were sinners. They already knew as much. His concern was first of all to make sure they knew that God’s love, grace, and goodwill extended to them. I shared some experience working with partnership mission teams in Brazil. Some of them liked to ask people, “If you were to die tonight, are you assured of your salvation?” I reminded them that in some circumstances among the right people, that question might be appropriate. It would not have been appropriate with the two men they had been speaking with who did not even accept the existence of God.

They had not heard of Engel’s scale of evangelism, so we talked about that for a bit in terms of bringing people from an acceptance of God’s existence through acceptance that God desires our reconciliation, on through expressing some interest, making a commitment, and following through in discipleship, allowing God to transform their lives. If I am going to witness to someone, I need to know where they are and then determine how to proceed in leading them in making their next step toward faith in God. I need first to get to know them and let them know that above all else I care for them.

As we were wrapping up our conversation, one of them asked me to clarify if I agreed that homosexuality is a sin. I told them that I am processing, but that essentially, Jesus summed up God’s will as loving God and loving one another. If sin is that which goes against God’s will, then it must in some way be unloving. I have yet to hear any justification for how homosexuality is unloving, unkind, or harmful to others. We are dealing with a concept that Jesus never mentioned, so I am going to have to place more weight on Jesus’ statement that God’s will is that we always be loving.

In closing, one of the men suggested we might meet for coffee to talk about that further. I’d be glad to. Conversation and dialogue are sorely lacking in our midst. These last three were folks who are wanting to do good. They were not there to badger anyone. In the context of Union County’s first Pride event with lots of protesters claiming the name of Jesus in words of condemnation, their timing was just off and they had not done their homework. They had not built any foundation for sharing what they considered an important and positive message to share.

Did I accomplish everything I wanted to in my role and participation with Union County Pride? No, and I doubt I ever will. My concern all the way through, however, was to undo some of the tremendous harm that has been heaped upon the LGBTQ+ community by way too many people bandying God, Jesus, and religion to bludgeon and condemn what they don’t understand. There is a lot more of that out there than I will ever be able to stamp out or correct. I can only do what I can do. The task is far greater than me, and just as all those varied faith traditions mentioned in the interfaith celebration, it takes a diverse community to lead us to the point where we can build bridges that bring about understanding and respect for our differences. It is only upon that foundation of respect that we can begin to share God’s love. Without it, our pride gets in the way and causes a lot of grief.

— ©Copyright 2022, Christopher B. Harbin 

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