Rev. Jeff Falter answered the call. So should we.
The Fall 2005 issue of Equality, the Human Rights Campaign's quarterly magazine, contains an article about a pastor who was removed from his position after coming out in support of GLBT Christians. Rev. Jeff Falter's congregation voted to fire him after he published a sermon in an Elkins, West Virginia newspaper in February that said, "Gay and lesbian Christians are no different than the rest of us. They deserve full equality in the church and in society, for they are my brothers and sisters, people for whom Christ died."
This hardly seems like a fireable offense, but after four years of service the congregation voted to dissolve its relationship with Rev. Falter by a vote of 100-72.
As GLBT Christians, we should renew our efforts to applaud folks who take a risk and express truths like these. It shouldn't be a risk at all. But it is. The climate is not favorable for homosexuals in many religious circles, so saying something that suggests we are not immoral or somehow lesser than, incites fear and panic.
I remember studying the end of slavery in social studies class in eighth grade, and we learned that the idea that all people are indeed created equal was an essential part of the eventual willingness to part with the evil tradition. My classmates and I agreed that "Duh!" was an adequate way to sum up those discussions. During the early 1800's, slave owners had been quite content with the idea that black people were unequal and therefore undeserving of the same rights and privileges that white men enjoyed. But it's easy to see that this feeling of supremacy was not justified. When GLBT folks are finally awarded legal equality and future students recall our recent history as a civil rights movement, perhaps the ability to perceive our equality will be just as simple.
Perhaps the understanding that equality should extend to minorities is generational. Perhaps it's geographical. Regardless, equality is inherent. It's not something we earn when we behave in a manner that becomes acceptable to a select few religious authorities, and it's not something we lose when we disappoint them. They do not have the final say. The congregation who voted out Rev. Jeff Falter may have chosen their battle and won, but the things they have lost hold far greater value and have much more impact. They lost a light. A congregation that eagerly snuffs out a flame that burns a little more brightly than they are prepared for is not better off because they have exercised the power to extinguish it. They have not successfully rid themselves of a cancer. They have called attention to their own sickness.
Fear is just one symptom of a greater American disease; the disease of egocentrism. Not only does egocentrism mean the ego becomes the center of all of our experiences, but it also means we consider those experiences to be the norm. In a philosophical system, egocentrism requires that one's own self become the starting point, and all actions and perceptions travel outward from that point. It's not a stretch to suggest that we might be a bit egocentric in the U.S. In an egocentric society, those who don't fit into the subjective norm are often cast aside and labeled as reprehensible and immoral. Heterosexuality may be the norm in our society only because there are more straight people than gay in America, but egocentrism is the real reason why heterosexuals and homosexuals don't peaceably coexist. (Actually, homosexuals seem to be quite content with the idea that many people are different from themselves, and are attracted to members of the opposite sex. Homosexuals may not be able to relate or fully understand heterosexuality, but they are not threatened by its existence.) Fear, a product of egocentrism, causes those with different experiences to lash out and condemn the things that don't seem to apply or can't be easily understood.
In the case of Rev. Jeff Falter, egocentrism manifested itself in the form of a public effort to purge the church of the idea that homosexuality should be embraced and not condemned. Rev. Falter simply suggested that GLBT Christians should possess a glimmer of pride that God views us as equals, but the congregation made every effort to extinguish this flame altogether. What they don't realize is, their action called attention to Rev. Falter's sermon and it allowed his sentiment to echo with greater depth than it otherwise would have. The congregation didn't extinguish a flame. They added the fuel that was necessary to allow the fire to spread beyond their own borders. And it's still burning.
HRC asked Rev. Falter if he would still publish the sermon if he had the chance to do it all over again. Here is his answer:
"Would I do it all again? Absolutely. At the end of the day, I take comfort in Christ’s words, Blessed are you when people hate you, and when they exclude you, revile you, and defame you on account of the Son of Man. Rejoice in that day and leap for joy, for surely your reward is great in heaven; for that is what their ancestors did to the prophets. [Luke 6: 22-23] I know that at the end of the day, I can look myself in the mirror: I have answered Christ’s call to me despite the cost."
May this be true of us as well. To join Rev. Falter in answering the call is the very least we can do. GLBT Christians risk relationships with friends and family members, we risk careers, and we risk being condemned by other Christians, but the real danger is in doing nothing at all. God is speaking through Rev. Falter, through you, and through me. And as we become more willing participants, God's ability to transform the world through all of us becomes magnified.
This hardly seems like a fireable offense, but after four years of service the congregation voted to dissolve its relationship with Rev. Falter by a vote of 100-72.
As GLBT Christians, we should renew our efforts to applaud folks who take a risk and express truths like these. It shouldn't be a risk at all. But it is. The climate is not favorable for homosexuals in many religious circles, so saying something that suggests we are not immoral or somehow lesser than, incites fear and panic.
I remember studying the end of slavery in social studies class in eighth grade, and we learned that the idea that all people are indeed created equal was an essential part of the eventual willingness to part with the evil tradition. My classmates and I agreed that "Duh!" was an adequate way to sum up those discussions. During the early 1800's, slave owners had been quite content with the idea that black people were unequal and therefore undeserving of the same rights and privileges that white men enjoyed. But it's easy to see that this feeling of supremacy was not justified. When GLBT folks are finally awarded legal equality and future students recall our recent history as a civil rights movement, perhaps the ability to perceive our equality will be just as simple.
Perhaps the understanding that equality should extend to minorities is generational. Perhaps it's geographical. Regardless, equality is inherent. It's not something we earn when we behave in a manner that becomes acceptable to a select few religious authorities, and it's not something we lose when we disappoint them. They do not have the final say. The congregation who voted out Rev. Jeff Falter may have chosen their battle and won, but the things they have lost hold far greater value and have much more impact. They lost a light. A congregation that eagerly snuffs out a flame that burns a little more brightly than they are prepared for is not better off because they have exercised the power to extinguish it. They have not successfully rid themselves of a cancer. They have called attention to their own sickness.
Fear is just one symptom of a greater American disease; the disease of egocentrism. Not only does egocentrism mean the ego becomes the center of all of our experiences, but it also means we consider those experiences to be the norm. In a philosophical system, egocentrism requires that one's own self become the starting point, and all actions and perceptions travel outward from that point. It's not a stretch to suggest that we might be a bit egocentric in the U.S. In an egocentric society, those who don't fit into the subjective norm are often cast aside and labeled as reprehensible and immoral. Heterosexuality may be the norm in our society only because there are more straight people than gay in America, but egocentrism is the real reason why heterosexuals and homosexuals don't peaceably coexist. (Actually, homosexuals seem to be quite content with the idea that many people are different from themselves, and are attracted to members of the opposite sex. Homosexuals may not be able to relate or fully understand heterosexuality, but they are not threatened by its existence.) Fear, a product of egocentrism, causes those with different experiences to lash out and condemn the things that don't seem to apply or can't be easily understood.
In the case of Rev. Jeff Falter, egocentrism manifested itself in the form of a public effort to purge the church of the idea that homosexuality should be embraced and not condemned. Rev. Falter simply suggested that GLBT Christians should possess a glimmer of pride that God views us as equals, but the congregation made every effort to extinguish this flame altogether. What they don't realize is, their action called attention to Rev. Falter's sermon and it allowed his sentiment to echo with greater depth than it otherwise would have. The congregation didn't extinguish a flame. They added the fuel that was necessary to allow the fire to spread beyond their own borders. And it's still burning.
HRC asked Rev. Falter if he would still publish the sermon if he had the chance to do it all over again. Here is his answer:
"Would I do it all again? Absolutely. At the end of the day, I take comfort in Christ’s words, Blessed are you when people hate you, and when they exclude you, revile you, and defame you on account of the Son of Man. Rejoice in that day and leap for joy, for surely your reward is great in heaven; for that is what their ancestors did to the prophets. [Luke 6: 22-23] I know that at the end of the day, I can look myself in the mirror: I have answered Christ’s call to me despite the cost."
May this be true of us as well. To join Rev. Falter in answering the call is the very least we can do. GLBT Christians risk relationships with friends and family members, we risk careers, and we risk being condemned by other Christians, but the real danger is in doing nothing at all. God is speaking through Rev. Falter, through you, and through me. And as we become more willing participants, God's ability to transform the world through all of us becomes magnified.
posted by Jen Austin at 1:41 PM
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