Summer Choir at MCC of the Spirit

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Last BINGO of the Season

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Money to Spare? - How Stimulating!

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TransCentralPA Speaker Series Presents:

"Brain Gender Identity -- Why We Are, Who We Are" with Dr. Cerise Richards, MD, on Saturday, May 3rd at 4:00pm at MCC of the Spirit.  This presentation is free and open to the public.  For more information, visit www.TransCentralPA.org.

 From Kirkridge

Reaching the End of the Rainbow

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Church Chat—Sunday, June 8 @ 12:30 - Lunch Provided!
Did you attend the last church chat? It was a good opportunity to remind ourselves of what it means to deal directly with one another! At the next chat, we will discuss the 10 principles of generous living mentioned in the Pastor’s Reflections. Come to learn more about living a life of gratitude and generosity! (Remember, this is also a quarterly time for you to communicate with the church board as well.)

Article of Interest - How I Became an Ally

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Mitzi, Who Called Me Out as an Ally
posted by Dr. Greg Carey, Professor of New Testament at Lancaster Theological Seminary (Lancaster, PA), on Fri Apr 18, 2008 10:50 am at http://www.lts-allies.org

used with permission by the author

MITZI, WHO CALLED ME OUT AS AN ALLY

Mitzi (not her real name) was seventeen when she dropped by the church to see me. I’d been doing youth ministry in this congregation for almost two years, and I’d worked closely with Mitzi. We’d planned ministry events together, talked through crises concerning family and friends, prayed and led worship together. I knew Mitzi, and I knew she was telling the truth.

What Mitzi was telling me, was that she had come to realize that she is a lesbian. I’d observed Mitzi’s awkward relationships with boys, was keenly aware of her own distinctive sense of style. I knew that some days Mitzi worked very hard to fit in, while other days she worked just as hard to stand out. Most of all, I knew she was telling me the truth.

I also knew that in this little country church, so proud of itself for being such a loving congregation, Mitzi’s story would not have a happy ending. The congregation had embraced lots of people in my two years there, but always with some reservation. The deacons were all men. One man, divorced then remarried, had served the church faithfully for decades but grieved that he could never be ordained a deacon because that’s what the Bible taught. Of all the people who received welcome – single parents and wayward children – no one’s story quite matched Mitzi’s. Mitzi knew it too.

Mitzi and I had one thing in common. We had both just graduated, and we were moving on. She had just finished high school, and though she was very bright wanted to jump straight into the working world. It was highly likely she’d move away from home. I’d just finished my seminary degree at, of all places, The Southern Baptist Theological Seminary. I was moving on as well, and in a big way, to Vanderbilt University for graduate studies. Both of us were moving from a place that we had found restrictive to some wide open spaces. That was our one advantage.

Otherwise, I felt totally unprepared for this conversation. I grew up in a queer-free bubble. I went through school without knowing anyone who was out. There was the one guy in high school who excelled at ballet. Everybody suspected he was gay. To my knowledge no one ever said anything to him about it. And everyone pretty much liked him and appreciated his talent. There was the one elderly English teacher who lived with a friend. We suspected there might be more to it than that. Even in college I distinctly recall a moment when a friend pointed out another student to me and whispered that he was gay. I felt a mild revulsion, and that was that. Until Mitzi walked into my office, I’d never experienced anyone owning their queer identity in my presence.

Yet as I look back, it’s amazing how the Spirit had prepared for that one moment, without my suspecting it. I should acknowledge that I came of age during the AIDS scare. Never in my life did I hear a religious leader condemning (what we called) homosexuality until then. I don’t think sexual orientation came up in Psychology 101. So despite my narrow experience, I had not grown rigid, nor had I developed a clear ethical position on the question.

More than I realized at the time, two other factors may have prepared me for Mitzi’s visit. Between college and seminary I had worked full-time with the homeless population in Richmond, Virginia. In that context I had received training on HIV and AIDS – if someone bleeds on the floor, get some bleach on it – and I had met people who were clearly out. My ministry there called me to honor everyone’s humanity, which created the space for me to know queer folk as people before I could experience them as curiosities.

And then there was my conversation with Chris. Chris was one of my best friends in seminary, now pastor of a huge Baptist church. We’d grown close in college, and I admired him a great deal. For one thing, he was better than me at everything: basketball, tennis, golf, and academics. Beyond that, he was wise beyond his years. One day out on the golf course Chris mentioned his church’s ministry to “homosexuals.” What caught my attention wasn’t that the church had such a ministry. That I could admire. It was that Chris seemed entirely uninterested in addressing the sin of their sex lives. So I asked him.

Sure enough, Chris had no problem with queer folk. Rather than being defensive in response to my questions, Chris challenged me. Why was I so sure that homosexuality was sinful? How did I know?

I wish I could recall that whole conversation. Perhaps the reason I can’t is that we all like to think well of ourselves. Truth be told, maybe I wouldn’t want to know what I said. Maybe it wouldn’t flatter my self-image. But the moment still stands out. Seventeen years later, I think I could walk right to the spot on the golf course where Chris first challenged me on the topic – just a year or so before Mitzi walked into my office.

A there Mitzi was, and about to graduate too. What should I do? At this point, I knew just a few things.
[*] Mitzi was telling the truth. No point in questioning it.
[*] If Mitzi came out in this church, she’d be cursed. Even the well-intentioned things people would say would bear condemnation.
[*] I could stand by Mitzi throughout the summer and beyond, but she would need support I could not offer.
My response to Mitzi would be either a blessing or a curse. I was entering a new space in my life. Mitzi had brought me there.

I blessed Mitzi. I wish I could tell you that I did everything right, but I’m not sure. I offered my presence and support, I suggested she stay in the closet until she moved away, and I connected her with a counselor who would support her in ways I could not. Mitzi and I moved on, we stayed in touch for a few years, she even introduced me to her partner at one point, and we’ve long lost touch.

When I read the Gospels, I see that Jesus often found himself brought into new places by people who confronted him with their need for blessing. Mitzi did that for me. Over the years, I’ve never gotten it entirely right, but I’ve been blessed to join open and affirming congregations, play in Memphis’ gay softball league, and take some leadership role as an ally to LGBTQ persons. It was Mitzi who called me out into this joyful new space.