Are LGBTQ clergy fit to serve in the church?

Are people who as identify lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, or queer fit to serve as leaders of the church in the world?

Before you stop reading because I am asking in this question, first know that I identify as a member of the LGBTQ community and as a member of the clergy of the ELCA, so for me, the answer is an absolute YES.

                                *******

But I am asking this question to try to get to some sort of understanding for myself about why the in the world we are still even having this conversation.

This post was inspired by some ongoing conversation in the social media world by other Lutheran clergy who note that it is still extremely difficult for LGBTQ folks to find congregational calls to live out their vocation to serve God and neighbor through the ministry of Word and Sacrament.  It is clear that the system is broken and undoubtedly favors heterosexual white men, just like nearly every other institution.

I am absolutely enraged that this is still up for debate. But in conversing with others online, I am beginning to realize that we are often not communicating about the same thing using language that both sides can understand.

First, I think it is important to begin with looking at what sexual orientation means.  For me, it is an immutable, unchanging, part of who I am and who I was created to be. It is "against nature" (my nature) to attempt to be heterosexual. I know this because I tried it and I was downright miserable for many years. Sexual orientation is not a choice.  However, much of this debate begins with a misunderstanding of this very critical point. In order to have a productive conversation, we need to begin with this mutual understanding. With this understanding, it is just as offensive to ask if an LGBTQ person is fit to serve the church as it is to ask if a person of color or a woman is fit to serve.  This is atrocious.

Next, is the sexual orientation of one's pastor a hindrance to completing the essential functions of the role of pastor? Does the gender expression of the pastor's partner have anything whatsoever to do with the pastor's ability to preside, hold the office of the keys, and tend to one's congregation in a pastoral way?  It seems really quite ridiculous to me to ask this question. My wife is an engineer.  She has received extensive education, passed several licensing examinations, and received training in the workplace to do her work.  The fact that she is married to me has no bearing whatsoever on her ability to be an engineer. I have received extensive education, completed the candidacy process, and completed an internship in a congregation. I have answered God's call to ministry and that call has been affirmed externally by a number of stakeholders including my congregation, my synod, my candidacy committee and faculty of my seminary. The fact that I am married to a woman has no bearing on my ability to serve God and God's people.

Also, is this a moral/theological/ethical issue?  Of course not.  But there are people out there who believe that I am living an immoral life, that I am living in such a place of sin that they cannot possibly hear the Gospel from me. I am living in sin, just as any one else is living in sin.  I sometimes hurt the people I love through my own stupidity or my sharp tongue.  I tend to think that I can fix everything on my own and I don't need help from anyone else. It is hard for me to admit when I am wrong. But what is not sinful is that I am in a loving, respectful, publicly accountable relationship with another woman.

So where does this leave the debate?  I find that most of the discomfort with a gay pastor can be reduced to what I will call the "ick factor."  For many people, it's icky to think about sex. This is a problem in our churches. And because of deeply entrenched heteronormativity, we don't automatically think about sex when we see a straight couple.  But same gender relationships are far too often just reduced to sex and this is beside the point.  What consenting adults do behind closed doors is no business of anyone else. How they live out their commitment to one another by being part of a congregation, by serving their neighbor, and how they live into the vocation of family is what is important.

Finally, the question of whether or not LGBTQ clergy are fit to serve the church is often based in fear of the unknown.  Public acceptance of same-gender relationships is still evolving, and same-gender couples are still working on feeling safe enough to be public about their relationships. Some people simply do not know any LGBTQ people (or perhaps more appropriately, do not THINK they know any LGBTQ people, but statistically they do).  There is fear that the gay pastor will shove some sort of gay agenda onto them.  That by calling a gay pastor, they get a one-person gay pride parade. That a gay pastor will be primarily GAY, and only after that, then a pastor. This could not be more false.


LGBTQ people are everywhere. We aren't scary. We aren't going to corrupt the children. We just want to live our lives in the way that we have been created to be.  We want meaningful work. We want to live and love and be part of our communities.  Some of us have been called to be clergy.

Of course LGBTQ clergy are fit to serve in the church.  And God has called us to serve one another and love one another, and we have work to do to care for our neighbors in need.

Review of Queer Clergy by R.W. Holmen

Credit Cokesbury.com

Earlier this fall I responded to a call for people willing to review a new book, Queer Clergy by R.W. Holmen, that was hitting shelves in early 2014. I received an advance reader's copy. Life got a little out of hand (as is to be expected while working in a church over Christmas), so I am just now getting around to writing my review.  

Queer Clergy: A History of Gay and Lesbian Ministry in American Protestantism is a compelling history of the role of lesbian, gay, bisexual, trans*, and queer (LGBTQ) clergy in five major mainline Protestant denominations, the United Church of Christ (UCC), the Episcopal Church (TEC), the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America (ELCA), the Presbyterian Church (USA) and the United Methodist Church (UMC). Holmen traces the arc of history in each denomination from the first murmurings of LGBTQ clergy to the present (or until about May 2013). He uses official documents of the denominations: minutes, resolutions, policy statements, and judicial decisions, as well as personal interviews with LGBTQ pioneers in each denomination.

Holmen himself is an ELCA Lutheran with a background in law, who is an ardent ally for LGBTQ persons. He writes in the preface, "Hopefully this book will help LGBT Christians and straight allies to appreciate our past and to remember the pioneers who have led the church to be a place of welcome."   This book is a straightforward and concise history text, but for me, its real value is in naming the pioneering and prophetic queer clergy who have gone before me.  Since I am a part of the ELCA, this review will focus on that portion of the text, part III.

In this forum, it is impossible to summarize all the information packed into this section of Holmen's book. It is a rich examination of the early LGBTQ activist groups in the Lutheran church (starting in the 1970s), the early explorations of social statements regarding human sexuality (although none considered LGBTQ ordination), and the introduction of many early clergy pioneers.  After the formation of the ELCA in 1988, Holmen traces an intensifying call for discourse.  Through reporting personal interviews with those involved and citing synodical documents, he traces the heartbreaking stories of defrocking of out glory, of congregations being expelled from the ELCA for calling openly gay and lesbian pastors. He discusses the process of extra ordinem ordinations and the ultimate formation of the group, Extraordinary Lutheran Ministries (ELM), to provide a credentialing body for those clergy who had a call to ordained ministry and also happened to be LGBTQ.

A theme in this section is "Biblical obedience mandated ecclesiastical disobedience."  With rising crescendo, Holmen traces the history of resolutions and proposals until the ELCA Churchwide Assembly 2009 (CWA09) and what is referred to in ELCA circles even now as "The Vote."

This resolution is as follows, "RESOLVED that the ELCA commit itself to finding a way for people in such publicly accountable, lifelong, monogamous, same-gender relationships to serve as rostered leaders of this church."

With 559 voting yes, and 451 voting no, the moment had arrived for queer clergy in the ELCA.  Holmen writes, "the reaction among a thousand voting members and another thousand observers was muted.  The plenary hall was suddenly sacred space, and the quiet interrupted only by weeping and the murmur of prayer.  By twos and threes and fours and fives, the children of God huddled together in tears and prayer, some in joyous thanksgiving and others in grief."  I remember watching this vote from my desk at work in Boulder, CO.  I remember weeping too with joy that my denomination had found a way.  Little did I know how important this would become for me personally.

Holmen also respectfully addresses the opposition to this vote in the years that follow.  I was impressed by both his treatment of this issue, but also the conduct of the ELCA and its leaders.  He also covers the emotional reinstatement process of those clergy who were defrocked and those congregations that were expelled.

I don't find myself moved to tears by books very often, and Holmen's book did this for me.  I have a lot personally invested in this history, and as I read this text, I gave thanks over and over again for the brave clergy, bishops and allies, who went before.  I know many of the people personally that Holmen writes about, Pastor Anita Hill, Pastor Bradley Schmeling, Retired Bishop Herb Chilstrom, and others, but this book filled in the rest, and I will never stop being thankful for these people.