I moved to Sydney in January 1996. On my first Saturday I decided to go to the nearest Church. It was a hot, humid day, so I dressed appropriately, at least as far as I was concerned. As I entered the Church I was met by the Pastor and another gentleman dressed in a suit and tie, which was in marked contrast to my dress shorts, short-sleeved open necked shirt and long socks. I was welcomed with a firm handshake and the to be expected few questions about who I was and where I came from - as the eyes of both greeters checked me over from head to toe - or, perhaps it is more appropriate to say from toe to head. As I glanced at all the adult males around me I got the message - next time wear a suit and tie. There wasn’t a next time.
Lets face it. In a church, as in any organisation or group of people, there are certain expectations, some written, others not. Violation of these expectations can come with some form of sanction, and churches are notoriously good at applying the sanctions. I once overheard part of a conversation between two women. The first said something along the lines ‘We’re Catholics, we’re good at judging people.’ That same sentence could be rewritten with an ‘insert denomination’ box and applied almost universally.
Groups or organisations tend to attract people ‘just like us’, those who will ‘fit in’. White, middle class, family oriented, but not all. We tend to gravitate to where we are comfortable. Even in my predominantly white, middle class congregation there are those I feel uncomfortable around because they may be young and not on my wavelength, have a certain type of disability, a mental illness or something that marks them as different.
What follows is not based on research or personal experience with members of the Gay community. It is a reflection on personal experiences that I believe allow me offer what may be a helpful insight. It all started when I found myself in my thirties as a recently divorced, recently new Christian.
Divorce exposed me to a range of feelings I had probably never experience before, at least in anyway as intense. Painful as it was, it was in some ways one of the high points of my life. I started to read as I never had before trying to understand what I was going through. I also opened up to people as I hadn’t before, often because I felt I just had to let stuff out. I was lucky enough to find a few mates I could be comfortable with.
I also became involved with Singles Ministry, a group of mainly plus 30 plus unmarried and formerly married Adventists. And, of course, I read books about singles. What follows is largely based on that time of my life.
The Adventist Church is family focused, with some exception where there may be a stronger young adult or student focus. We have Children's, Youth and Young adults ministries. We acknowledge and celebrate births, baby dedications, mothers and fathers days. Do we even acknowledge the pain of childlessness, the struggle of separation and divorce, the often loneliness and isolation of mature singles or the struggles they may have, including the area of sexuality. We do acknowledge the death of a partner, but what about the end of a relationship.
The day my divorce went through I asked some friends out to help me celebrate. Gladly, some came. Others - ‘No, we don’t feel comfortable about that. Divorce isn’t God’s will, we can’t do that.’ For me it had nothing to do with God’s will, it was about marking a new beginning. Now I could finally put the past behind and look to the future. Others have told me they have felt the same.
Sexuality can be a real challenge. I read once that the divorced can swing from no interest whatever in sex to an almost uncontrollable desire, and back again. Singles Ministry does involve the risk of bringing together lonely people that have not adequately worked through a relationship breakup with others in the same position, resulting in rebound marriages that again fail.
Too many formerly married find themselves shunned by by couples they were once friendly with. Some feel - and it makes sense to me - that an attractive single may be seen as a threat to the marriage by the same-sex partner, especially if there are concerns over the stability of the marriage. Then there are those that side with one partner against the other, yet no one knows what happens behind closed doors. And judgement. I heard the divorced wife of an Anglican minister say one day that she was told ‘You must be a terrible sinner for God to allow this to happen to you.’
Another challenge - and whether this is as relevant today as it was more than 25 years back - is stigmatisation. One author put it this way. ‘If you are single and you live alone, you obviously have problems with relationships. If you are single and share a house with a member of the opposite sex, you’re obviously cohabitating. And, if you are sharing a house with someone of the same sex …’ you’re smart enough to work that one out.
So, what does this have to do with gays? First, I don’t claim to know a great deal about the complexity of human sexuality, but I have read enough to know that, for many at least, it is not a lifestyle choice. Many have struggled to deny their sexuality for years before finally accepting it. Too many others, I fear, have been driven to suicide, a real human tragedy.
My reflections above have been based on experiences of mature singles. These singles struggle for acceptance, their sexuality, and judgement by members of the Church community. Look around your congregations and ask yourself how many people have you once worshipped with who have gone through marriage breakdown that still worship with you. Too many of these drop out.
In many ways, how can the issues faced by the LGBT community be all that different to these ‘straight’ singles. Is it possible that for some of us latent homosexual feelings may lead us to avoid gays? If we can’t provide a place of acceptance, where people know they will be accepted without being judged for one group of people, how can we provide that for others are not ‘just like us?’
More to come.