But, for me, Gary and Tony and Nicholas are more than the subjects of a documentary.  They are my congregants, members of the church I serve, and I can’t help wishing that CNN had talked about that.  It bothers me that the show spent time explaining the Catholic parish that dismissed the reality of their relationship, but couldn’t spare a word about the Unitarian Universalist community that has welcomed Gary and Tony and dedicated their son.

No, I’m not a publicity hound.  But I am an unrepentant liberal religious evangelist, and I think we all need to be.  There are millions of BGLTQ singles and couples and families who care about their spiritual life, but don’t know that liberal religious communities like Fourth Universalist are waiting to welcome them.  There are millions of straight people who want a growing relationship with the Holy, but don’t want any part of a church that treats gay and lesbian people as less than human.

I can’t expect CNN to do my work for me. But it would have been wonderful if they had brought the arc of the story to completion, and included footage of the day our congregation dedicated little Nicholas.  We promised to help guide his feet, to support his parents as they helped him grow; we dedicated him to a life of love and service and promised him tools that would help him on his life’s journey.  That is a promise available to every person who joins a Unitarian Universalist community, and it is radically different from the faith of Gary and Tony’s childhood church.  It would have been great for viewers to know that, somewhere out there, there are churches that stand on the side of love, congregations that mean it when they say what we say at Fourth U every Sunday morning: “Whoever you are, whomever you love, wherever you are on your life’s journey, you are very welcome here.”

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I really was planning to stay out of the Garrison Keillor blogfest; I always knew he disliked UUs, and I only listened to Prairie Home Companion when I was trapped in a car, stranded in that great vacant space between cities where the only radio offerings are evangelical preachers, country music, and an NPR station at the far left of the dial.

But his Silent Night screed, along with his recent onstage parody of Unitarian Universalists at Christmas (he keeps getting our name wrong too!) finally hooked me, hence my sermon from a couple of days ago, which you’ll find below. PHC lovers won’t care. But I am officially tired of the Keillor curmudgeon act; I’m a city girl anyway! Merry Christmas!

Changing Light
A Sermon by
The Rev. Rosemary Bray McNatt
The Fourth Universalist Society
in the City of New York
Dec. 20, 2009

It has been a wild week for interfaith understanding. The Unitarian Universalist universe has been filled with chatter this week. On blogs and in chat rooms, liberal religious people have been filled with comments and commentary about Garrison Keillor. In case you missed it, the writer and host of A Prairie Home Companion delivered what many of us believed to be an anti-Unitarian Universalist screed in a recent issue of Salon magazine. Whatever could have set him off? According to our reading today, it seemed to be the changing of the words in Silent Night, as he experienced during a recent visit to a Unitarian Universalist congregation in Cambridge, Massachusetts.

Whatever it is he heard there apparently offended his Lutheran sensibilities. The Internet has been awash ever since with rumors about the source of his Unitarian or Universalist antipathy. Theories have ranged from an unfortunate encounter with a Universalist minister in a previous life, to the religious affiliation of his second wife, allegedly Unitarian Universalist, and a woman for whom he has lost no love whatsoever. Many people were surprised and distressed by Keillor’s apparent hostility toward both UUs and Jews in his short essay. I was not one of those people; in addition to not being exactly crazy about the rural flavor of his shows, I have always believed that with a few exceptions, Garrison Keillor has never been laughing with us as liberal religious people, but laughing at us. What else could I say about a man who challenges not only the practice of adapting hymn lyrics—something nearly every faith tradition manages to do—but questions with such sarcasm the theology behind it?

In the interest of full disclosure, I am not typically a fan of hymn adaptations myself. Though I was a collapsed Catholic before I joined this religious movement, I love the old Christmas carols, and even now I sing them with all the original words I learned at St. Ambrose. Silent Night is, in fact, my mother’s very favorite Christmas carol. But even I have never been able to generate as much distress as Garrison Keillor seems to think the subject deserves. Something else must be going on, when a public figure with listeners whose number far exceeds our numbers as a religious movement decides to take out after us in such a public way.

I do not mind that Keillor asked the question of what it means for us to accept other religious beliefs, and where we might be crossing the line toward appropriation. I mind that, in addition to being snarky, he was intolerant in the same way he is accusing us of being. I mind his inability to accept us, as Unitarian Universalists, with the same exasperated fondness he has for small-town Midwestern life. I mind that, even if he thinks we’re idiots the rest of the year, he could at least show some of the Christmas Spirit he’s accused us of helping to kill.

At the risk of playing into the intellectual stereotype of Unitarian Universalists he’s attacked as part of our problem, does Keillor understand at all that the very holiday of Christmas itself is the alteration and combination of several pagan holidays? Does he know that Jesus was most likely born not in December, but in September? Has he opened a single book that might reveal that the celebration of Christ’s birth was brilliantly aligned with preexisting mid-winter festivals that helped to establish this new sect, Christianity, amid the institutional church’s desire to become mainstream?

Poor thing, he forgets that the coming Christmas holiday is a wild amalgam of pagan holidays, winter solstice, German festivals and Norse legends, and Roman holidays like Saturnalia. He forgets that the baby Jesus and his birth in a humble manger—whether or not it was an actual event—was a symbol of rebirth and new life, like the evergreens that decorate our homes or the many other practices that have become part of our cultures, but whose origins have grown dim. He forgets that nearly all human beings have a need to turn toward the light—for health, for growth, for renewal, and that even as the days have grown shorter and shorter, we approach this winter solstice time with a hope based in reality: from that day forward, the days will only grow longer, the light will only be brighter.

Part of the reason that human beings have festivals of light in nearly every culture is that human beings have always feared and raged against the dying of the light, and have created rituals born in hope but rooted in reassurance that surely, the light will come again, new life will come again, we will be able to begin again. All through history, human beings have banded together, have helped one another to face the changing light that conquers darkness, have learned to move forward into the sun.

Along with those rituals come stories of the seasons, colored by culture and religion and habit, meant to keep alive our hope: the lamp with only one night of oil that burns for eight miraculous nights. The story of a baby, born to an unmarried woman and a carpenter, in a barn surrounded by animals—then visited by the heavenly host. There are other stories we have never heard from people we have never met—all of them conspiring to bring us closer to the light and the life of which we dream and toward which we struggle as imperfect people.

Perhaps Garrison Keillor has troubles we know not of. Perhaps we are taking him too seriously and he meant his essay, and his onstage parody, as a curmudgeonly joke. But these are intolerant days. We know that, and every one of us should be held to account for that intolerance and the ways we promote it, even Garrison Keillor, for the light is changing. The light of faith is shining away from some communities and toward other for the first time in history. The light is changing; for the first time in centuries large numbers of people in the West are reading not just Hebrew Scripture and Christian scripture but Hindu scripture and Islamic scripture. For the first time in centuries, people are attuned to the reality that the light of the holy shines in many places, among many people, and that it is not political correctness but deep reverence for our common stories of the sacred, that inspire more and more of us.

It is possible that Garrison Keillor’s outrage is simply the latest example of predictable backlash in a world that is weary of change. But no matter how tired we are, no matter how much we fear, no matter how much we wish it were not true, the light is changing. These sacred days are meant to remind us that we need not fear the darkness, we need not fear the light, and we need not fear the change. We are meant to ride the rhythms of change, to pursue the light wherever it might take us, to be companions to one another on the journey, and to remind one another, particularly in this season, of the words of an angel visiting Mary: be not afraid. This poor unmarried girl, giving birth to a child not conceived with her fiancé, traveling with little or no money in a land not her own, nonetheless was met with a vision of light and a voice to remind her that, no matter what is coming, no matter what’s ahead, don’t be afraid—God is with you.

Someone ought to remind our grouchy Lutheran friend what it is the angel said, what message is sent by the changing light shining on the multiracial, multifaith world beyond Lake Woebegon: be not afraid, Garrison. Our covenantal faith won’t hurt you, even if we do ask you to attend to your inner voice. Our embrace of Wiccans or druids or atheists won’t hurt you. You work hard to make us sound aimless and random in our faith, but we aren’t. We just want to be like that innkeeper on the road to Bethlehem, opening the door so that other people get to hear the story, know they aren’t alone, become a little less afraid. We do these things out of our own sense that the light is changing, from a narrow beam to the full and glorious spectrum of human life and human faith. Not all of us are strong, or good looking, or above average, but all of us are welcome. Even you, Garrison Keillor, even you. Blessed Solstice. Amen.

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and then you stopped blogging.  What happened to you???

Yes, I know.  Life happened.  Church happened.  Teenage children happened. Most importantly, hackers happened!

The hacker issue is the worst, and I’m still working on it. So stay tuned; I’ll be back….

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Those of us who love this faith owe Bill an enormous debt of gratitude for making credible a liberal religious voice amid the conservative noise that passes for public debate.  In his strategic commitment to speaking faithfully, Bill changed the game for Unitarian Universalism’s public witness. Today, our faith once again provides respected testimony to our liberal values. Hearing Unitarian Universalists speak truth to power is expected—even assumed.  The first phase of the reclamation of our historic power has been wildly successful, and as a parish minister who has worked to leverage that public voice in her local community, I’m delighted with that success.

It’s time once again for Unitarian Universalists to elect a religious professional to lead our movement into the 21st century. Yet the urgent work that faces our association is very different now than it was when Bill chose to run for the presidency.  As liberal religious people, we are called now, more than ever, to be both articulate in naming the brokenness of this world and effective in the work of healing our world.  That’s why I am supporting The Rev. Dr. Laurel Hallman as the next President of our Association.

In his brilliant Ware Lecture from 2008, the African American community activist Van Jones spoke about the next level of insight, awareness and activism that we must embrace as human beings living on this fragile and endangered planet.  And one of his themes—not unique to us as UUs, but so very relevant for us—is that it’s not enough to have a critique; you have to have a plan.  I am supporting Laurel because she has a plan, not a critique of how awful/unprepared/inept we are.mach-zehnder Laurel has a plan that takes Unitarian Universalism to the next level of insight and influence, based on her decades of experience, not only as a parish minister, not only as a brilliant fundraiser, but also as a committed community organizer working with Ernesto Cortes and other members of Dallas Area Interfaith.

Those of us who have been exposed to the community-organizing model know intimately that it’s never about talk, because talk is cheap.  Those of us who know community organizing know that it’s never about what a single person can do, but about what a committed group can do when it works together to hold powerful people accountable.  Most importantly, those of us who know community organizing have seen what can happen when a collaborative leader brings together people who are so different that they shouldn’t even be able to stand next to each other.  We know that amazing things happen when such disparate people unite in a common purpose! I support Laurel because she has lived and ministered in that knowledge for nearly three decades.

Bill Sinkford’s exemplary success in leading Unitarian Universalism has served to raise the bar for liberal religious leadership itself.  We have traveled beyond the point where our movement can empower religious leaders who often talk a good game, but in the end hesitate to change the game.  I am impatient with those leaders in our movement who participate in press conferences and public actions that make liberal religious people feel good, but leave those we oppose feeling angry or dismissive, and leave those unfamiliar with our faith—the movable middle—feeling both unmoved and unchanged. I support Laurel because she knows very well how to argue with people like the late Jerry Falwell, or how to get face time with people like President Bill Clinton, (for the record, she’s done both!) But she also knows, and will institutionalize, ways to build capacity in the tiniest congregation, ways to support the midsize congregations that are betwixt and between, ways to challenge large congregations to step forward for our faith.  Even more important, Laurel knows how to support all our congregations as they work strategically within their own communities, so that our congregations become known as trusted partners in the work of justice, so that real and lasting change occurs.

Most of all, I support Laurel because I feel in her presence what I feel in Bill Sinkford’s presence: a deep knowledge of The Holy, and a deep commitment to Unitarian Universalism as a liberal religious faith as opposed to some random nonprofit group.  I resonate deeply with those within our movement like Laurel who find depth, strength and focus in a consistent religious practice, and whose spirituality grounds the work they accomplish.  I have confidence that when Laurel leads—even when I disagree with her—she will lead from the core of our Living Tradition, that she will support religious leaders like myself in the work of justice and peace, and that she will call on each and every one of us to reach deeper and do more. Laurel leads with the spirit of a pastor, the focus of a seasoned executive and the insight of the community activist that she’s been for more than 20 years. She has my unqualified support, and I hope you will join me in voting for her at our next General Assembly.

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It was a relief to know that this was a statistical falsehood—many thanks to Jack and Jill Politics for posting the Daily Kos link that gives the lie to this propaganda!  Nonetheless, I have been through this before, a long time ago, when one group of marginalized people (the LGBT community) felt marginalized by another group of marginalized people (African Americans).  The first time someone presented the issue to me then, I drank the Kool-Aid, and was willing to imagine the extreme homophobia of the Black community.  But I’ve lived a long time since then, seen firsthand the homophobia in white communities of the so-called “enlightened,” learned how many of my own family members were gay or lesbian, realized how committed I am to this issue, and discovered how easily the white LGBT community is willing  to overlook its own racism and condescension for a chance to scapegoat an entire community.

Some of the conversation we are having right now is based in reality:  in many quarters, the opposition to same sex marriage in the (not-at-all monolithic) Black community is theologically based.  It takes a literal reading of Leviticus to get there, and I’m a totally non-literal lover of Scripture.  But I also imagine several things:  first, that there is what’s in the Good Book, versus what’s going on in real life–thus the persistent reality of African-American congregations populated with a host of gay and lesbian people who neither ask nor tell.  Second, there is the legacy of racism, expressed via a horror among African Americans about any kind of sexuality that would even hint of our “abnormality,” and thus our non-humanity.  Remember that, for centuries, we were the people who were the object of sexual fantasy and nightmare.  We were exotic and unusual and dirty and bad and other.  So many of us have, for a very long time, overreacted by being totally “straight-life” when it came to issues of sexuality. (Any black woman who’s been present for a  late-night conversation about the boundaries around oral sex will know what I mean!)

Those of us who have learned to let go of the public relations version of black sexuality, however, and be our true selves, whatever our sexual preferences, nonetheless partially recognize the drill.  Ours is also a recognition of the breadth and depth of sexuality and love, combined with real-life exposure to men who have loved men and women who have loved women longer than some of us have been in the world. And some of us continue to understand that nothing—least of all, sexuality—absolutely nothing, can separate us from the love of God.  As a minister, it is this nuanced understanding I am working and praying for!

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And yet, I have found so much for which I am grateful, even amid the turmoil of these last two months. I am held in the embrace of such dear friends, women and men who care about me a lot and look after me–both up close and long distance–even when I forget to look after myself.  I have a large, loud and loving family, most of whom showed up in Boston for the wedding of my favorite brother, to a wonderful woman who was crazy enough to marry him.

I had a chance this summer to do ministry I don’t usually do–with elementary-age children (at The Mountain) and youth (at Ferry Beach), and discovered that such ministry to our young people has a very particular set of rewards. I was reminded of how important it was to mark the milestones of losing a tooth, as well as the difficulty of losing a parent at a time when you need her most. I had the chance to experience and honor the fierce independence of youth moving to adulthood (with none of the angst I feel when it is my own teenager!), and to remember how much it mattered to me oh-so-many-years-ago that the adults in my life honored my own awkward struggles.

I am privileged to minister for the first time at the Ferry Beach conference “In the Company of Women,” which for some years now has been a place for both lesbian and straight women to be in safe and women-affirming community. I have been pastor as well as participant this week in a variety of activities that range from the sublime to the ridiculous—Lesbian Jeopardy, for example, was a non-stop scream! The women I have met here are people of great courage and character. I have been especially moved by the stories of women whose coming out was delayed by ignorance and prejudice, who have come into their own and found the loves of their lives at an age when society dictates that women are fit only for inertia. There is a great deal of joy and laughter here, even amid the rain-drenched days.

It was laughter I really needed after the pain and sadness of working in Knoxville as part of the UU Trauma Response Ministry, in response to the shootings at Tennessee Valley UU Church. People don’t always remember that, though the attack occurred at TVUUC, members of that congregation, Westside UU Church and Oak Ridge UU Church were all deeply affected. I was so very proud to be part of the small group of us who decided, several years ago, that our liberal faith community needed a group of trained ministers and lay people who could respond to our congregations during disasters and traumatic events. (It was a need I personally discovered the hard way, as I started my ministry in NYC on Sept. 9, 2001.) The early years of UUTRM were a struggle for respect and recognition of what we trained so hard to do. But with each heartbreaking event, we earned a chance to serve this faith we love with more diligence and greater skill. It is always a nightmare when something as terrible as an armed intruder disrupts the sacred space that is meant for worship and praise. But it is an honor to be called upon to support our sister congregations through such times, so that they know without a doubt that they are not alone.

As my husband was driving me to LaGuardia Airport for my flight to Knoxville, he asked with genuine curiosity, “Why do you like doing this so much?” He was right: for all the horror we are exposed to when we are called, I love this aspect of my ministry. I know that some of it is just how I’m wired. But I also realize it is because of the privilege it offers those of us who serve: in the midst of the most dreadful situations imaginable, we have a window into what is most gracious, compassionate and blessed about being human. We get to see the Holy at work: not as it wipes away the terror of what has happened, but as it reveals some unexpected beauty that coexists with terror; not as it eliminates sorrow, but as it promises something else that can move us beyond sorrow. So long as there is the chance to glimpse that small part of the Holy as it moves, I will go.

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My two children have been coming to MountainCamp since 2002, when they found in the splendor of these woods a respite from the post-Sept. 11 world. For sure, being at the Mountain healed my older son, saved his shell-shocked heart, and my family and I have loved this camp and its staff ever since. [The family love runs so deep that my meeting-averse husband serves on the board of trustees.] So every year, I come here, to teach or to serve as a minister of the week for some camp or another, and to sit during my spare time in one of the rocking chairs on the porch outside the Great Room at the Lodge, looking out over the Blue Valley of Western North Carolina.

The Mountain was the first place I ever touched a cloud; one literally floated by a group of us sitting out on the porch one afternoon. It’s the first place I ever went on a “trust walk,” taking a path in the darkness on the strength of a single person’s hand. And it’s one of the first places I learned to pay close attention to the weather. One year, there were riotous thunderstorms every afternoon, with lightning strikes that took out the servers and killed the Internet connections here for two days (*that* hurt my feelings!)

Some years, I stay in the modern Lodge, but this year, I am in one of the cabins, nestled amid giant rhododendrons blooming everywhere. At night, the sky here is awash with more stars than this city girl ever gets to see; the sky seems not just dark blue, but veiled in silver light. Sometimes I stand in the darkness near my cabin just to watch it, and to listen to the silence of this different world.

I feel especially at home here this year, after the alien experience of Ft. Lauderdale and the General Assembly. It was such a strange experience that I am still processing it, hoping to know more about what it means. After my freely chosen exile of sorts, I was surprised at how good it felt to drive up the road to The Mountain, taking the switchbacks slowly, recognizing all the places my sons talk about the other 50 weeks of the year, passing the Dining Room and Heritage Hall, parking near the office and the pathway to Meditation Rock.

The Mountain has had its share of troubles these past few years, and more than its share of detractors. But I am an unabashed partisan, because when so many people have needed what this camp and conference center has to give—its warm hospitality, its generous welcome, its soul-deep commitment to Unitarian Universalist values—The Mountain has been there. I’m one of those people. It’s good to be home.

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It was funny to notice things I didn’t like about being on sabbatical–the sense of rootlessness. I completely lost my sense of church time. I lost track of the UU liturgical year; I didn’t know when Passover was, and didn’t find myself again until I returned and sat down to pull together my preaching calendar for the next church year. Suddenly, I found my sense of time again: Homecoming Sunday and the Blessing of the Animals; Church Auction and the Holiday Pageant and the Christmas Eve Service; Martin Luther King Sunday and Freedom to Marry Day; International Women’s Sunday and Passover and Easter and Mother’s Day, RE Sunday and Recognition Sunday and Father’s Day. Before I know it, it will be time for General Assembly again, in Salt Lake City this time.

It took sabbatical to show me how central the church is to our family’s life. When we are not at the church I serve, we are most often at other UU venues, living a UU life. My kids go to UU camps; I am usually with my UU friends; perhaps the only major event of the year for my family is my brother’s forthcoming wedding. Considering that my brother and his fiancee are Baptists, we’re sure to be the only UUs at the ceremony. But that’s ok; I’ll be leaving there to be minister of the week at Ferry Beach!

I’m getting better at expanding my circle of friendships, reclaiming the writer friends I once knew before I answered the call to ministry. But even that’s difficult, because they often seek me out to talk, not about books or ideas, but about the state of their spirits. I can’t even say that I mind; it’s where I live these days. Still, it makes sense in the long run for me to broaden the kinds of people who know me and know my heart, so that I can keep on doing the work I love.

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So in the next few weeks, you’ll see several changes here at revrose.com, including a redesign and the addition of more blogs that are reflective of my multitasking mind! One purpose of this redesign is to help readers connect to me and to my work in different ways: to find my books if you want to buy them, to read or hear my sermons if you’re interested in them, or to find out where I might be speaking in a venue near you. (I was at Mt. Holyoke College last week, for example, and it was so wonderful to connect with folks from the varied parts of my life!) On any of the new blogs, you’ll be able to click through to the others to see what’s new! I hope this makes it easier for my loyal readers to keep up with me.

The tentative lineup:

revrose.com will be focused on Unitarian Universalist/liberal religious life and thought. For those of you following my work in Kenya, and for those of you who are thinking with me about the future of Unitarian Universalism, these conversations will go on here.

nohometraining.org will be home to my political and cultural commentary. Everyone who’s interested in the presidential elections, popular culture (including books, movies and TV); home and family life and other random events can check in here.

trusteetalk.net is the home for reports and commentary from me in my role as the Metropolitan New York District trustee for the Unitarian Universalist Association. You’ll find links here to the Metro New York District website, the UUA website, reports on our quarterly board meetings, and other topics of interest.

urbanlogos.org is the home for occasional postings about the two most important questions facing New York City dwellers: where am I going to live? and where can my kids go to school? I share this blog with guest commentators who are as cranky about these two issues as I am (especially the second one!)

Not all of these blogs are ready yet, (that’s why you can’t click through to them) but they should be up and running by May, and I’ll shuttle among them as time, events and energy permit. Many, many thanks to Shai and Shelby from Lightbulb First Consulting, who are in charge of my new look. (Some of you know Shelby as the voice behind the new uuworld.org feature, The Interdependent Web.) And stay tuned.

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I am writing to you as a liberal religious leader, personally committed to the values you have so brilliantly represented in the public square, and as a black woman who is grateful that I am alive at a time when a black man has a real chance to become President of the United States. I’m proud to share with you the additional identity of Chicagoan; you once represented as a state senator the district in which my mother and much of the rest of my family still live. I’m also the mother of two sons who hang on your every word; my husband and I cannot get them to bed on primary nights until you have spoken.

I mention my sons, ages 11 and 14, because they watched, along with their father and I, your appearance on The Hardball College Tour this evening. So I saw the shock and heard the disappointment in their voices after a member of the audience asked “Do you support gay marriage?” and they heard your response. You answered that you did not; that you supported civil unions and that you sought to equalize those unions on the federal level so that lesbian and gay people would have the same rights under the law that those of us who are straight can take for granted. My kids started booing as you spoke. “Mom, that’s messed up!” my son Daniel said. And my stomach started to hurt.

You and I are both people of faith, Senator, and I am a minister in what may be the only religious community more progressive than your own–Unitarian Universalism. My husband and I are raising our children in this liberal religious tradition, and they were shocked to hear that someone they so admire, and who articulates so many of the ideals they believe, could be willing to deny the benefits and blessings of marriage to lesbian and gay people.

Some part of me believes this stance is a strategic move on your part, a middle-of-the-road gesture meant to assuage the GLBT community and those of us who consider ourselves allies in their struggle for full citizenship, without alienating the more conservative crossover voters that you will need to be elected President. I also have to believe that your opinion on this issue also has been influenced by a Biblical perspective that would seem to preclude marriage as a viable option for same-sex couples. Attempting to address the issue of marriage equality, while you still have so far to go, is a risky venture. But I urge you to continue prayerful reflection about what it means–not only to GLBT people, but to their families and their allies–to create two categories for what is meant to be the most sacred relationship between two people.

If the state is meant to be involved in marriage at all, then it seems only right in a democracy like ours that all the rules of justice and equity should apply to this relationship, regardless of our individual or collective religious beliefs about who should marry. The feelings of religious communities, though worthy of consideration, cannot be definitive about a person’s civil rights. Many denominations, for example, don’t believe in divorce, yet states have clear procedures for the ending of a marriage. And there is no reason to privilege religious communities that oppose marriage equality over religious communities like Unitarian Universalists, which support marriage equality. Indeed, I often feel that I am restricted in practicing my faith as well as my calling when I cannot marry two people who love each other. It is, in the view of my religious community, a simple matter of civil rights–one reason that seven of the 14 plaintiffs in the case that brought marriage equality to Massachusetts were Unitarian Universalists.

I know all too well that other religious communities have used tradition and Scripture to proscribe the lives and futures of GBLT people. But I invite you to consider that even Scripture contains passages which suggest that old ideas about what God is said to require are subject to change. When I think about this issue, I reflect on The Book of Acts, Chapter 10, in which a Gentile named Cornelius wishes to be baptized, at a time when it was forbidden for Jews and Gentiles to have contact with one another. The apostle Peter has a dream “in which all manner of four-footed creatures and reptiles and birds of the air” descended from heaven on a large cloth, and God told him to “Get up, Peter, kill and eat.” Peter, you may recall, declined, saying that he had never eaten anything profane or unclean. It was then that the voice of God said to him: “What God has made clean, you must not call profane.” From that dream, Peter realizes that Gentiles are meant to be welcomed into God’s family, and he baptizes Cornelius.

Even if I had never read this passage in Scripture, however, I would have been persuaded of the need for marriage equality as a result of my congregational ministry. For seven years now, I have been pastor of a mid-size congregation in Manhattan with lesbian and gay members. There is only one difference between their lives and our lives–and it can be found in the constant complication, uncertainty and fear in which they must fashion relationships and families. I do not know how many straight couples would be capable of withstanding the additional stress and disrespect that lesbian and gay couples endure and still maintain a relationship. It’s my belief that no couple should have to find out.

My husband and I have been together for 34 years–24 of those years as husband and wife, and I can say without question that being married is different than not being married. It is the public, sacred commitment that marriage demands of its participants, a commitment supported by society and culture, that helps to shape and change those of us who enter into that union. Civil unions cannot and will not do that, and lesbian and gay people should not have to settle for a cheap imitation of a relationship that makes such a difference in human life.

My world is filled with gay and lesbian family and friends. They matter to me; their happiness and well being is important to me, to my husband and to my children. That’s why my sons booed when you said what you did this evening. Your suggested half-measure violates not only their religious sensibilities, but the sense of justice and fairness that draws them to your candidacy.

My younger son looked at me when the show was over and asked me, “Mom, are you still going to vote for Obama?”

Yes, if I get the chance, I will be voting for you. But I will also be working hard to make sure that the promise of America–a promise you speak of with great beauty and eloquence–will one day extend to everyone, no matter whom they choose to love. It is my prayer that, as you move ahead, you will one day do the same.

With every good wish,

The Rev. Rosemary Bray McNatt

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