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Coming Out/Coming Homeby the Rev. Kerry MuellerService at UUCSS on March 19, 2000
Music for gathering Prelude Opening Words#442 "We Bid You Welcome" Antiphonally Opening Hymn #396 "I Know this Rose Will Open" The Lighting of the Chalice and a Uniting StatementAs we gather here for worship, Song of ExaltationSince what we choose is what we are Welcome and Announcements Story for All Ages "Queen Esther" Parting Song for Children #413 Offertory Sharing of Joys and Sorrows Meditation with Words, with Silence & With Music Anthem/Special Music SermonComing Out/Coming Homeby the Rev. Kerry Mueller There's a story that Rev. Sid Peterman used to tell. I heard it when Sid was District Consultant for the Joseph Priestley District. It seems there was a young couple in Sid's congregation in Florida. They had been members for several years, and were active and enthusiastic Unitarian Universalists. The husband was president of the congregation. One day he came to Sid and said that he wouldn't be attending church for the next month. Sid took this in stride, but asked what was going on in his life. The young man explained that his parents were coming to visit, and he didn't want them to know that he was a Unitarian Universalist. He didn't think they would understand. He would really miss church. It would be hard avoiding the topic with his parents. But it seemed better not to risk a family blowup. And so they would not be coming for a while. Two weeks went by. The young couple were not in church. But the third week, there they were, in their usual seats in the front row. Sid asked them before the service, "Did your parents go home?" "No," they said, "The parents went out to brunch by themselves this morning, so we sneaked away to church." Sid said he was glad to see them. The service began. During the first hymn, when latecomers were seated, an elderly couple came in and took the only seats remaining -- in the front row -- they are always the last to fill up -- next to the young couple and. . . . You guessed it. It was the parents. They, too, had been Unitarian Universalists for several years, but had not wanted to tell their son. The story has a happy ending. Both couples enjoyed coming to church together the last week of the visit. Parents and adult children were able to discuss how they had come to Unitarian Universalism. They laughed together about their years of hiding and deception. But this story has a sharp point. Two sharp points, in fact. The first is about hiding something essential about yourself, living in a closet. These folks denied their religion, something that was central to their lives. Denial is wasteful and painful. It short circuits real relationships. Sometimes it is devastating. Living in the closet is costly and harmful. Coming out, despite its risks, has many benefits. And secondly, being closeted and coming out are issues for many people, in many parts of their lives. It is not just about Gay and Lesbian people, though that is where the phrase arose and that is where the anguish of being closeted is most prevalent and most painful. But hiding, and denial of yourself, and coming out -- these are about us, not "them." Coming is all around us. This week our Jewish neighbors celebrate Queen Esther, who had to come out as a Jew in a time and place when that was dangerous. On Friday our Christian neighbors celebrated St. Patrick, who spent years as a slave in a country unsympathetic to his Christian faith, and who escaped and later went back to share that faith. A week ago the Pope acknowledge and asked forgiveness for the way in which Jews and heretics have been treated. And this week the Vermont legislature made provisions for recognizing gay domestic partnerships, creating opportunities for coming out. Stories of coming our are about us. How easy is it for you to identify yourself as a Unitarian Universalist? Do you wear UU jewelry or have a bumper sticker on your car? Can you talk to your family members about your religion? How about your fundamentalist neighbors? How about at work? Do you sometimes hesitate? What is the cost of that closeting? I knew a UU woman, Patty -- she has given me permission to use her name and story -- who felt for years that she could not tell her parents she was a Unitarian Universalist. They were fundamentalists, her father a minister. For some time Patty attended a Methodist Church. That was barely acceptable to the parents. Later she joined a UU church and warned her UU friends to keep quiet around her parents. She did not want to precipitate a family fight. This was a chancy strategy -- Patty is very hospitable, and often has friends and family to dinner. Inevitably, after several years, a dinner guest just let it slip out. Like it or not, Patty was out of the closet. Her parents were very upset. For a time there was an estrangement. A frigid silence descended on them for six months. Then Patty's granddaughter was born, and family life went back to normal. Now her parents seem reconciled. They are a closer knit family than before -- now that they really know who their daughter is. It has worked out well, but hiding and then coming out is a painful and perilous business. Patty is not alone. I'm sure there are others. It amazes me how quickly one can succumb to the anxiety of coming out. My Unitarian Universalist faith is clearly at the center of my life. My family, my friends, my profession, all are within the context of our faith. You would think I would have nothing to lose by being fully out as a UU. But several years ago, I began attending an ecumenical clergy group in very conservative Carroll County. At my second meeting I found myself to be the subject of discussion -- could they accept a non-Christian as a member? It took the executive committee several months, but the answer eventually was, "No." They could receive me as a guest -- they were Christians after all, and required to be hospitable -- but membership was limited to Christians. And so with my tenuous guest status, I became hesitant. What issues did I dare bring up? What bumper stickers could I have on my car? What buttons could I wear? Too bad I didn't have one of these "Let's talk about family values" buttons then. It was a most instructive experience for me. People are closeted about a whole host of issues. Think of how people deny an alcohol problem even to themselves. Or they tell their parents they are studying engineering, when they have really switched majors to Elizabethan poetry. Or they let people tell Polish jokes without pointing out that they are Polish -- or that they are UU's, and offended by ethnic jokes. Think of what it is like to be a political conservative in a UU congregation. Or a mystical Christian in a UU congregation. Or a Gay Republican UU Pagan? Think of people struggling to hide their illiteracy. Think of those coming to grips with abuse, who may think of themselves as victims, or sinners. We carry around a lot of secrets that we may deem shameful or dangerous. Sometimes they are all consuming. Other secrets affect a smaller part of our lives, but are still troublesome at times. Being burdened by secrets may damage our souls and distort our relationships with others. At different times and places in human history people have hidden their religion, their ethnicity, their race -- when that is possible -- their gender. Mostly it's not this extreme. But people whose nature or characteristics or experiences are deemed unacceptable by society have to face this question. Coming out is hard to do. I need to make a distinction here. I am talking about being who we are, about living with integrity. I do not mean to tolerate coercive or harmful behavior. I do not mean that people who claim that their deepest nature is to be an ax murderer should be allowed to get away with murder. I mean that people who have been victimized should be able to acknowledge their experience so that they can heal. And the victimizers of this world should be required to acknowledge their sins so that they can make restitution, and move towards justice and compassion and healing. And people who have been told that their very nature is an abomination should not be required to live hidden and fearful about who they are. I've heard a bitter joke about this issue that tells us something about our society. It takes the form of a riddle: What is the difference between being Black and being Gay? Answer: if you're Black, you don't have to figure out how to tell your mother. . . . That's not to say that the situation for blacks and gays is strictly comparable. Both groups are oppressed in this culture, but their experiences are different. Each individual's experience, after all, is unique. And it would be fruitless to get into a discussion of whose situation is worse. Besides, an African American may not have to tell her mother what she is, but in every social situation there remains the question of coming out. Imagine being a black student at a mixed, but largely white, Christian seminary. Imagine having experiences of racism on that campus. Now imagine that, along with all the other students you are required to attend a two day retreat on racism. The last such workshop, two years ago, had been angry and confrontive all around. People are nervous about this one, aside from not being thrilled at having to spend the two days at any workshop, and the humiliation of having to sign in so that you get credit for going. The groups are carefully arranged so that there are two or three blacks in each group of 15. I don't have to imagine this. I was there. I was the facilitator in one of these groups. The first question goes out, about racism on campus. The black students glance at each other. Are you going to be the first to speak out? Are you going to tell it like it is? Or will you remain polite and quiet. It's a lot easier not coming out of the closet on this one. Only then, no one will learn anything new. I had a little hint myself of what it is like to be closeted. Many years ago, I was a single parent, working on an MBA at the Wharton School in Philadelphia, trying to put my life together after a divorce. I was dating a charming young classmate, kind and intelligent, and good looking, in his late twenties to my early thirties. He was nominally Catholic and active in Transcendental Meditation circles, while I was a lapsed UU at that time. His family -- Michael was the oldest of 7, and the only son -- lived in Washington. The sisters were all still at home, with the parents and the family pet rabbit. Over spring break, he was home visiting them. I was going to be in Washington for a day, and agreed to have dinner with his family. By this time, I knew the relationship wasn't going anywhere, but it was pleasant enough to spend a little time with him. I arrived in the late afternoon, and we meditated together, then visited with one of his sisters, and played with the rabbit until his mother came home and started dinner. Just before we went to the table, Michael pulled me aside and said quietly, "Don't mention to my parents that you are divorced and have children." I was stunned. My children were central to my life. If I erased them, what was I? And how could I account for myself? Being a full time parent was a big chunk of my resume. Against my better judgment, I went along with his request. It was his parents, after all. I assured myself that if I had seen a future in the relationship, I would have refused, but this seemed harmless enough. And it was more or less harmless. But uncomfortable. I hadn't taken into account that his father was a trial attorney, experienced at examining witnesses. What a time I had, trying to explain my life. I lived in a large house in the suburbs. By myself? How had I acquired it? What had I been doing with my life? I had nothing to talk about. Every interesting subject seemed fraught with danger of being found out. It was a difficult evening. I was relieved when it was time to go home. The memory of that evening still makes me squirm. But it was just an evening, and it was inconsequential. But think about people for whom the whole of life is a closet. Think of people whose deepest nature is considered unacceptable to society. Think of the risks -- of losing your job, your family, your respectable place in the community. What does living in a closet mean to a Gay or Lesbian person? What does coming out mean? An excellent book, Coming Out: An Act of Love, by Rob Eichberg, is a book addressed to Gay men and Lesbians, and to those who care. Those who care, not just about Gays and Lesbians, or about justice and mercy, but those who care about themselves. It is a book from which any person could learn more about being truly themselves. And in describing what Eichberg has written, I find myself switching between "they" and "we" and "you." This book is for all who wish to examine their lives more closely. Listen to what Eichberg says about being in the closet, about the confusion and anxiety a person feels in hiding: [This] may be painful and involve hiding and denial. Because your self esteem is negatively affected, you can feel depressed and powerless. You may also feel self pity, regret, shame, grief, sadness, self abasement, hopelessness, unworthiness, embarrassment, numbness, fear, despair, terror, or resentment. You may feel angry with yourself or with others because of your perceived need to hide and your fear that you will not be accepted if you tell the truth. Your anger, however, is likely to be expressed in a covert manner, since you may fear that expressing directly it might generate a confrontation with another person and may lead to more self disclosure than you are ready for. You might become cynical or sarcastic or distance yourself in some way. (43) He cites a letter from Richard to his parents: After being bar mitzvah, I used to pray for forgiveness and hoped I could change, although I knew that it wasn't possible. . . .All I really wanted to do was to be what you wanted me to be. (43) Coming out, says Eichberg, is a process, and not a singular event. He describes a three phase process of coming out. First you must come out personally. This is the internal processing, of facing up to what you must know about yourself. Roy Cohn, was a rich and powerful and intelligent lawyer, so powerful that his support of Joseph McCarthy threatened the very foundations of American democracy. Yet he could never name himself, not even to himself. He died of AIDS, but he insisted to the end that it was liver cancer. Cohn was memorialized starkly in a panel on the AIDS quilt. I stumbled on it unexpectedly when I first visited the quilt. I hadn't read about the panel before I saw it. I had no idea that Cohn was gay or had AIDS. It came as a shock, a plain unadorned panel: just the name and the dates and three words: Bully, Coward, Victim. That panel summed up a distorted and dishonest life, a cruel life in a closet. Those who get through this phase of denial -- those who are not crushed by persecution, hounded to suicide or twisted into monstrosity -- come to acknowledge and accept themselves as they are. Eichberg says it is a process of becoming comfortable with yourself and sharing yourself freely with others. The most important thing is to trust yourself and to tell the truth. (42) It sounds simple enough, but it is a challenge. Eichberg calls the second phase the private phase, when you come out selectively to individuals, in a private way. Often people begin with those who are new in their lives, or casual acquaintances -- the stakes are lower with these people than with the most significant people in our lives. The feedback from this phase of the process is useful in determining how to go on. Eventually, working through different parts of our lives and different kinds of relationships, we become truthful with the most significant people in our lives -- people like parents. When we have told our most important people the truth about ourselves, and feel good about ourselves, we can present our sexuality as just a part of ourselves. Then we are ready for the public phase of coming out. (44f) Coming out publicly means freedom. You no longer have to remember who knows and who doesn't. No energy has to go into lying or protecting the truth. Your sexuality - or whatever your coming out issue is -- is just a part of who you are, not something hidden. Eichberg quotes a letter from Bud: Until I was in college I denied my gayness, lied about it, was afraid of it, and in short did everything but deal with it. I was making myself miserable with a double life by living one thing and feeling quite another. It has only been in the last two years that I have come to terms with who I am and how to live constructively and responsibly with that. I feel free, serene, content, and happy. I live one day at a time with as much responsibility, creativity, integrity, and honor as I can muster. (46) Several years ago a group of Gay and Lesbian high school students came out publicly in Salt Lake City. At East High, they formed the Gay and Straight Student Alliance to show that you can be out in high school and still survive. President Kelly Peterson, interviewed on Morning Edition, said that the club wants to raise the self esteem of gay students, and promote a healthy lifestyle. The school board was outraged, and wanted to ban the club. Under the law, however, if any club is allowed, all must be. No club could be banned on the basis of its content -- a law that had been enacted recently to allow religious clubs in school. So the school board voted 4-3 to ban all non-academic clubs at the school, including the Bible Club and the Young Republicans. Now the whole student body is upset. Some blame the Gays for the ban, but Kelly Peterson pointed out, "It's not our fault. The boat was already rocking." Other students see it all as the adults being ridiculous again. Then hundreds of students stood outside the state legislature protesting. Tragically, one fourteen year old girl was severely injured when she was hit by a car during the demonstration. And also tragically, some of the students would rather see their Gay and Lesbian colleagues back in the closet. A small student group calls itself SAFE, for Students Against Gays Everywhere. Only they used a word for Gays that's not in my vocabulary. The courageous gay and straight students of the Alliance learned firsthand the costs -- and the benefits -- of being out. (Morning Edition, Friday, February 23, 1996) But the adults did not learn. This all happened four years ago, but just recently I heard of another school board banning clubs to silence Gays. This public phase, and the entire process of coming out, is not without its risks. In a chapter on living powerfully and coming out powerfully, Eichberg gives step by step instructions for coming out carefully and with integrity and power. He points out that it is not possible to become more powerful with your sexuality, or with coming out, or with anything else in your life without taking risks. (147) But the risks are worthwhile, because the only way to live a whole life, a life of integrity, is to come out. Coming out is coming home to yourself. Eichberg says that the rewards for being truthful are great, and the self respect and self-esteem that follow cannot be explained until you experience them for yourself. He lists 5 reasons for coming out, five ways in which coming out is coming home:
Coming out is an act of love. Coming out nourishes the integrity of the one coming out, and it honors the integrity of the persons he or she tells. It enables the person coming out to get beyond their private concerns and take a proper and loving role in society. As Eichberg points out, "You are not likely to focus on making a contribution to society if you are dealing with your own survival or if you feel isolated and apart from others". (50) This is why it is important for our congregations to be places where it is safe to come out. We believe in the inherent worth an dignity of every person. We expect each person to embark on a search for truth and meaning, and to live out the faith they find on that journey. We need to provide a safe and loving context where all people can live in integrity and dignity and be themselves, whoever they are. This is why it is important that this congregation is a Welcoming Congregation, that you distribute the Blade here, that both Gay and straight people feel free to wear triangles, that different kinds of families are truly families here. This is one of the ways is which you truly function as a beloved community of memory and hope. I would like to end with an excerpt of a letter from a young man called Jim to his parents. It is a letter of love and integrity, a letter of coming out and coming home. He writes: It has not always been easy being gay and hiding, lying to you, pretending I was not what I am. Jim came out. Jim came home. Whoever we are, whatever our issue, may we all find a way to be who we are. May we all come out, may we all come home. Closing Words#698 Postlude |