Our Gospel Stories: Some personal reflections on GSTHW May 2024 (Hastings)

 

For me the 22^nd -23^rd May at the Anglican General Synod / Te Hīnota Whānui (GSTHW) were two significant days.

We started the morning with an informal meeting of any attending the conference who identified themselves as rainbow, deciding to form a group on social media… and heard some snippets of the stories that were represented. There was a certain amount of thinking around “how could we be a group that could operate within the Anglican context … and have a positive input into any future discussions around sexuality. Either on this day (or at our next gathering the following day) I said my usual “for anything we hear of from others who do not want to include us… it really is a choice between love and fear.” Certainly, having a conversation with an Anglian Community of St Mark person (who was lovely) I was aware that one of the prime reasons for their formation appears to be fear – not love. For them, It’s about signing up to particular (orthodox-conservative) set of beliefs, which seem to be all about a gospel that doesn’t have much love.

On the 23^rd, we had a significant presentation (see 25 minutes in) from Fr Gregory Boyle and Steve Avalos from Homeboy Industries in Los Angeles. Fr. Greg is a Jesuit priest working with generational gang members in challenging neighbourhoods in LA, and this ministry has developed into something similar to the Fountain House (club-house) model in mental health. Fountain House fundamentals of being wanted, needed and included in everyday life, translated in the Homeboy setting to 4 key principles of:

1. Inclusion
2. Non violence
3. Unconditional loving kindness
4. Compassionate acceptance.

“Only the soul that ventilates with tenderness can save the world. This is about returning us to ourselves – no us and them, but only us.”

This was powerful and extremely moving, especially one story of a gang member (Mario) Fr. Greg took with him to a conference of Social Workers. This included a recollection of a significant moment where, for Mario, who felt he was not good enough and had nothing to offer his own children, had a figurative mirror held up by a stranger in the audience to reflect back to him what a truly beautiful person he was. It sounded like a “scales falling off the eyes” moment when someone pointed out to him in an audience of a thousand people, what he was unable to see himself: his love, gentleness, kindness and wisdom.

In the following panel discussion with Fr. Greg and Steve, Hirini Carr (Tikanga Māori) spoke of how the story of this group of people “on the edge” resonated in terms of Māori – they are similarly generationally disenfranchised, overrepresented in prison and deprivation statistics, often feeling visibly invisible (my words).

That’s when things started unravelling a bit for me.

It struck me again of how I (and so many other rainbow-people) are invisible and marginalised in church settings – intentionally and unintentionally.

For the last 30+ years I’ve always been part of Christian faith communities who are open and affirming to LGBQTI - rainbow people (some have articulated this more clearly than others!) and have taken part in Christian events like Awaken (via Diverse Church NZ). Despite all this, I’m invisible.

I need to be careful with some in the church in terms of saying who I am and where I have come from. I always think twice before revealing much about myself, even significant things like getting married to Marty last month are selectively broadcast.

I’ve been “fortunate” in not having much push back about when I’ve chosen to speak, but it still comes down to a particular crunch moment for me:

I’ve been a part of the church for over 62 years… but the essential “me” has mostly felt invisible. I have given a significant part of my life and income to the church – but I could not get married in an Anglican church building. It was so special to (in essence) have the church come to us (Bishop Kelvin, Bishop Steve and others) … but I was excluded from doing the whole ceremony in a scared space.

For me, this was (and still is at times) overwhelming, and I wonder: when will we feel totally included and loved? When will we be totally accepted and given all the rights and privileges of anyone else in the church without a “yes, but…” being involved? When will we stop having scriptures used as weapons against us… and instead being pointed to love, which is what the good news of Jesus Christ is all about? When will it be all about this love, and not about fear?

I have lots of positive faith stories for myself and others… but also am deeply sad about the past and present stories of trauma I still hear. Like the one I heard during this week of a (then) youth rep at another NZ Anglican Synod trying to stand up and add a voice of faith, reason and scripture into same sex blessing conversations at the time, only to have their chair literally taken away from the table by a senior church clergyman, who in such a cruel, heartless way was saying “you are not part of the Kingdom”.

When will we have experiences like our Homeboys brothers and sisters of being ventilated with tenderness and welcomed without restriction?

I always remember a fabulous movie “Pride” (2014), based on a true story, where a marginalised gay activist (Gay Pride) group in London felt the best way they could get anywhere was to form an alliance with another (similarly) marginalized group. They chose striking coal miners in Margaret Thatcher’s Britain. They randomly chose one small mining village in Wales that faced the closure of the local pit and set about raising money for them – no strings attached, no agenda.

What always struck me was how they became such unexpected allies after a huge amount of initial hostility and suspicion from this isolated community. It really came down to people recognising that all of us are human, made in God’s image, and what unites us is more than what divides us. In fact, once fear is dismantled and love starts to take hold, all of our stories are the same: of pain, loss and redemption. Gospel stores that shout out God’s love.

The miners ended up being a significant force in the British Labour party (who, to start with, couldn’t care a toss about gay rights) leading to the reform of legislation that marginalised and excluded the rainbow community.

After this week, I’m still left with one question:

When will the church hear and be transformed by our stories… and love us (we are them, it not them and us) as unconditionally as we are loved in Christ?