Kelley over at A Wonderful Journey wrote a post yesterday that got me get weepy in Starbucks. I hate getting teary-eyed at Starbucks. The napkins make rotten tissues. My nose gets plugged, dulling the taste of my espresso. People look at me with puzzled expressions. More so than usual. But there you have it. On a sunny but cool Thursday afternoon, having scored the one table near an electrical outlet and accompanied to the sounds of coffee grinding, espresso shushing, and steamed air hissing into pots of frothy milk, I’m blowing my runny nose into tissues one step up in softness from cardboard. Thanks Kelley. I owe you. Oh, how I owe you.
SisterFriends. For those who don’t know the history of what happened here or what it truly has come to mean to so many of us, I thought I’d provide a summary of how we came to be because it’s quite a story of amazing grace and God making something good from something sucky.
Less than a year after I came out as a lesbian, I fell in love and then within the next year proceeded to have my heart broken in true lesbian-drama fashion. After a few months of living in the land of Woe-Is-Me, I decided to do something about it by turning my attention away from my heart break to my gratitude and so I created a web page to share my story of being a Christian and a lesbian.
I often say that I began christianlesbians.com as a way of sharing my testimony and while that’s true, the underbelly of the truth is I also did it to keep my mind and spirit occupied with thoughts and feelings unrelated to my grief over a broken relationship. Some people drink to forget. Other people take up a hobby to fill their days. I went cyber.
As the months passed by, I began receiving a continual stream of emails from women around the world who were reaching out for support in their journey to reconcile their faith and sexuality. The one thing I had plenty of in those days was time and so I’d spend hours each day, from early afternoon until late evening writing back to every woman (man, parent, spouse, child) who wrote me. The stories of courage, heartbreak, integrity, and hope coursing through those emails inspired me. These strangers who were reaching out for help in emails had no idea their emails were healing me.
At some point I couldn’t keep up with the correspondence that was coming in and at the same time it became increasingly obvious that what these women needed was more than a connection with me but with a whole community of others with shared concerns, interests, and life experiences. Besides, here I was, privileged to be meeting and talking with all these incredible, delightful, and brilliant Christian (or Jewish or seeking or agnostic) women through email and I realized the time had come for me to introduce them to each other and so I started a mailing list to bring them all together. In time the number of mailing circles grew to include 16 lists with a total membership of approximately 800-1000 women. Initially these mailing lists were called “Christian Lesbians” but that created a problem for women who were closeted and sharing their computer so we eventually changed the names of our mailing lists to “SisterFriends” to provide a little more ambiguity should a family member stumble across their email.
While some of the mailing lists have dissolved over time, a handful of the original lists continue to correspond with one another up to today and over the years these women have grown into a strong community of friends. They love each other and care about each other. They’ve stood with each other through every moment of life; coming out to family and church, endings of relationships, beginnings of new ones, the birth of grandchildren, the loss of aged parents, diagnosis of cancer, celebrations of weddings and anniversaries and birthdays. They’ve welcomed new members into their circles and tearfully said goodbye to a few women who after long and courageous battles succumbed to illness. Through all these years they’ve shared words of encouragement and support, prayed for one another, hoped for one another, and teased one another mercilessly.
SisterFriends-Together is an extension of this community of gay, straight, bisexual, and transgendered women. I know the words I write are my words and the stories I tell are my stories but really, it’s always done with every woman who’s a part of SisterFriends in mind. I’m thinking of the emails I’ve received over the years, the stories I’ve been honored to hear, the heart-wrenching questions that have asked and those images and words and emotions are with me. It’s hard to explain because it’s held so close in my heart that I fear any attempt would miserably fail. I guess the thing is this, I recognize that I’m not in a position from this distance and in this medium to offer genuine ongoing pastoral care to anyone who reads what I write or to develop the kind of personal relationship with anyone that would allow me to be their pastor. I acknowledge fully my limitations in this capacity but even while I’m not a pastor to any of the women of SisterFriends, I love each of them, each of you, with a pastor’s heart. Question my authenticity and judge me about a thousand different things. Just believe this as the most real and true thing I can and ever tell you. I care very much about you and more than I want anything else, I want you to live fully in the love and grace of God. I long for you to walk fully and confidentally as the woman or man God has created you to be. I desire above all else that you would know peace, peace within yourself and in your relationship with the God who at this very second as my finger is touching the keyboard is loving you beyond your wildest imagination and is unabashedly proud to call you son or daughter. Here’s God’s perfect timing in all this. As I was typing the last couple sentences D came into the Starbucks where I’m writing to meet me for a coffee. “Your face is red. Are you okay?” she asked with a sweet little look of concern. “Oh I’m fine,” I answered. “I’m just trying to tell the women how much I care about them and what I hope for them.” She wasn’t at all surprised by my explanation because she’s heard it before.
So here we are. SisterFriends Together. No one is more surprised by me than what God has done here and is continuing to do among us. It’s the craziest thing and I love God for it, and I’m knocked-to-the-knees grateful and humbled that I get to just be a part of it.
If you find yourself longing for a community of people who will understand you, accept you, and welcome you, then I want to encourage you take a few minutes to join our Community forum. If you’re struggling with questions about your sexuality and faith, there are women there on a similar journey, some further down the road than where you find yourself today, who can talk with you and pray with you. Get involved in the commuity and in time you’ll feel like you’re among friends because you will be. If you’re bisexual and have felt in the past that lesbians have judged you in anyway, I hope you give our community a chance to welcome you and honor your life just as it is. If you’re a transwoman who feels held to the outside of other lesbian circles, please come join us and we’ll embrace you as a Sister in Christ and as the woman you’ve always known you are. We’re all learning and growing together and so we’re going to make mistakes at times. We might say things the wrong way but with the best of intentions. Be patient with us and help us do better for those who follow you.
I pray that in some way, however small it might be that SisterFriends would be a place of grace in your life. After all, we can all use a little more grace.
On Saturday evening our friends Heather and Denise were married…again. D and I are ahead of them by one with a wedding count of 3 to 2 but who’s counting? I mean it’s not as if it’s a competition though if it were, we would obviously be the winners!
Anyway, though the girls did not request, much to my surprise, that D and I sing a duet version of Capt’n and Tenille’s poignant love ballad, “Muskrat Love” at their ceremony, they did ask that I prepare a children’s talk to present to their nieces and nephews. While Denise and Heather are aunties to all the children, the nature of their relationship had never really been explained to the kids and so they wanted something included in the ceremony for the children. While I don’t remember exactly what I said since most days I don’t remember where I parked my car when leaving the grocery store, this is a sketchy facsimile.
With four or five children seated on the floor around me I placed a large gift box, wrapped in silver and white wedding paper and tied up with shimmery silver ribbons and bows on the floor between us. I pointed out all the wedding things that were visible from where we sat; the flowers, the candles, the special musicians, the robed pastor, the wedding cake, and a church filled with friends and family. As I talked about all the usual things that are normally part of a wedding, I’d run my hand along the sides and across the top of the wedding present.
“I don’t know about you but I’ve noticed that there’s one thing missing and that’s a bridegroom. Huh. Have most of the weddings you’ve been to had a bride and a bridegroom? Sure, but at this wedding there’s a bride……and well look at that, another bride. Denise and Heather are the brides and this is their wedding.”
I spent a couple minutes talking about Denise and Heather and then with my attention turned back to the wedding present, my hand still tracing around the sides, I continued.
“Here we are today, gathered to celebrate Heather and Denise’s wedding and their love for one another, but there are other people in the world who have come up with all sorts of ideas for what makes a wedding a wedding and nothing else will do. It’s like they take their ideas and build boxes for them and it becomes really hard for them to make room in their boxes for ideas that aren’t like their ideas. They think those ideas won’t fit and so they keep their box closed tight. ‘Two brides at a wedding,’ they say. ‘Oh no, that will never do! That’s not a real wedding!’”
As I continued talking to the kids, I began to slowly slip the ribbons off the box, and slower still began to lift the lid….
“But here’s the amazing thing that people sometimes forget and others just don’t know…”
As the lid of the box was removed a heart-shaped helium balloon burst out, floating up 12 feet tethered to the inside of the box by a long ribbon.
“Love can never be held inside a box. Love always breaks the boxes people make, because love is too big and too wonderful and too powerful to be kept inside a box, and so sometimes a man will love a woman and a woman will love a man, and other times a man will love a man or a woman will love a woman.”
As I continued I’d occasionally pull the string so that the balloon would begin to come down and then I’d release it again to float back up to the ceiling.
“Do you know why love is like that? I think it’s because the Bible tells us that ‘Love is from God and God is love,’ and how could God ever be kept in a box or the love God has for us or the love God fills us with for another person? And so today we say thank you God for love so big that no box can hold it. Love that always bursts our boxes wide open!”
Before sending them back to their seats I gave each of the children a transculent plastic box filled with little candies and told them that because the boxes were stuffed so full of candy it would be impossible for them to open them without a little candy spilling out and that when that happened I wanted them to remember how love can’t be kept in a box without spilling out all over. It might be messy but it’s a good messy!
In ancient Palestine there were 613 rules, determined by the rabbis from within the Law of Moses (the first five books of the Old Testament) that were binding to the Jews; 245 of these were positive commands corresponding to the number of parts of the body, and 365 of them were negative commands corresponding to the number of days of the year. These 613 commandments governed every area of human life and interaction and were considered by the rabbis to be equal to each other and equally binding.
In Matthew 22 Jesus entered Jerusalem for the final time and even in this, the week leading to his crucifixion, the Pharisees were determined to trip Jesus up on questions centered in the law in a three-round theological smack-down.
Round One: The Pharisees tested Jesus’ loyalties to God or man by asking whether it’s was right to pay taxes to Caesar and Jesus came back by flashing a coin bearing the image of Caesar. “Give to Caesar what is Caesar’s and to God what is God’s.” Jesus 1. Pharisees O.
Round Two: Next they quiz Jesus on the Levirate law that requires a man to marry his deceased brother’s wife if his brother died without a son. “If a man dies without a son and his brother marries his widow but he too dies before a son and each of the remaining five brothers in turn marry her but die before a child is born, in heaven to whom of the seven brothers will she belong?” Jesus answering by telling them their question reveals they don’t even understand the Scriptures or the power of God. “At the resurrection people won’t be married or given into marriage but will be like the angels. God is God of the living and not the dead.” Jesus 2. Pharisees 0.
Round Three: With the first two rounds going unanimously to Jesus, one of the heavy-hitters among the Pharisees decides to go after Jesus by asking him which is the most important of all the commandments in the law, or which of those 613 laws is greater than the others. While we know the motive of the questioning was to trap Jesus, the intention of the question is less certain but a possibility is the Pharisees were thinking if they could get Jesus to name one of the laws or a set of laws (ceremonial, purity, property, moral) as greater than the others, he could be seen as disparaging the rest of the Law. Not a good thing to do.
The other answer Jesus could have given would have been to give the right answer, that being that all the Law came from God and therefore every commandment of the Law was great. That would have been the traditional orthodox answer. The problem was had Jesus given the right answer, the Pharisees would have then volleyed back at him by asking him to then explain how it was, with all the Law being great and from God, that he and his disciples had on occasion broken some of the Law. What the Pharisees seems to lose sight of was that Jesus never violated the Law of God. What he was breaking in allowing his disciples to gather grain on the sabbath, or to eat without ceremonial washing of their hands or not chiding an unclean woman for touching him (Matthew 15:1-6, Luke 6:1-4, John 5:8-18,Luke 11:37-41) was the code of interpretation that had been added in layers to the law by the rabbis. Jesus violated the tradition of the elders (Pharasaic law and oral interpretation) but not the divine law of God. How often do we as Christians accuse other believers of being disobedient to the Word of God when in reality, all that’s been violated is a particular human interpretation of Scripture?
Okay. Back to how Jesus ended up answering the final question.
Hearing that Jesus had silenced the Sadducees, the Pharisees got together. One of them, an expert in the law, tested him with this question: “Teacher, which is the greatest commandment in the Law?” Jesus replied: ” ‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’ This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments.
That’s right. Jesus 3. Pharisees O.
The answer Jesus gave was two-fold. First, he quoted a portion of the Shema found in Deuteronomy 6:4-5. “Love the Lord your heart with all your heart, and with all your soul and with all your mind,” The Shema is central to Judaism. It’s the prayer spoken every morning and evening, the first prayer children learn, and the prayer encapsulated in mezzuzot and affixed to the door frame of every Jewish home. Jesus could have chosen no more meaningful or familiar words to speak into the moment.
Before anything else, Jesus said that we must first love God with all that we are; in our full human and spiritual totality. It’s a love so deeply grounded within our spirits that we can’t separate any part of ourselves from our love for God. Love for God is embodied in emotions (heart), deeply rooted within the core of our being (soul) and woven into our intellectual thought life (mind). This all consuming devotion and love for God is the first and greatest commandment.
And then, as with the Gospels elsewhere, Jesus linked love for God with love for neighbor; neighbor being all people, ally or enemy. Jesus was asked to give one great commandment but instead he gives two that are equal and inseparable; love God and love others. The one isn’t secondary to the other but both are essential to the other because to love God is to love others, and to love others is to love God. Again, the love Jesus referred to doesn’t consist of mushy sentimentality but is a commitment to covenantal love; steadfast, committed, accountable and active. This is the quality of love we’re to hold for ourselves and extend to others, friend or foe. This is the ethic of love demonstrated in the life and teaching of Jesus earthly ministry; an ethic of love grounded in and flowing from God.
By citing love for God and love for others as the greatest commandment Jesus wasn’t suggesting that the law of love replaced or abolished the need for all the other commandments. What Jesus was proposing was that all the law was to be interpreted and applied in consideration of this ethic of love, and not only the law of God but also all the words of the Prophets. Every written word of God’s law and every spoken word of the Prophets hinged on how it held up to the Law of Love. Love is the first consideration and the final reflection. I know claiming Jesus was a radical is a worn cliché but in this case, I’m going to succumb. This is Jesus’ teaching in its most radical and pure form. This is what it was all about. His life. His purpose. His message. Love. God’s love. Love for God. Love of self and love for neighbor.
I’m not an ethicist. I’m just a person like you who wants to live ethically and morally in this world. I’m a Christian who desires that the choices I make for my life embody my faith and reflect some glimmer of the love and grace of God. Socrates said that “The truly wise man will know what is right, do what is good and therefore be happy.” There’s incredible spiritual truth in that; that when you know what’s right (what God desires) and you do it, it will lead you to happiness. Even if it comes at a price there’s contentment and inner peace in knowing you’ve done the thing that seems most right in your understanding before God. But how is it that we become, in Socrates’ words, truly wise? I think I’m becoming convinced more and more that true wisdom is ultimately found by those who hang everything on Jesus’ law of love. This love is more than able to determine everything. This love is more than enough to guide every ethical decision before us.
I’m not done on this topic. I want to spend more time talking about how Jesus’ law of love can lead and shape us, and how it can be helpful in the ethical decisions we make from who we sleep with to how we spend our money to whether we live green to how as queer believers we’re to respond to injustice everywhere.
I want to talk more about all this but for now I just want to be with it.
I realized today that it’s been nearly two months ago since I started a sporatic series on (queer) Christian sexual ethics with a post titled Lesbian Sex, Free Downloads, and Naked Photos. I know you’ll be nonplussed to learn that particular post gets the highest number of hits every day, a result of some fairly freaky words and phrases people are putting into their search engines including but not limited to, and I quote here, disavowing all personal culpability for what is to follow, lesbian sex photos, lesbians playing around, outside lesbian sex, sex photos and free downloads, lesbian sex free, lesbians having fun together, photos of naked women together, and for a reason that totally escapes me, and the wheels on the bus go round and round. Now, you know I’ve got a dozen smart-alecky comebacks for each and every one of those but I’m just going to take a deep breath and think happy non-related thoughts.
Inhale. Happy thought. Exhale. Okay then. So if you missed any of the posts or need a refresher on the material we’ve covered so far since it’s taken me forever to get back on topic, here are the posts as they appeared in chronological order.
To this point I’ve focused much of the discussion on breaking down traditional teachings of biblical sexual ethics that are often presented as absolutes within the conservative church such as marriage is between one man and one woman, sex outside of marriage is prohibited, and celibacy is required of gays and lesbians; This trifecta of morality has for the most part comprised the cornerstone of the churches’ teaching on human sexuality and what I proposed is that the biblical teaching on marriage and sex lacks such certitude and instead contains ambiguous and conflicting messages within the biblical account when viewed as a singular unified witness.
Beginning with the following posts I want to change things up by proposing that while the Bible doesn’t provide us with a standardized one-size-fits-all code of sexual ethics, what it does do is provide us with one overarching ethical standard that’s more than enough to guide and equip us in all areas of ethical living. Some people fear that without absolute answers we’ll be left floating in a sea of ambiguity where relevant morality reigns and anything goes. Nothing could be further from the truth because the ethical standard we have to guide us requires far more of us than simple obedience to a codified law but it calls us to something higher and greater than doing the right thing, but to doing the right thing rightly motivated.
I’ll have another post up before the end of the day that will be another installment in our series on (queer) Christian Sexual Ethics, but until then I thought I’d show you what D and I will be wearing on Sunday, September 14, when we join with others from Marriage Equality USA for an equality march across the Golden Gate Bridge. I totally detest it when couples dress in matching clothing, particularly if it involves Hawaiian print of any kind, however for a worthy cause, I’m willing to put aside my fashion sense for the greater good. [To view a larger image click on the photos]
I’ve been brokenhearted since viewing this last night. How have we fallen so far and how can we find our way again? [Warning: Film footage is from a Dateline NBC report on the conditions of disabled children in Serbia and is quite disturbing to view]
A lesbian with a great singing voice who writes smokin’ lyrics and sweet melodies.
I graduated from high school in 1975 but that doesn’t mean I can’t have yearbook photos from 1960 - 1990 and all the years in-between. You’re going to have fun with this one!
I just learned that lesbian pioneer Del Martin (left) passed away today with her wife Phyllis Lyon at her side. After a 55 year long partnership, Del and Phyllis were legally married on June 16 of this year.
That’s an incredible thing my dear friends and I thank God they lived to have such a moment; a moment that no opponents to marriage equality can ever take away.
Please do yourself a favor and read about the incredible work Del Martin and Phyllis Lyon have done over the years for GLBTQ equality that you and I have benefited from in immeasurable ways.
To love and to cherish, til death us do part…
Ever since I met Del 55 years ago, I could never imagine a day would come when she wouldn’t be by my side. I am so lucky to have known her, loved her and been her partner in all things.
I also never imagined there would be a day that we would actually be able to get married. I am devastated, but I take some solace in knowing we were able to enjoy the ultimate rite of love and commitment before she passed. - Phyllis Lyon, 83, in a recent statement following the death of her spouse
I found the handbill you left on our front door Saturday morning with the handwritten note, “Sorry I missed you.” I’m sorry I missed you too. No really. I am. I would have liked the opportunity to meet you and made a little neighborly chit chat before inviting you into my home to talk more about your commitment to the passing of Proposition 8. [Prop 8 is an initiative on the November California ballot that would overturn the recent ruling of the California Supreme Court that allowed marriage equality to same-sex couples, and would write into the California Constitution that marriage is between "one man and one woman." For more information go here or over here.]
On entering our home you might have noticed the framed copy of a recently dated legal marriage license issued by the State of California on our wall. “Wait. Let me call my spouse downstairs to join us” I would have said as I showed you to the living room couch before heading to the foot of the stairs and calling up “Honey, come downstairs for a minute. We have company.” It would only be a minute or two before the most beautiful woman in all my world would have come down the stairs and graciously extended her hand in your direction as I introduced you to my wife.
I hope when you realized you were in the home of two homoSEXuals, and two legally married ones at that, you wouldn’t have bolted for the door because I genuinely would have appreciated the chance to talk to you about the handbill you’d slipped into my hand when I first opened the door to you. There would be plenty I’d want to say to you but first I’d listen because along the way I’ve come to learn that genuine dialogue always begins with as great a commitment to listening as to being heard. “Tell me why you feel so strongly about not allowing gay and lesbian couples to marry? Could you help me understand why you believe that extending legal marriage to include same-sex couples would harm or threaten your marriage, family, and children?”
As you responded to my questions I would have sat back and listened to you without interruption or argument. I would have listened because I would really want to know why you, not a political party, not an organization, not a religious coalition, but you, that nice-enough looking person sitting on the couch across from me was so strongly opposed to my beloved and I having the same legal recognition you share with your spouse; so opposed that you were willing to give up your Saturday morning to walk door to door and advocate your viewpoint.
And so I would listen and in the process of listening I hope I’d learn something about you and gain additional insight on why people like you feel the way you do about people like me, and when you were done, I would hope you could listen to what I wanted to share with you. There would be no need for you to get defensive because what I wouldn’t do is get all up in your face with what I believe the real threats to marriage and families are; of poverty, illiteracy, addiction, infidelity, spousal abuse and child neglect. I wouldn’t quote statistics of present realities that are threatening our nation’s children today; that the United States has the highest child mortality rates of the 23 richest countries in the world or that nearly 65% of African-American children are being raised without a father. I wouldn’t share my personal frustration with how there are television shows that treat marriage like a game show and potential spouses like contestants. I wouldn’t go off on how a straight couple who meet on a Friday and get married on a vodka-induced whim on Saturday have more rights under the law than a gay couple who’ve faithfully and loving stood at each others side for 55 years.
Oh, I would want to tell you all that and I would want to do it with all the fiery passion you could imagine from anyone whose basic right to equality under the law is in the balance. But rather than returning a volley of facts and stats I would instead excuse myself for a moment and go upstairs, returning with the photo of my mom and dad I keep on my nightstand, the photo taken at their 60th wedding anniversary where Mom is reaching out with one hand to gently brush some unseen crumb of anniversary cake off Daddy’s chin as he looks lovingly at her, smiling with all the radiant delight of a little boy at Disneyland. I would show you this anniversary photo taken only two months before my father unexpectedly died before my mother’s eyes and tell you how much they adored one another and how their love and respect for the other could fill a room with its tenderness. Glowing with pride I’d recount for you how so many people have told me over the years what my parent’s relationship meant to them as an example of what a Christian marriage could be and how the enduring quality of my parents love for one another gave them hope for their own marriages.
“My parents taught me through their lives what marriage could be,” I’d say. “My mom and dad defined marriage for me in their love, fidelity, and devotion to one another. What they taught me about love through loving one another was the greatest gift they ever gave me as their daughter,” and then I’d turn to my beloved and tell you that whatever happens on election day, the woman beside me is now and forever will be my wife, that I love her as my father loved my mother and as she loved him, and that for the rest of my days I will love her, be faithful to her, respect and honor her, and give thanks to God each day for the gift of our love. I would tell you I will settle for nothing less in my marriage than what my parents had in theirs. I would try, however inadequately or ineffectually, to explain how the very nature of love, our love included, yearns for the dignity of being recognized, and I would hope in the words spoken and love expressed it would be enough to change your mind and your heart. I would hope that witnessing our love could overcome your fears, but I doubt in the end it would change anything for your mind would be just as fixed as mine and your convictions just as deeply-rooted.
And so after both of us were spent from passionate speech and troubled listening, I’d offer up the all-too-obvious observation that “It looks like your vote will cancel mine and my vote will cancel yours, so it seems between you and I no one wins and no one loses.” Hopefully polite smiles could have been exchanged and respectful goodbyes said at the door before you left our home to continue on to the house next door to hand out another handbill, to try and gain another vote to invalidate the legal marriage license on our wall.
As I first said, I’m sorry you missed us too. But then again, maybe it’s best we weren’t home when you stopped by because I went a little crazy when I read that piece of crapyou had the nerve to leave on the front door of this legally married lesbian couple! Right then I was so furious and outraged that I searched up and down both sides of the street to see if you were still around so I could hand your leaflet back to you with a gruff “The wrong house and the wrong lesbian!” No. I needed 24 hours to rant and rave, stomp and spit, but since then I’ve not only had a night to sleep on it but I’ve been to church where once again I encountered God’s grace at the table and was reminded of the call to bring peace even as we strive for justice.
So if you’re out there reading this, you who left the “Yes on Proposition 8″ handbill on my front door, stop by again sometime soon. I’m home now. Let’s talk.
In my childhood home there was a strictly-enforced no swearing policy. Swearing and name-calling were so off-limits I was afraid of them; afraid that if one of those dreaded nuggets of blasphemy passed over my lips, it might void my ticket on the glory train. I’m not even talking the big swear words known, loved, and excessively used even at this moment by the trio of teenage testosterone at the table next to me at Starbucks. No, the prohibition against swear words and name-calling under my parent’s roof extended to any words that sounded even remotely like the first-string players. Crap, shoot, dang, doggone it, sheesh, shucks, jeeze, jerk, jeepers, creep, and butt all could find me going to my room for a little time to reflect and repent.
For the record, never once did I heard my parents violate their own code. The worse thing I ever heard my father call anyone was a flake and only because he was seething mad and momentarily lost control of himself and flake fell out of his mouth. Even as I write this I can’t help but wonder if somewhere in heaven my dad isn’t reading this post (wouldn’t you think they have awesome wireless up there?) and muttering “Young lady, enough with the potty mouth!” If my dad could even bring himself to say potty mouth, which I doubt he ever could. And yes, he really was that pure and irreproachable and I adored him for it and everything else that made him the most decent man I’ve ever known.
But the thing is, as a young girl, there were times when I really wanted to say a swear word, not because I was driven by moral outrage to use one. I simply wanted to see what it would feel like on my tongue and how it would sound in my ears with my voice. I didn’t want to say the big one, that über-profanity at the top of the list, but one of the minor ones, one of those weak bottom-feeders in the pool of profanity. And then one day I learned how. To say a swear word free of consequences, all I had to do was repeat what someone else said and right before the swear word say “quote-unquote.” It would look something like this:
The adolescent Anita would enter the house through the kitchen door where her mom would be enjoying her last minutes of peaceful calm in the day before she’d begin, “Mom! Mom! Okay, okay, listen to this! Today on the playground we were playing kickball during recess. I’m good at kickball Mom. I’m like the best girl at kickball really I am. I once kicked it over the roof by the third grade classes and no body could believe it and it was so neat, but anyway, so we were playing kickball and Fargo, you know Fargo Mom. He’s the boy who had a girl-boy birthday party last year where there was dancing and everything and so anyway, Fargo was up for his turn to kick but when he went to kick the ball he completely missed it and Mom, Mom, you’re not going to believe it but he said quote-unquote damn it really loud, right there in front of the teacher and everyone.” And then with an appalled yet guileless expression continue,“I’m just saying what Fargo said Mom, I didn’t say it.” I don’t know where I learned this trick, though I imagine my Sunday School peer group would be a likely suspect but regardless of its origin it worked worked every time and by it’s utilization I was able to take a couple second-string swear words out for a test run, absolved of all responsibility for their utterance. I did this quote-unquote thing so frequently for a few years there that had air quotes been in vogue in the early seventies I would have had carpal tunnel by sixth grade.
So what does this recollection have to do with anything? Not much other than I was reminded of it the other day while reading a post that included the following excerpt from Peter LaBarbera from American’s for Truth.
Let’s pretend that homosexual “families” are like other families. Let’s pretend that having a “dad” and another “dad” – and one is more effeminate, one’s more like the mom – is something like a mother and a father.
Did you know there’s actually a new name for quotations used in this way? Hey, I read it on Wikipedia so it must be “true.” They go by the names scare, irony, and distancequotes, quotation marks that enclose a word or phrase that’s meant to provoke a negative reaction, to cast suspicion on the appropriateness or truth of what’s being quoted, and there’s no question it causes a negative reaction, especially for those whose identity, values, or life experience are held within the quotation marks. To those people the quotation marks feel like a dismissive wave of the hand, a tongue in the cheek, and a roll of the eyes. Such is the power of the “ “.
We all use them. They do. We do. And I suppose on some issues we have to if we want to speak directly and honestly. For example it would be difficult for me to address the topic of “ex-gay” without quotation marks since I don’t believe that being “ex-gay” is possible or even a necessity. At the same time I realize that those who claim to be ex-gay do so with the sincere conviction of their beliefs and life experience behind it just as I speak unapologetically of being a gay Christian. It’s dicey. How do we talk our way around challenging and oppositional topics without relying on words or punctuation that undermine another person’s reality or truth? How do we speak with integrity to our truth without tromping over the values and beliefs of someone else? How do we avoid the appearance of being judgmental and disparaging?
The answer? I don’t know. I only know that in a world, church, and blogosphere where a flood of coded quotation marks and sarastic barbs litter the landscape I want to be among those who seek reconcilation and healing as much as justice and equality. There’s got to be a way to do that, don’t you think?
And it was Fargo who said the bad word and not me. Honest!
September 11, 2008 
SisterFriends. For those who don’t know the history of what happened here or what it truly has come to mean to so many of us, I thought I’d provide a summary of how we came to be because it’s quite a story of amazing grace and God making something good from something sucky.
Posted in SisterFriends 
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