Mourning Paris

 I have fond memories of Paris from September 1986. Eric, Erika, and I traveled to Paris via hovercraft and train from our home in England. Erika was 9 months old--a perfect age for traveling. I was looking forward to seeing the Eiffel Tower and the Louvre. I was worried about our lack of language skills, and I was kicking myself for not paying more attention in my high school French classes.
Strangely, I was not worried about dying on a Paris street. I say that because in September, 1986, a series of bombings in Paris had everyone on high alert. I would never have put my child in danger and yet it did not occur to us to cancel our trip.
 We spent a couple of days in Tour, France, and then made our way to Paris. We did notice the presence of French Army troops on almost every street corner, but seeing them made me feel safe. I was confident we could see the city with no problems.
This is part of what I wrote:  "Today we arrived in Paris about 1:30, so had time to go to Notre Dame in the afternoon. It is on the Ile de la Cite, an island considered at the heart of Paris. There have been 4 bombings in the past week in Paris, but people were free to go in and out of Notre Dame--no security presence noted....Stopped for pizza on way back to hotel [Erika ate her first solid food--a mushroom]--heard a big bang and a lot of sirens. Thought it was a bomb (so did all the other restaurant patrons), but did not hear about it if it was. 
Sept. 17th--Went to Louvre, and after waiting 1 1/2 hours in line for door to open, we found it was closed due to "bomb and for security measures". Went through the beautiful gardens to Champs-Elysee and saw for the first time that Paris is really being held hostage by those awful terrorists--there are security police everywhere, some in flack jackets and carrying rifles! Every time you hear a siren, you wonder if or where the bomb went off. Champs-Elysee was worse. You are searched at least once before going into stores. It makes you feel safe, but nervous.
Sept. 18th--Tried again at Louvre, but after 45 minutes, they posted a sign which said the same as yesterday. Surprised it has taken so long to clear the building [I guess I naively though they were looking for bombs inside the building, not protecting the art from further bombings]. We were saddened to hear of another bombing--this quite close to our hotel & it killed 5 people--the 5th bombing in 10 days....Erika kept taking her socks off today, and I was told in 3 different languages by concerned grandmother-types that her feet were cold."
We never did get in to the Louvre, but walked around the city and saw so much. It's a beautiful city, full of history, which is probably why it has been such a target of terrorists for years and years and years. I should mention now, reminding you, that in 1986, there was no internet, there were no cell phones, and it was very expensive to make an overseas call. Within an hour of arriving back at home in England, my mom called from the United States. She was frantic, wondering if we were all right; it never occurred to us to send so much as a telegram from Paris to let her know we were safe, and at the time I pooh-poohed her concern. (I remember blithely saying that if we had been hurt, we had our passports for identification and someone would have contacted her! (What an ass I was)).
 It's good I kept a travel journal from that time; I had forgotten so much of our time in Paris. As I hear more and more about the terrible events of last night, I find no comfort in realizing that the citizens of Paris have mourned like this before, have dealt with sheer terror like this. And I find myself, once again, wondering why...WHY...humans treat each other like this?? What gives another permission to kill the innocent, the guiltless? I know it happens every day, in places all over our world, but that doesn't make any less senseless. A new day, and more innocents die in the name of religion, ideology, or sheer blood thirst.
And again, we find ourselves mourning...this day, mourning Paris.

How Easily We Forget...So I Will Remind You

 In 1848, the Seneca Falls Convention was convened by Elizabeth Cady Stanton and Lucretia Mott. The reason for the Convention? To discuss the "condition of women" broadly, and specifically, to begin to organize and fight for a woman's right to vote.
That was in 1848. The 19th Amendment (giving women the right to vote) was ratified in 1920. I know you can do math, but I will tell you it took
 SEVENTY-TWO YEARS for women to win this basic right. 72 long, stressful years, in which women like Susan B. Anthony gave their whole adult lives (58 years) just to work for a woman's right to vote. Anthony worked for that right every day, and never saw it come to pass. She traveled extensively, through terrible weather, on all forms of ancient transportation (buggies, wagons, trains) and was harassed, spit on, and arrested.
Imagine how she would feel to read this:
"In last year’s national election, Indiana achieved the dubious distinction of having America’s lowest voter turnout, with 30 percent. In LaPorte County, where I live, turnout was abysmal: 18 percent. But this was called an improvement, since just over 13 percent voted in May’s primary."
  
During the SEVENTY-TWO YEARS they fought to secure the right for women to vote, women went to jail. Yes, to jail. The arguably most horrific period in which this occurred began in January 1917, when the "Silent Sentinels" first appeared in front of the White House. The women were peaceably assembling, but by September, when it was apparent they would not leave, and violence against them had not deterred them, the arrests started. The arrested women were sentenced to 30 days in the workhouse. Thirty days in the workhouse, just for asking for the right to vote.
Imagine how they would feel to read this: 
"In sheer vote totals, the downward trend over the past decade-plus is evident. On Tuesday, 8,558 people voted in Lafayette, West Lafayette, Dayton and Battle Ground. In 2011, that number was 11,816. In 2007, just under 16,000 people voted. In 2003, there were 19,641 voters. Tuesday represented a 27.6 percent drop-off in voters from the weakest turnout of the previous three municipal elections."

In the book, Jailed for Freedom, Doris Stevens talks about the experience of suffragists in the workhouse: "The building to which they took us was lighted up as we came to it...We were rushed into a large room that opened on a large hall with stone cells on each side...I saw Dorothy Day brought in. She is a frail girl. The two men handling her were twisting her arms above her head. Then suddenly they lifted her up and banged her down over the arm of an iron bench--twice..."
 Imagine how Dorothy Day would feel when reading this:
"The median age of voters this year: 62. That might be no secret. Older voters tend to be more invested in the community and tend to vote. Still, it’s striking. This week, 41.9 percent of the turnout was from those 65 and older; that same group accounts for 18 percent of the registered voters. Those under 35 accounted for 10.8 percent of the vote, despite making up 37 percent of the voter rolls."  

Again from the book:  "Alice Paul and Rose Winslow, the first two suffragists to undertake the hunger strike, went through the operation of forcible feeding three times a day until their release....[the following was written on scraps of paper and smuggled out of the jail] 'One feels so forsaken when one lies prone and people shove a pipe down one's stomach. Yesterday was a bad day for me in feeding. I was vomiting continually during the process. The tube has developed an irritation somewhere that is painful.'"
Imagine that these women, who gave so much for the likes of us, read this:

"Just 12.9 percent of voters showed up for elections in Lafayette, West Lafayette, Battle Ground and Dayton."

I know how I feel. Are you fucking kidding me?? Just 12.9% of us bothered to vote on Tuesday??!!! There are just no words for that utterly despicable lack of caring about the rest of us. 

Do you feel ashamed? You should.

Stop. This.

I haven't written for a while; there's been vacation, general busyness, normal life, and a non-specific apathy.

It's something we take for granted--those first-world problems of ours. That being said, I'm grateful I am able/allowed/enabled to take advantage of my first-world life, and share my thoughts with you.

It's good to take breaks from the computer, from social media. It's good to not think; not think about the things in the world that you cannot control, the people you cannot convince no matter what. It's good to think about your family and your friends and how good life, in general, can be. That may be in the form of meandering thoughts, or it can be as specific as writing that gratitude down on paper. Taking that break and going out into nature--that's as good as it gets, in my opinion. It's hard to be troubled by the weight of the world when you're watching water dribble over stones, or look into the trees to spot the sunlight and the shadows.
But then you return to reality.
The reality of people in this world who are risking their lives to get to another country because life in their homeland is so much more risky. The reality, while we cannot personally witness it from our comfortable homes, hits us with photos of drowned toddlers and pregnant women, captured on film gasping for air after having been teargassed.
The reality of racism. The reality of those whose white privilege is much a part of their being that they cannot even fathom that they are racist, that racism exists, and that there is a GREAT need to do somethings--many somethings--about it. Yes, I'm talking about you--you who feel compelled to state " #AllLivesMatter " without stopping for a moment to think about what is driving the " @BlackLivesMatter " movement. 
The reality of mass shooting after mass shooting in this land of plenty and beauty; it's so jarring, and so unreal that there are those among us who will deny the roots of this evil because it hasn't yet happened to them...yet. And, when gun violence DOES happen to them, in whatever form, they will be shocked...SHOCKED...that it could happen in their little world, in their safe space. They will then be spurred into action, to tearfully call for something, ANYTHING, to be done, but it will be too late, for they will already have lost someone dear to the death that comes out of the end of a barrel of a gun.
You return to the reality of a nation that has so much, that can do so much, that can contribute so much to the rest of the world, and yet that very nation is so fragmented and uncivil, so uncaring and so unthinking that its' political system is broken, and the rest of the world looks on with stunned incredulity.
Some days, it's just too hard to care; there's just too much to care about.

That Time When I Agreed with Todd Rokita...Twice

This afternoon, I attended a Town Hall meeting, hosted by Representative Todd Rokita. I am on his mailing list, I've read his posts on his Facebook page, and I not only voted against him, I've taken him to task many times, including a couple of Letters to the Editor.
So you might guess where this is going.
His choice of venue for his Town Hall was odd--the local Assembly of God church. I went alone, and was immediately intimidated by all the older, conservative-looking white people who went in to the sanctuary. I grabbed the literature (copies of his Power Point), and was handed a card, so I could write down a question.
I entered the sanctuary, and was immediately taken aback by the Christian music that was filtering through the sound system (can't it just be quiet? Why do we always seem to need music?). I sat toward the front, which meant I really couldn't see who was there, nor how many were there (the J & C reporter estimated 85). I felt really alone in this crowd.
I wrote down my question, which was in response to his statement concerning a now-debunked anti-Planned Parenthood video. I can't remember the exact wording, but it was something like this: "In light of your desire to defund Planned Parenthood, I would like to know what you will now provide for women's health? Planned Parenthood provides contraception, pre-natal check-ups, and cancer screening. If you also want to repeal Obamacare, what--precisely--will be provided especially for low-income women?" I did plan to ask a follow-up, that would remind Rep. Rokita that defunding would not make abortions go away, it would just make them much more unsafe.
The minister opened with a prayer--"God the Father", but kindly left it at that...Did I mention I felt really alone in this crowd? 
Six people stood up, and took turns reading portions of the Constitution. PORTIONS (especially did NOT read the 14th Amendment...).
He talked about the recent Iran Treaty ("It's bad....I haven't read it, but I've been told..."), education reform, improving our infrastructure by increasing the gas tax (!), pushing for a Balanced Budget Amendment, and reforming Medicare and Social Security. For special effect, there was a "Debt Clock" running on the overhead screens the entire time he was talking (but please note there was no mention of how the debt got that high in the first place, nor the fact that it's probably not increasing as rapidly as the clock would have you believe.)
Rep. Rokita then opened the floor for questions. As Pastor Bradford read the question (selected at random from a big box on the chair beside him), the person asking the question stood up. Rokita responded, and there was then an opportunity for the questioner to ask a follow-up. This was where the whole Town Hall got bogged down, and they ran out of time after 10 or so questions. They did not get to my question, which would have covered quite a new topic.
BUT WAIT! HERE'S THE REALLY GOOD PART!!!
The African-American woman sitting right next to me had her question read: "How can a business protect themselves, when they face lawsuits for refusing to cater a gay wedding?"
WHAT???
[I could have had such a conversation with her afterwards, but I didn't.]
WAIT.....
Here's the first time I agreed with Rep. Todd Rokita. He said, "The laws in our country are based, pretty much, on English Common Law. That law says, 'If you are selling goods or services on the King's Highway, you must serve everyone. I agree with that."
Yes!!! He said that. He said that again and again and again, as more and more questions and follow-ups were asked. He also said. "You don't have to be in business. It's not a right."
Now, don't get me wrong--he also said the marriage equality question was one best left to the States (I should have asked him when we could vote on his marriage, but I didn't).
But baby steps.
The second time I agreed with Rep. Rokita was when he was asked, "What can we do to assist you?" Part of his answer was this: "Get involved in the process. Attend meetings like this, and ask questions. Write to members of Congress. Have difficult discussions with people you don't necessarily agree with. Try to understand everyone."
So, there you have it. I attended a Town Hall meeting feeling fired up to disagree with absolutely everything that came out of Rep. Todd Rokita's mouth (and yes, there was plenty of disinformation coming from there). But I sat and listened to a man I had never actually seen in person, and I learned things. I learned that we agree on at least two things.
Get involved. Sit through your discomfort with open ears. Speak when you can, and ask difficult questions. But listen to the answers too.

"It is so ordered"

"It is so ordered."....

Thus ends the Supreme Court opinion that began marriage equality in this country on June 26, 2015. Furthermore, from the majority opinion is this:

"Under the Constitution, same-sex couples seek in marriage the same legal treatment as opposite-sex couples, and it would disparage their choices and diminish their personhood to deny them this right."

When the decision came down that Friday, I was in the midst of preparing a sermon for that next Sunday morning. I wasn't able to give the decision that much thought; I felt joyous, especially for my friends in same-sex relationships, but I really didn't have the luxury to ponder. I read with great interest what others were thinking and feeling; felt uplifted by some and for others, I only felt dismay--at their ignorance and bigotry (sometimes wrapped in their version of religion). I don't know how many times I shouted at the screen or the radio:  "It's a LEGAL DOCUMENT! It's a piece of paper the government should have been issuing, without hesitation, years ago!!!" It's frustrating to hear the ignorance of some who hold official office, or who wish to hold office, as they try to twist their opinions in a way that they think will satisfy--not enlighten or educate--those who might vote for them in the future. It was America at its worst; using tired, wrong logic:  "I believe marriage should be between a man and a woman!" or outright ignorance: "I do not believe our Founding Fathers envisioned a Court where five justices could decide for all."

But I don't want to dwell on those who, in ten years, will have adjusted quite well to our new freedoms.

Having had some time to ponder, I can only say this:  I now feel normal. Completely normal in my own country, in a society that I am a part of every day. [Well, as normal as a feminist liberal can feel.]

When Karen and I made the decision, and then got married, I felt very, very good. Extremely happy. And yet, a part of me felt it wasn't really "real", because there were other same-sex couples in other states all over the country who were not allowed to marry. It's like when you're a kid, and you are given a Popsicle. It tastes good, it's satisfying, but if you are eating it in front of friends who don't also have Popsicles, it's just not that tasty. You feel a little odd, eating it in front of them. You might even notice it tastes weird, and tell your friends, "It's not that good." But when everyone has one? It's fun. It's a party. 

That's how it is now, with marriage equality. It feels right, because every couple in every state is allowed to do it. It's fun, and it's time to celebrate that freedom for all couples.

Tomorrow, it's time to get to work...again...because here, as in a majority of states, "Married on Saturday, fired for being gay on Monday." is a reality.

And racial equality? Time to get to work on that. And on poverty issues.

But for a day, take time to celebrate the good things our country has done. Have you noticed that watching fireworks is such a great equalizer? Everyone, in the dark, looking upwards--seeing the same things at the same moment. Gasping, at the same time, at the beauty. At this moment, we are not a skin color, we are not a gender, we are not an income level. We are all together, celebrating.

Now, let's get to work.

Sermon for Last Sunday in Gay Pride Month....

Last Sunday, I delivered this sermon:

LBGT in Lafayette:  So, What’s the Story?

Every June, Gay Pride Month is celebrated. Because we are Unitarian Universalists (or like-minded folks), I feel I don’t have to answer the question, “Why Gay Pride Month? Why don’t we have Heterosexual Pride Month too?” But you might be wondering why June is selected for Gay Pride Month?
Forty-six years ago yesterday, on June 27, 1969, police raided a bar in Greenwich Village, New York—the Stonewall Inn. The biggest event in New York City that day was Judy Garland’s funeral, and one cannot help but think that more than a few in the bar that night were still mourning her death. Why? The film, “The Wizard of Oz” resonated for LGBT people; the song, “Over the Rainbow” had become a de facto anthem for the “Movement”, and therefore, Judy Garland was such an icon for gays that the question, “Are you a friend of Dorothy’s?” was a way to quietly determine if someone was gay. It is therefore logical that patrons of the Stonewall Inn that night were still mourning.
On the night of June 27th, the police burst in at the height of the evening’s festivities, and, under the pretense of looking for violations of a “no alcohol policy”, and demanded IDs from everyone in the bar.  Typically, if you didn’t have an ID, no matter how old you were, or if you were dressed as a woman (the Stonewall’s clientele was mostly Drag Queens and their friends), you were arrested—otherwise, you were allowed to leave.  On June 27th, most were allowed to leave, and joined a crowd of approximately 400 gathering outside. 
I’ve read a number of eye-witness accounts, and nobody seems to know what set off the riot.  Could be that, after days of mourning the death of Judy Garland, nerves were raw, and the thought of being arrested was too much.  Could be that a butch lesbian fought back when put into handcuffs.  Could be that, as one drag queen was loaded into the paddy wagon, she kicked an officer and knocked him to the ground.  In any case, the paddy wagon started to rock, and people in the crowd began to shout and throw coins and bottles at the police, who turned around and took cover in the Stonewall.
Outside, according to one eye-witness, the crowd “bellowed in triumph and pent-up rage”.  Windows in the Inn were smashed, fires were set, and anything that could be picked up and thrown was. Demonstrations took place for most of the week, but by the third night, there was talk amongst the demonstrators of actually organizing for Gay Power.  Within weeks, the residents of Greenwich Village began to concentrate their efforts on providing more places (not just bars) where gays and lesbians could be open without being arrested.   The anniversary of Stonewall henceforth was remembered with a parade; on June 28, 1970 organizers marked the first anniversary of the Stonewall riots with an assembly on Christopher Street and the first Gay Pride march in U.S. history, marching the 51 blocks to Central Park:  one could argue that it was the first positive, public stance against the discrimination and prejudice LGBT people had faced for millennia. On June 2, 2000, President Bill Clinton officially proclaimed June to be “Gay & Lesbian Pride Month”.
The gays and lesbians, bisexuals and transgendered who stood up for themselves at Stonewall Inn in 1969 may have thought they were standing alone; it wasn’t really possible to discuss homosexuality very openly back then, so how were they to know who their allies might be?
It didn’t take long for them to discover that the Unitarian Universalist Church stood with them; if you’ve looked at the insert in your Order of Service, you will see that in July 1970, there was a General Assembly General Resolution to end Discrimination against Homosexuals and Bisexuals.

Yes, even back then, our church was standing on the side of love.

There is much I could talk about regarding the LGBT community on the national level, but this morning, I want to talk about what has happened on the local level. And, to further narrow our focus today, I want to talk about things I remember—well, because I can.
In preparing for today, I reached out and visited a number of places. First of all, I recalled a service done by Rev. Libbie Stoddard on the issue of becoming an officially recognized Welcoming Congregation, so I contacted her. If you know Libble, you will not be surprised to learn that within a week, I had a copy of the entire service. The slideshow that was part of our gathering this morning comes from a display at the Pride Center on Main Street in Lafayette.  I will also draw on my own recollections of events in March and April this year—I have video clips from a Community Forum that was held at Faith West on April 5th.
Let’s go back 22 years (I know, I know—some of you were not born yet!). In May 1993, Lafayette City Council passed an amendment to their Human Relations Ordinance, adding protections for sexual  orientation; thus banning discrimination in employment , housing, and public accommodation.  The West Lafayette City Council passed a similar amendment shortly after.  For me, it was hard to imagine that all of this took place 22 years ago, and yet I remember the church service very clearly.  The service took place on January 31, 1993, some months before the Lafayette City Council vote. I should mention that a number of elements in today’s service come directly from that January 1993 service. In her opening, Libbie explains the steps leading up to this service:  In the fall of 1992, Libbie explains, “…after five or six months of discussion and planning, Jean Erb [Jean was the minister of Shalom United Church of Christ] and I co-led an adult education class, using the Unitarian Universalist curriculum, called “The Welcoming Congregation.” The intent of the curriculum is to help people explore their feelings about homosexuality. The hope of the curriculum Is that it will encourage religious congregations to be not only accepting of sexual minorities, but to be welcoming of them…We extended our series of eight class meeting[s] for an additional week in order to attend the public hearing on “gay rights” at the county library.”
Libbie goes on to say, “In addition to what we intended to include in our class learnings, something else happened that was not part of the curriculum, yet affected some of us profoundly. That was the experience of working and learning with people from another religious community, a quite clearly Christian community. We tend, here, to hold a kind of siege mentality, often feeling that no one else can or does share any of our views, or would be willing to discuss the topics we discuss.”
Today, in a reading, Kris shared a poem from Joan L—it was a part of this 1993 church service.  I would like to share another excerpt from that service—this is the part I remember so very clearly, as I was so struck by the words of Joan M (and I do have her permission to share this). Joan M’s segment of the service is titled, “Choosing to Wear the Button”:  “At the end of one of the Welcoming Congregation classes we were each asked to choose a button, expressing a pro-gay or lesbian sentiment, then to wear it one day before class the following week…All “Welcoming Congregation” participants chose buttons…Mine reads:  “Don’t Presume I’m Straight.” …While driving home after the class in which we took the buttons, I experienced my first reaction to wearing the button—“no big deal.” It did not occur to me not to wear the button to my office…..My second reaction occurred over the weekend as I thought about the week ahead. I found myself carefully checking my calendar to choose an appropriate day to wear the button. I did not want to wear it on a day where I sat at my desk and did paperwork. That seemed too safe. On the other hand, as I leafed through the calendar---I decided not to wear the button on the day I was hosting a lunch for undergraduate students from historically black institutions whom we were trying to recruit to graduate programs at Purdue. “how awful,” I thought, “if a student we wanted to attend decided not to because he or she was offended by my button.” ….Like Goldilocks of Three Bears fame, I found myself looking for the day that was, not too safe, but not too risky, “just right”. As I look back over the day I wore the button and, more importantly, the days I chose not to wear the button, I think about the questions that went through my mind, “will this reflect negatively on my office?” “Will this create problems for my
boss?” I then consider the questions homosexual and bisexual men and women ask themselves as they interact with heterosexual society. Wearing a button expressing a pro-gay or lesbian sentiment for one day does not in any way compare to the experience of being homosexual or bisexual in our community. Yet wearing a button for a day gave me a glimmer of understanding about the issues of tolerance and acceptance that members of the gay community face."
Thank you, Joan M, and thank you, Joan L.
That Sunday in 1993, listening to my fellow congregants, I knew I was in the right religious community. It was no surprise then, when members of our congregation and our minister spoke out at various City Council meetings, urging passage of the amendments to the Human Relation Ordinances. On April 29, 1997, our congregation made it official, and this public declaration went out (with rainbow cake to celebrate):  “We, the Unitarian Universalist Church, declare ourselves to be a Welcoming Congregation.  A Welcoming Congregation is a religious community that welcomes and accepts people who are gay, lesbian, transgendered or bisexual; that strives to be a safe and affirming environment for those among us who are gay, lesbian, transgendered or bisexual; that ensures all areas of congregational life are open and inclusive; and, that commits itself to work for the rights and dignity of gay, lesbian, trandsgendered or bisexual people in the larger community.” We, the Unitarian Universalists, chose to stand with our LGBT community members; they were not alone then, and they are not alone now.
We stood again with in 1996, when a conservative faction of the community asked the Lafayette City Council to REPEAL the amendment to their Human Relations Ordinance. We spoke up, we joined the newly-formed Citizens for Civil Rights, and we made a very public statement, in the form of a newspaper ad. It was part of the slideshow at the beginning of the service, but if you missed it, it read:  “PEOPLE OF FAITH SPEAK OUT. As people of different faith traditions, we draw upon shared religious principles and recognize common belief that religion should be a healing and
constructive force in public life. We affirm the dignity and value of all human beings. We challenge the forces of intolerance, coercion and fear, and commit ourselves to helping create a friendly community that honors and supports freedom, equality and respect for all its citizens. We urge the Lafayette City Council to maintain in its entirety the Human Relations Ordinance which reminds us of, and inspires us to live out, the highest ideals of tolerance, peace, and mutual respect. We reject, and call upon the Lafayette City Council to reject the current call for divisiveness and discrimination
against our fellow citizens.”
A friend of mine, Pastor Steve Viars, remembers being a “saddened bystander” in 1996 (as his church and home are outside the city limits):  He states, “The public hearings, letters to the editor, and other public and private discussions were often divisive and harsh.  The effect on our community by people (in my opinion) on both sides was at times hostile and uncivil.”  In 2001, as the Tippecanoe County Commissioners were considering a Human Relations Ordinance, they wisely hoped to avoid re-creating similar divisiveness in the community. As Pastor Viars remembers, “We wanted to try
to bring a level of civility to the conversation.  We came into the public square, at least in our minds, as peacemakers not trouble makers…I began reaching out to people [LGBT Leaders in the community]  We shared several meals and conversations together – my goal was to get to know the activists as individuals and also gain a greater understanding of their overall story and the reasons this issue mattered so much to them.  We also began meeting with certain conservative Christian pastors and leaders – in some cases particularly to attempt to rein in some of the Christians that we believed had behaved badly during the city discussions.  We wanted to suggest that religious liberty also needed to be protected in this conversation.  So my concern was never really that [Sexual Orientation] was being added to the HRO – but that religious freedom for all people also needed to be protected.  Incidentally – I still hold that position today.”
I see looks of disbelief out there! I know we, as UUs, are a very skeptical bunch. Don’t take my word for it. So, here it is, directly from Pastor Viars. [video clip]
Let’s fast-forward a bit. There are so many instances to highlight, so much—good and bad—that has gone on in our local community. But let’s talk a bit about the past couple of years.
In the fall of 2014, Freedom Indiana worked with citizens of our state to lobby the legislature. The goal? To prevent a “Marriage Amendment” from becoming a part of the State Constitution. For me, it was also important to prevent the divisiveness of the 1990’s from occurring in our community again. Our church did not hesitate to open our doors for public meetings, and the number of citizens of all stripes who felt passionate enough to attend rallies, write letters, and make phone calls was truly astounding to me. As Karen and I proudly carried an enormous stack of letters from our community to the Statehouse, I felt so…loved. I felt embraced by so many. One of our local legislators must have felt the weight of our words too, as Rep. Randy Truitt was the one to stand up and propose an amendment to the Marriage Amendment—the passage of his amendment killed the proposed Constitutional Amendment. On June 25, 2014, it all became a moot point when the 7th Circuit Court of Appeals upheld marriage equality in Indiana. And, it really, really became a moot point this past Friday, when the Supreme Court of the United States affirmed marriage equality for ALL
citizens in ALL 50 states…….
This past March, a bill was passed by the Indiana Legislature—the Religious Freedom Restoration Act, also known as RFRA. It passed so quickly and quietly that I admit I did not even know about it until after it had been signed by our governor. The negative reaction to it was swift and passionate and….came from all over the UNITED STATES.
Let me repeat that. The backlash came from all over the United States as people stood against the blatant discrimination of the LGBT community in our state.
At this point, there was…well, confusion. Many religious leaders appreciated the language of the law, as it upheld their right to practice their religion. And, they pointed out, many other states had RFRAs of their own (however, I need to point out that most were passed years ago). Local ministers spoke about the pros and cons of RFRA to their congregations; I attended two church services to hear these thoughts; I went to Faith Church in Lafayette and Congress Street United Methodist Church. (Hey, I’m a good UU—I can hang with anyone in order to hear religious ideas!). I have spoken here before about “pre-judging” people, and many of my own “pre-judgements” were brought to my attention as I walked into each building—but that’s a sermon for another time. After I walked out of Faith Church, I felt deep despair—for our community, and world. The message I heard that day, “Does Jesus Discriminate?” did not jive with the Jesus I knew. I will admit too that I felt betrayed—I had a personal relationship with Pastor Viars and many members of Faith Church, and I knew them to be kind and giving to everyone. At this point, I could have easily decided to say, “Screw it!” and relegate everyone at Faith Church to the “Them” category—you know, the “Thems” that “Us” are opposed to. But I just couldn’t do it. Some talk about a crisis of faith—well, this was sort of like that; my feelings of betrayal went deep. Ultimately, I decided to reach out to Pastor Viars—I met Steve for breakfast in late March. By then, the RFRA “battle lines” had been drawn; incivility in the state of Indiana was at a peak, and I wondered how this breakfast was going to go—would we just shout over one another, never listening? I felt burdened when I walked into the Diner that morning—burdened with my own feelings of betrayal and hurt, and burdened with the thought that if I could not find the words to truly represent the feelings of my LGBT friends, a lot could be lost. We could come to some degree of understanding, or we could walk away to our separate lives, forever being “Us” vs. “Them”.
I talked—a LOT—that morning. Steve listened, questioned, and explained.  I walked away feeling much better; I felt that WE reached UNDERSTANDING. I think that, in the end, most of us just want to be understood, right? I was pleased to hear that Faith West was going to hold a “Community Forum on RFRA” on Sunday, April 5th; I was hoping that the opinions of those against RFRA could be heard; I was really hoping some minds could be changed. I invited Rev. Charlie and some other friends to join me that night. I wish I could play the whole video of that night (if you are interested, I can give you the link), and I’ve shared two clips so far, but here’s one last, important clip.
I have to tell you, I think it was at this point was when one of my friends leaned over to me and whispered, very sincerely, “Who is this guy? Where is Steve Viars?” Some of you may have also asked that question too.  And, I will remind you of the words of Rev. Libbie earlier:  “We tend, here, to hold a kind of siege mentality, often feeling that no one else can or does share any of our views, or would be willing to discuss the topics we discuss.” It would be wise of us to remember her words as we tackle the injustice that still permeates our human existence. We need to remember those words as we deal with the fact that you can still be fired for being LGB or T in Indiana. We need to remember to be open and willing—willing to dwell together in peace and to seek the truth in love. Every advancement in justice for all persons has come slowly. Much conversation needs to take place; communication is the key to understanding. If you read the local paper yesterday, you will know that we need to keep talking, keep having conversations with EVERYONE. I for one, will keep talking to my friend Steve Viars.
The patrons of the Stonewall Inn felt very alone that night in June 1969. Their single act became the catalyst for a movement of justice for all in the United States, with some very unlikely allies.
Allies, standing. Standing on the side of love.

Judging.....

I am sorry. I judged before I listened to the person.
I've laughed, made jokes, been angry, but never listened to Rachel Dolezal talk about why she, a genetic white woman, says she's black.
Today, I listened. You should too--take some time to watch Melissa Harris-Perry interview Ms. Dolezal. It's a great interview. No one is yelling, there is a good, intelligent back-and-forth, and at the end, you might agree with me--Rachel Dolezal is not crazy. Is. NOT. Crazy.
I'm sorry, Rachel. I pre-judged you. And I'm sorry.
Now, I pray everyone leaves you alone.
The focus now, and always should have been, on her biological parents. I mean, What the Fuck??? Why were we not asking ourselves, "What the hell is wrong with these parents? What kind of loving, caring parent would do something this public to their own child?"
If you think your child is mentally ill, you do NOT out them in the national press. Someone--everyone--should have been asking:  What do these parents have to gain from this? 15 minutes of fame? An opportunity to destroy the life their child has made?
If you disagree with me, I would love to hear from you.
But first, watch the interview.
Rachel Dolezal, I'm sorry.

Break Free - Ruby Rose Fascinating But Not Necessarily for Everyone

Will This Never End???

I'm not talking about the rain, although I could--the middle section of the country has kind of been inundated recently.

No, I'm talking about this torrential pouring of GOP presidential candidates--so far, there are ELEVEN viable candidates, with another FOUR viable candidates still "exploring".






Seriously, it takes a mighty special ego to say, "I've got something to offer that NONE of the other 14 candidates for president don't have." Because if you are a white male GOP candidate, you do not have anything special to offer. You all just blend together (unless your name is Bush, but that's a blog for another time): you are pro-gun, anti-woman, anti-poor, anti-already born child, and pro-pro-pro-business and money.
 It's mind-boggling to look at all of them, and wonder why they couldn't admit to themselves that maybe...just maybe....there's someone else that THEY could support?? That could be a better candidate, a better mind, a better president than they could be?? REALLY??
The media are already planning the GOP Presidential Debates, and with 15 viable candidates, it's going to be hard to fit them all on the stage at once--it's going to be worse if others decide to run and demand to be recognized.
So, I have a solution, and Faux News is welcome to use it (for $476,000,000,000,000). I think Ben Carson (African American), Bobby Jindal (Indian American) and Carly Fiorina should automatically have a place on the stage--they all have a unique perspective that, try as they might, the white male candidates do not.




The white, male candidates? They will be a part of a pool--like a Press Pool of sorts. Among themselves, they can choose two representatives for the debate. I don't care how they choose the two representatives--arm wrestling, knife-throwing, spitting contest--they just need to figure it out.
Because aside from Donald's hair, and Jeb's last name, and Christie's size, the rest are talking suits. All saying the same thing: "                     ."

Rant Ahead...No, Really....

You know what I hate? I hate that somewhere in America, some television executive decided to make a family "famous" just because they had over 15 children (19 and counting, to be exact, but you will have to find your own link and photos--I refuse).
I hate that they decided to glorify a man and a woman not for their intellectual gifts (they did not cure anything), their artistic talents, but for their ability to join egg and sperm enough times to add 19 children to the planet.
I hate that Americans watched said program, and the family became even more famous for having way too many children (and don't argue with me on this fact--our world cannot sustain the beings we have here--it's criminal to encourage people to have a "quiverfull"). I'm certain their celebrity for having unprotected sex over and over and over and over and over encouraged far too many others to follow their example, because...well, America made them famous, right?! I hate that Americans don't have the sense to say, "This is offensive." and turn off their damn televisions.
I hate that the overpopulating family has home-schooled every single one of those poor kids (to be clear, I know many intelligent, wonderful people who have home-schooled their children, teaching them accurate information about science, including biology), so they have no chance to learn about "good touch/bad touch" or "Just say 'no'." or anything about sex that would have allowed them to know that what their oldest brother was doing to them was WRONG.
I hate that in all likelihood, the parents were so busy procreating and dealing with numbers 8, 9, 10, and 11 that they didn't notice, nor had time to deal with the fact that their adolescent son had a fondness for younger girls. This kid needed help--real, professional help, and his parents chose the easy way out. They were too busy getting famous for their ability to have sex, and from all accounts, ignored this child. I hate it that I know about this molester because I know about his "famous" family. I hate it that I know he's a molester, and his parents chose to pray about it, instead of getting him some real help.
I hate it that another child molester was "born", and I hate it that he was allowed to destroy the lives of so many young girls. I hate it that his sisters believed they had no voice. I hate it that they were lost in the shuffle of so many kids--too many to allow their parents to have the time to give them the attention they needed. They were silenced by the crowd.
I hate it that I feel some responsibility as an American citizen who watches television--not that show!--and couldn't find a way to convince a million others to say, "This show is offensive. Stop making celebrities of this family."
And finally, I hate that this family--this monster we created--is so famous as to be able to influence politics in this country. I hate it that men, running for the highest office in our land, are standing up for this child molester, and standing by his parents, who are famous. Famous for nothing more than the ability to put a penis in a vagina.
Are you shocked by those last words? Tell me what I got wrong.
I hate it.