There is a regular flow of news stories and blog articles about efforts to repeal DADT as it relates to the U.S. military. For my fellow Canadians who might not follow such reports, DADT stands for “don’t ask, don’t tell”. It refers to a practice in the American armed forces that compels soldiers to keep their same-sex sexual attractions, gay identity, and/or same-sex sexual relationships under wraps if they hope to continue in their military careers. As a pacifist-leaning Canadian who is admittedly ill-informed about U.S military issues, the whole concept of DADT seems counter-intuitive to me. It would seem to me that if you are asking soldiers to entrust their lives to one another, there would be tremendous benefit in fostering an environment of authenticity and integrity. By asking a group of individuals to hide such a significant part of their identity perpetuates a climate of secrecy that, in my mind, erodes corporate integrity. But …. as I said, I really have no experience that gives me any platform on which to speak to U.S military issues.
But I do have extensive experience in the church. And in many ways I observe a similar silent expectation of DADT within the church, that I believe erodes our corporate integrity as the family of God.
In the first place, I see same-gender attracted people bear the incredible burden of exhausting vigilance to ensure that no “clue” slips that might reveal the reality of their sexuality. I see how this has shipwrecked lives due to the copious personal, emotional and spiritual energy that must be spent on hiding. I’ve seen people fracture under the pressure and walk away from not only the church but from God. I’ve seen mixed orientation marriages shatter after years of secrecy finally break and the truth emerges with such pent-up intensity that navigating the challenges of remaining in the marriage seems inconceivable. I’ve sat with people as they have wept over lost years – years of not being able to fully be themselves, to be known for who they truly were. I’ve sat with people who identify as ex-gay but stagger in the knowledge that they continue to wrestle with same-gender attraction while everyone assumes they are healed. I’ve ached to hear the incredible isolation that DADT causes real people with real lives.
But this “don’t ask don’t tell” mentality while most significantly impacting gay people in the church, also affects more than just those who are outside the heterosexual mainstream. I’ve had more conversations than I can count with Christians who find themselves less clear, more uncertain, living with the reality of ambiguity on this issue of homosexuality. I hear, as they quietly confide in me, a kaleidoscope of emotions. Fear of believing the wrong thing. Anxiety as they confront and critique long-held assumptions. Concern to not hurt or betray the church they love. Exhaustion at the thought of trying to explain to their fellow church members, who are so very certain and so very clear, how and why they are at the place they are. Frustration at the lack of safe space for them to articulate their thoughts and questions around these realities. Resignation in their assessment that it is simply too costly to rock the boat given the reality that it will likely bring limited change to mindsets anyway.
All of these emotions describe an environment that is hindered in being robustly authentic or inviting courageous exploration of the Biblical text, the Holy Spirit’s leading, and shared discernment. They describe an environment in which control wins out over honest wrestling.
DADT encourages the formation of secret clubs within a given fellowship. Lines get drawn between those who are “open-minded” and those who are not. Knowing looks when certain statements are made perpetuate invisible divides. Assumptions and judgments flourish in this kind of environment. Perceived agendas aren’t actually talked about or confronted. People simply keep their distance from one another. Relationships become more superficial or overtly strained. Experience of community is compromised.
Back in the day, we used to be able to count on a pretty monolithic perspective on particular issues within a given congregation. Increasingly, in our intercultural, intergenerational, post-denominational, post-Christian context we encounter complex layers of diversity within our local fellowships. While this ushers in a messy, uncomfortable and sometimes painful exercise in learning how to love, serve, and honour one another, I believe this presents an exciting opportunity for growth and maturity. I believe such diversity is both God’s heart and his way of shaping, refining and transforming us into the character of Christ. Invitational. Hospitable. Not threatened. Not easily offended. Willing to be misunderstood. Breaking barriers. Standing for justice. Reaching the marginalized. Refusing to play favorites. Extending forgiveness. Pursuing reconciliation. Embodying freedom.
We ought not to run from such diversity, ought not to try to control it or coerce it into uniformity. We ought to live in the midst of it, live in the reality of the tensions it creates, wrestle with the paradoxes that arise. We ought to face the challenge of mastering our own selfish, fearful, prideful, easily threatened hearts.
But DADT gives us the easy way out. We don’t have to face the reality of our diversity. We don’t have to wrestle through the hard questions. We don’t have to examine and re-examine not only what we believe but why we believe it and how it is that we hold what we believe when we encounter those who believe in a different way. DADT is a false freedom from conflict. Behind the mask of the peace it proffers lies a leprosy that eats away at authentic community. It keeps us superficial, secretly divided, with a false sense of unity. And it has the very real potential to destroy individual lives.
It’s time to repeal “don’t ask, don’t tell” ….. in the church.
-WG
Wendy,
This is brilliant stuff. I’ve been following the DADT debate but I’ve never thought about how the same thing plays out in churches. I really appreciate the way you’ve spelled that out here. I think this is a helpful analogy for talking about the situation in churches, even though it might be more widely known in the US than in Canada.
The question that’s coming to mind for me is… if we’re moving from “DADT” to “Ask, tell” (or at least toward an authentic environment), how do we create safe space in our church communities for the asking and the telling, in terms of our experience of our sexuality and our faith-based understanding of homosexuality in particular? Most of us don’t naturally bring up these things in everyday conversation. Heterosexuals don’t often bring up their own sexuality, which puts the already-marginalized gay Christians in an even more vulnerable position when they bring it up. But maybe the vulnerable position is not necessarily to be avoided… I don’t know… I suppose this kind of “safe space” is one of the things New Direction is trying to foster. Kudos!
Also, I love this list:
“Invitational. Hospitable. Not threatened. Not easily offended. Willing to be misunderstood. Breaking barriers. Standing for justice. Reaching the marginalized. Refusing to play favorites. Extending forgiveness. Pursuing reconciliation. Embodying freedom.”
Amen, sister.
ah Beth you raise an important point …. if i’m suggesting repealing DADT then what is the alternative? i don’t think my alternative would be “ask, tell” for precisely some of the reasons you’ve suggested …. it simply isn’t safe nor appropriate to go around asking people about their sexuality. i’ve had far too many people jump to too many conclusions relying on their over-inflated sense of mastery in their gay-dar …. including many people who assumed i was gay simply because of my work with n.d. replacing dadt with “confront, find out, and publicize” would be an obvious disaster.
i think the alternative is all about creating environments of safe, spacious hospitality in which an individual doesn’t feel forced to hide facets of themselves that they would prefer to be able to be honest about. this of course can apply to more than one’s personal experience of sexuality. it also applies to our thoughts, our questions, the ways we find ourselves divergent from the majority …. is it safe to share those things or do we feel the need to keep those things under wraps to avoid rejection, judgment etc.? to me repealing dadt in the church is about removing the externally imposed need for secrecy.
Hi,
This is the same “anonymous” that replied to your previous post. My name is Brian.
Wow. Thank you for really **getting** this. But I think you can take it another step.
For me, coming out was a dual transition. It was a change in the way I understood the reality of my sexuality AND it was also a dramatic shift in the way I was understanding spiritual realities.
Yes the anti-gay reaction was hard, yet equally as hard was the negative response I repeatedly encountered whenever I questioned the basic tenets of the Christian faith I had (up till then) held my entire life: is there really a God? how do we truly interpret the Scripture? what if it was never meant to be understood as fact, only metaphor? why are there no scientifically verified miracles? why must there be a heaven and hell – doesn’t that reduce God to nothing more than the ultimate cosmic bully (believe or die)?
The answers I received to those questions were even more alienating than the “God could make you straight if you had enough faith” bs.
They included comments like…
“well I hope Jesus doesn’t come back”
or
“keep asking your questions” (but the implication was that if I settled for any answer other than the accepted doctrine my afterlife would be uncomfortably warm)
or
accusations that I was childishly acting out because I wanted something I couldn’t have (as if gay identity is entirely predicated on the desire for gay sex)
or
“you think too much” – as if finding flaws in the literal interpretation of doctrine was an unforgivable sin.
I learned that not only was it unacceptable to admit to being gay, it was equally unacceptable to disbelieve – or to question the veracity of what were commonly held as truths.
What I found puzzling – and deeply hurtful – was that I never became a different person. I always had the same orientation, the same mind, the same personality, the same compassion, the same drive to become a better person, the same need for family…
…but having the “wrong” set of ideas meant that I was no longer part of the family. DADT (as far as my experiences with church go) applies to doubt as much as it does to orientation.
I don’t miss my former faith. But I do miss the social institution of a faith community. These people taught me to believe in unconditional love, taught me to look beyond self-gratification, that self-actualization came from directing your gifts toward benefiting humankind…
…yet having the wrong set of ideas meant I was going to hell and had no place among people who I thought loved me unconditionally.
I think most Christian denominations look upon the content of an individual’s belief as the requirement for membership, and devalue the integrity of the individual’s personal journey. Maybe the Unitarians come closer to honoring that.
Perhaps it’s a bit paradoxical for me to say this because I am an atheist (and prone now to say things like “spirituality is over-rated;” but that’s another conversation!) – the person I am now is every bit as much a product of the Church as is the most devout believer. When will Christianity EVER embrace a mindset like mine, which is to me very much the legacy of Christianity?
Hi Brian,
It is interesting …. I just wrote another post last night (which I’ll post in a few minutes) that connects with some of what you’ve raised. I’ll look forward to hearing your thoughts on it 🙂
I do think, actually, that there are some followers of Jesus who are able to engage post-Christian people with mutual respect and a teachable heart to hear about the post-Christian journey. There are some who are able to, for the most part, lay down the “I’ve got to get you saved” agenda (let’s face it, none of us can really say completely that we have no agenda). For me, that comes with a deeper trust that if God is who he says he is, then I don’t have to do his work for him – I can be free to love, enjoy and build authentic relationship with my fellow human beings where they’re at. In my earlier years, I would have been much more anxious and urgent about trying to convince a post-Christian person to re-embrace Jesus. But over the years, I’ve come to understand how much of that was driven by my own anxiety – and as I confronted that and tried to move from a place of fear to a place of love – it freed me to simply be present in people’s lives. While some might assume a luke-warmness in my faith because of this posture – I know that it represents a deeper faith that I don’t have to be anyone’s messiah – God is able to draw people to himself in the unique way and timing for each person.
For some people, that journey may seem to be very far from God – but I know that none of us sees the whole, complete picture of a person’s life. What may seem to us to be someone walking away from God may in fact be the round-about journey that leads them back. I hope that doesn’t sound patronizing to you – because that is not my intention at all. In the glimpse I have of your journey, I understand that your atheism would put you in a different paradigm altogether.
What is interesting to me, is the common ground that can still be found in extending unconditional love, extending oneself beyond self-gratification, and experiencing a deeper and fuller sense of our humanity through offering our gifts for the common good and benefit of our neighbours.
I look forward to continuing the conversation.
Heterosexuals don’t often bring up their own sexuality, which puts the already-marginalized gay Christians in an even more vulnerable position when they bring it up.
Beth, I’m going to respectfully disagree with this statement. One of the big sticking points for gay people is that straight people tend to bring up their sexuality in little ways all the time and don’t even think about it. They put pictures of their spouse and children on their desks at work. They hold hands in public (and I’m willing to bet that there are couples who hold hands during and after services in your church). They mention the date they went on last Friday. They turn red when the someone they have a crush on is mentioned in conversation. Older woman constantly ask the youth, “So, do you have a boyfriend/girlfriend?”
All of these little actions say a lot about the sexuality of the people involved. It’s just that everyone is so used to such innocuous statements that no one thinks twice about them. But if I were to mention the date I went on with Jack (to pick a random name) last Friday, it would be a much bigger shock to those same people.
An interesting exercise to do sometime is to spend a day and automatically assume that everyone you meet is gay until they say or do something that tips you off to the contrary. I suspect you’d find that it doesn’t take long for you to discover your “assumption” is wrong for most people you meet.
Jarred, you’re absolutely right. I agree that it is “safe” and even “expected” for straight people to drop hints and openly talk about their relationships or potential relationships with the opposite sex, while this is usually not the case for gay people, at least in most churches. For gay people, it’s DADT, but straight people can ask and tell about their sexuality all the time through their conversations and hints.
This is part of the problem I’m referring to… because straight people drop these hints, they don’t have to come out and say, “Hey everyone at church, I’m straight” (making room for others to say, “Oh really? I’m gay.”) But since gay people don’t often feel safe dropping similar hints, people in the DADT church either wonder about them or make assumptions about them, or they have to wait for them to say “I’m gay,” which can be a vulnerable thing to have to bring up.
Thanks for bringing some nuance to my statement, Jarred.
Hi Wendy,
“and as I confronted that and tried to move from a place of fear to a place of love – it freed me to simply be present in people’s lives.”
I’d have a whole lot less residual anger in my life if this had been more typical of the mindset I encountered when I came out. Typically the “come back to Jesus” message was used to actively push me away. When I heard that message it was a clear signal that nothing I said was going to be heard or valued. It would have been more honest and direct if they’d just said “go to hell” and left it at that.
You wrote: “What may seem to us to be someone walking away from God may in fact be the round-about journey that leads them back. I hope that doesn’t sound patronizing to you – because that is not my intention at all.”
I don’t perceive it as patronizing unless someone is interpreting my experience for me, and has done so without my asking for their opinion. For the same reason I tell my born-again family members that if they feel the need to pray for me, by all means do so, just please don’t tell me about it. That’s when it becomes patronizing.
Which is why I liked your first quote I pasted here about presence. Presence speaks volumes to me, and conveys more love than the dogma/doctrine. Presence is real and it is immediate. Presence is something I can understand. Presence is something that feels like it is open to my being present with you (what the evangelical agenda totally shuts down). Presence allows for a two-way communication and does not leave me feeling like I’ve been condescended to. Presence allows for a real relationship to grow. Presence allows allows my spiritual side to be its normal, complex, touchy, weird, intuitive, human self without feeling the need for defensiveness. Presence…
… I like that word.