Committee of the Whole

This morning was exciting and nerve-wracking for me. Having drawn lottery number 17 for the Committee of the Whole in yesterday's drawing, I knew I had a good chance to speak. I spent an hour and a half with Bungee Bynum this morning writing what I might say if I had the chance to speak. We sat in Starbuck's typing, erasing, typing, arguing, picking, prodding, and trying to construct a concise statement. We thought I would have three minutes to speak, and constructed a comfortable 2:45 piece. We walked over to the House of Deputies to prepare for the Legislative Session, and I felt good.

After a half hour of necessary business and passing of items on the Consent Calendar (mostly matters of procedure; no debate allowed), the Committee of the Whole began. The lowest lottery numbers that had been picked by deputies were projected on a screen, and lo and behold! - #17 was the second lowest odd number, after #15. I proceeded to the microphone and lined up with other deputies holding odd numbers. The microphone opposite us was for deputies holding even numbers.

I stood awaiting my companion deputy holding the elusive #15, and he/she never showed. All of a sudden, I would be the first person to speak at the "odd" microphone, and the second to speak. I followed Rev. Brian Cole from the Diocese of Western North Carolina - the same gentleman I met under rather funny circumstances at Jean Farris Winery in Lexington.

Below is the text of what I said. To my dismay, I had to make huge cuts at the last minute, because in reality I did not have three minutes to speak, but only two.

The most vital moments in my faith journey have taken place outside the church. My freshman year I spent studying Jewish-Christian relations, and I concluded my freshman year in the gas chamber of the Madajnek death camp outside Lublin, Poland. I returned home unable to speak of my experience because I knew it wouldn’t be well received. The church doesn’t talk about its darker side. I lost faith in the efficacy of the Good News and believed the Good News was a farce, in the face of all of our Bad News. I wanted no part of a church that was silent on the consequences of its own discrimination.

We must face our Bad News if our Good News is to mean anything at all. Our Bad News is that discrimination is still a reality, that we have been far too focused on ourselves, and have neglected our poor, destitute, and dying. Our Bad News is that we have too long DENIED all the sacraments to all of God’s children. Every moment we spend deliberating the full inclusion of God’s children, we neglect God’s greater call to mission.

Many of us understand the pain of our LGBT brothers and sisters because we know them, we love them, and they are REAL to us. We cannot fathom the pain of our brothers and sisters dying of AIDS in Africa, the political dissidents bloodied in their fights for democracy. We don’t understand the pain of the homeless and mentally ill as we sit debating full inclusion. God has already fully included all of his children. How long will it take humans to catch up?

We need to move on – yes. Moving on requires that we empathize with the pain of exclusion felt by our LGBT family. Moving on, however, also requires that we remember that the least of these are not here to speak for themselves. But I am here. We are here. We must speak for them and move beyond ourselves.