Genesis 18:1-15
“Rolling Pride Parade.” The email caught my eye. The 50th Anniversary Boston Pride Parade had been cancelled due to COVID-19. A group of parents of Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Transgender youth in our area felt strongly that their kids needed and deserved a celebration. They connected with Out Metrowest, an organization our church supports, which offers advocacy and community for LGBTQ+ youth. Together, they dreamed up a Rolling Pride Parade–a caravan of rainbow-decorated cars to drive through the streets of Framingham. It was scheduled for yesterday morning.
I signed Fran and me up. It was perfect: local, safe, sponsored by a group that makes a huge difference in the lives of young people. We weren’t the only ones to respond with enthusiasm; registration was closed at sixty vehicles.
This past Tuesday, I received an email letter from Out Metrowest, announcing that the parade was canceled. Instead, they wrote, “we ask you to join us in a different expression of solidarity.”
The letter acknowledged the history of Pride, which originated in the aftermath of the Stonewall Uprising in 1969. The uprising–sometimes labeled a riot–was in response to a long history of oppression, including police raids on bars. Many leaders of the uprising were transgender people of color, who had experienced the worst of the mistreatment. The letter celebrated the progress that has been made since Stonewall and also lifted up ways LGBTQ people still live in danger, especially transgender people of color. It honored the leadership of Black Lives Matter which, from the beginning, has fought for justice for the most marginalized members of the LGBTQ+ community.
“Movements for justice are intertwined,” the letter continued. “Racial justice is an LGBTQ+ issue. It’s in this spirit that we are asking you to join us in redirecting our visibility efforts this weekend at alternative events.” The letter encouraged participation in a rally on the Framingham Green, led by Framingham High School student leaders from the Black Student Union and the Drama Company. It also said that representatives from OUT Metrowest would be at a Trans Resistance Protest Vigil in Boston at the same time–an especially important witness given Friday’s announcement rolling back federal anti-discrimination protection for transgender people.
“There is no perfect way to come together as a community,” the letter concluded. “We know that joy and celebration are critical to sustaining our spirits and that many of us have been looking forward to a car parade….Pride and LGBTQ+ visibility are important for all of us. We honor that and, at this moment, we choose to invest our care and energy into the part of our community that is most acutely hurting. We believe in showing up for each other, and we hope you will join us.”
I was moved by the letter. It felt right to me–a recognition that we are all connected, an invitation to show up for our African-American siblings, an acknowledgement of this particular moment we are in–with so much pain and the opportunity to make lasting change.
I told Fran that the parade had been canceled. She was sad and confused. She questioned why we had to choose: couldn’t there be a Pride parade in the morning and a Black Lives Matter rally in the afternoon? She made a good point.
Intrigued to learn more, I reach out to the Executive Director of OUT Metrowest, Whitney Retallic. She confirmed what a difficult decision it was. “We will make mistakes,” she said, acknowledging that she didn’t know if they had made the right choice–or if there is a right choice. Some of the youth were disappointed. “We are trying to hold space for all the emotions,” she said. “We need joy to sustain us, and right now we need to stand in solidarity.”
Fran and Whitney remind me that there is no one way to be an advocate for justice, no one way to affirm the dignity and worth of all God’s beloved.
The letter drew me in because it resonated with my thinking about how we celebrate Open and Affirming in this moment. This year is our 20th anniversary of Edwards Church becoming Open and Affirming. For those of us whose history is with Grace Church, it is more like 35 years. There is a lot to celebrate–the courage of those early years, the warmth and depth of our welcome, the ways we have been changed as we have come to value each other for all of who we are.
Back in January, Church Council decided we would do a big celebration of ONA this year. I hope we can do that sometime in person; it might be for our 21st anniversary. In the meantime, today we lift up our commitment to extravagant welcome–celebrating what ONA has meant to us, reflecting on what it means right now. In our ONA statement, we say “We commit ourselves to work diligently to help end oppression and discrimination.” How do we live that out in this time?
Today’s Hebrew Bible reading is one of the biblical starting points for Open and Affirming. Abraham and Sarah see strangers coming. Without knowing who they are or why they have come, Abraham and Sarah welcome them and prepare a feast. During that meal, they realize the strangers are God, come to bring good news that will transform their lives.
We are called to open our doors and our hearts, to welcome the person whose life experience is different from our own, the person we may have been taught to fear. When we do, we will awaken to the presence of God–in them and in the relationships we form. We will be blessed with gifts we never imagined, and we will all be changed.
What a powerful starting point for our Open and Affirming faith! And it is only a starting point. Open and Affirming means more than inviting people in.
This week I happened upon a blogpost called “Hold this Space,” by Cheryl Lawrie from the Uniting Church in Australia. She calls attention to the tables where Jesus sat. We tend to focus on the table where Jesus shared his last supper, and we rightly proclaim that everyone is welcome at Christ’s table. That’s really the only table Jesus might have claimed as his own, though. The rest of the time he sat at other people’s tables, sharing in their meals, receiving their hospitality, honoring their belovedness.
To be Open and Affirming is to have open doors. Jesus’ ministry reminds us that those doors are open both to welcome our neighbors in and also to lead us out.
We are acutely aware that our congregation does not reflect the racial and ethnic diversity of Framingham; we are part of what is sometimes called “the most segregated hour of the week”–Sundays at 11 am. We have agonized about this reality, for it does not reflect our vision of the kin-dom of God. It does reflect a broken society, a long history of racism and distrust that is bigger than we are. As an Open and Affirming Congregation, we are challenged always to ask how we can widen our welcome, creating a community where people of all races, backgrounds, ages,sexual orientations and gender identities feel welcomed, affirmed and loved.
We must simultaneously ask a broader question: how can we contribute to a larger movement to usher in that kin-dom of God? What does it mean to be part of healing our broken society, dismantling racism and building the trust that is the bedrock of community?
It means opening our doors wide, not only to invite others in but also to go out. It means following Jesus’ lead and sitting at other people’s tables, accepting their hospitality, learning from them. It means leaving our own familiar places to join with others on their familiar ground. Right now, it means showing up for our African-American neighbors.
Today, as we celebrate our commitment to wide open doors, the doors of our sanctuary are, by necessity, shut tight. As we talk about who eats at whose table, we can’t actually go eat at anyone else’s home. In this time when it is so important that we show up for our neighbors, especially our neighbors of color, so many of the ways we know how to do that are not possible. We are challenged to be even more creative as we seek to put these core principles of our faith into practice.
What does it mean to go out our metaphorical doors, to leave our metaphorical table to sit at someone else’s? How do we show up for our African-American siblings? By engaging in community conversations via Zoom or newspaper or, with great care, social media–zooming in to a meeting of the Framingham Police Advisory Commission or the Human Relations Committee. By holding signs in a socially-distanced, masked rally. By reaching out to our sister churches and asking if we can visit their zoom services. By reading books and watching movies that challenge our familiar perception of history and bring us face to face with our complicity. By writing letters to the editor so our neighbors know they are not alone, and letters to our elected officials so they know we are paying attention. By listening–a lot.
Twenty years ago our congregation made a courageous statement. We voted to be Open and Affirming, to commit to the hard and joyous work of extending an extravagant welcome to all people, with a special acknowledgement that LGBTQ folks have too often been judged and excluded in churches. Today, as we celebrate that courageous vote, let us pray for courage to live it out in new ways. May we open the doors of our hearts wide so we can go out. May we show up for our neighbors. May we show up for racial justice. May we be part of the long, hard, sacred and joyous journey that is the kin-dom of God. Amen.