More Light Presbyterians Dinner

General Assembly
Rev. Rebecca Voelkel
July 3, 2010

Thank Michael and MLP, Lisa and TAMFS, Pam and Covenant Network and
Presbyterian Voices for Justice. I also want to thank Cindi Love and Soulforce
for their partnership this week and every day.

Bring greetings from Jewish Movement Building Meeting and MCC General
Conference, all the more than 100 pro-LGBT religious denominations and
organizations who stand with you as you gather today.

I also bring greetings from the National Gay and Lesbian Task Force, for
whom I work and the Religion and Faith Programs of the Human Rights
Campaign, the Gay and Lesbian Action Against Defamation and the National
Black Justice Coalition—all of whom are close partners with you in all that
you do.

I take the time to name all of these organizations to start in the context of a
wide and deep and rich movement for LGBTQQIA justice that surrounds and
holds you as you are about the work of General Assembly.

Will you pray with me?

Most gracious and powerful, loving and nudging God, we give you great
thanks on this evening, that you have brought us together to celebrate and
remember, to lament and take action. I would ask that you might touch my
mouth and all of our hearts, that what we do and say and dream here might
be in furtherance of your work. Amen.

I spent much of my growing up years with my Grammie. Grammie was my

mom’s mom, she was born in Inverness, Scotland. And, she was a staunch,
Scottish Presbyterian. One of my favorite things about time with Grammie
was that she told me countless stories about her life and the lives of many of
my ancestors. One of her recurring ones happened when she was a
teenager.

Grammie was the oldest of five girls. Her father had died when she was
fourteen and she became the sole economic breadwinner for her family. She
had been valedictorian of her sixth grade class but had had to stop going to
school because everything past sixth grade required payment at that time in
Scotland. Instead of continuing her studies, she became a domestic servant.

One day, a young girl, about the same age or a bit older than Grammie
called her into the bathroom where she sat on the toilet and ordered my
Grammie to wipe her bottom. Without hesitating, Grammie told her to wipe
her own (*&*). And without hesitating, the girl’s mother fired her.

Grammie always told the story with great relish and a huge smile on her
face. She was very clear that she would not stand to be treated without
dignity. But it wasn’t long after that that she was forced to immigrate to this
country in order to provide for her family…

Grammie also told me many times about my Grandfather Unwin. He was the
fifth of eleven children born in Twecher, Scotland. He started working in the
coal mines when he was ten. At fourteen, he was buried alive in a terrible
accident. After a frantic search, he was one of three out of twenty-two
miners to be rescued; but not without a literal scar down the length of his
back and a psychological scar to go with it. He, too, left Scotland to come to
this country. And while my Grammie made several trips back to Scotland,
my grandfather never set foot again in his home country. His anger at the
economic circumstances that degraded him and so many like him never
waned.

Grammie would often tell me these stories as we stood with the Keenagers
from her church, taking part in a rally and protest against some grocer who
was exploiting their primarily elderly clientele or as she described why it was
that we weren’t eating any grapes because the United Farm Workers had
asked us to stand with them and boycott grapes. She would end the stories
with something like, Rebecca, you are the granddaughter of John
Leischmann Unwin and Mary Doyle MacKenzie Unwin. Whatever you do,
remember that all people deserve dignity and respect—no matter what.
Everyone is a child of God and it is our job to make sure we build a world
where that is made manifest.

So I stand with you today, Rebecca Mary MacKenzie Voelkel. Although I have
fallen away from being Presbyterian—my mother became a UCCer, I’m sorry!
I want to share with you, in the spirit of my grandparents, some of the
lessons I’ve learned about this Pro-LGBT Religious Movement we share. And
I hope to do it in a way that will support your critical work here at GA. So, a
few insights:

1. I started by bringing greetings from the over 100 pro-LGBT religious

denominations and organizations around the country. The leaders of
many of these organizations gather regularly for learning and
strategizing about how we can be the most effective and organized
movement for justice. First of all, I want you to know this. Michael
Adee, Lisa Llarges, Pam Byers and others gather with Christian and
multi-faith colleagues in order to strengthen the larger movement and
the work that happens within the Presbyterian Church.
 Together, we’ve been learning how we can go about pro-actively
building a more robust, healthy and wise movement for justice. Let me
share with you a big picture that has been guiding much of our shared
work.

Any movement needs three interdependent, mutually supporting kinds

of power. The Grassroots Policy Project calls them the “3 Faces of
Power.”

The first face of power is the ability to mobilize large numbers of

people, to wage a
campaign or activate people for collective action.

The second face of power is the building and strengthening of an

infrastructure. This is made up of strong organizations, networks,
coalitions, different cultural workers—like artists, theologians,
musicians.

And the third face of power necessary for a successful movement is

the creation and dissemination of a shared worldview or vision of
where we’re going and how we will know we have gotten there.

I want to say more about each “Face of Power” in order to make it

relevant to GA and the work of MLP and its partners.

2. Let’s look at the creation and dissemination of a world view of our pro-
LGBT religious movement.

Every day, I read the newspaper and I’m almost numbed by the scale
of violence in our world.
a. A suicide bomber who was nineteen and without hope, kills
himself and thirty others—nine of them children—in an Iraqi
market, seeking some kind of meaning, some kind of honor.
b. A young man, depressed, outcast, derided, walks into a school in
Red Lake, Minnesota and kills a dozen people.
c. A young woman in Sudan, walking to get the water her family
cannot live without, is raped. Her story is repeated so many
times as to become unimaginable.
d. A young transwoman in Detroit or New Orleans or Chicago or
Minneapolis whose identity we don’t know for days, is killed as
she seeks the only work she can find.

I could literally go on and on. The stories are a tsunami of pain

begetting pain; despair birthing despair; and hatred giving license to
hatred.
 How desperately, then, does our world, our Church, our communities,
need a movement that dares to speak the foolishness of love and
intimacy and authenticity? How desperately does our world need a
group of people whose gathering principle and mission is to make
space for two people, or a group of chosen family, or a church, to say
loudly and proudly that ours is a ministry of love?

The foolishness of the cross was none other than this—to look at the
world’s systems of power and privilege and oppression and claim that
vulnerable, unarmed love would yet conquer.

So, as you speak in your legislative sessions and briefings about things
like marriage equality, I offer up this image of the foolishness of the
cross. Marriage equality is simply one concrete manifestation of
justice that allows two people to claim their love and share it with their
families and community. Take the opportunity as you talk about
marriage equality to disseminate a view of a world in which this kind of
passionate, committed, extravagantly shared LOVE is what is really
real.

A second example of dissemination of a view of the world as it could

and should be:

In Jewish tradition, there is a notion that at some point in the history of

the world, God’s body and the entire world were shattered. Our job is
to repair the world. It is called Tikkun Olam, repair of the world. In
order to be about the repair of the world, each of us is needed. The
calls that God has placed on each of our hearts is there for a reason—
Tikkun Olam.

But, when we are fighting for our very survival—dying because of lack
of food, or denied healthcare—or if we are blocked from exercising our
vocation—the entire world loses. One less piece of God is repaired,
one less piece of wholeness is restored.

In the coming days, as you talk about ordination equality, I invite you
to talk about it in the context of Tikkun Olam, repairing the world, and
the necessity of every one of us to do what God has called each of us
to do.

3. Now I want to address the importance of building and sustaining an

infrastructure, a network of relationships, coalitions, cohorts, fellow
dreamers and trouble-makers. For a successful movement, this
particular manifestation of power is critical. We have to have the
capacity to do things. We have to have organizations and relationships
 and shared strategies. There are two concrete examples I want to lift
up for GA.

In this Presbyterian movement and for the larger movement, it is

critical that you all continue to do the training and collaboration
necessary to continue to increase the numbers of More Light
congregations. Each More Light process is an opportunity for
someone’s heart and mind to be changed. And every More Light
congregation adds to the infrastructure of our movement.

I know this sounds really wonky, but the importance of this second face
of power cannot be overstated. As Paul Wellstone, that wonderful
senator of blessed memory who served Minnesota and was a practicing
Jew always said, “if you want to help people, organize.” We need our
day-in and day-out work of building a movement, person by person
and congregation by congregation. And More Light’s work within the
Presbyterian Church can never be overstated.

But the second thing to be said in this second face of power is that I
am thrilled that More Light and That All May Freely Serve and
Covenant Network and Presbyterian Voices for Justice are sharing work
here at GA, have worked together on 08-B work in the past and,
hopefully will be working together in the future. Each organization is
critical to the work and finding a way to work collaboratively is key.
And your ability to work with the larger ecumenical and multifaith
movement are blessings.

(Let me just add parenthetically a comment about Michael Adee. Many

of you know this, but this second face of power in our pro-LGBT
religious movement would be significantly weaker were it not for him.
Michael has been a laughing, driving, faithful force from the beginning
of the work that has become the Institute for Welcoming Resources. I
would most likely not be here today in this capacity were it not for
Michael. Thank you, my friend!)

4. And then there’s the ability to mobilize folks. This can be in a single
congregation during a More Light process, or this can be working in
187 Presbyteries in order to ratify ordination equality or it can be the
plan and strategy and work at General Assembly.

Often we hear campaigns and we think only of secular political

campaigns, but the ability to inspire folks to collective action is what
the Jesus movement was and is about and it is about what the pro-
LGBT justice movement is, too.
 As I said, all three of these faces of power relate to each other. Every
campaign should be an opportunity to say again and again the world
you are seeking to create. And campaigns, win or lose, should be an
opportunity for us to build stronger and better organizations and
relationships.

5. Besides the importance of the “3 Faces of Power” to our individual and

collective efforts, we’ve been strategizing and learning about one other
issue. In order to tell you about that, I need to tell you one more set of
stories. Are you still with me?

Do you remember that show from the 1970’s called “Little House on
the Prairie?” It was set here in Minnesota and South Dakota and
chronicled the life of a young woman, Laura Ingalls Wilder who was
played by Melissa Gilbert.

Well, one of the early telltale signs of my orientation was a huge crush
on Laura Ingalls Wilder. (I watched faithfully every week to see my
shero tackle yet another daunting task of life on the prairie.)

In 1983, Melissa Gilbert starred in a made-for-TV movie entitled

“Choices of the Heart.” “Choices of the Heart” told the story of Jean
Donovan, one of the four US Churchwomen who was raped and
murdered in El Salvador in 19801 by US-backed Salvadoran death
squads. That movie changed the course of my life.

All the admiration and love I felt for Melissa Gilbert as Laura Ingalls
Wilder, I transferred to Jean Donovan. And it led me to read every
book I could find on her-- biographies, books on Archbishop Oscar
Romero—whose assassination nine months before Jean’s had greatly
impacted her ministry, and liberation theology from the Latin American
context.

Jean’s life story and the subsequent consciousness I gained from the
passion I felt for her, led me to many things, including a trip as part of
the accompaniment movement in El Salvador. My journey was to a
village called Santa Marta.

Santa Marta had been one of those hit by the US-financed and
supported Operation Phoenix whose motto was “the guerillas are like
the fish and the people are like the sea. If you want to find the fish,
just dry up the sea.” In the early 1980’s, Santa Marta had been a
village of about 4000. Operation Phoenix killed about 3000 of these
folks and the remaining 1000 fled into Honduras and lived there, in a
1
For more information on Jean Donovan, Ita Ford, Doroty Kazel and Maura Clark, visit
http://www.justpeace.org/advent2000.htm
 refugee camp, for four years. In October of 1987, the survivors took
diapers, towels and anything else that was white and could be held up
as a flag of peace and walked back into El Salvador to the place that
had been their village. There they were joined by North Americans
whose presence was meant to keep the Salvadoran army from killing
the villagers because the army didn’t want the US population to be
made aware of what was happening in El Salvador. (They’d learned
their lesson in 1980 when Jean Donovan and her three colleagues were
killed. The US had cut off aid for a few months.)

I was part of the delegation that spent a week in Santa Marta over
Christmas, 1987.
During that trip, I asked one of the women how it was that she was
able to come back to El Salvador and protest the government and not
be terrified. In response, she said to me. “I have lost five of my
children to this civil war. One of them, my oldest son, I witnessed
being tortured to death.

“I have been able to survive because I know that in Jesus Christ, God
knows in His body what it means to be tortured to death. So my son
did not die alone, but being held in God’s arms. And in the
resurrection, God has said, once and for all, that life and love are
stronger than death. So, it doesn’t matter what they try to do to me.
Even if they kill me, I know that God will resurrect me. And that makes
me powerful.”

Now, I am a double—PK (both of my folks are pastors), and I have

heard a lot of sermons over the course of my life. Many of them have
been brilliant. But no one has spoken more powerfully about the
meaning of what God has done in Jesus Christ than that fearless,
powerful Salvadoran woman. And to her, I owe the debt of my faith.

Her words taught me that faith is not something that is practiced once
or twice a week as an optional activity, but is, instead, literally
necessary for survival. Furthermore, faith is that which compels us to
act to make the world more like God would have it to be: just and
abundant and joyous.

This experience of having a crush on Melissa Gilbert which led to a

crush on Jean Donovan, which led to the birth of my adult faith has
made me understand that, in my own life at least, my passions have
an expansive quality to them. That is to say, that my love of another
person is connected to my love of their life circumstances and that
these are connected to my deep desire to make this kind of love and
justice in the world. For me, desire and passion are deeply personal,
but they have led me, over and over again, to desire and passion and
love and justice out in the world.

I share this with you because the final piece I want to leave with you is
the reality that our movement for LGBT justice isn’t only about LGBT
people. Our movement, whose roots are in the foolishness of the cross
and the doing of Tikkun Olam, calls us, cajoles us and literally demands
of us that we always recognize that LGBT justice is part of a larger
movement for justice—for ALL LGBT persons (who are of every race,
and gender and ability and economic class) and for ALL of creation. If
someone doesn’t have enough to eat, that is an LGBT issue. If
someone can’t get a job because of their ability or their gender identity
or their national origin, that is an LGBT issue. If someone journeys to
this country because of being buried in a mine, or forced to do
dehumanizing work, or because they simply cannot find work, that is
an LGBT issue.

At this GA and in your work in the future, I wish you grace and justice.
Those of us in the wider pro-LGBT justice movement and beyond need
you, we need your leadership and we are praying with and for you.

Amen!