
The 7th Annual
Austin
Multifaith
PRIDE Worship Service took place last night, at 7 PM, in the sanctuary of the First United Methodist Church in downtown Austin. After having to cancel our service last year, holding the service at all was a victory in and of itself. All the same, holding the service at First United Methodist Church was, for me at least, somewhat bittersweet.
FUMC is housed in a lovely historic building, bearing witness in clear sight of the Capital and the Governor's Mansion.

Our AMP Worship Service theme this year was Common Ground - Holy Ground.

Extremely fitting for me in particular - as a Lutheran - knowing that the service was being held in a Methodist Church. We Lutherans and the Methodists do have much in common.
The national decision making bodies of both the Lutheran and the Methodist churches are are currently considering joining in "full fellowship" with one another. The Methodists already voted in favor of this at their General Conference and we Lutherans will vote our part of that at our own Churchwide Assembly next August in Minneapolis/St. Paul.
In keeping with both their broader denominational practice and particular congregational history, First United Church, on their website, has a
video explaining how they live out their motto: Open Hearts-Open Minds-Open Doors. At the end of the video, while Lutheran Marty Haugen's hymn "All Are Welcome" plays in the background, a voice over explains how they do actually welcome everyone, no matter "who you are or where you come from."
Social engagement and advocacy for the powerless has always been considered a hallmark of the Methodist Church. First United, like many Methodist Churches, annually hosts a myriad of large community events such as ours. They house a twice a week breakfast for the homeless. They host an ESL school for refugees and immigrants.
Yet - in the midst of all this hosting - there is no word in their statement about being welcomed no matter "who you love".

You see, the Methodists, like the Lutherans, have no policy in place to welcome glbt persons into the full life of their churches. In response to this, some Methodists, like some Lutherans, have developed their own Methodist parachurch welcoming movement, the
Reconciling Ministries Network.
That we have these organizations working towards an explicit welcome for all lgbt persons into the fullest participation of life of the church is to the credit of both our denominations. That we both need such an organization in the first place is to our shame.
This made it oddly fitting that I found myself, representing an ELCA parachurch welcoming
organization, Lutherans Concerned North America - Austin/Central Texas Chapter,

headed in to help set up for a PRIDE service willingly hosted by a Methodist Church on the heels of their General Conference this year in Fort Worth where lgbt rights were once again
voted down as "incompatible with Christian teaching".
And for the most part, "willingly hosted" would be the word. Despite some bureaucratic itchiness about what access we might have as a result of renting the sanctuary for the evening, when push came to shove, their sound engineer showed up and worked tirelessly for over three hours to help see that our service had adequate coverage and their system would not be overwhelmed by the demands of widely varying sound levels ranging from a single human voice canting

to the combined pounding of a choir of drums. No easy task in a nearly century old building.

So there we all gathered, clergy and laity alike. Some of us were "in a pew every Sunday" types and others were engaging in what was clearly an "occasional" practice.
We were a family of faith including folks of every possible description, quite different from the homogenous group I worship with in my home congregation. It was different, very different, but wonderful as well.

The diversity, the variety, the energy, it was exhilarating. For every single person who feels a deep need to observe tradition for tradition's sake, to guard the church against novelty or protect against innovation, I can only wish for them to know the freedom I felt last night. The joy that diversity brings. The power and strength.
Those of us who gathered in the sanctuary of the First United Methodist Church in Austin last night did indeed find our common ground and it was most certainly holy. As with the combined strengths of most families, we proved ourselves to be a strong and sturdy bunch. Not fearless, no, but most assuredly brave in the facing of our fears. Our presence there together, our very lives, witnessing courage.
Who were we last night? Highly trained professionals who labored, closeted, for decades, unable to freely express their deepest most central love for another in the face of risking losing their very livelihood. Pastors, recruited, educated, trained and then rejected at the last possible point of their journey by their denominations. Told they were somehow "not enough" to fill that role in the church they'd so joyfully trained to serve.

Couples who have lived together and loved each other for over 40 years, all that time in the face of a government and church who will yet not recognize their union with either legal protection or sanction of blessing. Young people, coming out of their closets, some of them having to come out of their families at the same time. Naming their place among us and setting aside the shame placed so heavily and unfairly upon their young shoulders. Mothers proud of all their children, gay and straight. Fathers proud to be out to their sons and daughters at long last. Couples celebrating the opportunity to worship joyfully together, expressing affection with no fear of recrimination.

Community leaders, founders of activist groups, allies willing to spend time and energy and money to fight for lgbt rights. Care takers, friends, lovers, young and old, healthy and frail, all together in one place to celebrate community. Commonality. Family.

As keynote speaker the Reverend Karen Thompson put it so well - we were all there to declare, in every sort of naming and language, that we are God's beloved children.
As I helped ready the sanctuary last night, covering their altar with our own rainbow cloth, I couldn't help but shed a silent tear recalling the many black cloths placed upon a communion altar at the Methodist's General Conference.

That was another amazing and diverse group of clergy and laity, strong, sturdy, protesting and witnessing with their own lives to a community where some of God's beloved children are yet - as in my own ELCA - held to be "less than".
I was again reminded of those mourning strips as we heard Ruthie Foster singing "A Friend Like You"

and we were invited to write a prayer on our own colorful strips.

We one by one deposited those prayer strips, a brightly hued jumble of pleas for healing, for unity, for acceptance, and placed them at the same altar where an openly lgbt person might not be welcomed under other circumstances, certainly not officially by the UMC on a Sunday to preside.
So there we were. Inside First United Methodist Church. Good enough for a visit on Thursday night but not fully welcome officially on a Sunday. It would be no different in most of the ELCA congregations I know. Our official policies state that openly lgbt clergy are acceptable only if they pledge themselves to a life of celibacy. A difference, but not much of a distinction.

Methodist or Lutheran, these are certainly up and down days for both our churches. Human institutions, while yet hopefully under the best of circumstances, helping us see our connections to God.

My prayer for us all, Methodist or Lutheran, whether it be more fittingly attached to a colorful strip of celebration and pride or a black strip of mourning, is that we each and every one accept in our hearts, no matter what human voices might be telling us, that God loves us. As we are. Completely. Graciously. Freely. So that, in the light of God's love, our lives can shine.
Truly welcomed. Fully beloved. Protestant. Universalist. Muslim. Jew. Roman Catholic. Gay. Straight. Lesbian. Transgender. Bisexual. One big family at last.