As is often true on Gay Pride Sunday, we are small in numbers here at the church today. Many of our members, gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender, and straight are downtown marching in the gay pride parade. Every other year, I march too. But this is my year to be here and to preach about the topic of Pride and specifically, to preach about why we, as Unitarian Universalists, have supported Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual and Transgender rights and Pride for so long.
This year we’ve borrowed the concept of Pride as the focus for our entire month. Last week I talked a little bit about pride and about how it can be a positive thing in anyone’s life. Today, I want to talk more specifically about Pride as a powerful political and personal tool. I want to explore with you what we have to learn from Gay pride.
Most of us have felt the power of shame in our lives. Shame and violence are the two most powerful tools of social control that exist in human communities. They are used to keep us all in line, to keep us quiet, to batter our self-esteem and defeat our sense of strength. Usually, shame comes first and usually it is enough to keep us in line. Little boys who are sensitive, tender-hearted, and creative are usually the first to feel the powerful effects of shaming. It may begin subtly, but very quickly boys—all boys—learn that if they cry or laugh too much, or if they prefer nurturing play to competition, or if they are more compassionate than tough—they will feel the power and pain of shame.
Girls, of course, feel it too—though there is a bit more room in our society for the tomboy. Still, if a girl doesn’t care about how she looks, or if she wants to rebuild an engine instead of becoming a cheerleader, or if she prefers robots or fishing to Disney princesses—she too will quickly learn the power and pain of shame.
And let’s not forget the kids who don’t fit the gender dichotomy at all. They ones who can’t jam themselves neatly into a gender box—they feel the power and pain of shame every day, and sadly, most often their parents are counseled, even urged, to be the first to shame their kids into gender conformity.
Shame is everywhere if you are gay. Walking down the street every day, I hear kids say to one another, “That is so gay.” They don’t mean happy. They mean “stupid” or “unattractive” or “embarrassing” or “unacceptable.” In popular culture, “That’s so gay” is the ultimate insult. But shame is not always that blatant. As we get older, we tend to be a little more subtle. So my adult friends don’t say, “That’s so gay.”
Instead, they wonder why gay people have to so obvious—so “in your face”—about being gay. They wonder why we can’t just be quiet about it. I mean, why do we need a parade and t-shirts and to talk about our lives and experience all the time?
Rev. Mark Belletini was one of the first openly gay UU ministers. When he graduated from seminary, he had a very hard time finding a congregation that could see him for the amazing minister he was and is instead of just seeing—and fearing—him as a gay man. Later, when he had found a place where he could minister, he wrote this:
Shame is a powerful way to keep people silent and isolated. When someone like Mark speaks, it interrupts that. When
thousands of someones march under rainbow colored balloons right down the main streets of Salt Lake City, it helps break
through the layers of shame that try so hard to suffocate the spirit.
That is why I know we can all learn something important from Gay Pride: because shame is not reserved in our culture for people who are gay. Shame is let loose on every one of us any time we are a little bit “queer”—any time we stop hiding the fact that we’re different in some way from the norms that surround us. The message of shame is always “you’d better not let anyone know.” Shame cuts a person off from some part of themselves. Shame convinces us that we have to hide and hold back and never let anyone know that we aren’t just like the Joneses and everyone else. And that hiding and holding back—and especially the deep sense of inadequacy that grows from them—damages the human spirit.
I’m going to say that again, because I think it is vitally important. Shame damages the human spirit. It attacks people at the deepest part of their being and convinces them that they are not worthy, not important, not good enough, not acceptable as they are. And that is in direct contradiction to what we, as Unitarian Universalists, hold to be true. Shame does not believe in the inherent worth and dignity of every person. In fact, shame destroys that dignity.
That is why we all have something to learn from gay pride. That’s why we should listen closely to anyone who has found the strength to stand up and claim their dignity in the face of shame.
Because what pride is about—Gay pride or any kind of healthy pride—is integrity. Integrity that puts all the pieces of a life back together again and says, “All that I am is okay.” One of my colleagues, Rev. Keith Kron, preaches a sermon that begins by describing the double life he had to lead as a gay public school teacher. Then, toward the end of the sermon, he blesses the listeners by wishing them one life—a single, integrated life of integrity.
When someone like James Broughton breaks through shame to write the words we heard in our reading, we should listen. Because when he moved from shame to pride, he didn’t stop there. He didn’t just say, “I’m proud, now get out of my way.” He came to understand one of the great spiritual lessons. He realized that every person is divine, every person is a whole universe right here and now, every person matters and is holy. He learned the lesson of integrity and compassion—lessons interwoven and revealed in the journey from shame to pride.
Rev. William Sinkford, president of our Association, who was here with us just a few weeks ago to celebrate, says this:
We know from our own experience the many blessings that gay and lesbian people bring to our communities and congregations. We know from our lived experience in religious community that differences of faith, of race and of sexual orientation need not divide us, that diversity within the human family can be a blessing and not a curse. Unitarian Universalists affirm that it is the presence of love and commitment that we value. For Unitarian Universalists, it is homophobia that is the sin, not homosexuality.
It is the presence of love that we value—and the presence of pride that allows people to love themselves and love others with integrity and honesty. This is what we have in common with every single person who is marching downtown this morning, marching for integrity, for love, and for pride. May we join them in spirit and in the struggle to make a place for more love in our communities.
May it be so. May we be the ones who make it so.
Amen. Ashé. And Blessed Be.