Father Unni Stands Up To Catholic Bigotry

It seems that the Catholic Archdiocese of Boston, responding to criticism that it was actually sanctioning a Gay Pride celebration, has announced that it had ordered a South End church to cancel a Mass scheduled for next weekend that was themed, “All are Welcome."

And perhaps subtitle it, *"Unless You're Queer."

Well, the LGBT community is not amused. 

It seems that St. Cecilia Parish in Boston had planned a “liturgy to commemorate Boston Pride 2011" and, in a church bulletin, announced: “The Rainbow Ministry of St. Cecilia Parish invites all friends and supporters of the LGBT community to a Mass in celebration of Boston’s Pride Month. The theme of the liturgy, ‘All Are Welcome,’ honors Christ’s message of hope and salvation to all people. We will also celebrate the diverse community that finds its home at St. Cecilia."

What a lovely message, and one that was obviously culled form the Book of God Is Love. But then the conservative members of the Church, got their collars and shrouds and granny pants in a twist, and demanded that the archdiocese intervene.

And they trotted out their spokesbigot, Terrence Donilon, who is rereading the Book Of God Hates Fags, to say: “The wording and placement of a bulletin notice announcing that the St. Cecilia Rainbow Ministry will be joining the parish at a Mass on June 19 may have given the unintended impression that the Mass is in support of Gay Pride Week; it is not."

Father Unni, the pastor of St. Cecilia's has not commented, but Donilon said that he spoke for the parish and that the decision was made by senior officials at the archdiocese.

Foot stomp. Head snap.

Donilon, of course, took no questions about the apparent contradiction of the church’s bulletin and his statement, but did say that there would be a Mass sometime in the future to welcome the community, though not specifically the LGBT community.

It is written in The Book Of God Hates Fags, you know.

But then, just as the conservative Catholics railed about homosexuality and sin and pride, and how they loved the sinner but hate the sin, except if the sin is hate, Father Unni had something to say, and, upon finishing his sermon, received an actual standing ovation from his parishioners.

Father Unni:. “You are welcome here, gay or straight, rich or poor, young or old, black or white. Here, you all can say, ‘I can worship the God who made me as I am. [G]ood love always requires sacrifice. We are being called to do not what is easy, but what is holy.’’

“We are not this renegade, crazy, liberal church. We’re just Christians trying to live the gospel."

And preach the word of The Book Of God Is Love.

Canceled Mass Outrages Gays
Priest Says All Are Welcome In His Church

A Tale Of Two Churches

Out in Illinois, the Catholic Charities of Rockford has announced that they will put an immediate halt to its state-funded foster care program and adoption services on the very day that the new civil unions law takes effect in the state.

Yes, they will no longer be helping children be adopted or placed in foster care, because, god forbid, those children might go to a gay couple. See, the Catholic Church, home to child rapists and their protectors, wants to punish children now, rather than protect them.

Catholic Charities say they are leaving the foster care and adoption business to avoid liability if state law requires them to place children with parents in civil unions--either gay or straight--though we all know too well that they mean just the gay parents. Catholic Charities has no problem with fostering children to straight couples, even straight single people, but they don't want children raised by gay people, or couples, so they'll just stop the programs entirely.

This moronic, bigoted, homophobic, anti-children decision will displace about 350 children and put nearly sixty people out of work.

How effing-christ-like.

Meanwhile, up in St. Cloud Minnesota, the debate over marriage equality is dividing members of the clergy within the United Methodist Church.


At their annual conference in St. Cloud, some 40 Minnesota United Methodist clergy signed a statement saying they would marry any couple who came to them, including same-sex couples.

Reverend Bruce Robbins, of the Hennepin Avenue United Methodist Church in Minneapolis, initially said he hoped about a dozen or so of his colleagues might sign the statement, by the number has grown to 40. 

Now, to be fair, Methodist church discipline forbids same-sex marriage, so members of the clergy who perform them could lose their conference membership, or clergy credentials.

But they are making a statement. And so is the Catholic Charities of Rockford. One is following the tent that god is love, the other is saying children should suffer.

 
40 United Methodist Clergy Pledge To Marry Gay Couples
 
Catholic Charities Ends Foster Care, Adoption Services To Avoid Serving Same-Sex Parents

Minnesota Governor Mark Dayton Symbolically Vetoes Anti-Marriage Equality Bill

This morning, in what is seen as it truly is, a symbolic act, Minnesota Governor Mark Dayton vetoed the state Legislature's constitutional amendment defining marriage as only a union between one man and one woman. Now, constitutional amendments do not require a governor's signature, so Dayton's veto has no real power, but he simply wanted to make his strong condemnation of the discriminatory legislation known:

"I do not have the power to prevent this divisive and destructive constitutional amendment from appearing on the ballot, in November 2012, the Legislature sent it to me in the form of a bill. Thus, symbolic as it my be, I am exercising my legal responsibility to either sign or veto it...The path of social progress, of human compassion and understanding, would be tragically reversed by this amendment. Minnesotans are better than this. I urge Minnesotans to reject this amendment."

Bravo, Governor Dayton, bravo.
His letter follows:

source

Murray Richmond: Coming Out Of The Dark

Murray Richmond was a Presbyterian minister for 17 years, and a hospital chaplain for three years. He used to stand at the pulpit and preach against The Gays and the sins of homosexuality, and the Word of God and blibbety blah blay blue everything anti-gay.

Murray Richmond

Now, however, Murray Richardson has come out of the darkness, revealing that, as Americans have shifted their attitudes bout marriage equality--from 32% approval in 2004 to 53% today--he is one of those Americans who has changed his mind.

Pastor say what?

He tells of being ordained back in 1989, and serving a church in North Carolina. Homosexuality wasn't much of an issue, gay rights weren't an issue, except maybe to the LGBT community, and the idea of an openly gay pastor was, well, it simply wasn't done. Murray Richmond believed, then, that no one "could be a practicing homosexual and a Christian. The Bible was straightforward on this issue. It all seemed incredibly obvious to me."

Then came the 90s, and suddenly homosexuality became a hot-button issue for more than just The Gays; straight people were talking about it, supporting it, protesting it. Murray Richmond advocated that old chestnut, "hate the sin, love the sinner"--he'd picked his side in the debate, and his side was anti-gay.

However, even then he didn't like the debate, because he thought other things, like, oh say, helping the poor, feeding the hungry, aiding the homeless, should be of the utmost importance, not, as he says, "determining the morality of what adults did in their bedrooms."

But Murray joined the crowds and preached against homosexuality. Today, he calls that holding "the traditional line" and limiting the role of gays in the church. But Murray felt something wasn't right with the anti-LGBT preaching; what he had once believed to be "biblically correct began to feel less and less right" in his heart.

And then Murray had an epiphany, well, three epiphanies, I guess.

He began having an online chat with a gay Christian man, who, like so many gay Christians, struggle with their orientation and their faith, and how those two things should work. The man struggled to tell Murray of his thoughts and ideas, that "God was more concerned with his pride than his sexuality" because he felt Murray, like every other man of the cloth to whom he'd spoken, had tried to convert him. But Murray listened, and questioned himself, and the church.

Then, one of his parishioners asked him to perform an exorcism for him because he was gay. The man had tried everything to change from gay to straight, and thought exorcism might actually do the trick. Murray still felt the man, and his homosexuality, were sinful, but he also knew that the man was not demon-possessed. He was just gay, and afraid.

Finally, Murray Richmond met a woman whose husband had left her for another man. And, to make matters worse, in the woman's eyes, her husband was, of all things, a minister in a small-town. But Murray Richmond was astonished by "her grace," and how she still called her husband the best minister she had ever known; a man who had simply decided that "he could no longer live the lie of his sexuality." 

These three revelations convinced Murray Richmond that no one chooses to be gay, like he had not chosen heterosexuality. And Murray realized that, after years of doing so, albeit begrudgingly, he could no longer condemn gay men and women for something that is not their fault, not their choice.

In the end, what affirmed his newfound beliefs, was when he was "approached by five individuals who demanded: that he come out strongly against acceptance of LGBT people in his next sermon. They wanted him to preach what the Bible said on the issue, but found it funny that "all five of them were divorced and remarried...[and]...[h]ad I done a sermon on what the Bible said about divorce, every one of them would have left the church in a huff."

Indeed.

Still, Murray Richmond did that sermon, possibly out of fear of repercussions from his flock, and today he says it was not his "best hour as a Minister of Word and Sacrament." He felt the Bible, and, apparently God's, view on homosexuality, was far more nuanced than he thought, and, while he tried to instill that thought into his sermon, he still feels he came off as anti-gay.

Murray Richmond:

"Looking back, I see how much my own opinions had been formed by the fact that I was representing a split congregation. Our church, like so many, was divided. And while the people who believed it should be accepted were not going to leave if we maintained a position of non-acceptance, those who felt it was a sin would bolt in a heartbeat if we ever allowed gay clergy or gay marriage. If they bolted, half our budget would go out the door. I knew the issue could tear the church apart. What I didn't realize was how it could tear apart the people in the church as well.
[....]
Murray Richmond left his ministry in 2005 to work as a hospital chaplain. He says one reason he left was because his own marriage was breaking up, but also he was "tired of trying to live up to standards that I did not fully agree with."

Now, he believes in the change, he believes in marriage equality, he believes you can be gay and Christian. He's a believer of all things possible now, and realizes why the church singles out homosexuality as a "litmus test for True Christianity."

Murray Richmond:

Now I am wondering why, if two gay people want to commit their lives to one another, they should ever be denied that chance. No church or pastor should be forced to perform those ceremonies, and they can choose not to recognize gay marriage for their adherents. But the constitution of the Presbyterian Church does not explicitly forbid a pastor from being a thief, a murderer, or an egotistical jerk. It is not designed to do these things. It does prohibit a gay person from becoming a pastor. All I can ask is: Why?"

sourceWelcome into the light, Murray, and keep spreading your words wherever you can.He began to see how the churches use the anti-gay movement as a means to raise money for themselves, and he began to really look at the Bible, and how it talked about homosexuality, and he realized it wasn't as clear cut as he'd been taught, and as he'd once preached.