This was my status roughly two weeks after Ash Wednesday that year, which means it was about two weeks after I'd decided to come out to my congregation.
I've already written elsewhere about that time in my life, but something yesterday reminded me of other scenes from that time that have been burned into my memory.
I'd planned to come out on the 13th of May. My contract as the congregation's designated pastor would be over at the end of August, and the church would have the opportunity to vote to either install me permanently, or to give me another contract for 2-4 years, or to say, "Thanks, but no thanks," and to say goodbye. I reasoned, this gave the congregation some time to discern together which of those options they wanted to take.
May 13 also worked well because Easter was over (and the busy season of Lent and Holy Week that led up to it). I would have returned from a conference, in which I was co-leader of a small group of recently ordained ministers, and I knew I wouldn't be going anywhere (either for continuing education or for vacation), for several months. This was important. The positive spin on my logic is: I wanted to be available to folks who wanted to talk to me, to ask me questions, and, for better or for worse, tell me whatever they needed me to hear. The less positive spin? I was afraid that if I went away after the news was out, those who were unhappy that their pastor had come out of the closet might begin making plans to end our time together.
It feels important to mention that I couldn't at that time have imagined exactly who those people would be. My experience, after 21 months in that congregation, was of being warmly welcomed, loved, respected, and supported. And I'd mentioned LGBTQ things from time to time in a sermon-- here and there, I'd let my position be known, that people are people, and we ought to love them all and welcome them all; I'd never had a moment of pushback to that sentiment.
Still. I was very afraid that if I went away during this time of congregational discernment, things would go south. I felt loved. But I also felt scared. I understood very well that, while the congregation might love me, etc., they also might not want to have a lesbian pastor. These two things were not necessarily mutually exclusive.
On May 13 I placed a letter to the congregation in the mail. It said, basically, hey, I love you all, but you probably want to know this about me: I have a partner, and she's also a woman. Also, I think God is love, and I think we have more to do together as congregation and pastor. Still, I'm also aware that that's your call.
That evening I met with the Session. I placed copies of the letter before them, and asked them to read it. I told them I didn't expect a response that evening, that we would meet again the following week and talk after they'd had time to take it in. As they looked up, one by one, I tried to read their faces. I remember vividly the first person to speak... he looked around the room and said, "Well, I don't know about everyone else, but I'm absolutely fine with this." Someone else said, "Oh thank God... I thought you were resigning." A conversation began, the gist of which was: We are fine with this. In fact, we're so happy to know that you are in a relationship with someone! Good for you! This isn't a problem for the denomination, is it?
Wellllllll, yeah. Kinda. Actually, definitely. Heavy sigh.
To be continued.
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