Our road, in the general direction of Damascus

I have to say, my partner was always sceptical. He experienced, first hand, the sheer awfulness of the church as a gay teenager. He says he will forever be scarred by it and he can never again go under the banner of Christian.

When we adopted our first child, a debate arose between us and our Muslim social worker, about what religion we intended bringing up our children in. Our initial instinct was to say none – and she would not have minded – she made that quite clear. But it was I who blinked.

I suggested to Leon, and he agreed, that faith, of whatever kind, is an important human thing to experience. It matters not if it gets rejected – that is irrelevant. But you can’t teach a child faith. You have to experience it, contradictions and all, for yourself.

A friend of mine told us at the time about her experience of bringing up her children athiests. She said it seemed fine for a while, but she had noticed their loneliness when things went bad, or wrong. They seemed to have no one to turn to, not even an imaginary friend. How lonely indeed.

So, we found a church. It had splendid music and some sense of liturgy and decorum. We were welcomed there and no-one seemed to make any fuss. Whatever stir one middle aged white man, a younger man and two black babies caused, was well managed. And the children would have been none the wiser.

Spurred on by baptism and early communion our boys have therefore, for several years now, attended church. I have been the one to take them, mostly. Leon would come with us on the odd occasion, and then would attend to the needs of his Blackberry during the service. Our eldest son Gabriel became a server while Joshua went through the motions in a good-spirited sort of way, but would much rather have been playing some computer game.

That was how it was for years. The church we attended in Cape Town was spikey, with lots of prancing around and doffing of birettas and a congregation whose attention was focussed forwards in the direction of the choir and the altar, rather than communal - so that suited me perfectly. Sermons were short, incidental and easily ignored. The music was good. The language was the austere beauty of the King James, which could either serve a comedic purpose or else lull one into a sense of quiet comfort.

Then came the attack. I happened to be looking for the address of one of the Bishops on the internet, when I came across an article in a blog relating to a priest, who has, for other reasons, been relieved of his licence to operate as a priest. In it, my name was mentioned, together with a list of statements about me, which amounted to an extraordinary and vicious attack. I knew I had to take action immediately.

I withdrew Gabriel from the server's guild and indicated to the parish priest the nature of the attack and the fact that we would not be returning to the church unless we could be afforded some measure of protection from this man. Silence was the response.

I approached the Bishops and the Archbishop, asking the latter for an interview. Again, silence was the response and no interview was granted. Instead, the Archbishop suggested through his Provincial Officer that I be urged to "pray" for the perpetrator of the attack. In general, bar one or two notable exceptions, silence has been the response of the parish priest and parish as well.

Now, I venture to suggest, had this attack been a racial attack, or a xenophobic attack, or even an attack against a woman - the response would have been markedly different. It would have been immediate and it would have come from the highest levels of the church. But in this instance, clear sustained homophobia, there has been silence, except for a short statement given out by the office of the archbishop, which in the end I offered to help draft.

The clear and distinct impression we have been given, as a family, is that we are not wanted. This despite mouthings to the contrary elsewhere. Homosexual people are supposedly welcome - (but more singly, than in pairs, it seems). Homosexual priests are not welcome - that is very clear indeed - (again, despite mouthings to the contrary). And homosexual priests with a heathen partner and two adopted children seem to deserve no protection from homophobic attacks by another priest - within the ranks of the church - and who is quite obviously in need of psychological care.

I withdrew immediately from the church, and as I had guessed, this priest came looking for me on Sunday mornings at Mass. Had I and my children been there, there would have been, I am quite sure, no protection from him. It was not a risk I was willing to take and certainly not one I was willing to expose my children to.

At the start of this whole situation, Leon had asked a fundamental question. He asked "What kind of an institution is this, that we are exposing our children to?" And I had to admit, it was not a safe one for them, or us. Now, it is doubtless true that they will be exposed to a whole range of issues and problems throughout their lives. They will doubtless encounter homophobia in their schools, on the sports fields, etcetera etcetera. But that does not mean that we should be actually seeking out places for them to be abused? The church is clearly one such place. It is not a safe place for them, or for us. But more than this, the church is an environment where gay and lesbian people are second-class citizens and that is intolerable.

From the perspective of faith, well, that is something one must mould for oneself in any case. And my life is not, and never has been one which depends on a faith in God for its goodness. I have not quite worked out how we will be explaining to the children why we don't go to church anymore - but I guess the truth won't hurt them. I might just say this to them - that the church just wasn't a safe place for us. We can do much better elsewhere.

Praying for Women

As I have indicated many times - I am not a real Catholic. I have journeyed a very circuitous route, via the Charismatic Movement, where we munched on "Love Buns" - to Liberation Theology, in the midst of which I once consecrated Coca-Cola.

It caused severe trauma amongst the theological students at what was then St Paul's College. They rushed out of the Mass, tears of Catholic righteousness streaming down their cheeks and badly in need of counselling.

The point I was making was a fairly simple one. The party drink in Jesus day was wine. The party drink in our day is probably, more universally, Coca-Cola. Wine, quickly came to symbolise blood in the Christian church. In our day, it is not difficult to see Coca-Cola, and all it stands for, as somewhat bloody.

In my defence, I tried to explain that in huge swathes of the Christian Church, alchohol is not used, and where it is and grapes are not available, other means are used, such as rice wine, or pineapple wine etc etc. But I was dealing with delicate theological minds, who could not see past the dog-collars they were so desperately begging for.

So, after being hauled before bishops, archbishops and the entire court of heaven, I was ecclestastically slapped on the wrist. Needless to say, I have never lived the matter down. The church has an exceedingly long memory, for certain things (and an exceedingly short one, for others!)

Now I mention this, because it was about this kind of time that the "debate" about whether or not you needed to have a penis to consecrate bread and wine became fierce within the Anglican Church. And it was about then, that I met feminism, both theologically and otherwise, for the first time.

My encounter with feminism was much the same experience as meeting Black Consciousness, for the first time, when I, along with another white colleague, was forcibly removed from a meeting. It was a damn good lesson - and one for which I will be forever grateful. The message was pretty unambiguous. It was this: "Just shut up! If you want to learn anything - then just shut up!"

And the feminists told me much the same. "Don't call yourself a feminist", they said, "You are a man - so just shut up".

Now this morning I was sitting quietly in church. It was this rather peculiar Feast of the church called the "Assumption of the Blessed Virgin Mary". I won't go into the details of what that all means - (even if I thought I knew) - but obviously, Mary was very high on the agenda of the worship. And during the prayers, the man leading them gave thanks to God for "women", for their "ministry" - for things like their love and their care and their this and their that. I found it galling.

This is, after all, a church which never has had and (chances are good), probably never will have, a woman as a priest. Women seem not to be allowed as servers, or sub-deacons or anything else up front, except in the chior. I note also that women are allowed to bring up the collection and elements of bread and wine.

So, when we pray for them, it is basically in their role as tea-makers and equivalent. Not in their role as leaders of nations; of Bishops and Archbishops; of surgeons and nuclear physicists, no! The tone of our prayer relegates them to what is quite simply a second-rate place. Then what we do is, we cloud that all in mystery and glory and wonder in our adoration of the Blessed Virgin Mary.

But it is a hoax!It is a complete hoax. What we are doing is patronising them - and calling it adoration. It is a clever thing we do, us men.

If I were a woman, sitting in that service this morning, I would have been profoundly irritated - no, I would have been disturbed and I would have been angry.

I am extremely glad I am not a woman, much the same as I am extremely glad I wasn't born black. Because life, really, would be a whole different ball game, if I were. That is one of the things I know for sure...

Incidently, I find what happens on "Women's day" - our South African nod in the direction of women generally as a nation, on 09 August each year, to suffer from much of the same problems. The difference between "celebrating" women, once a year and having women as equal in all respects to men - is vast.

Queer female Bishops - The world finally ends.

I was recently sent this really interesting post on an interesting Blog : Fr Scott Gunn writes:



Of “bonds of affection” and misplaced anxiety


If you are one of those who glance at 7WD but who are not Episco-geeks, go have a look at this news article about the election this past weekend of the Rev’d Mary Douglas Glasspool as one of two new bishops suffragan in the Diocese of Los Angeles. OK, now that we’re all caught up, I have a bit of a rant to share with you, dear reader.

Mary Glasspool’s election has energized progressives around the Anglican Communion as it has outraged conservatives. Sadly, as in the case of Gene Robinson, many people will work themselves into a tizzy over someone who will serve in a distant realm. What effect will Mary Glasspool have on, say, South Carolina? Not much, unless you’re looking for trouble. And that’s just what’s happening.

Within minutes of her election, Canon Kendall Harmon had issued this statment:

This decision represents an intransigent embrace of a pattern of life Christians throughout history and the world have rejected as against biblical teaching. It will add further to the Episcopal Church’s incoherent witness and chaotic common life, and it will continue to do damage to the Anglican Communion and her relationship with our ecumenical partners.

Of course, this is exactly the argument that fear-mongers make in response to any wider embrace the church is practicing. People said the same thing when the Euro-American church began to ordain people of color and to advocate an end to the slave trade. Racial discrimination was seen as biblical and orthodox. More recently, they’re still being made by some people about women’s ordination. Doesn’t anyone see the pattern? “We don’t want ___ in our club. We’ve always managed without them, so why start now?” Such an attitude is not hard to comprehend, but it is sadly misguided. And it runs counter to the Gospels, the teachings of St. Paul, and indeed the witness of the entire Hebrew Scriptures.

Sure, I could use proof texts to argue against, say, same-sex relationships. But then I’d be opening a whole can of worms in my ethical life. If you’re going to yell at gay people, shouldn’t you be yelling all the more at wealthy people who pull up to church in fancy cars? Oops. They pay the salary. Better not yell at them.

If you’re going to scream about same-sex relationships, shouldn’t you be screaming about divorce? Oops. Several key leaders in the conservative Anglican movement are — guess what — divorced. So loud conservatives choose to make a nuanced exception for that one. And then when you start poking around, you quickly see that the whole motivation for opposing the inclusion of lesbian and gay people is based on fear. People are always afraid of the unknown. It’s human nature. But it’s not the nature of Jesus Christ, who again and again said “be not afraid” while he was holding out a hand to the most marginalized people of his society.

For years, I’ve been urging patience in the US in our relations with the Anglican Communion. Often Americans are too quick to act unilaterally and too slow to listen. At times, our posture in Anglican Communion conversations has been patronizing or neo-colonial. But I think we learned something in the last few years about listening. Certainly, the Lambeth Conference was a watershed event. Now I think more leaders in the Episcopal Church understand our place in the Anglican Communion. I hope more and more people understand the value of our communion with a global Anglican Communion.

Around the Communion, the walls of fear are breaking down. I’ve personally spoken with bishops in two different provinces in Africa who until recently did not ordain women at all. And yet these bishops are now looking forward to enjoying the company of women in their houses of bishops. Experience and grace have transcended fear.

Now we’re told that we have to deny the possibility that God might call lesbian or gay people has bishops. Why? Because it’s not settled yet. Because some don’t like it. Because it could hurt relationships overseas. Nonsense!

We should not expect people in other cultures to share all of our values and beliefs regarding human sexuality. We should be generous in allowing differing cultural contexts. And we should ask the same of our sisters and brothers in other cultures. We should be able to focus on what unites us.

This past week, the parish I serve hosted Bishop John Zawo of the Diocese of Ezo (Sudan). Bishop John offered an inspiring sermon about being prepared to receive Jesus Christ last week, and then he came to our coffee hour and told us about life in his diocese. He was bracingly honest about the brutality of life, but also powerfully inspiring about the vitality of faith in Ezo.

On Monday, he was our guest at home. I spent lots of time sharing conversation with him. I know that he does not share my views or beliefs on the church’s inclusion of GLBT persons. At one point, I asked him what he would say to those who want to separate themselves from the Episcopal Church and the Anglican Communion. I’m paraphrasing, but he said something like this: “Jesus commanded us to be one. We Anglicans are brothers and sisters in Christ. There can be no separation. We need fellowship from one another.”

Embedded in that statement is a sense that we are living through a tough time, but that we must stay together if we hope to be reconciled. As one west African bishop said to me last summer at the Lambeth Conference, “We are family. When families quarrel, they must come together and be reconciled.” I’ve heard similar things from lay people in several countries in Asia and Africa.

The only people who are sowing “incoherent witness and chaotic common life” are schismatic bishops and manipulative Americans. There is no crisis in the pews of the Anglican Communion. The crisis is lived out in business-class airplane seats and episcopal palaces. I will not speculate what the motives are. But I grieve the way we are harming Christ’s body, the church, by our incessant squabbles about second- or third-order matters.

And what of our chief spiritual leader, the Archbishop of Canterbury? He has remained steadfastly silent while several provinces of the Anglican Communion have supported the death penalty for same-sex activity. And yet he was able to muster an almost instantaneous response to the election of Mary Glasspool. Here I’d like to quote his statement in its entirety with some responses to each of his three paragraphs.

The election of Mary Glasspool by the Diocese of Los Angeles as suffragan bishop elect raises very serious questions not just for the Episcopal Church and its place in the Anglican Communion, but for the Communion as a whole.

Well, yes. We need to ask ourselves how long we will tolerate the agenda of our Anglican Communion being set by anxiety- and fear-driven people. Sadly, most of those eager to dwell on schism are, ironically, bishops. The same people who have taken vows to guard the unity of the church seem intent in driving it apart.

The process of selection however is only part complete. The election has to be confirmed, or could be rejected, by diocesan bishops and diocesan standing committees. That decision will have very important implications.

Yes, this decision will have important ramifications. Will the Episcopal Church act in a prophetic manner, giving voice to the millions of gay and lesbian Anglicans living in oppression throughout the world? Will some reactionary Anglicans use this as the latest excuse to go their own way? Will bishops and Standing Committees of the Episcopal Church follow the leading of the Holy Spirit and the canonical process of our church? (Please note: I am not in a position to say with certainty that Glasspool is called by the Holy Spirit; that is for the electing convention and those with a vote to exercise; though I do trust the process in L.A.)

The bishops of the Communion have collectively acknowledged that a period of gracious restraint in respect of actions which are contrary to the mind of the Communion is necessary if our bonds of mutual affection are to hold.

This would hold some water if anyone other than the Episcopal Church had paid a wit of attention to the Windsor Report since it was issued. Since 2003, we’ve consecrated no more gay bishops. As a Church, we’ve authorized no public rites for same-sex blessings. Meanwhile, boundary incursions by Kenya, Rwanda, Nigeria, the Southern Cone, and now even US Anglican dioceses continue unabated. While ECUSA was graciously restraining, Peter Akinola and his friends have been flying all over the world to conferences, holding media briefings, forming new jurisdictions, and utterly ignoring the Windsor Report and the Lambeth Conference resolutions.

Speaking of which, I’m beginning to wonder if anyone has actually read the oft-cited Lambeth 1.10. It calls for the Anglican Communion to listen to the experience of gay and lesbian persons. To my knowledge, no openly gay or lesbian person has ever addressed a Lambeth Conference, a Primates Meeting, or the Anglican Consultative Council. [CORRECTION: See the comments, below, where Solange de Santis reports that one GLBT person addressed the ACC. My general point remains.] When the Archbishop of Canterbury threw a bone toward the listening process in Anaheim, it was done almost in secret. But meetings with Archbishop Bob Duncan are held in the light of day. What does that say?

Lambeth 1.10 also says that we are “condemn irrational fear of homosexuals”. Interesting, that. Where have the primates of Uganda and Nigeria (among others) been while their nations consider criminalizing the mere discussion of homosexuality? Where has the Archbishop of Canterbury been while major leaders in his Communion flout the teachings of the Lambeth Conference? He is quick to criticize the Episcopal Church in the USA or in Canada, but utterly silent on the horrific behavior of other provinces — behavior that has murderous consequences.

I was reminded of an interesting thing today. In the genealogy of Jesus Christ, we are told that Jesus is in the line of David, through Bathsheba. Remember that story? Not exactly what we’d call family values. And yet God can bring about the Incarnation through the line of humans with the worst behavior. Even if I believed that Glasspool is wrong to engage in a lesbian relationship, doesn’t it seem strange to say that God’s grace can’t possibly flow through her? Isn’t one of the key messages of the scriptures that God’s grace is available to all?

What I find especially sad is that this same Archbishop of Canterbury, before his elevation to that role, said some very different things. He said this: “I concluded that an active sexual relationship between two people of the same sex might therefore reflect the love of God in a way comparable to marriage, if and only if it had about it the same character of absolute covenanted faithfulness.” Get that?! Rowan Williams said that God’s love could be reflected in an active sexual relationship between two men or two women — comparable with marriage. (!)

So why the change? Because presumably he views his new role as binding him to take a new position. That’s sad. Any time that fear overtakes hope, we are disregarding the Gospel’s life-giving message. For the Anglican Communion, it’s time to move on. It’s time to focus on the mission of the church, without worrying about a few people who are afraid.

After conversing with lay people, deacons, priests, and bishops from throughout the Anglican Communion, I’m convinced that only a tiny number of noisy people want schism. Most of us simply want to delight in our fellowship as sisters and brothers in Christ, united in the bonds of affection of the Anglican Communion.

Let’s be anxious about living the Gospel, not about pleasing a few people who are intent on spreading an epidemic of fear.

Sunday school

St Michaels and All Angels Church, Observatory, Cape Town


Sometimes I wonder about Sunday school. I take my kids to church most Sundays. They lounge about on the pews, completely disengaged from the service - which is, after all in Cranmer's English. They play with their collection money. They drop it on the floor. They lose it. They play with the hassocks. They pile them up and stand on them. Or they pile them up and then they sit on them. They fall off of them. They make others in the pew, who might want to use them, beg for them. They pile them in the space between the next pew and the seat, so you have to clamber over them to get into the pew. They read the hymn books upside down. They drop the hymn books. The spread themselves out luxuriously on the pews. They kick each other and then they fight.

All the while, I am talking to them in that strict parental whisper which all parents would recognise immediately. It is done either without moving the lips, through clenched teeth. Or, mouthing the threat with exaggerated lip movements and no sound at all. It usually works for about 3 seconds.

The fact is, they are fairly bored in church. However, on Sunday, I watched the younger one listening fairly intently to the soloists at the Haydn "Heiligmesse". He was listening. Of that I am sure.

They don't object to going to church. I see they are bribed with sweets in the Sunday school, where they run to, gleefully, after the reading of the Gospel - and I sigh a sigh of great relief and relax into the rest of the service.

"Is God's name "Allah"? asked my eldest child, some time after moving to Cape Town. "Yes!" I answered brightly. And Christians call him or her ..." (at this point I paused, flayling about wildly ...) "God"! - I came up with.

Last Sunday I watched Sunday school in action. It was the festival of Christ the King, so they made crowns to wear on their heads. They were asked what kind of a crown Jesus wore, even though he was the King of the whole world? Answer? - a crown of thorns.

She took it forward and asked the children what they wanted to do with their lives, because anyone could be a leader. I thought that was quite sweet and noted that my one child aspires to be a school principal.

The Sunday school teacher seems a lovely woman. She is kind, dedicated and constant. But would she say that God's name is Allah? I doubt it, somehow. And how do I explain to my children that the model of kingship is obsolete, wanting and should be confined to the waste-bins of human governance experience - within the context of a celebration of Christ the King?

Queer discussions with a Bishop

A Bishop of the Anglican Church in South Africa, who will remain nameless, recently invited me in for some discussion on the 'Queer' issue. Now, let me start by saying, he is a good guy. He has a long history of involvement in the struggle for justice and equality in South Africa. He is sensible. He reads (which is a huge pleasure to behold!) and he is extremely thoughtful. But more than that, he values the opinions of others, which is not necessarily a common episcopal trait.

I understand (though I did not ask) that he is straight. But despite this handicap, he undoubtedly has a passion for issues of justice and queer justice being one of them. How rare is that, I ask you? And I wonder how much easier it would be for Christian Queers, if there were more people in positions of authority in the Church who did start with a passion for justice, in all its myriad needs and forms, and only then proceed to a discussion about homosexuality and whether or not Anglicans should allow; ordain; consecrate or marry homosexuals. I have a suspicion, things would be a lot easier, if a pre-requisite to the debate was a committment, not just in word, but in deed, to those issues of social justice.

Anyway, I had taken him one or two books to read. The one which he enjoyed the most was Leo Steinberg's The Sexuality of Christ in Rennaissance Art and in Modern Oblivion (University of Chicago Press, 1983 (revised 1996). It is an extraordinary book, unbelievably well researched and hugely informative.

The other, was a book I have already reviewed on this site - The Queer God, by Marcella Althaus-Reid - which had the desired effect of blowing him away - just because that is what it does! I sent him my review as well, and it was this which he homed in on, in our discussion. In it, I made the following points:

• We Queers are only allowed to speak, if it is in the language and grammar of the hegemonic power. We are not allowed to explore our own language, our own culture, our own norms, our own reality. That is the dungeon to which we are confined, within the church and the dominant theology.
• In the end, in the fullness of time, we Queers will make ourselves heard. And not in a way which accepts that the dominant heterosexual project is the right one and that we somehow fit in with that. Queer Theologians are saying, "you have got it thumpingly wrong!" If we are excluded, if we are kept at the gate, if our voices are silent and if our culture and practice is condemned and excluded, you are wrong! Do not think for a moment that we will give up the struggle, or that we will be marginalized or silenced. Because the God is not a heterosexual God. In fact, that God is a blasphemy, an abhorrence and a sham.

The Bishop drew my attention to what I had said in a review of the book (i.e. the above) and said it sounded "angry". I was surprised about this, because I do not feel particularly angry. Mostly, I feel resigned, because I know that eventually, the Church will be dragged kicking and screaming into a more reasonably position than it has at the moment - eventually.

And then, secondly, the issue which perplexed him was, of course, the issue of my questioning the rightness of the hetero-normative church on its views relating to single, committed partnerships - as a model of marriage.

I said that I did not necessarily have a problem with it. What I have a problem with is the absolute refusal to even consider anything else! That is no way to have a debate. That is certainly no way to "listen" to those on the other side! You cannot, in any negotiation, start with the bottom line!

His point, about the debate was interesting. He said, granted, that was probably the bottom line for them. But what was the actual objective. If one starts with that point, we will probably never get any further. And the objective is, he would have thought, to kind of "get a toe in the door", as it were.

Although, at the time, I think I agreed with his position, on reflection it sounds very much like those who, during apartheid, argued that blacks and others in the liberation struggle, should pitch themselves a little lower than the full take-over of power from the white minority. A range of mechanisms were suggested: tri-cameral parliaments; bantustans; separate development etc etc. None of them worked, because the black majority, and those of us who fought alongside them, refused to accept "crumbs from the master's table".

I would suggest that it is much the same with the women's struggle and I would suggest it is much the same for us Queers. It is actually inauthentic to suggest anything else.

Children's Spirituality

Pic: Two dads on Joshua's collection day from the Princess Alice Adoption Home. Leon is holding Gabriel

It was our Muslim social worker who asked us a question which was to set back the adoption process of our first child, Gabriel, by a good couple of weeks. She asked what religion we were intending to bring our child up in.

We both balked and the matter required intensive discussion and thought. At the time, I had not seen the inside of a church for a good 12 years –( well I suppose I had, dragged kicking and screaming into one or two weddings, or sneaking into the back row of a funeral or two – but nothing more). Leon, my partner, on the other hand, was so damaged by his experience of the church, growing up as a gay person in a church environment - which hated, despised and rejected what he knew he was - that he wanted to stay as far away from anything even sounding like the “C” word, for the rest of his life.
So we discussed the matter. We debated the matter. We pondered. For weeks! And finally, we decided that the issue which the social worker was asking us about, was actually that of culture. We are two white men. The child which we were getting, was black. We are a same-sex couple. Then, it was fairly uncommon for people like us to be adopting children. What “culture” would we be bringing this child up in?

I said to Leon, “Look, I know what my culture is. It is High Church Anglicanism. That’s what I have grown up in. That is what I know. That is where I learned my values, and those values are what I continue to value”. The debate went on. I had, after all, shaken the dust of the church off my feet and was not missing it in the least. But I knew, without any doubt that I wanted the church to be part of my raising of my children. I wanted them to know faith. I wanted them to experience mystery. I wanted them to become acquainted with the long traditions of Anglican experience. I wanted them to know what had shaped me and moulded me and what had established the value system I held. Leon agreed and further agreed to support me in enabling this to happen – which meant that – without much relish, but with no disapproval, he would also come regularly to church and be with the family.

An atheist friend of mine was talking to me about this issue one day and said this. She said that she had brought up her children as atheists and it was a decision she deeply regretted. She regretted it, because, she said, when they were frightened, or alone, or worried, or distraught, they had nowhere to go. They had nowhere to go for comfort. They had to face what they were facing alone. They had to face the void all on their own. She said if she had the chance to do it over again, she would not have brought them up as atheists. For me, that discussion was determinative.

The immediate difficulty would be finding a church. We were living outside Pretoria at the time, so I did some research on likely candidates, and found Christ Church Arcadia, with its priest Fr David Swanepoel. I phoned him and we had a very long conversation. I explained to him that I was a priest who hadn’t been to church for many years and hadn’t really missed it. I said I was in a same-sex relationship and that we had two trans-racially adopted sons. He paused briefly and then said this – He said, “Michael, I have no idea what my parish is going to make of two gay white boys with adopted black children, but why don’t you come along and see if you like us?
I found that extraordinarily enlightened. We went and we did like it. The congregation was fairly white, but not entirely. The theology seemed accommodating and reasonable and the music was spectacular – so we decided to join. Returning to church, for me, was like getting into a warm bath. The words rolled off my tongue. I could go back to that place in my being, which for me speaks of my essence – that place where I can find my language, my grammar, my words. That place from where the rest of me can be interpreted. As I said, my partner, Leon, finds it all rather less exalted in every way, but our agreement is that he will come with to support the decision. And that is what he does.

Fr David and his wife Margie are remarkable people. Initially, every Sunday they would both wait outside the front door, to welcome us at the church. In that way, they made it plain to the congregation, what we were welcome there. And consequently, the rest of the parish did welcome us warmly. Both our boys were baptised there and on their baptism certificates, the word “mother” is replaced by another “father” – so we both appear as the children’s parents and were both referred to as such during the service. All it took, was leadership. We worshipped regularly there for a number of years.

We moved to Cape Town to be close to Leon’s family. I have looked around for a church which is well mixed racially and which is accepting of gay people generally and would be of us in particular. The Cathedral was always an option, with its long and proud history of struggle and human rights but I was looking more for a parish church setting. I am happy to have found a home in St Michael’s and All Angels, Observatory. It is a parish with a bit of a history, but it has been extremely welcoming to us as a family and the boys feel very at home there now. In fact, to my mind, they are a bit too enthusiastic about going to Sunday School!

But I found this church after a lot of dithering and dathering. I visited many churches in the area, trying to make a good choice. One day Gabriel came home and asked me “Daddy, is God’s name Allah?” I paused for a moment and said “Well, yes, it is! God’s name is also - (and now I thought very hard indeed, and came up with...) God!” It was then that I decided that it was well nigh time for the children get back to church.

So, in a strange and roundabout way, my two children have also brought me back into the church. And I can see them more and more getting the point of it all – so very quickly. Soon, Gabriel will be making his first communion, because he has asked for it. And before I blink, they will be rebellious teenagers, and then they will make their own decisions. But I have no doubt, the groundwork will have been done. They will know faith, even if they want to reject it. And I hope in their life’s journey, that when they are frightened or lonely, they will, at the very least, have somewhere to go for comfort.

Gay identity

"NOW THEREFORE, I, BARAK OBAMA, President of the United States of America, by virtue of the authority vested in me by the Constitution and laws of the United States, do hereby proclaim June 2009 as Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, and Transgender Pride Month. I call upon the people of the United States to turn back discrimination and prejudice everywhere it exists."

Now, there is a thing! - "Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, and Transgender Pride Month"! I have to say, as a South African, I find the idea rather strange. I mean, what would one compare it to? Could we have a "Black Pride Month"? Or, if one is talking minorities, a "White Pride Month"? It all starts to look and sound rather absurd.

Now, it is true that most of the time, other than the fact that we do not share commonality with the rest of society, being Gay or Lesbian, (or whatever) is frequently the ONLY thing which binds us together. And in the end, one needs to ask, does it even do that? Is it not really a figment?

And when I start to compare lifestyles, and political persuasion, and ethics and things like that - I find , often, I really don't want to be in that group at all! Yes, we may be Gay, or otherwise engaged sexually, but that is hardly a reason for being together - unless there is some other unifying factor.

Like, for instance, oppression of one kind or another, or persecution, or unequal opportunities, or hatred. But then it is - or at least it should be - a joint effort. Being Gay, or Lesbian, or Bisexual or Transgendered, or Intersexed (or even heterosexual!) is just what we are, as human beings. It is not worth forming a sub-culture over, any more than red-hairdness might be.

To my mind, it plays into the prevailing prejudices of society to want to, or need to, separate off in this way. I think it has a place - for the purposes of lobbying, cajoling, pressuring. But the problem is, that it frequently then becomes an end in itself, not a means to an end.

Obama has been criticised fairly strongly because he has not done away with the ability of individual states to take their own decision restricting same-sex marriage. In his campaign for the White House, Obama had pleged to repeal the Defence of Marriage Act, which bars the federal government from recognising same-sex marriages and enabling individual states to refuse to recognise such marriages performed in other states.. The Justice Department has filed a brief, in opposition to a federal lawsuit, which argues that the law is unconstitutional, saying that the Act "reflects a cautiously limited response to society's still evolving understanding of the institution of marriage".

Now, at first glance, this looks pretty cut and dried. How is it that there is not simply one position, for everyone? Surely that is what one would expect in a liberated, free society? But there is, of course, another argument - one which is being played out at the moment - in a much smaller arena, in the Anglican Church.

Here it is argued, that we need to " take our people with us". I would think, from the brief of the Justice Department, that much the same perspective (and caution) is being applied. What is meant, is that one has to keep the bigger prize in focus and take small steps to get there.

On the one hand, one cannot but agree. Of course, the best scenario is that there should be consensus on the matter. But on the other (and I am afraid this is the trump card in the debate), it is not as though one is arguing about what colour to paint a room, or when to serve tea. Human lives and human dignity is the issue here. And if it is wrong that state is unfairly discriminating against some people - prolonging the discrimination is not a satisfactory solution.

I think the church is a slightly - but only slightly - different matter. Because there, unfortunately, one has to deal not only with the soft bedding of hypocrisy, which the church has made for itself, as well as the difficulty of years of really questionable theology. Neither of these is insurmountable. At least in South Africa, we have our Constitution as one of the sweet fruits of our struggle. It is a sad truth that many in our churches continue to struggle with some of its contents, such as the issue of sexual orientation. I have no doubt that we will eventually get there. It may take a long time. And the probability is that a lot of people will be alienated from the church because of the time it is taking. But, like divorce, and women priests - we will get to the obvious place eventually.

And hopefully, we will all eventually, as humankind, reach a point when being gay or straight is as irrelevant and unremarkable as the colour of one's eyes.