What is in Kelvin's Head?

Coming Out, Coming In, Coming Home

01/02/2013

There’s a new online magazine launched today. It is called Mosaic Scotland, it looks gorgeous and it has an article from me in the first issue. It is classy, sassy and has articles by lots of people I know.

This is what I wrote for it:

There are not that many months that go by without someone asking me why, as a gay man, I choose to work in the church. Now, leaving aside the question of whether any vocation (nurse? teacher? dancer? fool?) is a really a choice, I do know what they mean.

After all, how can a gay man want to work in an institution which, though proclaiming itself to be going heavenward, seems hell-bent on making gay lives a misery?

Of course, life isnâ€™t quite as simple as simple questions seem to suggest. The churches are each themselves a mosaic, a tapestry or a tartan of different colours, moods and temperaments.

Just as you can be fairly sure that not all gay men like Madonna so you can be sure that not all Christians are gay hating protagonists in the culture wars. And then there are those who just love both that Madonna and the Madonna.

Iâ€™m certain about some of the things that I believe about religion but Iâ€™m positively agnostic about others. What about the claim, often made, that gay people are intrinsically spiritual people? I find myself not knowing the answer to that. And yet, the number of LGBT people whom I encounter in faith communities seems to suggest that there might be something in it.

Step by step over the last decades Iâ€™ve seen such people coming together to challenge the status quo from the inside of the religious institutions that they belong to. And in recent months the equal marriage campaign is seeing straight allies from within the churches add their signatures and raise their voices.

They are dearer to me than gold and it is they who convince me that change in the churches is on its way. Some of our straight allies are going through their own coming out process with the pain and worry that coming out seems so often to be associated with. And guess what â€“ congregations are coming out too.

Individual Christians weigh up whether it is worth being out at church and worry they will be badly treated. Similarly, individual congregations are going through agony trying to work out whether to come out to mummy and daddy â€“ the congregational structures whom they want to please but which seem locked into a sexual morality from a generation ago.

Like it or not, religion is not going to disappear overnight. Whilst the dominant discourse of the denominations is against gay rights, all of us are at risk. Whilst churches throw their considerable influence in society against the human rights of LGBT people none of us are safe.

You ask me why I stay? I stay because some things are worth fighting for. Some things are worth changing.

And yet it is more than that. I stay because Iâ€™m nourished in a community of faith which includes people who donâ€™t think as I do. They help me recognise what I think is important. They help to make me whole. They make me who I am.

And I stay because Iâ€™m in the joy business. Once youâ€™ve got used to being paid to peddle joy it is hard to lay it aside. Never mind the privilege of being involved in the intimacies of being with people when their lives are falling apart. I never feel greater faith than when I stand at a grave and I marvel daily at the complex, wonderful stories that I hear from people who are working out how to be completely themselves in a world that is weird, odd and wonderful.

I recently went on a sabbatical trip away from the congregation which I lead in Glasgow.

I travelled in Canada and the USA for three months. I discovered three wonderful truths. Firstly that when I tried to discover the most interesting religious congregations to visit I kept getting referred again and again to places which were led by women and gay men. Secondly, I learnt that though church is the most dreadful thing at an institutional level it is also the most incredible network of kindness and goodwill on the planet. And thirdly I discovered the joy of coming home.

I came out in the church. My coming-out-from-the-pulpit story beats most coming out stories at gay dinner parties hands down though it is a story that Iâ€™ll leave for another day. Having come out in the church I also find it is also the place I come home to.
You ask me why I stay?

It is the place which convinces me to the core of my being that I am utterly, passionately, gloriously loved.

Now, head on over and read the rest of the magazine.

clergy, coming out, LGBT, Mosaic Scotland, priest, St Mary’s Cathedral

23 responses to “What if this is the end of the Eucharist?”

Thomas Scott

06/05/2020

Just noticing here that DGD (of happy memory) seems to have left out of his catalogue of joyous, sad, perilous, and solemn occasions any instance of celebrating during a plague or pestilence. I’m not worried about the mass. The eucharist need not be celebrated as though it were a car battery, as if not offering it now would somehow allow the power to run down. It is not at risk, we are, which I think is your point. The questions asked are worth asking, of course.

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Mo Nicholson

06/05/2020

Mo Nicholson. This is an intriguing discussion and what I would like to add to it is the observation that I have had to learn the hard way that participation in the Eucharist being made impossible in no way diminishes an individual’s ability to worship God or be in fellowship with other believers. I am barred from receiving Holy Communion in the Catholic church because allergies make this impossible for me. The pain induced by this has little to do with feeling separation from God, in fact nothing at all as I do not feel that. It comes from feeling excluded from the community, different sections if which regard it as desirable or tolerable that a member of the community should be excluded in this way. This experience has made me understand as never before that if we place prime value on liturgical celebrations, ir indeed anything else, above charity, compassion, welcome and inclusivity, in other words love, then we have become the sounding gong which St Paul warned against. If we truly believe that God is love, as I do, then it is obvious that it is love for one another which makes us true children of God our Father, and in light of this we could begin to look at these present challenging circumstances as simply an opportunity to love more, to reach out to one another in whatever way possible in the knowledge that this is what actually matters and always did. Only perhaps we were tempted to almost make a fetish of our rituals, sacraments and so on. And perhaps this can show us a better way more adapted to the world we are supposed to serve.

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Lynsay Downs

06/05/2020

You and your conversation with Dave Roberts prompted me to write this. Does it resonate for you?

https://astonishing.community/2020/05/06/conversations-in-coronatide/

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1. Kelvin
  
  06/05/2020
  
  Thanks Lynsay – yes, it does resonate with me very much.
  
  I’ve shared it on facebook. I think it is really helpful.
  
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Fr Keith

06/05/2020

Thanks again for such a thoughtful piece. With the Eucharist central to much of, at least Anglican/Episcopalian, worship in recent generations, we perhaps forget that the Church in these islands was, between the Reformation and the liturgical revivals of the 19th and 20th centuries, sustained by Mattins and Evensong as the regular diet of worship on Sundays. I’m not advocating a return to such times, but there is, as you suggest, work to be done on non-Eucharistic worship (though not defining it as a negative). Thanks again.

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Fenland Boy

07/05/2020

For the record, I’m not in favour of lay presidency at the Eucharist. I believe, for better or worse, in an ordered church.

Why are you concerned about lay Presidency?

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Chuck

08/05/2020

May I say respectfully, lighten up. Many Anglicans/Episcopalians lived on the edges of civilization in the nascent U.S. and various elements of the British Empire. Priests to celebrate the Holy Eucharist and to baptize were seldom seen, at most twice a year in many areas. (Bishops, only every several years.) The Church carried on in this manner decade after decade. If circumstances require, the Church will carry on again despite our profound sense of loss.

I should add, to those who grew up under threat or reality of war, persecution, oppression, famine, other disease, etc, the present difficulty is not unfamiliar in many respects.

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Miriam MacCarthy

08/05/2020

Thank you! It is wonderful to read these serious, personal thoughts about the Eucharist. My feeling is that it has become celebrated to the point of boredom. Church, and what we do in it, is in danger of becoming simply a habit. It could just as well be crackerjack for a fast-asleep congregation. My heresy is that the direction Jesus gave is to “do this in remembrance of me”, and that means everything we eat at any time, whether alone or with others, in thanksgiving. If that is seriously done, it has vastly more meaning. It really gets ones attention and requires preparation. Would not become popular or usual, I predict!

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