EDITORIAL
Toward a Genuine Conversation on Homosexuality

Michael A. King

First a word of explanation to the many readers of DreamSeeker Magazine who are not Anabaptist-Mennonites: This is a particularly inhouse issue! I hope that won’t be overly off-putting, but I want to recognize it upfront as part of stressing that the vision for DSM very much includes welcoming and serving readers from a broad range of communities and perspectives.

But now the topic is homosexuality, and Mennonites are barely managing to discuss this inflammatory issue within inhouse circles, much less take into account and appreciate the viewpoints of those in the larger Christian community and beyond. For example, much of how homosexuality is being handled within Mennonite Church USA (the denomination to which all the writers in this issue belong) involves the specifics of denominational statements, history, policies, and institutional structures.

This is why, rather than force artificial breadth of style on the writers, in editing this issue I tolerated more inhouse writing than normal. I hope those of you from other communities will be willing to wade through and possibly learn from how Mennonites are wrestling with this issue—provided it’s clear we’ll aim to move back to less inhouse processing in coming issues.

Now to how the Winter 2006 issue of DSM came to be. This special issue was not originally supposed to exist. The idea was to incorporate, within an otherwise standard collection of DSM articles on various topics, two or three articles on homosexuality, one by Weldon Nisly and one or two by the denominational officials who suspended his ministerial credentials for performing a same-sex ceremony.

I had devoted my dissertation, which became Fractured Dance: Gadamer and a Mennonite Conflict Over Homosexuality (Pandora Press U.S., 2001), to study of and reporting on how Mennonites have been able—and perhaps more often unable—to understand each other across differences when discussing homosexuality. This has kept me ever interested in what we can learn from how we think and talk about this issue.

So what better case study, I thought, than to invite both Weldon and those who had disciplined him into sharing the blood, sweat, and tears of their stands, so that even if we disagreed with one or the other, we could begin to grasp the journeys of integrity that had led to such different decisions.

I was delighted to receive quick confirmation of interest from Weldon and eventually his article, now published here. I hope regardless of perspective, readers may be able at least to agree that Weldon has offered a passionate, thought-provoking, and stirring statement of his position and how and why he has come to hold it. Whether one sees Weldon’s stand as one of willfull rebellion, faithful dissent, or a mix, I hope many of us may agree that Weldon’s readiness to practice what he so eloquently preaches deserves serious engagement.

Meanwhile I was disappointed that all the key denominational decision-makers involved in the decision to suspend Weldon’s credentials felt unable to proceed.

Now what? The vision was never simply to publish—and by doing so implicitly affirm—only Weldon’s perspective. Rather, the hope was to catalyze a genuine conversation, from multiple points of view, within which authors modeled ability to respect and learn from each other even in disagreement.

My own history had shaped that vision and affected the shape this issue of DSM finally took. In the 1980s, as pastor at Germantown Mennonite Church (GMC), I found myself at a juncture similar to Weldon’s. The congregation and I had reached consensus that GMC should consider accepting gay and lesbian members because the risk of clouding the gospel by too quickly rejecting categories of people as sinners was greater than the risk of offering too much grace.

However, it soon became clear that this stand could lead to catastrophic conflict with Franconia Conference (FC), one of the denominational bodies to which we were accountable. I was among the many at GMC who came to feel we must explore ways for GMC to offer grace while remaining accountable to and learning from the more traditional FC stand.

I remember taking a long walk during which I realized that I was at roughly the juncture Weldon more recently reached—but didn’t have the clarity of call to move forward outside of accountability to Franconia.

I also remember one of the most painful conversations I’ve had with a congregant. When he learned of my decision, he told me that, like Moses, I was too flawed to lead the people all the way to the Promised Land.

It took me years—and I’m still mid-journey—to work through what my call was if not to step off the precipice and lead self or congregation into excommunication from the denomination (as did happen to GMC in 1997, eight years after I left). My human frailties ever cloud my ability to be sure I’ve heard the call correctly, so I keep listening to the voice of the Spirit and refining my understandings, but the clearest sense I’ve been able to get is that my call is to support genuine conversations across differences.

So I’m not Weldon, as I might have been. Nor am I a denominational official disciplining pastors like Weldon. Instead I’m an editor dreaming of ways we might do better, amid our bitter battles, at hearing each other—and as a result mutually growing in knowledge, wisdom, and understanding of truth.

This is why I couldn’t simply publish Weldon’s story and imply he had walked the right path, whereas any who disagreed were walking a wrong path. So when those who had disciplined him declined to tell their stories, I cast around for other ways to make Weldon’s story part of a larger discussion that (1) held his type of perspective accountable to other perspectives yet (2) also invited those who disagree with Weldon to take seriously that there may be something to learn from a courageous pastor willing to pay such a price for his convictions.

The result is this special issue of DreamSeeker Magazine, devoted to a conversation on homosexuality. Is the conversation genuine? The reader will have to decide.

My own evaluation is that it could have been even more genuine. The writers tend to do what we all, including myself, do: take a stand and aim to make it persuasive. This is one key move in genuine conversation, as I understand it: to make as clear as I can why I hold this position and why you might find in it treasure to value in your own quest for truth.

But I’d wish for even more evidence of writers able to make the other core move I see as characterizing genuine conversation. This is to see the value in the other’s view and to grow in my own understandings by incorporating as much of the other’s perspective as I can without losing the integrity of my own convictions. Also many writers have been reluctant to engage Weldon directly, regardless of their perspective.

Still I at least spy welcome instances of ability to grow in understandings, as I’ll address soon in commenting on what I see in each article. And I hope the very act of asking these multiple understandings to jostle against each other between the covers of this one issue of DSM at least points to what can happen if we start to talk across our differences and not just to people who think like we do.

Before turning to the articles themselves, I want to offer a challenge based on what I learned from trying to put this issue together: Let’s work harder in the Mennonite church to provide safe spaces for genuine conversations about homosexuality or other controversial issues.

I say this because I was troubled to learn how wary people are of speaking on homosexuality. I began to sense that wariness in the responses of the officials who had disciplined Weldon. Their reasons for not writing I can respect and understand. I might well be equally unwilling to write my story if in their shoes. Still I was saddened to encounter their belief that it would do neither them nor their denomination any good to share the flesh-and-blood journeys that led to their decision.

Then I was saddened again by the reactions of many authors I contacted as potential contributors to this special issue. Again and again they declined to appear in print on grounds that it would be too damaging to them or others. These authors, noted leaders and scholars of both genders, were frequently themselves saddened by the inability to comment they were relaying, because it was at a conscious price to their own souls.

Such reactions seem to hint at how terribly the church cramps some of its leaders by implying or even stating that good leaders are those who don’t rock the boat, don’t stir things up, emphasize peace and harmony—and leave the wrestlings on the really painful issues to others, maybe the retired pastors or theologians.

Now the stereotype might be that such leaders are radicals keeping undercover the lack of support for denominational teachings that might damage their careers. Maybe in some instances this is true.

Yet I experienced matters as more complex. The very act of wanting to discuss homosexuality tends to be viewed as radical—why do you want to talk about it if not to change things? Thus if genuine conversation was the goal, I had to make sure many conservative writers were represented. But I found I had to approach writers I saw as more traditional by about a three-to-one ratio to ensure their views were reasonably present. Despite the fact that they would be speaking with and not against the grain of current Mennonite teachings, they were reluctant to speak up.

Why? Partly, I believe, because in fact some may see little value in opening up a discussion they think should stay closed—since the church has already arrived at the right position. But also partly because they didn’t want to be mired in the swamp of charges and counter-charges they too felt they’d begin to drown in if they put their views on record.

My challenge to those who want the discussion on homosexuality to stay closed, whether for reasons of theology or not getting in trouble, is three-fold:

First, will this in the end work? The issue is still alive among us. It’s not going away. I won’t be surprised if at some point it resurges with new intensity partly because the church has not found ways to routinize discussion of homosexuality instead of making it taboo. Making it taboo then gives it the energy of the forbidden. And that energy is not put to redemptive use but driven underground, where it may at some point lead to unpredictable and explosive effects.

Second, does refusal to converse, even if one believes the church has already found its final stand, fit the teachings of Scripture? "Always be ready to make your defense to anyone who demands from you an accounting for the hope that is in you; yet do it with gentleness and reverence," teaches 1 Peter 15-16.

Third, does not engaging in conversation actually place the Mennonite church in violation of its own formal commitment to continue a dialogue on homosexuality?

And this takes me at last to comment on the articles in this issue of DSM, because Loren Johns, both in the reprint of his article included here and in a range of additional materials available on his website, helps highlight the full range of what formal Mennonite statements on homosexuality call for. The teaching position of the Mennonite Church USA (and Canada), as Loren rightly highlights, is that full expression of sexuality is reserved for heterosexual marriage. But that same teaching position also clearly calls for ongoing loving dialogue—or the type of genuine conversation I’m looking for.

I was startled when, as part of reviewing Loren’s article, I went back to the original wording of a key statement shaping the teaching position of MC USA. (The statement, adopted at Purdue, Indiana, in 1987 by one denominational stream, is similar to a 1996 Saskatoon, SK statement of another denominational stream. The streams have since merged to become MC USA and Mennonite Church Canada.) I was startled to see how clearly it calls for ongoing conversation amid awareness that more truth is yet to be discerned.

After teaching that sexual expression belongs in heterosexual marriage, the Purdue statement says this:

We covenant with each other to mutually bear the burden of remaining in loving dialogue with each other in the body of Christ, recognizing that we are all sinners in need of God’s grace and that the Holy Spirit may lead us to further truth and repentance. We promise compassion and prayer for each other that distrustful, broken, and sinful relationships may experience God’s healing.

We covenant with each other to take part in the ongoing search for discernment and for openness to each other. As a part of the nurture of individuals and congregations we will promote congregational study of the complex issues of sexuality, through Bible study and the use of materials such as Human Sexuality in the Christian Life.

DreamSeeker Magazine is one small outlet for conversation and discernment. As a private entrepreneurial venture, it has no formal standing in denominational structures. Still I hope this special issue exemplifies what it can look like to take seriously that "we covenant with each other to take part in the ongoing search for discernment and for openness to each other."

Then we move on to an article that does perhaps have something closer to formal denominational standing, an editorial by Everett Thomas, editor of The Mennonite, the official denominational magazine of MC USA. Along with Loren’s article, Everett’s is included because it helps set the stage for the conversation that follows.

The key contribution I see Everett as making is this: He highlights the complexities involved in adopting and experiencing as a living document a confession of faith. He helps us grasp that the current Confession of Faith in a Mennonite Perspective reflects "both eternal creed and carefully crafted consensus."

As I fallibly interpret this, Everett means that Mennonites need to respect the Confession as the best statement Mennonites currently have regarding how the will of God and the teachings of Christ and Scripture are implemented in the church. Thus no individual Mennonite or congregation dare flippantly disregard the Confession’s teachings.

Still the document is a human one, reflecting the particular times and people shaping it; thus over time there will be continuing growth in understanding that will lead some day to fresh consensus and a new confession, as has happened often before in Mennonite history.

As relates to homosexuality, then, today’s church consensus reflected in the Confession, along with such related statements as Purdue/Saskatoon, must be honored as articulating the teaching position of the church today. At the same time, there is space for provisional and informal conversation regarding how the passing of time and ongoing hearing of the Holy Spirit may shape the emerging consensus of future generations.

The hope is for the conversation here to unfold within those parameters, meaning (1) in respect for the current teaching position of the church and (2) in awareness that we must ponder generation by generation what the Spirit is teaching us today—otherwise we would all still be practicing our Christianity as if in a first-century (or earlier) time bubble.

That leads naturally into what C. Norman Kraus wants to do, which is to confront what we do when in fact we don’t live and think precisely as biblical writers did yet want to be shaped by their understandings and teachings. As Norman puts it, "The problematic is not so much one of historical and philological investigation as of authentic contextual application to vastly different cultures today."

I take him to mean that among challenges of taking the Bible seriously millennia after it was written are these: (1) how we avoid being sidetracked by details of biblical cultural practices that may no longer be meaningful in our changed times so we can (2) emphasize receiving guidance from the core values of the biblical writers, whatever the details of any implementation.

Thus for example Norman wonders, What if the key issue isn’t precisely which gender is doing the sexual behaving but rather whether the behavior fulfills the core scriptural expectations that such expression will be loving and faithful rather than promiscuous or exploitative?

But lest anyone be lulled into unthinking agreement with Norman’s insights, John Roth raises concerns. These emerged because, to Norman’s credit, Norman solicited them. Then I proposed publication of John’s reply. I did so not to demolish Norman—who in turn has raised concerns about John’s critique in a further response to John—but because publishing the two pieces together helps show what bringing different viewpoints into direct contact can look like.

As I review Norman versus John, I’m reminded that if core ingredients of genuine conversation include persuasively articulating one’s own case along with learning from the other’s case, any writing—including my own—will be open to critique. Because who can know precisely what the right steps are when we enter that complex and delicate dance of aiming simultaneously to honor our own and another’s perspective.

Turning to the specifics of John’s critique, first John does make a commendable effort to note how, even if primarily in disagreement, he can learn from Norman. Then he moves to the worries. For one, is Norman wanting the other to hear him empathetically without doing unto others what he wants done to himself? Given my own emphasis on genuine conversation, I believe John rightly wants to make sure the call to listen is intended for oneself, not just the other.

Then John also wonders, When is enough enough? When can the church say it has spoken on an issue, and expect those who disagree to cease their dissent?

Here his thinking dovetails with views of Everett Thomas in his second reprinted editorial on "Rules Help Discernment." Everett in fact celebrates that the church is working well, because it kept its rules clearly in view when faced with Weldon’s case and so was able efficiently and commendably to suspend his credentials.

I see both John’s and Everett’s points. As a pastor, I weary of second- and third-guessing after I’ve done the best I know to reach wise discernment on a congregational issue. Yet I fear they could also be read as suggesting that even such a conversation as this one unfolding in DSM is somehow disloyal to the denomination.

And I worry that they make no clear provision for faithful dissent. When I review church history, I see a perennial mix of fallibility and faithfulness. Repeatedly the church heads blindly and even willfully down what turns out in hindsight to have been a wrong path. Then repeatedly it turns out that at least some dissenters were so dogged because they were rightly seeing that God was calling the church a different way.

Given such history, I hope we can balance wanting church teachings to command respect with recognizing that dissenters from such teachings may (1) be willfully rebellious but may also (2) be the prophets of the truth the rest of us can’t yet see.

Next come Mary Schertz, Paul Lederach, and Ruth Weaver. I’ll say little about them because I’ve already said it in so many other ways as part or exploring the nature of genuine conversation. I’ll simply risk favoritism by noting that I see them as powerfully exemplifying the effects of engaging in such conversation. As they each report, their views continue to change and grow as they seek to take seriously even perspectives with which they once disagreed.

Then just as Paul Lederach’s final words are ringing spine-tinglingly forth— "In Christ Jesus neither heterosexuality nor homosexuality counts for anything"—here comes Marlin Jeschke, who has devoted much of his equally long life to thinking through and publishing wise writings on a variety of matters often related to church discipline. The conclusion Marlin’s life and thought have brought him to is that "heterosexual relationships constitute the norm."

I worry that Marlin reaches this conclusion without confronting as fully as Paul Lederach and other writers in this issue that whatever one considers the norm, reality has a way of being more complicated than the norm. We risk simply reaffirming norms rather than finding creative new tools for engaging those aspects of reality that don’t fit norms. Confronting what doesn’t fit the heterosexuality norm is how Paul Lederach reaches such a daring paraphrase of Galatians.

On the other hand, I flinch from the conclusion of some that we know enough about human sexuality to decide in a few short years that a norm widely affirmed by most civilizations and religions throughout human history should just be jettisoned. I at least was unaware of homosexuality as a significant issue until I was already, in the 1970s, a young adult. Now I’m aging quickly but still middle-aged. Is that brief span, during which the core of public debate over homosexuality emerged, long enough for us to gain sufficient wisdom to overturn heterosexuality as norm?

That day may come, yet I suspect we need to test far longer than we have what it will do to marriages, families, children, and the entire human race if we simply jettison the norm. Marlin helps us remember why we need to take the time to discern wisely.

Finally Gerald Biesecker-Mast offers his "deconstructive" commentary on the entire range of writings and finds not only on the lines of what is said but between the lines of what is not said much to ponder, much to question, much to be grateful for as he helps us imagine our way toward "a coming body" that in Christ is neither male nor female. —Michael A. King