Park Hill Congregational UCC
Rev. Dr. David Bahr
June 30, 2019
“If Not for the Drag Queens”
Stonewall at 50
I will hope to assume that everyone has heard of Stonewall. Who has heard of Marsha P. Johnson or Sylvia Rivera?
Malcolm was born in 1945 and at the age of 5, began wearing dresses, but stopped after being teased. After graduation from high school, Marsha went to New York City with a bag of clothes and $15, landing in Greenwich Village, which, although at the time it was one of the most tolerant places for people like her, it didn’t protect them from constant police harassment. Harassment ordered for anyone who didn’t conform to gender or sexual norms. For example, individuals had to be wearing at least three items of clothing that matched your gender.
Isn’t that interestingly specific? Three items of clothing. Not two, not four. And just what would have constituted the clothing of your gender? Real men only wear cotton briefs? And can you even imagine what it would feel like to have the police checking your body for the right clothing and counting out loud? One, two… Or can you imagine being the officer assigned to carry out this particular law, which they did not pass, but for which they were responsible to enforce? By anatomical exam if necessary.
Those were small indignities, however, in the face of the reality that no one would hire someone like Marsha. So, like a lot of the others at the time, Marsha was frequently homeless and often worked as a prostitute to survive. She was religious. She loved Jesus, she said, because, “he is the only man I [can] really trust. He listens to all my problems, and he never laughed at me.”
Marsha was generous to a fault and had a jubilant and open personality. She took in anyone in need. Which is how she met Sylvia Rivera.
Sylvia’s father abandoned her at birth. Her mother killed herself when she was 3. Now living with her grandmother, whenever Sylvia was caught trying on her clothing and makeup, she was beaten. By 11, she ran away and became a child prostitute. That’s when she met Marsha on the street. Marsha had a habit of taking in young people and becoming the mother they never had, offering the stability and love of a home they had never experienced.
Both were at the Stonewall Inn that night 50 years ago, on the night of June 28, 1969, when police raided at 1:20 am, the second time that week alone. Interesting side note. The mob owned most of the gay bars in New York, running them as private clubs because such bars couldn’t get liquor licenses. It was a cash cow for the mob. Some claim that’s why Stonewall was raided that night. But the patrons didn’t care what the reason was. For whatever combination of reasons, this time, they had had enough.
Patrons had never fought back before. Police counted on it. But this time when police hit a black woman named Storme wearing men’s pants, she hit back. They tried three times to push her into the police car. She kept fighting her way out. Someone then yelled to turn over the car. Things escalated from there. Merely taunting the police became throwing coins, then beer cans; then cobblestones scooped out of the street to throw at the bar where police gone in to take refuge; to then pulling a parking meter out of the ground to use as a battering ram to force the door open; to setting trash cans on fire; to throwing lighter fluid and a match into the bar through broken windows. It was a riot.
Inspector Pine was within seconds of ordering his officers to use their guns, but backup finally arrived and began to haul rioters away. But not everyone. Tension remained high. Added by a growing number of people from the neighborhood and other bars who gathered around, all of them unaware that they were witnessing the birth of the modern LGBTQIA+ liberation movement. A riot by queer people. A riot, of course, as Martin Luther King, Jr, reminded us “is simply the language of the oppressed.” “Queer people,” a name now reclaimed by the descendants of those who fought back.
Stonewall wasn’t, however, the first time queer people fought back. There was the “Cooper’s Do-nuts Riot” in LA in 1959. The “Compton’s Cafeteria Riot” in San Francisco in 1966 and the “Sip-In” at Julius’s in New York City. The Cooper’s and Compton’s riots involved the same kind of crowd that gathered at the Stonewall Inn. Racially mixed, mostly poor, men who called themselves drag queens, women who dressed in shirts and trousers, and a collection of people who weren’t welcome anywhere else.
The Sip-In, however, was markedly different. A group of well-dressed gay men challenged the law against serving homosexuals by asking to be served. The bartender denied them, which ultimately led to a court case that overturned the law. One of the first gay rights groups ever formed, the Mattachine Society, in the 1950s, believed in the power of respectability. That kind of contrast over the means and method of social change has roiled in queer and other marginalized communities ever since. Is respectability inherently better?
Stonewall wasn’t a one-night event. Skirmishes continued throughout the weekend and into a sixth day. At “Gay liberation” marches and protests that followed in the days and years after, people like Marsha and Sylvia were pushed off stage. Literally. Things came to a head at the Pride March in 1973 when Sylvia was repeatedly blocked from speaking. When she finally grabbed the microphone, she shouted, “If it wasn’t for the drag queens, there would be no gay liberation movement. We’re the front-liners.”
Sylvia was booed and jeered, and she took the rejection hard. After the speech, she attempted suicide. Marsha found her and saved her life. Sylvia eventually gave up activism but not before she and Marsha co-founded an organization known as STAR: Street Transvestite Action Revolutionaries. Marsha pressed on and continued to mother kids who escaped the brutality of their homes seeking love and acceptance in New York City. In the 1980s she began caring for people with AIDS, disproportionally affecting exactly those same young black and brown people who looked up to her. Her life ended in tragedy when her body was found floating in the Hudson River in 1992. She had been the victim of repeated violent attacks. Police ruled her death a suicide. Friends believe she was murdered. To this day, the case is still open. There is a documentary about Marsha’s death and life on Netflix right now. Sylvia Rivera died in 2002.
New York City announced earlier this month that both will be honored with a monument. It will be among the first such dedications to transgender people in the world. The current statues outside Stonewall Inn, declared a national monument by President Obama, are rightfully criticized for not portraying real heroes like Marsha who was black, Sylvia who was Latinx, both of whom called themselves drag queens.
In the intervening 50 years, so much has changed and so little has changed. Denver’s first Pride event in 1975 was a small gathering. The first parade was the following year. Shari Wilkins was there. She said, “It wasn't much of a parade. But Purnell Steen and his band played on the back of a flatbed truck. Sweet.”
Quite unlike this year’s parade of hundreds of thousands, officially titled “The Coors Light Denver Pride Parade.” Those who have lived in Denver longer than I would testify to that unlikely alliance. Is that social progress or smart marketing? I saw a tiny little hand-printed sign along the parade route this year. “Queer Liberation or Rainbow Capitalism?” It’s nice to have “respectable” businesses show their support. There were hundreds of float entries, including from major banks, dentists, car dealers, insurance and accounting firms, Xcel Energy. But would any of them have allowed Marsha and Sylvia to ride on their elaborate and expensive floats? Indeed, how little has really changed.
Instead, trans women of color like Marsha and Sylvia are still among those most likely to experience violence and death. Rejected youth are still homeless and prostitution is still used as a means of survival. The murder rate for trans women of color is outrageous. Just as I was writing this on Friday morning, news came that Brooklyn Lindsay was found dead in Kansas City, on the same street corner where Tamara Dominguez was murdered four years ago. Last year, while President Bone-Spur was preparing to ban the proud and brave transgender soldiers already serving, 29 trans women of color were murdered.
At the same time, I have to say it feels good to have people want to support you. And for our power to have increased so exponentially. Especially in the United Church of Christ. During seminary in the late 1980s, I went out and spoke to churches who wanted to see a live homosexual. I would allow them to debate my humanity. I let them ask why they should accept me. I listened as they complained that next it will be the pedophiles asking for compassion. After guest preaching one Sunday, a woman walked around me looking me up and down. “I’ve never seen one of you in person before.” She was actually very nice and genuinely curious. If not a little creepy. But it was soon after that I decided to end being the Gay on Parade, declaring the debate over. On the national setting of the UCC, the debate has also been largely settled. At least we thought it was until a new kind of resolution was debated at General Synod this past week in Milwaukee.
Over the last 15-20 years, a significant number of the most conservative UCC churches have left, especially after General Synod declared support for marriage equality in 2005. Though to be fair, conservatives have been leaving since 1948 when they formed a separate denomination called the Conservative Congregational Christian Conference. After 2005, a group remained, however, and organized themselves into the “Faithful and Welcoming Churches” movement to encourage “UCC churches, pastors, and members who consider themselves ECOT (evangelical, conservative, orthodox, or traditional) to remain in the UCC rather than separating.” About 70 churches formally declare this affiliation while, on the other hand, over 1,500 churches have formally declared themselves Open and Affirming – about 1/3 of all congregations. The other 2/3 are on a range from being open and affirming in practice but not name; to ones which simply won’t talk about it for fear their churches would split; to ones who have more in common with folks who call themselves Faithful and Welcoming.
So, a resolution came to General Synod to deny the Faithful and Welcoming folks a booth in the exhibit hall. The reason? Their promotional materials said 1) marriage is reserved for one man and one woman, 2) churches should change their bylaws to disallow practicing homosexuals as clergy and same sex marriages in the church, and 3) use a litmus test in clergy interviews whether they would consent to officiate at same sex ceremonies.
The argument was that if they are banned from the exhibit hall, then attendees would be spared the trauma of encountering their “emotionally and spiritually hurtful” message. Should a denomination whose resolutions call for marriage equality and affirm LGBTQ clergy include space for a group whose values are at odds with that?
But what would that say to conservatives within the church? This is not about letting Focus on the Family have a booth. These are our siblings in the UCC. They came out with a response that included these two statements in particular: “We affirm the civil rights of and believe in an extravagant welcome for LGBTQ persons in the life of church. And we acknowledge with deep regret past and present pain inflicted on LGBTQ persons by self-identified people who are evangelical, conservative, orthodox, and traditional (ECOTs) within and beyond the UCC.” They removed the three objectional items from their website and materials and asked to remain in relationship. At a hearing before debate, the founder offered an apology. It was a stunning reversal.
In advance of formal debate, the Open and Affirming Coalition offered its own written response opposing the exclusion of Faithful and Welcoming Churches, stating that “as a movement and a church, we need to stay in relationship with non-Open and Affirming churches, because otherwise there is no possibility of transformation,” calling for “graceful engagement.”
That did not settle the matter, however. The floor debate was painful as queer youth, in particular, shared very emotional testimonies that the church should be a safe space. The counter-arguments in support of conservatives were often by other LGBT people, including one pastor whose own ordination was subject to painful delays. Ultimately, the matter was tabled and sent to the United Church Board, seeking to craft some alternative, middle ground. Naturally, that was not a satisfactory answer for some who felt that meant we were backing down from our commitments to LGBT people.
My perspective is that it is better for us to stay engaged. I am grateful for the presence of anyone in our denomination who wishes to be in graceful engagement. At this moment in our country’s history, as we struggle to speak to one another across hard lines, we can demonstrate that it is possible. That we are transformed by being in relationship. It is also a sharp contrast with the United Methodist Church right now on the brink of schism because conservatives want to force progressives and moderates out of the church. Very angrily, “just get out already.”
I was pleased that we agreed to a temporary pause. And yet, as we commemorate 50 years of Stonewall, I wonder whether Marsha and Sylvia would agree. Have they been once again sacrificed on an altar of respectability? If marginalized people tell us that they have been hurt, whose voice shall we heed? In the end, conservatives have other options. For many queer people, the UCC is one of only a few places of spiritual refuge. Even then, honestly, how many of our 1,500 Open and Affirming Churches would be comfortable having Marsha or Sylvia speak from the pulpit?
How powerful would it be to hear Marsha testify that Jesus “is the only man I [can] really trust. That he listens to all my problems,” and in particular, “he never laughed at me.”
A final word. The officer who led the police into the Stonewall Inn that night, Inspector Pine, formally apologized for his role, 15 years before the police department gave an official apology. He also said, understanding the power of redemption, the possibility of transformation, “if what I did helped gay people, then I’m glad.” But, nothing would have happened that night if not for the drag queens.
Park Hill Congregational UCC
Rev. Dr. David Bahr
June 2, 2019
“Memo to Franklin Graham”
1st Timothy 2: 1-3 – Common English Bible
First of all, then, I ask that requests, prayers, petitions, and thanksgiving be made for all people. 2 Pray for kings and everyone who is in authority so that we can live a quiet and peaceful life in complete godliness and dignity. 3 This is right and it pleases God our savior.
Franklin Graham called for a nationwide observance of prayer for the president today, Sunday, June 2. So, in response, on Facebook I declared today a day to pray that the country be saved from the President. Or as someone else said better, to pray for the victims of the president.
A woman who follows me on Facebook sent an angry text accusing me of asking people to pray against the president. So, let me be clear. I believe we should pray for the president. That’s a clear instruction in the Book of First Timothy. The question is for what are we praying? For that, we’ll also look at First Timothy.
But first, here is what Graham wrote: “President Trump’s enemies continue to try everything to destroy him, his family, and the presidency. I believe the only hope for him, and this nation, is God. This is a critical time for America. We’re on the edge of a precipice. Time is short. We need to pray for God to intervene. We need to ask God to protect, strengthen, encourage, and guide the President.”
There are things in that statement with which I agree. God’s intervention. God’s guidance. But the not-so-subtle subtext of the declaration is for God to intervene against the president’s “enemies.” To strengthen him against his enemies, who in other settings his supporters have called “demonic.” To use the word “demonic” and “enemies” about fellow citizens is to invite people who are unstable to carry out a righteous crusade for God that includes bloodshed.
In my first sermon after the election I also prayed for intervention. The intervention of the Holy Spirit. Prayer that the “matches of the arsonists won’t light; that the paint of the spray cans malfunction. So that the tongues of bullies are tamed and the spirits of the victims are lifted.” As I said then, my prayer is not for the failure of the president but that our country be saved from the apocalyptic nightmare candidate Donald Trump promised. Promises made. Promises kept.
When the president was first elected, some Episcopalians faced a dilemma. In the Book of Common Prayer, followed by Anglicans around the globe, among the prayers of intercession is a line to pray for the president by name every week, or the leader of the country in which a congregation is praying. That took on new meaning when I worshiped in a church in Thailand that follows the Book of Common Prayer. We prayed for the King of Thailand by name, adding a word of gratitude for the freedom to worship. But among the responses to the 2016 election was a parish in California that refused to say the name Donald because, the priest explained, his name is “literally a trauma trigger to some people.” Debate ensued.
Michael Curry is the presiding bishop of the Episcopal Church in America. He made history as the first African American presiding bishop. But Prince Harry and Meghan Markle made him famous with his powerful sermon on love at their wedding. About this controversy over prayer he wrote: “I grew up in a historically black congregation in the Episcopal Church. We prayed for leaders who were often lukewarm or even opposed to our very civil rights. We got on our knees in church and prayed for them. And then we got up off our knees and we Marched on Washington. Following the way of Jesus, we prayed and protested at the same time. We prayed for our leaders who were fighting for our civil rights, we prayed for those with whom we disagreed, and we even prayed for those who hated us. And we did so following in the way of Jesus whose way is of unselfish, sacrificial love. And that way is the way that can set us all free.”
He added, “Prayer is not a simplistic cheer or declaration of support. Prayers of lament [,for example,] cry out in pain and cry for justice.” When we pray for the president, we are actually praying for our nation. As another person said, “Prayer is not endorsement. It is a plea to God for change.”
And yet, the question remained, must we use his name? People have argued that we should say “45” instead of Trump. Or simply say the “Occupant of the White House.” Or, following in the form of Voldemort in the Harry Potter novels, “You-Know-Who” or “He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.”
But the Gospel of Luke and the Book of Acts, also written by Luke, refer to the ruling authorities by name all the time. The Roman Emperors Augustus, Tiberius, and Claudius. Quirinius, the governor of Syria. Herod the Great – who was really awful. Herod Antipas – who was even worse. Pontius Pilate, the governor of Judea. One commentator observed that without grounding prayer in that kind of specific reality, it is just vague piety. Names represent reality.
Whether we speak the name or not, the author of First Timothy is certainly clear: “I ask that requests, prayers, petitions, and thanksgiving be made for all people. Pray for kings and everyone who is in authority.” Another translation ups the word “ask” and says “I urge you to pray” for them. Please note, however, the prayer is not for God to intervene on behalf of the king, emperor, or president to prevail over his enemies.
So maybe in the Old Testament when religion and the governing authorities were the same thing, prayers might have included the vanquishing of one’s enemies, but we are reminded that there were also times when religion and state were not the same thing, such as when the Israelites were in Babylon and the prophet Jeremiah told the exiles to “seek the peace and prosperity of the city to which I have carried you into exile, because if it prospers, you will prosper too.” Which is certainly one reason we shouldn’t pray against any one.
But for what does this text ask us to pray? “That we may live a quiet and peaceful life in complete godliness and dignity.” Sounds nice. I’d like some peace and quiet out of Washington. But what does that mean? Or perhaps a better question is to ask first: what did it mean then?
Because it’s important to know a little something about the rest of the first letter to Timothy. The letter itself claims to have been written by Paul, but that is highly unlikely. Scholars date it to approximately the year 125, long after the death of Paul and other first-generation followers of Jesus. By that time, the concerns of the early Christians changed from being a radical movement to an institution. First Timothy is full of concerns for the institutionalization of the church – describing the qualifications of bishops and deacons and regulating the conduct and even dress of the congregations.
It is also here that we get such problematic texts as “women must keep silence in the church” and how only “worthy” widows should receive assistance from the church. Women here are told their salvation is found in child-bearing. The author also commands the obedience of slaves to their masters. If your master is a Christian, you should want to be an even better slave.
Within this context of six short chapters, we start to get a better idea of what the author means to pray for kings and other authorities. It’s a radical departure from the early Christians who practiced an unusual form of equality among “Jew and Gentile, male and female, slave and free,” as written in the letter to the Galatians. Paul describes women as equals in spreading the gospel and leading the church. Women like Tabitha were disciples. Paul commended Phoebe, describing her as a leader of the church. Priscilla. Junia, an apostle. Junia landed in jail for her role as a church leader. Paul celebrated these and other women whose names I don’t want to try to pronounce in front of you.
But it seems like the farther the church got from Jesus and Paul, the more it adopted the culture around it. Or, rather, accommodated itself to patriarchal culture around it. So that men wouldn’t have to explain any more why they weren’t like “real men.”
Throughout First Timothy, the quiet and peaceful and dignified context of the church was described as a “household.” Household sounds nice, except when what that really means is that the man is back at the top of the order. Quietness through repression. Peace through hierarchical order. The way the emperors ruled the Roman Empire. Could Jesus have really wanted that to happen among his followers? Or the “real” Paul?
First Timothy speaks nothing of grace, another clue that this isn’t Paul. The word love is almost completely missing.
I had previously understood the instruction for women to keep silent in the church as simply the description of a problem that women kept yelling over at their husbands during worship to explain what was being said. I bought into the explanation that they should talk later. But the real “problem” was that men were tired of women exercising leadership and wanted it to stop. To bring about peace and quiet.
Franklin Graham cites the First Timothy text we read today in his call to pray for the president. What is the quiet and peaceful life in complete godliness and dignity that he seeks? A world of:
I totally agree with Franklin Graham on one point: “I believe the only hope for the president, and this nation, is God. This is a critical time for America. We’re on the edge of a precipice. Time is short. We need to pray for God to intervene.”
In Fiddler on the Roof, the rabbi was asked whether there was a proper blessing for the Czar. The rabbi answered, “A blessing for the Czar? Of course! May God bless and keep the Czar … far away from us!”
But seriously, for what should we pray? The Book of Common Prayer includes this Prayer for the President: “Grant to the President of the United States, the Governor of this State, and to all in authority, wisdom and strength to know and do your will. Fill them with the love of truth and righteousness, and make them ever mindful of their calling to serve this people in your fear.” And so as I believe we should, for our president, Donald Trump, we pray.
That’s prayer #19. Prayer #18, a prayer for our country, comes first. Dear God, “Save us from violence, discord, and confusion; from pride and arrogance, and from every evil way. Defend our liberties, and fashion into one united people the multitudes brought hither out of many kindreds and tongues. Endue with the spirit of wisdom those to whom in thy Name we entrust the authority of government, that there may be justice and peace at home…”
These words were not written yesterday, though they could have been. Although if it were written yesterday they would have hopefully clarified the words “multitudes brought hither out of many kindreds and tongues.” That’s about as clear as Robert Mueller press conference. The prayer is closer to the quote by Emma Lazarus on the Statue of Liberty:
“Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, the wretched refuse of your teeming shore. Send these, the homeless, tempest-tossed to me, I lift my lamp beside the golden door!” Many kindreds and tongues? Many nations, races, and languages.
Bishop Curry said, “We got on our knees in church and prayed for [our leaders]. And then we got up off our knees and we Marched on Washington. Following the way of Jesus, we prayed and protested at the same time. We prayed for our leaders who were fighting for our civil rights, we prayed for those with whom we disagreed, and we even prayed for those who hated us. And we did so following in the way of Jesus whose way is of unselfish, sacrificial love. And that way is the way that can set us all free.”
That’s my prayer. Can I get an Amen?
 An excellent source of information is from The Women’s Bible Commentary, section written by Joanna Dewey. Also see Marcus J. Borg, Evolution of the Word: The New Testament in the Order the Books Were Written
 The Women’s Bible Commentary
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