My husband and I rock up every Sunday to church. Sure, we are barred from preaching, we are excluded from all meaningful leadership positions, and I have lost count of the number of times we have been made to feel deeply ashamed of our very presence. But this week we, along with our strongest allies, have finally been asked to leave, and by none other than our own archbishop, Glenn Davies. Why? Because we are those who have found deep beauty in the blessing of gay and lesbian marriages, and we long for others to share in this joy.
From his address, it’s hard to discern whether he is ousting individuals or those dioceses that have made moves to bless same-sex marriage, but ultimately there is no difference – if an entire region is blacklisted for pursuing something we hold dear, what message does that send me? Needless to say, his words have a deep impact, and I am, all things considered, exhausted.
Bracing myself for this battle once again puts my marriage directly in the line of fire, and left reeling like the wounded soldier who never asked for this war. I’m tired of defending my existence, tired of fighting for my place at the table. Many have suggested I count my losses and leave, but yet I stay. Why? This is the question I am now, more than ever, asking myself.
It’s safe to say that Davies is in many ways acting defensively and out of fear. His interpretation of scripture has him believing that to bless same-sex marriage is to bless sin, with sin being the very thing that separates humanity from God. The stakes are high. He fears the barrage that has led to an unprecedented acceptance of same-sex marriage in the very pews he is trying to protect. His team is, by many counts, losing.
Davies is not acting in isolation, nor is he entirely unreasonable. In fact, he is acting wholly consistent within his belief system. I should know, I believed and taught the same thing for years, during which time I deeply lamented the headway that LGBTQIA+ affirming leaders were making, distorting the purity of the church. I believed, in every way, that my condemnations came from a place of love.
I had bought into the false narrative of “gay versus God.” It is a narrative of faithful saints buttressing the truth before being socially martyred for refusing to capitulate to culture. It has on its side the weight of history and a simplistic understanding of the Bible, in much the same way that the institution of slavery appealed to the masses for centuries by its simple, “plain” reading of certain texts.
However, here stand I. Gay, married to a man, unashamedly Christian, and unapologetically Anglican. Like many Christians around the world, I read widely, thought deeply, and came to a different conclusion to this traditional interpretation. Herein lies the rub: we have no intention of leaving, at least not just yet, because these people are our family, and, believe it or not, we have grown quite fond of them.
In fact, here in the Anglican church I have come to find much beauty – I see a spirit of generosity, I see a love of the biblical text in all of its complexity and ancient wisdom, I experience transcendence and intimacy both with my fellow humans and with the divine. In a society marred with loneliness I find myself surrounded by kindred spirits who are radically committed to carrying one another through life’s darkest moments. Sure, there are those who can easily depart the building, but I am not one of them.
The words of this archbishop have caused immense pain because they demonstrate a total unwillingness to learn from the experiences of LGBTQIA+ affirming voices. Archbishop, now is not the time for you to tell us to get up and leave; now is the time for you to sincerely listen to the voices that are right here, in your midst, seeking to bring about real growth within the church we both love so dearly. Surely this calls for a season of deep listening, of humble learning, and willingness to re-examine long held assumptions.
And to my LGBTQIA+ siblings, let me remind you that you have a place at this table. You are welcome in the church, because Davies does not get to call the shots on who is in, and who is out – that privilege is reserved for someone far above the archbishop’s pay grade. So I will stay, because I am hopeful that slowly, we will learn to listen, to sit in difference, and to stand united by our deep love.
• Joel Hollier is a University of Sydney PhD candidate, Sydney Anglican, and former pastor. He is the author of A Place at His Table: A Biblical Exploration of Faith, Sexuality and the Kingdom of God
