Gary Nixon & Mel White
Photo courtesy of Sean Hiller, Press Telegram.
I continue a series of
personal reflections on the LGBT Christian movement that is posting each
Wednesday of June, Pride Month, extended to the first week of July, given my post on Orlando. For those unfamiliar with this blog, be assured that I will
return to other topics next month!
Yes,
the title is a play on the title of Rev. Mel White’s “coming out” book, Stranger at the Gate, which changed so
many lives and landed him on 60 Minutes.
But
when he came into my church office claiming to ghostwrite for many of the major
evangelical Christian celebrities, I have to admit my first thought was that
here was another gay man with delusions of grandeur. Only they weren’t
delusions.
He
told me of his work almost confessionally, but he did not seek absolution so
much as understanding and conversation as to his next steps. He believed his
work moderated the tone of what each wrote about homosexuality. His subsequent
memoir also explained that at least a couple of those who breathed fire upon
LGBT people did so disingenuously, to raise money and their media profile.
Several knew they had gay people on their staffs and valued their work.
I
also learned the truth about at least some ghostwriting. An “author” might give
Mel a few pages of notes about an intended book and let him run with it. Mel
did the heavy-lifting, but the “author” got the glory and the bigger check. He
did well, but not so well that when sent a first class airplane ticket he wouldn’t
cash it in and fly economy to better support his family.
This
was the beginning of a beautiful friendship. He and his partner Gary Nixon had
visited West Hollywood Presbyterian Church, where I served from 1977 to 1987 as
founding director of the Lazarus Project, a ministry of reconciliation between
the church and the LGBT community. It was toward the end of my tenure that
we met, and my then partner, George Lynch, and I became friends with Mel and
Gary.
We
liked hanging out with them because both included George in our conversations.
George and I had endured the irritating habit of people addressing me rather
than him, given my various roles, though he had more education in religion and
a longer commitment to the Presbyterian Church! (He had been “outed” on his way
to ordination in the “southern stream,” the Presbyterian Church, U.S., in which
he had been born and raised.)
I
have been blessed with partners who were always more computer savvy than me,
and it was George and Mel I thanked in the acknowledgments for bringing me into
the computer age with my second book, Come Home: Reclaiming Spirituality and Community as Gay Men and Lesbians. Mel
lent me his old computer, which worked fine until the ninth chapter, which kept
disappearing before my eyes, forcing me three times to write it again one long
evening! The next day I went to a discount store and bought my first computer.
But
I’m getting ahead of the story. I typed my first book, Uncommon Calling, on an IBM Selectric Mel
had given me, and showed the manuscript to Henri Nouwen, who because of his
closeted state could offer advice but no publishing connections, and to Mel
White, who liked the book and gave it to his wife, Lyla, to read. She “loved”
the book and took me to a fancy lunch to celebrate, as she was an acquisitions
editor for Harper & Row’s religion division in San Francisco.
Lyla
passed it on to them with a high recommendation for publishing it, but the
manuscript was summarily returned to me rather than to her, not the protocol,
by what Mel and Lyla surmised was a homophobic and closeted homosexual editor.
Six months of trying other publishing houses made me so frustrated I submitted
it again to Harper & Row, explaining it had been declined but asking it to
be reconsidered, and got a favorable reply from editor Jan Johnson, who had not
seen it when it came through the house earlier. She had just edited John
Fortunato’s AIDS: The Spiritual Dilemma.
Mel
made a huge splash when his own book appeared in 1994, becoming a media sensation,
including the stint on 60 Minutes,
which ended with the interviewer asking the inane “magic pill” question: “If
there were a magic pill that you could take to make you straight, would you?”
After
the interview, I called Mel in Texas to congratulate him. He asked me if I
thought he had lost fellow LGBT activists in saying “yes” to the magic pill
question. I said absolutely not, that it
was a stupid question anyway, and that he had replied honestly, which is all
that is required of us.
A few years later, I was a guest in Mel and Gary’s home in Laguna,
California, when both of us were speaking to an LGBT Christian conference in
that seaside town. Mel received word that a huge shipment from India had
arrived: everything Mahatma Gandhi had ever written. It was the beginning of
Soul Force, the latest chapter in Mel White’s life.
Given
that our finest times with Mel and Gary were often along the shore in Laguna,
it pleases me to have a happy ending to this post. They now live in Long Beach
near George Lynch and his spouse, Louie Tamantini, meeting for dinners and
together attending last fall’s Pride celebration in Palm Springs. I only wish I
could’ve joined them!
That All May Freely
Serve recently made available a video of my personal account of the movement (11
minutes).
Earlier posts in this
series:
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Photo copyright © 2008 by Sean Hiller.
Copyright © 2016 by Chris R. Glaser.
Permission granted for non-profit use with attribution of author, photographer,
and blogsite. Other rights reserved.
Stories like yours and Mel White's and the "strategy" of SoulForce helped me live a more kind and hopeful life than if I had not found yous guys (or ya'll). Thanks. And the video of you telling of your "torturous" (to me) path in the Presbyterian Church blows me away because you do not seem bitter and you persevered and kept loving.
ReplyDeleteThanks,Chuck.I have had bitter moments, but to hold on to bitterness requires too much energy and saps my spirit. And I've had many wonderful moments and friendships along the way.
DeleteThanks, Chris. I am glad you kept moving and going. You certainly did not waste it all. I am glad you participate so much in healing.
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