Our group at Creative Camp.
This
past Sunday I stumbled offering the Moment for Mindfulness at Ormewood Church
about the 50th anniversary of the Stonewall uprising. I had
originally planned to do it from notes, but decided to write it out so I would
say precisely what I intended briefly. But I momentarily lost my place, I guess
because I rarely do public speaking these days.
But
I did get in my thought that the several-day-and-night 1969 resistance of drag
queens, people of color and LGBT folk to the harassing bar raids of New York
City police officers served as a “foundational myth” of our present-day movement. As such,
it’s been useful for political and, I’d say, spiritual organizing and
mobilization.
Yet
our contemporary movement did not begin there. In the U.S., it began long before when
Phyllis Lyon and Del Martin founded the Daughters of Bilitis in 1955, a lesbian
activist group. It
began in 1964 with the foundation of the Council on Religion
and the Homosexual in San Francisco. It began nine months before Stonewall when the Rev. Troy Perry
and 12 brave souls founded Metropolitan Community Church in 1968. It began
with the work of people like Bayard Rustin, Christine Jorgensen, Barbara
Gittings, Frank Kameny, and many more, as well as multiple social, political, and religious groups building an activist base. This is true in other nations as well.
All
resistance movements, however, can trace their roots to ancient times, to yes,
even biblical times. Our pastor, Jenelle Holmes, gave an artful sermon on
Rizpah’s resistance, protecting the bodies of her dead sons (2 Samuel 3:7;
21:1-14), drawing parallels to Matthew Shepard’s mother, Judy Shepard, creating
a foundation that helped pass hate crimes legislation, Emmett Till’s mother,
Mamie Till, insisting on an open coffin so the world could see his battered
body, lynched after he was falsely accused of flirting with a white woman, and last
week’s photograph of a drowned Salvadoran migrant, Oscar Alberto Martínez Ramírez and his 23-month-old daughter, Angie Valeria, on
the shores of the Rio Grande River.
I
can’t recall Jenelle “losing it” in a sermon, but tears came as she approached its
final page. And she wasn’t the only one. She turned it into an occasion for
lament, and instead of our usual small group discussions, provided three holy
spaces for our responses: one with candles to light for lives lost to
injustice, another with prayers for justice we could read silently to God, and one
for writing cards to legislators expressing our grief for lives lost in our
country due to injustice. Many visited more than one of the three stations.
A
few weeks ago, we held a “Creative Camp,” Ormewood Church’s version of Vacation
Bible School, for our own and our neighbors’ children. I helped with the 2-4-year-olds,
all boys, and I saw where notions of “Original Sin” as well as “Original
Innocence” came from! Yet I was moved by their willingness to buy into the
program, so to speak, though our most prolonged conversation was about farts,
ha!
The
experience no doubt prepared me to be moved, at the end of the service honoring
the ripples of Rizpah’s resistance, when Jenelle’s nine-year old daughter,
Darcy, presented me with the artwork to the right, depicting my
partner and me. I learned later she had done the same for a lesbian couple in
the congregation, Ceej and Cathie. I lost it. Tears of grief, of gratitude, of
hope. 
She represents for me the children of Stonewall and more broadly, the children of the Kingdom of God.
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