Gay-friendly church (photo by Drama Queen)

Last October, retired Episcopal Bishop John Shelby Spong wrote a manifesto declaring his unwillingness to keep publicly debating the issue of LGBT inclusion with conservatives who oppose inclusion on religious grounds. The manifesto is strong, clear, and bold. LGBT people of faith should be grateful to have (to have had?) such a powerful ally on our side.

But I’m not writing to Bishop Spong. I am writing to the rest of us, for whom there is no rest. We who continue to labor in the field for a harvest of LGBT religious inclusion need our own manifesto, especially those of us who are ourselves LGBT. We need some stirring words as we confront opportunities to clarify our position, to witness to our basic humanity, and to demonstrate empirically that faith informs our life as strongly as it informs the lives of those who witness against us. Here are a few words – perhaps not stirring, but intended as a small start, one that can be built upon by many others:

“We LGBT religious inclusionists pursue inclusion because we have gifts to offer and to receive, a world to heal and to celebrate, a hope that has neither been dashed nor yet entirely fulfilled. We pursue inclusion because, like Jeremiah (20:9), we have “something like a burning fire shut up in [our] bones; [we] are weary with holding it in, and [we] cannot.” We are neither distracted nor dissuaded by the challenges we face. We are in this for the long haul. We are committed to talking peacefully to those with whom we disagree, to bearing the weight of their fear and anger where these are present, to never treating them with any less respect than they treat us. We are committed to bringing our best selves to this work, which we understand to be a holy work of accountability. We are committed to taking good care of ourselves, each other, and our allies, knowing that we, and all people, are worthy of lives lived well and joyously.

When we are weary of talking with one more religious exclusionist, we find strength in our sense of purpose and our trust in the sacred nature of that purpose. When people lie about us and misrepresent us, we do all that we can to set the record straight but do not malign them in turn. When walking away is the sanest option, we do so without a sense that our integrity has been breached. We cultivate our spiritual lives knowing that inclusion work demands patience, trust, humility, and love.

Above all, we believe that while inclusion is a matter of social justice, it is no less a matter of abundance, of trusting that the Holy has made room for all of us in the houses to which we feel called. We reject strategies of fear and small-mindedness. We reject “either/or” solutions in favor of the possibility of “both/and.” We have no desire to cause pain. We wish to be instruments of grace however we understand that idea in the specifics of our individual situations. We believe that the spirit within and beyond us is greater than any of us can grasp, and that we do the spirit honor by modeling in our lives and work the abundance we have experienced.

If you are hard at work on inclusion, we thank you. If you are inspired to enter the fray, we welcome you. If you understand these matters differently, we respectfully invite you into conversation. If you are alone and in pain, know that it is your broken heart that inspires us to keep up the struggle. We continue to work for a world of full inclusion that we may never fully see but that we know can be brought closer, day by day, year by year, with our efforts and our faith.”

That’s my small piece. What are your words of hope? What is your manifesto?


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