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Sermon |
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Celebrate Pride Day: Leave No One Behind |
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June 29, 2003, 11:00 AM ServiceBy Rev. Joe McMurray There is much to celebrate this weekend as we prepare for our traditional march up Market Street. I’m happy to announce that this past week, our Shower Project program was extended for another year. It’s very important step, and one that did not come easily, and I want to thank all of you, on behalf of Penny, who showed up. It was a late, late night. They didn’t get home until 2:30 in the morning; they didn’t start hearing until 1:00 in the morning, or something like that, and so, it was truly a testament to have those of you who were there present to speak, and obviously it made a difference, so thank you. We are also celebrating the landmark ruling by the U.S. Supreme Court striking down that archaic sodomy law in some twelve states. And so what a week to have Pride! I mean, this is really great. It was a sight to see in the Castro on Thursday after this announcement came out. I don’t know if you witnessed it or not, but there were a lot of visitors already here in town for the parade and for the whole Pride weekend, and just seeing that kind of free spirit and that excitement in the Castro, it’s been awhile since I’ve seen it. They took down the gay flag and they put up the American flag and it was quite a sight. I don’t know about you, but I’ll just speak for myself, personally, it’s been quite awhile since I’ve had that kind of pride in the American flag on that day. It was quite wonderful. Actually I ran into Stephanie Smith, who is the Music Director at New Spirit and also sometimes sings in our evening choir here and Stephanie told me that they were going to be gathering in front of the Sausage Factory to sing later on that afternoon, and I thought ‘What a comic irony to be celebrating the end of sodomy in front of the Sausage Factory.” Where else but here, right? So will you pray with me, please? So the Pride theme this year is “You’ve Gotta Give Them Hope.” Those are words that are attributed to Harvey Milk, the great civil rights, queer rights leader in the GLBT movement. The Pride 2003 website says this: “Whether lesbians and gay men in the 70’s, people of color, bisexuals and leather folks in the 80’s, transgenders, first peoples and S&M practitioners in the 90’s, and now intersexed people in the new millennium, we have all moved from the hidden to the seen. By becoming visible, a people becomes powerful.” By becoming visible, a people becomes powerful. Oh how I wish that Richard Chamberlain had come out of the closet 20, 30, 40 years ago when it would have mattered a great deal more, especially to queer young people struggling for recognition and acceptance and visibility. Harvey Milk insisted “You’ve gotta give them hope. Give hope to all those little girls and boys out there in America who need to believe that they do matter, and are capable of changing the world for the better.” He said, "Without hope, not only gays, but blacks, seniors, handicapped, the us'es—the us'es will give up." Harvey Milk saw San Francisco’s queer community as having a unique responsibility to provide that hope. I wonder if Moses said the same thing to God. The Israelites were an oppressed people. They endured tremendous daily hardships. They were slaves, virtually slaves, doing the bidding of the Egyptians. And things were worsening and had been for a long time under Egyptian dominance. The Pharaoh was a harsh task master. Part of the job of the Israelites was to make bricks for the Egyptians so they could use them for their temples. The Egyptians provided the straw and the Israelites made the bricks from straw and from mud. And Moses had an appearance from the presence of God, and God said “Take the people out into the desert to honor me,” and so Moses went to the Pharaoh and asked for a three day festival. Pharaoh said, “Well you can do that here,” and Moses said, “No, we must go outside and do it in the desert to honor our God,” and the Pharaoh was angry and said, “I want you now to continue making the same number of bricks, but now you must provide your own straw.” This was a tremendous hardship for the people. So perhaps Moses went off to the side and had a little conversation with God and said, “C’mon God, you’ve gotta give them hope. You’ve gotta give them something to hold onto.” And God did. God gave them a vision, and it was up to Moses to fulfill that vision. So they prepared to leave Egypt. They prepared to leave oppression behind, but there was a lot of uncertainty. The desert was unknown; it was hot. They were going to have to travel to God-knows-where. How many hundreds of miles? Their freedom would be costly, and they knew that. Each time Pharaoh had agreed to let them go, suddenly he’d change his mind, and then God would send, as you know, another plague. And finally Pharaoh relented once more and in fact he became eager for the Israelites to go. “Please leave.” They even gave gold and silver to expedite their journey. “Just go.” But they had to hurry. There was no doubt that Pharaoh was going to change his mind again. They prepared a final meal, the Passover meal. And they prepared enough food only for that meal. They did not even take time to add leaven to the dough for the bread to rise. Roasted lamb, unleavened bread, and bitter herbs. And God said “Eat the meal with your cloak tucked into your belt, sandals on your feet, and your staff in your hand.” (Perhaps that was the first take-out meal, who knows?). But there was no doubt. As they gathered their few possessions together, there was no doubt that they were leaving a lot behind. True, they had very little to begin with, but they left their homes, they left the safety of what they knew, they left some of their relationships behind, for certainly they had some relationships with the Egyptians. Perhaps personal treasures that had been handed down through the generations to one another, they could not afford to take them with them. But even in their haste nothing is written about them leaving any of their people behind. Surely, there must have been some who were unable to make that journey. Imagine women with infant children traveling in the heat of the desert; or the elderly who had a difficult time even just moving from one place to another; or the sick, or the infirm, or those who were disabled physically or those who were mentally ill. Those considered to be ‘least among them’; criminals, thieves, the outcasts, the beggars, homeless people, queer people. Even their dead; they dug up and took the bones with them. They left no one behind. Even at this critical junction when their freedom was most at stake, they left no one behind. The slightest hesitation could have meant continued enslavement. Or worse, even death. But they took everyone with them. I dare say some Egyptians probably even went with them; Egyptians, who were sick and tired of the ways that their leaders treated other people. And so we call this Pride Day, and we have much to be proud about. We find ourselves marching year after year, celebrating all that we are, all that we’ve become. For the political gains, and the legal gains that we’ve made. To show the world that we are here, we’re queer, and we’re not going away, we’re staying around. It feels great to be a part of the dominant community at least on Pride Day, doesn’t it? Perhaps what feels so good is that it just doesn’t matter who you are, or who you love. Have you ever taken the MUNI on a day like today? There are people hugging and kissing and smashed together. Gay, straight, it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter who you are on Pride Day. It’s like there’s a common purpose—to get a good seat! And there’s just an air of celebration going on and it doesn’t matter. But it’s also worthwhile for us, I think, even as we celebrate and even as we are joyous to ask the question, Who is it that doesn’t feel invited to this party? Who is it that might be feeling left behind? Whose bones do we carry along with us even as we celebrate in joy? Who will we carry, especially as queer people of faith, along the parade route with us today? Is there room to carry the sick who may be too weak to march, and count on our strength and our advocacy? What about the drugged up and the too intoxicated, in hope that they get the care that they need and find self love and acceptance in helpful and live-giving ways? Let’s carry the depressed and the mentally ill and others who trouble us, that they might find compassion and care and someone—someone to listen to them. And let’s not forget the poor and the homeless who may see no worthwhile cause for celebration. They may be more concerned with where their next meal will come from. Let’s carry the imprisoned with us, so they know that they’re not forgotten, for above all they have no voice at all. “You’ve gotta give them hope,” Harvey Milk said. The ‘them’ has come to mean much more than just those of us in the queer movement. We LGBT have been fighting for a long time and we will continue to fight. Liberation is costly. Liberation has risks. For us and for others who have yet to experience it. As we proudly march up Market Street today behind our MCCSF banner (and no doubt a pillar of fog accompanying us lovingly along the way) or whether we’re watching it on TV, for those not marching, or just holding the spirit of the day, let’s commit to carry with us any and all who might not share equally in our joy. And as the Israelites of old marched in celebration of their new found freedom, let us make the same pledge today by leaving no one behind. May it be so. Amen. |
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