Sermon

January 25, 2004

By Rev. Dr. Jim Mitulski

Part of introduction by Rev. Penny Nixon: I said at Jim’s installation in the MCC Glendale Church in March when I was down there preaching (which was a great privilege) that Jim Mitulski taught me what it was to be a Christian. And I could see some shocked faces in the audience actually (laughter) but I meant that with all my heart. And Jim remains just an incredible person in ministry that touches so many and remains to this day a dear, dear soul friend of mine and it is with great honor and joy that I ask you to welcome with me again, Rev. Jim Mitulski. (Applause)

Rev. Jim Mitulski: I love coming back here. Every time I come back it’s better and better. And it feels like that from the minute I walk in. The building looks better and better and hearing the choir... Grace, where are you? Grace, excellent, excellent. It just sounds better and better. That’s the way history is I think; it gets better and better. And I can’t tell you how happy I am just to be here. And I want to tell you just what I’m doing.

I’m working full time for the denomination in Los Angeles. I'm the fundraiser—can you believe that? And also I’m training the leadership, the new young leaders for MCC. And I want to say publicly, because you’ve heard me be critical of our denomination in the past and also loving of it, that there’s something I find very attractive about a denomination that would hire its severest critic at times to be its principal fundraiser and trainer of new leaders. So I really think there’s something going on with MCC; we are not done yet! Even though those Episcopalians have consecrated a new gay bishop (bless their hearts). The first gay bishop? Well, anyway...MCC is not done yet. And MCC San Francisco is not done yet. What I love about this place is that it just keeps becoming more and more what it is. It’s a mystery; it’s a transcendent mystery.

And I want to say about Penny, so that it doesn’t go unsaid, that I think you have the finest pastor you have ever had in your thirty-plus year history—and you’ve had some really interesting people over the years. But Penny is by far the finest and she is a great preacher; she’s a great prophet; she’s a great pastor. Any one of those would be enough, I would think, but she’s all those things. And she’s a dear friend too. I love that. You taught me how to be a lesbian. (Laughter and applause)

You know, something that MCC San Francisco did for the denomination, among many things, is to have a man and a woman as co-pastors here for many years. I think there was something really extraordinary about a male and a female working together. It was extraordinary in our community. They’re still talking about it in the denomination. It makes people very nervous, which tells us we were doing the right thing. And that model is not exhausted. But we really gave something to MCC that it needed to see. So that’s just one of the many reasons I’m fond of this church.

I want to tell you about Bob Crocker and Bill Gallimore too. We’re living together in Los Angeles now. Sold our house up here and we’re all down there in a section called Eagle Rock. Bill, who was the ASL interpreter here for many years, is teaching deaf children— preschool half-day and high school the other half of the day. And he is really blossoming and flourishing in that work. His preschoolers had never participated in the school Christmas assembly before. And he said, “My kids are going to dance this year.” And you know, they thought that deaf kids could not dance. And he taught them to do the Macarena (Maca-reindeer actually). You saw how happy those kids were. People don’t believe in them and he’s helping them to believe in themselves. He learned that here too.

Crocker is the music teacher at the Brentwood School. Now if you’re in LA, you go, “Brentwood! Excuse me.” He's teaching some of the finest, smartest, richest kids in the country. And you know what? He misses teaching music to the kids at the Harvey Milk School. And he’s the music director at our little church in Glendale. We have a church of about fifteen in Glendale where we’re trying to bring a little bit of MCC San Francisco to the southland. And the people in that church just love Bob. They love the music. And I know that church of fifteen is someday going to be a church of fifty and maybe bigger. And it’s the music that going to make it grow. We learned that here too. So when I see that organ I think of Bob and Harry and Linton and the others, going down to Santa Cruz and bringing it here. And that was just a vision of what music could do to unite a community. And you may not even use it that much any more but still it’s there as a reminder that music is the common language of a spiritually diverse community. And you are still doin’ it, beautifully I might add. So that’s what’s up with us.

And now I want to talk about you. Bob says that since I moved to LA, whenever I see a movie, I see a play, I hear a song, I say, “Oh my God, that’s about AIDS in San Francisco. That’s about MCC San Francisco during the AIDS years.” And I say that because I had to move away to grasp fully, and I’m still growing into it, what those years that I worked here 1986-2000 meant, particularly around AIDS. And I’ve come to you and talked to you in the past about the “grief” piece and I’m going to do a little bit of that but mostly I’m going to talk about the “joy” piece because you’re talking this month about touching our strength. And Nehemiah 8:10 says, “The joy of the Lord is your strength. God’s joy is your strength.”

Your joy that was built in this place through great suffering is also your strength. We survived a difficult period those fifteen years and there are still people dying of AIDS and I want to say that right out front that we must not in any way diminish our commitment to the struggle for full justice and equality for people with HIV in San Francisco and in South Africa and everywhere else where people are affected by it. But we survived it because of our strength. We did good work together. It holds up over time. Those of you who were here during those years, don’t you feel good about the kind of community that we provided for our friends? You can walk around this room and I could tell you a story about every name on every plaque. There’s volumes here just on the plaques. I’m not going to bore you with rantings of an aging pastor, but let me tell you that these names tell stories about real people that loved this place. And I believe that love it still.

So with the passage of some time and living in a different city, I’m growing into an appreciation of how strong we were, our grieving, our suffering, but also our joy. We had a lot of fun together during those years. And I think that that sustained us as well. I just think about the first time this church was on national television that I recall. It was probably ’88 or ’89 on Dateline or one of those, remember that? Harry, who's up there in the balcony today, was playing “Blessed Assurance” on the organ wearing his leather jacket with the studs on the back and I think it said something like, “Mr. Eagle 19 (you know) blah blah” or something like that. We were so proud. We weren’t thinking, “O my God, they’ll think that gay Christians are all into leather. Isn’t that awful?” Now that’s not something we would say here but others outside would say that. We have to be very image conscious. Right? We were just darn proud that they saw gay Christians with leather jackets playing “Perfect Submission, Perfect Delight.” (Applause).

Things happen here that don’t happen anywhere else. And now that I’m a pastor of a small church, and also because of the work I do for the denomination, I travel around to lots of different churches. I’ve probably been in twenty-five different churches in the past year. You know what? I can’t even explain what happens here to other people. They’re all very curious—mind you kind of horrified/curious—but curious nevertheless. And one thing I’ll say about this church is that it ruins you for other places. You know, I loved Golden Gate MCC where I served. I see a number of ex-Golden Gaters here. And I loved Guerneville church where I served for a year and I love Glendale church in its way. But there’s nothing like MCC San Francisco. There is just nothing like it. You are doing something special here. Don’t take it for granted.

So I want to talk about the past a little bit, because there are things that you’ve done in the past that I think point you to some things I hope you are passionate about as you go into your very hopeful future. And at the core of that is that your joy; is your strength. God’s joy is your strength.

I mentioned to you that everything I see, everything I do reminds me of MCC San Francisco in the AIDS years. It does. “Angels in America” in December, who watched it? Anyone? Some. Ok. That play could have been written about this church. In fact it was written in San Francisco. In fact this window here (some of you know this) was conceived out of a monologue that included parts of the play. Tony Kushner, the playwright, came here on the 30th anniversary to dedicate this window as it was evolving. I know you know the story, many of you, but I just want to remind you. In the 80’s and 90’s when a lot of people were dying, more than we could keep track of, more than we could absorb, more than we could remember, we theorized there was a hole over the Castro up there and somehow souls were slipping up and out more quickly than we could keep track of.

And then we heard this monologue at the end of “Angels in America.” “Souls were rising, from the earth far below, souls of the dead, of people who had perished, from famine, from war, from the plague, and they floated up like skydivers in reverse, limbs all akimbo, wheeling and spinning. And the souls of these departed joined hands, clasped ankles, and formed a web, a great net of souls, and the souls were three-atom oxygen molecules of the stuff of the ozone, and the outer rim absorbed them and was repaired. Nothing’s lost forever. Nothing’s lost forever. In this world, there’s a kind of painful progress. Longing for what we’ve left behind, and dreaming ahead.” So this swirl was the swirl of souls and what was the source of our grief became a source of comfort to us.

I thought so much about this church during December when I watched “Angels in America” and then I read this e.e. cummings poem that was read for us so wonderfully. And of course I said, “O my God, it’s about AIDS in San Francisco.” And Bob said, “You say that about everything.” And I said, “No, no, no. No, no, look, listen, “Wild (at our first) beasts uttered human words.” With e.e. cummings, it’s a puzzle. You read the things outside the parentheses first. “Wild beasts uttered human words at our first [coming],” at our first coming. There’s no mention even of the word “coming” in it; he didn’t even have a word for it. That was the first and founding generation of MCC San Francisco where reconciling homosexuality and Christianity was an important, and is still an important, mission. It really was a big deal in 1970 for people to say, “It’s ok to be gay and Christian. And to be gay and sexual and spiritual.” Ok? “Wild beasts uttered human words.” The Castro in the 70’s and 80’s, it was a wild, sexual place. Unsustainable, problematic … still valuable.

“Our second coming made stones sing like birds.” The second generation of this church was the AIDS generation. I believe God gathered this church still in 1970 around the issue of homosexuality and Christianity so it would be here in the 80’s and 90’s to provide a sanctuary for people with AIDS and all of us. “Our second coming made stones sing like birds.” Do you remember the quality of singing in this place during our time of grieving? It was better than “stones singing like birds.” I still hear that music sometimes.

“But O the starhushed silence which our third’s.” “The starhushed silence.” All of creation is waiting to see what you do next. First, gay and Christian. Second, AIDS. Now what? I don’t know. But I’m here to tell you that your past points you to your future. It doesn’t define it but there are some voices that demand expression as you evolve into your next “best thing”. Not your last, just your next “best thing.”

The people of Israel were in exile 2500 years ago when this passage was written and Ezra the prophet said, “What happened to all those people that were in exile? What happened to the ones who were in exile who came back to their homeland? What happened to the ones who were the survivors? What’s happening with them?” And the people spoke to the prophet, or maybe God spoke to the prophet, and said, “Go back and give them a word. Rebuild the city. Do it again. They need to hear about their future and their hope and their joy.” So Ezra gathered all the people; they had a reunion. “And he brought them into the square of the water gate by the temple and all the women and all the men and all the children were there.” That wasn’t how the religious life of ancient Israel was organized. But it was so important that they broke their customs around gender role and religious roles and brought women and men together in a public place to hear a recitation of their story and so Ezra read the Pentateuch Torah, the first five books of Moses, the story that included the story of Exodus, going from slavery to freedom. “Passing through the waters of the Red Sea, they were enslaved but when they stepped out on dry ground, they were free.”

He told them that story, all of the people, because they needed to hear about their past in order to do their future even more grandly and extravagantly. “Ezra stood on the podium and recited the books of the law.” It took him six hours; I won’t spend six hours now. But they spent six hours ‘til every word had been heard. And you heard all those names that were recited that were with him. (Those were not my Polish relatives.) Those were the names of people that no one knew who they were now, we don’t even know who they are but they were important then. Those are the names on the wall, the names on the plaques. I could tell you their names: Marty Upp, hairdresser to the stars, he was. Renee Richard, Patrick Sigfried. You don’t know the names, many of you, but they’re here and they’re telling you that the joy of God is your strength. “Ezra told the stories until they understood them.”

I’m reading this book called, “Sepharad” by Antonio Munoz Molina. He's a Spanish writer who talks about the experience of Jews in Diaspora, Jews who were exiled from Spain in the 15th century and Jews who were exiled from Spain to go to concentration camps during the Holocaust. He goes back to visit. It’s all about exile and return. “How strange to live in places where the dead lived, to use things that belonged to them, to look in mirrors where their faces were reflected, to look at oneself with eyes that may have the shape or color of theirs. The dead return during the sleepless hours. People I have forgotten and people I never knew, all prodding the memory of one who survived war sixty years ago, telling him not to forget to speak their names aloud and tell them how they lived, and how they were carried off so early by a death that could have claimed him. Whose place in life have I taken? Whose destiny was canceled so that mine could be fulfilled? Why was I chosen and not another?” These are the stories and the questions that survivors ask. These are the things that prod us to remember our past and to project into our future. “These names surrounded them and as the people heard the recitation of the story,” it says, “they began to cry.”

I’ve never been able to get past this part, I only get to the crying part when I think about the fifteen years of AIDS in San Francisco; it’s very hard to get past it. I’m doing pretty well today I think. It’s ok to cry and this is like the crying sanctuary. Can I say that if you ever need a place to cry, and maybe crying isn’t easy for you, sit here. The spirits that throng the place, the spirit of place make it a safe place. There is a river of tears that runs underneath this building. But crying isn’t always bad either, by no means, but the prophet said to them when they heard the story of their past, “Don’t weep. It’s a holy day.” Or maybe, weep plus. The prophet said to them, “Go your way. Eat the fat (I like that. Ha, ha). Eat the fat and drink sweet wine and send portions to those for whom nothing is prepared.” Send portions to those for whom nothing is prepared. Don’t just cry. Remember the joy and from that place of celebration, share what you have as you build a future. This day is holy; don’t be grieved. “All the people went their way to eat and drink and to send portions and to make great rejoicing.”

I think as long as we’re willing to tell the narrative of the AIDS years we are also ready to rejoice in ways we have not even yet seen. Our suffering evinced our character and now our joy is our strength. We did suffer and we also celebrated and now it’s time to celebrate into something that hasn’t happened. God’s joy, our joy. I’m going to raise three issues with you that were important to your past, that I hope will be important to your future and I know there will be many more.

One is this. As the Congress goes to balance the budget, one of the things on the chopping block right now is Section 8 vouchers for housing. Section 8 vouchers are rental subsidies for poor or unemployed people. Many people in our congregation or some people in our congregation probably live on Section 8 housing. Many people with HIV receive Section 8 vouchers. The government’s proposal is to eliminate them. “But wait,” you say, “what’s the other part? The program that’s going to take its place?” “Oh, there isn’t one. It’s just cut.” This is a church that has always cared about providing a sanctuary. In the 70’s, for gay and Christian. In the 80’s and 90’s, for HIV. And now, housing, housing, housing. We housed people, however imperfectly, with great controversy. I still try to puzzle through the best lessons about community organizing to learn from that but I don’t regret that we housed people. (Applause) Housing counts. The voices around this room say, “Care about housing. Care about what happens to Section 8. As a religious conviction, pay attention to this issue.”

HIV. In order to balance the California state budget, our governor is proposing, among other things, but this relates to HIV, putting people who are eligible for ADAP on a waiting list. ADAP is the program that subsidizes HIV drugs for people who don’t have insurance or who make less than $30,000 a year and have insurance. A lot of people receive ADAP benefits. Some states have already eliminated ADAP benefits. The federal government is considering but isn’t convinced itself yet that they’re going to cover the short gap. What that means is that if you are diagnosed now with HIV, you’ll be put on a waiting list before you are eligible for HIV drugs that will make a difference in saving your life. I’m a person who takes these drugs. I’m so glad I had insurance at the right time and have it still. We did not risk incarceration in 1995 to give out marijuana to people from this room when there was no protease inhibitor, when there was nothing to give them comfort as they were dying in order to find out eight years later that we might put people on a waiting list for drugs that are currently available. It’s a sin; it’s just wrong. The voices of the people who are on this wall and who thronged this place with spirit say, “What is happening? How can we put people on a waiting list when we have the drugs now because it’s not profitable? Someone’s not making a profit.” The human body’s health is not something off which to make a profit. (Applause) I believe that people. I do remiss in not pointing that out.

The final issue: marriage. You know one of the things I love about MCC San Francisco is that we support gay marriage and always have. We did it before it was fashionable. More gay people have been married here in this church probably than any other church, certainly in the city and possibly in the country. It’s under assault. The president gave us a little present in his State of the Union address. Did you hear that? I loved it. “Activist judges however have begun redefining marriage by court order with regard for the will of the people (wait, are we people? Just checking, people) and their elected representatives on an issue of such great consequence. The people’s (Are we people? Just checking.), the people’s voices must be heard. If judges insist on forcing their arbitrary will upon “the people,” the only alternative left to “the people” would be the constitutional process. Our nation must defend the sanctity of marriage.” He’s going to promote, hear it clearly, a constitutional amendment banning gay marriage. This issue is really important. I love that our church supports gay marriage. MCCs all across the world do. And what I love about MCC San Francisco is that it’s also supported the varieties of relationship configurations that people find themselves in. Yea! Ok? A church needs to do that; one church at least somewhere needs to say that. But the gay marriage issue is very important.

Your past compels you to care about this issue in the future. Do you remember ten years ago when in the NY Times was a photograph of twenty couples standing here, right here when President Clinton was visiting town? And we said, "We're having a gay marriage ceremony, President Clinton, you’re invited.” He didn’t come but it was in the NY Times. We cared about that issue then; we care about it still. We did voter identification in this neighborhood four years ago, identifying voters around the Knight initiative. I hope you’ll do something like it. Be active politically on this issue.

Last week two women came into our office in Los Angeles. And they were in the waiting room and they had a big box with them. And they asked if there was a minister there who could come pray with them. So I confess I was like "busy" but I knew I had to go do it and I did go. I sat down with Nancy and Dottie and they had come in off the street because they want to have a baby. They wanted a minister to pray with them because one of them was about to be inseminated. And that box was a canister, like a dry ice canister, with a sperm in it that they were about to use in a clinical setting. Ok I have to admit in all my years at MCC that was a new one. I thought "You know what? If you can’t go into an MCC church with your canister of sperm to be blessed, we’ve lost our edge." (Laughter and applause.) It was a really big canister, ok. I don’t even want to know.

So I prayed with them and I don’t regret it. It was the right thing to do. I felt, I felt convicted that I was even hesitant. Ok. And I knew that MCC is not done ‘cause there’s nothing to be ashamed of about that, think about that. Our prudery, what? You think these women could walk into some liberal Presbyterian church or some liberal Episcopalian church like this? It’s not going to happen. Open and affirming, I’m all for it, but you know what? They’ve crossed that line with stuff like that. That’s why we’re here; that’s why we’re not done. You know we’re not.

So they wrote me afterwards. I don’t know if it was a successful insemination but here’s what happened when they went to the clinic. They had to go to the clinic where the one woman’s health insurance would cover this procedure. And her lover was not allowed in the room during the insemination. She said, “I know it shouldn’t make a difference but it was important to us that she be part of the whole process.” And because of some physical circumstances, it was a painful procedure so she wanted her there for support but also so they could tell their child someday, both Mom’s were involved every moment of the way. Is that a crime? The clinic said, “Your husband or your boyfriend can be here but not a female friend.” This is in California, alright, this happened in California last week. It was in Riverside, which is not the most progressive place, but still. Ok, this is why the marriage issue, we’re not done. Our relationships are holy.

So church, you have a great past. You don’t need me to come here and tell you stories about your past, I have an infinite supply of them. I’ll probably be telling them the rest of my life and I’ll probably be saying to people, “Oh my God, that reminds me of the AIDS years in San Francisco” But listen, your suffering produced character. That’s what Paul says in Romans 5. And character produced endurance and endurance produced hope. But your strength is your joy.

Amen.