Riding with the Rev. -- John Millspaugh

Spiritual Risk-Taking

The first Sunday back from the National Caravan for Marriage Equality, I preached a sermon called "Spiritual Risk Taking." Here's an excerpt from near the beginning:

"When the voice on the other end of the phone asked me to consider the Caravan, I felt a tugging from someplace deep inside me. However, I have spent a fair amount of my adult life becoming pretty skilled at ignoring tuggings like that when I feel them. How about you?

"...This time, I said yes. And that got me thinking about the nature of spiritual risk taking. Saying yes to participating in this Caravan felt like a leaning into the Spirit, a trusting of something I had no reason to trust...

"What do I mean by spiritual risk-taking? Spirituality refers to the inner dimension, the depth dimension, of every person. In the way I feel it, your spirit is the core of your being, your authentic self, the inner light that makes you who are in your depths. When we awaken to those deepest parts of the self and begin to live from them, it's a sense of coming home to what in your heart you want most. I think that this is what we simultaneously yearn for…and flee.

"In all of my life, I want to live with courage and authenticity to the degree that I can. Is that an aspiration that you share? So, why do we ignore our core promptings?"

The whole text can be found here.

(Days 7-8) The National Rally

On Day 7, Sunday, we awoke early in Pittsburgh, PA , which was surprisingly beautiful at least from the bus, and began the drive to Washington, D.C. As we drove, Rev. Helen and I discussed the possibility of leading a reaffirmation of vows for the couples, who between them represented over 200 years of committed partnership. Some of the couples had never had any public ritual acknowledging their love and commitment, and were deeply stirred by the possibility. Particularly excited were Shelly and Ellen, both grandmothers in their sixties. Though they have been partnered for thirty years, they had never imagined that their love and commitment could be acknowledged and honored in a public setting. Rev. Helen and I spent much of the afternoon planning the ceremony, which you can now watch via the C-SPAN streaming video I mentioned in my previous blog post, below.

I spent Sunday evening in the home of my friends Rob Keithan, Director of the UUA Washington Office for Advocacy, and his wife Mandy Keithan, Director of Religious Education at the UU Church of Silver Spring, Maryland. After an amangly good homemade fajita dinner, I retired upstairs to finish writing my one-minute speech for the next day. It was to be the first time I spoke on national television, and I was concerned that my words the best they could be.

The next morning, riders were expected to help with security shifts at the rally, which began at 5:00 AM. The rally was in the Upper Senate Park, just outside the capitol building (which you can see in the photos I added today). There were at least seventy individual speakers over the course of the day, including dignitaries such as California Assemblymember Mark Leno, Chrissy Gephardt, Genora Dancel, plaintiff in the 1993 Hawaii marriage case, and Jimmy Creech, former United Methodist minister, a straight religious leader defrocked for performing a same-sex wedding in the 1999. All of their speeches, as well as my portions of the rally, are available on the CSPAN video.

I discovered that speaking on national television was not as challenging as I had thought. I spoke from the heart, someone taped it, and that was it. In this hurting world, I was reminded of the power that all of us have to speak out with conviction and make a difference. It just takes a little spiritual risk-taking-- an idea I'll develop substantially in my next post.

National and International Media Climb Aboard the Caravan

I look forward to posting an entry for the last two days of the Caravan, Days 7 and 8, in the next few days. For now, you might be interested to know that the rally on Day 8 was covered extensively by the media. You can go to the C-SPAN website to watch a video of the whole thing, or just click here. To see my speech, scroll to the 3:40 point in the video. Also, the reaffirmation of vows I participated in leading can be found at the 4:24 mark.

The rally was covered by The Orange County Register, The Boston Globe, the San Diego Union-Tribune, the Chicago Sun-Times, the San Francisco Chronicle, Planet Out, the Miami Herald, and many other news outlets, as far away as China.

It seems the message is getting out!

(Day 6) American Pastoral

Continually rolling past the bus windows are the ever-changing, ever-beautiful landscapes of this continent. Today the plains of Indiana gave way to the harvest fields of Ohio, then the crimson and amber hills of Pennsylvania. I hope that someday our human civilization will live up to the majestic integrity of the land we inhabit.

Our first presentation today was at the Unitarian Universalist Church of Columbus, Ohio. Shelly Bailes, who has been with her partner Ellen Pontac for over 30 years, said after pleading an elegant case for marriage equality, “I know that there are people out there who don’t like me. Frankly, there are people out there who I don’t like. But the way I handle people I don’t like is this: I don’t invite them to my birthday parties. I don’t try to take away their civil rights.”

When we reboarded the bus, Helen and I went to separate rows instead of sitting together as we had at the beginning of the trip. There is a level of stress and exhaustion on the bus that led us to start sitting separately yesterday, so that those who wished to speak to one of us pastorally would always find an empty seat next to us. In this pastoral role we witness what the Massachusetts court called the "deep and scarring hardship" that the marriage ban works on this very real segment of our community for no rational reason. At times I find myself imagining what other personal and spiritual challenges these folks might have energy free to grapple with, if they were not forced to deal on a daily basis with a society that treats them as second-class citizens.

Their work on this caravan is vital, and of national significance—C-SPAN 2 will be covering the entire rally we have organized in Washington D.C., from 11-4 PM Eastern Time. (I am scheduled to speak somewhere between 2:30 and 4:00 Eastern Time.) Still, I wonder what other contributions these folks would be making to society, if they didn’t have to spending their energy working for the legal right to marry the person they love.

It was delightful to see two of our riders, Jacqueline and Bev, united with their extended family at the Unitarian Universalist Church of Akron, Ohio, which is Bev’s home church. Their young male nephews (four? seven?...too fast moving to count) were particularly intrigued with the medals of honor on Jacqueline’s Army uniform. Jacqueline and Bev glowed as they played with the children and chatted with their many relatives. Both were flush with excitement when they boarded the bus. Bev said to me, smiling wistfully, “This is home, for both Jacqueline and I. We both miss it so much.” Her smile faded and her gaze became distant. “But we’re exiled, you know?”

“Exiled? What do you mean?” The blissful ignorance of heterosexual privilege strikes again.

“We have no legal rights here, as a couple. That’s why we’ve had to go to California for now. At least there we can get the fifteen rights that come with domestic partnership. That’s nothing compared to the 1,138 rights that come with legal marriage. but fifteen is a lot better than zero. Living in Ohio would mean being legal strangers. We hope we can come back someday. This is where our family is. This is home.”

I look forward to the national rally on Monday.

(Days 4-5) Making the World More Homelike

I have posted new pictures from the Caravan to the Photo Album section of this blog, and invite you to check them out.

My own experience of this caravan has been intense, but much less than that of most other riders. The other speakers here are doing something I don’t know how I could do. I cannot imagine what it would be like to stand with the woman I love in front of a crowd of thousands and explain how my government forbids us from marrying and legally protecting our family. I can’t imagine what it would be like to have an American president try to carve my civil rights out of the Constitution based on some aspect of my identity.

I’m thinking of two other Unitarian Universalists on this bus, Army Staff Sergeant Jacqueline, veteran of Desert Storm, and her partner Bev, former Army Reservist. Jacqeuline served in both Iraq and Kuwait during the Gulf War and has been awarded numerous medals during her fifteen years of service.

Had Jacqueline been killed in combat, Bev would not have known unless and until Jacqueline’s paerents--her legal next of kin--chose to inform her. The military’s “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” policy meant that displaying her Bev’s photograph, mentioning Bev’s name, or in any other way being true to her own identity would have resulted in Jacqueline’s immediate dismissal. After fifteen years, Jacqueline found herself no longer able to live a lie and resigned, forfeiting her retirement benefits for herself and her family.

Jim and Eve Lubalin joined the Marriage Equality Caravan to fight for the same rights for their lesbian daughter that they have enjoyed through 40 years of marriage. Veterans of the antiwar, civil rights and feminist movements of the 1960's and 1970's, both have worked for social justice all their lives. Eve earned a Ph.D. in Political Science and worked on Capitol Hill as Chief of Staff and Legislative Director for two U.S. Senators. With a Ph.D. in Social Psychology, Jim has worked to improve the quality of and access to health care by directing health services research in non-profit settings. They both participate in PFLAG (Parents, Family and Friends of Lesbians and Gays). At the rallies, as Eve explains how legal discrimination affects her family, she consistently breaks down crying. She has a good-natured bet going with one of the event organizers that she WILL be able to get through her speech without crying before we reach D.C. It’s obvious how these two straight people suffer, as any parents would, when their daughter is subjected to the harsh sting of the stigma and disrespect conveyed by the government's unwillingness to let her marry the person she loves.

One final example is Anthony White, 41, the Director of Catering for a prominent San Diego restaurant and catering company. He caters mostly weddings. I can’t imagine what this would be like, as someone who is legally barred from marrying the person he has loved for 12 years. Anthony’s partner is a foreign national, and he is not on this Caravan because his participation could jeopardize his immigration status. For that matter, even registering as Anthony’s domestic partner in California could jeopardize his immigration status. Anthony is working to pass the Permanent Partner's Immigration Act, which would allow him to sponsor his partner for permanent resident status, as any straight person could.

I reflected on all of this today as the Caravan rolled through my hometown of Columbia, Missouri. I spend much of this trip feeling like an ally to the other riders. I realized today that they are my allies as well.

If I were to return to my hometown to raise a family there, I would want it to be a place where love between two adults was not restricted because one had a gender not pleasing to the government. I would want to raise my children in a place where human diversity was celebrated, so that they knew that THEY could grow up to be whoever they were inside. A community that accepts families in all their forms leads to families who, in turn, make the world more homelike.

I had thought I was helping the riders in their cause; I have realized that they are helping to create the world in which I want to raise my children.

(Day 3) "Wyoming is God's Country"

“According to my wife, I lost my innocence at age 16, and I lost my ignorance at 42.” So said Dave O’Malley, former Chief of Police of Laramie, Wyoming, from the front of the Marriage Equality bus. “Before Matthew Shepard’s death, I had all the traditional, prejudiced views about homosexuals. By the end of that week’s investigations, my prejudices and ignorance were gone.”

He became silent, reflective, starting to speak again but becoming too choked up to continue. “I’m sorry. Today has already been a hard day for me. It was exactly six years ago. It all began a few hours from now, not far from here.”

After describing in greater detail the personal transformation that Matthew Shepard’s murder effected for him and many citizens of Laramie, O’Malley said: “Matt’s legacy is things like you are doing here.”

We had come to Laramie earlier in the day to hold a rally and educational forum at the University of Wyoming. When the students we encountered realized that our group was there to promote extending legal rights and responsibilities to same-sex couples, many averted their eyes or quickened their step. One student said, “What the [expletive deleted] is going on with all this gay [expletive deleted]”?

We gathered at 11:45 on the campus lawn at the invitation of three campus organizations (two BGLT, one feminist), to set up for a 12:00 rally. The only folks from Laramie who seemed intentionally present were the organizers themselves and a straight couple. The couple held a sign reading, “Wyoming is God’s Country. Let’s Keep it that Way. Ban Gay Marriage.”

Given our initial reception, I was surprised when over two hundred people appeared for the rally, mostly students and professors but also a state senator who spoke at length. I was surprised that many students who couldn’t stay asked for literature on their way to class. I was surprised by how moving it was to watch the triple wedding ceremony performed there on the lawn by a local pastor. He simultaneously married a straight couple, a gay couple, and a lesbian couple. I had never seen more than one couple get married at once, and expected such a ceremony to feel bizarre. Instead, watching those individuals with glowing expressions join their hands and hearts in love, it seemed like they and the pastor were sanctifying the ground on which we stood.

When it was my turn to speak, I began by saying. “I’ve read that 'Wyoming is God’s Country.' Watching this beautiful wedding ceremony, and seeing all of you here to support equality for all, I know that it is true.”

After the educational forum that followed, we departed for the Fireside Lounge, the site from which Matthew Shepard was kidnapped in 1998. As you probably know, two men wanted to “teach him a lesson” for being gay. They drove him to a remote farm, tied him to a fencepost, beat him with their fists and the butt of a pistol, and left him there to die in the near-freezing temperatures. He was found by a bicyclist eighteen hours later, still living. He died from his brain stem and other injuries five days later. One doctor said, "These sorts of injuries are what you would see in an eighty-mile an hour car crash, not what you would expect one person could do to another." He was so badly injured that the doctors had been unable to operate.

On the Fireside Lounge's covered patio, the mood was somber. The Caravan riders were the only ones there. Rev. Helen and I led a memorial service. It was not only for Matthew, but for all those who have led lives of courage, staying true to their identities in the face of adversity. Helen began the service by lighting a candle, saying, “Sometimes our spirit is but the gentle glow of a single flame. For the one who keeps it burning brightly to the end, death is not defeat.”

It was an extremely emotional event. I had found myself crying even as I composed the prayer. During the ceremony itself, almost all were crying. Passersby on foot and on bicycles stopped to mutely listen.

The sky had darkened as the ceremony began, and ten minutes after our opening words, a light sprinkle turned to hail. Midway through the service, hail turned back into light rain. As the service concluded, the sky brightened again. I don't tend to attribute meaning to that sort of thing, but I was left mystified and amazed.

After the ceremony, we got behind schedule because the passersby who had stopped wanted to speak with us. They told us that things had greatly improved in Laramie since 1998 for BGLT people, but there was still a way to go. Some took rolls of “Freedom to Marry” stickers with them to share with their friends.

We boarded the bus and headed to the Unitarian Universalist Church of Cheyenne for a potluck dinner. This was the first UU church to host the Caravan, although there will be at least two others along the way.

Many of the Caravan riders have had primarily negative experiences of religion before the Caravan. Some were initially wary in getting to know Helen and me. Now they have begun to ask about Unitarian Universalism. I don't talk about this tradition with those who don't ask about it, but with those who ask, I do. I know too many people who tell me, "I so wish I had known about this faith twenty years ago." On this Caravan, I am feeling proud to be a part of such a tradition as this.

(Day 2) Sitting on a Bus--With Media Coverage.

Today, we pretty much drove all day. A rally had been planned for Salt Lake City, but just a few days before the Caravan departed, the local organizers asked us to scrap it. They felt we would inevitably be asking for too much, too fast, for their state, and it would be counterproductive.

Frankly, after getting less than six hours of sleep for five consecutive nights, it was nice to have a more relaxed day. The five embedded media still scoured the bus, looking for new angles for interviews and photographs. I'm particularly impressed by the contortions of the San Francisco Chronicle photographer--how many new ways are there to photograph the interior of a bus?

Nonetheless, many stories have been written about the Caravan and will continue to be, mostly by local media at the places we stop. I’ve learned that my denomination has compiled web links to some of the most significant newspaper stories. The Caravan has also become the top story on the denominational web page. The links to news stories are available here.

(Day 1) Finding My Voice

Monday, October 4

I rose at 4:30 AM, in the home of my good friend Caroline. I got to know her in college, where she helped me launch the campus juggling club. She's is now a teacher of children with learning disabilities in the Bay Area. It’s so deeply relaxing to reconnect with someone you have known long and well. It was almost healing to see her. Conversation flowed like we had just chatted the day before, though it had been many months.

I enjoyed dinner with Caroline and her life partner, Yvette, who is earning her Ph.D. in molecular biology. I don’t know Yvette well, but I can see why Caroline is committed to life partnership with her. She’s remarkable. Dinner was filled with laughter and serious moments.

When we parted company, they said, “Thanks so much for coming—and thanks so much for going for us.” I hadn’t realized that I was going on the Caravan for them. In that moment I realized I was.

When I awoke the next morning at 4:30, I was slower moving than I had hoped. The theological student who picked me up in the dark of night had to wait five minutes for me to pack my final belongings. On the ride to the BART station, we chatted about how much she loved her seminary, and how excited we both were for the trip.

I stepped out of her car into the chaos of television cameras, newspaper reporters, and 43 bleary-eyed riders. A member of the Oakland City Council made a speech officially proclaiming this “Marriage Equality Caravan Week” in Oakland. Then we were on our way.

Our first stop was the Statehouse in Sacramento, California—where we imagined we would encounter less hostility than our next stop in Reno. When we arrived in Sacramento, news crews and a significant crowd had already gathered, with banners, drums, and bells. I was glad that I was wearing my clerical collar, so that it was obvious that I was present as a religious voice.

As the riders told their personal stories—which I hope to relate here in the next few days-- I was surprised to find tears coming to my eyes. Soon it was my turn to speak. After I was introduced, I said something along the lines of:

“There are many religious Americans, from many religious traditions, who support marriage equality for same-sex couples. Unitarian Universalists have long been among them. We know from our own experience the equal blessings that gay and lesbian people bring to our communities and congregations. We know from lived experience in our religious community that differences of faith, of race and of sexual orientation need not divide us. We know that diversity is part of beauty and the majesty of the universe, and that diversity within the human family can be a blessing and not a curse.” I then turned to Rev. Helen, who led us in a prayer for a safe journey.

Soon we were on our way to Reno—which was less hospitable. At the Reno Federal Building, with about four news crews present, the riders’ speeches (including my own) were occasionally interrupted by passersby. Most who spoke were condemning. One man called out “Go back to San Francisco!,” and some others leaned out of the windows of their cars to yell an extended “Boo!”

More discreet were the local lesbian couple in their 70s, who pulled up in their car and asked one of the riders if we were accepting donations. The two of them had come for the rally, but would not get out of their car. They said, “Thank you for doing this. We can’t speak out like this. Here, we are too afraid.”

Sunday, 10/03/04

We had a large number of guests at church today because of the article published in the Orange County Register, which described the beginning of my cross-country journey on the National Marriage Equality Express Caravan. During social hour, most of my conversation partners were straight like me, so when the topic of the Caravan came up, I expected they would speak in general terms. But their personal stories spilled out.

Almost all I spoke to had direct ties to the Marriage Equality issue, because of a co-worker, or a son, or a granddaughter in a committed life partnership. They knew about some of the 1,138 rights that come with civil marriage, and wanted the government to stop discriminating against same-sex couples and their children.

Over a steaming cup of coffee, one church matriarch told me that she had no personal connection to the issue, but she cared because of the gay Americans who serve in the military, keep our communities safe as firefighters and police officers, and staff our hospitals. She thought their families should have the same rights that most American families take for granted.

After the social hour, I led a “Social Action Brainstorm,” where the church I serve considered what issues we will embrace as a community this year. Among the top priorities were feeding Orange County’s hungry, tutoring local schoolchildren, and educating ourselves about migrant laborers.

After the brainstorm, I stopped by our Board meeting, then drove to John Wayne Airport to catch Southwest flight 1005 to Oakland. Oakland is where the journey begins, Monday morning at 5:30 a.m. I’m not a morning person, but I’ve never been more motivated to get up early.

My fellow riders will include the Unitarian Universalist marine who last week, after fifteen years of military service, came out of the closet and thereby forfeited her retirement benefits. They include grey-haired grandmothers who have been together for 31 years, who are concerned not only about social security but what will happen to the body if one dies—as the other will have no legal say in the matter. Then there are the helicopter pilot, the elevator repairman, the world champion kickboxer . . . I look forward to meeting all 43 other riders tomorrow.

What will happen as people from all these varied walks of life come together on this issue, in the coming week, in the coming year? I don't know. May the road be open before us—the road to Washington, and to full equality for all American people.

The Focus of Intense Hatred

Yesterday started well enough. Then a supportive Unitarian Universalist minister asked if I had a support system in place for my imminent departure on the Marriage Equality Express Caravan. I said “Sure. Why?”

She said, “Rev. Millspaugh, you are about to become the focus of intense hatred.” I had not thought about the upcoming eight days in those terms, but she may be right. Of course, she was also reminding me of my privilege: I get to choose when to put myself on the line. Our current society puts the lives of gay, lesbian, and bisexual people on the line every day, through social discrimination, religious condemnation, and legal sanction. The same is true for the young children of those couples. I am a straight minister, respected in my community; I am rarely in the position that these families face every day.

It’s difficult to know how it will feel to be on this Caravan. As I write, I’m immersed in wrapping things up for the religious community I serve, the Unitarian Universalist Church of South County. Before I leave for Oakland Sunday afternoon, I need to finish this week’s sermon, write the children’s story, facilitate a leadership workshop, and prepare to meet with the parishioner I’m counseling this evening. The unknown challenges of the Caravan seem far removed from the humble church office where I write.

But come to think about it, the group of riders could just as well start right here. The Caravan is intended to be a celebration of Love—the Love that brought the universe into being and forms the essence of who we are, the Love we celebrate at this religious community every Sunday. The Caravan is simply an extension of the most basic concepts affirmed by most religions, certainly my own: the inherent dignity and worth of every person, the free and responsible search for truth and meaning, and justice, equity, and compassion in human relations—or in simpler language, treating others as we ourselves would be treated.

I can’t know what the journey will hold, but I don't think that divisiveness will be a major part of the experience. I hope the Caravan becomes an opportunity to build bridges. I hope that when people hear about the Caravan, they are inspired. Inspired to open their spirits to the possibility that revelation is not sealed, that human knowledge might be ever-expanding. I hope they are inspired to accept themselves as God made them—whether straight like me, or gay, lesbian, or bisexual. I hope that those who hear of the Caravan are inspired to discern how the sacred, however they understand it, might be leading them in the coming days.

I can’t know what the journey will hold. But I seek to ground and center myself now, knowing that Sunday I will step forward as a risk of faith.