The Rainbow, Stained-Glass Dilemma
Likely against his better judgment, Bishop W.T. Handy ordained me in 1986, making me the 13th woman ordained in the then-Missouri West Annual Conference. Women had been ordained in the UMC since 1957, meaning that Missouri West had been ordaining women at the clip of one every 2 or 3 years.
Bishop Handy’s background and convictions led him to a high understanding of the office of the episcopacy, meaning that persons questioned his decisions at their own risk. This authoritative behavior turned out to be beneficial to fledgling women clergy in Missouri. Every church learned that the fastest way to get a woman pastor would be to tell the bishop that they did not want a woman pastor. Even the most woman-resistant churches became adept at faking it on the official forms.
Bishop Handy is long gone and, oddly, so is the prohibition on refusing a female pastor. When I was leaving one of my churches not too long ago, I found out that some of my folks contacted the bishop to say that while things had gone fine with their woman pastor, now it was their turn to get a nice, white, straight man with a wife and 2.3 kids. Sigh.
Hence my concern for this moment in my beloved denomination, now that openly LGBT+ clergy can be ordained and appointed to our congregations.
Back in my day, an irascible, authoritarian bishop made it clear that the easiest way for a church to receive a female pastor would be to ask not to have one. Today, bishops have gone on speaking tours throughout their Conferences to assure skittish churches that they simply have to say the word, and they will never receive an LGBT+ pastor. Ever.
LGBT+ clergy face a rainbow-colored, stained-glass dilemma. If they live into the promises of GC2024 and acknowledge their sexual orientation openly, they immediately face institutionally-sanctioned restricted itineracy options. Many, many churches have been served successfully by LGBT+ persons. Sometimes the pastor’s sexual orientation has been an open secret, guarded well by caring congregations who love their pastor. Other times, the pastor’s sexual orientation has been tightly held by a pastor who has made life choices to enable them to serve out their calling in the UMC. Make no mistake about it, LGBT+ clergy are already serving well in places that they might never be allowed to go under these current circumstances.
Have we created a new Central Jurisdiction* (footnote below for folks that aren’t up on their UM history), delineated by sexual orientation rather than race?
The answer isn’t for a harried denomination to wish that the LGBT+ clergy remain happily closeted and allow the Church to slam the door shut behind them. The real answer requires much more from each of us as United Methodist Christians. We must keep flinging the doors open as wide as possible, even if our arms get tired from holding those heavy doors open against fierce winds. The more that we are able to see the image of God in our LGBT+ clergy, and our clergywomen, and anyone else that God (and the UMC) sends to serve us in ministry, the more that we will be able to see and love the image of God in each one of us.
And, to the SPR committee chair whose pen is hovering uncertainly over what to write on the consultation form, who knows? The very last pastor that you think you might want could just be the one that God is going to use to breathe new life and hope in your church. It’s happened before, and it will surely happen again.
* Central Jurisdiction: In 1939, when the Methodist Church reunited after our pre-Civil war breakup, Southern Methodists were worried about having to receive black clergy. Therefore, all of the black churches and clergy were placed into one nationwide Central Jurisdiction. Methodists lived under this racial division for almost 30 years, until they united with the Evangelical United Brethren, who insisted on ending this practice as a condition of unification.
Rev. Dr. Sally Haynes retired after 39 years of pastoral ministry in Missouri. Some of Sally’s most meaningful pastoral experiences occurred while at Reconciling congregations in the 1990’s and early 2000’s. She and her husband, Andy, now live on Sanibel Island, FL, and love visiting their children and grandchildren, when not dodging tropical storms.
