Judy Moldenhauer
I have been asked to “tell my story” today, my story as a lesbian in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America (ELCA). I doubt that Mert or Pastor Sue or Dave or Tom or Bruce or Rick or any of the people who planned today’s Reconciling in Christ (RIC) service realized how significant the concept of storytelling is to my professional research and work nor the value that I place on personal storytelling as a way to effect changes in hearts and minds.
Professionally, I am a graphic designer and design educator whose focus is information design. As an information designer, I develop strategies that enable people to get, understand, and use information that they need to live their lives. Common types of information design include instructions, maps, and forms. I’ll bet that most of the information design that you have encountered has been poorly done – how many of you have had to cope with websites that were difficult to navigate or figure out or have tried to fill out forms that were almost impossible to use? That is because the information was designed (if you want to call it that…) from the perspective of the “owners” of the information and how they thought people should access and understand this information rather than being designed from the perspective of the people who were supposed to use this information, that is, what these “users” of the information want or need to know and how to access it. This latter approach to information design is called “user-based design” and it’s what I do. My work and research maintain that the key to effective user-based information design is the personalization of information.
Designers must find ways to make information personally meaningful for individuals. In other words, that information must resonate with and make a connection with an individual’s personal experience. The methodology that I advocate for personalizing information is storytelling. What I do is learn the story of the information and the story of people’s experiences – their thoughts, action, and emotions – with this (or similar kinds of) information and then interweave these stories to create a new story in which the content and presentation of the information is shaped by the informational needs of those who use the information.
This past August the ELCA church-wide assembly voted to affirm full-inclusion of glbt – that is, gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgender – people into the life of the church. No longer do glbt pastors and seminarians have to choose between their love of God and their love of their partners. Now pastors and congregations can, without fear of sanctions, bless same-sex couples. This change in policy came about through years of work and advocacy of so many talented and committed people. But I think what made the difference – and what was at the heart of all the work and effort – were our stories: the stories of glbt people who were convinced of the love of God in their lives and the stories of their families and friends who knew that God’s love embraces us all. The stories of people like Brad Schmeling, Emily Eastwood, Jim Bischoff, Phyllis Zillhart, and Anita Hill are stories of faith, hope, and a desire to serve the church as individuals who happen to be gay and lesbian. Their stories (and many more like them) put faces on the term “homosexual”; their stories – and all our glbt stories – turn the abstraction of “gay” into the personal of “me.” I am not an abstraction; I am not a stereotype. I am, like you, created in the image of God, am blessed by grace through the life and death of Jesus, and am empowered by the Holy Spirit.
And so my story – my role – as an open lesbian in the ELCA, while nothing compared to the stories of those who have been affected most deeply by the anti-gay policies of the ELCA or who have spent incredible amounts of time and energy working to change those policies, has been the willingness to be one of those faces of glbt people in the church. Through my participation and very presence in various activities in the ELCA, I have served as an example that “homosexuality” is not an abstraction, that a gay Christian is not an oxymoron, and that I am not a threat to your faith because I am a gay Christian or because God’s loving embrace is for all of us. My story – like the story of every glbt person in the ELCA – is the personalization of the information that nothing can separate us from the love of Christ. My story is simply that I stand among you and that I, like you, have experienced the joys and frustrations of life but most importantly, have experienced God’s grace and forgiveness.
A number of years ago, then Southeast Michigan Synod Bishop Bob Rimbo held a series of synod-wide conversations on the subject of homosexuality and the ELCA. These conversations were open to all members of all the synod’s congregations. At the first of these sessions, people were seated at tables and asked to discuss the subject with each other. The people at my table took turns expressing their feelings. The first to speak were two men who were especially vocal about disliking glbt people. They began by expounding on the “gay agenda,” stating that they don’t associate with gays and lesbians, would not want their kids taught by “those people,” and that if gays and lesbians wanted to be in the church then they should change their ways and “be like the rest of us.” One person at the table timidly mentioned having a gay relative; another thought a co-worker might be gay. By the luck of the draw, I was the last to speak: “As a lesbian…” I began. The two guys who disliked glbt folks dropped their jaws in surprise and the others were suddenly paying close attention. The two guys acknowledged that they had never been around a gay person before (ha! – at least that’s what THEY thought!) let alone been in conversation with a gay or lesbian person. The others at the table asked questions and at the end of the session thanked me for my comments and said that they were now encouraged to talk with their relative and co-worker and to hear their stories. I have no idea where these people are now in their faith journey, but at least, because of our conversation, glbt people were no longer an abstraction but real human beings and, just maybe, could also be thought of as brothers and sisters in Christ.
My life as a glbt person in the ELCA is inexorably intertwined with my life at Lord of Light Lutheran Church – and the story of Lord of Light (LOL). After learning of the vote for full-inclusion at church-wide this August, Mert and I talked about what the vote meant for LOL and how it would affect things here. We both agreed that the vote did not change anything at LOL – LOL has been practicing full-inclusion all along. Rather it meant that the ELCA was now catching up with LOL. I don’t where I would be today without LOL. At LOL I found a community welcoming of glbt persons – we participate in worship, church council, committees, study groups, and service activities. As a campus ministry, LOL fosters questioning and supports each person’s faith journey. My involvement with glbt advocacy in the ELCA is grounded in my life at LOL. Through LOL I was introduced to Lutherans Concerned/North America (LCNA) – attending local chapter meetings and national conferences, and doing some design work for Lutherans Concerned such as the worship resource for same-sex blessings. I have been on the Southeast Michigan Synod Gay and Lesbian Task Force and was on the ELCA Gay and Lesbian Hospitality task force, for which I designed the resulting resource materials (I used a photo of the front door of LOL for the poster!). LOL was the nexus for the 1997 Knutson conference, “The Gifts We Offer, The Burdens We Bear.” Phil Knutson, after whom the conferences are named and funded, was a gay man and ELCA pastor and the brother of our own Mary Olson. Pastor Sue was the LOL intern that year and was very involved with the conference planning. I, too, was on the planning committee and designed the conference materials (ads, registration forms, programs, etc. – and the poster for the conference that hangs in the narthex today).
I have attended special conferences, such as the Reconciling Church conference in Minneapolis, that helped keep the need for full-inclusion before the national church. I served on the initial Extraordinary Candidacy Committee for seminarians who were dropped by their regular Candidacy Committees after revealing their sexual orientation and refusing to deny the gift of same-sex partners. I also served on the board of Lutheran Lesbian and Gay Ministries (LLGM), which was formed in response to the 1990 censure (and later expulsion) of St. Francis and United Lutheran congregations in San Francisco who called two lesbians and a gay man as pastors. LLGM provided financial and spiritual support to congregations and ministries that called glbt pastors. (LLGM is now ELM, Extraordinary Lutheran Minstries.) I have served on the board of Lutheran Human Relations Association (LHRA), a voice for peace and justice, as its glbt representative. I have helped out with discussions of glbt issues at LOL, designed bulletins for RIC Sunday services, and shared in LOL services that celebrated the lives and gifts of glbt people. LOL hosted a memorial service in the wake of the murder of Matthew Shepard and it was at that service that I first heard Ann Arbor’s OutLoud Chorus perform. I was so moved by their performance that I later joined the Chorus. The leadership at LOL has been unfailing in its support of glbt people. The pastors who have served LOL and whom I know and love – Galen Hora, John Rollefson, and Sue Sprowls – have been tireless advocates, committed to and actively engaged in changing attitudes and ELCA policies towards glbt people. I was so proud of and humbled by John Rollefson’s response to the following question that was once asked of him, “What if the church threatens you with sanctions for performing same-sex blessings?” “I’ll keep doing them,” he said. “I have to follow my conscience.” And I am so grateful to Pastor Sue for her vote at the ELCA assembly that has now made full-inclusion a reality. LOL’s glbt support has flowed over to providing internship opportunities for glbt seminarians and for seminarians who strongly pro-glbt. I have been privileged to be on several intern support committees.
My partner, Julia, and I have been together 25 years and that is almost as long as I have been at LOL (26 years). She has lived through all my involvement with glbt advocacy in the ELCA and has seen my hopes for change in the church rise and fall over the years. At times she would ask why I kept going to conferences and meetings when it seemed like things were not going to change. Why would I want to belong to an organization that did not want me in it? Goodness knows that I was sometimes tempted to chuck it all and, until this past August, never really knew if I would see change in my lifetime. What kept me going was a comment that I heard at a LC conference long ago: the ELCA is my home, too. We simply need to make room for each other; no one should be asked to leave or feel unwelcome. God’s love encompasses us all. Ultimately my story is the story of God’s wide-flung love for all people and all of creation. It’s the story of Jesus’s embrace, who shares my pain and grief, my hope and joy, and says, “I am with you always.” It’s the story of the Holy Spirit’s presence through the lives of those around me who are the blessings in my life. My story isn’t heroic or remarkable, but it’s God’s gift to me and if my story helps someone understand that glbt people are part of God’s plan for the ELCA, then my story has a purpose – to help the ELCA create its own new inclusive story.
Many thanks to all who have made my story possible – especially to you, the community of LOL. Thanks for your welcome, thanks for your presence in my life, and for the light of God in your hearts that shines through your words and actions. You live the Gospel, welcoming all as Jesus did. Through your generosity and hospitality, you are helping to create more stories that will contribute to making the church a welcoming home for everyone.
