Reflections on Lynchburg II

November, 2002

by Doug Donley

Minneapolis, MN

 

 

 

            In October of 1999, I joined 200 other people trained in nonviolence in a journey to Lynchburg, Virginia.  We went to meet 200 people from Thomas Road Baptist Church and Liberty University, both of which are presided over by Jerry Falwell.  The 400 of us sat around tables telling and hearing each other’s stories.  We promised not to judge each other.  We told our truth and took those tentative steps across the chasm that often divides the gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender communities and their allies from conservative evangelicals.  We made lasting friendship and heard Jerry Falwell promise to scale back his rhetoric against the GLBT communities.  He did, for a while.  As the months passed from that kairos event in ’99, Jerry went back to his old ways.  We called him on it, he repented and then repeated his anti-gay rhetoric.  So Soulforce went back to Lynchburg October 25-27 2002. 

Three years later, I had three more years of Soulforce organizing under my belt.  I had seen many lives changed at actions at the national meetings of the Methodists, the Lutherans, the Presbyterians, and even the Southern Baptists.  I knew that the presence of Soulforce saves lives because people see hundreds of people in the streets tirelessly working for the day when all will be welcomed at God’s table.   And yet, three years of continuing untruths had passed.  Three years of hate crimes.  Three years of sincere people doing acts of violence sincerely thinking they are following God’s will.  It was time to go back, to confront the untruth, to put my body, my heart and myself in the way of the violence.  I told a member of my church, as she dropped me off at the airport, that if I could save just one person from committing suicide, then my time, energy and money would be worthwhile.

            On October 26, 2002, we staged the first Pride festival ever to be held in Lynchburg.  The Pride festival was important because the culture of Lynchburg is one of fear for the GLBT communities.  Many are not able to be out of the closet about their sexual orientation at their jobs, in their churches, and with their families.  We offered our presence to help create a safe place of acceptance, if even for a weekend.  Under a rainbow arc of balloons in Riverside Park, we danced, sang, told our stories and witnessed to the fact that God loves all people regardless of their sexual orientation.

            We met many people who were thrilled that we were there, young and old, gay and not so gay, in the closet and out of the closet.  500 people celebrated with us.  Still, many stayed away.  Many did not feel comfortable or safe.  Many feared for their safety.  Closeted students from Liberty University stayed away for fear of expulsion.  They had good reason to stay away.  We were not the only ones there.  There were about 20 counter-demonstrators.  They held up signs condemning the GLBT communities.  They used bullhorns to berate the crowds.  They used scare-tactics to again intimidate those brave enough to come out. 

           

 

 

 

It took all of our strength to maintain our vows of nonviolence.  We were taught that love is more powerful than hate.   When we were met with verbal blows we voluntarily took them onto ourselves without retaliation. We were taught to ignore the protestors, not engage with them and not give credence to their message.  It’s not that their message didn’t have credibility or validity, but this is not about debate.  They have had their say freely over the airwaves for years.  This was our weekend to have our say.  To get into a shouting match with a few activists would have caused us to lose our focus.  Since we did not want them to usurp our message, we did our level best to ignore them.  But the more we ignored them, the more they upped the ante of their toxic rhetoric. They started making direct, personal and explicit remarks to individuals in the crowd.  It took tremendous courage not to be drawn into the desire to have our revenge, to match their verbal and spiritual violence with some violence of our own. 

            It was hard, though.  The venom was powerful and we wept and we prayed through it all.  I took to singing hymns:  “Jesus loves me this I know, for the Bible tells me so…Precious Lord, take my hand I am weak, I am tired I am sore…What a friend we have in Jesus…”  I even found myself singing the secular songs of my childhood. “It’s a beautiful day in the neighborhood…Would you be mine, could you be mine, won’t you be my neighbor”.   Some of the hecklers were almost as young as my kids.  They were told by their parents to say things like: “Got AIDS yet?”, and “God hates fags”.  It was too toxic for some of us.  I got a taste of what my GLBT sisters and brothers endure all too often.

Soulforce teaches us that the counter-protesters are not our enemies, they are victims of untruth, just as we have been.  Untruth is the enemy.  If we had responded in violence, it would have escalated the problem, like adding gasoline to a fire.  Eventually, the counter-demonstrators got so tired, they simply packed up and left.  We fought back, without fighting back.  We fought against them by taking in their verbal blows so that we could diffuse them.  This is what we call voluntary redemptive suffering. 

            When Sunday rolled around, we went to Thomas Road Baptist Church.  Unlike last time, we did not enter the church.  We did not eat a meal with Jerry Falwell and his people, nor did we expect to.  Three years ago they withdrew their promise to provide us with food because a passage out of First Corinthians states that one should not eat with sinners.  We stood in silent prayerful vigil outside of his church and passed out flyers and brochures to all who would accept them.  The detailed booklets once again demonstrated the tragic consequences of the untruths about God’s GLBT children.

            Jerry Falwell didn’t pay us any mind, but his son Jonathan did.  He came across the street, greeted us and cordially welcomed us to Lynchburg.  The best part of the day was when two church volunteers brought us the leftover doughnut holes they had provided for people coming to worship at Thomas Road Baptist Church that morning.  It was an unsanctioned, unplanned spontaneous gift of spirit.  I don’t even thing they realized the powerful statement that it made.  Three years ago, they would not permit us to eat a meal with them, citing scriptural injunctions against eating with sinners.  The 400 of us sat around tables with bottled water.  But this year, people gave us doughnuts on the picket line, bridging that gap and making a powerful theological statement.  I have to believe that there is hope for Jerry and his people.  But I am not waiting for his people to come around.  I’ll continue to do my work.  I will relentlessly resist untruth and witness with all my might to the fact that God loves all people regardless of sexual orientation.

 

Rev. Doug Donley is heterosexual and Pastor of University Baptist Church in Minneapolis.