HEROES COME IN ALL SHAPES
“MILK”

St. Andrew's-Wesley United Church

Rev. Gary Paterson

March 22, 2009

 

Confession time… I am old enough to remember what it was like to be gay in Vancouver in the nineteen-sixties and seventies; to remember the fear, the anxiety, the shame and the hidden connections that seemed to be all that was possible. I remember the slow change – 1968, and Trudeau’s proclamation that the government had no business in the bedrooms of the nation; a recognition that life could be different, that acceptance of difference might be possible. I remember the arrival of hope. I am also old enough to remember the assassination of Harvey Milk, the pain of it, and the worry that progress could be reversed; it had happened before.

Which is probably why I cried during the film, “Milk.” Tears of joy at the moments of victory – when Harvey Milk was elected in 1977 as a Supervisor, Councillor, for the city of San Francisco… the first openly gay person to be elected to public office in North America. And the defeat of Proposition 6, despite the backing of Anita Bryant and her anti-gay campaigns, a law that would have allowed the government to fire any gay or lesbian person who was employed in the public educational system; in fact, the power to fire anyone who supported gay and lesbian rights. There were tears of grief too, at Harvey Milk’s death, the cost that accompanies the demand for change. And yes, there were also tears of fierce determination, that the changes would keep rolling, that gay and lesbian people would be accepted for who they were; that all people who had been pushed to the margins, told they were sick, sinful, unwanted – that they too would be welcomed into the circle – to echo the hymn we just sang:

Draw the circle wide. Draw it wider still.
Let this be our song, no one stands alone, standing side by side.

Watching the film “Milk” made me proud to be a member of the United Church. I know we’re not supposed to be “proud,” but I remember the struggle in our denomination, during the 1980’s, as we debated the place of gay and lesbian people in the life of the church. I remember all the study groups and discussions in church lounges and basements… the solid Biblical and theological work; the conversation about sexuality in all its many expressions, as we attempted to address the question of what it might mean to be a sexual person and a Christian. It sure wasn’t easy… lots of hurt, misunderstanding, heartfelt disagreements; lots of pain on all sides of the debate.

I remember the 1988 General Council as it gathered at the University of Victoria, a time of debate and decision making on the resolution: “In and of itself sexual orientation is no barrier to full membership in the United Church.” There were three thousands resolutions against the motion; and three hundred in support. But then the totally unexpected happened – what seemed like a forgone conclusion started to shift, as people struggled hard to listen to each other, and to be open to the Spirit. Especially to the Spirit… and to probably everyone’s surprise we found ourselves voting strongly in favour of the motion. That’s over twenty years ago… and the United Church is still one of only a handful of denominations that is clear that gay and lesbian people are part of the circle of God’s love and have unique and special gifts; that God loves diversity, and challenges all of us, regardless of orientations, to live lives of faithful discipleship, committed to justice, compassion and integrity.

I also cried at the ending of “ Milk” – after Harvey’s assassination, when the streets were filled with thirty thousand men and women, with their candles, walking in the evening shadows, offering up their grief and their determination; when the film’s director Van Sant did a voice over, as if Harvey Milk were actually addressing the crowd; that’s when I felt like I was hearing gospel:

If a bullet should enter my brain let it destroy every closet door. I ask that the movement continue… because it’s not about personal gain; it’s not about ego; it’s not about power. It’s about the “us’s” out there. Not just the gays, but the blacks, and the Asians, and the seniors, and the disabled – the “us’s”. Without hope the “us’s’ give up. I know you can’t live on hope alone, but without hope, life is not worth living. So you… and you… and you… you gotta give ‘em hope; you gotta give ‘em hope.

You could find that kind of speech on almost any page of the Bible; you wouldn’t be surprised to see it there. Instead of gays and blacks… and all the other groups we could name, the Bible talks about the widows and orphans, the alien worker, the poor; and Jesus would have added tax collectors, Samaritans, prostitutes, lepers… and a whole bunch of other sinners. Same idea though… all those people who have been forgotten, despised, rendered powerless, invisible; on the edges, the margins?... well, they belong! The task to make the circle wider, to become a community of justice, compassion, radical inclusion… to faithfully live with no one outside the circle of God’s love.

Hey, you don’t believe me, then listen to the opening lines of Jesus’ first sermon; he starts out with some powerful words from the prophet Isaiah… probably lines Harvey Milk wouldn’t have minded borrowing:

The Spirit of the Lord is upon me, because God has anointed me to bring good news to the poor. God has sent me to proclaim release to the captives and recovery of sight to the blind, to let the oppressed go free, to proclaim the year of God’s favour.

And then, according to Luke’s gospel at any rate,

… [Jesus] rolled up the scroll, gave it back to the attendant, and sat down. The eyes of all in the synagogue were fixed on him. Then he began to say to them, “Today this scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing.”

A Biblical spirit was blowing through Harvey Milk, though that’s probably not how he would have described it. Mind you, he was a Jew, and while not practicing, those stories --- Egypt, Moses, Exodus… freedom – they would be in his blood.

And he would have known how so many of those stories end… whenever you start dreaming of and working for change, to bring about a transformed world, where justice and love – respect, inclusion, acceptance, freedom – where these shape how things are, the norms and values .. if that’s what you’re trying to do, then expect resistance. Maybe it’s just that we’re so close to Good Friday, but realize that I’ve heard this Harvey Milk story before… sometimes it ends with a cross; sometimes a bullet.

Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not suggesting Harvey Milk is another Jesus. No, no… he was an odd hero, flawed, and tormented by his own demons. His personal life was a bit of a mess; they say he had a penchant for taking cute, troubled men under his wing… with not always great outcomes. I was told by someone who had known Harvey, that he had a squeaky voice; that he looked awkward… did you see how Sean Penn caught that arm gesture when he was speaking? But people could also sense his kindness, and his smarts. He was shrewd… and funny. People got that. And oh, did he have dreams, on whose behalf he was willing to go the whole way.

It wasn’t always that way… we see Harvey marking his 40th birthday, telling the guy whom he’d picked up that evening, “I’m forty years old and I haven’t done a thing that I’m proud of.” Maybe we can see ourselves in Harvey… ordinary people who really do have what it takes; whose lives can be turned upside down, who can be changed, transformed. It can happen; it happened to Harvey Milk; following the Christ path is not beyond any of us. And it sure doesn’t mean we have to be perfect… just faithful.

One person can make a difference; you can make a difference. One person, like Craig Kielberger who started up “Free the Children” or Hanley Denning, who started up the Safe Passage school at the garbage dump in Guatemala City – I mean, here we are, at St. Andrew’s-Wesley, raising money this Lent for both of these dreams. Think of the difference that our own kids are making, Russell, Emily, Timothy, Margaret and all the others.

There is a wonderful snippet from the poet Adrienne Rich that comes to mind:

My heart is moved by all I cannot save,

So much has been destroyed.

I have to cast my lot with those

Who, age after age, perversely,

With no extraordinary power,

Reconstitute the world.

It sounds like not a bad description of Harvey Milk… well, of lots of people I know. Ordinary, with no extraordinary power, who, over and over, sometimes in very strange perverse ways, help things change… they… and isn’t this a fine phrase… they “reconstitute the world.”

Yesterday I was doing one of my favourite Saturday things… curled up on the sofa, good cup of coffee… and “The Globe and Mail;” for the whole morning. Came across three different stories that just jumped into this sermon, three people, who with no extraordinary strength, reconstituted the world. Check out the article by Steve Dennis, talking about why he continues to be involved in Les Medecins sans Frontieres, that despite the fear as more abductions and killings occur, he knows he is helping to change lives. He talked about Laura Archer, the Canadian nurse who also works with Doctors without Borders; remember, she was recently taken prisoner in Sudan. She’s been released, but talk about a willingness to reconstitute the world; Harvey Milk would be proud.

Then there was the story about Noel MacDonald and his wife Marg Meikle – any of you remember Marg in her role as the CBC Question Lady… well, she hasn’t done any broadcasting recently because Parkinson’s is slowly stripping away her mobility. What difference could they make? Well, they decided to fund-raise… though just in a small way. They borrowed an idea from a church… and began offering occasional breakfast fundraisers – porridge, actually; they called it “Porridge for Parkinson’s” – Harvey Milk would smile. There friends kept coming; and then their friends; and then some folk who were almost strangers…. there are Porridge for Parkinson’s events now in Toronto, Calgary, Fredericton and Texas. At last count, with matching grants, Marg Meikle and her husband Noel have raised $450,000.

Then I was at the Obit page… and just happened to read an article about the co-founder of the Elderhostel movement. Marty Knowlton was his name. Who knew? He had been involved in the Youth Hostel movement; seemed to him that it was a logical transfer to seniors. He was pretty clear: “One of the most despicable aspects of modern industrial society: the disturbing concept that people are all used up after age 65.” Anybody here resonate? It was way back in 1975 that Marty started off the first elderhostel…. small scale, at four universities in New Hampshire, but I tell you, there’s been no looking back.

I say to myself, “I WANT to cast my lot with those who, age after age, perversely, with no extraordinary power, reconstitute the world.” There’s something so appealing about living an authentic life; where you feel proud of what you’ve done, what you’re doing; where you help love and mend the world. Many of us in our Lenten groups have been pondering some of Parker Palmer’s writings, and I hear a resonance…

“Ask me whether what I have done is my life.”… the poet’s words [are] precise, piercing, and disquieting. They remind me of moments when it is clear – if I have eyes to see—that the life I am living is not the life that wants to live in me. In those moments, I sometimes catch a glimpse of my true life, a life hidden like the river beneath the ice. And … I wonder, “What am I meant to do? Who am I meant to be?
           (40-Day Journey with Parker Palmer, p. 54)

Those sound like Harvey Milk questions; they sound like questions Jesus invited people to ponder.

But this film, “Milk,” also helps us recognize that it’s never just about one person; it’s also about community; people working and living together. Harvey is clear that whatever is happening is not just about him. As he said a number of times, “I’m not a candidate, I’m part of a movement.” And in that final voice over, as the candles are moving down the street, “If there should be an assassination, I would want five… ten… a hundred… a thousand to rise.” It’s acting together, the groundswell, the community willing to engage in the work for justice… that’s when things happen. Sometimes it takes a voice, a body, a death, to spark it off. But it can happen; and the circle can grow wider. It’s almost a cliché… but remember those words from Margaret Mead, “Never doubt that a small group of thoughtful, committed citizens can change the world. Indeed, it is the only thing that ever has.”

I want to share a poem with you. The last time I spoke these words was at a demonstration …October 08, at the corner of Davie and Burrard,the community coming together to protest the violent gay-bashing of Jordon Smith and his boyfriend. You remember… the two gay guys walking home, holding hands; a car screeching to a halt, four guys charging out, visitors to the neighbourhood. “Faggot” was their battle cry as they attacked Jordon and his friend … fists, booted feet, a shattered jaw. The community needed to hear a Christian voice condemn this violence to two gay men. This is how I ended, with Marg Piercy’s poem, “The Low Road” --

What can they do

to you? Whatever they want.

They can set you up, they can

bust you, they can break

your fingers, they can

burn your brain with electricity,

blur you with drugs till you

can't walk, can't remember, they can

take your child, wall up

your lover. They can do anything

you can't stop them from doing. How can you stop

them? Alone, you can fight,

you can refuse, you can

take what revenge you can

but they roll over you.

But two people fighting

back to back can cut through

a mob, a snake-dancing file

can break a cordon, an army

can meet an army.

Two people can keep each other

sane, can give support, conviction,

love, massage, hope, sex.

Three people are a delegation,

a committee, a wedge. With four

you can play bridge and start

an organization. With six

you can rent a whole house,

eat pie for dinner with no

seconds, and hold a fund raising party.

A dozen make a demonstration.

A hundred fill a hall.

A thousand have solidarity and your own newsletter;

ten thousand, power and your own paper;

a hundred thousand, your own media,

ten million, your own country.

It goes on one at a time,

it starts when you care

to act, it starts when you do

it again after they said no,

it starts when you say We

and know who you mean, and each

day you mean one more.

What if all these words start weaving together a definition of the church… Two, three, ten, a hundred people called together by a vision where the poor hear good news, where captives are released and the oppressed go free; people who care to act; who, with no extraordinary power, reconstitute the world; a small group of thoughtful, committed followers of Jesus Christ, who keep insisting on trying to live out a holy vision of justice and love, even when the authorities say no; it’s a movement… people of the Way.. the church.

God is working in the church; I believe that. I also know that God is at work in the world, even if the church doesn’t recognize it. Whenever the Christ pattern of being is lived out, that’s where God is to be found. In the life of Harvey Milk perhaps? I had a friend who laughingly suggested that the first thing God says when waking up in the morning, is “Where does my world need mending today?” Our task is to figure out the “where” and then pitch in. We can celebrate the holiness of Harvey Milk’s work; and we can respond to Christ’s invitation to go and do likewise… you and you and you… you gotta give ‘em hope; you gotta give ‘em hope.