I have a problem with the label ‘progressive’. It suggests being more concerned with progress over scripture when in my experience, the opposite is true. It is the ‘progressive’ Christians who are the most committed to understanding scripture through vigorous study of the bible in context. If not for the voices of these ‘progressives’, I may have walked away from the church altogether and probably would have walked away from the Lutheran Church of Australia (LCA) much earlier. It is thanks to these voices I recognised from a young age that there are many different ways to be a Christian and that I was really a different kind of Christian to the rest of my family. My parents are rather conservative, my mum in particular. They come from a very patriarchal, very hierarchical culture where daughters are expected to agree with them about everything or be silent. Similarly, they would never openly disagree with a figure of authority such as a pastor, they would remain silent. This silence, though it frustrates me, isn’t always such a bad thing. It means that they at least listen — not to me, of course, but to those in positions of authority. Thankfully one of the pastors from the church we attended when I was a youngster was quite the ‘progressive’. This was great for someone like me. It also meant my conservative parents were exposed to some different ideas which could percolate over time.
I remember when women were allowed to administer communion for the first time. It was in the 90s and I was still in Sunday School. Our teachers told us this was likely to be followed by female pastors. I remember thinking it’s so odd that this isn’t already a thing. Certainly all of my predominantly female Sunday School teachers would make great pastors. On the way home my mum said she didn’t think women ought to be allowed to administer communion (let alone be pastors!) because women are dirty, you know, because women bleed. That kind of internalised misogyny runs deep and can’t be erased overnight. Fast forward to today and things are different. Well, Mum is still silent and would prefer if I behaved similarly. She still won’t openly support women’s ordination (WO) but after getting to know a new member of the congregation, Mum recently confided that actually this young lady would make an excellent pastor and that she really hopes she gets to be one. This is quite the turnaround. I know it doesn’t translate to more votes but it made me so happy. I hope it inspires others to keep building relationships and keep sharing their stories — because this is the stuff changes minds. While I often clash with my parents over matters of faith, I am grateful that they raised me Lutheran and grateful the LCA has members with a diverse range of perspectives. And I think my parents silence on a lot of issues is common for many immigrants and really quite understandable in a society where it is safer for people of colour to just keep their heads down lest they be labelled troublemakers.
While there is a lot of diversity within the LCA, I can’t say I have seen a lot of commitment to cultural awareness and anti-racism, apart from grass-roots level stuff by the same ‘progressives’, most of whom are also working towards WO. I have fond memories growing up in an LCA church but it wasn’t always easy. I was the only person of colour at Youth Group. I remember one night, a teenage boy came running into the hall, shrieking:
“There’s an Aboriginal in the kitchen!”
The gentleman in the kitchen was in fact someone known to myself and many members of the congregation, a man experiencing homelessness whom the congregation was supporting with meals etc. at the time. The boy’s choice of words made me uncomfortable. I understood that he was likely startled by the appearance of someone who was (to him) a stranger but saddened that all he saw was the colour of this man’s skin. Clearly, this was what frightened him. I asked him later why he described the man this way, why he didn’t simply say there was someone in the kitchen or a stranger in the kitchen. Why specify his ethnicity? The pile-on from the rest of the youth began.
“What’s wrong with the word ‘Aboriginal?’”
“What, we can’t even say the word Aboriginal anymore?”
“Can’t say anything anymore,”
“He could have called him something worse.”
I was supposed to be grateful he didn’t use a racist slur. Everyone reassured the boy that he’d done nothing wrong. A pastor and a youth leader were present. Both appeared to take his side. I had trouble articulating that it wasn’t the word itself but the way it was said, the underlying xenophobia. This teenage boy wasn’t the only one. I had previously noticed several members of the congregation shaking their heads or rolling their eyes in the homeless man’s vicinity when they thought he wasn’t looking. It was disappointing to me that neither the pastor nor the youth leader saw the opportunity to address the boy’s xenophobia, to use it as a teaching moment — this was Youth Group, after all. I was starting to realise that for a person with my skin colour, the mere suggestion that someone may have said or done something racist would be perceived as a greater sin than any actual racism. Years later, I’d learn the term white fragility and it would all make sense. During my time in the LCA I’ve had similar mocking and defensive reactions when broaching topics such as using gender-inclusive language. The eye-rolling.
“Don’t you think you’re overreacting?”
“Let’s not worry about political correctness.”
“It’s just tradition.”
These issues may seem trivial but try to imagine what it is like to have your concerns dismissed again and again and again. It impacts your self-esteem and sense of belonging. This kind of thinking — that language isn’t important, that people just need to toughen up — is holding us back from being a truly inclusive organisation which radiates the radically inclusive love of Jesus.
This is the first part of the story A Matter of Progress. Part II is published here.
