Fast forward several years — I’d returned to my home town and congregation after living away. I didn’t know either of the pastors very well. Women’s ordination failed to get the right number of votes again and I was baffled. I wrote an email to the pastors about it and the younger pastor responded, assuring me that there were actually strong arguments on both sides of the debate. When I saw him after church one day we spoke about it and he explained, in a rather condescending manner, that it was a complicated issue involving something called ‘hermeneutics’ which would be hard for me to understand. I suspect he had no logical arguments so he was trying to throw around some theological jargon to get me to drop it. I did. My parents were nearby and I did not have the energy to pursue an argument with a pastor, especially if I’d then have to sit through my parents having a go at me as well. I told myself that he seemed nice enough, he must be trying to stay neutral for the sake of unity within the church.
Months later my now-husband and I met this pastor to commence our marriage preparation course. As we got to know him it became clear that not only did he hold some very conservative opinions, but he must not have a very diverse group of family or friends. When he found out my husband was an atheist he was visibly shocked. He asked him where his capacity to love came from. Pastor explained that for Christians like him and myself, our capacity to love came from Jesus but as my husband didn’t have Jesus, how did he know how to love? This man honestly seemed to believe that Christians had a monopoly on love. That should have been a sign but I figured it’s not his fault he’s just lived a very sheltered life and doesn’t have any non-Christian friends. Perhaps I should have given the guy a heads-up before springing my atheist fiancé on him. We’d caught him off-guard and he said something stupid. It happens to all of us.
At the time I was suffering from a mystery illness (one that wouldn’t be diagnosed until years later) while trying to maintain a stressful work and study schedule. We had to do some pre-marriage surveys and they showed I was experiencing high levels of anxiety. The pastor seemed quite sympathetic and genuinely concerned about my wellbeing. As the wedding loomed closer and it came time to finalise the programme I explained to him which parts of the ‘Foundation and Purpose of Marriage’ passage I wanted left out. Frankly there was a lot of it that didn’t even fit my beliefs as a Christian, let alone my husband’s beliefs. To me, most of the passage seemed cherry-picked so that heterosexual couples could give themselves a pat on the back for their life choices and good luck. The weirdness of the Order of Marriage document really deserves a blog post of its own. I didn’t know why we needed to hear about femaleness and or maleness at our wedding, we were just two human beings. And I didn’t think my objections would be an issue because printed underneath the heading of this part of the order of marriage document it says “the minister reads some or all of the following passages to the congregation and particularly to the couple being married.” Some or all. Pastor wanted to read it ALL. This struck me as peculiar because I knew for a fact other couples, including much older people in the congregation omitted that “Wives, be subject to your husbands…” line when they got married 50+ years ago. So why couldn’t we just leave out the bits about “male” and “female” too? What was the big deal about “male” and “female?” What about same-sex couples? Well, bringing up same-sex marriage was the last straw for our pastor. He said he didn’t know why I was bothering with a Christian wedding if that was what I really thought and that he felt the whole ceremony was being compromised (even though the document clearly said some or all) and that I was welcome to hire a celebrant instead. He threatened to quit. Two weeks out from the wedding.
The insinuation that I wasn’t a real Christian is a hurt I think a lot of WO advocates can relate to and something I have seen a lot on social media. I still struggle with what to do about this man’s bullying tactics. I made the mistake of telling my family. Of course they didn’t see what the big deal was and took his side. I know that in the scheme of things it isn’t all that terrible. I’m not suggesting he should lose his job or anything. But it was wrong of him to threaten to quit so close to the wedding in order to try and pressure me into including passages in the ceremony that the LCA does not even require. It shouldn’t have happened. It was an abuse of power and it was particularly dreadful because he knew what my anxiety levels were like at the time. No doubt he feels I sinned against him for daring to suggest same-sex marriage was okay. After a few days I caved — on the condition that just the “Wives, be subject to your husbands…” sentence was omitted. He agreed. And he stuck to the agreement — I was worried I’d have to awkwardly interrupt him during the wedding but he did keep his word. There are times when I’ve wondered if I should have pursued the issue further but I don’t know what that would have achieved.
Still, without any acknowledgement of wrongdoing from him or any closure for myself, I began to dread running into him. Having lived away for a few years, I noticed a lot of the more ‘progressive’ voices within the congregation had left. Few talked about social justice issues anymore. My health problems worsened and I found myself turning to books and online sources to meet my spiritual needs rather than trekking all the way to church. The bonus was that it meant I didn’t have to see that man. I found like-minded souls in the Support for Women’s Ordination in the LCA Facebook group including some of those ‘progressive’ voices from my childhood who had left. I prayed and prayed and eagerly awaited the results of the 2018 WO vote. I was pregnant with my first child when the results came through. Still a clear majority but not enough of a majority to make it happen. In that moment I knew there was no way I was baptising my child in the Lutheran church.
I’d visited a church of another denomination located close to my home a few times but it was after the vote that I started attending regularly. I haven’t withdrawn my membership. I still consider myself Lutheran, I still read the newsletters and social media posts, I haven’t converted. But. I now look forward to going to church again. I actually listen and reflect during the sermons rather than rewriting them in my head. My children are growing up seeing male and female ministers preach God’s word. It is freeing being able to worship away from my conservative family and I’m slowly learning that it’s okay to ask questions, express my opinions and speak openly about my mental health struggles without constantly looking over my shoulder. I know I can invite friends from different cultures, faith backgrounds and sexualities to church without worrying that they’ll be made to feel uncomfortable. And if I did decide to pursue a career in the ministry I have the option of converting. I can’t say I’ve been “called” in the concrete way that so many Lutheran pastors talk about “the call.” It’s not a call. For me, anyway. It’s not even a text message. It’s more like a hand waving from a great distance only to disappear for months at a time leaving you wondering if you even really saw it in the first place. It may be too late at this point. I’ve gotten used to a certain lifestyle. Perhaps one of my children will be a minister. I’d be so proud. If you’ve got this far you can see it wouldn’t be accurate to say that I left because of the WO issue as there were a number of factors that contributed. It was just the straw that broke the camel’s back. But I am healing and praying for a more inclusive LCA. And thanking God for all you wonderful ‘progressive’ Christians.
P.S. The LCA is a small world so if you’ve guessed who I am, please keep it under your hat.
This is the second part of the story A Matter of Progress. Part I is published here.
