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A fellow named Dann Hazel contacted me last spring to ask if I would agree to be interviewed for a book he is writing about the professional journeys of gay and lesbian priests and ministers.
His volume is scheduled for publication by Westminster Press later this year, and he is using my story. I am honored to be included. That he has named this chapter "Faith and Being Gay Matter" has also touched me.
In early January, after I had helped Dann finalize the material he is using, and after I accepted an invitation to become Interim Protestant Campus Minister at UVM, I found myself floundering in a sea of anger, sadness, and pain. I did not understand the origin of these feelings, nor could I seem to shake loose from them. They started to make me feel crazy, or mad, which doesn't surprise me when I look back over it all.
I finally began to put "two and two" together in the middle of a Wednesday evening alternative worship service at St. Paul's in Burlington. Participants at these services are invited to respond to the readings in lieu of a sermon. My epiphany was a result of hearing a poem by Mary Oliver called "The Journey." In it, she talks about how listening to our internal voice is synonymous with saving the only life we can: our own. I began to listen to the voice within me, and this made it possible for me to recognize the source of my anguish.
I realized during that worship service how many emotional injuries I have incurred while pursuing my professional career in ministry. Primarily the result of homophobic behavior and attitudes, they include self-inflicted wounds as well as those inflicted by others.
As I sat there pondering Mary Oliver's wisdom, these wounds seemed all the more senseless, painful, and maddening to me in the light of my being hired by UVM on an out basis.
My soul was all tangled up in one question: "How come 15 years ago it was not OK to be out in order to get a job in ministry, while today it's not only neutral, it can be seen as an asset? It all feels so maddeningly crazy to me!"
I am glad I had the courage to tell the others in that service how I felt, because one of them came up to me afterwards and said, "Your anger is holy anger — please don't ever forget that. You have every right to feel what you are feeling. I can't imagine feeling any other way if I were you."
In that moment, her words dissolved my feelings of craziness and madness. Instead of feeling crazed by my anger, I now felt blessed by it.
Anger is the emotion we feel in response to being hurt or the threat of being hurt. When acknowledged and validated, it can give us the energy and motivation to address events so that we can change our own behavior and attitudes or ask others to do so.
I don't think there is any coincidence that the word 'mad' is synonymous with the word 'anger.' Madness matters, all right, because left unacknowledged and invalidated, anger tends to make us feel crazy and do crazy things we usually live to regret.
Unfortunately, in our culture expressing feelings of anger is not exactly accepted. I would like to print a bumper sticker that says, "Nice people don't get angry. They get ulcers, migraines, heart attacks, break downs, strokes, cancer, etc." Many people, trying to be 'nice' internalize their anger to the point that they get ill. Many others, unable to be 'nice' and ignore pent-up rage and pain, wind up expressing anger through violence.
To handle anger in these ways is crazy and maddening! It's no wonder people don't want to deal with anger if these are seen as the only options for acknowledging and validating angry feelings.
My experience in the alternative worship service reminded me that faith matters and madness matters intersect when we take courage in hand and tell people about the anger we feel and why. Trusting others with the truth about our feelings, even when we are embarrassed, scared, and worried about what they may think, begins with faith in the validity of our own feelings, especially ones of anger and outrage.
Ironically, when we have the courage to speak about the truth of our anger, when we say out loud where we hurt and why, we also inspire others to do the same for themselves -- even if it takes them aback at first. We also give them a chance to be the voice of The Holy One through whom we hear the comforting words of support, validation and acknowledgement we need. When we do this, we let our faith intersect with our madness in ways that make healing possible; isn't this part of what ultimately matters the most to us all anyway?
Rev. Christine Leslie is the director of Triangle Ministries - A Center for Lesbian & Gay Spiritual Development. She can be reached at (802) 860-7106 or by email.
