Tuesday, July 31, 2007

Would you harbor me?

Here are the lyrics to a song I really like:

Would You Harbor Me?
(from Safe House: Still Looking by Y.M. Barnwell (c)1994)


Would you harbor me?
Would I harbor you?
Would you harbor me?
Would I harbor you?

Would you harbor a Christian, a Muslim, a Jew
a heretic, convict or spy?
Would you harbor a run away woman, or child,
a poet, a prophet, a king?
Would you harbor an exile, or a refugee,
a person living with AIDS?
Would you harbor a Tubman, a Garrett, A Truth
a fugitive or a slave?
Would you harbor a Haitian Korean or Czech,
a lesbian or a gay?

Would you harbor me?
Would I harbor you?
Would you harbor me?
Would I harbor you?

We can skip the drama of a world war and concentration camps and Anne Frank in the attic. I have a simpler question, one that requires much less moral courage: Would you let me come to your sacrament meeting?

This isn't just rhetorical. I read a comment on one of the Mormon blogs that said, in effect, that coming to church with my boyfriend would be a witness against "revealed doctrine about the nature of the family." Maybe I'm sensitive, but this just seems wrong. Who cares what I believe or who my pew-mate is? Isn't coming to church about worship and reflection?

Sunday, July 22, 2007

Dear Mr. Church

Sometimes I have felt as a gay Mormon that my relationship with the Church has been like a person in an abusive relationship. This post written by another blogger captures this experience. Quote:
All this time, I wanted to believe that you valued me. But you didn’t. You didn’t. How could you? I mean, who values the mat you step on to get inside the door?? It’s rare to even notice the mat, let alone dwell on its worth to you.

Until it’s suddenly gone on a rainy day.