St James’s Piccadilly London
Trinity 5 & LGBT Pride
The Revd Hugh Valentine with contributions from
The Revd Mercia McMahon and Dr Steve Innes
Matthew 16.13-19
What do you make of Jesus? An LGBT perspective
sjp.org.uk
For many years St James’s has marked the annual London LGBT Pride march at the following day’s
Eucharist. A large rainbow flag served as the altar frontal today. The sermon included
contributions from members of our community’s LGBT group and the Gospel was read and the
intercessions were offered by members of our LGBT group.
Hugh Valentine
I wonder if you realise just how improbable
what we are doing this morning is? A
Christian community is gathered for its
weekly, principal celebration of the Eucharist
and just as it might mark a saint’s day, or the
Week for Christian Unity or Harvest Festival
here we are marking Pride. Not ‘pride’ as in
the seventh of the cardinal sins. A different
Pride.
It was in the 1970s that gay men and women
began, very tentatively, to organise in
opposition to the routine and pervasive
discrimination, violence and disdain heaped
on them by wider society. It started out as
Gay Pride and is today is also known as LGBT
Pride, standing for Lesbian, Gay, Bi-sexual
and Transgendered. Pride events are held
each year (mainly in the West), usually in
June, and range from the solemn to the
carnivalesque - something you might not
want to take your Great Aunt along to; or
maybe you might find her leading the parade.
This morning, here, is improbable for the
reason that the place of LGBT people in the
life of the Church is a high-voltage,
disputatious, wildly divisive question. ‘God
hates faggots’ say the fundamentalists’
placards; to be gay is to be “intrinsically
disordered” say the Pope and the
magisterium; “hate the sin, love the sinner”
say many a Christian of traditional
persuasion. Even in an inclusive community
such as ours, it is inevitable that people are
at different points on the spectrum of
attitudes and comfort, for attitudes are
changing fast: no wonder that at times we
might feel all a little disoriented.
“Now when Jesus came into the district of
Caesarea Philippi, he asked his disciples,
‘Who do people say that the Son of Man is?’
And they said, ‘Some say John the Baptist,
but others Elijah, and still others Jeremiah or
one of the prophets.’” [from the day’s Gospel
reading, Matthew 16.13-19].
This line from today’s gospel rather takes us
to the heart of the matter. Who do people
say the Son of Man is? The view we hold of
Jesus of Nazareth, the Christ of faith, is likely
to shape our attitudes to very many
questions. Questions about personal
conduct, how society should be ordered,
hierarchies and obedience, service and
generosity, of who is ‘in’ and who is ‘out’.
We Christians have been taking different
views, and often falling out over them, for a
very long time. Should new male converts be
circumcised to be acceptable to God was an
early one. And subsequent conflicts have
arisen over many matters: the making and
keeping of slaves; the place of the poor; the
status of women; the making of war;
colonialism; the role of the clergy vis-à-vis
the laity; the Bible in one’s own tongue; the
permissibility of divorce; of contraception; of
abortion; of lending at interest; of
relationships between different races.
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Painful and traumatic as many of these
matters have been are they are an inevitable
part of our conscientiously seeking after
truth. It seems to be unquestionably the
case that our heated exchanges about LGBT
people in society at large and in the church in
particular belong to this process of truthseeking. And my, how quickly the attitudes
here in the UK and other parts of the world
are moving towards the routine acceptance
of gay and lesbian persons, typified recently
by the numbers voting in the Commons and
the Lords for marriage to be made available
to same-sex couples who seek it.
But intolerance remains widespread, as I am
sure you know. And few are as hostile as
some of our own Anglican brothers and
Christians Together at Pride –
Mercia McMahon
The banner that stands behind the altar was
processed yesterday along Baker Street,
Oxford Street, Regent Street and Pall Mall as
part of the Pride Parade. Those of you with
keener eyesight will notice that it does not
just say St James Piccadilly, but also St Anne’s
Soho, and St Martin-in-the-Fields, Trafalgar
Square. Nowadays, this banner is carried as
part of a much wider group, Christians
Together at Pride. I was one of the founding
members of that organization and I have
been asked to say something about its
purpose this morning.
Once upon a time, the Pride parade went
along Piccadilly and those in the procession
would often be both cheered and cheer
when they saw a Pride flag draped from the
St James Rectory. With the current route,
most people in the parade associate Christian
involvement with the anti-gay protesters
who await the procession as it turns into Pall
Mall. The idea behind Christians Together at
Pride is to show that not all Christians reject
their LGBT brothers and sisters.
sisters in parts of Africa. And even here, in
rapidly changing Britain, young men and
women are, this very day, realising that they
are gay and find themselves falling into
despair because they are certain they will not
meet with support or understanding. The
same is true for those who believe with all
their being that they have been born into the
wrong gender.
We are now going to hear from Mercia, a
trans woman and member of our community,
about Christians Together at Pride, of which
she is a founder member. And then from
Steve, also a member of our community, who
will speak about some of his experiences
within the Christian church.
Christians Together at Pride has a twofold
purpose, one external and one internal.
Externally, to present a positive image of
faith groups to LGBT people who have often
been rejected and deeply hurt by religious
communities; and internally, to affirm and
encourage an inclusive understanding of
Christianity where LGBT and non-LGBT
people can work and worship together.
Both of those purposes can be enhanced by
the involvement of wider church
communities, and not just their LGBT
members. So for next year’s Pride parade day
any of you would be very welcome to take
part in the parade, to join the crowd
watching us in the parade, or coming along to
the Garden Party we host each year after the
march. Of course, next June seems a long
time ahead, but this year there is something
that you could do this Saturday. Christians
Together at Pride have always held an interdenominational eucharist on the day of the
march, but because the Pride Saturday was
brought forward a week, you have an
opportunity to come and worship with a
gathering of LGBT and Non-LGBT people at St
Martin-in-the-Fields. The preacher is the
well-known Dean of St Albans, Jeffrey John.
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It takes place between 5 and 6pm next
Saturday and there are flyers on the notice
stall about it. And at that service we are
hoping that this banner will be processed in
along with banners from other organizations,
so do consider coming along, or being
involved in next year’s activities to show that
Christians can be together at Pride.
Steve Innes – a Testimony
I grew up in a Christian tradition that has
informed a good deal of my understanding
about how a church community can function.
I was taught that the church should value
such things as hospitality, being open and
honest with one another and constantly
examining what it means to love our
neighbour as we worked and learned
together about what kind of life God wants
us to enjoy together. And not only was I
taught these things; I also witnessed some
really beautiful, lived examples of this kind of
community at work, and I myself was the
beneficiary of many blessings that came from
people in this tradition who lived and loved
well.
As an early teenager I soon discovered that
there was an aspect of my life that inherently
clashed with one of the moral rules; indeed,
it was one of the most shameful moral issues
of all: I was a gay man. Seeing the way outed
gay people were treated in this tradition, I
quickly learned that I must find a way to play
the game right or else I too would face the
shame and rejection that other gay people
faced. And let me tell you: for many years, I
was very good at playing the game. As one
who worked on various church staffs, I said
the right things, acted the right way in public,
and I kept my private life very, very private,
to the point where I almost felt like two
different people. I was celebrated for my
ability to play the game: people welcomed
me and trusted me deeply with many aspects
of their lives.
However, a time came where I began to see
that such community always came with
strings attached. Or to paraphrase the words
of my favourite philosopher Emmanuel
Levinas, such community always sought to
reduce otherness to sameness. As long as
one lived by a narrowly defined set of moral
rules (or at least spoke and acted as if one
conformed to these expectations, even if
what went one did behind closed doors was
something quite different), there was
acceptance and embrace. If one was found to
have violated these moral “absolutes” of
community life, then there was
marginalisation and exclusion.
Over the years, I saw many people who broke
these rules leave this community, either
quietly if they were lucky, or in very public
shame. I learned that violating these moral
rules led to a kind of failure that can be seen
by all, and scrutinised by all, and it seemed
that if one failed in this way there would be
no way back.
But one day, about 12 years ago, I slipped up
and was exposed for who I really was. What
followed was, in hindsight, not unsurprising:
Friends became enemies, and colleagues
became judge and jury. I was marginalised
and removed from two church communities
in succession. I had been subjected to the
kind of failure I had feared for much of my
life, and I despaired of what would come of
my life after figuratively being cast into the
outer darkness from the only Christian
tradition I had ever known.
Despite this terrible loss, I was determined
to find a way to be a gay man and live within
a Christian community. At times it felt like
the impossible. Many gay friends seemed
exasperated as to why I would bother with
the church; Christian friends often implied
that while there were many areas of moral
life in which they were willing to “live in the
tension” with those struggling to meet those
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moral demands, homosexuality was not one
of them.
So in 2005 I left the US – or one could say I
fled the US – to come to the UK. As it has
turned out, coming to live in this country has
been a spiritual renaissance; an entire world
of possibilities for Christian life and practice
has been opened to me which I had never
known possible. This renaissance took root
intellectually during my years in Edinburgh,
but it has really unfolded experientially here
in London, with Saint James playing a large
part. From the first time I visited this church a
few years ago, I immediately saw a way of
being a church community that I had always
envisioned but never encountered: Here is a
church that not only refuses to villainise
difference or merely tolerate it – it truly
welcomes the other. Here is an approach to
Christian life that sees the Gospel as an
invitation to celebrate diversity within the
community, and where my partner and I can
be welcomed and enjoyed for who we are. I
know that as a gay man this aspect of my life
will always be “other” to the majority of
people in this community, but what I am
grateful for is that rather than experiencing
this otherness as a source of tension or
aversion, the good people of Saint James
have allowed me to experience this
otherness as a source of God’s goodness and
grace. And for that, and for the way you
have restored and reinvigorated my faith, I
wish to express my heartfelt gratitude. Thank
you.
Concluding part of sermon – Hugh Valentine
“Now when Jesus came into the district of
Caesarea Philippi, he asked his disciples,
‘Who do people say that the Son of Man is?’
And they said, ‘Some say John the Baptist,
but others Elijah, and still others Jeremiah or
one of the prophets.’”
And we might add: “And others say: the Son
of Man thinks women should be subordinate
to men; that Blacks should be subordinate to
The White Man; that some people deserve to
be very rich and powerful whilst others are
destined to be poor and disenfranchised; that
children should knocked into shape; that
weapons of mass destruction are just fine
and moral; that God the Father has a really
short temper and likes to punish people.”
And yet others might say: “hey, we’re not
sure that’s right. They say that the Son of
Man is the incarnation and sign of a God
who’s essential nature is love and whose
purpose is limitlessly creative; who regards
all people as precious; who has fashioned a
kingdom in which all are welcome, where
hate and violence, disdain and contempt,
have no place; where wealth becomes a
snare, where poverty of spirit is a blessing,
where it is good to share.”
So you see, this question of Jesus - who do
you say that I am? - is and remains a preeminent one, directly addressed to every
human heart that takes any interest at all in
the Christian adventure.
The great thing about Gay Pride, LGBT Pride,
is that it affirms the common humanity of us
all. It is not just for those of us who are LGBT,
but everyone. And it seems to be closer to
properly answering Jesus’ question ‘who do
people say the Son of Man is?’ than much of
the dogma and teaching of Popes and
Archbishops and Bishops. It is far more the
true ‘Big Tent’ than that of the political
slogans. It mirrors the vision laid out before
us in the eucharist each week of our glorious
human family being gloriously reconciled to
God through truth and love as exemplified by
Christ. Now, that’s really something to
celebrate. Amen.
sjp.org.uk
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