Civil ceremony doesn't threaten church

Brad Read
Special to The Spokesman-Review
July 3, 2005

I was raised as a Christian. From my earliest memory, the church my mother immersed our family in was my extended family. It was there where I was taught the principle of community, of the unconditional welcome that the life of Jesus represented. As a result, I have felt a renewed sense of anger and sadness as, especially in recent weeks, people claiming Christian values have used fear and misinformation in an effort to fight against equality, on the issues of domestic partner benefits and same-sex marriage. The fear and narrow thinking they represent is completely foreign to what I know of what it means to be Christian.

Sometime in the next few months, the state Supreme Court will rule whether or not same-sex marriage is constitutional in Washington, and whether as a result, the Defense of Marriage Act (defining marriage to be between strictly a man and a woman) is unconstitutional. Many on the Christian Right would have us believe that if the court rules in favor of equal marriage, then the bedrock principles of our Christian civilization will be eroded, ushering in an age of lawless chaos in which Christians will be persecuted and prohibited from practicing their faith.

A little over a year ago, I had the opportunity to participate in an experience that could represent the future for gay and lesbian couples in Washington, and no great crisis ensued.

When my good friends Ann and Melanie were married in March of 2004 in Portland, during the period when their marriage was legal in Multnomah County, my wife and children and I were proud to be witnesses, because we were participating in a moment of real and full equality, the kind promised by the United States Constitution. Even though it was later nullified by Oregon voters, it was a moment when the promises I grew up learning about in school came true.

It was also exactly what I was taught about the inclusiveness of the love of Jesus. But, and here is the important point, while my own religious, spiritual and moral values brought me to that moment in Portland, it had nothing to do with the church. It was about the state recognizing the full rights and equality of all of its citizens. That is what those on the Christian Right would scare us into forgetting.

Equal marriage is about what the state can and should provide, not about restricting the religious rights of individuals or churches. It is precisely the judges and the law that the Christian Right seems to fear that would protect their rights to protest and dissent. If the

Washington state Supreme Court rules against the Defense of Marriage Act, Christians' right to free speech will not be abridged. Their right to worship however they see fit, to preach whatever they like, to speak publicly about their values, none of those will be threatened. They are all protected by the Constitution, which is what this entire debate is about, not the Bible.

Conservative Christians continue to use fear and misdirection to confuse the issues. We must be clear and not let them. If DOMA is ruled unconstitutional, and the way is paved for Washington state to follow in the footsteps of Massachusetts (where people still worship and speak freely), there will be plenty of people in the church that raised me who vehemently disagree with, and who would never agree to, same-sex marriage in the church.

That is fine. That is beside the point. The church is not the state. This issue is about civil marriage, about whether the state will grant the rights and benefits of marriage to everyone. It is about the state protecting all of its citizens from discrimination. Those are Christian values all people in Washington should be proud to uphold.

First comes the shock.....

The following essay was written by Innocent Bystander. It is his reaction to today's bombings in London.

Smoke Dissolves Into Cloud

Many things are memorable; smell, sight, a touch, a feeling, something you can't quite place... something that fits within a vacuum, something that falls between the cracks and you're only aware of its impact by the void that it leaves.

Silence can deafen more than any explosion, than any scream, shout and plea. London was silent this morning.

I don't know what ducks would say if they could talk; "Sell gold, buy oil,", "is brown the new black?", "why are you crying?"... or maybe it's the fact that ducks can't talk, they just sit there... paddle... eat bread... in storms and in the rippling calm. Why do 50 people sit in complete silence staring at ducks for an answer to a question they can't mould into words? That's what I was doing this morning. Staring at ducks. Staring at birds. Staring at anything that can't hurt us or doesn't know what's going on amidst the dust, sirens and people just walking to wherever seems best, wherever they stumble and fall.

When all you see are people with blackened faces, a bus ripped like a coke can mangled by a truant teenager and ambulances buzzing like morbid bees... ducks, the serenity of a park, light rain and peace and quiet becomes a shelter not from bombs, suicide bombers, camera lenses but from what is going on in your own mind. When all around is in agony, all people search for is an anesthetic... however and wherever they find it; paddling ducks, a quiet room to cry in, a guilty laugh with friends or just speaking to someone you haven't spoken to in months.

People in London are not allowed to go to the one place they feel safe; home. Myself like many others are staying wherever they got to, before it all changed, before the buttons were pressed. Sitting in drenched clothes in an office block with no way of getting home. Surreal streets speckled with people not really knowing where to look or how to act, muffling their voice and looking tired as if the moment the alarm clock shrills and the eyes grudgingly open has been recorded and permanently displayed on everyone's face.

I don't really know what to say, if there is anything I can say... I don't feel like crying, I don't feel like revenge, I don't feel any kind of hatred; towards individuals, towards faith, towards a nation. I don't really feel anything. I have no cuts, bruises or smoke inhalation but feel like something has been abrased and the body's gone numb. Nothing has sunk in; like that moment when the trap slams shut and the anticipation of something like pain drowns out the feeling and knowing of something like pain.

Terrorism and London unfortunately has had a lengthy marriage; with dissident Irish factions loading dustbins with semtex, a new age of paranoia and fear will only hold London in its grip for decades to come. How can you ride the bus when anybody can be your tormentor? Will that overloaded ruck-sack just be an irritant or your silver bullet?

Today, a London bus was the worst possible method of transport; for some a last breath, for many an ambulance, for everyone else the last time when taking a bus was just that, taking a bus and not a place where you are sub-consciously checking your fellow passengers for danger like a customs official desperate for one last bust.

People are scared, people will be scared for a long time, it's why terrorism is a weapon and not a political movement or an act of change. This was no 9/11, this was no Madrid, this was very different in the levels of casualties and the way it was done. What makes terrorism an effective weapon is that it has an unerring ability to attack the things the victims hold dear and what already worries them. A bomb is not nearly as powerful in inducing fear than the threat of a bomb.

This afternoon is very different. The smoke has gone, people are on the streets, the tourists are buying trinkets, workers buying newspapers and crisp packets still drifting from hand to gutter to street. The city is looking pretty and the sounds of London are back... turned down though, as if some neighbour has complained about the raucous noise and the city is trying to behave.

People are just as they were, as if nothing has changed, but something has changed... subtly. On every street. with every white van, with every black cab comes an empty red bus. A red bus makes everyone think something, just for a micro-second, something new and something that terrorism has successfully seeded in the scared minds of these new-born children; buses aren't safe.

Tomorrow is another day and we should not be afraid of a bus, we should not be afraid of strangers, we should not be afraid of every Muslim and we should not be afraid of carrying on. Being afraid is natural, stopping what you do, what you feel and what you believe in because you're afraid is not and that is the goal that every terrorist craves. Whether it was Hitler, the IRA, Al-Qaeda or whoever, London has had its enemies, but just like ducks...we'll carry on; paddling in calm waters, eating bread and not knowing an answer to a question asked with tape, wires, a detonator and a hatred.

Nothing has changed, after all; I am still an atheist, I am still a capitalist, I am still pro-Palestinian and I still despise violence and blood-shed in the name of a nation and in the name of religion and certainly not in the name of terrorism.

I'm going home. Walking, not because I'm scared... but because I like walking in London and the sun has just come out like a spotlight on an actor just about to deliver his lines.

(Thanks for your concern, but I'm OK!)