Searching for Reconciliation.

Byline: Jeff Wright The Register-Guard

Fourteen members of Wesley United Methodist Church gather in the church library after Sunday morning worship for 90 minutes of Bible study. Their Scripture readings focus on Leviticus, including the verse that lay teacher Michael Tanner describes as "the most explicit, brutal quote in the Bible on homosexuality."

But Tanner and the others don't interpret the verse as condemning homosexuality in the 21st century. On the contrary, they've come together in hopes of learning how to be true to both their faith and to gays and lesbians in search of Christian acceptance.

Their ultimate goal: to persuade their fellow parishioners to name Wesley a "reconciling congregation" that welcomes and accepts gays and lesbians - in opposition to United Methodist Church law that identifies homosexuality as "incompatible with Christian teaching."

Tanner, a college professor, and the others dutifully review Leviticus 18:22, which describes homosexuality as an abomination. But Tanner then refers the group to another verse in Leviticus that urges believers to embrace strangers as friends - a precursor to the New Testament dictum to "love thy neighbor."

If critics of homosexuality "are going to quote Leviticus, we will, too," Tanner tells the class. "But we're going to quote the Golden Rule."

Wesley, a church of about 250 in north Eugene, is in some ways an unlikely candidate to pursue such a campaign. Mostly middle class, white and older, the congregation reflects its suburban roots, and claims no openly gay members.

But the reality of homosexuality has touched the church in myriad ways, including the resignation nine years ago of a beloved minister who, after leaving, wrote a letter explaining that he was gay.

More recently, a young woman who grew up in the church wrote her own letter to the congregation - explaining that she decided to leave Methodism, but not her call to ministry, after realizing she was gay. She is now a United Church of Christ chaplain in North Carolina.

Brian Nelson-Munson, Wesley's current pastor, says he at once welcomes and dreads the conversation unfolding at his church.

"It's a dynamic issue and we can't hide from it," he says. "But you're asking people coming out of families that didn't talk about sexuality at all to suddenly talk about homosexuality. It's hard.

"We are a divided church," he says, "and until the church discerns what the Holy Spirit is saying much more clearly than it has, we are going to continue to be a divided church."

The efforts under way at Wesley are part of a debate that has wrenched Methodism and other mainline Protestant denominations for more than 30 years. For all the prayer and politicking, few churches have seen fit to formally identify themselves as places where gays and lesbians are welcomed as theological equals.

The list of such churches in Lane County numbers a half-dozen, and includes no Methodist congregation - although the Methodist campus ministry at the University of Oregon designated itself a reconciling community 10 years ago, in the wake of statewide anti-gay rights initiatives.

One of the six local churches, First Congregational in Eugene, is affiliated with the United Church of Christ, which made news earlier this month when it voted at its national conference to offer "equal marriage rights for couples regardless of gender."

Only six of 165 Methodist churches in the state have formally joined the "reconciling" ranks, the nearest being First United Methodist Church in Corvallis. But many others within the denomination's Oregon-Idaho Conference, or jurisdiction, are sympathetic, all the way up to Bishop Robert Hoshibata.

Nationally, the issue is twofold, dealing not only with how Methodists should greet gays and lesbians in the pews but also whether they should allow "self-avowed practicing homosexuals" to be ordained as ministers. A current high-profile case, involving lesbian pastor Beth Stroud of Pennsylvania, goes before the denomination's Judicial Council, or supreme court, in October.

At their general conference last year, Methodists from around the country reiterated that avowed gay ministers should not be ordained, and that no Methodist minister should officiate a gay marriage, nor allow a Methodist church to be used for such ceremonies.

In 1998, meanwhile, Methodists passed a resolution declaring that no individual church is to "identify or label itself as an unofficial body or movement." Congregations have gotten around that dictate by instead forming the Reconciling Ministries Network, which now claims more than 200 churches.

Pastor Nelson-Munson, in his sixth year at Wesley, finds himself in a deja vu moment. He previously served as associate pastor at Morningside United Methodist Church in Salem - at a time when members there were debating whether to become a reconciling congregation.

`We had one group saying, `We're here and we're really hurting,' and another group saying, `We know you're hurting because you're bringing up an issue we're not comfortable talking about,' ' he recalls. The Salem church ultimately affiliated with the reconciling network.

Cautious congregants

In Eugene, the Wesley congregation includes people such as Anita Lewis, who is wary of efforts to revisit the denomination's traditional stance on homosexuality.

"It's coming so fast - they've got their foot in the door and they're not backing off," says Lewis of members advocating reconciliation with gays and lesbians. "There needs to be some give and take."

Lewis, who grew up in the Methodist church in Oklahoma, says she fears that the denomination nationally will eventually split over the issue. Local churches are likely to survive, she says, with some staying traditional and others opening their doors to homosexuals.

She says she doesn't know if sexual orientation is innate or a choice, and thinks there's "a lot of gray" in the Bible about homosexuality. But ultimately she cites the Scripture verse that labels homosexuality an abomination as informing her views, along with the traditional ways in which she was raised.

`Growing up, we never associated with non-Christians - mother wouldn't let us,' she recalls. `If she were alive today, she'd probably say the same thing (about homosexuals).'

If one of her adult married daughters were to announce she was gay, "it would be very hard on me," says Lewis. "When my first daughter got a divorce, that was very hard to accept because I was so brought up against that. But that's what she did and we have to love her and I have accepted it."

Of gays and lesbians, Lewis says, "I can love them in the concept of agape love - God's love - but that doesn't mean I have to associate with them and all that."

Cliff Wallace, another church member, says a vote now on becoming a reconciling congregation would fail dramatically. Advocates for such a move "are going to have to do a lot of groundwork," he says. "They're trying to educate themselves so they can educate the membership. They've got a tough row to hoe because they're trying to change attitudes."

The church members meeting in the library, meanwhile, say that's exactly their intent - to get other congregants at least to rethink their views through a series of newsletter articles, panel discussions, speakers, surveys and the like.

Most of the advocates have friends or loved ones who are gay. Tanner, for example, recently reconnected with his lesbian sister, who lives in Alaska with her partner, after losing contact with her for two decades.

`I always liked my sister, but couldn't reconcile `love the sinner but not the sin.' ' says Tanner. "For 20 years, I just didn't know how to handle her."

Family matters

Also seated around the library table are Gary and Carolyn Pennington, members since 1977. Gary, 57, is a company controller and Carolyn, also 57, is a speech language pathologist. Their four children, all young adults, grew up in the church.

Their third child, Janice, was particularly active in church life - especially after deciding as a teenager that she was called to the ministry. A talented singer, she was a familiar presence in the church's music programs.

The Penningtons acknowledge they didn't give a lot of thought to the church's teachings on homosexuality - until their daughter, just before attending seminary, confided to them that she was a lesbian. Their initial response, they say, wasn't so much dismay at her sexual orientation as what it meant for her lifelong dream to become a Methodist minister.

"We knew she could be ordained in the Methodist church if she lied - and that she loved the Methodist church," says Carolyn Pennington. "But she came to the conclusion that she could not be an effective minister without being honest about who she was."

Janice Pennington wrote a letter to the congregation, explaining why she felt compelled to leave the denomination of her childhood. With her blessing, Pastor Nelson-Munson read it aloud during a worship service, "right there in front of God and everybody," says Gary Pennington.

The public revelation "was very difficult but also very uplifting and freeing," says Carolyn Pennington. "We'd spent three years knowing we had a lesbian daughter going through a lot of turmoil, and we weren't able to tell anyone."

Today, the Penningtons are quietly resolved to persuading their church to take a new look at the issue of homosexuality.

"It's just the right thing to do," says Gary Pennington. "I have yet to find a place in the Bible that says, `Hate your neighbor.' '

Adds Carolyn Pennington: "We have to be able to do a little bit to help, one church at a time - so that the future Janices don't have to go through what our daughter has."

Janice Pennington, now 29 and living with her partner in Asheville, N.C., says she felt literally sick to her stomach when she first realized, in early 2000, that she was a lesbian.

"It was the most overwhelming realization: `Oh my gosh, this is me,' ' she says. "I remember asking God, help me to understand. You've been telling me that I'm called to the ministry, but if I'm gay the church won't let me."

The younger Pennington says she feels at peace in her new denomination, and proud of her parents' actions at Wesley. "They could decide they love me and support me and then just go with the flow," she says. "They've chosen to say it louder."

A minister resigns

Among those who remember watching Janice Pennington grow up at Wesley is Greg Eicher, the church's minister between 1988 and 1996.

During those years, Eicher battled depression and a tendency to bury himself in his work. One Sunday, he preached a sermon on Ballot Measure 9, an anti-gay rights initiative, taking no explicit stand but asking what Jesus might do in the context of embracing outsiders.

Eicher's world turned upside down when a parishioner, in response to the sermon, asked Eicher if he was "coming out" as a gay man. The implications so upset Eicher that he became physically ill, lost 10 pounds and developed an ulcer.

"But my depression lifted," he says. "Within two weeks, I was in counseling."

Eicher, married with two teen children at the time, ultimately resigned, telling people he wanted to pursue a career change in social services. After others in the church indicated they would share his real reasons for leaving if he didn't, Eicher wrote his letter to the congregation.

"I have come to experience in a deep and personal way the words from the Gospel of John - `that we shall know the truth, and the truth shall set us free,' ' Eicher wrote in his letter. "I am a gay man; that is my truth."

Today, Eicher helps with HIV prevention and testing for the Lane County Public Health Department. He also is the organist at Springfield Lutheran Church. He and his gay partner live near Junction City.

Eicher's departure in 1996 prompted some in the church to broach the issue of homosexuality anew. But the efforts never gained traction - to the puzzlement of newer members such as Tanner.

"How could we love this man and then throw him out?" he asks.

Geographic split

Tanner views today's reconciling campaign as a grass-roots inevitability - "a movement where the tail is wagging the dog, and the dog doesn't know it yet."

His assessment may ring true to many Methodists in Oregon and elsewhere in the West - regarded as the denomination's "liberal fringe," says Pastor Nelson-Munson - but less so in the rest of the country.

For example, Methodists who concur with the denomination's official stance on homosexuality have created a coalition of "confessing" congregations as a counter to the "reconciling" movement. More than 1,500 churches have joined the Confessing Movement, but none is based in Oregon, says the movement's executive director, Patricia Miller.

Miller, a state senator in Indiana, says a change in church doctrine is untenable to most Methodists across the country and around the world. "We just don't believe that's faithful."

The debate around homosexuality, she adds, has expended enormous amounts of time and resources "that could go to winning souls for Jesus Christ and for mission work throughout the world."

As with other mainline Protestant denominations, Methodists have seen their numbers decline in recent decades - from 10.7 million in 1970 to 8.1 million in 2003 - and Miller suspects the ongoing debate about homosexuality is a factor.

"You look at the denominations that are growing in this country, they are the ones that have strong doctrinal statements and preach and teach those statements," she says. "Then look at the mainline churches in this country - the debate is very similar and so are the results."

"A long haul"

But Methodist advocates for gays and lesbians say they feel called to keep the conversation going, come what may.

"We do feel we're in the minority, but we also feel we have a prophetic voice and a reason to continue the dialogue," says Hoshibata, the bishop who serves as the highest church leader for the 213 Methodist churches in Oregon and Southern Idaho.

While many see the Bible's injunctions against homosexuality as clear-cut, Hoshibata cites the "quadrilateral" approach espoused by Methodist founder John Wesley, who said Christians must discern God's will by employing the four planks of Scripture, tradition, reason and experience.

Hoshibata says his experiences as a Japanese-American have made him sensitive to the needs of other minority groups. He says it's been difficult "to be marginalized by the denomination, and to see so many of our lay folk and clergy feel defeated."

In the end, "I don't see how the church can continue without being open to all people," he says.

Many observers don't see the issue going away - or getting resolved - anytime soon.

"There is a struggle for the soul of the Protestant church," says Dale Soden, an expert on Pacific Northwest Protestantism and a professor of history at Presbyterian-affiliated Whitworth College in Spokane.

Conservative Protestantism, he says, has reinvented itself by embracing such tenets as the primacy of Scripture, a personal relationship with Jesus, and family and patriotic values. More liberal Protestants, meanwhile, are committed to the issue of gay rights "out of a deep conviction that this is the test of their generation in terms of standing up for the oppressed."

"That's why it's not going to go away easily," says Soden. "This is a big-deal issue."

From her vantage point in North Carolina, Janice Pennington says she's optimistic that her former congregation can come around to a new way of thinking.

"Eugene is a place where people are at least willing to have the conversation," she says. "In a lot of places in the United States, there's not even a conversation."

Nelson-Munson, the pastor at Wesley United Methodist, says he's practicing and preaching patience.

"We're trying to discern God's intent in a society where everyone has already chosen sides," he says. "It's going to be a long haul. I don't see God drawing us together anytime soon."

GAYS WELCOME HERE

Lane County churches that have been formally identified as accepting gays, lesbians

Central Presbyterian Church, Eugene

First Congregational Church, Eugene

First Presbyterian Church, Cottage Grove 

Metropolitan Community Church of the Two Rivers, Eugene

Springfield Church of the Brethren 

Unitarian Universalist Church in Eugene

Wesley Foundation campus ministry, University of Oregon

- www.christianlesbians.com, www.mlp.org

METHODISTS AND HOMOSEXUALITY

A denominational chronology

1968: Evangelical United Brethren and Methodist Church merge to become United Methodist Church

1972: Delegates at national conference declare homosexuals to be "persons of sacred worth" but declare homosexuality "incompatible with Christian teaching"

1974: First Methodist gay advocacy groups emerge

1976: Methodist funds banned from going to gay advocacy groups or to otherwise "promote the acceptance of homosexuality"

1984: "Self-avowed, practicing homosexuals are not to be ordained as ministers"

1988: Denomination mandates official four-year study of homosexuality

1992: Official report says church "has been unable to arrive at a common mind" on homosexuality, needs more prayer and study

1996: Ceremonies that celebrate gay unions are not to be conducted by Methodist ministers or in Methodist churches

1997: Methodist minister suspended for a year for performing gay union ceremony

1999: For first time, Methodist minister stripped of ordination for performing gay union ceremony

2004: In church trial in Bothell, Wash., lesbian Pastor Karen Dammann is found not guilty of practices incompatible with church teaching

October 2005: Judicial Council, the church's supreme court, to hear arguments in case of defrocked lesbian Pastor Beth Stroud

- Oregon-Idaho Reconciling United Methodists

CAPTION(S):

Pastor Brian Nelson-Munson of Wesley United Methodist Church in Eugene says he both welcomes and dreads the effort to become a `reconciling congregation'; that is, one that welcomes homosexuals as equals. "It's a dynamic issue,' he says, `and we can't hide from it." If critics of homosexuality "are going to quote Leviticus, we will, too," says Michael Tanner, with his wife, Deborah, at Wesley United Methodist Church. "But we're going to quote the Golden Rule." Brian Davies / The Register-Guard Brian Davies / The Register-Guard Carolyn Pennington greets fellow worshippers at Wesley United Methodist Church at a recent service. Pennington's daughter Janice had dreamed of becoming an ordained Methodist minister, until she realized she was a lesbian. One of the many posters in support of becoming a reconciling church hangs near Wesley United's sanctuary.