On Tuesday, I spent the day at the polls, making sure that the Democrats got out to vote. The lines were long all morning, especially, because we really did have a lot of important issues on the ballot here, not the least of which was an anti-gay marriage amendment. As I watched people file in, I was please with the number of members of the glbt community who came to vote wearing their "Second Class Citizen" buttons. Well, we are officially second-class citizens now because, like most of the nation, our state is full of people who don’t see homosexuals as real people with real lives.
I have spent this week talking with many members of the glbt community and how the passing of the amendment discourages us. I know the glbt support group on campus will be packed this week as a result of the vote. Like any group of people, we get discouraged and disheartened when all of our hard work and efforts at visibility are shown to be in vain. Hope is something that has been hard to come by, of late.
Just after the state legislature voted to allow the issue of same-sex marriage to go to the people, my pastor preached a sermon around the Sermon on the Mount, particularly the Beattitudes. She particularly stressed the line, “Blessed are you when people insult you, persecute you, and falsely say all kinds of evil against you because of me” (Matthew 5:11). In my church, we interpret this phrase much differently than much of the nation. We see it not only as a blessing upon those who are persecuted for their faith but also on those who are persecuted in the name of faith. Those ideas are much different. On the one hand, there are those in Sudan, for example, who are hunted down and killed because of their Christian faith (and Buddhist faith, actually). On the other hand, there are those of us who are persecuted and discriminated against by those who claim to have Christian faith. I believe that both are equally blessed.
But does that really do us any good in the time being?
I have spent much of the last few days trying to grab hold of hope in every place I can find it. I know that our children will look back at this period in history and condemn the actions of the majority, just like we look back now and condemn those who did not allow certain races to eat at the lunch counter and those who fought hard to keep the races from intermarrying.
In one of the my favorite movies, The Shawshank Redemption, the main character writes to Morgan Freeman’s character, “Hope is a good thing, perhaps the best of things,” and I can’t help but agree. What good will it do us to give up the fight now? What good will it do us to mourn our second-class citizen status and then accept it? We must find some shred of hope to hold onto somewhere.
Yesterday, one of my favorite children commented on how sad he was that the amendment passed in the state. He and I have had several conversations about the fact that I am gay and how that affects my life. He commented that maybe he ought to run for office when he's older and change the inequality he sees around him. He is one of the many reasons that I still have hope when I look at the future of this nation.
I spend my days with young people who are, for the most part, just out of high school. These students also give me hope. I am in my fourth year of teaching first-year college students, and they constantly inspire me to look at the world with fresh eyes. They come to class and discuss the bigotry they see around them and how they want to change things. They will change things.
The Apostle Paul, who I’ve never really liked all that much, also speaks volumes on the idea of hope when he says, “[…] we rejoice in our sufferings, because we know that suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope. And hope does not disappoint us” (Romans 5: 3-5). And hope will not disappoint us.
Keep the faith, friends. We will see better days.
