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There are a lot of reasons to celebrate the step that the Boy Scouts of America took this week.  Ending the ban on gay scouts is a significant change, and an acknowledgement of just how far our country has come in the past few decades.  It is not, however, enough.  As long as the Boy Scouts continue to discriminate on the basis of sexual orientation and religion, I cannot support them.

It pains me to say this.  I have seen how much good the Scouts can do in a boy’s life, watched the Scouts help boys grow into thoughtful, sensitive leaders with an ethic of volunteerism and a love of the outdoors.  I honor these young men for all they have achieved, and will give them all the recognition they are due.  At their best, the Boy Scouts are an organization few others can match.

But discrimination is wrong.  The Boy Scouts now accept gay boys only to tell them implicitly that they are second class – good enough to be grudgingly accepted by the troop, perhaps, but never good enough to be Scout leaders or staff.  These boys may be included, but as long as the Scouts promote this kind of bias, they will never be welcome.

I would love to see the day when the Scouts end all discrimination on the basis of sexual orientation, and will honor the move when it (inevitably) happens – but I will still not be able to support the Boy Scouts of America.  How could I, knowing that as a Humanist Unitarian Universalist, I would not be welcome?

With all the attention the Scouts’ policy toward gays has received, few news outlets have focused much on the Scouts’ ban against atheists.  Simply put, if you do not believe in God, you cannot be a Boy Scout.  You cannot work for the Boy Scouts.  You are unwelcome.

I find this unconscionable.  That an organization which purports to represent American values blatantly discriminates on the basis of religious belief violates the most fundamental principles of this country.  It is an insult to our forebears, and a terrible lesson to teach boys and young men.

Theologically, the ban on atheists makes no sense at all, because once you’ve said you believe in God, you haven’t said very much.  My own theology is non-theistic, but it would be easy enough to give what I do believe the name “God.”  I know many people who do; it just isn’t the language I typically choose.

It saddens me that the policy against atheists stands, and also that it has received so little attention.  Does the public really believe that atheist scouts and leaders present some sort of threat?  Do the Scouts?

I suspect the answer is more simple – most people simply do not know about the ban on atheists, and the freedom not to believe in God, while sacrosanct in our Constitution, is seldom lifted and honored.

One day I hope to support the Boy Scouts; I admire what they do.  One day I hope they will find the integrity to let go of policies that belittle boys and men for who they are and what they believe.  When that day comes, I will be the first to applaud.

On Monday I posted an open letter to Michelle Shocked in the wake of controversy about remarks she made at a San Francisco concert.  That letter has been viewed about 1300 times so far, easily a record for this blog.  On Wednesday evening Michelle Shocked released a statement denying any intention to spout homophobia, saying that her remarks were misunderstood, that she was describing the opinions of other people, and that her statement about tweeting “Michelle Shocked hates…” was a prediction of how she would be misinterpreted.  She says that she supports the LGBT community and marriage equality.  Included in her statement:

“I am damn sorry. If I could repeat the evening, I would make a clearer distinction between a set of beliefs I abhor, and my human sympathy for the folks who hold them. I say this not because I want to look better. I have no wish to hide my faults, and  – clearly – I couldn’t if I tried.”

I am glad to take her word for what she meant to say.

The same evening, audio from the concert has been released.  (The relevant part begins at 4:40.)  To be honest, it’s really hard to say what she was trying to get at.  Members of the audience seem confused as well.  In my letter I tried to be very careful to speak from a place of concern, rather than judgment.  Hearing the audio, I remain concerned.

Here is the full text of her statement.

And here is my original post of the open letter responding to the initial news reports on Sunday, with the update added at the top.

Today is the tenth anniversary of the beginning of the Iraq War. The first moments of that war were heavily televised, though we saw very little that our government didn’t wish us to see.  Cameras placed on the bottoms of planes gave us the illusion that bombs could be “smart,” hit only their targets and would never hurt the general population – with whom, we were told, we had no quarrel.  Even those of us who protested the war thought it would be over quickly – though many raised concerns over its longer term impacts.  The nightly television coverage seemed to confirm these predictions, as we dropped bomb after bomb after bomb on Baghdad.  Hearing the blasé attitudes of television reporters chatting cheerfully over footage of death raining on human beings sickened me, and I wrote this poem, which now I give to you:

Windows onto the destruction
propped open in the living room;
Almost game-like in precision;
horrific in carnage.
Only 56 killed, we hear through narrow cracks.
It is a half truth.
When we turn to the window,
pry open the jammed frame,
the smell sickens.
It isn’t the 56 young Americans,
not mostly.
It is the stench of a hundred,
a thousand
two thousand
men
children
women,
fighters or lovers,
death knows no distinctions of
innocence or guilt.
The 20 megatons that would
pulverize a palace
destroy a slum.
“Regrettable.”
The lives of our soldiers
more precious than their children,
our integrity dies in the furnace.

They told us we lost our innocence
the day two towers fell.
It was a lie.
We found our innocence
the day we died.
We lost our innocence
the day
we killed.

- Dan Schatz
March 2003

Update – 11:46pm, March 20:

This evening Michelle Shocked released a statement denying any intention to spout homophobia, saying that her remarks were misunderstood, that she was describing the opinions of other people, and that her statement about tweeting “Michelle Shocked hates…” was a prediction of how she would be misinterpreted.  She says that she supports the LGBT community and marriage equality.  Included in her statement: 

“I am damn sorry. If I could repeat the evening, I would make a clearer distinction between a set of beliefs I abhor, and my human sympathy for the folks who hold them. I say this not because I want to look better. I have no wish to hide my faults, and  – clearly – I couldn’t if I tried.”

I am glad to take her word for what she meant to say.

The same evening, audio from the concert has been released.  (The relevant part begins at 4:40.)  To be honest, it’s really hard to say what she was trying to get at.  Members of the audience seem confused as well.  In my letter I tried to be very careful to speak from a place of concern, rather than judgment.  Hearing the audio, I remain concerned.

Here is the full text of her statement.

And here is my original post of the open letter responding to the initial news reports on Sunday:

Dear Michelle,

We haven’t met.  Or rather, we have, twenty years ago, but it was rather fleetingly backstage at the Philadelphia Folk Festival and you wouldn’t remember.  That was the year that you sang “Kumbaya” and reminded the audience that “Kumbaya my Lord” meant “Come by Here, my Lord.”  You were right, by the way – that song was always meant to be an invocation to the Divine.  I interpret that word differently than you do, but you were definitely right about the origin of the song.  Maybe I’ll write about that some other time.

You’ve made some news recently, and for no good reason.  Your comments at a recent concert that you fear the world would be destroyed if gays were allowed to marry, and that your fans could all go tweet “Michelle Shocked says God hates f–s”) – well, they lived up to your chosen name.  It’s not even so much the views you decided to express, as the venue, and the manner of your doing it that has left so many of us outraged, speechless, and also worried for you.

I mean it.  Because a rant like that, in the place you chose, speaks of profound spiritual pain.  It is one thing to believe that homosexuality is wrong; many do.  I disagree, but it remains a widely held belief, especially among adherents to more conservative religious movements.  These are your views, and you have every right to express them.  But to phrase them as hate speech – and it was you who brought up the word “hate” – at a concert in San Francisco, of all places, speaks of deep inner turmoil.

Your words are not those of a woman comfortable in her own skin.  They do not speak of the strength of your faith, or of your idealism, or of your values.  They seem spoken more to reassure yourself and the world that you are not, in fact, the bisexual woman you once believed yourself to be, or the lesbian so many of your fans believe you to be.  They seem an attempt to claim an identity and hold on to it, when so much both within and around you threatens to pull it apart.

I don’t know if this is really what is going on.  Maybe you just don’t like people making assumptions about you as a person or an artist.  I get that – I’m a Unitarian Universalist minister as well as a folk musician, and I’m always afraid that people will stay away from my concerts because they think I’m going to preach at them (more than folksingers usually do) or that I won’t be able to get away with singing one of the saltier old ballads, because some folks can’t separate the music from the musician.  I’d like to just be me, and sing the music I love.

You’ve got it far worse; I understand this.  And you don’t want anybody else – not a record company, not a manager, not your fans – to tell you who to be.  And maybe you’ve got some things you believe in that you want to say.  That’s fine.  But before you say them, please let me suggest that you spend some time in prayer.

Yes, I said prayer.  One of the most powerful teachings of your church is that ordinary human beings can commune with the divine – and you need that.  You need to step away from the whirlwind of public and private identities, of fear and anger and self-doubt.  You need to let go of all of that for a while.  If you’re going to speak the truth of your soul, you need to be grounded.  So pray, and read the Bible that you place your faith in.  You won’t find hatred there, but you will find a Jesus who spent a great deal of time with people who were and are considered “sinners,” and who nevertheless respected them as human beings and as his friends.  Pray – not for absolute answers, but to still yourself and open yourself to the God of your belief.

You hurt a great many people with your comments, not least yourself.  But maybe this experience can move you forward.  Maybe it will help you find the right people to talk to about your spiritual crises.  Maybe it will help you ask for help in your emotional life.   You said yourself that “truth is leading to painful confrontation.”  Maybe the truth is your own spiritual crisis, and the confrontation is with yourself.

I don’t know, but I do know this much.  The only way to respond to hatred is with love and compassion.  And Michelle, though I don’t know you, and I detest everything you said at that concert – you have my love and compassion.  I offer you that much.

After all, isn’t that what Jesus would have done?

Love,
Dan

PS:  I still love Short Sharp Shocked, and always will, no matter what you say about anybody.  That album is brilliant from beginning to end.  Would that any of us could reach such heights of artistic genius.

Note:  Please remember the guidelines for comments in this blog.  As my friend at Sermons in Stones puts it, “Disagreement is welcome; disagreeableness is not.”  Comments that are not civil, or that express hatred for any person or group of people – including religious groups as well as the LGBT community – will be blocked.

I Still Have a Dream

Each year on Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Kr. Day, we hear part of a great speech – perhaps one of the greatest speeches ever given – “I Have  Dream.”  Sometimes I get frustrated that Dr. King’s legacy gets reduced to one speech (and only the last few minutes of that one), when his work was much more far reaching and complex, and when so much of the work he gave his life to remains unfinished.  Those issues aside, it is a remarkable speech, made all the more so by the fact that it very nearly never got made.

To begin with, the Great March on Washington of 1963 almost didn’t happen.  Nobody had ever tried a demonstration on anything close to that scale, and most people thought it couldn’t be done.  The only way the march could work is if all six leading civil rights groups joined together, and they agreed on very little.  Several leaders viewed the march’s organizer, Bayard Rustin, with deep suspicion, because he had been a conscientious objector, a socialist, and was known to be gay.  Dr. Martin Luther King and others insisted that only Bayard Rustin could do this job, so it was agreed that while Rustin would do all the work, others would take on the official titles of leadership.  Leaders of the younger, more activist Student Nonviolent Coordinating Committee worried that the March would be no more than a way of blowing off steam for the African American community, unless it involved some kind of civil disobedience.  The NAACP insisted they would not participate if any civil disobedience were involved.  The groups argued with one another about the texts and the tone of the speeches and several threatened to pull support.  While President Kennedy publicly praised the March and its goals, privately he worried that so many African Americans coming to Washington to protest would lead to rioting, and he asked the leaders to cancel the event.  When they refused, Washington DC declared a “state of emergency,” closing all of the liquor stores, mobilizing every police officer on the force, and deputizing thousands more, in preparation for the descent of one hundred thousand African American protestors on the city.

More than double that number gathered at the foot of the Washington Monument the morning of August 28, while Dr. King, Whitney Young and other leaders met with members of Congress.  At 11:30, somebody in the crowd started singing a freedom song.  Soon others joined in and all of a sudden the people were moving, out onto Constitution and Independence Avenues, walking hand in hand toward the Lincoln Memorial.  Bayard Rustin, looking down from the steps of the Capitol, shouted, “My God, they’re going!  We’re supposed to be leading them!”  So it was that Martin Luther King, Jr., John Lewis, A. Phillip Randolph and all the rest of them ran after the people, eventually stepping into the middle of the march and stopping it so that reporters could take the iconic pictures.

The afternoon was a long series of carefully negotiated speeches.  Mahalia Jackson, the great gospel musician, sang “I’ve Been Buked and I’ve Been Scorned.”  And then Dr. King stood up to speak.  He must have been exhausted, but he read well from his carefully prepared text.  When he reached the end, he paused, and Mahalia Jackson, remembering the words she had heard Dr. King speak at so many churches and rallies across the south, shouted from her seat, “Tell ‘em about the dream, Martin!”

Dr. King looked up from his text, written as it was in the context of all the contentiousness that had gone into this march, and he looked out at the people, so eager for freedom they had not waited for his leadership to move, and he said, “Even though we face the difficulties of today and tomorrow, I still have a dream.”

The video below includes the entire speech.  It’s worth hearing.

Haiti Cherie

Three years ago a powerful earthquake in Haiti devastated an already suffering nation.  The world sent aid, but not nearly enough, and Haiti has largely receded from the consciousness of the world.

Shortly after the earthquake, I helped to plan and lead an interfaith service at the BuxMont Unitarian Universalist Fellowship, in Warrington, Pennsylvania, where I serve as minister.  Hindus, Christians, Jews, Unitarian Universalists and others gathered, raised awareness, prayed together, and most importantly raised funds to help Doctors Without Borders in their Haitian relief work.

We also sang together.  Haiti Cherie is one Haiti’s best known and best loved songs, and tells a different side of the story from the one we usually hear – this is not the Haiti of grinding poverty, oppression and violence, but of beauty, courage and community.  This is the Haiti of an African people who overthrew their European slaveholders a full sixty years before the American Civil War.  This is the Haiti of joyfulness and music.

It’s an easy trap to fall into – we imagine that the lives of people living in a place like Haiti are entirely defined by suffering – and somehow that lessens the impact of the current calamity.  But real people’s lives are seldom like that, and it’s important to remember that we, who would give our help, do so because we are privileged and we are able, but not because we are better or because our lives and nations are somehow set above others.  The Haitian people recognizes the ills their country has faced, and the far worse problems brought by the earthquake, but they are also proud of their country, and with good reason.  We would do well to learn from them.

I learned Haiti Cherie for the service, doing the best I could with the Creole, using an English translation from a  recording by Harry Belafonte, and adding a fourth verse (“you are never lost to sorrow”) written in the wake of the earthquake’s destruction.  When we came back to the first verse, I lined it out for the people gathered, and four congregations sang it well and loudly.

This recording was done rather hastily that week – I had a bit of a cold, so I won’t pretend it’s the best recording I ever made, but it may be one of the most heartfelt.  The link should take you to the song.  Enjoy it, and if you can spare a little, donate again to earthquake relief.

Dan Schatz sings Haiti Cherie

(NOTE:  Pleased ignore any video ads below – they have nothing to do with the post or this blog.  The link above will take you to the song.)

_____________________________________________________________

 

(annoying ad below)

Reblogged from The Song and the Sigh:

Today is the second anniversary of the mass shooting in Tucson, Arizona, in which six people lost their lives and Congresswoman Gabrielle Giffords was shot in the head.  In the intervening years we have seen similar shootings at an Oakland, California college, a Sikh temple in Wisconsin, a movie theater in Aurora, Colorado, and, most horrifically, a Newtown, Connecticut elementary school. 

Read more… 353 more words

Yesterday I shared a blog post about the anniversary of the shooting in Tucson. It was pointed out to me later that I had made a rather embarrassing typo in the title ("Tucson" in in Arizona; "Tuscon" is Italian), so I've reposted with a new permalink. The issue remains a serious one, with over 2,000 American children EVERY year murdered by gun violence. And Tom Paxton's song, linked to in the post, is powerful and deeply moving.
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