By James D. Davis
Sunday, April 4, 2010
Danny Desilus wanted to talk it out. His cousin was in Haiti -- working in a bank as the earthquake struck on Jan. 12 -- and he hadn't heard from her in nearly a week. Then he saw a news report of her being pulled out of the rubble alive.
After he told his story, he was surprised as the other teens circled around him and prayed.
It was an impulsive moment -- a Holy Spirit moment, some later called it -- for these teens, who had been thrown together six months earlier when St. Joseph Haitian Mission merged with St. Elizabeth of Hungary.
"I felt their support," said Desilus, 14. "I knew that if I needed anything, they'd be there for me. We're one big community."
Easter themes of death and resurrection came to fruition early for the Pompano Beach church. What no one could have predicted was how a disaster in Haiti could stir new spiritual life -- in congregations across South Florida, and among the teens at St. Elizabeth.
When St. Joseph joined St. Elizabeth, the parish jumped from 1,600 families to about 2,400, growing from less than 25 percent Haitian to 35 percent. They were among 13 parishes that absorbed 14 other parishes and ministries in cost-cutting moves by the Archdiocese of Miami last fall. Today, they are celebrating their first Easter as blended parishes.
Making the new members feel welcome was a challenge.
"We wanted to send the message that our parish is your parish," said the Rev. Paul Kane, pastor of St. Elizabeth.
He added two Creole Masses, plus choirs, classes and clubs. Archbishop John Favalora dedicated the chapel to St. Joseph, including a banner of the saint brought from the Haitian mission.
Wendy Bourgault, the church's youth director, learned some Creole phrases like "Ki jan ou rele?" (What's your name?) She stood outside the church doors and invited kids to her youth ministry on Sunday nights.
Kane was touched when St. Joseph's members walked in procession from their old parish to their new home, bringing their tabernacle, which holds the Eucharistic bread. In his welcoming address, Kane found himself choking up.
"They came by the hundreds; they packed the church; they were singing and praising," he recalled. "I was moved by their depth of faith."
Working together
The new relationships bore fruit in January, after the horrendous earthquake in Haiti. For the non-Haitian parishioners, the disaster was more than a story in the news: It struck the families of their friends.
When St. Elizabeth gathered for a memorial Mass, the Haitian members remember it as a "bonding" experience, said Father Fritzner Bellonce, the associate pastor.
"Anglos and Hispanics attended, too, even though it was in Creole," said the Haitian-born Bellonce, who has been at St. Elizabeth since June. "They were all weeping together."
Kane found himself getting tearful as well. "They were singing and praising God, even though they'd suffered so much. I realized their power of faith that overcomes tragedies."
Archbishop Favalora added dollars to faith in March, announcing a $1.3 million program for earthquake relief. Then he added his own Easter note: "Let's make sure Haiti comes back alive and even stronger."
The scene has played out elsewhere in South Florida as well, crossing denominational, racial and cultural lines.
Our Lady of Perpetual Help, a Haitian mission in Delray Beach, has been filling its fifth 40-foot cargo container with beans, rice, pasta, cooking oil, aspirin, bandages, tents, blankets and more. The containers are earmarked for Carrefour and Leogane, two of the areas hit hardest by the earthquake.
The aid comes from more than the 2,000 who attend Perpetual Help and other parishes, said the Rev. Roland Desormeaux.
"Hispanics, Brazilians and others bring things and even help put it in boxes," Desormeaux said. "Church is everything for immigrants."
Youth efforts
At St. Elizabeth, Bourgault got the youth involved with a brainstorm session. Their idea: Use half the donations from the annual Souper Bowl of Caring for Haiti relief, the other half for the parish's benevolent St. Vincent de Paul Society.
Bourgault even used the earthquake as a spiritual lesson, working in Good Friday and Easter themes. One day at St. Elizabeth School, she talked about projects the students could help fund at the Pompano Beach-based Food for the Poor, where she works.
Then she showed pictures of wreckage from the earthquake and made her spiritual point.
"I said the destruction is like Good Friday and Jesus being crucified," she said. "But Jesus showed there is always a way to move the stone from the tomb. That's what these young people were doing with their sacrifice."
"I'd gone to St. Joseph since I was in the womb," said Nextor Chery, 16. "Leaving there, I felt shock and sadness."
Danny Desilus and others at St. Elizabeth knew some of the St. Joseph people, but that didn't help. "It was like having good neighbors, then finding out they're coming to live with you."
Gradually, some like Chery mustered their courage, crossed the floor and talked to those on the other couch. The boys, of course, found they all liked football and basketball.
"It was awkward, but I'm an open-minded person," Chery said. "When we talked, and did some interactive things, we felt more a part of it."
"We had a family, and we just welcomed more people," said Caitlyn Blanshine, 15, who played Mary during the Stations. "Now we have a bigger family."
Madison Schneider said the St. Joseph youth choir taught her and others a more rhythmic, contemporary singing style. "They taught us beats and different ways to use our voices. Now, it's like we came from St. Joseph."
Schneider, 12, also enjoyed the Haitians' liturgical dancers.
She said Father Kane sometimes brings them out toward the end of Mass, and lets everyone dance along, right in the pews.
"I like looking at a friend in the next pew and smiling," she said.
All of which, of course, makes Kane glow with pride.
"Children are not the church of the future -- they're the church in the present."
**
By James D. Davis
Sunday, May 2, 2010
For Abiding Savior Lutheran Church, it was a bureaucratic blip: the lifting of a censure against the congregation. For the national denomination, though, it signaled growing acceptance of gay ministers like Bill Knott.
"I'm delighted, of course," the Fort Lauderdale pastor says. "But it won't change the ministry life of the congregation."
But much has changed in the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, with 4.6 million members nationwide. And other mainstream denominations are watching this version of the conflict between liberals and conservatives.
Last summer, delegates to the denomination's national biennial assembly voted to allow churches to hire noncelibate gay ministers. That enabled Florida's bishop, Edward R. Benoway, to lift the sanction he had imposed in 2002 when Abiding Savior hired Knott as pastor despite denomination rules.
Most congregations are deeply divided over gay-related issues, says Benoway, whose Florida-Bahamas Synod is scheduled to wrap up its three-day annual assembly in Orlando today.
"But most feel we can do what the Lord calls us to do, and not let this issue dominate," adds Benoway, who shepherds about 75,000 people in 204 congregations.
Perhaps. But in the wake of the national vote, about 200 of the 10,000-plus congregations are considering leaving the denomination.
In Boca Raton, Advent Lutheran Church is still analyzing 300 survey responses on whether to stay or leave ELCA. The congregation will likely vote on its future in September, said the Rev. Richard Barbour.
"About 18 longtime members have already left," said Barbour. "Some have said they don't want their offering to go to their synod or the national church. And some have said that in spite of the ELCA's decision, Advent is their home."
The issues echo far beyond Lutheran circles. Because of its moderate image and Midwestern home turf, many see ELCA as a bellwether of American Protestantism.
"It's a mainstream, middle-America denomination, and it has strong ecumenical ties to other denominations," says the Rev. Rebecca Voelkel, faith work director of the National Gay and Lesbian Task Force. "So it's being watched closely by other groups."
Abiding Savior is among more than 6,000 "gay-friendly" religious groups nationwide, including 181 in Florida, according to the gaychurch.org website. Besides Lutheran, they include Methodist, Episcopal, Presbyterian, Congregational, Quaker, even Catholic parishes.
Some obstacles
Pastor Knott's partner of 14 years, Ted Carter, is a part of the life of the 47-member church. Carter holds a monthly contemporary-style service, and coordinates other church functions, like Christmas in July. He even had church members dress as pirates one Sunday.
Although the two say the church has welcomed them with "open arms," they agree there were some obstacles.
"I'm not the normal pastor's wife," Carter says. "Some of the women had to get used to that."
Knott began at Abiding Savior in 2000 as music minister. Ordained in 1979, Knott led a congregation in West Virginia until he came out in 1994. He divorced his wife -- by mutual agreement, he said -- and worked at a management firm in South Florida, before the Fort Lauderdale church hired him.
"It was a natural transition, and it didn't bother us that the man was gay," says Mike Scott, congregational president at Abiding Savior. "We thought he did a good job as an organist, and we figured he'd do well as a pastor.
"It's always been very low-key with him here," Scott says.
Part of it was Knott's approach. "We told them we weren't going to turn this into a gay church, just a church," Knott says. "We always say, 'God made you, and you're welcome.' And we don't add small print that says: 'especially if you're gay.' "
Open debate
Because of the sharp disagreement, the ELCA has moved slowly and cautiously. For one, the national vote last year didn't require all congregations to accept gay leaders. The delegates also resolved to respect one another's consciences. And the votes followed acceptance of a study on sexuality begun by a denominational task force in 2002.
"Some say we over-study, but we want to have a careful conversation," Benoway says. "When a decision is made, we've involved as many people as possible."
Still, it sometimes comes down to force. In February, the synod refused to release St. Peter Lutheran Church in Fort Pierce from the denomination. Benoway said in a statement that St. Peter was too important as an ELCA presence on the Space Coast.
Nor are matters settled among Hispanic Lutherans. Eleven pastors, nine from South Florida, wrote a protest letter after the August vote. And at least one -- Iglesia Luterana San Pedro in Miami -- has already indicated plans to pull out of the denomination.
"How can the ELCA be so arrogant?" says Pastor Eddy Perez of San Pedro. "Throughout history, the church as a whole has understood that homosexual behavior doesn't please God."
Word of God
One of the issues is, well, agreeing on the issue. For conservatives, it's the status of the Bible, which they say flatly forbids homosexual acts. For liberals, it's social justice and human rights.
"Homosexuality is the lightning-rod issue, but the basic issue is the authority of the Word of God," says the Rev. Rebecca Heber, a national steering committee member for Lutheran CORE, who spoke at a Hispanic Lutheran meeting last month in Miami. "Lutherans interpret scripture by scripture, not by the current cultural milieu."
Across the aisle is Ross Murray, interim executive director of Lutherans Concerned/North America, which has lobbied for gay rights since 1974.
"The LGBT [lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender] community has been beaten up by churches for quite a while," Murray says. "Now, a lot of people are deciding if church is a safe place for them to go. ... The national policy changes were good."
Knott and other liberal pastors also note most Christians today don't follow other biblical bans, such as eating shellfish. "Some things were reflections of their time and place, and not God's Word for all time. Yes, homosexuality was a sin in that day and age. But it wasn't the same as a loving, caring relationship."
The dissidents
Where might dissidents go? One place is Lutheran Congregations in Mission for Christ, an association with 400 member churches, including two in South Florida. The nine-year-old group has added more than 174 churches just since the ELCA vote last August, according to chairman Larry Lindstrom.
Another possible landing place: a new Lutheran denomination that conservatives plan to launch in August in Columbus, Ohio. Some observers believe that's when many congregations will make their final decision to stay or leave ELCA.
Some leaders say the divisions over homosexuality will still prove weaker than the ties that bind. Things are comparatively calm among the 15 ELCA churches in Broward, according to the Rev. Keith Spencer, acting dean of the Broward-Bahamas Conference.
"We have folks across the spectrum, but they're willing to tolerate diversity of opinion," says Spencer, pastor of Trinity Lutheran Church in Pembroke Pines. "They focus on what binds them together in mission, rather than what divides them."
For many Lutherans, gospel and ministry do seem more important than gay ordination.
"We want to welcome all people," says Barbour, of Advent church in Boca Raton. "This is an issue over which faithful Christians disagree."