America's Most Hated Family: An American Tragedy

America's Most Hated Family in Crisis, Louis Theroux's follow-up to the 2007 documentary The Most Hated Family in America, is upsetting in a way the first film wasn't.

In this sequel, broadcast by the BBC on April 3, Theroux revisits the Westboro Baptist Church, run by the Phelps clan, the Topeka, Kansas-based fundamentalist cult infamous for its message that "God hates fags," "God hates America" and, dammit, God just hates everyone in the world but them. But this time round, it was a more upsetting experience for me. Back then, they seemed just a bunch of isolated weirdos. In the new film, Theroux probes deeper, especially into the minds of the church's young people, some of whom have since left or been shunned by the church.

One such young person is Libby Phelps, who tearfully describes how a series of events, stemming from the sin of wearing a bikini on a vacation to Puerto Rico, led to the sudden realization that she just "had to get out." I was reminded uncomfortably of my own mom's experience in an abusive fundamentalist church, and my advice to her when the control it had over her began to unravel: Run.

An aspect of the Westboro Baptist Church that came through very strongly in the original documentary was how brilliantly its members managed to hide all signs of inner conflict. Jael Phelps, for example, displayed a remarkably wide and resilient smile in the face of a grilling. In the sequel, we see the veneer begin to crack, however, and never more so than in Theroux's interview with the likeable teenager Grace. She is visibly uncomfortable toeing the Phelps line, and it's clear the rest of the clan know it. Her peers surround her, watching her words like hawks. Eventually some of the other girls let their masks slip as they get emotional talking about their attachment to a group of young (male) students who visited the church from Holland. Jael exerts such control over the situation that Louis turns to her and says:

What are you, like the Gestapo now? ... Your role is [to] interject the doctrinal hard line at key moments, when people are showing vulnerability?

Another tragic moment is when Louis talks to an Asian man, who sits taking notes at the back of the church during a service. The rather effeminate young man hopes to join the church, but isn't yet sure he's ready. He believes he's going to hell, and when asked whether he's obeying God, he answers, "Truthfully, no, because that is something that I have to work on." Matriarch Shirley Phelps-Roper interjects to inform Louis the guy came in "off the streets of San Francisco." It's not difficult to fill in the blanks -- and it's tragic.

Viewers in the UK still have until Sunday April 10 to watch the documentary on BBC iPlayer. The videos are also on YouTube, although they may not remain there for long.

Being Gay in Bible College: Part 1

At Bible College, I went to great lengths to avoid discussions of homosexuality, whether in the classroom or, ahem, out. I had known I was predominantly gay all of my adolescence, though I'd never stepped over the line and become a "practising homosexual." I'd tried to capitalize on the small percentage of me that was sexually and romantically attracted towards women. I worked hard to convince myself there was some important quality to my relatively minor heterosexual attractions that made them stronger than and superior to my homosexuality. In my mind, I was a heterosexual with some homosexual issues.

Ethics was a required course in my first year. The subject of homosexuality had occasionally been discussed in other classes. Even then I would start to sweat and squirm, terrified that my secret would be forced out of me, but the mention was usually brief, and I got through it. An entire three-hour class devoted to the topic would be unbearable, however. The mere announcement in the previous week's lecture immediately set my pulse racing and my mind turning over possible ways I could avoid attending.

I settled on pulling a sickie. I told my roommate I was feeling ill, and I holed up in my room, dreading a knock on the door. I spent three hours in turmoil. I couldn't stay inside forever, so I emerged from hiding later that day. The prospect of questions about my absence had me literally shaking as I prepared to face my friends. They did remark on my absence, but I doubt it truly raised any suspicions. Life in the closet had made me paranoid, constantly afraid that the slightest wrong move would give me away, crippled by the fear that people were analyzing every word and mannerism for evidence of homosexuality. Skipping class that day was an epic emotional event; it was a couple of weeks before I felt the air had cleared.

Another time, a Pentecostal pastor who claimed to be "ex-gay" visited the college to run a weekend men's workshop/renewal event, focused on male sexual issues. The scenario was the same: My anxiety increased as the day approached; I invented an excuse to avoid it; I trembled in the aftermath as I fought off the possibility of exposure. If anything, I suppose it was worse this time. Missing a lecture on homosexuality was mildly suspicious, but surely dodging another gay-related session was proof positive that I was in the closet?

There were times when the struggle became particularly fierce. There were emotional attachments and crushes. One passing infatuation led to such unconstrained lust that I became convinced a night of sickness was God's way of disciplining me. I laid on my bed in an intense, fever-fuelled delirium that actually made me wonder if I were experiencing the kind of delirium that makes people want to die. The following day, I reasoned that God had been punishing me, and I determined to learn my lesson.

I eventually decided I should confide in someone. I had only ever "come out" to three people. One was an anonymous counsellor at a Christian camp. Another was a newly converted Christian friend who had admitted to me quite candidly that he was gay. The third was my own pastor, who told me it was a passing phase and never mentioned it again.

I chose the right person to come out to. He was a tutor with a reputation as somewhat progressive compared to rank-and-file conservative Pentecostals. It took me a few minutes to get the words out, but he was patient. I portrayed my plight as being mostly straight but with some gay issues. We met several times. I'm certain he was wise enough to recognize that I was likely gay and going to remain that way; he expressed no surprise when, several years later, I wrote him to say, "I'm openly gay now, and I'm content." But when I first laid bare my orientation to him, he didn't suggest I get counselling or therapy. He didn't mention the possibility of change. I don't even remember him giving me advice, as such. Instead, he just listened to me each time and then prayed.

I'm not sure any of my tutors would have suggested reparative therapy -- psychiatric or psychological help intended to change sexual orientation -- though some might have referred me to a counsellor or Christian ministry and made a much bigger issue of my confession. Thankfully, I had a shrewd confidant and never found myself pushed into more formal attempts at fixing myself, as many in the ex-gay movement have.

In part two, I'll write about what happened when one of my closest college friends found out his brother -- a husband, father and long-time Pentecostal elder -- was leaving his family and coming out gay.

The deadly truth about Uganda's anti-gay bill

Thousands of miles separate me from Uganda, but little separates me in spirit from the hundreds of thousands of Ugandans who are now in fear of their lives.

For the truth is, if Uganda’s Anti-Homosexuality Bill 2009 were passed in the US or Canada today, I would be awaiting death at this moment. I am what the proposed bill calls a “serial offender.” I would not be the only one. Every practicing homosexual in the nation would face the same fate. Every friend and family member who tried to protect us would risk imprisonment or execution. Anyone defending our right to live could be tried for promoting homosexuality, and could incur the same punishment.

At stake are neither abstract moral principles, nor simply human freedom, but actual human lives. The Anti-Homosexuality Bill 2009 is effectively a mandate for the mass execution of gays and lesbians, and their supporters.

The last few months have seen a widespread apologetic effort to distract from the true implications of the proposed legislation. One common claim is that the death penalty has been dropped from the bill. It is true that Uganda’s Minister of Integrity and Ethics was reported as saying this in December, 2009, but no further evidence has been forthcoming. In January, President Yoweri Museveni denied his government had any responsibility for the contents of the bill. To this day, only one draft remains: the original draft, recommending the death penalty. Nothing has changed.

A second claim is that the laws will exist only to protect the vulnerable – victims of gay rape, for example, especially the “boy child.” This too is alien to the actual content of the bill. While it does address victimization of children, it also makes it clear that serial offenders will be punished with death. Not only do serial offenses include physical acts – including simply “touching” with intent to commit a homosexual act – it also includes those guilty of “related offenses,” such as “promoting” homosexuality, or in the case of someone in authority, failing to report a homosexual within 24 hours.

Everyone of conscience should be open in opposing these brutal laws. Thankfully, the western world has many such people of conscience. They include both the religious and the non-religious, homosexual and heterosexual, conservative and liberal. They recognize this is a basic matter of social justice.

How sad, then –infuriating! – that a writer in the mainstream evangelical publication Christianity Today this month has offered such a lukewarm response to the impending legislation, arguing that “both silence and open condemnation end up violating important missional and human-rights principles.”

What possible human-rights principle is violated by speaking out openly to condemn this brutal assault on human lives? This week, the leader of the worldwide Anglican Church did not hesitate in describing the bill as “repugnant.” In December, evangelical pastor Rick Warren condemned it as “unjust, extreme and unchristian.” Dr Warren Throckmorton, a Christian psychology professor who holds to traditional sexual morality, has spearheaded the movement among Christians to denounce the threat to gays in Uganda.

Frankly, as a gay man, I am scared when I witness the reluctance of some intelligent, civilized, Christian people to speak out against this potential atrocity. Whether they explicitly affirm the proposed Ugandan legislation or simply shut their mouths and let it pass silently, my only thought is: Who will come to my defense when they come for me?

It is not time to waver in speaking out. This is an issue that transcends partisan lines. Regardless of personal politics, religion or sexuality, unequivocal condemnation of Uganda’s ugly, violent and fundamentally inhumane Anti-Homosexuality Bill is the only proper response.

What the Archbishop did - and didn't - say

Ruth Gledhill reports that Rowan Williams, the Archbishop of Canterbury, made a "profound apology" to gays and lesbians in his presidential address to the Anglican Church Synod today.

Here is the relevant part of ++Rowan's speech:

The debate over the status and vocational possibilities of LGBT people in the Church is not helped by ignoring the existing facts, which include many regular worshippers of gay or lesbian orientation and many sacrificial and exemplary priests who share this orientation. There are ways of speaking about the question that seem to ignore these human realities or to undervalue them; I have been criticised for doing just this, and I am profoundly sorry for the carelessness that could give such an impression.

I am not sure the apology, or the apparent acknowledgment of gay priests and parishioners, extended to all gays and lesbians. For ++Rowan glides over the fact that the "many sacrificial and exemplary priests who share this orientation" also share their lives - and their beds - with same-sex partners.

Did he not include them in his apology? Or did he hope that by not mentioning them, he could escape the fact that this debate is not primarily about "sexual orientation," but about the actual day-to-day lives of gay Christians and priests and the partners they love?

It is a telling omission. I suspect the man in the middle has once again tried to please both sides, expecting the conservatives to say, "He's quite right, as he was only talking about non-practicing (ie celibate) homosexuals," and the LGBTs and liberals to say, "Look, he's said we're okay and he's on our side."

Unfortunately, by dodging the real issue, ++Rowan has only succeeded in insulting those on both sides of the debate.

I opened the closet door, I found grace in the room

Last week, I wrote about "coming out" - coming out gay, coming out liberal among Christian friends, coming out as "David L Rattigan," my writing alter-ego.

It provoked a mixed response among friends, but there was one particularly gracious response that stood out. It was from a Pentecostal pastor, a fellow Bible College student and the wife of my former Principal, no less. If anyone were to take offense at my often-harsh assessment of my days as an evangelical Pentecostal, it would be someone closest to the situations I wrote about. So it was a welcome surprise that Alison recognized my integrity and greeted my story with openness and understanding.

She has given me permission to post from an exchange we shared on Facebook. In it, we discuss my Pentecostal days and my sexuality, and I think the discussion exemplifies a "generous space" (an expression I owe to my friend Wendy Gritter) we all need to find ourselves in if we're to live together.

Alison began:

I've just spent some time reading your open letter and a couple of the links to your writing which is, of course, challenging to those of us who haven't shared your journey. I thank you for your intellectual honesty and ability to analyse. Also for not misrepresenting the Christianity of your past and my present and not, therefore, having rejected it out of hand. There's a lot of ongoing discussion which could be had - my own thinking re sexuality attempts to be faithful to biblical revelation which I still believe to be God's word (with all that implies); my hermeneutics are very influenced by a feminism which makes me, I think, more liberal than many of my fellow Pentecostals, but wouldn't take me nearly far enough in your estimation, I have no doubt.

I am uncomfortable with the anti-homosexual rhetoric of much of my community but retain a belief that God's intention for sexuality includes the element that both genders should be involved. That men and women together make up the image of God seems to me to be important: faithfulness; vulnerability; give and take; complete openness to the other are all expressed in sexual intimacy with one person for life - sex is to that deepest of human relationships what worship is for the human and God. But I also have to acknowledge that all those things are possible in a gay relationship and that heterosexuality is no guarantee of healthy sexuality.

I am therefore much less sympathetic to heterosexual promiscuity and abuse than to homosexual monogamy or monoandry (is that a word? - it should be). And probably feel that the current controversy re sexuality is analogous to the NT example of meat offered to idols, to which Paul's response in Rom14 is not to attempt to convince those on the other side of the fence (though you know which side he is on and that he is firmly convinced he is right!) but to accept that we all must stand before God and follow our own conscience with regard to how we act. Notwithstanding Rom 1, maybe a 21st century Paul would include sexual orientation issues as a 'disputable matter' (14:1). Thanks also for the Tillich quotation re grace; an unexpectedly lucid Tillich-ism (sorry, I always struggled to read him and usually fell asleep - liked this bit though!)

Let mercy triumph over judgement.

I responded:

Hi, Alison. I sensed from our conversations that you were definitely one to "live and let live," and that you were the sort of person who would be open to other people's stories - but still I am surprised you are so liberal compared to your Pentecostal peers.

I am so warmed to hear that you don't feel misrepresented as a Christian by the things I've written. I look back with a genuine affection - if ambivalence at times - on my days as a Pentecostal, and even though I have some harsh criticisms for evangelical Christianity, I strive to be evenhanded. It means all the more to me that you sense no malice in my writings, since if anyone is going to interpret me as unfair or spiteful, it would be someone so close to the situations I wrote about - an Elim pastor, a Regents member of staff or the wife of the RTC Principal!

Re: homosexuality, I agree that even from a perspective that treats the Bible as the authoritative Word of God, there is room to ask how someone like Paul would answer *today's* questions, and whether he might answer them quite differently from the questions of *his* day.

I can see a real honesty in the way you approach the sexuality question. One thing that led me initially to question the traditional teaching on sexuality was that so many Christians seemed to rely on slandering and misrepresenting homosexuals. It occurred to me that if homosexuality was wrong, surely the case could be argued without recourse to all kinds of myths, slurs and pseudo-science. (I'm talking about the old standards here: gays are a risk to children, being gay is just about sex, there's no love in gay relationships, all gays are promiscuous, being gay is a mental illness, the "lifestyle" is dangerous and ends in early death.)

You seem unprepared glibly to repeat the same deceptions and half-truths, and that's wonderful. When you show a grace like that, I can live with you being on "the other side of the fence," just as you've shown you can live with me as I am.

PS The Tillich quote comes from a sermon found in The Shaking of the Foundations. I've never persevered with Tillich's heavier academic writings, but I've really enjoyed his sermons. That particular one is called You Are Accepted. You can read it online here.

Facebook comments became too restrictive by this stage (the above exchanges had to be posted in tiny parts), so Alison wrote a full-length 'Letter to David' in reply:

David, thank you for the warmth I perceive coming from you. I was bold enough to write that i didn't think you had rejected our brand of Christianity out of hand, so I am cheered by your reference to genuine affection and I can affirm that I did not read malice in your writing, though there was, of course, lots of criticism.

There is plenty that is cringeworthy in Pentecostalism certainly; I can't defend excesses though I sympathise with people who are genuinely trying to hear from God and often make mistakes. Actually I don't have to sympathise with those people: I am one! Ah well. I happen to highly value the American prophetess about whom you have written and don't consider her to be extreme. I don't remember the particular prophecy about banks etc. so can't comment on that. As far as her workshop session goes, I was part of that and know that from her angle it was an introduction to teaching people to listen for God's voice. To give Christians the confidence that they are able to hear from God more than they think is, in my pastoral experience, an important thing. We do have the mind of Christ and most sincere Christians who wonder if they have anything to say which might be used by God to speak to others need to be given the confidence to speak out. Then there is the process of weighing and discernment which is where the Christian community and sensible leadership comes in.

What is indefensible is the sort of rhetoric which you mention which 'demonises' gay people. But (oops maybe I am approaching a defence? call it an attempt at explanation?) most evangelicals don't know any gay people personally (that's to say they don't knowingly know any ...) and when one's information comes from media which, referring to any kind of sex, is more concerned with titillation than information, they are afraid, uncomfortable and suspicious. Also there is the concern that society is concerned with equality to the detriment of Christian sensibilities and we are presented as less tolerant than we really are.

Still, I am happy to affirm that gay and straight (don't like that term) people probably: think about sex as much (or as little) as each other would rather not be defined by their sexuality - it is part of a person not the whole are capable of long term commitment and loving relationships often sin sexually.

I'm not sure of the value of vicarious repentance, but as part of a Christian community whose members have often made hurtful comments to you and others, I'm sorry.

BUT ....

I value relationships where I can genuinely disagree with someone without personal abuse intruding and I sense I have one here. I agree with you that if I think homosexuality is wrong then I should be able to justify that position "without recourse to all kinds of myths, slurs and pseudo-science." So here's the beginning of such an attempt.

For me the first two chapters of Genesis are foundational to a meaning of sex. Male and female are made in the image of God and as such express that image most fully when they get their relations right. I argue against many men (including church fathers) that women do not possess God's image in a secondary sense, but just as much as men; against some radical feminists I would insist that women need men too! Gen2 describes the creation of one being which is then divided into two. "For this reason" men and women have sexual relations, thus restoring the original (one flesh) complete image of God. The one-flesh relationship must therefore include the two. Not only that, it is a productive relationship: the two become one who then bear offspring.

So our sexual ethics must reflect our view of God. Promiscuity and prostitution are wrong because we must not create a one flesh relationship casually (1Cor6). Sex outside marriage is wrong because it should entail complete giving of oneself to the other for life, as God has given himself to us and we to him. That's the ideal: God knows that we are also sinners and Jesus said it was because of hardness of heart that Moses allowed divorce. It is no accident that there is so much sexual sin in the world as it is the one area which directly attacks the image of God in humans and when we get it right it is so good.

The danger of what I just wrote is that people will think I mean that single people or infertile people as well as homosexuals are somehow less than God's perfect image. That would be a gross misinterpretation. Man and woman as one flesh says something about God. But every individual also bears God's image and is precious.

There it is - a very imperfect offering which I hope does not wind you up too much!

I must thank you for recognising grace in my previous comments and hope there is just as much in the above. At root, though I'm clever enough to have been an academic, I am really a pastor who finds that my ethics have to work in practice. You said you thought I am the sort of person who would be open to other people's stories; thanks again. I believe it is a pastor's lot to listen more than she speaks, support and value. Please take these two long responses to your original letter not fundamentally as an attempt to (re)convert you to a particular point of view, but as the sort of serious response you deserve. To do less would have been to value you less.

Anyway will shut up now. I hope this has not been too polemic.

Grace to you,

Alison x

True to her signature, I found grace in Alison's words. I responded thus:

I'm really glad we're having this conversation. You have a lot of grace, and as someone whose experience of evangelical Christians has all too often been graceless, I cherish that openness.

Thanks for your exposition of Scripture, which I didn't find too polemical! For you the Bible is primarily the (infallible?) Word of God; for me it's primarily the word of humans. So biblical arguments may inspire me or lead me to reflection, but they'll never be authoritative in the same way as they are for you. The biblical idea of the image of God in humans strikes me as a beautiful way to view ourselves and our relationships, but I'd want to extend the metaphor to other kinds of human relationships. Since Eve was formed from Adam's side, perhaps Genesis contains the suggestion of androgyny in Adam. From that, can we ask whether two males joined together might adequately reflect the image of God? This is just a thought.

Onto the American prophetess. Following the lead of social scientists, I don't dismiss religious experiences such as prophecy out-of-hand as simple fakery. I think some of those experiences could be valuable. I regard them as "altered states," temporary "alternate realities," or "heightened states of awareness," but also I believe they originate in the human psyche, not the supernatural. My major problem with these experiences in Pentecostal circles is not the experiences themselves, per se, but how they are interpreted for and by the community. I think I would be more comfortable with Pentecostal prophetic experiences if they were framed as indirect impressions of where God might be leading, viewed more tentatively as subjective experiences and open to critical exploration, rather than being considered the "voice of God," or direct "messages," or "words" from God.

I know there are pastors and teachers who try to various extents to emphasize the provisional nature of prophecy, but in my experience the effect is often nullified by the language of "words," "messages" and "voices."

Alison couldn't see my point about androgyny in Genesis, so I elaborated:

I think the androgyny point actually originated in rabbinical interpretation, but I could be wrong.

What I mean is that Adam had in him both male and female. I guess you could interpret that as either very anti-feminist (man is complete without woman) or radically pro-feminist (Adam was *neither* male nor female, so gender distinctions postdate creation).

The exchange continued somewhat, but it widened to include other commenters' points, so I shall leave it there.

Since I've outed myself as Rattigan to friends who only know me by my "real" name, perhaps I should step a bit further out of my closet for readers who know me only as Rattigan. I won't reveal my name (though it probably wouldn't take a great deal of detective work to find out), but I will share a bit more about my background, to put the above discussion in context.

I spent 1993 to 2001 in the Elim Pentecostal Church, which I think I'm right in saying is the second largest Pentecostal denomination in the UK (it is to Assemblies of God what Foursquare is to Assemblies in Canada and the US). I earned my theology degree through Regents Theological College, the organization's official Bible college. Despite being a conservative denomination, the college gave me a fairly thorough theological education, which introduced me to the full array of biblical criticism and alternative, non-conservative Christian and non-Christian ideas. (Not that everyone approved. I remember my decidedly anti-intellectual pastor warning me in advance of the heretical ideas that were "floating around" at Regents. Many pastors, and even some students, scoffed at the college's increasingly academic emphasis.)

I think the broad scope of my education this was partly the result of my choice of classes - I opted for the more academic modules, such as New Testament Interpretation, Philosophy of Religion and Contemporary Theology. Had I chosen just the more pragmatic subjects, such as Evangelism and Missions, it would have been quite easy to coast through college without ever encountering non-evangelical approaches.

Ironically, then-Principal William Atkinson's NT Interpretation classes were ultimately the most formative in my later liberal approach to the Bible. I think this is a credit to his ability to teach without simply imposing his own biases on students. I recall raising laughter by hugging William enthusiastically as I stepped up to the platform at graduation - but it was an embrace of genuine affection, which remains today.

Against this background, it's been a risk to share my changed perspective, my writings and my journey with friends, acquaintances and colleagues from those days. But I opened the door and I found grace.

Hate crimes: treading the thin line

There's a narrow line between prosecuting for inciting violence and prosecuting for speech, thought and so-called "hate."

I am torn on the issue of "hate crimes." Like Ed West of The Telegraph, I shudder at the idea of prosecuting someone merely for saying something homophobic. I believe in free speech. Causing offence, in and of itself, should never be a crime. Yet I cannot bring myself to dismiss hate crimes legislation wholesale, as Ed appears to, for it seems to me they identify an important element of a crime that warrants a different or more severe treatment.

The element is intimidation, threat or violence directed towards an entire community or group of people. A common argument against hate crimes is that a murder is no worse or different simply because the victim was gay or black, say. It devalues a life, say critics, to punish a racially motivated murder more severely than any other murder. Is one person's life more valuable than another's?

This might be a valid criticism if it understood the reasoning behind hate crimes legislation, but I think it misses the point. A hate crime is not punished more severely because one life is more valuable than another, but because it has - and was intended to have - more victims. If a murder can be shown not only as an attack on the immediate victim, but as an assault on an entire community, intending to cause wider fear and intimidation, then why should it not be punished more severely? If you kill two people, you get a harsher sentence than if you killed just one. If you steal $1 million, you get a harsher sentence than if you stole just a dollar. If a crime has multiple victims, the punishment is more severe.

This, to me, is the basic principle behind the concept of hate crimes.

But it doesn't end there. I'm undecided whether hate crimes legislation is the way to deal with this difference. First of all, "hate" is a regrettable misnomer. All sorts of murders are motivated by hate, regardless of the victim's ethnicity or social group. Hate - which implies thoughts and emotions - never can be a punishable crime in and of itself.

Second, does the presence of a racial motive (for example) necessarily suggest intent to target a community, rather than an individual? Does it automatically result in the victimization of a whole group of people?

The law must be realistic. If a crime has multiple victims, the criminal should be treated accordingly. Just as we cannot let the fear of racism and discrimination stifle debate on immigration and multiculturalism, so we can't let fear of political correctness, or of a future police state prosecuting for thought crimes shut down debate on racism, homophobia and hate crime.