All Souls
Bethlehem
Church

When I was in high school, New York State Senator Thomas K Duane, then a City Councilperson, came to speak to one of our assemblies. I would later wind up working for him but this was the first time I'd encountered him – the first I'd met him. As New York's first openly gay elected official, he spoke about homophobia in schools – teasing, and bullying. Like most of us, I couldn't tell you what was said in 95% of my high school assemblies – but what Duane talked about that day has never left me.

He talked about how students in high school are teased and bullied for all sorts of reasons – because of race, gender, musical ability, lack of athletic ability, being too geeky, for what they believe, or don't believe, for being too anything that doesn't fit in. He made clear that he had no desire to claim some kind of hierarchy; that one form of homophobia was any worse, or any better than racism or sexism or what have you. But he wanted to point out one particular way that homophobia was different, markedly different than many other isms and forms of hate

He asked us to imagine an African American teenager, who encounters racism. He's called the N word, a teacher makes a disparaging remark about his background, fellow students seem uncomfortable in his presence – all, terrible, awful things. But more likely than that, that student knows others, can look around and see others he can go to, talk to, who can say – yea, I've been there. I know what you are going through

Duane pointed out – a gay highschooler, a lesbian, a bisexual or transgender student probably can't do that. Certainly that student probably doesn't have a LGBT (Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender) parent or sibling they can go to, they may well not have other LGBT friends or community they can reach out to. For some youth, Duane said, they may not even know any other LGBT kids, or which teachers are LGBT, and to try and seek help would mean outing themselves to those who don't already know, and might only make things worse. The tormenting and bullying, for that LGBT youth, Duane said – often has to be endured in silence. Alone.

Now, it was almost 20 years ago that I heard Duane give that talk. Much has changed since then – on the surface the situation of an LGBT youth today may not seem quite so dire. Gay-Straight Alliances are found in at least some high schools, gay highschoolers appear on TV shows and movies as fully developed characters, not just punch lines – in some schools, it's no longer so strange to imagine such a youth might find allies, might find people he can turn to.

But only some. And far, far too few

If anyone doubts the cruel power that homophobic taunting and bullying still carries today, doubts how overwhelming that silence, that feeling utterly and totally alone can be– recent events are all you need look at. A few weeks ago, a 15 year old boy named Billy Lucas took his own life, after enduring endless bullying and taunting and harassment, because his fellow students thought he was gay. We don't know even if he was – but his manner of speech and dress, was enough to mark him as someone his fellow classmates could label “gay” and thus make him a target.

His death alone would be tragic enough. But before we could stop the tears from that one tragic loss, there was news of another. And another. And another. Four more teenage suicides, all directly linked to homophobic bullying have come to media attention in just the last few weeks since the death of Billy Lucas. One of them, a student at Rutgers University, jumped off the George Washington Bridge, only a few miles from here. Two of the suicides – were 13 years old.

And these are just the stories that made the news, just in the last few weeks. Study after study has documented that suicide and suicide attempts take place among lesbian, gay bisexual and transgender youth at horrific rates – and our information is far from complete, given again the silence that so often surrounds this issue. For every known situation there may be two or three more, where authorities or parents never realize the role that homophobic bullying played in driving someone to want to end their life. Studies based just on the situations we do know about, on students who can self-identify as LGBT – indicate that LGBT youth are 3 times as likely to attempt suicide as other students.

It would be hard not to think about these tragedies, under any circumstances. But I've been thinking about them in particular this week, as I prepared for this sermon, because later this month, October 11th, is National Coming Out Day. This is a day that calls on people across the country–across the world since similar gatherings happen in many other countries–to challenge that silence, to let people know they are not alone, by coming out of the closet.

The day encourages people to tell their stories, to break the silence and “come out” as much as is safe, or possible. To come out to one or two family or close friends, or to declare it publically, such as by wearing a pink triangle or an“I'm gay and I'm proud” button. But the idea is that for every person who comes out, that silence, that loneliness and isolation that is at the heart of so much of the harm of homophobia is driven back just a little further.

And I couldn't help but think about that, not just in terms of sexuality, but in regard to so many things. Because while Duane was right about the power of silence and isolation, it is certainly not only in regard to LGBT issues that those things are felt. How many of us have something for which we were harassed or teased or bullied, or just have carried pain, in part because we just did not know if anyone else could understand. Maybe when you were young, maybe today, that power of silence and isolation can be so overwhelming.

When I think of who it is might need someone to come out, to tell them they are not alone:

I think of someone living with mental illness – for all our debates of over or under medication, still one of the most stigmatized forms of medical condition in America today

I think of someone who believes what they are not supposed to, or who dares to believe nothing at all. Reports of bullying of atheist youth sometimes rival those of LGBT, particularly in schools where public statements of faith are allowed or encouraged, and thus the atheist youth stands out all the more.

I think of someone who feels that a consensus has formed – at their work, at their school, even at their church – that they don't agree with, and they wonder how they will be heard if they speak out? What will happen if they are that one person who puts up their hand and says,

I think of all the secrets, all the hurt each of us carry in one way or another – isolated because we don't know, who else has gone through this? Who else knows what I'm feeling? Who can I turn to who would understand?

I was thinking about that silence and isolation, about what it means to know someone else has felt what you are going through, when I selected our reading for this week. Many of you have heard me say this before; that one reason I so love the story of Jesus is that it is a story about God – an entity that can seem so distant, so foreign, so far off – taking human form. Living a human life. Experiencing human experiences. Whether you read the Gospel as a true account of historical events or as a myth that offers a truth for what it teaches us, or anywhere in between--- I think there is comfort to be taken in that.

And what is it that Jesus experiences in this story; he's taunted. He's mocked, and he's beaten. People make things up about him, attempting to shame him through gossip and innuendo. And when he most needs his friends to stand up for him, to tell him that he' not alone, what does one of his closest friends, the person he calls his “rock” do–he says “Jesus – nah, I don't know that guy.”

On the one hand, it's hard to hate Peter. Jesus doesn't – Jesus knows full Peter is going to do this and still makes him the rock of the church. And Peter must have been so scared – it's terrifying to see someone you are close with being called out, mocked, attacked, and know if you speak out you might be next.

Yet I can't help but wonder – how many of the kids who are for all intents and purposes, bullied to death, had a Peter. Some friend of theirs who never spoke out when they were teased; who sympathized privately but couldn't quite find it in them to speak out in defense publically.

I'm not demonizing that kid – any more then I think the story demonizes Peter. I think we wish they had acted better, but if we are honest would have to wonder how much differently we'd act ourselves.

But for me, I'm not as interested in how we judge Peter, as I am about what Peter's actions tell us about what Jesus is going through.

Because while I always hesitate to apply terms from our time and place across the miles and years that separate us from the time and place this story was written, on many levels I see this story, and the ones that surround it, as Jesus being bullied.

I confess when I started contemplating this sermon idea, that was my big ah-ha moment. Bullying and taunting have so much power because of secrecy and silence, because we feel alone, and so we should come out about those things, to help break down the silence, to make sure people don't feel alone, and hey, Jesus went through bullying to, so really NO one is alone, so, all the more reason to come out and let people know, right?

That was my big sermon idea. But the more I thought about it the more I realized, it's not quite enough. It's not enough to just tell the LGBT kid, the atheist, the person who carries the secret and gets teased and taunted and thinks it will never end – it's not enough to just tell that person, oh don't worry, I've experienced that too, you're not alone

That helps, coming out helps to be sure, buts not enough.

It's not enough to just tell that person who feels they are living in their own personal hell that you've been there. Someone has to tell that person, “I've been there, I know what you are going through--- and it gets better.”

It gets better. 3 little words – yet with so much power. And words that may sound familiar, if you've been following the stories about those suicides – and the response.

Shortly after the death of Billy Lucas, renowned columnist and openly gay activist, Dan Savage sat down with his partner, Terry, and recorded a short video, entitled simply “It Gets Better.” In explaining the video, Savage talked about how when he heard about Lucas' suicide, he wished he had had just five minutes with him, five minutes to say, look-I know how bad things are, I've been there, but I promise you, it gets better.

Savage couldn't sit down like that with Lucas. But he wanted to record a video, aimed at the next possible Billy Lucas, the next young person for whom bullying and taunting and homophobia had made life seem like an endless hell with no way out. And in the video they recorded he and his partner talk about the bullying they endured, the terrible high school experiences, the rejection from family, all of the hard times; and then they talk about how it got better. How they got out of high school, found their way to a welcoming loving community, found their way to each other. How they adopted a son together, have a wonderful life together; that it got better.

So they posted that video to Youtube and started a channel, a way of storing similar videos all in one place so someone can watch them and find others. And they put out a call to other LGBT folk saying – tell your own It Gets Better story. If you had a chance to talk to one youth, thinking that life would never be anything but taunting and bullying and homophobia, and you had once chance to tell that person about your life, and to tell them it does get better; say it now. Say it on camera, and post it on Youtube.

And people have been doing it. There are hundreds of videos up, maybe by now a thousand or more – and they are being viewed. When last I checked, the channel had received almost a million viewings. It's not an ABC afterschool special, they aren't saying that high school is all bad, but get through it, and everything is magically better. Some of the stories are funny, some are harrowing, some talk about the problems and homophobia and harassment they still face. But they all share the one theme – I remember the horror of high school, of being teased. And no one should have to go through that, but I can promise you from my own experience; it gets better.

It's not just a coming out story – it's a story of hope. Go back to the story of Jesus we talked about for a moment–because it doesn't end by saying, see, God knows what you're feeling, God has been bullied and taunted and assassinated too. We all know the next chapter of that story, the resurrection, the story of one who endures the very worst that we humans can do to each and overcomes it. That the power of love in the end is stronger then the bullying and the taunting, and the hate. It's a story that says, it may be Friday, but Sunday's coming. It gets better.

What if that's how we took the call to Come Out – to not just tell our stories, but to reach out to those who most need to hear it, and tell them, it gets better. And that it goes both ways; especially since while it is of students that I've been mostly talking about, of youth that I think are often most in danger, there are ways that any of us, at any age can feel like we carry something alone, something no one else understands, and what we need is ways to find others who know what we are going through.

Whatever the closest we've been in, whatever the secret we've carried that we know others carry, how can we come out? How can we let others know that they are not alone and that it gets better. How can we find others who can help us know – it gets better.

Yesterday I got to perform one of my happiest duties as a minister, performing a wedding. In this case for two men; two men who are so deeply in love that you can't help but see it when they are together, when they talk about each other. This is the kind of couple that literally glows. And as part of our discussions I told them about the “It Gets Better” project, and suggested they should do a video. Their story is such a powerful one, the joy they share with each other is so strong, so palatable – I just hope someone else, someone who feels lost and despairing might see their video and hear that and know, yes, it gets better.

In a few moments, we'll sing a song that has come to have great meaning for the LGBT community, because it's about this idea that it gets better. That there is a place where the dreams that we dare to dream, really do come true.

What are the dreams you dare to dream, that someone else may well think they dream of alone? What can you come out about, find one small way to break the silence and isolation that makes the bullying and taunting that have claimed so many lives, and hurt so many others, possible?

Who can you reach out to, and tell them, “I know what you're going through, and it gets better.”

Amen