Speaking to the Fears of Same-Sex Love and Recent Suicides: A Prayerful Response

The past month's headlines reporting the suicides of young people - who have chosen to end their lives because they are perceived as gay - has caused the deepest sorrow in my heart. I have been praying about how to respond.

My prayer is informed by my own life experience. My best friend committed suicide six weeks before we graduated from high school. The death of Greg Schulte has shaped almost the whole of my life, career, vocation on this earth to date. I have worked in many ways - since the events of March 28, 1987 - to be a person of great love, using the gifts I believe God gave me to inspire others in their life journeys; I have worked to cultivate young and old people's perceptions: to see and believe in themselves as beautifully, perfectly made and with a great purpose on this planet. Namely: to love.

When young people kill themselves in such alarming rates, I am called again to revisit my vocation, my response, my work.

My brain, heart, spirit go to my daughter. I look into the face and eyes of Marguerite Marie Kiemde: this beautiful five month old child conceived by François Kiemde and me. I don't want her journey as a young person to include such encounters with self-loathing, hate and fear that inspire such death. I don't want Marguerite - or any of her peers - to encounter the taunting, teasing, tormenting because they might be viewed as homosexual. I don't want any more young people to want to die and to act violently on this desire to not want to continue living.

I try to go to the root of this horrible phenomenon of young people committing suicide. I pray about the best way to address this, transform it, see a way toward a life-giving and loving response and solution.

I read. I listen. I pray. I talk to friends and family who are gay and those who fear homosexuality, and judge same-sex love and relationships as sinful.

I hold the news of these suicides alongside the recent release and mailing of a DVD by our archbishop in Minnesota who is working to define and defend marriage as that natural and appropriate for heterosexual men and women. And I pray. I hear a larger message about a call to partner and commitment, delivered I believe with the most sincere of intentions -- as one extended in love -- but also conveying a message of diminishment to all gay men and women who love and respond to their call to partner. I feel diminished in hearing the message.

I try to hold the contradictions. I wonder about how these messages of our church are connected with the deaths of young people? Is it possible our church leaders are part of the root problem inspiring a desire to die?

Ellen De Generes spoke recently to the bullying of gay young people on her TV show. I wonder how much of a problem this hate of gay children is with just younger people taunting them, as compared with their parents, teachers, priests, elders sending equally hateful messages that torment?


"Respect the person" is a phrase uttered repeatedly by our church and community leaders about our gay and lesbian brothers and sisters. This is a form of the "hate the sin, love the sinner" mantra coming from a number of our Catholic priests and bishops, Christian leaders. And I have to say: It's simply not enough. I have to back up and challenge the sin that is being identified in the heart of homosexuals. I ask: "What is it? The sin of loving someone of the same gender? The sin is desire? The sin is attraction? The sin is acting on your desire to love and connect?"

I keep hearing Sr. Eileen Currie, my spiritual director at Sacred Heart Jesuit Retreat Center in Colorado: "Who do you think gave you your desires?" After a brief pause, she answered emphatically: "GOD!" I can hear all the non-procreative arguments about the root of this desire to physically love someone of the same gender being wrong. And I hold firm: That any intentional alignment with another, of any gender, honoring the intimate soul and being of that person, is nothing, save for a generative and loving action. Period. Heterosexual. Homosexual. Love begets love. It fuels and inspires our every waking moment. If it can be honored, seen, as in fact what it is: the most natural and beautiful gift God gave us. The sin of our leaders, teachers, adults, preachers, is not seeing this, in my humble opinion. We diminish and trample on the dignity and gifts of whole faction of God's creation. It's rampant in our society, culture. And, then, it leads to this. Death.

Why does anyone want to live when all they see and experience are messages of how bad they are? When they are told their call to love is inferior, or rather, intrinsically evil and wrong?

I'm with Ellen. I'm with so many trying to create space to dialogue, educate, be in relationship, transform this fear-space and culture that perpetuates the desire of a person to die. I don't want this walk of fear, shame, death, tragedy for Marguerite, or anyone else's child. I pray for Love.

In peace and prayers,
Melissa Borgmann-Kiemde

Desmond Tutu on Human Rights

I came across the following writing by Desmond Tutu this week when a friend in Cape Town, South Africa, posted a link to this Washington Post article on her Facebook page. For the past couple of days, I've returned to Archbishop Tutu's words, and been inspired by the simplicity of his message; the largeness of love conveyed in his writing.

I've boldfaced passages that struck me in particular. Let me know what strikes a chord in you.

In love, peace, solidarity,

Melissa Borgmann-Kiemde

In Africa, a step backward on human rights

By Desmond Tutu

Friday, March 12, 2010

Hate has no place in the house of God. No one should be excluded from our love, our compassion or our concern because of race or gender, faith or ethnicity -- or because of their sexual orientation. Nor should anyone be excluded from health care on any of these grounds. In my country of South Africa, we struggled for years against the evil system of apartheid that divided human beings, children of the same God, by racial classification and then denied many of them fundamental human rights. We knew this was wrong. Thankfully, the world supported us in our struggle for freedom and dignity.

It is time to stand up against another wrong.

Gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgendered people are part of so many families. They are part of the human family. They are part of God's family. And of course they are part of the African family. But a wave of hate is spreading across my beloved continent. People are again being denied their fundamental rights and freedoms. Men have been falsely charged and imprisoned in Senegal, and health services for these men and their community have suffered. In Malawi, men have been jailed and humiliated for expressing their partnerships with other men. Just this month, mobs in Mtwapa Township, Kenya, attacked men they suspected of being gay. Kenyan religious leaders, I am ashamed to say, threatened an HIV clinic there for providing counseling services to all members of that community, because the clerics wanted gay men excluded.

Uganda's parliament is debating legislation that would make homosexuality punishable by life imprisonment, and more discriminatory legislation has been debated in Rwanda and Burundi.

These are terrible backward steps for human rights in Africa.

Our lesbian and gay brothers and sisters across Africa are living in fear.

And they are living in hiding -- away from care, away from the protection the state should offer to every citizen and away from health care in the AIDS era, when all of us, especially Africans, need access to essential HIV services. That this pandering to intolerance is being done by politicians looking for scapegoats for their failures is not surprising. But it is a great wrong. An even larger offense is that it is being done in the name of God. Show me where Christ said "Love thy fellow man, except for the gay ones." Gay people, too, are made in my God's image. I would never worship a homophobic God.

"But they are sinners," I can hear the preachers and politicians say. "They are choosing a life of sin for which they must be punished." My scientist and medical friends have shared with me a reality that so many gay people have confirmed, I now know it in my heart to be true. No one chooses to be gay. Sexual orientation, like skin color, is another feature of our diversity as a human family. Isn't it amazing that we are all made in God's image, and yet there is so much diversity among his people? Does God love his dark- or his light-skinned children less? The brave more than the timid? And does any of us know the mind of God so well that we can decide for him who is included, and who is excluded, from the circle of his love?

The wave of hate must stop. Politicians who profit from exploiting this hate, from fanning it, must not be tempted by this easy way to profit from fear and misunderstanding. And my fellow clerics, of all faiths, must stand up for the principles of universal dignity and fellowship. Exclusion is never the way forward on our shared paths to freedom and justice.

The writer is archbishop emeritus of Cape Town, South Africa. He won the Nobel Peace Prize in 1984.

Blogging for the Visitation Monastery in North Minneapolis

Family, Friends, Fans of "QueenMab" -- Far and Wide:

In the days, weeks, and months to come, I'll be devoting much more of my time to a new blog and website. The Visitation Sisters of North Minneapolis have asked me to write and host a blogsite for them as part of their vocations initiative to find "seven visionary women to be a prayerful presence in North Minneapolis." It's an absolute honor and privilege to be part of this campaign.

As many of you know, these nuns are near and dear to my heart; they've kept me not only breathing and upright over the course of the past decade, but cultivated a deep spirit of gratitude, expanding faith, and sense of hope as I've made my way from teaching at Minneapolis North High, and moved out into the world, trying to honor a calling to make change, build relationships, love, create and live well.

You have been with me through the "Teens Rock the Mic" and "Juno Collective" days; helped me host delightful, artful writing and teaching humans from abroad; followed along and aided in the transformation and sale of 1188 Juno; trekked through Africa with me on a six week journey at the start of my 40th year; and been witness to Francois Xavier Kiemde's courtship of yours truly, alongside our subsequent marriage.... Together, we have cracked open poems and scripture; asked contemplative questions on topics of leadership, governance and global citizenship; and meditated on the mundane. I invite you now to join me on this next adventure with the nuns! Come along as we search for these seven new women, explore the daily interactions at the monastery, and inhabit another contemplative realm where faith and action intersect.

Your good thoughts and prayers are deeply appreciated as we commence on this journey -- as I attempt to honor the fullness of these women's lives in this blog-writing venture....Who knows? Maybe you are acquainted with one of these women we are seeking? Perhaps this life of prayer and service speaks to you?

Love, Blessings,
Melissa Borgmann Kiemde
Visitation Vocations
www.visitationmonasteryminneapolis.org

Inctivus, Advent, Incarnation...

I wonder who among you has seen the recent film entitled, "Invictus"? Starring Morgan Freeman, as the newly-released-from-prison/ newly-elected-to-office President Nelson Mandela, alongside Matt Damon, playing South African Springbok Rugby captain, Francois Pienaar, the film places us squarely inside South Africa's transition from Apartheid rule to a free, Democratic nation. The time and period in our world's recent history is not without incredible charge, strife, and division among people. It's a time and period that calls us all to deeper reflection and contemplation of what it means to be united in the face of incredible adversity, diversity, conviction.

Enter Mandela. Enter a leader who exemplifies a radically new kind of authority and governance: one that is deeply acquainted with the victim, with the experience of the oppressed and marginalized, and yet is one who leads from a transcended space of love, compassion, and forgiveness. Enter Pienaar, another leader of sorts, who is called into this space to inspire his peers beyond their comfort and convictions into a place of equally transcended and transported action. Mandela and Pienaar are two starkly contrasted men who this film centers around in the name of delivering a narrative of hope and promise, of victory over fear and ignorance; it's a tale about the unity of people in spirit, mind, body.

On one hand, Invictus is an American film examining the post-Apartheid times and circumstances of our South African brothers and sisters. As a Clint Eastwood Production, it comes to the American public in this package and presentation that, for me as viewer, invites me to receive it within this lens. The Dirty-Harry-Unforgiven-Gran-Torino Eastwood delivers this story in a way that I must embrace as gift, as he - and the film's creators - present us with these larger questions around leadership and unity in the midst of deep divide. (How are the film's themes applicable to the American public? The larger world? It's rich!)

On another hand, Invictus is a David and Goliath sports flick, giving us an underdog team in the Springboks that strives to defeat the giant opponent in New Zealand's All Blacks. It is Hollywood flexing its American muscles inside a biblical metaphor. It's a film that culminates in sweet victory, a virtual miracle of sorts unfolding before our eyes when we all consider the human odds of Black and White camps and convictions, experience and athleticism, going into battle.

And now, a week after seeing the film, still reviewing a number of its moving scenes in my mind, I hold the fullness of the film's lessons about transcendent leadership and possibilities, inside of this Advent season. Invictus comes to me this day in a much larger light, one where its characters are considered inside of a faith perspective; that where a divine presence enters our midst and is seen in the most obscure places. Mandela as a President emerging from South Africa's apartheid prison. Pienaar as post-Apartheid athlete unifier. The uncanny, unfathomable, seemingly impossible, becomes possible, tanglible, quite real in this tale. There is an incarnation witnessed in this film as the should-be-conquered and conquerable reveal themselves to be as the movie title states: Invictus, Unconquerable.

I can see a Christ-figure born in each of these men: Mandela as compassionate intellectual posing questions of unity and leadership, inviting the black majority of South Africa to reconsider its battles with the former white majority rule. ("Why overturn the Springbok green and gold?) Pienaar, as athletic leader who wrestles with his privilege, his comfort, and ventures to see inspiration and possibility through the "other's" perspective. The rugby captain actually traveling to the new president's former prison cell at Robben Island, and contemplating what captivity has taught him about the human spirit, about compassion, about the invincibility of an unjustly accused and condemned man.

Whatever lens you choose to view this film through, I invite you to simply view it! Consider how its characters and circumstances speak to your heart. Consider these questions:

What does it mean to lead? What is at the center of your beliefs and actions? What inspires nations and its citizens? What creates hope and optimism in your own home? What is possible in the face of great odds? What is trying to get born in you today, in your work, on your field, in your lab, in your mind, within your family or community? How are you called to respond? Do you see yourself as unconquerable? Do you know that beauty and the divine dwell within and all around? Do you recognize your own capacity to forgive, to transcend those who have caused you the greatest grief or injury?

This season, I invite you all to see this film and meditate on its themes and many questions.

In peace and contemplation,

Love,

Melissa