I think the whole thing is wrong. A vast majority of Americans shouldn't be voting on rights that will be given to a meager minority. I hope that the federal court in California realizes the mistake they made by allowing the public to change their constitution by just a 4% margin. The opposition to Prop 8 is "shouting" because they're sick of feeling depressed every time a state announces that the love they share with their partners means nothing in that particular state. And that's happened a good number of times. It's simply maddening.
The Church of Latter Day Saints should be ashamed for using their millions to support a cause that will hinder regular people that just want to have their love recognized, rather than using it toward something more enlightening. How could anyone vote yes on this bill and not subconsciously feel like a complete douchebag?
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Less Shouting, More Talking
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That hurt. I have spent several decades of my life trying to spell out an evangelical alternative to "the worst kind of fundamentalism." My friends and I have argued that the Bible supports racial justice, gender equality, peacemaking and care for the environment—views that often draw the ire of the worst kind of fundamentalists. But none of that seems to matter to folks who don't like our views about same-sex relations. Because we also believe that the Bible frowns on sexual intimacy outside of marriage between a man and a woman, we are being relegated to the margins of the civil dialogue.
I refuse to go to the margins. As my fellow citizens in a pluralistic society, gays and lesbians have a right to ask me what my sincerely held convictions mean for how they pursue their way of lives.
While my views about sexuality are shaped by my religious convictions, I know that I cannot simply quote the Bible in arguing for public policy. Not every sin ought to be made illegal. But in this case, the issues go deep. For many of us, "normalizing" same-sex marriage comes down to deep concerns about the raising of our children and grandchildren. What will they be taught about sexual and family values in our schools? How will they be affected by the ways the entertainment media portray people with our kinds of views? And will we even be allowed to counter these influences in our homes and churches without being accused of "hate speech"?
And, fair or unfair, "slippery slope" concerns loom large. Are there limits to what we can be asked to tolerate when it concerns matters that violate our convictions? If we were to accept mutual consent and deeply felt convictions as a sufficient basis for allowing the legalization of same-sex relationships, what would keep us from extending marriage to a three-partner arrangement?
But I also want to hear from folks who worry about my views. What is it about people like me that frightens you so much? What would you need to hear from us that would reduce your anxiety? What is your vision of a flourishing pluralistic society? Where do people like me fit into that kind of society?
Maybe I am unrealistic in thinking we can have this national conversation. But the alternatives are frightening. Posing this question has worked at other times when people seemed hopelessly at odds. So let's try asking it now as a nation, and in a gentle tone: Can we talk?
Mouw is the president of Fuller Theological Seminary in Pasadena, Calif.
© 2009
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