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 47member 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 BrowardBahamas 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."
(sidebar)
By James D. Davis
Sunday, May 2, 2010
Lutherans might be at the leading edge of issues surrounding religion and
homosexuality, but other religious groups have staked out their positions as well:
Episcopal Church: Episcopalians allow gay ordinations, although bishops
are not required to perform them.
The church's triennial general convention last year called for development of
same-gender blessings. Meanwhile, the convention said, bishops may give
"generous pastoral response" to couples in states that permit gay unions.
In Florida, which doesn't recognize gay marriage, the ruling has little effect.
Bishop Leopold Frade of Southeast Florida allows priests -- but doesn't require
them -- to bless same-sex unions of couples from states and countries that allow
them.
United Church of Christ: The most liberal Protestant group, the UCC in
1972 was the first mainline denomination to ordain an openly gay person. In
2005, it accepted same-sex marriage. The UCC regards gay rights as equivalent to
ordination of blacks and women, and to writing hymns about God as both male
and female - all of which it has done.
Roman Catholic Church: America's (and the world's) largest religious
organization declares homosexual acts as "intrinsically disordered" and teaches
that the Bible presents them as "grave depravity." All Catholic priests are
expected to refrain from sexual activity, including homosexual activity.
Gay Catholics are expected to live in chastity, according to the church's
catechism. However, the catechism also says they "must be accepted with respect,
compassion and sensitivity," and denounces "unjust discrimination" against
them.
Judaism: Jews, in general, are on the liberal side of most social issues. The
Pew Religious Landscape Study of 2008 found that 79 percent of Jews believe
homosexuality "should be accepted by society," higher than Catholics, mainline
Protestants or even the unaffiliated.
But various Jewish movements part company on specifics. Orthodox Jews say
no to gay unions and ordination. Reform and Reconstructionist Jews support
both.
In the middle-of-the-road Conservative movement, a committee of scholars in
2006 adopted contradictory positions - both for and against gay unions essentially leaving it up to individual rabbis. The Conservative-aligned Jewish
Theological Seminary also accepts gays for rabbinical and cantorial studies, says
Rabbi Yaakov Thompson of the Sunrise Jewish Center.
"In every congregation, the rabbi is the local arbiter for the congregation and
for himself," says Thompson, a 27-year veteran of South Florida. "Although there
is a central [Conservative] authority, it doesn't mean every rabbi has to perform
same-sex ceremonies."
United Methodist Church: This mainline body prides itself on its
inclusiveness. Various pronouncements have said that "all persons are of sacred
worth" and assert the right of anyone to attend worship, receive sacraments and
participate in its programs. A 2008 resolution also condemns homophobia and
"heterosexism." But the church adds that gay practice is "incompatible with
Christian teaching," and "self-avowed practicing homosexuals" may not be
ordained as ministers.
Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.): The Book of Order, the PCUSA's
constitution, forbids excluding anyone from leadership or participation because
of sex, race, color or other conditions. Beyond that, it says little in particular on
human sexuality. However, it requires church officers to live in fidelity in
marriage, chastity in singleness. PCUSA's Directory of Worship also defines
marriage as between a man and a woman.
Southern Baptist Convention: The largest American Protestant group,
more than 16 million strong, maintains a blanket opposition. "Homosexuality is
not a valid alternative lifestyle," says the SBC.net website. "The Bible condemns it
as sin." It adds that sexually active gays, like other sinners, can find forgiveness in
Christ.
Southern Baptist congregations are self-governing and not required to follow
national positions. However, the "doctrinal watchdog" for Baptist belief is the
local association, says Barbara Denman, communications director of the Florida
Baptist Convention. Churches in other states have been ousted from local
associations for accepting gays as members, she says.
**
By James D. Davis
Friday, August 27, 2010
Shaikh Shafayat Mohamed is worried. He's seen the Islam-bashing talk shows
and read the blogs. He knows about "Burn a Koran Day." He's heard the protests
against building an Islamic community center near ground zero in New York.
And as the holy month of Ramadan continues -- and the ninth anniversary of
9-11 nears -- he fears that some Muslims will, as he mildly terms it, "do
something foolish."
"It takes one radical to whip up emotions," says Mohamed, the imam at Darul
Uloom, Pembroke Pines. "And I don't want Muslims to act irresponsibly. It could
be concrete evidence to a lot of people that all Muslims are terrorists.
"If some Muslims are misrepresenting the Quran, others need to outdo them in
correctly representing it."
Mohamed is right about public opinion: It's deeply conflicted over Islam.
The Pew Research Center announced this week that only 30 percent of
Americans have a favorable view of the religion, 11 percent lower than in 2005.
Yet the people who do not believe Islam encourages violence more than other
religions, 42 percent, outnumber those who do, 35 percent.
Mohamed and other Muslim leaders are trying to change attitudes. They're
going online and on the air, holding open houses, hosting interfaith conferences.
And they are pleading with their followers to return anger and suspicion with
reason and tolerance.
In May, Mohamed founded Al-Hikmat Live (alhikmatlive.com), a 24/7 webcast
of talk shows, documentaries, interfaith event coverage, women's issues, health
advice and quranic recitation. The broadcast, whose name means "wisdom," also
includes the regular Friday prayer service at Darul Uloom "to show we have
nothing to hide," Mohamed says.
Al-Hikmat Live will broadcast an interfaith panel discussion at 6:30 p.m.
Saturday from Darul Uloom, with Christian, Hindu, Jewish and Buddhist leaders
giving their views on "Burn a Koran Day."
The goal is to be proactive, the imam says, showing off Al-Hikmat's tiny studio
and offices in Miramar. "Muslims are always backward; we wait to be interviewed
after hate crimes happen. Why not do things beforehand?"
The Islamic Center of Boca Raton is also trying to present a positive face for
Islam. The mosque is planning an open house Tuesday through Thursday, along
with Iftar, the traditional Ramadan nighttime meal after each day's fast.
Imam Fathi Khalfi shares some of Mohamed's concerns. "Some [Muslims] are
angry and fear for their future in this country. They fear for their kids and their
jobs. The Quran says to be patient, to keep our manners."
Islamic Center leaders often address community organizations and bring
speakers to Florida Atlantic University. Basem Al Halabi, a board member of the
mosque, also helps organize the annual Interfaith Summit for the Delray Beach
Clergy Association, of which he is vice president. The gathering sits people from
various faiths at roundtables to compare and contrast beliefs.
In Sunrise, the Islamic Foundation of South Florida holds a monthly interfaith
gathering, and Imam Yahya Ederer has a radio show, "Islam on Faith Avenue,"
on WHSR (980-AM). He's speaking every Tuesday of Ramadan at Abbey Delray.
And he contributes to a blog, suhaibwebb.com, on topics like "Forbearance and
Composure."
Ederer describes his own congregation as sophisticated, including doctors,
engineers and business people. "They're quite integrated with society," he says.
"But they know Islamophobia has become a major problem. I teach them that
they can criticize policy and policymakers, but not America in general. If they did,
they would be seen as anti-American."
"Burn a Koran Day" is the idea of the Dove World Outreach Center in
Gainesville. The church is also selling T-shirts saying "Islam is of the Devil," and
a book by Pastor Terry Jones with the same title. Its website lists "Ten Reasons to
Burn a Koran."
Places as well as Qurans are being targeted, especially Park51, to be built two
blocks from ground zero. On Sunday, hundreds of people faced off in lower
Manhattan in two groups -- one against the community center, the other in favor.
Another organization, Stop the Islamization of America, plans to rally on Sept. 11.
In reaction, about 40 community and interfaith groups on Wednesday
announced support for Park51. Calling itself New York Neighbors for American
Values, the coalition plans a candlelight vigil on the night before Sept. 11.
Other regions, too, have seen growing antagonism to mosques. In at least six
states, according to the Muslim American Society, neighbors and governments
have been fighting plans for new or expanded mosques. Those include Pompano
Beach, where some ministers in recent years have protested building plans by the
Islamic Center of South Florida.
Occasionally it gets violent. Vandals shot at the Islamic School of Miami last
year, and a firebomb exploded at a mosque in Jacksonville in May.
According to the Pew survey this week, 51 percent of Americans frowned on
building an Islamic center near ground zero. Paradoxically, 62 percent said
Muslims should have the same rights as other religions to build houses of
worship. Only 25 percent believe communities should be able to block
construction of local mosques.
Behind much of it is the fear that Islam encourages violence, a fear fueled by
events like the shootings at Fort Hood, Texas, last November, and the attempted
car bombing in New York's Times Square in May. And in early August, the FBI
said Adnan El Shukrijumah -- a former Miramar resident -- had become head of
global operations for al-Qaida.
For their part, most American Muslims reject killing. Pew found in December
that 78 percent say violence against civilians can never be justified, and another 5
percent say such attacks can rarely be justified. Only 8 percent said suicide
bombing is sometimes or often justified.
Some believers simply disavow terrorism, saying terrorists are not true
Muslims.
"I don't know those people, we don't know what they teach, and we are not part
of that," says Imam Mooneer Khan of the Islamic Movement of Florida, a mosque
in Hollywood. "The Quran tells us that if you kill anyone, you kill the entire
human race. And the Prophet Muhammad said we should love for our brother
what we love for ourselves."
But that isn't good enough, in Shafayat Mohamed's view. He gives the analogy
of a fish market.
"Even if you don't buy anything, you come out smelling like fish," he says.
"There are extremists in America. They need to be isolated and educated on true
Islam."
Mohamed is especially concerned that Sept. 11, the date of the planned Quranburning in Gainesville, will likely fall on Eid al-Fitr, one of Islam's biggest
festivals.
"Some Muslims could get emotional and do something foolish," the imam says.
"I'd like to ask them: 'Do you know that it could harm Islam, and add more salt to
the wound?' "
The Muslim leaders, though, have set an elusive goal. How do they know
they're reducing prejudice? How do you count insults that aren't thrown, bullets
that aren't fired, Qurans that aren't burned? How to measure success?
For Bassem Al Halabi of the Boca Raton mosque, it's a matter of faces. Those of
the 150 or so who attend each Interfaith Summit.
"When people from different faiths share stories and experiences, and how they
think of each other, it promotes tolerance and understanding," he says. "I see
them happy at the end of each meeting.
"We see that besides our religious differences, we share a lot of basic human
experiences."