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Photo By Jymi Bolden
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The struggle for inclusion continues at Mt. Auburn
Presbyterian Church, according to (back) Bucky
Ignatius and Van Ackerman and (front, L-R) Melinda
Tarter, Meghan Kaskoun and Pat Timm.
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"We forgive ourselves and each other; we begin again in love."
-- Prayer of Confession and Atonement, Aug. 17 at Mt. Auburn Presbyterian Church
A Celtic cross fashioned from melted World War I belt buckles adorns the sanctuary of Mt. Auburn Presbyterian Church, a testament to creation out of strife.
The congregation is working to recreate itself after the June 16 removal of its pastor, the Rev. Steven Van Kuiken, by the governing Presbytery. The denomination removed Van Kuiken from the ministry for continuing to perform marriage ceremonies for same-sex couples.
A handful of church members resigned in response. Others simply haven't returned to Mt. Auburn Presbyterian since June 15. Those who continue to attend services in this breezy sanctuary of golden oak mourn the loss of their pastor and their fellow parishioners.
Van Ackerman, Pat Timm, Bucky Ignatius, Meghan Kaskoun and Melinda Tarter embrace the task of reinventing their church from within. They want people to know Mt. Auburn's doors are still wide open to all people, including gays and lesbians.
"We're as committed as ever to moving forward with full inclusion," Ackerman says.
They support the parish's commitment to staying within the Presbyterian denomination.
"We want the next generation of children to have a place in the Presbyterian Church and experience no alienation as a result of prejudice," Timm says.
Van Kuiken married Tarter and Kaskoun in the May 17 ceremony that provided final grounds for his removal.
Sue Cline is among those who have not returned to Mt. Auburn since June 15. She fears the decision to honor Van Kuiken's dismissal indicates a retreat from what she saw as the church's prophetic witness.
"If the Presbyterian denomination had thrown us out ... that's the consequence of being bold," she says. "We called this man three-and-a-half years ago. We asked him through our policies to behave as Jesus would behave. Then we said to him, 'Who the hell do you think you are, Jesus?' "
Cline resigned from the church and its internal governing body last week.
"I love these people very much," she says, and cries. "It's a case of a whole lot of people trying to do good things. It's not black and white, and it's not just about Steve Van Kuiken."
Cline objects to reworking policies on ordaining practicing gays and lesbians and same-sex marriages to make them "defensible" to future challenges. She believes the church can't play with words while adhering to Jesus' teachings.
Rewording its ordination policies gives the church a position to defend in church court if charged again, Ignatius says.
"Failure to plan is planning to fail," he says. "We make no bones about the fact that we have practicing gays and lesbians as deacons and elders."
The church is merely reflecting on its policy on same-sex marriages, Timm says. No future same-sex weddings have yet been scheduled.
Though Cline says her perspective puts her in the minority, she is not alone: a dozen to three dozen Mt. Auburn congregants have gathered in various homes every Sunday since June 15 for devotion, prayer and comfort. The meetings are scheduled to accommodate people who first attend Mt. Auburn's service.
Though Van Kuiken sometimes joins, no one leads, she says.
"It's actually very sacred in a way," Cline says. "We don't sit around and say how bad Mt. Auburn is because none of us feel that way. We're sad."
Timm acknowledges that some members considered Van Kuiken's removal a threshold issue.
"We will lose some because of losing leadership," she says. "It has not split our congregation."
Conversely, a few who left because of the controversy have returned.
"Two hundred people come for at least 175 different reasons," Ignatius says.
Ackerman sees disagreement within the church as joyful, because dialogue keeps the congregation moving forward. He thinks the events of the summer strengthened participation in the church.
Mt. Auburn will soon choose an interim pastor to lead the congregation for the next one to two years.
"In that process, you claim your history and invent your future simultaneously," and failure to do that could leave the church trapped in its history, Timm says.
Mt. Auburn Presbyterian faces more legal hurdles. Paul Rolf Jensen, the California attorney who initially filed complaints against Van Kuiken, has filed additional complaints on behalf of two local Presbyterian congregations against Mt. Auburn for approving the use of its sanctuary for same-sex weddings, Cline says.
Jensen files similar complaints against progressive churches across the nation, according to Cline.
"We don't even know what he looks like," she says.
Ignatius believes there's little chance the complaints to the Presbytery will turn into formal charges. Though he says there's a sentiment the action reflects "kicking-you-when-you're-down theology," the Christian challenge is to treat everyone with love.
As for the local Presbyterian churches filing complaints, Kaskoun tries to respect where they are on their journey.
"In those congregations there are also people who have a diverse point of view," Timm says.
The challenge strengthens Tarter's determination to stay within the Presbyterian denomination to usher in change in a positive light.
"There are people in those congregations who are mortified to say who they are and live their lives fully," she says.
For Ignatius, a lesson emerges.
"Full inclusion includes people you disagree with," he says. ©
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