Where is the Love?

I enjoyed reading this article on Andrew Sullivan's blog. It is a writer responding to an article on gay marriage. Whether or not you agree with his conclusions, this conversation is one with having. I'm convinced that so much of my Christianity has been based in fear instead of love. But if we believe that scripture is inspired, if we believe that it is His Word or His words, then we have to strongly weigh this verse: "There is no fear in love" (1 John 4:18). Can we hold to our belief system outside of fear? Can we related to those outside our belief system without resorting to fear? Where is the love?

Christian Fear Or Christian Love?
A reader writes [in response to a previous article]:

You write:

"Civil marriage for all; religious marriage for all who want to supplement it with God's grace. Why is that so hard for some people of faith to grasp? Why are their marriages defined not by the virtues they sustain but the people they exclude?"

(Emphasis mine.) Because -- as you well know -- their faiths themselves are defined by the people they exclude: the unbelievers, the unsaved (or let's be blunt: the "damned"), the always-demonized Other: without that division, that exclusion, their entire theology, indeed their entire worldview, collapses: a theology of inclusion is anathema to them, just as a politics, a sociology or even a science of inclusion (evolution) is anathema.

And why? Because despite their fine words, and their closely-guarded self-images, the actual and real ruling principle of their lives and their theology is fear, not love.

Everything flows from that original orientation, that original choice (because it is, finally, a choice). For them, to be inclusive is to expose themselves to what they fear; and what they fear most is summarized in their mythology of hell and eternal damnation: an eternal torture of body, mind, soul and spirit administered by an angry, vengeful, psychopathic god. It is all pure projection.

And irony of ironies, it is precisely the opposite of the message the Christian Savior tried to bring: that salvation is found only through love, through inclusion, through openness of mind and heart and spirit, through, ultimately, trust -- that this world, with all its difficulties and pain and imperfections, built through evolution, and including endless Others, is as it should be, as it was intended to be.

But that leap, from fear to trust, from fear to love, from fear to inclusion, is not an easy one, either for the individual or for a society. No evolutionary leap ever is -- and that is precisely what the leap from fear to love is: an evolutionary leap; evolution in action, evolution at the cognitive, emotional and spiritual levels. It's not easy, and it's not fast: we've been working on this for 2000 years -- and longer. Evolution takes its own time, but since this is the evolution of consciousness itself, we do have something to say about it: it's something we can consciously promote, and consciously accelerate -- and it's something we need to accelerate, and complete: the problems we face in this world, social, political and environmental, will not be solved by a people animated by fear.

We need to make the leap. Which is why gay marriage is important, beyond its importance to the individuals involved: the inclusion of the gay community -- the full inclusion -- within the human family is a necessary catalyst to this leap, just as the full inclusion of, for instance, the African-American and female communities have been necessary: A house divided against itself cannot stand; neither can it leap. This is where America can, and should, lead by example.

There is a radio program I heard yesterday that illustrates this leap from a fear-based to a love-based theology in the most personal terms, while reflecting the social and religious difficulties involved: the story of Reverend Carlton Pearson, "a renowned evangelical pastor in Tulsa, Oklahoma, who cast aside the idea of Hell, and with it everything he'd worked for over his entire life… Carlton Pearson's church, Higher Dimensions, was once one of the biggest in the city, drawing crowds of 5,000 people every Sunday. But several years ago, scandal engulfed the reverend. He didn't have an affair. He didn't embezzle lots of money. His sin was something that to a lot of people is far worse: He stopped believing in Hell... "

And he started believing in inclusion.

This program is nearly an hour long, but worth it (Chicago Public Radio's "This American Life" does a fantastic job). Listen especially to that part of the story, towards the end, when Reverend Pearson, cast out as a heretic by the fundamentalist evangelical community and shunned by all his old friends and colleagues, is invited to a gay church in San Francisco: what happens there moves him to tears as he tells it, and it is moving; it is what real Christianity ought to be.

Original article found here.