To My Brothers and Sisters in M.O.M.'s

I know that, for many folks, what I'm about to ask you seems counter-intuitive, but the better I've gotten to know those of you who are in so-called "mixed-orientation marriages," the more I've learned about the particular trials and challenges you face and the kinds of support you need, the more it seems to me you are in a unique position to understand some of the particular trials and challenges I face in my same-sex marriage.

One of the major reasons for marriage in the first place is because we recognize that no couple is an island. That's why marriage is a public institution. It's a way of proclaiming to the entire community, to all our friends and family, just what kind of commitment we've made to the one person in the world who is dearest to us. One reason marriage matters, is because we want and need others to sustain us in our commitment.

And nothing hurts more -- when we're really serious about that commitment -- than to have other people questioning it behind our backs. It hurts to have others judge our relationship, or undermine it by publicly criticizing it or announcing that they think we never should have made it. The time to express such doubts is not now, not after we've made such a commitment. That's not how marriage is supposed to work. The only people whose job it is to decide how much our relationship matters, and to figure out what we are willing to do in order to make it work is those of us who are in the relationship. If a relationship ultimately doesn't work out and it needs to end, that's our business, and if we need help in the process of dissolving a union, we'll ask for it. In the meantime, if we got married, if we figuratively and literally made our vows before the world, that means what we're asking of the world is support, unqualified, unconditional love and support. And that's what it's the world's responsibility to give.

The more I learn about so-called mixed-orientation marriages, the more I understand this, and the more I empathize with the discouragement and pain you must often feel about the type of criticism that often gets directed toward you, often in the form of unsolicited, supposedly "well-meaning" advice.

I also empathize with the added burden of feeling -- if you are open about the fact of having a mixed-orientation marriage -- like you are living your life "in a fishbowl," of having everybody watching you, scrutinizing every problem or every mistake you make, waiting for you to fail so they can then say, "I told you so." We are all human, and everyone makes mistakes. Marriage is all about making (and recovering from!) mistakes. Marriage is all about forgiveness and grace. But somehow people forget that this is true for you as it is for everybody else.

I empathize with the burden of having people constantly cite statistics supposedly proving that your marriage can't last, that it's destined to fail. Can't that attitude become a self-fulfilling prophecy, and shouldn't people be rooting for you to succeed?

My empathy for you and my desire for you to succeed, by the way, doesn't translate into judgment or lack of sympathy for those who have had to end their marriages because they just didn't work out. These choices are never made lightly; they are always painful. As your brother, I owe it to you to just be there for you; to give you the same freedom and love I ask for myself to discern your own path and to go where you see the greatest hope, light and love. I owe it to you to just be here for you, to help lighten your burdens along the way.

And I hope you consider it your duty to be there for me in just the same way.

I empathize with you because I, a gay man in a relationship with a man, face many similar challenges. I too face skepticism about whether my relationship is appropriate or moral. I too have to deal with the attitude that people like me aren't "capable" of sustaining a commitment. I too find myself as an openly gay man living in a relationship with a man, having to, in a way, live my life "in a fishbowl," with people watching our every move, our every mistake, so they can cite it as proof that my relationship is all wrong, and so that they can say, "I told you so."

I have to live with one added burden, however, that you don't. My relationship with my husband is not legally recognized. Here in Minnesota, I don't even have the minimal protections of legal "civil unions" or "domestic partnerships." In many states, my marriage is now legally banned. I love and want to care for my husband in poverty and wealth, in sickness and in health; but the laws of our land make that much more difficult. I am in essence told by our society and by the state that my love for my spouse is not "real," that it is not as valid as any other couple's love. People feel obligated to pass laws and constitutional amendments to make sure that my husband and I, loud and clear, get the message that what we have doesn't matter and doesn't deserve anybody's support.

I'm appealing to you because, as I understand it, many of those who want to deny me the opportunity to marry do so because they claim to be concerned about protecting your marriage. Somehow they think that if I'm allowed to marry, it takes something away from you, and makes your commitment harder to sustain.

Many people in the gay community also want to pit your happiness and welfare against mine. Many want to argue that mixed-orientation marriages delegitimize same-sex marriages and relationships, and that's one reason many gay rights supporters are so critical of folks in your situation. I disagree. My love for my partner is rich and multi-faceted, and it will succeed or fail based on the love and work I am willing to put into it. I don't begrudge your efforts to make your marriage succeed. I'm rooting for you and I want you to be happy, just as I hope to find happiness myself.

I honestly believe that if relationships like mine were legal, many fewer people in the gay community would see your relationships as a threat, precisely because relationships like yours are often used to justify legal opposition to relationships like mine.

It doesn't have to be that way. I believe that love is a commodity we never need to run out of. The more support folks in my situation have for our relationships, the more love and support there is to go around to folks in your situation.

I hope you can empathize with how painful it is for me and my loved ones to have to go through a public referendum in which people get to vote on whether they think our relationship is valid or not. It's probably not hard for you to imagine how painful it would be for you if some legislature decided to pass a law banning mixed-orientation marriages. You can probably imagine the unkind sorts of things that might be said in public debates about this. That's what I and my husband are being subjected to right now.

I've made it known in my personal conversations and on my blog that I unconditionally support your marriages, and believe they deserve every bit of respect any other marriage deserves. I believe these all-important decisions about who we choose as a life partner should be left to individual conscience, and I believe society benefits from supporting all stable, loving relationships of this nature. I will continue to stand up for you, because it seems to me like the right thing to do.

If you don't see how passing laws to ban me and my husband from being married makes your marriage stronger, I hope you'll speak out. I hope you'll have the decency to let people know that these laws don't help you, and that the legislators who pass them don't speak for you. I hope you'll consider extending a hand to those of us in my situation, offering us the love and support you hope for people to offer you.

Those of you who know, and love, and respect me, I am asking you now for help, to please stand up for me and my family too, in this particularly difficult time, when people in my state are getting ready to legally ban my marriage in our state constitution. I hope you too will see the rightness of standing up in this situation, on behalf of real people in real relationships, who need support no less than you. I will be eternally grateful if you do.

The Temple, Revisited

Yesterday, a non-Mormon friend of mine asked me: "I wonder if you could explain to me why Mormons don't allow non-Mormons into their temples? There must be some kind of theology behind it... I just find it kind of unusual, since where I go to church (the Episcopal Church) everyone is allowed to come into the church."

I explained to her that actually Mormons also have meeting houses where we gather for worship every Sunday, and that everyone is allowed to come into those meeting houses and join us for worship if they wish. But the temples were special.

"Well," she continued, "I'm still curious what the theology is behind not allowing everybody into the temple, because you were saying to me that you were not allowed to go into the temple."

I really liked the way she posed this question. I thought it was one of the most respectful ways I've ever heard this question asked. Because in acknowledging that "there must be some kind of theology" behind it, she was in essence saying, "Clearly Mormons have a good reason behind this rule, and I would really appreciate if you could explain it to me."

But I also found that the way she posed this question required me to think more deeply about this question. It wasn't enough to explain simply that this was a rule set by the Church. She wanted to understand the "theology" behind it.

My stab at explaining this to her was to say, "Well, Mormons regard the temple as one of the most sacred places on earth. One of the reasons we build temples is because we expect that these are places where the Lord can literally come to visit us."

Reflecting on my experience at the temple this past Friday night, I added, "When I was just recently at the temple, I can say that I literally felt Christ's presence there, even just in the waiting area outside the temple proper. I could feel his presence and his love and his embrace there."

"Because temples are so sacred, Mormons feel that only those who are making sincere efforts to follow Jesus Christ should enter. We don't have to be perfect, but we need to be obeying at least all the major commandments as a sign that we are loyal to him and want to follow him." She asked a few more questions about the mechanics of how that worked, so I explained the system of obtaining and regularly renewing temple recommends.

I guess I was unprepared for how powerful an experience it actually would be to visit the temple last Friday as part of my ward's temple night. The experience has continued to dwell with me throughout the entire weekend and into this morning. I've found myself revisiting the temple in my mind, and longing to go back. As we did some centering and meditation exercises this morning as part of my daily yoga, I found myself there again in my mind/heart/soul.

My sense of the presence of Christ there was so powerful. And it wasn't until this morning that I was able to put my finger on an adequate analogy to describe exactly how I experienced that presence. When I go to the doctor for my routine annual physical, I enter a kind of passive state. The doctor listens to my heart, he tests my reflexes, he asks me to cough. I do what the doctor asks, but in a passive state, allowing him to examine and determine the level of my physical health. I don't try to diagnose myself; I'm not in a position to do that. The doctor does it for me. I trust the doctor implicitly, and I do what he asks me to do for my own well being.

That feeling of trust is the best analogy I can imagine of how it felt to me to be there at the temple. I felt Christ's superabundant love for me, and I felt his power and his care for me. And I had no desire to do anything but to rest in it, and let it work in me. It was slightly unsettling to let go of any desire to evaluate myself, or make my own determinations as to what I need in order to be spiritually healthy. But I felt OK with that, because the tremendous peace and love of Christ that I felt there persuaded me that he knows my best interests, and how best to heal me and care for me, and if I trust him and let him, all will be well. Christ is my true physician, not just the caretaker of my body, but of my whole soul: body, mind and spirit.

I am so grateful for this. I never imagined it possible to feel the things I felt there and to experience the things I experienced. This was an unexpected gift, and I've found in my prayers since, I could only express tearful gratitude for the great love my Heavenly Father and my older brother Jesus Christ have for me.

I can't believe that this gift was given to me.