For the purposes of this assignment, my classmate and I decided we would go to a Missouri Synod Lutheran church as a lesbian couple. We are both heterosexual females in long-term relationships, so this was by no means a commonplace occurrence in our day-to-day lives. So, how did we pull off the illusion of being a homosexual couple in church? We decided we would only engage in behavior that would not be considered inappropriate if engaged in by a heterosexual couple in that setting--we walked in holding hands, I put my arm around the back of her pew when we were seated, we tilted our heads toward one another, she placed her hand on the small of my back when we were standing, and when we were waiting in the receiving line at the end of the service, she ran her fingers up and down my back. The only time we verbally alluded to the fact that we were a couple was when the pastor asked my classmate why she was not baptized. After she explained her family background, I added, “[w]e are really trying to incorporate faith into our relationship. We are looking at different churches until we find a home congregation, and then we will have her baptized.” I saw his eyes flicker with mild surprise when I mentioned “our relationship,” but his smile never changed, and he simply reminded us to “keep Christ at the forefront” of whatever we did.
The Lutheran Church Missouri Synod has published a pamphlet entitled “What About Homosexuality?” which details its interpretation of the Bible’s views on homosexuality and talks about how one should deal with a person engaged in this particular “sin.” Specifically, it states “‘God is presenting to the Church a great challenge and opportunity. We can proclaim the Word of God in a clear and fresh manner. We can offer new hope to sinners whom God loves. We can apply the Means of Grace to another area of human need, so that sins can be forgiven and the Spirit’s power employed to create new life in Christ.'" (http://www.lcms.org/graphics/assets/media/LCMS/wa_homosexuality.pdf) With these words in mind, and recalling my own past experiences with this particular branch of Christianity, I did not expect that we would be in danger or even verbally berated. I predicted that if anyone was bold enough to inquire about or mention our status as a couple, it would be done delicately.
My predictions were largely correct. When we entered the church, the usher asked us if we were looking for someone, but once I told him we were there to worship, he quickly handed us hymnals and a bulletin (although he did hand us the previous week’s bulletin in his haste). There were only 25-30 people attending the service, so we were in plain view of everyone present, and the pastor made a point to welcome us in the middle of the service, so there is no possibility that people did not notice us. I observed a lot of sideways stares from the congregants directed our way throughout the service. At one point, a woman took a pen and wrote a note to her husband on the bulletin, who then performed a stretch that allowed him to glance backwards at us. We also seemed to be greatly amusing to the teenage boys who were sitting in the pew across from us, for they kept stealing glances at us and giggling throughout the service. After the service, almost every person who passed us said “Welcome,” but no one stopped to learn our names or find out anything about us.
For all of the logical predicting I did regarding other people’s reactions, however, I never once imagined how nervous I would be once we actually did this. My hands were trembling, my stomach was flipping, and the whole first half-hour I was there, one pervasive thought was screaming in my head—“I hate this! I want to go home!” As time passed, the physiological symptoms of nervousness faded, but I was never completely at ease with my role. I know myself well enough to know that I was uncomfortable because I was very aware that I was doing something that would draw attention to me, and I am definitely a girl who prefers to blend into the background. I was entirely out of my comfort zone, not because I was pretending to be gay, but because I was different from everyone else. If I had been doing a project that required us to pose as a homosexual couple at a church filled with other homosexual couples, I know I would not have been nervous at all.
However, that detail illustrates the most poignant lesson I learned from this project. The fact that I am uncomfortable drawing attention to myself in a crowd of people is not a trait solely reserved for heterosexual people. I am struck by how grossly unfair it is to homosexuals, with personality traits similar to mine, who may wish to attend a house of worship with their significant other, to have to endure being stared at and snickered at during an hour-long service. If a heterosexual, unmarried couple attended a new church, it is hard to imagine that anyone would give a second thought if they walked in holding hands or sat a little nearer to each other than mere acquaintances. Even though nothing blatantly confrontational occurred, nothing blatantly accepting happened either, and that uncomfortable fact alone may be enough to discourage homosexual couples from attending houses of worship.
I have always known that homosexuals are treated differently in our society, but now I know it is not something you can truly know until you have felt what “different” feels like. It was not a good feeling, and it saddens me to know that some people have to either experience that kind of discomfort on an everyday basis or regularly modify their behavior so that they will not be singled out of the crowd.
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