Tales from Rural Maine: International friendship

My high-tech publishing work colleague in Minsk and I had a few minutes to visit the other day before our meeting leader arrived in a conference call. My colleague is a little younger than me. While we were waiting, he told me that he is very happy that I have found work (my yoga) that makes me so happy. He also said he had read my blog about Samantha Smith and that he talked with his older sister about it.

They remember! Vividly. He said Soviet children dreamt of being invited to the camp on the Baltic where Samantha visited. She represented, for them, a particular dream. And they remember watching her on television and reading about her in the papers. Their memories are positive.

It was wonderful--surreal--to realize that more than three decades ago my colleague and his sister and I were children on either side of the Iron Curtain; that Samantha Smith, a little girl from Maine, touched each of our hearts with a dream of peace and friendship—and summering on the Baltic.

Samantha died in a plane crash while she was still a young girl. But thanks, I believe, in part to her efforts, my colleague in Belarus and I are now collaborators and friends. I like to think that it all began with an open-hearted letter from a little girl in Maine to a communist world leader. Now, every year on my birthday and on the Solstice, too, because he knows I love it, I get a letter from a man who was once a young boy in the Soviet Union. This year on my birthday, he said this:

“Dear Naomi,

…You inspire us to use our language as proficiently as possible, but you also inspire us with your thoughts, blogs, ideas, etc. We respect you as a person that has a very deep soul and mind—and my wish is that it would be great if as much people as possible could learn from you. ;) So I would like to thank you for this—and remember that we are grateful not only today, but any time we think of you. ;) Have a good celebration! =)”

I have been working with Belarusians for seven years, but it wasn't until the other day, when my work friend brought up Samantha Smith, that I realized that having colleagues in the former Soviet Republic is actually remarkable. It has felt so normal, so unremarkable to me that until he brought up his childhood recollections of Samantha Smith, it hadn't even occurred to me that he was there then, one of the children in a country we were supposed to think of as the enemy. If things had gone differently, our leaders might have bombed us each into oblivion. If things had gone differently, we would not only not be collaborators, we would, technically, just by virtue of our respective citizenships, be enemies. We would not know the sound of one another's voices. We would not send beautiful birthday wishes. We would not learn the things we learn from one another. I would not have received his kindness and he would not have received my appreciation.

I know that there is a whole lot wrong in the world today and that our government is replete with ineptitude, greed, and bungling; that too many people are suffering under governments even worse than ours; and that “Muslims” have for many Americans become the “Soviets”—the stand-in for the concept of “bad guys” in our fantasies of a world where there is only ever one good guy…us (spelled “U. S.”).

But I believe that for every mad bomber with religious motivations, there are a thousand Alexeis and a thousand Naomis—people from different countries and cultures and faiths who look into the world and see the possibility for friendship, for peace, for learning. For every person seeking violent conflict in the world, I believe there are ten thousand children who dream of peace, just like Samantha Smith did.

To everyone who offers kindness in the face of conflict; everyone who understands “Muslim” is not the same as “terrorist.” To everyone who speaks truth to power: As Alex says, “I would like to thank you for this—and remember that we are grateful not only today, but any time we think of you.”

Read more about Samantha Smith here. 

Tales from Rural Maine: The legacy of Samantha Smith

Among the saddest days of my childhood was August 25, 1985. On this day, Samantha Smith, a bright and shining light in the form of a 13-year-old girl, died with her father in a plane crash in Maine. I never met Samantha, but I felt deeply connected to her.

Like Samantha, I was from a small town in Maine. We were both practical and sensitive, inclined to write letters to world leaders. And with our birthdays just two days apart, I always felt that we were together, a part of something special. Samantha had this effect on people—to unify them, to connect them, to make them feel a sense of togetherness.

Samantha and I shared a desire that many children of our generation shared, a desire for peace and understanding between all nations. When we were just ten years old, Samantha and I each wrote letters to world leaders, asking about nuclear war, asking our leaders please not to have one. I wrote mine to President Ronald Reagan and got no response. She wrote hers to to Soviet Premier Yuri Andropov. When he didn’t reply, she followed up with a letter to the Russian embassy. A few months later, Andropov replied in a personal letter written to Samantha.

Samantha Smith with Andropov's letter. Image courtesy of SamanthaSmith.info 

From there, things took off. There was a lot of press attention and Samantha and her family were invited to visit the Soviet Union as guests of the Premier.

This beautiful and exciting journey of peace absolutely captivated me. I believed in the power of little girls to make a difference. I believed in the power of love and peace. I believed in the power of togetherness. And I believed in the power of words on paper. Samantha Smith proved that all of that faith was justified.

In July of 1983, Samantha (now aged 11) and her parents embarked on a two-week tour of the Soviet Union. For those who didn’t live through that time, it may be impossible to understand how significant this was. She was full of grace and kindness; she was authentically, sincerely good. Americans and Soviets alike were riveted by this beautiful girl and her simple message of open-heartedness and peace.

In December of that year, Samantha gave a speech in Japan at the Children’s International Symposium on the Year 2001. She wished for something she called the International Granddaughter Exchange, where the highest political leaders all over the world would send their grandchildren or nieces and nephews to live for two weeks in the homes of their biggest international rivals. She believed that if we did this, then the year 2001—when Samantha and I would turn 29—could be “the year when all of us can look around and see only friends, no opposite nations, no enemies, and no bombs.”

I believe that Samantha’s life, though cut short by that plane crash in 1985, made an immeasurable difference, and I have always believed that if she had lived to adulthood, she would have continued to steer us on a much-needed course toward world peace. Today, when I am 40 years old and she is 27 years gone, I find I have not forgotten her actions, or her words, or the fiery spark of faith she kept alive in me—faith in peace, faith in my fellow human beings, faith in the power of little girls to make a difference.

The author in 1982

My niece, who was born and raised in a small town in Maine just like Samantha and I, is now only a few months shy of the age when Samantha and I wrote our letters to President Reagan and Premier Adropov. Samantha and I lived in fear that there would be a nuclear war—and we, along with so many kids in our generation—did not see the sense in this. So much has changed since then—thanks, I believe, in part because of Samantha—that today my niece said these words to me: “What’s a nuclear bomb?”

She asked because I had been watching a documentary on World War II before she arrived, and a black-and-white image of soldiers was freeze-framed on my TV when I paused it. “Is that war?” she asked. And we talked about World War II, about the Soviet Union, and about nuclear bombs. She had never heard of any of those things.

In just one generation, we went from little girls in Maine trying to stop a nuclear attack by reaching out to world leaders, to little girls in Maine having absolutely no idea that any of that was ever necessary.

On the one hand (as a child of the 80s I feel free to say), that’s totally awesome. We have changed the world so much that not only is my niece not afraid of a nuclear war, she’s never even heard of a nuclear bomb.

On the other hand, I can’t help but think that something has been lost if Bucksport’s fourth-graders aren’t more aware of what came before them. I imagine they’ll get to it, eventually...

And, in the meantime, I will continue to wish the wish of my generation, expressed by our young ambassador, Samantha Smith: that we might look around the world and see only friends—and not because we have eradicated those who are unfriendly, but because we have made the effort to understand and to be understood by those who might otherwise be our mortal enemies.

I am not a high political leader, and I don’t have any grandchildren, but if anyone wants to trade nieces for a couple of weeks, I will welcome yours with all the warmth and friendliness that a girl from Maine has to offer--and if you knew Samantha Smith, then you know…that’s no small thing.

With my niece at my 40th birthday party

Tales from Rural Maine: Inauguration Day

There are some serious downsides to small-town life--they are numerous and they are onerous--but among the gifts are the following, all of which I received today:

A high school friend dropped by with dinner for me and Pete, just because she loves us; she was making a meal for someone else we love whose father is ill, so she made us something, too, and dropped it at our door;

my neighbor and I teamed up to get an injured stray cat who hangs out in our yards neutered and healed up; he was hit by a car a month ago and developed a necrotic tail; I don’t even know my neighbor’s last name, but I loaned her a cat carrier; and when she rang the bell at 7am—it was 10 degrees outside—and told me she’d managed to catch our stray, I called the vet, put on my clothes and drove our little friend to Orrington, 15 minutes away; 

all of the techs at my vet's office were happy to see me and chatted like we were pals on both my visits there today; 

my dad picked me up at the garage in Bucksport and then drove me to Orrington and back to pick up the aforementioned cat ("Batty") because my car was having trouble and I felt nervous about taking it to back to Orrington in this cold with a kitty fresh from surgery in my care; he dropped what he was doing and came, happily, to help; 

the guy at the garage--who is also a farmer--greeted me by name with a smile and kept me company while I waited for my dad, during which time I actually learned a lot of interesting stuff about cows; 

my pre-school teacher wrote me a beautiful, compassionate e-mail because she knew the poem at the inauguration would have  made me cry; she was right; it all made me cry; I even cried when they introduced, "Secretary of State, Hillary Clinton"; I felt the extraordinary progress of women in that moment and my heart sang for the suffering and triumph it signified; thank you Lucy Stone; thank you Elizabeth Cady Stanton; thank you Seneca Falls; and while we’re at it, thank you Myrlie Evers-Williams.

My pre-school teacher is a poet, so she understands a lot about how the world feels to me, how beauty cracks me open and progress makes me weep; how justice and equality lift me so high my wings sprout wings; and even though I've only seen this teacher/poet once since 1977, she wrote to me today because she loves my heart, always has done, and she knew we were together in our tears for beauty today.

In the midst of cold and darkness; in the midst of strife and lack; in the midst of all the things that are small in the not-good way about life in this particular town, it is the gratitude that fills me up.

I teach my students that we all have "armadillo magic.” We can build a strong physical and energetic armor to protect us, to free us to have boldly tender hearts.

To every person in my life who ever said I was too sensitive--and you are legion--I say to you now, from behind my armadillo skin (my own Declaration of Independence, my own invocation and benediction, my own anthem, my own inauguration speech): You are wrong. 

You may see my gifts as flaws, and for almost all of my life, I did, too; I believed you when you said those things. But I am a teacher now and a healer. I am forty and you can’t fool me anymore.

And if you don’t believe me, there is a poet here in Maine who has known me since before I could write the poetry that is my own name, and she (and my sweetheart and my students) will stand with me, I am certain, when I say, again, you are so very wrong. 

Little me, at New Alderbrook pre-school, 1975.

Tales from Rural Maine: "Question 1"

Earlier this year, Maine legislators took the admirable step of granting equal marriage rights to all Mainers, including same-sex couples. The governor signed the legislation into law and ever since the spring, it has been legal for any two adults to marry in this state, should they choose to. The governor, who once spoke out in favor of civil unions instead of true marriage, says he signed the law because he came to realize that separate is inherently unequal. He is now an advocate for equal marriage rights (bless him).

Unfortunately, shortly after the new law was passed, some Mainers gathered signatures to create a ballot initiative similar to California's tragic Proposition 8, which took marriage rights away. Tomorrow, Mainers will go to the polls to decide the issue.

I moved back to Maine this year in part because of this law. I might like to get married someday soon, but as a bisexual citizen and native Mainer who happens to have a male partner, I feel that any law which denies civil rights to lesbians or gays denies them to me, as well. For this reason, I take the No on 1 campaign personally (as with Californa, a No vote means yes, gays can marry) and it's been deeply upsetting to see Yes on 1 signs sprout up all around me. I have at least one friend and, I suspect, at least two close family members who will be voting to deny me my right to marry tomorrow. This hurts. It hurts so much that I decided not to engage with them about it. Will they have a revelation, as the governor did, before tomorrow and either vote No or abstain? I hope so. Could I have persuaded them by engaging in debate? Definitely not. So, I've left them and their consciences to it.

While for me, the denial of marriage rights is personal, for my straight friends, there is no reason they should be compelled to vote No--no reason, apart from a passionate commitment to equality, freedom, and American values. I have been profoundly moved by the fire with which my straight, married and unmarried friends have fought on behalf of my minority. (For the record, I would have rather been a lesbian, but I had no choice in the matter. You love who you love and there it is.)

We, the not-heterosexual people, cannot attain equality without the consent of the majority. We cannot be equal unless enough people who aren't like us believe this to be so. Fortunately, amazingly, almost all of my straight friends get downright furious when they even think about Yes voters. And I love them so much for this fury. This fury is love, it is fairness, it is the good fight. And no matter what happens tomorrow, I am buoyed by this love and righteousness.

I am also moved by the continuous stream of unexpected No voters. One straight, married friend's dad, an elderly man with conservative views, for instance. He is legally blind, so my friend was tasked with doing his voting for him. She was very tempted to vote No for him--he'd never know!--but of course, she would never actually do such a thing. She had to make her peace with the act of ticking that Yes box for her father.

When the day came (he voted early) she read him the question. Then she read it to him again. After one more time, he gave it some thought and then he said, "I think I'll vote No. Let's give them a chance."

As much ugliness has risen up around Question 1--a great many No on 1 signs in our town have been found flattened with tire treads embedded in them, for instance--there is also this beauty. For every neighbor who stakes a Yes on 1 sign in her yard, there is someone like my friend's dad who says, "Let's give them a chance."

In the picture (above), my first girlfriend (a native Mainer) and her fiancee (whose Mom lives in Maine) stand in Bucksport with me and my sweetheart, Peter. We are all created equal and endowed by our creator with certain inalienable rights. Among those rights are life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. While some joke that marriage is not happiness, we would all like a chance to try. If you agree we have that right, please vote NO tomorrow on Question 1 and urge your friends and loved ones to join you at the polls.

This content is copyrighted. If you are reading it on Facebook, it was imported from my blog at Graychase.com. View the original here: http://tinyurl.com/yg8ruhy

It's Time to Go Back to the Future

In Sean Penn's acceptance speech at the Oscars this year, he said, "I think that it is a good time for those who voted for the ban against gay marriage to sit and reflect and anticipate their great shame and the shame in their grandchildren's eyes if they continue that way of support. We've got to have equal rights for everyone."

Hear, hear.

Mr. Penn got a rousing round of applause and whistles from his audience.

I found this part of his speech to be particularly moving and memorable because it asks us to step outside the time and place in which we are immersed; it asks us to move away for a moment and to see with the help of the light shining back at us from the future; and because it asks us to remember the world our grandchildren will live in. I say "remember" not "imagine" (while Penn says "anticipate") because... we have been there already. We are all someone's grandchildren. We are all now arriving in what was once someone else's far-off future. That distant, futuristic time when black men could be President and the Red Sox could win the World Series. It's crazy, right? Except that it happened. Just like men on the moon and women on the Supreme Court. It really did happen.

Penn's speech reminded me of something I wrote in my journal about a month before the Academy Awards, just a few days after President Obama was inaugurated. I share it with you now, on the first night after the California Supreme Court heard arguments regarding the legality of Prop. 8, because I, too, hope that those who object to equal rights for everyone will, as Penn says, sit and reflect and anticipate the future--and then make the brave choice to open their minds in the way that suffragists did; to trust that even if your religious faith or your personal preference mean that you do not approve of gay marriage, that you will stand on the side of democracy, equality, the Constitution, and human kindness, just as abolitionists (and every civil rights advocate ever) did.

Here's what I wrote:

"If you think you are one of the people who--if transported back in time--would stand up for the things you know to be right; if you think you would fight for women's suffrage or to free the slaves or to stop the war in Vietnam; if you think you would protect child workers or poor immigrants or sharecroppers; if you think you would stop the Holocaust, or register black voters, or desegregate schools, or refuse to give up your seat on the bus--then I'm telling you: your time is now.

If you were to travel back in time and be given the chance to end discrimination, fight for freedom, or foster peace, what makes you think you would not tell yourself the same things you tell yourself now: that you are too busy; that it is too soon; that you cannot afford it; that someone else will do it?

What makes you think that you would not go back in time and worry more about whether you looked cool, fit in, or earned enough money? What makes you think you would not obsess about your weight/your love life/your job/or some celebrity's divorce/relationship/plastic surgery/wardrobe/weight gain or loss?

What makes you think you would not just watch TV and buy a house and work to pay your mortgage?

To us, looking back, it is obvious that slavery should end, the states should be united, people of color, poor people, and women should all be allowed to vote, hold office, become doctors or teachers. To us, looking back, it is obvious that blacks and whites could--and should--drink from the same fountains, attend the same schools, and sit wherever they like on busses. (Ditto recycling, wheelchair ramps, accessible bathrooms, and female athletes.)

But to the people of those times, it took vision, determination, and courage. It took imprisonment and hunger strikes and a war time resolution to finally get women the vote. It took even more than that to get it for black women. It even took more than what President Obama likes to call "hope."

To the people 40 years from now, we are 1969. You have traveled back in time from then and you can spark the change that your future self believes in. If you stood up for Barack Obama; if you elected the first black American President, then don't sit down yet. Stand up until a woman President is elected. Stand up until there is more than one black Senator. Stand up to protect a woman's right to make her own healthy, well-informed, reproductive choices. Stand up until the health care system is fixed. Stand up until corporations are treated like businesses (not people) and held acocuntable as such under the law. Stand up until tax dollars are spent responsibly. Stand up until there is an equal rights amendment. And, for the love of God--or if you prefer, for the love of democracy--stand up for same-sex marriage and family rights.

Whatever your religious or personal objections might be to same-sex marriages and families, those same things were said about blacks in the 40s and 50s and 60s, about women in the 1860s and 70s and 80s (and on...), and about Asians, Jews, immigrants, Catholics, Native Americans...

You can't go back to 1969 and tell everyone what their new President is about to do; you can't join the protesters who were trying to stop the war; you can't convince Robert McNamara that later on he'll regret it; you can't be there to help at Stonewall; you can't save Mary Jo Kopechne or Sharon Tate or the civilians at My Lai; you can't watch the first men land on the moon or attend Woodstock; and you can't stop AIDS.

But you do have a chance to travel back in time from 2049 to 2009, to the difficult and magical days just after the first African-American President was elected in this country; a time when the world found itself facing a nearly unprecedented financial crisis brought on and perpetuated by corporate greed, bureaucratic apathy, a bloated and distracted government, and a confused and overmatched electorate. The system is broken. This is an opportunity for change. You have a chance to go back to the future. So what will you do?"

In Defense of Marriage--For All

On Tuesday, three states passed propositions that would limit the rights of same-sex couples to marry. The next day, at my Facebook page, I posted a status that said, "Naomi is exhausted and sad."

My friend Elizabeth asked, "why sad?"

And I responded thusly: "I'm sad because there are still so many people determined to deny others the right to marry. three states yesterday...and because bigotry makes my heart ache. And because someone blew up a predominantly black church near here this morning. And because, truth be told, I really, really, really wanted to be celebrating the first woman President today, and while I threw my full support behind Obama--and am humbled and proud and full of respect for the progress we've made as a nation in electing him--I ache with a longing so profound I can barely articulate it for the day when this same sense of victory and equality will be shared by women."

I also changed my profile picture to the one you see above and joined a couple of Facebook groups that are rallying to repeal Prop 8 in California. The California proposition was especially upsetting because I used to call California home, and because two of my best friends were married there this summer, only to now experience the devastating news that their marriage vows may be rendered invalid.

And here's the beauty of Facebook. I was able to feel less alone in my grief and upset. I received coomfort from friends and was also able to offer it to others. And I also received this note from a high school friend that I enjoy connecting with on Facebook, but who I haven't seen in more than a decade.

She identifies as "moderate/conservative--purple," Christian, and is married with a young child. She wrote today to ask me this:

"enlighten me please....why is it okay for homosexuals to reject christianity and our God, which is where marriage gets its origin, but it's called bigotry or discrimination for christians to ask that they establish civil unions for their relationships instead of marriages (which is a christian institution)? if we are to respect all people equally, does that not go both ways? i'm not saying that their relationships should have any less legal standing, they should have rights too, as everyone should, but if they so reject the premise of marriage, which is between a man and a woman according to God and christian principles, why do they so crave to have their union referred to as a marriage, not a legal union.

i'm not trying to sound mean or better then anyone, i'm legitmately asking a question from someone whom i respect and believe is more enlightened then i am on the subject. thanks naomi."

I am sharing my response to my friend here, and welcome your comments--and also encourage the sharing of my response with others. Forward along, if you see fit.

Here is what I told her (my response was so long I had to break it into parts in order to send it through Facebook):

"I am so glad you asked...

I think the answer to your question lies in our understanding of what marriage is.

You are defining marriage as being “between a man and a woman according to God and Christian principles,” but, while that may be true in your church and for you personally, it’s not actually true universally and should not be a lawful definition of marriage under civil law. Would you say to a Jewish couple that their marriage is invalid because it was not made according to Christian principles? Certainly not. (I hope not, anyway!)

I understand your attachment to the definition of marriage as being according to God and Christian principles—it’s very important to you--but marriage pre-dates Christianity and it also exists in myriad valid forms outside Christendom. Thousands of people get married every day, all over the world—and in our own country—in faiths other than Christianity and their marriages are still “marriages” despite not having a single wit to do with Christian principles. If a Buddhist couple in Japan or a Muslim couple in Afghanistan or a Jewish couple in Israel or a pagan couple in Ireland or a Hindu couple in India or a couple of secular yahoos in England (or California, for that matter) get married, they definitely do not define their union as being according to “God and Christian principles,” but those marriages would all be recognized as marriages in the United States.

Just as being married—and calling it that--is incredibly important to you, it’s equally important to non-Christian and same-sex couples who may hold different definitions dear to them, based on their personal or religious beliefs. How would you feel if you couldn’t call your husband your husband any more because some other religious group said so? (You’d feel frustrated, dismayed, angry, and awful, I expect—and rightly so.)

Giving same-sex marriages a different word is exactly the same as giving black Americans separate train cars, schools, and water fountains. To give it another name is to make it less-than, separate—and as Barack Obama (and the Supreme Court) will tell you in a heartbeat—separate is inherently unequal.

A different path

There are, essentially, two kinds of marriage, religious and civil. At issue here is only the legal contract of a civil marriage, as recognized by individual states, not the religious ceremony. (The Defense of Marriage Act prevents same-sex marriages from being acknowledged across state borders, so for the purposes of our discussion today, the issue is at the state level.)

The two kinds of marriage, religious and civil, often overlap one another—most Americans do both--but they are two separate and distinct events. One happens in a church, synagogue, or other sacred venue; the other happens at city hall (or wherever you file your marriage license). They are related, but they are not the same thing. For instance, it’s the civil marriage that you have to break when you divorce, not the religious one. (That’s why you need a lawyer.)

What same-sex couples are seeking is equal treatment under the law. They want to legally marry, not according to God and Christian principles, but according to a lawful civil definition of marriage.

There, but for grace

You, as a Christian, understand marriage to be one thing. You have a strong and clear belief about what marriage means in your faith, but each faith sets its own parameters for what marriage is and what it means.

Your idea is vastly different from my Mormon friends who were sealed in a private ceremony in a temple for all eternity. And it is also different from my Jewish friends, my Jehovah’s Witness friends, my Buddhist friends, my non-religious friends, my Wiccan or pagan friends, and even from some of my other Christian friends—the Unitarian Universalists, for instance. In some faiths, marriages are arranged. In some, there need not be witnesses. In others, a dowry is still required. Because there are so many different forms of marriage based on faith, it is not fair—or legal, in my opinion—for any one religious group to control what marriage (or any other religious practice) means to other religious or non-religious groups. Just as a church has a right to baptize its members by dipping them in a river instead of anointing them with oil or holy water (or whatever other form they find sacred) at whatever age they feel is appropriate, if a religion wants to allow same-sex marriages, then that is its right; if it doesn’t, then that is its right, as well. But when it comes to rights granted by the states, those should absolutely not be dependent upon one religious group’s interpretation of the right.

When I had a Jewish girlfriend, for instance, I could not have married her in her temple—not because I was a woman, but because I’m not Jewish. No one is trying to pass a law saying that Rabbis have to marry non-Jews in temple—nor, for that matter, that they have to marry same-sex couples. That’s entirely up to them. Decisions about religious marriage belong in the faiths; decisions about legal contracts of marriage belong with the states (or, I would argue, at the federal level, but again, that point is moot for now).

To have and to hold

What is particularly egregious about the Prop 8 situation in California is that opponents of same-sex marriage, motivated by religious doctrine, voted to amend the state’s constitution in order to explicitly deny the right to marry for same-sex couples. The U.S. Constitution and the state constitutions are documents designed to grant rights, not take them away. It sets a dangerous and disturbing precedent to use the Constitution to single out a group of people and deny them a civil right based solely on one religion’s interpretation of marriage.

The First Amendment was designed to prohibit the establishment of a national religion, or the preference of one religion over another, or the preference of religion over non-religion. To use a religious definition for state marriage contracts is to impose one religious view on the populous, flying in the face of what is arguably the most important tenet of our entire society (along with freedoms of speech, press, and assembly).

If you don’t believe your church should marry same-sex couples, then I would argue that’s a battle to fight in your congregation or with the leaders of your faith, not something that should happen at the constitutional level.

We are all granted by our beautiful, necessary, incredible Constitution the right to practice our faiths freely. In fact, it’s so important that it’s the very first line of the very First Amendment. This is true not just for marriage-related rituals, but for all sorts of other things as well. My Mormon friends don’t baptize their children until the age of eight, for instance, and are forbidden from drinking hot beverages or alcohol. I assume that you baptized your child sometime shortly after she was born and perhaps, if you are Catholic, she will have a confirmation—or if you’re not, she won’t.

I think to get a good view of the issue, if one is in the majority religion (as you are), one has to try to take a big step back from one’s religious beliefs, take a deep breath, and then imagine what life would be like if one were in the minority. What if, for instance, Mormonism were the dominant religion in our country? It is, after all, the fastest growing religion in the world and it spent a reported $22 million backing Prop 8 in California. What if, after marriage, leaders of this religion moved on to amend the Constitution of your state to ban alcohol (we tried this once, remember, and it was the origin of organized crime) or to ban coffee (egad!) or to remove the right to baptize a child within its first year of life, etc.? What if this were about requiring or banning circumcision?

I assume this would bother you. And it should bother you. At its center, the United States is a place where we should be able to live free from religious oppression. It is the very thing the pilgrims came seeking when they fled; it is part of what we will celebrate on Thanksgiving. (And, it’s what the ancestors of my beloved Mormon friends were seeking when they fled violence and persecution to go west and eventually create a safe haven for themselves in Salt Lake. Unfortunate that now this church is apparently leading a movement to oppress others…)

Religious freedom is an essential part of what makes our country great. Separation of church and state means that if you want marry in your church, whatever wacky church that might be, then “mazel tov!” The state won’t stop you. So, why should the church be able to say to the state, “No way, no how, you can’t ‘marry’ unless you do it our way”?

I believe that every adult has a right to make a loving commitment to another consenting adult to join their lives and finances together as spouses and to make a family, if they so choose--and to call this marriage. Remember, it used to be illegal for a black person and a white person to be wed, but now we acknowledge that those people have a right to marry—regardless of their faith. I believe same-sex couples are entitled to this same basic human right.

For me, it’s not about homosexuality. I would be just as sad today if someone from another faith were preventing you from legally wedding your husband; I would fight for your right to marry, too.

What is at issue here is that people—of any gender—who wish to marry should have the right to do so, even if it offends or upsets members of certain religious groups. Same-sex couples seeking a legal marriage are not “rejecting Christianity and your God” as you say. They are trying to embrace a life of romantic and social commitment. As difficult as it may be to let go of your religious perspective, this is a civil rights issue, not a religious issue. The voters are not trying to amend your church’s canon; they are trying to amend a state’s constitution. And this is wrong.

I welcome your feedback and hope I’ve answered your question. :-)>>

I haven't heard back from my friend yet, but what I love about this is that she respected me enough to ask--and I care for and respect her enough to answer. I hope that my respect came through in my response.

As President-elect Obama says, "I will listen, especially when we disagree."

On whichever side of this issue you stand, I hope that you will really and truly open your ears and your heart and listen to the voice of the other side--and speak with respect in return. It is my great hope that you will come to stand on the side of tolerance and human rights and equality. But, whether or not you do, the Obama Presidency is not just about an African-American family in the White House; it's not just about ending war in Iraq or helping the middle class or resolving our economic crisis. It's about this great, intangible thing that he articulated on election night. It's about becoming a new America--a United States of America--where we can achieve change; where we can be honest, even when it's difficult; and where we can listen, especially when we disagree.