Another spiritual journey began for Martha Juillerat when she lost her Presbyterian ordination 10 years ago.
She was overwhelmed by the fact that the church she’d grown up loving had taken her life’s work away because she declared she was gay.
Then the stoles started coming in.
The colorful strips of cloth worn over the shoulders of ministers were meant as tokens of support for Juillerat as her story spread across the country.
Some came from openly gay clergy, some came anonymously. Others came from family members of gays and lesbians who had faced discrimination in the church. She received a temple garment from a Mormon man who was excommunicated from a Kentucky church, and a stole from two lesbians who couldn’t find anyone to baptize their 22-month-old.
“I was raised to believe that those who need our love and acceptance will receive that love and acceptance. … But I’ve also seen the worst in the church,” said Juillerat, who lives in Minneapolis and travels with her stoles as a full-time job. “I’ve lived with that stark contrast my whole life.”
She presented her “shower of stoles” Saturday at First United Methodist Church in Boulder, whose sanctuary was bedecked with part of the 1,100-piece collection from 25 church denominations in six countries. About 30 people attended the day’s program.
The Rev. Tamara Boynton told participants she doesn’t believe the Bible should be condensed to bite-size statements about homosexuality.
After citing a verse in Leviticus that says men should not lie with other men, she pointed out that other wrong activities in Leviticus include children who talk back to their parents.
“I think it’s helpful to recognize the complexities,” said Boynton, who works as a minister on the University of Colorado campus. “It’s the miracle of God speaking through the Scripture that you can talk to people who need to be spoken to in a certain way.”
Boulder’s First United Methodist is one of about 500 “reconciling” congregations out of about 40,000 Methodist churches in the country. That means they warmly accept gays to worship, said the Rev. Clair Childress, who co-pastors the church with her husband.
When Julia Moyle and Melissa Vaughn came through the church doors, they didn’t hold hands openly for a year. They both grew up Methodists, but never felt welcomed in a church because of their sexuality.
“It was frightening at first,” said Vaughn, who works with church youth. “But they have made us feel worthy of God’s grace. We’ve been made to feel unworthy before.”
