By Emerson Abts / Chronicle contributor
Last April 28, some 75 of us went to the Palace Theatre to view a film. At the entrance we were greeted by perhaps a hundred protesters, most carrying picket signs. (Some estimated that there were two hundred there. They were lining both sides of the street.)
The protest was because we were going to see the film "For the Bible Tells Me So." Its subject was homosexuality, and how various families had dealt with it when a son or daughter would "come out" to them.
Notable was the story of Gene Robinson, now Episcopal Bishop of New Hampshire. He came from a midwestern town, from a Protestant church, the Christian Church, Disciples of Christ. His parents, in the film, describe their reactions when he told the that he was gay.
My personal reaction to the film was that it was rather mild. There were no horror stories, although the account of one daughter's suicide showed the powerful effect on the girl's mother, who had rejected the daughter's gayness but now is a leader in the gay rights movement.
However, my reason for writing this piece has to do with the confrontations outside the theater. I had faced pickets before, and had rather expected this one to be unpleasant if not violent. I saw no police there, prepared to keep the two sides separated.
I heard no screaming; I saw no shaking fists.
When someone caught my eye, I smiled and said hello, and usually the greeting was cordially returned. One man did suggest that I ought to read my Bible. I assured him that I did read the Bible. (I did not boast to him that I have read the Bible, cover to cover, yearly since 1935. I have it marked in portions. I read some Old Testament and some New every morning, as part of our daily devotions. Currently we are reading First Chronicles and the Gospel of John.)
Truly the Bible has told me many things!
Let me contrast our experience at the Palace with one some ten years ago in Louisville. We were attending Central Presbyterian Church there. The Presbyterian General Assembly was meeting there, and the Assembly had just voted to allow their local Sessions to ordain gay men and women as Presbyterian Deacons and Elders.
There were pickets in the street in front of the church. These were not the peaceful protesters that we were to face in front of the Palace. No. These were shouters, vigorously waving their signs or shaking their fists. My wife and I, along with other church members, tried to approach them peaceably. Our extended hands were thrust aside. We were hooted down when we invited them to come in and worship with us.
I was most sincerely assured that I was going to roast in hell.
One shouter seemed approachable. I asked him a question and in all the hubbub and noise I could not hear his answer. I told him that I am deaf and asked him to repeat what he had said. In response he told me that he too was a little deaf. We exchanged a few civil sentences, but I could not persuade him that I was not a poor lost sinner.
We went in to worship and the picketers went away.
The evening in Crossville stands out in marked contrast to that Sunday morning in Louisville. I have much admiration for the people who came in protest but did not stoop to violent speech or action.
As the apostle Paul said, "Let everything be done decently and in order."
