June 25, 1972

San Francisco Sunday Examiner & Chronicle

California Living Magazine

Re1igion

The Ordination Of Bill Johnson

By W. Evan Colder

This evening world-wide church history will be made in the Bay Area. Today is the fifteenth anniversary of the two million-member United Church of Christ, and tonight in San Carlos the UCC’s Golden Gate Association will ordain William Reagan Johnson, an openly declared homosexual, to the Christian ministry. Never before has any major religious group knowingly ordained a homosexual.

Today is also significant in “Gay Lib” history, because it is “Christopher Street Day,” the third commemoration of the “Stonewall Rebellion,” generally acknowledged as the beginning of the Gay Liberation Movement. On June 27, 1969, when police raided the Stonewall Inn, a gay bar on Christopher Street in Greenwich Village, for the first time homosexuals resisted the raid rather than meekly submitting to arrest.

Bill Johnson did not set out to make church history and Gay Lib history on the same occasion, a day already important to both groups. He has simply wanted to be a minister since he was seventeen. (He has known he was homosexual since he was twelve.) As a blond tousled-haired youth in Houston, he and his two brothers were active in the First Evangelical Church, with Johnson being President both of his local youth fellowship and the Christian Youth Council of Houston.

From Houston he went to Elmhurst College in Illinois where, with his sexual orientation no secret, he became active in a service fraternity, a student government leader, and was elected to Omicron Delta Kappa, national leadership honorary, Graduation led to Berkeley California, and Pacific School of Religion, where he arrived ‘convinced that God had called me to the ordained ministry.”

Bill Johnson is part of the new generation of professionals, old enough to have both the training and the maturity for a profession yet youthful enough to have little patience for hypocritical values of older adults, At twenty-six he is a moderately tall, gentle person, yet the firmness of his blue eyes behind rimless glasses belies the soft roundness of his face, He is a man who knows what he is about, and who decided while in seminary to be “up front” with the church about his sexual identity. Consequently at a seminary symposium on homosexuality in November 1970, Bill Johnson voluntarily “came out of his closet” and affirmed that he is gay.

“Persons whom I respect counseled against such honesty,” he explained in his ordination paper. “It would have been much easier — much more expedient — to remain silent, But I do not believe the call to discipleship is a call to expediency. I could not personally, in good conscience, take the vows of ordination without fully affirming who I am.”

In coming out, Bill knew that he risked being denied ordination to the Christian ministry, but his sense of call wag so strong he felt he had no choice, “I am compelled by the power of the Holy Spirit at work in my life,” he declared in his paper. “It is no longer I who have chosen the ordained ministry as a profession. I have been chosen.”

Some churchmen weren’t quite so sure, According to United Church of Christ policy, a request for ordination must originate with a local congregation. Getting the support of the Board of Deacons of the San Carlos Community Church, where he had worked as a student assistant, Johnson then appeared before the Church and Ministry Committee of the denomination’s Northern California Conference. This advisory committee interviewed him twice, found his credentials in order, and found him “well qualified in all aspects of training, theology, experience, etc.”

Nevertheless, the Committee decided in May 1971 by a split vote of ‘4-3 not to recommend him for ordination.

Though disheartened, Johnson decided to appeal to the people, “the people” in this case being the thirty-one congregations of the UCC’s

Religion, continued
‘‘ ‘I could not personally… take the vows of ordination without…affirming who I am’”

Golden Gate Association, stretching along the Pacific coast from Redwood City to Eureka. Since in the United Church of Christ the right to ordain rests with the local association rather than ecclesiastical hierarchy, this was an entirely appropriate step for him to take, although one which Association officers hardly viewed with eagerness.

Like any group caught in a bind, the officers reacted by setting up a committee, or Task Force, whose job was to educate clergy and lay delegates from each church to vote on Bill Johnson’s request for ordination. Unlike many other committees, this one did its work well, planning two all-day sessions on homosexuality and ordination and arranging several evening dialogues between Johnson and small church groups.

In the meantime, Johnson moved to Hollywood, working during the day as a bank teller an ministering evenings and weekends with the “UCC Tentmaker Ministry,” a successful new program for reaching those in the Los Angeles area disillusioned with the church. About once a month he commuted north for meetings.

The first meeting in Belmont in October brought our fifty people to hear two speakers, the Reverend Tom Maurer, a UCC minister working with the National Sex and Drug Forum in San Francisco, and the Reverend Henry Hayden, pastor of San Carlos Community Church.

Tom Maurer is admittedly homosexual, although he only “came out” twenty-six years
after his ordination. As part of his work for the Sex and Drug Forum he interviewed three thousand homosexuals in the Bay Area. As the audience listened in fascination, Maurer listed some popular myths about homosexuals: you can always tell (“I still can’t tell”); they all chase little children (“Statistics show far more heterosexuals involved in child-molesting cases.”); they all hate the opposite sex (“Some of my best friends are women.”); they all like impersonal sex (“Many have lifetime loving relationships.”); and they’re more creative (I’ve known lots of clods.”).

Too many psychiatrists have suggested that all homosexuals are mentally ill, Maurer argued, because those are the only ones they see. “The tragedy is to say that everyone has to be alike, to have the same life style,” he Insisted,

What do homosexuals want?” he asked. “Homosexuals are just like anyone else. We want acceptance as persons. If all homosexuals turned green tomorrow, you’d see your neighbors, mailmen, ministers, kid sisters, best friends, policemen, etc., lighting up like St. Patrick’s Day, And you’d say, ‘Geet they sure seem normal.”

On the same program the Rev. Henry Hayden talked about ordination and some of the historic objections to ordaining a homosexual. “We Protestants have had the Book laid heavily on us, especially St. Paul,” he said. “The Old is Testament rejected homosexuality since it would diminish the number of Israel’s descendants. But today’s situation doesn’t call for ‘descendants as the sand of the sea, which cannot be numbered for multitude.’

“In the New Testament, St. Paul frowned on homosexuality for much the same reasons, and because is was a common practice in the Graeco-Roman culture which he found to be undisciplined and sensual. But today we already reject many of St. Paul’s particularities as inappropriate for our time, for example, his attitude toward women or divorce or slavery.”

During all this discussion, Bill Johnson sat silently in the back of the room, occasionally conferring with members of the Task Force, but mostly listening and watching. This first time around, the debate was dispassionate, the questions objective.

The second meeting in Tiburon in February was more tense. Sixty-five middle-class whites were warned right at the beginning by Association Moderator Bonnie Ploeger of the national fishbowl they were living in. “The vote to take place in April will have its impact in churches all across the country,” she stressed, “not just in this Association or this denomination but in all churches.”

Task Force Chairman Bill Eichhorn, pastor of the Mill Valley Church, followed on a note
of confidence. “Our conversations today affirm our faith in the future,” he said. “We did not invite you here to try to make up your minds for you. That is clearly each person’s own responsibility.”

Following a half-hour sensitizing session and a panel discussion by a psychiatrist, a seminary professor, a parish minister and a gay attorney, the give-and-take began: “Aren’t homosexuals more promiscuous than heterosexuals?” “Can homosexuals be cured?” “If so, is this desirable?” If we ordain this man, won’t it attract more homosexuals to the church?” “Will the church be in the position of hiring a known lawbreaker?” “How can the church offer him job security for forty years?” “How will we present this to our congregations?”

The psychiatrist commented that what causes homosexuality is a wide open question.
“And so,” he added, “is what causes heterosexuality, since all other species of mammals
practice both homosexual and heterosexual behavior. We need to re-examine our categories and our understanding in the light of new data.”

The parish minister rebutted that psychiatrist are divided over the causes of homosexuality, with some feeling that homosexuality is arrested emotional development. “Therefore,” he reasoned, “if there ever was a time in the church when we needed emotionally competent leadership, it is now, and on that basis I would oppose this proposed ordination,”

The seminary professor criticized the idea that homosexuality of itself is sinful, “Sin, or wrongness,” he explained, “is not characterized by any single sexual style. The most crucial factor is the quality of the personal relationship. If a person uses sex as an opportunity to exploit another, that is sinful.”

Reaction from the audience varied, mild and impersonal at first, then hearing up. One retired minister insisted that Bill Johnson’s homosexuality was purely a state of mind which he could change if he wished. “The church is not here to accept people as they are,” he insisted, “The church asks people to change, and I changed, and I’ve seen homosexuals change.”

Response was quick from a woman on the other side of the room, “Something really bothers me there,” she said, “I always thought Jesus accepted people as they were.” “Bill has a great sensitivity toward people,” spoke up someone else, “he’ll make an exceptional minister.” As the argument rose, Bill Johnson bent low in his folding chair in the back of the room, arms folded, head bowed, staring at the tiled floor, many not even knowing that he was present. Which was most crucial in the decision the church had to make, the issue or the individual? “I don’t know a more qualified young man seeking to go into the ministry,” spoke up one woman, a mother of teen-agers in Bill’s youth group. “This thing will tear the churches apart,” opposed another delegate. “We should not put our stamp of approval upon homosexuality.”

Now decision day drew closer, the meeting of the Association-wide Ecclesiastical Council in San Carlos where the vote would be taken. Then, in an unexpected move, the Association set up a “Credentials Committee” to review Bill Johnson’s qualifications. Association Moderator Bonnie Ploeger, a professional parliamentarian, encouraged this action out of her concern to keep the whole procedure so ecclesiastically sound that no matter what the outcome, the process could not be faulted. This five member committee met for-three hours, conversing with Bill Johnson and listening to his paper.

Afterwards they issued a statement affirming Bill Johnson and his current ministry but voting to recommend against his ordination by a split vote of 3-2.

With less than a month to go, wheels began to turn up and down the coast. Delegates to the upcoming Ecclesiastical Council began to receive letters, phone calls, and even magazine reprints from those interested in the issue. One of the most sensitive letters came from the Rev. James Clark Brown, pastor of San Francisco’s First Congregational Church. “I prayerfully petition you as a delegate to consider the untapped and enormous potential for Christ-like ministry which resides within many homosexuality oriented persons,” he wrote. “It is tragic that both they and the church have so long been denied the use of their gifts.”

April 30 was like Easter Sunday outside the San Carlos Community Church, with delegates and visitors lined sip in the sunshine waiting to get in. Inside the church was full, the ninety-six voting delegates in the front pews, with even more visitors toward the back and in the balcony. All UCC ministers “with standing” living in the Association were entitled to vote, whether or not currently working in a local church. In addition, each congregation was allotted a certain number of lay voting delegates, depending upon its size, Altogether nineteen churches sent delegations, for a total of fifty-six lay votes and forty clergy votes.

Religion, continued
“‘Would you be willing to forgo…homosexuality…to accept ordination?’”

Scheduled for three-thirty, the crowded council finally convened twenty-five minutes late. Following the opening hymn and prayer and the negative Credentials Committee report, Bill Johnson began to read his ordination paper. As everyone listened in hushed silence, Johnson traced his religious development from his youth in Houston to his present situation, mentioning his homosexuality briefly and affirming, “I value honesty and integrity.”

Wearing a new, fashionable, modish suit and tie, he read with calmness and conviction. Only toward the end of the thirty-five minutes did the group cough restlessly and shuffle papers as he moved into theology. Then he was finished, and a five-minute break announced before the “open examination” of the candidate began.

The first question was straight to the point. ‘Do you regard homosexuality as a gift from God and a good gift?” The answer was equally precise. “I regard all sexuality as a gift from God and a good gift.” Another questioner asked, “As a homosexual minister, how would you relate to prostitutes?” “I believe that the style of Christ himself gives us that answer,” Johnson replied. Tension began to mount.

Attempting to balance the questions, Conference Minister Dr. Richard Norberg asked what Johnson intended for his future in the ministry. “I remain open to God’s guidance. Anyone who knows me knows that I’m deeply committed to the parish church,” Johnson replied, leaving unsaid what everyone was thinking— what parish church would call him to be their pastor?

“Wouldn’t you be a negative example to young people?” asked someone else. Pointing to the young people in the balcony who joined the church when he worked there, Johnson replied, “I always try to relate to other human beings as I would expect to be related to, not exploiting another human being, not manipulating anyone.”

Then came a bombshell. “Would you be willing to forego the personal pleasures of homosexuality in order to accept ordination?” The congregation gasped aloud, and waited with apprehension. Johnson hesitated. ‘I hear you asking the question of celibacy. Is this it?” “It could be, if the hearer wanted to interpret it that way.” Another pause, then with firmness, “I am asking this Council to recognize and give its blessing upon my call to the ministry, not to affirm homosexuality. My personal conviction is that I cannot do other than have done, to be fully honest, and to approach the altar with integrity.”

With the first round of questions over, someone rose to read a letter from Johnson’s college president who professed that “William Johnson would make a significant contribution to the life of the church.” But the most poignant letter was from Bill Johnson’s mother. “It hasn’t been easy to accept the fact that I have a son who is a homosexual,” she wrote. “But I’d rather have him be honest and happy than
live a lie and be miserable…He has a hard time pretending to be something he isn’t…Ask yourselves, if William hadn’t admitted his homosexuality, wouldn’t you have ordained him already? …I am proud of my son,” the letter finished as the congregation burst into applause.

Quickly Bill Johnson stepped to the microphone. “My mother surprises me all the time,” he quipped, as the audience chuckled. Then the questions continued and the tension
mounted again. About marriage? “I think love between any two people is beautiful, and should be celebrated. I know that two men or two women can share such a love.” What would we expect if we ordain a homosexual, asked one man angrily. “I would hope that you would expect from me the same responsible style of living that you would expect from any person who is ordained to the ministry.” How would he get along without a “ministers wife?” “I think we do a great injustice to women when a church expects to get two for the price of one,” came the answer, to a burst of feminine applause.

With the hint that “Coffee is ready for the non-voting delegates and visitors,” the moment of truth arrived. Visitors exited, the doors were shut, and the secret debate and voting began. Small groups gathered on the lawn, reporters moved toward telephones to report “No story yet,” motorcycles roared past the tense church. Finally, fifty-five minutes after the doors had been shut, they swung open again as a crowd burst out. One young minister, spotting some of Johnson’s supporters, flashed a quick thumbs-up sign. “Two to one,” he grinned, “it’s all over.” Told the news, Johnson was quiet. ‘Not till I hear it from the Council itself,” he said.

That announcement came just minutes later, with the news that he had been approved for ordination by a vote of 62-34, laity voting 35-21 in favor, clergy 27-13. Those who had stayed erupted into wild applause, then gave Bill Johnson a standing ovation as he walked to the pulpit. “I believe in the Holy Spirit,” he began haltingly, “this vote is a statement of faith.” Then he called for those who disagreed with the decision to remain committed to the church.

“I celebrate,” he said, “that today you have given me the opportunity to do the work that I know I do best. God bless you.”

That was eight weeks ago today. Tonight’s ordination marks the end of Bill Johnson’s
nine year road to be ordained as a Christian minister. But even more important, it marks the beginning of a whole new era in the life of the church.