In 1979, before I could start to volunteer for my Thursday 11 pm-7 am shifts with “Contact Richmond”, (a dial-in phone counseling service in the basement of a presbyterian church near my presbyterian seminary),  I had to go through six weeks of training. Twelve of us were introduced to active listening, empathy vs sympathy, our goals, our limitations, family issues, mental illnesses and drug treatments, families, sexual assault, suicide, alcohol and drug abuse, homosexuality, and many resources to help.

The lesson on people who would call because they are struggling with issues surrounding their sexual orientation was taught by a gay elder in that church. He had been a church member for decades, and a few years earlier became open to his church about being gay. He had a 41-year committed relationship with the love of his life which he kept a secret for 40 years — until his retirement. 

In the good ole days there were no anti-discrimination laws against gays in the capital of the confederacy. It was legal for his landlords and employers to persecute him based solely on who he was, so he daily feared the loss of his home and his job. I thought, “he’s been forced to keep the most important relationship in his life a secret since World War II, for twice as long as I’ve been alive!”

He predicted what came to be: I got a lot of calls from gay and lesbian teenagers and young adults struggling with how to tell their families the truth about themselves. I was glad to be given some resources to help them. One resource he gave me to help me was to try an experiment.

He gave me a big book with the title “Am I Gay?” in letters as large as the National Enquirer headlines about alien abductions. Per his suggestion, I displayed the book as I openly walked around the Richmond Mall one Saturday afternoon — to experience strangers’ reactions. My friend walked further behind me to report on the comments people didn’t want me to hear. Suffice it to say, he wasn’t willing to switch roles with me. I was naive enough for it to never occur to me that my experiment could have been fatal.

At 22, that was the longest I had talked to anyone I knew was gay about his life. I wondered how he could accept me, as I grew to accept him. A year later, when I was leading the training I had taken, I was glad he could still help “Contact Richmond”, because I enjoyed his company, and because callers needed our compassion.

How has a personal relationship transformed your view about a category of “an other”? When have you tried to walk in others’ moccasins to see life from their perspective? If you know any stories about Jesus of Nazareth, how did Jesus break down social and religious barriers with compassion and love?