Being Outed | John 2

When I was at California Baptist College, I had a lot of colorful friends. As you might expect, the folks I hung out with were some of the most colorful on campus, and the most "rebellious" in the eyes of the fundamentalists. One of the most colorful was a young woman whom for the purposes of this sermon, I will call Sharon.

Now you have to understand that at CBC, there was a culture that dictated how men and women generally dressed. Women feathered their hair and wore tasteful slacks and dresses. The men wore their hair shorter than the general population, and button-down shirts were not unusual. It was casual, but by no means shoddy. Sometimes I had the feeling I was living in some insidious Stepford Wives-style clone factory. Needless to say, my friends and I did what we could to be sure that OUR apparel was sufficiently eccentric; after all we felt it was our responsibility to bring balance and a little life to "the clone factory."

Imagine then my delight when in my second year there the school was all a-buzz about "the punk chick." Sure enough, one of the incoming freshmen, a pastor's daughter, was a certified punk-rocker, complete with ripped jeans, leather jacket with chains hanging off of it and a Mohawk.

This was Sharon, of course, and the first story I heard about her was that as she was standing on a street corner, someone shouted at her from a passing car, "Punk chick!" Without missing a beat, she yelled back, "Person in a car!" I knew from the moment I heard that that Sharon and I would be friends.

She fit right in to our circle. She participated in our poetry readings, helped out with the NO EXIT, our "little-bit-O'-Berkeley" coffeeshop we rebels ran, and even preached when our little band were asked to lead the school in a Chapel service, an event which, I hasten to add, only happened once; although whether that was due to Sharon's preaching or to the kazoo choir I led, nobody is really quite sure.

Unbeknownst to most of us, however, was that Sharon had a secret. And as is the way with secrets, they are very hard to keep. Sharon eventually confided in a friend the sad, scary fact that she, at seventeen years old, was pregnant. Unfortunately for Sharon, the friend she chose to disclose this fact to was unworthy of her trust, and soon the news was all over campus. Sharon, here in this fundamentalist world, was outed as a "fornicator."

Now as shocked and morally outraged as most everyone was on the campus, no one, least of all Sharon, was really prepared for what was to happen next. Sharon was taken aside, and told that she was no longer welcome to live on campus.

We were outraged, of course, and Sharon's academic life might have ended right there and then had not one of our professors stepped in and taken her into her home. Sharon and her baby were a part of our circle then, and not long after I attended my first "punk wedding" when Sharon and her boyfriend were married by the local Unitarian minister.

I thank God for that professor, for who knows what would have become of Sharon if she had allowed herself to be driven from the school by the morality-police? She might actually have become the street-urchin that the pious believed her to be. And what started this whole train of unfortunate events? Sharon confessed a part of her soul in confidence, and she was betrayed. More to the point, she was OUTED.

Now in modern parlance, we generally talk of "outing" someone when they are gay or lesbian and trying to keep the fact under wraps, but in reality, anyone can be "outed" since we all have areas in our lives we are not proud of.

A case in point is the recent "outing" of Republican representatives and congressmen by Hustler mogul Larry Flynt. Certainly these men have areas of their lives that they would rather were not public knowledge, and yet in the most deplorable fashion, their sins are being broadcast to the world as part of a moral witchhunt which has escalated beyond their control and come back to haunt them.

"Outing" in the case of these politicians, in the cases of hundreds of gay and lesbian people, and in the case of my friend Sharon, is a terrible violence perpetrated on ordinary people, who, like you and I are generally good people who make mistakes, and often our mistake is trusting someone else with our secrets.

But the question I would like to put to you this morning is this: is "outing" always inappropriate? Is "outing" always evil? To answer this, I refer you to this morning's Gospel story.

Jesus and his mother are invited to a wedding. And Jesus no doubt complicates the catering by dragging along his disciples. And, not surprisingly, with so many unexpected revelers, the wine runs out early. Jesus' mother, perhaps upbraiding him for putting their hosts in such an awkward position, basically takes him aside and says, "You did this. You fix it."

To which Jesus defensively responds, "What are you talking about? This isn't my responsibility! Besides, I'm not ready to go around 'fixing things'." Despite his protestations, however, Mary does not back down. She turns to the servants and says, "Do what he tells you." She then crosses her arms and glares at Jesus until he puts things right. As we all know, Jesus gives in eventually, and performs his first recorded miracle, the turning of water into wine.

Now in studying this story, we are usually so awed by the miracle, that we miss the family dynamics going on here. There is a power struggle between mother and son, and mother wins. Mary is angry at Jesus for dumping twelve extra people on her friends and making them lose face at not being able to adequately provide for their guests. And Jesus is angry at Mary for "outing" him as a miracle worker.

But was Mary wrong? Should she have kept her mouth shut? Or should she have simply slipped a few denaari to a servant to go fetch some more wine from the market? I don't think so. First of all, if my reading of this text is correct, her actions were appropriate in that she insisted that Jesus take responsibility for his thoughtlessness.

More than that, however, it may be that her actions were appropriate because she believed in Jesus, even if Jesus didn't. It very well may be that Jesus didn't feel ready for fame as a wonderworker. He may even have felt inadequate to the task. He certainly feared something, and that something might very well have been due to his own insecurity. Maybe he wasn't sure he could work miracles; maybe he was scared of assuming the mantle of a prophet. We don't know the source of Jesus' reticence, but we do know this: that in the opinion of his mother, he was ready.

Like the mother bird who knows that it's time for her chicks to fly, Mary pushed Jesus out of the nest, and it was fly or fall; sink or swim. And Jesus, of course, swam; as Mary knew he would.

Is this another form of "outing?" It is. But is it wrong? Maybe; maybe not. It may depend upon the circumstances. But there certainly is, to my way of thinking, a difference between "negative outing" and "positive outing."

"Negative outing" is when we reveal hurtful information about somebody to achieve our own ends, and it is always a form a violence. But "positive outing" on the other hand is when we reveal encouraging or positive information about someone in the interests of their own good.

"Positive outing" is when we reveal that a shy friend is an awesome singer, and compel them, perhaps initially against their will, to perform. This usually ends not in tragedy, but in giving that person opportunity to shine, and adds to their self-esteem and courage. "Positive outing" is when we volunteer a reticent friend to write an article, submit a poem, or preach a sermon. We know in our gut that they can do it. We have an intuition that they SHOULD do it. And even if they didn't know that they could pull it off, they certainly know it after the fact, and everyone is blessed by their attempts, including them.

To be fair, it must be said that "negative outing" does not always end in tragedy. My friend Sharon was awarded the dubious honor of being named "Punk mother of the Year" by a national magazine last year, and today pulls in a six-figure salary brokering communications equipment. So not all was lost. And yet a very great violence was done to her. "Negative outing," while not always tragic, is always wrong.

But positive outing? What if Jesus had been afraid to step up to the plate with this miracles business. Would he ever have felt that it was "his time" if his mother had not pushed him? We don't often think of Jesus as being hen-pecked or overly mothered, but here in this story, it is obvious that mother knew best, and despite his protestations, Jesus was given a chance to shine, and shine he did.

So we have a cautionary tale, and an inspiring one. "Outing" someone can be an act of violence or an act of love. When is it right and when is it wrong? Like most human situations, there are few clear, black-and-white indicators here. "Outing" someone is always a risk, and we always take a chance that revealing our privy information could backfire and cause more harm than good.

I think the key, however, lies in our motivations. Are we revealing this information because we are angry at the person, because we want to hurt them, or because, as in Sharon's case, the secret is just too titillating to keep to ourselves? Perhaps we are revealing because "it's for their own good" and in our piety we have decided that the best disinfectant is to bring something into the light. These kind of motivations are deeply suspect. In fact, they are evil.

But what about when someone we love feels inadequate or insecure about their talents or motivations? Don't we have an obligation to believe in them even if they don't believe in themselves? And when the time is right, don't we have an obligation to "push them out of the nest" so that the world will know--and they will know--that they can fly? Well. That's a harder one to call. Sometimes it is, sometimes it isn't. Was Mary right in what she did, or did the push she gave Jesus eventually lead to the cross? And was that a good thing or a bad thing? There are no easy answers to this question.

I only know that if my wife hadn't pushed me out on a stage and thrust a karoeke microphone in my hand at a recent Christmas party, I wouldn't have brought the house down with my rendition of Harry Nillson's "Without You." And that would have been a tragedy. Let us pray.

God of risk and redemption,
We are always playing with fire
when we take it upon ourselves
to be the wardens of other people's secrets.
Help us to have the wisdom to know
When to speak and when to keep silent,
When to allow each other our privacy,
And when to push our friends out of the nest.
Keep our hearts free of spite and violence,
And let our every actions be guided by love
And compassion, believing in you,
and believing in one another,
even when we don't believe in ourselves.
For we ask this in the name of the one who believes in us,
Even Jesus Christ. Amen.