| I saw on the news today that Matthew
Shepard died. He was the 22 year old man from Wyoming who was beaten and
tortured and left to die for no reason other than he was a homosexual. |
| This tragic murder has raised a national
debate again, the kind of periodic soul-searching our society goes through
whenever a crime of hate startles us into awareness. The burning of Black
churches, the bombing of innocent people, the death of a shy young man from
Wyoming: these events suddenly shake us out of complacency and remind us that
fear, prejudice and rage are always the shadows just beyond the light of our
reason. |
| And so people suddenly start to speak
out. There are voices of outrage and grief. Voices of sorrow and demands to know
why such a thing could happen. And predictably, there are also defensive voices:
the governor of Wyoming trying to explain why his state has no laws to protect
people from hate crimes and the leadership of what is called the Christian
"right wing" trying to explain why their national ads against homosexuality
don't influence people to commit such violence against gays and lesbians. |
| In the days to come, these many voices
will fill our media and the cultural consciousness it imprints until we are once
again lulled into the more familiar patterns of our lives, dozing off as a
nation until the next tragedy rings the alarm of despair. As the chaplain for
our own community, I would like to invite us all to consider Matthew's death in
another way. Not through the clamour or denials, not through the shouts or cries
of anger: but rather, through the silence of his death, the silence of that
young man hanging on his cross of pain alone in the emptiness of a Wyoming
night, the silence that ultimately killed him as surely as the beatings he
endured. |
| Silence killed Matthew Shepard. The
silence of Christians who know that our Scriptures on homosexuality are few and
murky in interpretation and far outweighed by the words of a saviour whose only
comment on human relationships was to call us to never judge but only to love.
The silence of well meaning educated people who pretend to have an enlightened
view of homosexuality while quietly tolerating the abuse of gays and lesbians in
their own communities. The silence of our elected officials who have the
authority to make changes but prefer to count votes. The silence of the majority
of "straight" Americans who shift uncomfortably when confronted by the thought
that gays and lesbians may be no different from themselves, save for the fact
that they are walking targets for bigotry, disrespect, cheap humour, and
apparently, of murder. |
| Crimes of hate may live in shouts of
rage, but they are born in silence. Here at Trinity, I hope we will all listen
to that silence. Before we jump to decry Matthew's senseless death or before we
seek to rationalise it with loud disclaimers: I hope we will just hear the
silence. A young man's heart has ceased to beat. Hear the silence of that awful
truth. It is the silence of death. It is the silence that descends on us like a
shroud. |
| At Trinity, as in Wyoming, we are men
and women surrounded by the silence of our own fear. Our fear of those who are
different. Our fear of being identified with the scapegoat. Our fear of taking
an unpopular position for the sake of those who can not stand alone. Our fear of
social and religious change. Our fear comes in many forms but it always comes
silently. A whispered joke. A glance to look away from the truth. A quick shake
of the head to deny any complicity in the pain of others. These silent acts of
our own fear of homosexuality are acted out on this campus every day just as
they are acted out every day in Wyoming. Through silence, we give ourselves
permission to practice what we pretend to abhor. With silence, we condemn scores
of our neighbours to live in the shadows of hate. In silence, we observe the
suffering of any group of people who have been declared expendable by our
society. |
| As a person of faith, I will listen, as
we all will, to the many voices which will eulogise Matthew Shepard. I will
carry that part of our national shame on my shoulders. But I will also listen to
the silence which speaks much more eloquently still to the truth behind his
death. I will listen and I will remember. And I will renew my resolve never to
allow this silence to have the last word. Not for Matthew. Not for gay men or
lesbian women. Not for any person in our society of any colour or condition who
has been singled out for persecution. Not in my church. Not in my nation. Not in
Wyoming. And not at Trinity College. |
|
|
Matthew's picture
gratefully supplied by
Judy Shepard
( Matthew's Mum)
At
'Matthew's Place'
MATTHEW SHEPHERD FOUNDATION
|
