Marrying Gays When It Wasn't Cool

Decades before same-sex marriage became legal, the Reverand Jim Lewis of Charleston, West Virginia, sparked outrage by blessing the unions of gay men and lesbians. 

From West Virginia Public Broadcasting, this is “Us & Them” the podcast where we tell stories from America’s cultural divides.

Subscribe to “Us & Them” on iTunes or however you listen to podcasts.An edited version of “Us & Them” airs bi-weekly on West Virginia Public Broadcasting’s radio network, and the full version is available at wvpublic.org/podcast.

Share your opinions with us about these issues, and let us know what you’d like us to discuss in the future. Send a tweet to @usthempodcast or @wvpublic, or reach us on the feedback page at usandthempodcast.com.

And if you enjoyed this episode, join our community and sustain “Us & Them” with a pledge of support

Trey & Alice

A blue state secular liberal and a red state Christian conservative have an unlikely friendship

From West Virginia Public Broadcasting, this is “Us & Them” the podcast where we tell stories from America’s cultural divides.

Subscribe to “Us & Them” on iTunes or however you listen to podcasts.An edited version of “Us & Them” airs bi-weekly on West Virginia Public Broadcasting’s radio network, and the full version is available at wvpublic.org/podcast.

Share your opinions with us about these issues, and let us know what you’d like us to discuss in the future. Send a tweet to @usthempodcast or @wvpublic, or reach us on the feedback page at usandthempodcast.com.

And if you enjoyed this episode, join our community and sustain “Us & Them” with a pledge of support

Revisiting the Grand Palace

Americans’ attitudes toward gay relationships have changed dramatically in a short time. Host Trey Kay returns to his home state of West Virginia to see how this change is playing out in a state where 53 percent of residents believe the Bible is the literal word of God.

From West Virginia Public Broadcasting, this is “Us & Them” the podcast where we tell stories from America’s cultural divides.

Subscribe to “Us & Them” on iTunes or however you listen to podcasts.An edited version of “Us & Them” airs bi-weekly on West Virginia Public Broadcasting’s radio network, and the full version is available at wvpublic.org/podcast.

Share your opinions with us about these issues, and let us know what you’d like us to discuss in the future. Send a tweet to @usthempodcast or @wvpublic, or reach us on the feedback page at usandthempodcast.com.

And if you enjoyed this episode, join our community and sustain “Us & Them” with a pledge of support

Us & Them: Can We Bridge the Cultural Divide?

This article was originally published in the Sunday Gazette-Mail.

One night in the mid 90s, my wife and I were watching a PBS documentary series called “With God On Our Side: The Rise of The Religious Right In America.”

It featured a segment about how religious conservatives had tried to get “multicultural” textbooks banned in Kanawha County in the 1970s, back when I was in junior high school there.

The show included a woman named Alice Moore. I remembered her. She was a conservative preacher’s wife who’d led the fight against the books.

I told my wife, “This woman is crazy. Wait until you hear what she thinks.”

Alice shared her views, but to my surprise, what she said didn’t seem as nutty as I’d remembered.  I didn’t agree with her assertion that God was being taken out of the public schools. But I felt for her.

The Kanawha textbook struggle happened a little more than a decade after the U.S. Supreme Court banned organized prayer and Bible readings from public schools. Although I support those rulings, I could understand why Alice was troubled.  Thinking about this, I had an “Aha” moment:

“Alice believes her core beliefs are under attack.  I have core beliefs.  What if I truly felt that they were under attack?”

That epiphany would eventually define my work. 

In 2009, I produced a radio documentary where I tried to understand what was upsetting my Kanawha neighbors back in 1974.  I interviewed Alice Moore for this program, and a funny thing happened. We got to be friends.

Credit Current.org
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Trey Kay receiving the DuPont Award

Often, I ring her up on the phone and we engage like diplomats from Red and Blue America who’ve exited their echo chambers for a respectful, spirited dialogue.  I disagree with Alice’s views on the role of religion in our society, the virtues of Reagan conservatism and whether or not President Obama is a communist Muslim who was born in Kenya.

Sometimes, she really makes me mad.  Sometimes, she says I break her heart because she thinks I’m so lost and confused.

But the person I disagree with is truly “Sweet Alice” – a kind person, who has a warm and welcoming family.  The first time I visited her home in Tennessee, her 90-year-old mother baked me an apple pie.  Alice seems to sincerely care about me and my family and friends. It’s hard to write off someone I have so much affection for as a “conservative Christian nut.”

I imagine that her friends warn her about her Yankee friend, who was indoctrinated in northeast liberal institutions, but I hope Alice sees me as more than a caricature. 

I think conversations like Alice’s and mine are important. I don’t think I’ll ever agree with her, but I want to understand why she feels the way she does.

A recent Pew study found that Americans are more polarized than ever ideologically. It found that 36 percent of Republicans and 27 percent of Democrats actually see the other party as a threat to the country’s wellbeing. Reuters recently reported that Republicans see President Obama as a bigger threat than Vladimir Putin or Syrian President Bashar al-Assad.

People on one side of the political divide fear the people on the other side.

Perhaps we would fear each other less if we knew each other better.

My new podcast, “Us & Them,” will feature stories from West Virginia and other parts of the nation about people’s passionate views on either side of the cultural divide.

The idea is not to change anyone’s mind. It’s to find out what might happen if we take the time to listen to each other.

Trey Kay’s “Us & Them” is produced with West Virginia Public Broadcasting, and with support from the West Virginia Humanities Council.

A first listen party for the podcast will be hosted at Kin Ship Goods in Charleston on April 28 at 7 p.m., in advance of the public premiere.

Those interested in attending the first listen party can RSVP on our Splash That event page.

Rev. Jim Lewis Sees Remarkable Social Change in W. Va.

For decades, the Reverend Jim Lewis has been making headlines in Charleston. He’s an outspoken progressive in a conservative state. He’s known for his efforts to help poor people and his fights against racial injustice — and for his support for gay families. This weekend, Lewis received a Faith Leadership Award from Fairness West Virginia, a group that promotes LGBT rights. He spoke with producer Trey Kay.

Trey Kay: Reverend Jim Lewis came to Charleston in 1974, to be rector of St. John’s Episcopal Church. He wanted the church to have an open door policy – to be a sanctuary. And he says gay people began coming to him, looking for that sanctuary:

Jim Lewis: They wanted a place where they could sit and talk. The guy that came to me was a speechwriter for the governor, he was playing the folk mass at the Catholic church, he knew that if he came out, he would lose both those positions. He wouldn’t be playing the guitar anymore at the Catholic church. He wouldn’t be writing speech writing for the governor. That was the 70s,  wouldn’t have happened! And they had their own personal problems with one another, way they relate to one another as closeted people and they wanted to talk about that in a safe setting, and so the church provided that safe setting.

Trey Kay: Did you just give them a room, and then they went in there and talked, or did you sit and talk with them?

Jim Lewis: Well, I gave them a room — we were giving the room to everybody. This was my ministry, to open up the church doors to everybody, and so sure, come on in. They asked me if I’d sit in on some of the meetings, and I said well, sure, I need to learn, I’d be glad to sit in and I did. So they trusted me and they came to me and then finally, two couples came to me on their own, two women and two men and said they would like me to bless their relationship.

By the way, God could’ve given me an easier situation. The women, one of them had a child. Oooh! The male couple, one of them was white, one of them was black. Could have been easier! It was a challenge.

Trey Kay: What was the problem with the woman with the child and –

Jim Lewis:  Well, the women, in those days, you see, this was in the 70s, gay people weren’t supposed to be trusted around any children. Some of those attitudes are still with us. But remember, in those days, to have a couple, married, two women, and raise a child without a man? This could be very dangerous, and this was not the way God intended. That was the way we were being told by strong religious force in this country.

So I took them in the church, separately, two separate events, and took the service, the marriage service and I revised it in some ways so that it would fit them, and they took the vows, they kissed and then we had a little champagne or something and that was it.

Trey Kay: Lewis says the church’s governing committee was shocked and some of his parishioners were kind of traumatized.

Jim Lewis:  “Are we gonna be able to pay the bills and keep the church open, Jim I know you welcome these people in, but you know we may not have a church here with all these people and with this gay stuff, this might be the end of the world, the sky may be falling in on us here at the church.” This is something, you know, it’s better not to talk about it. It’s better – I phrase it this way – it’s better that we keep this in the closet.

Trey Kay: Lewis says the marriages weren’t legal – the state didn’t allow that back then. But the relationships lasted.

Jim Lewis: As far as I know their relationships went on for a number of years after the blessing. It’s amazing they went on at all. They had to hide. I used to think, you know, I’ve been married to a woman for 55 years. What would it be — I used to think this thought to myself. What would it be if I couldn’t take her to a party, if I couldn’t hold her hand, if I couldn’t kiss her in public. And that’s where we were in the 70s. What a hell of a situation that is. Real hell.

Trey Kay: When I first learned of you as Jim Lewis, when I first learned who you were, you were the guy who married the queers. How did that feel? That was my perception. Did that sting a little bit? How does that feel?

Jim Lewis: Well, whenever you’re called a name, the Christian tradition teaches me this – again, it’s something I had to learn, my feet planted in it – count it as a blessing. You want to call me a lover of queers, I do love queers. Thank you. Thank you. But count it a blessing and understand that they’re calling me that because they don’t understand me. They may not even understand the gospel message if they’re yelling it from the pulpit.

I think there’s a friendly attitude here now about gay people in West Virginia. We certainly have our demons to fight, this is not a progressive battle that it’s over with and now we can celebrate. It’s going to – racism and sexism and classism and militarism they continue to bounce up like demons and we have to fight them when they come up. And so the battle’s not over, but I tell you when I see a headline in the paper that the first gay couple have been married here in this state, the size of that print on the Daily Mail newspaper here which is a fairly conservative paper,  is the same size that you see when a war is over. I mean, the war is over! And you see these big, bold, black letters. I said, “Oh, my God, I never thought I’d see this in my lifetime.” They were ready to hang me back in the 70s, and now I never thought I’d see this kind of change.  It’s been remarkable, remarkable social change.

The Great Textbook War

Charleston native Trey Kay examines the 1974 textbook controversy in the radio documentary, “The Great Textbook War.”

In 1974, Kanawha County was the first battleground in the American culture wars. Controversy erupted over newly-adopted school textbooks. School buildings were hit by dynamite and Molotov cocktails, buses were riddled with bullets, journalists were beaten and surrounding coal mines were shut down by protesting miners.

Textbook opponents believed the books were teaching their children to question their authority, traditional values and the existence of God.

Textbook supporters said children needed to be exposed to a wide variety of beliefs and experiences, and taught to make their own decisions.

To stream the full piece, use the streaming player at the top of the page.

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