Gay pastor can keep her collar

Every Sunday the Rev. Katrina D. Foster peeks over the pulpit at the sleepy faces gathered to hear her preach at Fordham Evangelical Lutheran Church in the Bronx. Foster, 41, customizes her sermon for this working class, urban congregation. She condemns the evils of drugs, and talks Bronx politics. She translates scripture into hip parables, bringing the Bible’s ancient world one step closer to that of her flock, which is mostly black and Hispanic.

“We don’t need to go jumping up and down on stage like Kanye to get Jesus’ attention,” Pastor Foster said in a recent Sunday sermon. “Being self-centered is not the way to salvation.”

The stories snap the congregation awake, and a chorus of “uh-huh” and “that’s right, that’s right!” fills the small brick chapel.

Call-and-response sermons might be a better fit for Creston Baptist Church down the street, but her style of preaching isn’t the only way Pastor Foster breaks the Lutheran mold. Foster is a lesbian. Her partner of 13 years, Pamela Kallimanis, sings in the choir. The couple’s lively 7-year-old daughter, Zoia, helps lead the children’s ministry.

Foster has served at Fordham Lutheran since 1994, and she came out to her congregation in 2002. A handful of individuals left, but the congregation threw their pastor a celebratory backyard barbecue to show their support. Foster came out to the Evangelical Lutheran Church of America at its biennial assembly in 2007. That reception wasn’t as warm. At the time the Chicago-based Lutheran Church allowed gays in the ministry, but forbade homosexual clergy from having sex.

Pastor Foster’s lifestyle directly disobeyed Lutheran doctrine, which meant the church could kick her out at a moment’s notice.

All that changed at this year’s Lutheran Church assembly, held Aug17-23 in Minneapolis. Church delegates voted 559-451 to remove the sex ban on gay clergy, and to recognize same-sex unions, a resolution that passed overwhelmingly, 619-408. The decision removed the last hurdle for gay ministers and secured Foster’s place at her church.

“It was as if I had the sword of Damocles hanging above my head,” she said. “And at any moment that sword could fall. And now the sword is gone.”
 
The vote marked a major step for gays hoping for full inclusion within American Protestantism. The United Church of Christ welcomed gay clergy in 1972, and in 2005 recognized same-sex unions. This July, the Episcopal Church also officially opened its doors to gay clergy.

The Evangelical Lutheran Church of America, however, is a much larger institution. The church claims a following of nearly five million Americans, making it the country’s biggest Lutheran organization and fourth-largest Protestant denomination. The ELCA was created in 1988 as a conglomeration of what were then the country’s three primary Lutheran organizations. According to spokesman John Brooks, the church has wrestled with the debate on homosexuality ever since.
 
“We have always recognized that there are very passionate people on both sides of the argument,” Brooks said. “At the Minneapolis assembly people got up on the microphones to discuss their concerns about the topic. It was a civil and respectful discussion, I think, because we’ve been talking about these issues for so long.”
 
The vote, however, has not ended the discussion. Conservative Lutherans denounced the decision shortly after the assembly adjourned, and several ranking leaders called for their districts (called synods) to stop giving funds to the national church. The Pennsylvania-based group called Lutheran CORE called for a convocation on Sept 25-26 in Indianapolis, and voted to split from the ELCA.

The Rev. Mark Chavez, vice president for Lutheran CORE, said the ELCA vote highlights the disconnect between progressive Protestantism and conservative Bible theologians.

“There’s the theory that everyone is welcome in the church just the way they are because God made them that way, and God doesn’t make junk,” Chavez said. “Our working theology is that God loves everyone, but welcoming you into the church means you must change and become a new creation within Jesus Christ.”

Chavez said he’s been flooded with phone calls and emails, and that interest in the meeting was enough to switch venues to a larger church to accommodate more people. The group claimed that 1,200 attended the conference. 

“Our judgment about the church-wide assembly’s decision was that it is placing its authority over God’s word,” Chavez said. “Our goal is to pull together Lutherans who feel that they need to leave the denomination.”

Calls for schism do not sit well with Foster, who, in 2009 became the face of the Gay Lutherans movement when a camera crew documented her life for the film "One Baptism, Many Gifts." The project was produced by Lutherans Concerned/North America, a Lutheran advocacy group that pushes for greater acceptance of gays within the church.

“I’m angry that they think it’s their right to pick up their marbles and walk away,’’ she said “This is the church, it’s not a club. For years, the only people who were thrown out of the church were the gays.”

The Lutheran Church holds no firm count on the number of gays among its clergy, but Foster said she knows at least 11 clergy in the Metro New York synod who are non-celibate gays. For years, she said, she and her peers lived in fear of being defrocked. In 2007 an ELCA disciplinary committee removed the Rev. Bradley Schmeling of Atlanta for his illicit relationship with his partner, Darin Easler, of the United Church of Christ.

“Gay people have always been in the church, but now people know who we are,” Pastor Foster said. “For many people, they feel complete abandonment now. I understand. That’s how gays have always felt. We were the ones getting yelled at about Leviticus and Sodom and Gomorrah from the pulpit.”

As a lifelong Lutheran, Foster said she struggled with her sexuality as a teen, and admitted she fought substance abuse. She said she held aspirations of joining the clergy as a four-year-old, and she worked as an acolyte in her home congregation. In 1989, her third year at Southern Seminary in South Carolina, Foster interned in Washington Heights. She felt drawn to the inner city, and went to the Bronx to work full time in 1992.

“Faith here is a transformative opportunity to save lives this side of heaven,” Foster said. “We have people here who would be dead if it were not for their faith.”

Social problems such as drug use, poverty and violence abound in the Fordham neighborhood. Foster addresses the issues by involving herself in the area’s day-to-day life. She works as a liaison between the neighborhood and the New York Police Department’s 46th Precinct, and helps the community understand police matters. She has faced off with a local drug dealer who slashed the tires of her Saturn and threatened to burn down the church. On two occasions she has chased down burglars who robbed her church, including an incident in 2005 when Foster actually tackled the perpetrator.

“I was so angry I went to punch him in the face, and he moved and I punched the fence,” Foster said. “That was God’s way of saying ‘You don’t get to do this anymore, Katrina.’ ”

Foster also faces pressing issues within her flock.  In late August, a church member’s 18-year-old son was wounded in a drive-by shooting. Less than a week later, a former member of the church’s youth group leapt to her death from atop a nearby apartment building. She was 17.

Through daily visits and prayer, Foster said she works to help her congregation with their daily lives. During the week, Foster walks the streets of her neighborhood doing house calls.

Dyone Torres, a member of the congregation, said Foster was instrumental when she and her husband were struggling in their marriage 10 years ago. “She taught us how we could use faith to reignite our commitment to each other to keep our bond,’’ she said. “We’re going to be together 23 years now.”

Foster said she believes the vote in Minneapolis has not changed her congregation’s attitude toward their spiritual leader. Nor has it changed the way she preaches the word of God. Yes, the underlying fear she once held toward the Lutheran church is gone, but Foster is not stopping to celebrate.

Foster said she’s ready for the Lutheran world at large to see her in the same light as her congregation, which is what she’s always strived for.

“According to a lot of people, I’m the wrong person to do God’s work. I’m a woman and a lesbian,” Foster said. “Jesus was very clear when he said ‘By their fruits, ye shall know them.’ I think if you look at my life and what I do, you will see fruit. I say judge me by that.”