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Recently in Salon Mothers Who Think

The pits
Summertime and the living would be easy -- if women didn't have to shave or wax constantly.
By Mei Yan Leung
[07/28/99]

Slow Fade
In my memories of family vacations, I remember driving my mother's car, naked women and formaldehyde sharks. So why don't I remember my family?
By Lu Vickers
[07/27/99]

The lactating feminist
I'm not a porn star. I'm not burning my bra. I'm just feeding my baby in public.
By Roxanne Beckford Hoge
[07/26/99]

The invisible mother
If everyone is staring at my boobs, why do I feel that I'm disappearing?
By Amy Halloran
[07/26/99]

Tom and Nicole and Colin and Kathryn
"Eyes Wide Shut" provokes literary couple Colin and Kathryn Harrison to spar over marriage, passion, jealousy and the lure of dangerous sex in a vanilla world.
By Colin Harrison and Kathryn Harrison
[07/23/99]

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"In our church, unfortunately," explains the disobedient clergyman, "I'm allowed to come into their home and bless their house, bless their car, bless their tractor and even bless their dog, but I'm not allowed to bless them."

The new couple, Jeanne Barnett, 68, a high-ranking church lay leader, and Ellie Charlton, 63, a great-grandmother whose new marriage was witnessed by multiple generations of her family, smiled shyly during the ceremony; an audience of more than 1,000 turned out to throw rainbow-colored streamers. Among them were dozens of same-sex couples -- couples who had been together three years, five years, 10 years, and some as long as Jeanne and Ellie themselves -- 15 years.

But none of them -- not even the couple in the ceremony -- could be legally married under California law, or officially blessed by their church.

United Methodists, known for their comparative tolerance, have split into rival factions over the issue of gays and lesbians in the church. Some congregations -- such as the Reconciling congregation, founded by Fado himself -- are open to gays and lesbians. Others, including members of the Confessing movement, will only accept gay worshippers on the condition that they attempt to pray away their sinful sexuality. Last month, members of an Atlanta congregation splintered off after their local church leaders decided to allow their ministers to perform gay unions on church property.

In the eye of this brewing storm lives Fado, an amiable man with gray hair and bottle-bottom glasses. On a warm day in the Sacramento suburb where he lives, he offers boysenberries from his garden and takes a seat on a couch spread with well-washed floral sheets (thin protection against a recent visit from the grandkids). Today, he's trying to figure out how he can make an upcoming visit to the South Bay near San Francisco, and still stop by the Gay Pride Parade. He happens to be an honorary grand marshal of this year's downtown San Francisco festival, where gay and lesbian Christians march alongside leather-clad men in cheek-flashing chaps, and lesbians parade on Harleys as "Dykes on Bikes."

Fado, who knew before he was old enough to drive that he would one day serve the church, remains unfazed by an event that might send other religious leaders running for the holy water. To him, straight or gay, they're all God's children.

"I made the decision to minister to human beings," he says.

Shortly after an anti-gay-marriage ballot measure made news statewide, San Francisco recognized Fado's controversial actions by designating Feb. 11, 1999, as Don Fado Day. His actions won the "recognition" of church elders, too. (It helped that he sent his bishop a videotape of the ceremony.) Meanwhile, the Mormon Church has begun to contribute money to the anti-gay-marriage initiative.

Next page | "I wasn't being disobedient -- the church was disobedient"