Affirmation: Gay & Lesbian Mormons

WHO
WE ARE

ESPECIALLY
FOR YOU

EVENTS
& NEWS

RESOURCES
& LINKS

BECOME
INVOLVED


DONATE

Suicide Prevention & Awareness

Robert J. Christensen (1943-2005)

Who is Responsible?

By Robert J. Christensen
Portland, Oregon Affirmation Chapter

Am I responsible, at least in part? How much are we responsible--as individuals, as leaders, as a church, as a community--for the deaths?

On February 24, 2000 a young, gay Mormon wrote a note to his parents. Early the next morning he went to the Mormon stake center in Los Altos, California and put a bullet through his head. "Do not resuscitate," read a note pinned to his shirt.

Stuart Matis wrote that he had struggled for years with his "internalized homophobia," that both a father's and a bishop's blessings had confirmed the reality of his same-sex attractions, and that he had at last found a man he could love. He had prayed and fasted for change, but change never came. He was coming to terms with himself, but aggressive Mormon support for California's "Limitation on Marriage Act" disturbed and depressed him. "I cried for hours in my room, and I could do very little to console the grief." A bishop has spoken of his "brightness, goodness, and kindness," but Stuart had heard a different message when he was among the Saints. "I simply could not live another day choking on my own feelings of inferiority."

"Homophobia is a disease that destroys families," he wrote, "and unfortunately the Church's rhetoric and actions will only continue to nurture this disease."

In the evening of March 9, 2000 another young, gay Mormon posted a new homepage on the Internet. Then he went into his room and put a bullet through his head.

DJ Thompsonwas a gentle man who loved cats. He saw efforts to limit marriage as "the last straw in my life long battle to see peace in the world I live in." He thought his death would "go unnoticed, unappreciated, and under valued. My words will be ignored by most that even hear or read them."

I did not know him well, but I shall miss him.

I never knew Clay Whitmer, another young, gay Mormon. He and Stuart had met in Italy while serving missions for the Mormon Church. Years later they had told each other of their attraction to men.

Clay knew of Stuart's plans and had hoped to cheer him up, but he has too late, and several weeks later he too put a bullet through his own head.

Many of us know of other suicides.

Mormon church president, Gordon B. Hinckley, safe in the private shadows of his Salt Lake office, plots strategy for the Mormon campaign to limit marriage. Fathers and mothers have openly asked how proscribing same-sex marriage would protect their families, but the prophet does not respond.

In conference he counsels that "our opposition to same-sex marriage should never be interpreted as justification for hatred, intolerance, or abuse of those who profess homosexual tendencies, either individually or as a group." He may counsel, but which message is heard? What action does his churchly rhetoric encourage? Which walk is his talk inspiring?

And so my question continues to fester. How did I, he, we, contribute to the deaths of these, our brothers in Christ?

James implies an answer. Control your tongues, he tells us. We are responsible for both the intended and unintended efforts of what we say. We must ask what actions our speech encourages, for we are—at least in part—responsible for those actions.

Where were we when they needed our warmth and love? Were we too busy with staged crusades? Or had we been cowed into silence?

They died, but we still live.

What would Christ have us do? But more important, what would He have me do?