Preacher making a point on marriage

To press for rights of same-sex couples, won't sign licenses


By Carlene Hempel, Globe Correspondent, 2/18/2003


People have always liked to get married in the small New England
country-style church just off Littleton Center.


The white wood frame, the simple and elegant stained-glass windows, the
steeple of First Church Unitarian that stretches up over just about
everything else in town. Even the hard pews, original to the 1841 building,
evoke a feeling of history and tradition.


Which is why Rev. Fred Small wasn't sure how it would go when he
announced to his congregation at Sunday services a few weeks ago that he
wouldn't be signing Massachusetts marriage licenses anymore - at least not
until the state lets him sign them for same-sex couples as well.


''I will joyfully perform religious weddings for heterosexual or
same-sex couples,'' he told the 130 or so assembled there on Feb. 2 amid a
swirling snowstorm outside. ''But I will not sign the license unless and
until the Commonwealth of Massachusetts extends to same-sex couples the
benefits, protections, and responsibilities of marriage. If heterosexual
couples wish to legalize their bond, I will direct them to a justice of the
peace.''


Head of the Unitarian Universalist congregation since 1999, Small, a
former folk singer, received an e-mail a few days earlier about a colleague
in Arkansas who said he would not be signing licenses for a year in protest
of the ban in that state. Small, who was married in 1996, has several gay
friends and family members, including his mother-in-law and brother-in-law.
So, he decided to borrow the idea but make it open-ended. Instead of a year,
Small will beg off signing licenses until same-sex unions are legal in
Massachusetts.


Vermont is the only state that recognizes same-sex civil unions. But 36
states have passed laws against them. Several groups in Massachusetts are
working to ban gay unions, including the Waltham-based Citizens for Marriage.
And Governor Mitt Romney has said he opposes same-sex marriage and would not
sign legislation to legalize it.


Phyllis Terrey, a lesbian member of Small's congregation, doesn't
believe that the minister's boycott will sway opponents. But by taking his
public stance, she says, Small is showing that he understands, and is making
an effort to let others know that.


''We're not going to read next week or next month or even next year
that this has all been solved, but it still feels good to have somebody stand
up for us,'' she said.


Standing up, of course, doesn't mean closing the church to heterosexual
couples. Jill-Beth ''JB'' Sweeney and Steve Schultheis, engaged since August,
had already arranged with Small to marry them in a backyard ceremony this
Sept. 13. So, the day before he delivered his sermon, Small called the couple
to explain his decision, and see how they felt.


They couldn't have been happier. Small will perform the ceremony, and a
justice of the peace will sign the paperwork.


''We never dreamt that our wedding would be an opportunity to take a
stand on an issue that's very important to us,'' said Sweeney. ''I sort of
feel like the accidental activist. I actually feel really blessed by this.''


The day he made his announcement, Small stood as always on the spare
stage of the church, his black and crimson robe dramatic against the
white-painted wood of the pulpit. It was five minutes past 11 when he started
his 2,000-word sermon, and 20 minutes later, when he neared its finish, he
wondered what would happen. He certainly didn't predict the standing ovation.


Small stumbled back a few steps to take it in. At first he was
embarrassed, and then honored. Normally, at the end of a service, he would
hold up his hymnal book and nod at the choir to begin the last song.


But this day was already so different. He turned, grabbed his Gibson
acoustic guitar, and in the key of D started to play a tune he wrote prior to
1999, when he gave up touring as a folk singer. It's called ''Everything
Possible.'' While singing, Small says, he caught a glimpse of a few
parishioners reaching for the tissue boxes provided in the pews.


''I wouldn't say I had been anxious, but maybe even I was a little
relieved,'' he said. ''I felt that I knew this congregation well enough to
know that even if they disagreed with me, they would respect my decision.
They would know it was one of conscience.''



This story ran on page B1 of the Boston Globe on 2/18/2003.

© Copyright 2003 Globe Newspaper Company.