Advocate, The: Breaking barriers in Harlem: a New York City congregation prepares for the first same

Tod Roulette is understandably proud when he walks through the small, darkened chapel of St. Philip's Church on 134th Street in New York City's Harlem. As the day's last glimmer of light pierces the candy-colored swirls of the church's stained glass windows, he recites a litany of the famous congregants who have worshiped at this sanctuary--one of the oldest African-American churches in the country.

It's a who's who of prominent black Americans, including Supreme Court justice Thurgood Marshall, writer and activist W.E.B. DuBois, poet Langston Hughes, and jazz legend Duke Ellington.

But on November 29 the church will distinguish itself again: Roulette, 36, and his partner, Charles Allen III, 50, will have what is believed to be the first holy union officially sanctioned by a bishop and church board in an African-American Episcopal congregation.

The timing of the ceremony follows another high-profile event for the Episcopal Church, which this summer stunned its own members and the religious world by confirming the Reverend V. Gene Robinson as its first openly gay bishop. And observers say Allen and Roulette's ceremony is further evidence of how the Episcopal Church is in some ways making itself over in favor of its gay and lesbian members.

"The times are moving on, and we have to get on board," Roulette says.

This summer the whole world watched as the Episcopal Church became embroiled in a heated battle over the approval of Robinson as bishop for the Diocese of New Hampshire. But what received far less coverage, experts say, was the behind-the Scenes debate over the question of church-sanctioned same-sex unions.

"The big news story was whether to ratify the election of Gene Robinson as bishop," says J. Terry Todd, a professor of religious studies at Drew University in Madison, N.J. The second issue--whether the Episcopal Church should authorize a liturgy for same-sex unions--went nearly unnoticed by the general public, he adds. "That had a mixed outcome," he says. "The [church] said, 'We will leave this up to the discretion of each diocese.'"

Framed against this backdrop, the decision of St. Philip's to authorize Allen and Roulette's union is all the more interesting because not only is the church itself old, but it has an aging congregation, with an average age of over 60.

The Reverend Cecily Broderick y Guerra, who will officiate at the union, is careful to point out that she will perform a holy ration, not a wedding. "The church is saying that weddings have been for males and females," she says. "We are acknowledging there are same-sex couples that watt to make a lifelong commitment, and for the moment the nomenclature is 'a union ceremony.'"

With that in mind, she praises Allen and Roulette for being trailblazers. "I am inspired by their bravery and their commitment to God," she says. "It is just the most wonderful thing in the world to see two people who have thought really hard about their religion and what it means to make a lifelong commitment to each other."

In many ways Allen and Roulette seem well-suited to each other. They met just over three years ago at a Harlem social club. Allen, an accountant by training, is also a former state senator and alderman from Connecticut and currently works as a planning and housing consultant for federal and state agencies there and in New York. Roulette is a dealer in contemporary art and runs the nonprofit in Gallery, which is affiliated with St. Philip's.

But like all couples, they say each of them has a different way of approaching the world--Allen is more laconic, Roulette morn emotive--and they don't always see eye to eye: for example, on their reason for having the ceremony.

Allen says he wanted to have the holy union for practical reasons. "It is significant to me because it's the first step in establishing certain legal protections that are very much in our interest to establish for each other," he says, adding that these rights, which the state provides to registered domestic partners, cover such matters as inheritance and hospital visitations. "This institution of marriage is so intertwined with the law and the Bible and everything."

Rolling his eyes, Roulette says, "It happened because I asked you why you never asked me to marry you."

The couple has done quite a few of the traditional wedding-related tasks in preparation for the big day, such as regstering at Crate and Barrel, Macy's, and--of courage--Tiffany. "You can't be gay and not be registered at Tiffany's," Roulette quips.

Though the couple and Broderick y Guerra acknowledge that the whole congregation may not support the same-sex union, they say most congregants have been encouraging. For example, New York State assemblyman Keith Wright, a lifelong member of the church, says the holy union brings a new sense of vitality and energy to the church.

"The times are a-changing, and the world is not a black-and-white world," Wright says. "It comprises many different facets, and some of these facets are now being brought to the Episcopal Church. I am sure other churches will follow."

Allen and Roulette share the hope that their ceremony will help make churches of all denominations more open to gay and lesbian relationships. "I am sick of running, and sick of being run out by hypocrites who use the Bible to throw it at people," Roulette says. "It is important for me that the church acknowledges who I love and who I want to spend the rest of my life with."

Quittner has also written for The New York Times and Business Week.