Meet the pastor who was defrocked for officiating his son's gay wedding

Update 10/29/2014: Last December, Rev. Frank Schaefer was very publicly defrocked for officiating his son's gay wedding. He vowed to fight it, dividing the United Methodist Church and transforming himself into a prominent face of the gay rights movement.

On Monday, the United Methodist Judicial Council, the church's highest legal panel, upheld Schaefer's reinstatement, acknowledging in its opinion that "some within the church do not support this outcome today."

For decades, the 7.5 million-strong church has struck down any attempt to overturn its ban on same-sex marriage. But about six months ago, the church approved same-sex benefits to some employees, if permitted under state law.

Schaeffer called the decision in his case a "small, but significant step" for the church. "I will continue the fight alongside thousands of others in the reconciling movement for full inclusion and an open altar for all," he said. "I know the day is coming when this dream will be reality and I don't think it is that far in the future."

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The Rev. Frank Schaefer was no different than many other Methodist pastors with a conservative upbringing. His slight German accent would punctuate his gregarious Sunday morning masses in Lebanon, Penn., for years.

He believed strongly that homosexuality was incompatible with Christian teachings. That is until 2000, when he received a phone call from a woman who wanted to remain anonymous. 

"This lady said, 'I need you to know that your son is considering suicide. And it's because he's gay,'" Schaefer said. "I remember thinking, 'My son is not gay, she must have the wrong number.'" 

When confronted, his 17-year-old son Tim came out to Schaefer and his wife, Brigitte. He said he cried himself to sleep. He said he prayed to God to make him "normal." He said when that didn’t happen, he thought of suicide.

"When he came out sharing this with us, we just couldn't hold back our tears," Schaefer said. "My wife and I just embraced him and told him, 'We love you, son. You know it doesn't matter to us. You still are our son. We love you, no matter what." 

He adds: "We realized that this was not something he chose. He did not choose to be homosexual." 

His son's coming out led the reverend to accept the LGBT community with open arms. It also brought about his defrocking from the United Methodist Church. 

Four years after he came out to his family, Tim fell in love with a college classmate. After dating that man for two and a half years, they got engaged.

"I was ecstatic," Schaefer said. "I was just overjoyed and I congratulated him. And the next thing out of his mouth was, 'Dad, would you do the wedding?'”

“You just feel honored that your child would ask you,” he explains. “And so I immediately reacted from my heart and said, 'Absolutely, son.' And it was almost simultaneously after I had given the answer that I thought, 'Uh, oh, what is this going to do in my role in the Church?'" 

The Book of Discipline forbids United Methodist ministers from presiding over gay marriages. Schaefer informed his bishop that he would be officiating the wedding. There was no controversy at the time. 

Tim and his fiancé were married in Cohasset, a tiny coastal town in eastern Massachusetts. The reverend and his wife went back to Lebanon, Penn., where they lived peacefully for six years. 

Then last April, Schaefer received a call from his bishop. One of his congregants had obtained the license from Tim’s wedding and was filing a complaint. In the United Methodist Church, a complaint might lead to a trial very similar to a civil court – with a judge, jury and a prosecutor. 

"I was totally shocked," Schaefer said. "I did not expect this. I didn't even think about this ever becoming an issue because it was so long ago."

In fact, if the complainant had waited 26 more days, the issue would have exceeded the Methodist Church’s statute of limitations. 

"I don't remember anger as much as I felt embarrassed," Schaefer said. "It was like an invasion into my privacy, into our private family affair… I felt like this is going to be known by everybody in the Church now. And I knew it was in a conservative area and many people are conservative in my Church and I just dreaded having this become an issue." 

What Schaefer didn’t realize, however, was that he was about to become a prominent face of the LGBT movement. 

"Each trial takes on its own character and its own context. There's no standard penalty for any violation like this,” explains Robin Hynicka, a Philadelphia pastor who belongs to the “reconciling” faction of the Methodist Church, which supports same-sex marriage. Reconciling Methodists are on one side of a growing rift in the country's largest mainline Protestant denomination.

The two-day trial was held in the gymnasium at Camp Innabah, a United Methodist retreat in Spring City, Pa. There were about 100 viewers on both sides of the debate, and LGBT advocates sang hymns and held signs of support outside. 

"There was one point where the crowd got a little bit excited because one of the cross-examiners had suggested that what if this case was about racism?" said Rev. Paul Fullmer, the chaplain at Lebanon Valley College, who witnessed the proceedings. "And the woman he was cross-examining said, ‘Well, maybe it should be about racism!' And people cheered, and the judge said, 'Stop! We need to have control in this courtroom.' It was a lively crowd."

Schaefer didn't deny that he performed the same sex marriage. In fact, he embraced it unapologetically, and wore a rainbow-covered stole on the witness stand. 

"My evolution from being a silent supporter to becoming an advocate for the LGBT community is very similar to an outing process of a gay person," Schaefer said. "I wasn't going to lie about my position. So, I started talking about my beliefs, that I did not think homosexuality was a sin."

On the drive to the Valley Forge Conference Center in Norristown, Pa., Schaefer was nervous. He'd been a minister for 20 years. But deep down, he was confident that the Church would let him keep his pulpit.

Some of his congregants, like Ellyn Ross, were less hopeful. "I'm fearful," Ross told America Tonight. "I don't know what to expect, exactly... I know that God isn't finished with him yet. He has lots of wonderful, beautiful things to do in this world. And I would hope that he would be able to still do those within the United Methodist Church."

The meeting was much shorter than expected. The Board of Ordained Ministry took Schaefer's credentials and then held a short news conference to announce to the nation that he was no longer a minister with the United Methodist Church.