The price of honesty - Brief Article

Charles Coppinger may lose his job as chaplain to the Arizona legislature for coming out as a gay man

It is not your typical coming-out story. "Mom, Dad, I'm gay, Charles Coppinger Jr. told his parents at their Arizona home in early October. "And by the way, here's the coming-out letter I'm sending to the state legislature. Tomorrow it's going to be in all the papers." Sure enough, Coppinger, the chaplain of the Arizona legislature, made headlines when he announced publicly that he is gay.

The Coppingers were shocked by their son's revelation and the public nature of it but ultimately embraced him. "My dad said, `Son, because I love you, you're the only gay person I haven't been prejudiced against,'" Coppinger says with a laugh. "They are struggling with it but making a lot of progress."

The reaction of the state legislature is another matter, however. Coppinger's announcement that he is gay, timed for National Coming Out Day on October 11, unleashed a firestorm of criticism from conservative legislators. For his honesty, Coppinger has had to face the possibility that he could lose his job.

"He has betrayed all of us who have been past supporters. Charley has ruined his credibility," state senator Scott Bundgaard declared after reading Coppinger's statement. "As such, I believe he's no longer qualified to be the chaplain of the legislature. He should resign."

The fate of Coppinger's chaplaincy, which he created in 1996, likely will be determined in January, when the legislature begins its next session. Senate president Brenda Burns, who appointed Coppinger, told The Arizona Republic that lawmakers will debate "whether members feel there is something productive to having this position at all, making a change at the position, or keeping Reverend Coppinger." Complicating the issue is Coppinger's admission that he once took $14,000 from an employer to give to conservative Christian causes.

Coppinger faces a tough fight. "His conservative backers don't feel comfortable having him in the office now that they know he is gay," says Ken Cheuvront, an openly gay member of the Arizona house of representatives who encouraged Coppinger to come out to legislators. "Liberals, who were not even aware that we had such an office, are now saying that they feel it violates the separation of church and state and we should eliminate it."

The chaplain's revelation poses a particularly challenging dilemma for conservative legislators who were once among his staunchest supporters. Before his coming-out, they knew the popular Coppinger, 36, as an ordained Baptist minister who converted to the Church of Christ, a fundamentalist denomination. (The church revoked the ordination on October 22.) "What my old supporters have to realize is that I'm the same person I was before all this happened," Coppinger says. "I have the same values and beliefs; I'm just being more honest about myself."

Not everyone shares the chaplain's view. Coppinger already has been forced to resign from his position with Foundation for Success, a conservative ministry that paid his $30,000 chaplain's salary and housing stipend. At the urging of church leaders, he has left Christ Church of the Valley in Peoria, Ariz., where he had been a longtime member. He has since joined the Community Church of Hope in Phoenix, a predominantly gay and lesbian congregation.

"What I heard in the church all these years is that sexual sins are the most sinful and of the sexual sins, homosexuality is the most sinful," Coppinger says. "I heard over and over again that I was deviant and immoral. I believed it myself. But then I started to think, If God really created me this way, homosexuality couldn't be so bad. And when I really looked at the six passages in the Bible that are used to beat up on people, I just didn't see the evidence."

Despite the sensitive nature of the political debate, some state politicians are clearly willing to play hardball. Just days after his declaration, The Arizona Republic reported that in 1987 a civil court ordered Coppinger to repay the $14,000 he embezzled from a greeting card store where he worked.

"That was a cheap shot," says Coppinger, who says he donated most of the money he stole to Focus on the Family and other conservative religious groups. "I believe it came from someone in the capitol who wants to distract from the real issue. There are some legislators who don't want to go on the record firing me because I'm gay. This gives them the excuse for which they were looking."

The episode occurred during what Coppinger describes as a "low point" in his life. Depressed about the breakup of a relationship with a woman, he struggled to reconcile his sexual orientation and his faith. "I came out in part to avoid the kind of destructive scandals we have seen in politics," he explains. "I didn't want someone to discover it and think I was hiding something. Now my opponents have gone out and created a scandal where none exists."

Ironically, Coppinger's political fate may hinge on legislators' view of his private life. He promised them he would remain celibate while in office. "For years I disowned my sexuality and chose celibacy," he says. "I'm saying that I will remain that way. I've been told it's an important issue."

Coppinger is clearly unhappy with the demand, however. "At what point do I cross the line for the conservatives?" he says. "When I'm attracted to another man? When I hold another man's hand? When I go out to dinner with someone? When do they start seeing me as a gay person?"

No matter what the future of his chaplaincy, Coppinger says he has no regrets. "This is the first time I can really breathe freely," he says. "I spent so much time trying not to act like a homosexual that it was taking all my energy. I'm finally allowed to be myself, and nobody can take that away from me."

For more information about Coppinger and his ministry, go to www.advocate.com

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