Noah Phelps of Westboro Baptist Church.

The members of Westboro Baptist Church (WBC), the ones holding the signs that read ‘God hates fags’ and ‘God hates America’, they don’t want to save you.

They have no interest in converting you to their beliefs. They don’t care if you hate them. In fact, that’s exactly what they’re hoping you’ll do.

“The Lord Jesus Christ said, ‘In the last hours of the last days, you’ll be hated by all men for these words, for this gospel’,” Shirley Phelps-Roper told me yesterday as she, her sister, Margie; her brother, Timothy; and her son, Noah, picketed several area high schools, temples and Norfolk Naval Base. “And he said, ‘When that happens, rejoice.’ He said, ‘If they speak ill of you, that’s how they speak of Christ and God the Father. If they speak well of you, woe unto you because so spoke they of the false prophets.’”

Shirley Phelps-Roder.

From that sentiment it’s almost easy to see why she and her sisters and brothers and other members of their church have conducted some 40,000 pickets around the country for nearly 20 years. It’s clear to see why many of those were at funerals of fallen soldiers, perhaps the most incendiary of all places to show up and stomp on the American flag. And why they also show up to the Oscars to picket the nomination of the film Milk (a biopic of gay activist and politician Harvey Milk), and to Michael Jackson’s funeral, as well as to Matthew Shephard’s. And why they record spoof songs and crave media attention. They want to be hated by as many people as can possibly hear their message.

Our hatred, they believe, reflects their holiness.

“[The Bible] says there are only going to be few,” 11-year-old Noah told me. “It says we’re going to be hated. Well, we’re the most hated family in America,” he said, referring to the title of a documentary that the BBC released about the Phelpses.

And of course hatred is exactly what they get. As I spoke with Phelps-Roper, standing on the corner of Hampton and Terminal, just one stop on their “tour” of Hampton Roads, no less than three people drove by and yelled “Fuck you!” in our direction. Another handful gave the middle finger. Dozens blasted their horns. The reaction to their pickets is “pretty much the same everywhere,” she said. Later she prompted me to ask her if anyone has ever joined the church after hearing their message. “One family” was her proud answer.

But of course, her goal is not to recruit followers. This isn’t that kind of Christianity. More so, it is to make known how unholy the rest of us are. Amongst their many signs is one that reads, “God hates YOU.”

Timothy Phelps.

“Eight souls went onto that ark,” she reminded me. “Sixteen billion, by some counts, all the rest of those souls went straight to Hell.” When asked how many people in WBC are not related to the Phelpses, Shirley’s sister Megan replied via email with similar rhetoric: “There are six who aren’t related by blood or marriage. Now I have a question for you: how many people escaped certain death and worldwide destruction in the Flood who weren’t related to Noah?  (I’ll just tell you the answer: none!).”

The Noah leading this ark is Fred Phelps, founder of WBC and, ironically, a former civil rights activist. While even the most fundamental Christians believe that God is loving and forgiving, and that sinners will always have an opportunity to repent and be saved, Phelps’ preachings are based on what he calls “Five-Point Calvinism.” His manifesto goes so far as to say that believing in and preaching God’s unconditional love will send you to Hell.

“In this nation that is unbelievably blessed by God, this generation has so fully forgotten–has so fully rebelled against his commandment,” explained Timothy. “He has promised very specifically and certainly that he’s going to repay a nation that forgets him. And such a nation will be turned into Hell. That’s a horrible end, and it’s our job to communicate that message. It’s our own expense, and we do it with a pure heart. We don’t want anything except for people to know what the standard is. It’s a simple standard: Obey God.”

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But with all their hate-mongering and judgment, what the Phelpses may not realize that they’re most successful at is bringing communities together in response to their pickets.

Hundreds of people turned out to counter-protest the WBC. Laura Hofford, who organized the official “Westboro Baptist Church Funny Sign Counter Protest” reported that before she left for Granby High School, the first stop for the Phelpses, more than 750 people had confirmed on the event’s Facebook page their planned attendance and participation over the following three days.

Cody Lee Dickey, gay and Christian.

Cody Lee Dickey, 21, from Virginia Beach, was one of those people. “I’m a gay Christian, and I hate the fact that my faith is so abused by hateful people like the WBC. So be a counter-revolution.” His sign read: “1 John 4:8 God is love.”

Students filtered out of Granby High with the support of their teachers. “They told us to come out here and protest without being violent,” said 18-year-old Terrell Diggs, who added, “Everybody’s got their own beliefs. What they believe, I believe otherwise. I’m a Christian; I believe God loves everyone. Without God we wouldn’t be here.”

One young woman showed up with a boombox blasting “I’m Coming Out,” and “I Believe in a Thing Called Love.” When the national anthem played, everyone sang. There were chants of “Obama! Obama!,” a man whom the WBC has called the Antichrist. Rainbow flags flew alongside flags of Israel. A young man held up a sign offering free hugs. As much as there was a point to be made, there was so much love and laughter in the crowd that at times it felt almost more like a party than it did a protest. At other times the seriousness of the situation was enough to bring people to tears.

The intent to support the “counter-revolution” drew everyone from local drag performer and LGBT activist Jennifer Warner, who remarked, “If this was the first time you ever came to this country and this is what you saw–what a terrible thing immigrants would think this was all about”; to Jeremy Slosser, president of the Unitarian Church of Norfolk, who agreed, “I think the message they’re trying to spread is not the message they’re spreading. I think that’s their problem.” Incidentally, the ministers at the Unitarian Church of Norfolk, Rev. Phyllis Hubbell and Rev. John Manwell, have said that, in support of gay rights, they will not sign marriage licenses for anyone until the state of Virginia passes the law to acknowledge same-sex marriage.

“I think this is the year for LGBT issues,” said Joel McDonald, 25, who attended the counter protest as a representative of the LGBT & Family & Friends Stonewall Caucus of the Democratic Party of Virginia. “We saw at the end of last year communities getting a little more fired up. 2010 seems to be a good year federally and hopefully within the state. I think a lot more people are paying attention, and I think a lot more younger people are saying, ‘We’ve got to speak up and push for change in this area.’”

One counter-protester, Teej Beck, noted on the other hand that the crowd was not as diverse in age as it could have been: “I’m so impressed with all the young people here. But what is with our older community? Where are the gays 30 and up? Has apathy affected us that much? That we’re leaving it in the hands of just children? I mean, they’re doing great, but we do need to have some voices in our community that’s lived through worse than the Reverend Phelps.”

Beck joked that as a gay Jew, he felt doubly compelled to support the cause. Nearby a teenage girl sported messages that relayed a different combination of causes: On her arm were the words “Navy brat” and “Navy Pride,” and on her shirt were the words, “Kiss me, I’m gay.”

When I asked if she was both, the 16-year-old told me, “Yeah. My dad’s Navy, and pretty much my entire family is Navy. I feel like I should represent the Navy. And I’m gay.”

Are you out to your family? I asked then. “No, I’m not. No.”

The reason why not: “Because my parents would be crushed. I tried. And it wasn’t accepted, so I’ve had to hide it from my parents. But everybody else knows, except for my parents.”

And there it was. Amongst the chaos that drew hundreds of people, a small team of police officers, several television crews, and of course the WBC themselves, was the ultimate story of intolerance. A girl who came there to represent for her family; a family that in turn refused to accept a defining part of her identity. She couldn’t, for obvious reasons, even tell me her name, lest her parents find out that she’s gay.

We can scorn the WBC and the Phelpses, and we can come together with messages of love and understanding and we’re-all-in-this-togetherness. But until people like the young lady I met don’t have to wash themselves of their identity before going home, we still, even in the absence of abject hatred, have a long way to go.