Queer Holiness and Turning Points

If you don't know, I have ADHD. Because of this, my brain tends to go in a million different directions on the smallest of nudges. So, I'll hear something which takes me to A which reminds me of B which takes me to C, then D, etc. Often, I'll end up in a completely different area then I started and trying to trace my thought process for other people ends up being confusing and convoluted. It makes sense to me because my brain sees connections, but often I can't exactly explain the connection and it doesn't make sense to other people without a fair amount of explanation.

I start with that because I had an experience like that at Vespers at my church last night (December 4th) and then again this morning based on a post and question from Brian Murphy on Queer Theology's Sanctuary Collective. As is my brain's wont, it wandered through a bunch of thoughts. Brian asked people to respond and I realized that I had more to say than could really be said in a reply online, hence I am here. So, let's get started.

Last night at Vespers, we read the story of the Annunciation. After we read the story, Pastor Kari read to us from Into the Mess by Debie Thomas and then asked us to reflect on what we heard. What struck me was something Thomas wrote about how the angel greeted Mary and how the greeting "Highly favored one" was a new identity that Mary was given before she did anything or agreed to be the Theotokos ("God-bearer" or "Mother of God"). So, naturally, the first place my mind went was to queer or trans people who change their names to better reflect their full identity.  Also, in the Bible, there are many, many times where people were given new names to reflect changing circumstances or something different. A few examples: Abram and Sarai to Abraham and Sarah, Jacob to Israel, Simon to Peter, and Saul to Paul. Growing up, I was always told that "highly favored one" was merely a descriptor of Mary, not an identity. The difference is that an identity tells us something central or foundational about you, it describes who you are at your core. A descriptor, on the other hand, is more relational because it describes how someone else sees you or thinks about you. So, it is not about who you are, but rather about how someone else sees you. Looked at in this light, "highly favored one" takes on a different and deeper meaning. It is describing Mary as being "highly favored" at her core and as a basic part of who she is rather than merely seen as favored by God. I will also admit that my view of this is colored by the fact that I grew up Catholic and I still have a deep devotion to Mary. I see her as someone who we should be striving to emulate. She served and loved God and also strove to instill a sense of justice in Jesus (see the Magnificat and then listen to the Queer Theology podcast episode about the Magnificat).

This also led me down a path that ultimately made me reflect on people who come out of conservative Christian traditions and end up deconstructing and reconstructing their faith or just leaving their faith altogether. More often than not, we are given an image of God as vindictive and obsessed with justice and these qualities tend to overshadow the Love and Mercy of God. We are given this image of God as the stern Father or Judge who holds all of our sins and faults against us. Sure, they might say that God Loves us or something, but the overwhelming message is one of terror and punishment. After all, there's a reason why Hell and being damned are so popular and widely discussed in those circles. One major turning point in my life was when I experienced God's Love and realized that it is unconditional and irrevocable. It is something I can build my life and beliefs on. If God's Love is unconditional and not dependent on what we do (in a similar way that Mary's identity as "highly favored" was not dependent on what she did), then we can rest assured in Their Love and know that we are always Loved no matter what other humans may say.

And this, coupled with what someone else said about Mary's faith and bravery (see what I mean about my mind going down different paths quickly?) brought to mind that question of whether or not Mary went through any sort of process before she accepted what the angel said to her. Did she just hear it and trust (which is what I was taught growing up) or did she have to take some time to actually consider and ponder what she had been told? In Luke 2:19, we are told that, after the shepherds visited Jesus in the manager because the angels appeared to them, "Mary committed these things to memory and considered them carefully." (Common English Bible) or "But Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart." (NIV) I wonder if she "pondered" or "considered...carefully" what the angel said to her when he announced that Mary would bear a son.

This moment changed Mary's life in ways that I don't think any of us could possibly imagine. And that leads me to what Brian asked us to consider this morning (December 5th). His post talked about how the Magi "were so moved by their encounter with Jesus, so transformed by what they experienced that they could not help but to return another way. They were forever changed." He then asked us, "What are some moments that have been transformation for you in your gender, sexuality, relationship, and faith journeys? Take a moment to remember them and to name them as holy, because I really do believe they are." And it's that question which connected to what we were talking about at Vespers. Like Mary's life and the lives of the Magi were changed by their encounters with the Divine, I think about the things that changed my life in profound and meaningful ways. And to be honest, if I listed them all, I would be writing for some time. So, I want to really just look at a few of them. I am not going to talk about the experience I had when I was a senior in college because I've talked about it several times, so I want to look at three other things that changed my life.

The first thing that really changed me was may acceptance and acknowledgement that I was queer in 2002. I had known for years that I liked guys, but I had always resisted it or told myself that it was a phase that I would get over. When I accepted that I was queer, it started a shift within me of how I perceived myself and the world. I no longer looked at queerness as something outside of me or something that I had to struggle to suppress, but as something that was a part of who I was. There was a process there. First, I went through a phase where I said it was only one facet of who I was and not that important. Ultimately, I moved to seeing it as something that was fundamental to me, and it grew in importance. As I moved through the stages to this destination, I was also changing my political and religious beliefs. And I don't think that would have happened without my accepting my queerness.

The second thing was leaving the Catholic Church. As I accepted my queerness more and more, I realized that, for me, being Catholic was fundamentally incompatible with being queer. I know there are people who can be both, but I couldn't do it myself. So, I left the Catholic Church in 2010 and didn't go to church for about 5 years (summer of 2015). That summer, I realized that I was missing the sense of community that I got from church, so I decided to look for a liturgical church that was also accepting of queer people. On November 8, 2015, I entered the doors of Christ the Servant Lutheran Church in Gaithersburg, MD after having visited (and rejecting) a few other churches. And that is where I made my religious home. I've become very involved in the church and, through the support of people there and the support of other friends, realized that I am non-binary which led to my changing my pronouns to match my newly realized sense of self. Please note that I did not take on a new identity at this time, rather I realized a part of me I hadn't been able to name before. I did ultimately take on a new name, but that was in 2019 after I realized that my birth name wasn't fitting who I now knew I was. If I hadn't left the Catholic Church, none of this would have happened.

The third thing was learning about Queer Theology from my friend Hugo. He made a post on Instagram about seeing an object and naming what it made you think of and that led me to Brian and Fr. Shay. These two men have had a massive impact on my life and my faith, so much so that I call them my spiritual daddies. They formed a community that has provided me, and others, with the support we need to fully acknowledge who we are and to explore our relationship to the Divine. Before I heard about QT, I would say that most of my beliefs were pretty mainline Christianity. I hadn't really thought about things as much as I could have, and I didn't really challenge some of the beliefs I grew up with. Brian and Fr. Shay helped provide a framework that allowed me to feel grounded while also allowing me to question and explore. They also give you space and a community where questioning is not only allowed but also welcomed. Sanctuary Collective is a space where I have gone with questions or dilemmas. And it is thanks to Sanctuary Collective that I realized that I am biromantic and that realization gave me the support I needed to ultimately realize that I am greysexual and biaesthetic.

Brian's note about how these experiences are holy brought me to some things my friend Billie Hoard has said. If you don't know who Billie is, let me gush about her for a bit. She is a trans woman, a teacher, a father, and she writes about theology, C.S. Lewis, and queerness on social media (look for @billieiswriting on Instagram and Threads and she is also on Bluesky, but I don't remember the link). Every day (or almost every day), she posts about how queerness and transness are holy and how they enrich our lives. I couldn't help but hear her as I was reading Brian's words. Queerness and transness are a part of the fabric of the universe that God created. Our lives and experiences show how expansive the world is and how free everyone can be if we try and loosen the shackles that the world has placed on us. Queerness and transness defy the binaries that the world wants to impose on us and allows us to see possibility and hope.

If you've made it this far, thank you. I hope it was moderately well organized and easily understandable. If you have any questions, please do not hesitate to ask. I'll try my best to answer.

Love you all.

Sermon- 11/17/2024

[This is the exact text of the sermon. So there are a few things that make more sense when heard live or when you go to my church, but I am leaving it this way rather than editing it more. - MV]

Before I start saying what I want to say, I wanted to give a thank you and acknowledgement to my friend, mentor, and one of my spiritual daddies, Brian G. Murphy who, along with Fr. Shannon T L Kearns, is the co-host and co-creator of the Queer Theology podcast. About a week and a half ago, he recorded some thoughts about how we can survive and thrive in this time. Much of the framing and structure underlying my thoughts today comes from what he said. I will make sure a link to that episode goes out in the Communique tomorrow.

Also, as we discovered last week, there is a lot of fear about the future right now. So I want to thank Pastor Kari and Linda for giving us the opportunity to name our fears. I found it to be powerful and when I named my fears and heard others naming theirs, it made the fears seem a little smaller. They are still there, don’t get me wrong, but naming them seemed to help a little. And when I talked about the opportunity on social media, someone said it was “Pastoring done right!”

Let's get started now.

“Let us keep firm in the hope we profess, because the One who made the promise is faithful. Let us always think of how we can stimulate each other to love and good works. Don’t stay away from meetings of the community, as some do, but encourage one another; and do this all the more as you see the Day drawing near.” - Hebrews 10:23-24

Hello everyone. Welcome and well come to Christ the Servant today, the twenty-sixth Sunday after Pentecost, or (using the liturgical calendar I grew up with) the thirty-third Sunday in Ordinary Time. Next week, we will be celebrating the Reign of Christ Sunday, which is the last Sunday of the liturgical year. After that, we will be celebrating Advent, that time when we prepare for the coming of the Christ child. It is meant to be a time of anticipation and of hope for the future.

I say all that because what I want to talk about this week is hope and taking some time shortly before Advent, a season about hope, to talk about it seems eminently appropriate. Hope, which can seem so small and fragile, actually is probably one of the toughest things around. And I’m not talking about pie-in-the-sky hope or wishful thinking. I am talking about something grounded, something that is almost tangible. Much of my basic theological understanding comes from the teachings of the Catholic Church. So, my thoughts about hope are tied to teachings from the Catholic Catechism, which says, "There are three theological virtues: faith, hope, and charity.” These “are the foundation of Christian moral activity; they animate it and give it its special character. They inform and give life to all the moral virtues. They are infused by God into the souls of the faithful to make them capable of acting as his children…They are the pledge of the presence and action of the Holy Spirit in the faculties of the human being." (CCC 1813)

After Christ died, the disciples hid away, huddled together, because they were afraid. In a post on Instagram posted shortly after the election, Reverend Jes Kast talked about how the time when the disciples were hidden away was a liminal time, a time after fear manifested itself but before hope sprung forth. We can find this liminalness repeating itself throughout history.

Think of Africans who were captured and brought across the Atlantic Ocean and sold as slaves in the Americas.

Think of the women who were working to bring equality to our nation for more than 100 years.

Think of the queer people of the 1950s and 60s who had to use silent signals to let people know who they were because if their identity became public, they might be fired and blacklisted.

And there are more examples I could give. But in each of these examples, the group being marginalized resisted and gave each other hope. The enslaved Africans sang spirituals about freedom and liberation and God’s Love. Women marched in the face of threats and violence. Queer people, led by drag queens and trans women, rioted at the Stonewall Inn in New York City and marched in Pride protests.

Hope isn’t only found in these bigger actions. Hope can also be found in small acts of kindness and love. Since the election, I have seen trans people on social media sharing tips with each other about how to survive and thrive. People who are looking to change their names are given help so fast, it almost makes your head spin. People who are dismayed at the results are sharing their pain and fears and supporting each other.

As Harvey Milk, a queer activist and member of the San Francisco Board of Supervisors who was assassinated in 1978, said, “You have to give them hope. Hope for a better world, hope for a better tomorrow, hope for a better place to come to if the pressures at home are too great. Hope that all will be all right. Without hope, not only are the gays, but the blacks, the seniors, the handicapped, the ‘us-es.’ The ‘us-es’ will give up.” Forming communities allows us to share hope with each other and also allows us to work together for our collective liberation. As Audre Lorde; a writer, professor, philosopher, intersectional feminist, poet and civil rights activist; said, “Without community, there is no liberation.” And listen to these pearls of wisdom from Bayard Rustin, a gay man who was a civil rights activist and an advisor to Martin Luther King, Jr. who led King towards wholly embracing non-violence: “The proof that one truly believes is in action.” and “You have to join every other movement for the freedom of people.”

Coming back to what the Catholic Church says, Hope is “the theological virtue by which we desire the kingdom of heaven and eternal life as our happiness, placing our trust in Christ’s promises and relying not on our own strength, but on the help of the grace of the Holy Spirit.” (CCC 1817) While I can appreciate this definition, I think it is too narrow. It is looking at the kingdom of heaven as something that is at some point in the future. But I believe that we are creating the Kindom here on this earth right now. All of our actions and words are working to create God’s Kindom in the here and now. And Hope is how we continue to work to establish this Kindom. Hope is what gives us the vision we need to imagine a new future and work for it. Hope is what picks us up and keeps us moving on, even when we might be weary and burdened. Hope is what gives us that spark to keep fighting for justice even in the face of odds that seem overwhelming.

In another sermon a few years ago, I talked about how God’s Love is a foundation for what I believe and something I can cling to at all times. Hope is also a part of that foundation. I believe that all humans have a better nature, a nature that is aligned with the Love of God. Even in the face of everything, I believe this. I believe that humans are, at their core, good and loving people who were created in the image and likeness of God. They don’t always act like it, but that core is there. Having this belief gives me hope that someday we might bend the moral arc of the universe toward justice.

This Wednesday is Trans Day of Remembrance, when we remember the members of the trans community who have been killed in the last year. Every year, the community gathers across the globe and names people who have been lost. And sometimes, we cannot name them, because there was one final act of violence in which the person was deadnamed or misgendered in death. But we carry on, knowing that those who came before us have helped pave the way to make things just a little bit better than they were, giving us that hope even when things are looking bleaker and bleaker.

There’s an influencer who goes by the name mattxiv who wrote this: “For the next four years, we will hold each other. We will love one another more than they could ever hate us. We will celebrate every win, no matter how small. We will throw parties when our trans friends announce their new names. Every Sunday is Pride Month. We will drive each other to abortion appointments. We will be each other’s shoulders to cry on. We will get dressed up just to order in, wear glitter and lashes just because, take road trips to places Fox News does not reach. We will find specks of joy in every little crevice life offers it. We, and only we, will carry each other through to the other side.”

Please don’t think I am saying this is going to be easy, because it ain’t gonna be. It’s gonna be hard work, it’s gonna be tiring, it’s gonna be exhausting. And we may or may not see the results we want to see. As the saying goes, “It’s a marathon, not a sprint.” We need to be in this for the long haul, no matter who is in power. And if we don’t have hope, I don’t know if we can continue on. So, I want to shamelessly steal from Pastor Kari and Linda and ask you to share with us all: What gives you Hope to continue on in the struggle for justice?

[Pause for a few minutes to allow people to share]

Thank you everyone for sharing the things that give you hope. As we come to the end of what I have to say, I want to quote a part of a reflection Brian G. Murphy wrote for Holy Saturday and resent to Sanctuary Collective for this time:

“I do not know what tomorrow holds but I do know this: I am so glad to be huddled in the upper room with you right now, scared and supporting each other. And I cannot wait to burst out tomorrow full of unstoppable hope that love wins and that even the world’s most powerful empire cannot defeat us.”

This also reminds me of another quote from Audre Lorde: "You need to reach down and touch the thing that’s boiling inside of you and make it somehow useful." We need to use whatever is inside of us, whatever provides us with that spark of inspiration and energy to work with others to provide hope for other people. As Harvey Milk said: “Hope will never be silent.” Neither can we be silent if we are looking to work for our collective liberation and looking to provide hope to inspire others to do the work as well.

Hope is eternal. Hope is a gift that has been given to us by God so that we can imagine a new world and work to make that new world real. Hope gives us strength and courage and conviction. Hope helps to energize us and keep us going. So please my siblings, find hope and hold onto it. Seize it in your hands and never let it go. It may be tempting to give up, but we need to continue on so that we can create a new and better world: the Kindom of God.

Let us pray:

Divine Parent, we thank you for the Gift of Hope. Please help each of us to find that Hope You have placed within us and use it to help bring Your Kindom into being. May we be a support for each other as we continue in the holy work of bringing Your Justice into the world. Help us to not only feel Hope, but to know it and make it a part of ourselves. These times are hard, but we have Hope that things can get better.

In Your Holy Name. Amen.

And let the church say, AMEN!

RIC Sermon 2024

Here is the sermon I gave today at CTS' RIC Sunday service. Well, more or less, I made a few edits here and there, but this is basically it.

-------------------

"The Spirit of Exalted YHWH is upon me for YHWH has anointed me: God has sent me to bring good news to those who are poor; to heal broken hearts; to proclaim release to those held captive and liberation to those in prison; to announce a year of favor from YHWH, and the day of God’s vindication; to comfort all who mourn, to provide for those who grieve in Zion–to give them a wreath of flowers instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of tears, a cloak of praise instead of despair. They will be known as trees of integrity, planted by YHWH to display God’s glory.” - Isaiah 61:1-3, Inclusive Bible

Welcome and well-come to the 2024 Reconciling in Christ service at Christ the Servant in Gaithersburg, MD.

I’m going to be frank. The world sucks right now. Just look around and you’ll know exactly what I am talking about. Since we last celebrated RIC Sunday, Israel and Hamas have gone to war, laws have been passed to control the bodies of pregnant and trans people, the world has experienced an increasing number of natural disasters made worse by climate change, and oh so much more. If you stopped there, it would be almost impossible to continue to exist in the world.

But we can’t stop there. When I was looking at the readings to prepare this sermon, I noticed a thread I don’t think I had noticed before. That thread is a glimpse of hope into the future. A way of looking at the world and imagining a new world, a better world than the one we live in. A world where two Mexican-American boys can meet in 1987 El Paso, Texas, fall in love, and discover the mysteries of the universe together in the palms of each other’s hands. A world where a fat girl in 1962 Baltimore can become a part of a big local show and work against racism and fatphobia. A world where a non-binary person in North Carolina can be kicked out of their parents’ house on a freezing cold night and eventually discover friendship, love, acceptance, and how to trust people once again thanks to the boy next door. A world where a Mormon missionary from Pocatello, Idaho can meet a party boy in Los Angeles and discover the importance of love and a chosen family. A world where a girl from San Francisco can discover she is a princess of a small European country and eventually become its queen. A world where a girl from Edgewater, Indiana works with her principal and a group of Broadway actors to bring about an inclusive prom for kids from all over the state after she is excluded from her school’s prom while helping her closeted girlfriend come out to her mom. A world where a surfer who has given up on his life and his art has his hope rekindled thanks to the love of another surfer who happens to be his best friend’s brother. And I can keep going. Each of these scenarios I mentioned is a one (or two) sentence summary of a movie or book that asks us to imagine a new world and gives us hope that such a world is in fact possible.

When talking with a member of CTS last summer, I was told that they did not have the faith in humans that I do. I think I should clarify something, I am something of a cynical person, I am a queer, non-binary person who survived a cult when I was growing up and then managed to avoid a second when I was in college. I am not starry eyed when it comes to how awful humans can be. But, I have also seen how truly wonderful humans can be and how we can dream and yearn for a better world. I have seen people inspire others with their visions of a better world and bring forth movements who work in unison to make the world better even if the odds against them seem to be insurmountable.

In today’s first reading, we see the expansiveness and capaciousness of God’s Love and Mercy. Isaiah tells us how God says that “my house will be called a house of prayer for all peoples!” Not just one particular group of people, but all people. Likewise, in Acts, Peter has a dream where God is telling him that nothing, *NOTHING*, God makes is unclean or profane. How everything God makes is worthy of love and respect. Both readings also ask us to look to a future where ideas like “unclean” or “profane” are no longer applied to God’s creation. They ask us to imagine a time when made up human ideas no longer divide us and we work to make us all truly one. Such a world is not easy to imagine and it is even harder to implement. But I believe that such a world is possible and is well worth imagining.

And then there is the gospel. In the gospel reading today, much of how the world thinks is turned on its head. We are told to treat all people, even those we consider our enemies, with love and compassion and respect. The gospel does not command us to submit meekly to abuse, as so many people want to interpret it. Rather it asks us to look at the world with a new set of eyes. A set of eyes that see all people as people, that sees them as worthy of simple human dignity and respect. Not because we always agree with them, but because they are human beings and all human beings are deserving of love and respect simply because they are human beings. I’m not saying this is easy to do cause it’s not. But it is a part of creating a new world for all people, regardless of any differences that we may have.

This new world, this world where people can simply exist, a world where people can love who they love, and where all are truly free from oppression, hatred, and violence, seems to be a distant dream, a nirvana, something unattainable, or (forgive the pun) a world away. I’m not going to pretend that this new world is as easy as a finger snap or a wink or a blink. But we have briefly seen glimpses of this possible future over the last several years. The new world was never fully realized, but it started to peek through before hatred began to push back. And that gives me hope. That is a Hope that I cling to. It is one of two constants in my life that allows me to continue to exist in and move through the world (the other being God’s Love). If I did not have this Hope, I am not sure what I would do.

The prelude that Polly and Florence played today is the song “Hands” by Jewel. The first verse and chorus goes: “If I could tell the world just one thing it would be that we're all ok. And not to worry 'cause worry is wasteful and useless in times like these. I won't be made useless, won't be idle with despair, will gather myself around my faith for light does the darkness most fear. My hands are small, I know, but they're not yours, they are my own. But they're not yours, they are my own, and I am never broken.” Here too, we are urged to not give up and not give into despair or hopelessness. We are urged to see our hands, however small they may be, as our own hands and as tools we can use for liberatory purposes and to build a new world. 

I want to close by reading an excerpt from the book Aristotle and Dante Dive Into the Waters of the World that does a good job talking about this new world, albeit from a different perspective. In this scene, Aristotle and Dante are holding hands looking at a picture called The Raft of the Medusa and Aristotle is remembering the lessons he has learned and the people he has met who have influenced his life:

“I felt him take my hand in his, a hand that held all the secrets of the universe, a hand I would never let go until I memorized each and every line of his palm. I looked up at the painting, the survivors of a shipwreck, fighting the waves of a storm, struggling to get back to the shore, where life was waiting for them. I knew why I loved that painting. I was on that raft. Dante was on that raft. My mother and Dante’s mom and dad and Cassandra and Susie and Gina and Danny and Julio and Mr. Blocker. And Mrs. Livermore and Mrs. Alvidrez, they were on that raft too. And those who had died too soon—my dad and my aunt Ophelia and Cassandra’s brother, and Emma’s son and Rico, and Camila, all the lost people that the world had thrown away—they were there with us on that raft, and their dreams and desires too. And if the raft collapsed, we would dive into the waters of that stormy sea—and swim our way to shore. We had to make it to shore for Sophocles and all the newly arrived citizens of the world. We had learned that we were all connected, and we were stronger than any storm, and we would make it back to the shores of America—and when we arrived, we would throw out the old maps that took us to violent places filled with hate, and the new roads we mapped would take all of us to places and cities we’d never dreamed of. We were the cartographers of the new America. We would map out a new nation. Yes, we were stronger than the storm. We wanted so much to live. We would make it to the shore with or without this ragged, broken raft. We were in this world, and we were going to fight to stay in it. Because it was ours. And one day the word “exile” would be no more. I didn’t care what was going to happen to Dante and me in the future. What we had was that moment, and right then, I didn’t want or need anything else. I thought of everything we had been through and all the things we had taught each other—and how we could never unlearn those lessons because they were the lessons of the heart, the heart learning to understand that strange and familiar and intimate and inscrutable word “love.” Dante turned away from the painting and faced me. I turned to face him, too. I’d missed his smile. Such a simple thing, a smile. “Kiss me,” I said. “No,” he said, “you kiss me.” And so I kissed him. I didn’t ever want to stop kissing him. But we couldn’t kiss forever. “You know,” I whispered, “I was going to ask you to marry me. But they won’t let us do that. So I thought maybe it was best just to skip the wedding and get straight to the honeymoon.” “Have you decided where you’d take me?” “Yes,” I said. “I thought I’d take you to Paris. We’ll spend our time writing our names on the map of the city of love.””

Familia de mi corazon, may we always work for justice and to make a better world. May we never tire of bringing a new world into being and may we always know we can find rest in the Love and Mercy of God. May we find our inspiration to work for this new world, this better world, this loving world, so that we can continue on. And may we never lose faith that this new world is possible, even if the odds do not seem to be in our favor.

And let the church say,

 “AMEN!”

Sermon at the Pride Prayer Service- June 16, 2022

Welcome to Christ the Servant’s Pride Prayer Service 2022. The past couple of years have been really rough for everyone, especially for those of us in the queer community. Although we have seen signs of hope and progress, we are in the midst of a deep and brutal backlash against the strides we have made. From “Don’t Say Gay” laws to laws banning trans children from playing on the proper sports team to bathroom bills to laws making it harder for trans people to change paperwork to fit their true genders, there has been a full-on legal assault on queer people. In the face of all of this hatred and bigotry, it can be all too easy to fall into bitterness, hatred, and a desire for revenge. But there is another path we can choose.

In the reading we read tonight, we heard how God desires us to react when faced with evil. We are not to react with evil, we should not “repay evil with evil.” As verse 21 says, “Don’t be overcome by evil, but overcome evil by doing good.” This doesn’t mean that we should just lie there while evil is happening, it doesn’t mean that we should just let evil happen. It means that we need to show people love even if they are not doing the same to us.

We are called to proclaim when evil is taking place, we are called to confront it and we are called to do what we can to protect others. But confronting evil doesn’t mean that we need to be evil ourselves. While there is such a thing as holy anger, there is a difference between confronting evil and using anger to promote justice and allowing anger to overtake you and use you.

What we must always remember is that there is a person who is spouting bigotry and hatred. And as a person, they are worthy of a certain level of love and respect. We don’t need to agree with them, but we do need to love them because they are people and all people are worthy of love and respect. It isn’t easy, believe me, I know. It is really, really hard sometimes because our inclination as humans is to strike back and strike back hard. We want to make other people hurt after they have hurt us or after they have hurt those we love. But we are called to do things differently. We are called to do our best to share God’s Love with all people, especially those who we may feel don’t deserve it. 

Another place we see this is in the Beatitudes. There we see Jesus’ Love ethic in action. We see Jesus taking the world and its hierarchies and turning them on their head. We see Jesus blessing those who are disadvantaged, those who have been mistreated, and those who are outcast. Tonight’s reading is an extension of this Love ethic. This call to reflect the Love that God has for us to the whole world to see is a radical reunderstanding of the world. Rather than following the rules and understandings that the world has laid out, we need to embody the Love of God for the world.

Another place we see this idea? The Parable of the Good Samaritan. This famous parable is about a man who takes care of someone who is a member of a group that his people are enemies with. The question Jesus answers with this parable is “Who is my neighbor?” and the answer is everyone. Anyone who is human is our neighbor and is someone we need to care about and who we need to love. I’m not saying that if we just love people, we will magically change their hearts and we don’t love other people for our own sakes. We love people because God asks it of us and we do it because they are worthy of love because they exist. Whether that person is the immigrant coming for asylum, the trans child who is trying to just live their life, the person suffering from food or housing insecurity, or the bigot who is trying to take away others’ rights, they are all worthy of love simply because they exist.

When we say that God Loves all people, we mean that She Loves all people. All means all. It is not for us to try and limit God’s Love anymore than it is up to fundamentalist Christians to do it. God’s Love is freely given to all people simply because they are people. As I said, I know this is not easy, in fact it is something I personally often really struggle with. Giving into anger can feel cathartic and can often be the path of least resistance. But focusing on the humanity of the person you are talking to? That can be really, really hard, particularly when they don’t treat you as a person.

So go forth, confront evil and spread God’s Love to the whole world. Be a beacon of light for the world to see. Embody the Love of God and Their Holy Anger. Work for justice and peace with love.  

Sermon at the Pride Service at Rockville United Church, June 12, 2022

I was given the opportunity to preach at Rockville United Church on Sunday, June 12, 2022 for their Pride service. Here is the text for that sermon. If you'd like to see the video, please click here. Do note, it's about 23 minutes long, so longer than anything I've done in the past.

----------------------------------------

Welcome and well come to Rockville United Church on this Trinity Sunday. Before I begin, I wanted to thank Pastors Scott and Jennifer for allowing me to preach today, Janine for reaching out to invite me, and to everyone present here whether you are physically in the sanctuary or online. I appreciate you taking the time to listen to what I have to say.

  
Since I’m sure some of you may wonder about my greeting, allow me to explain it. “Welcome” (1 word) means just what it says: You are welcome here in this place. “Well come” (2 words) means that it is well; or good; that you have come here. It is a greeting meaning “You are welcome in this place, and it is good that you are here with us.” 

To start, I want to tell you a story. After I talked with Pastor Scott about preaching here today, I sent him a list with three readings that we might use today. Each reading had a theme and hymn suggestion along with it. When I visited here a couple of weeks ago, Pastor Scott told me that no one had done that before and I responded that I am that person. You know, the person who will really prepare for everything and do so as far in advance as possible. When I was telling some members of my church family this story, each of them had virtually the same response. They were all something along the lines of “Yeah, that sounds like you.” And that is part of what makes us a family. People who know you well enough that they can predict what you will or will not do. 

It is a truism that humans are, by nature, social animals. We tend to seek out other people so that we can maintain a connection outside of ourselves, to find someone to help us when we are in trouble, or to find someone that we can help. For much of history, the family has been the most basic social group that has existed. Whether it be parents and their children or whole generations living together, the family has been an important part of various societies. 

Depending on where you live, a family name may very well completely influence the life you lead. Think about America today. We have families whose members are famous for no other reason than their family name. The Kennedy’s, the Bush’s, the Kardashians,’ and other families have a national importance that has outlasted the people who made the name famous in the first place. If you look on a local level, I am sure you can think of other families in your area whose name carries a weight that maybe it shouldn’t because the family did something great in the past. 

In Biblical times, the family name was more important than it is now. Think of the genealogies in Matthew and Luke tracing Jesus’ lineage back to Abraham (Matthew) or Adam (Luke). Think of the division of Israel into tribes based on which son of Israel they were descended from. Your lineage could determine your position in life, what types of jobs you could have, where you lived, and many other facets of your life. 

In today’s reading, we see the family of Jesus wanting to take him into their custody because they believed that he "had lost his mind” (Mark 3:21) and the religious leaders said that “He is possessed by Beelzebul,” and, “He casts out demons through the ruler of demons.” (Mark 3:22). So, when his family came to take possession of him and he was told that they were waiting outside, Jesus’ response was to ask the rhetorical question: “Who is my mother? Who is my family?” He then responded to the question with “This is my family! Anyone who does the will of God, that person is my sister, my brother, my mother.” (Mark 3:33-35) 

In this passage, Jesus is laying out the idea of what we now call “the chosen family.”  It is a family, not of blood or a legality such as adoption (hereafter termed “biological family” for convenience’s sake), but of a bond that exists due to common beliefs or characteristics. If you think about it, most people form chosen families. Some arise from necessity because people have been rejected by their biological families. Others arise because people have beliefs that cause them to drift from their biological family, so they seek out a family that shares these beliefs. Or a chosen family may form because people are far away from home and need a support system around them. 

For those of us in the queer community, the chosen family is all too often formed because of the first reason given above: rejection by the biological family. All too often, our families reject us because they see us as “making a choice” that they disagree with. Or maybe they don’t understand or respect our gender identity, name, or some other aspect of our lives that is not “normal”.  So we seek out others like us, people who can understand the particular struggles we face, the issues that society presents us with, or can commiserate with us when we face the prejudices that all too often face us when we exist in the world as who we truly are rather than as the world wishes us to be. 

As we see in this passage, Jesus is explicitly embracing the idea that there exists the idea of a familial bond that goes beyond the bond of blood. He embraces the idea that working together to fulfill the will of God can be a bond that forms a family. These bonds of love and belief need to be understood through the lens of the special love Jesus had for those who were marginalized or outcast. Throughout the Gospels, we see Jesus taking special care for people who the society of the time had rejected: lepers, Samaritans, prostitutes, and tax collectors to name a few. Jesus was explicit in claiming these people as a part of the Kindom of God: a kindom not of power, but of Love. 

God’s Love is a notion that is central to the Bible. In the Gospels, Jesus talks of how God’s love is meant to encompass all people, regardless of their societal status. They embrace and protect those who were cast out of society. This call for a love that embraces all people regardless of what society says was, quite probably, one of Jesus’ most radical teachings. 

In many ways, this sort of love asks us to go against our nature as human beings. If you think about it, because we are social animals, we form groups and tend to see the world as “us vs. them.”  We see those outside our group as a threat to us, which may or may not be true. The more deeply we hold to the beliefs that bind our group together, the more threatened we will feel by other groups. But if we take Jesus’ call for an all-embracing love into account, we will embrace all people, even those we disagree with or feel threatened by. This doesn’t mean that we have to like them or what they do, but we are called to see them as fellow children of God and to love and respect them as such. 

Years ago, I read a book called Catholic & Christian by Peter Kreeft. In it, he talks about how there are three Greek words for love in the Bible: eros, philea, and agape. (I have since discovered there is a fourth: storge.)  I want to focus on agape. Peter Kreeft defined agape as a perfect, self-giving love. Agape does not depend on sentiment or how we feel at the time. It is a love that seeks to help others, that sees that others have worth simply because they are, that does not depend on how we are feeling at the moment. It is not a warm blanket that we can wrap ourselves in. It is not that fuzzy feeling you get when you see someone attractive. It is love in action. It is love that gives because it can, not because a reward is being sought. It can be small and seemingly insignificant, or it can be large and world changing. 

Agape is often the cement that holds a chosen family together. We love and support each other, not because we have to, but because we choose to love and support each other. We have all been through similar experiences of having to reconcile who we are with who the world tells us we should be. We have all experienced the rejection (or fear of rejection) that comes along with the journey of self-discovery that we embark on so that we can live our lives as our authentic selves. While the particulars of our situations are different, the broad strokes are similar enough for all of us to be bound together in bonds of love and support. 

The bonds that form a chosen family go beyond just similar beliefs and experiences. They can also include a shared interest. In the show Pose and the documentary Paris is Burning, we see how important chosen family could be to people who were not only not only gay/lesbian and/or transgender, but also Black or Latinx. In the ballroom culture, Houses had a parent who would serve as protectors of and mentors for young members of the House who had no other family. These families were born of necessity due to society rejecting people who transgressed societal norms. Within both these Houses and the underground ball culture, people were free to be themselves in a place of safety and support.

 
While the chosen family is of particular importance to the queer community, it has spread to the wider world. One example is “Friends-giving,” when people celebrate Thanksgiving, not with their biological family, but with friends who they feel particularly close to. In other words, this is another form of a chosen family. If you look at many teen dramas, they also have some form of chosen family taken place. For example, in Dawson’s Creek, not only is there the wider chosen family of the entire group of friends, but Jen, Grams, and Jack form their own chosen family after Jack is rejected by his father after coming out. Even though Jack and his father eventually reconcile, the bonds he forms with Jen and Grams are the strongest and most durable in his life, to the point where he calls Jen his “soulmate” in the series finale. 

The most important part about a chosen family is that it is “chosen” rather than being assigned to us. It is not a family we have out of obligation, but one we pick for ourselves and is based on bonds of love and affection. With our biological families, we often feel obligated to support each other because that is what we are “supposed to do” rather than because we want to. With a chosen family, on the other hand, we have people around us who we have made the explicit choice to make a part of our lives. These sorts of chosen bonds can be some of the strongest bonds that exist because they are based on a conscious decision rather than being forced on us. 

When I was growing up, I was part of a cult called the Mother of God Community. Being a part of this Community was an integral part of who I was, and my entire identity was centered around it. Any other aspect of my life, including being a part of the Catholic Church, was subordinated to my identity as a member of the Community. When the Community came crashing down in the summer between my junior and senior years of high school, it caused me to have an identity crisis because I had never developed a sense of self that did not depend on the Community. Subsequently, I latched onto a couple of other groups to substitute for the Community as a part of my identity. Eventually, I realized that these groups were no better for me than the Community had been. 

After college, when I realized that I was queer, I was thrown into another identity crisis. The religious beliefs I had grown up with conflicted with this part of me that I had tried to deny or get rid of, but eventually had to accept lest I risk causing myself more damage than I had already done. In the end, I ended up leaving the Catholic Church because I needed to find out who I was apart from any group. A few years later, after I had discovered an identity that did not depend on someone else (I was 36 at this point), I decided to find a church that was affirming.  And so, I found my current church, Christ the Servant Lutheran Church in Gaithersburg, MD. 

In this church, I found a chosen family that was truly healthy and good for all. We are bound together by the bonds of love for each other and the community around us, “regardless of sex, race, national origin, sexual orientation, gender identity, physical and mental ability, age, or anything else that too often divides us.” (http://www.ctslutheranelca.org/about/)  Because the church accepted me and allowed me to be who I am without judgment, I was, for the first time, able to connect with the local queer community and meet more people to be a part of my chosen family. 

I say this not to boost myself or my church, but to illustrate the complete and utter necessity of familial bonds, even if they are not bonds of blood or legality. Over the last several years, there have been numerous young members of the queer community who have been rejected by their family and then committed suicide because they felt alone and isolated. When someone does not have other strong bonds and their biological family rejects them, they are much more likely to commit suicide. With the advent of social media and the greater interconnectedness that accompanies it, the percentage of queer teens who commit suicide has trended slightly downward because there has been more acceptance, but the rate of queer youth committing suicide (or contemplating it) is still well above that of non-queer youth. (https://www.webmd.com/sex-relationships/news/20200210/fewer-lgbt-teens-plagued-by-suicidal-thoughts-but-rates-still-high#1)

 
As a church, we are called to meet and embrace those who are in the margins because that is where God is in a special way. There’s a song from the Broadway play Dear Evan Hansen which says “There’s a place where you don’t have to feel unknown and every time you call out, you’re a little less alone. If you only say the word, from across the silence, your voice is heard.” And that, my dearest siblings, describes a church like nothing else does, or rather, a church as it should be. The form of the church, if you will. It is a place where you don’t have to feel alone because you are in community with people. A place where you don’t have to feel unknown, because you are known by God and by the people of your church. A place where you can cry out and be heard. A place where you can ask for help and it will be given or ask for support and know it is there without question. A church should be a shelter for those who need rest and protection. A place where we can come and bask in the glorious love and support of those around us. A place where we can simply be. That is what the church is called to be. A church is another form of a chosen family. 

In the Bible, Jesus calls us to love each other and to care for each other, regardless of whether or not we are related by blood (see the Parable of the Good Samaritan). Having a chosen family is just one way we can do that. Through this family, we can support each other, cheer each other on, uplift those who need to be uplifted, and have a connection outside ourselves that is based on love, not obligation. 

Reconciling in Christ Sermon 2022

If you would like to hear the sermon, please go here.

---------------------

Welcome and well come to CTS on this Reconciling in Christ Sunday 2022. Before I start, I wanted to explain the meaning of the opening. I’ve had a few people ask me about it, so I figured I’d explain it. “Welcome” (1 word) means just what it says: You are welcome here in this place. “Well come” (2 words) means that it is well; or good; that you have come here. It is a greeting meaning “You are welcome in this place, and it is good that you are here with us.”

I’m sure, given the readings, you are probably expecting me to preach on my favorite topic: Love. And you would not be entirely wrong. But what I am hoping to do today is approach it from a slightly different angle than I normally do. What I want to focus on today is the Gospel today. Specifically, I want to focus on the second half of the Gospel where Jesus says “Let the children alone — let them come to me. The kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.” I don’t know about you, but when I was growing up this was always talked about as meaning that since we are all children of God, we are intended to be like little children who are supposed to be obedient and eager to please. Now, although I don’t have children myself, I have been around them enough to know that not all children are like this. In fact, I’d wager that most children aren’t. Yes, little children seek approval, but all too often, they question everything (there’s a reason why the question “Why?” and the accompanying “Because I said so!” are so cliché!) and do things their own way. The point? This is a bad way to understand this quote from Jesus.

I think a better way to understand it is to look at a different aspect of being a child. Think of that old saw: “Children should be seen and not heard.” I’m sure we’ve all heard it at least once in our lives. It’s the idea that children don’t know enough, or children aren’t important enough to speak or to have input into things that are going on. Rather, they should just be grateful that they are allowed to be around (after all, we could just banish them from our presence!) and shouldn’t ask for anything more. This attitude is something that pervades our society is so many different ways. We don’t just act this way about children, we also treat many marginalized groups in the same way. Whether it be women, Black people, queer people, disabled people, immigrants, or any other groups asking for equal rights, we keep hearing about how they should be quiet and be grateful for what they have. When Black people have marched peacefully for equal rights, they are ignored or attacked. When they take stronger action, they are asked why they don’t ask peacefully. When women look for equal pay for equal work, they are told that they are being pushy and should be happy they are working. When disabled people ask for equal access to facilities, they are told that giving them equal access makes other people’s lives inconvenient and it is too expensive. When immigrants come seeking a better life that the United States advertises, they are told that they need to wait in a very long line and denied many basic human benefits that the US offers while being forced to subsidize these benefits for other people.

Another group that is marginalized and attacked in some horrific ways are trans people. In 2021 alone, 37 states considered 110 bills to restrict the rights of trans people, particularly trans youth. There have been bills to deny trans children the opportunity to be a part of sports teams according to their gender, bills to give bounties to people who feel that a trans person has “stolen” their spot on a sports team, bills to deny trans people the opportunity to use the restroom that is in accord with their gender, bills to punish parents who follow medical advice and allow their children to transition, and so much more. There are “gender critical” (i.e., transphobic) people out there every day harassing and bullying trans people (or anyone perceived to be trans) on social media and in person, sometimes leading to someone ending their life rather than continue to suffer from the abuse. We have churches which have punished members for daring to think or say that maybe, just maybe, God cares for trans people in the same way She cares for other people. We have people using Jesus as justification for their hatred and bigotry (although, that is nothing new). We have people suing in court because they follow transphobic “logic” and claim that a trans person “stole” a prize or ribbon that is “rightfully” theirs.

I could go on in that vein, but there’s so much more. In 2021 there were at least 50 trans or gender non-conforming people killed. The number is likely much higher than that because victims are often misgendered, which makes it harder to get an accurate count. This violence is often aimed at trans women of color. In fact, a lot of anti-trans rhetoric has its roots in misogyny and patriarchy. If you think about it, a lot of the rhetoric is aimed at trans women and children and the idea that they need special “protection”. The idea animating this is that women are weak and need to be protected by big, strong men. Or the idea that children can’t know their sexuality or gender orientation (unless of course they are cisgender and/or straight, which is “normal”) because they’re “too young” or “too innocent” as if being queer or trans is something that is pathological or that people need to be protected from. I could go on in this vein for some time, but I want to get back to the Gospel message.

So, if we follow the idea that this quote from Jesus: “Let the children alone — let them come to me. The kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.” then I would argue that the “children” here are any marginalized people. As a church, we are called to meet and embrace those who are in the margins because that is where God is in a special way. There’s a song from the Broadway play Dear Evan Hansen which says “There’s a place where you don’t have to feel unknown and every time you call out, you’re a little less alone. If you only say the word, from across the silence, your voice is heard.” And that, my dearest siblings, describes a church like nothing else, or rather, a church as it should be. The form of the church, if you will. It is a place where you don’t have to feel alone because you are in community with people. A place where you don’t have to feel unknown, because you are known by God and by the people of your church. A place where you can cry out and be heard. A place where you can ask for help and it will be given or ask for support and know it is there without question. A church should be a shelter for those who need rest and protection. A place where we can come and bask in the glorious love and support of those around us. A place where we can simply be. That is what the church is called to be.

So, on this RIC Sunday, I ask you to look for anyone who may need rest, support, or love and reach out to them. Let someone know that you are there for them, that they are seen, that they are heard, and that they are loved. It can be hard to ask for help and even harder to get support in this time of COVID, which makes it especially important that we love and support each other. As it said in today’s reading from 1 John: “If we love God, we should love our siblings as well; we have this commandment from God.” Or as it says in I Corinthians: “There are, in the end, three things that last: faith, hope, and love. But the greatest of these is love.” So go and love. Love fearlessly. Love joyfully. Be a part of that Love which abides no borders because it knows no borders. May they know we are Christians by our love.

Let us pray: Divine Parent, Maker and Lover of all. We ask You to help us know how we can be there for those who are marginalized by society. May we be inspired to share your Love with everyone we meet. May our love for You and for all Your creation lead us to be there for all people.

Let the church say: Amen!

Pride Prayer Service

Tonight (June 23, 2021), my church had its (hopefully) first Pride Prayer Service. I spoke (call it a sermon, a message, or whatever) briefly. Below is what I said.

You can listen to the sermon here. The audio is a little different from the written because I always make minor edits along the way as I read it out loud.

-------------------

Welcome and well come to Christ the Servant for our 2021 Pride Prayer service. When I was first thinking about what I wanted to say tonight, I was going to talk about Pride and its importance. However, about a week and a half ago, I heard a line in a tv show that gave me something to really think about and I wanted to offer some thoughts. The show is Love, Victor and the line is, “I’m not giving up on God. I’m giving up on you.”

Before I talk about the line, here is a little background. Love, Victor is a tv show set in the same high school as 2018’s Love, Simon. In the first season of the show, Victor; a Latino high school student; slowly comes to grips with the fact that he is gay. The first season ends with him saying, “Mom and Dad, I’m gay.” His dad is surprisingly good about adjusting, but his very religious mother Isabel has a much harder time. And this is not helped by a homophobic priest who tells her that Victor will not know God’s Love. When the priest says this same thing to Adrian, Victor’s younger brother, Isabel confronts him. She has managed to mostly start her journey of acceptance and affirmation, and she tells the priest that she and God both love Victor. She then quits her position at the church and the priest tells her not to give up on God. That is when she utters my favorite line of the season: “I’m not giving up on God. I’m giving up on you.”

See, queer people who are religious have heard this line or something like it so many times before. We are told that we are dirty, unclean, perverted, unloved, and damned to perdition merely because we are who we are. We are told that we are choosing a lifestyle that is antithetical to the Bible and that God will reject us. We are told that we cannot be a part of the church. Some churches will “accept” us, so long as we are quiet about who we are and don’t cause “scandal”. Some churches outright refuse to let us be members, fearing that we will “corrupt” people and lead them away from God.

But here’s the thing: Those of us who choose to stay in churches, particularly affirming churches, aren’t rejecting God. We are rejecting the organizations that reject us. We are rejecting the teachings that tell us that we are less than others or that we are second-class citizens. We know that God’s Love is all inclusive. We know that God Loves us all wholly and completely. We have faith that God, who is the Parent to all of us, will be there for us even if our biological or religious families reject us.

As we heard in the letter to the Ephesians: “You are included in God’s holy place and are members of the household of God.” Or as it says in Romans 8:38-39: “For I am certain that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, neither heights nor depths—nor anything else in all creation—will be able to separate us from the love of God that comes to us in Christ Jesus, our Savior.”

God’s love is whole, complete, and unconditional. We cannot earn it, we do not need to earn it, it just is. God loves us, not because She has to, but because They choose to. God made us all and made us just the way He wanted us to be. Whether that is gay, straight, lesbian, bi, pan, or asexual, whether that is trans, cis, non-binary, or agender, or any of the other glorious and beautiful possibilities that I may not have mentioned, you are a child of God, created by God, loved by God, and perfect just as you are. Know that, feel that, and accept that. And if you need to hear it, just let me know. I’ll say it again: you are a child of God, created by God, loved by God, and perfect just as you are.

If you’re an ally, please make sure that all of the queer people in your life know this and hear this often. When there is a world telling us how much of a burden we are, how twisted we are, how unnatural and corrupted we are, we need to hear from people who know that that is just not true. And don’t just mouth the words, make sure they are known through actions and deeds. If you see people spouting homophobic or transphobic things, say something. If you see someone who is queer struggling with being accepted because of who they are, show them that they are loved. Actions speak much louder than words and are more readily remembered.

If you are queer, know that there are churches who will accept and affirm you because of who you are. Not in spite of it, but because of it. You are beautiful, colorful flowers in the garden of life that God has made. Your queerness is sacred, it is holy. It is a part of you and you are sacred and holy too. Know that even if there are churches which reject you, God does not reject you. God Loves you and wants you to live a whole and complete life. That is Pride. Living who you are to the best of your ability. If there is someone out there who is queer, even if we don’t know it, know that you are loved. Know that you are a part of a community that will embrace you and help you and love you. It can be messy at times, but that’s family. That’s community.

So remember that line: “I’m not giving up on God. I’m giving up on you.” Remember that giving up on homophobic churches doesn’t mean giving up on God. It means giving up on structures or organizations or people who hurt you. Come to know the loving embrace of God. Come to know all the love that is there. Above all, know this: you are a child of God, created by God, loved by God, and perfect just as you are.

Amen.