Good Friday Meditation

Willamette River, 2017

The following is the meditation I shared at St. Andrew Lutheran tonight at the Good Friday service.  We did the seven last words of Jesus, and my passage was the Luke 23:32-34 below.

Luke 23:32-34 (NRSV): Two others also, who were criminals, were led away to be put to death with him. When they came to the place that is called The Skull, they crucified Jesus there with the criminals, one on his right and one on his left. Then Jesus said, “Father, forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing. And they cast lots to divide his clothing.

Today I took a walk and strode past sleeping bodies on park benches and in doorways. I averted my eyes, ashamed and overwhelmed by the sheer number of people who need help. I saw one man from the other side of the street while he wiped away several tears.

Today I read the headlines of cruelty against so many people here and around the world. More than I can count. More than I can handle. I don’t even know what to do with my outrage and powerlessness, my fatigue and my broken hearted-ness.

Today, in this service, we hear about the death of a man who, in his ministry, really saw people. Jesus looked into the eyes of each one, whether they lay on the street begging, or sat in a house of power counting money and influence. He fully saw all of their joys and hopes, their sins and their sorrows. And he loved them all. Even those he confronted. He loved them all, and they crucified him for it.

Today I think about all of the people I don’t see, don’t want to see, or don’t want to forgive. I haven’t forgiven those who drive the wheel that generates the conditions of poverty and homelessness, those who seek war instead of peace, those who say a harsh word, or those who are cruel bullies. I don’t even want to forgive myself for, without a word, sliding past the homeless man hiding from the rain in my doorway the other day.

I am so angry and heartbroken with our world, which continues to crucify to this day. Yet, even as Jesus was crucified with criminals, Jesus forgives. He sees, and he loves those who called for his death. Our God is compassionate. Our God forgives, restoring relationships and wholeness, even to my enemies, even to me.

May God forgive us all, for we don’t know all of the ways we participate in the violence and sin of the world. Forgive us, restore us, and guide us. Amen.

Christmas Letter, 2017

To my beloved Friends and Family,

Wishing you a beautiful holiday season, and all that is good and joyful in 2017! I’m grateful for each of you.  I write this on the day that the Electoral College voted, and I know that on my letter list are many who are mourning, and some who are glad.  But we are all part of the human family together, and even if we disagree, I’m glad we are connected.

One of the reasons I decided to write a Christmas letter again this year is because I think it is important for us to stay connected – to tell our stories, find common ground, and build up our communities.  We are all in this life together.  So I’m going to tell a little of my story of the last year, and would love to hear your stories too.  I’d love a letter, or email, or maybe a chance to catch up over coffee or drinks. 

This year, I really enjoyed diving into some of my passions.  I have continued to take trapeze classes.  Sometimes I have to remind myself that I am 41 and half my class is half my age, and many are bendier, stronger, and bounce back more quickly. But no matter if I ever advance to the next level of classes, trapeze is a great joy in my life.  I love growing stronger, being in the air, facing my fears, and getting to know fabulous people, including my teachers and classmates.  If folks in town are ever interested in checking it out, I love Night Flight, where I attend: nightflightaerial.com

Another passion of mine is advocacy for those affected by HIV, and busting stigma.  I just started my third year serving on the Board of Directors at Cascade AIDS Project and am learning so much and meeting tons of great people! I really enjoy getting to dress up for events like the Art Auction (pictured on my card, with my friend Darren picking me up), and hitting the town with a big team for AIDS Walk Portland.  I’m fired up to get an even bigger team for AIDS Walk in 2017!  Many of you on this list have volunteered, walked with me or donated, and I’m forever grateful!  AND it is thrilling that we are going to broaden our services as we open an LGBTQ health clinic! (LGBTQ stands for Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, and Queer or Questioning). If you’re interested, you can read more about our future clinic and services at www.cascadeaids.org  I have met so many amazing people volunteering for CAP, and made some lifelong friends.

Oh – a news item! In September, I moved again!  But this time I bought a place, so I won’t be moving again any time soon.  Finally! This is probably of great relief to the friends who have helped me move multiple times over the past few years, including Mark (pictured on my card with me celebrating batman) and Darren, who took time off of work to fight commute traffic and safe spots for my moving truck, since I didn’t have enough notice to get a permit.  Now that’s friendship!

One of the things that keeps me hopping is my volunteer work for ReconcilingWorks, the non-profit that helps Lutheran churches welcome include, and celebrate LGBTQ people.  This is truly rewarding work, and I love getting to go to different churches and provide trainings and get to know people in different parts of the country.  This year I was able to fly to Orlando to co-lead a large training of churches who wanted to take action after the Pulse shooting.  It was a little intimidating for me because I knew that the people in the class were impacted by the violence against LGBT and Latino community members. I was deeply moved by their participation. 

At any of my trainings, I come out to people in presentations as a bisexual trans man, and speak to my experience, while also training them on concepts of hospitality and gender identity. This leads to many interesting questions and great discussions.  I love this work, and all of the people I meet.  And I find it interesting that I’m happy to do public speaking and train large groups, but afraid of other things, like driving in snow and ice, or rain, or curvy roads.  You get the picture. J   If you’re intrigued about a group that works for welcome in churches, we’re at www.reconcilingworks.org

I’m also excited to work on an event that our local ReconcilingWorks chapter is throwing:  a huge community wide service of welcome: January 29^th, West Linn Lutheran Church, 5pm. Our theme is “Building the Beloved Community,” which you may recognize from Martin Luther King Jr’s philosophy.  The music is again going to be awesome, and the service will be followed by a potluck dinner. Food+music+community = winning.  It is one of my favorite events of the year and you’re all invited.  Unless you don’t want to come because it’s church, and that’s totally cool too. J

But the most exciting news didn’t make it until page 2?!!  I had to build the suspense for this one. J  The Lutheran church in Oregon hired me to be an advocate for the LGBTQ community, to listen to people’s stories and hear their experiences with church, and in general.  One of the outcomes is that we have a new little start-up church that meets (for now) in my living room every week.  We named our church “The Flame”.  It is a pretty small group for now, primarily LGBTQ folks and allies.   We meet at 6pm, so we don’t compete with the Sunday brunch hour! J 

Even though I started a church, I still will never try to convert anyone.  It’s not my business what any of you believe.  We don’t have to agree.  Truly.  I think differing opinions and a variety of experiences is beautiful, and I love y’all.

There is so much of my church nerd self that now has expression, it is really pretty fun.  We even got a domain name and are working on our website!  www.theflamepdx.org  is our little baby (thank you, Evan!).  See, I had to list those other links, so that I could casually slip into the letter the web address of our little creation. J

One of our members, Adam Page, painted a logo for our church, pictured to the left, and I love it!  Our vision was that each person, no matter the color, body type, ability, sexual orientation or gender identity, could contribute to the community, and the flame.  Plus, I love rainbows!

Part of this new role with the Lutheran church is that I am on my way (again), to becoming a pastor!  I have 3 classes to do through a distance learning program, one of which I am in now – World Religions.  I have a few other requirements, and then maybe someday in the next year or so, I will be Pastor Leo of The Flame.  Whoa.

You know the little white tab at the neck on the pastor or priest’s shirt?  If I get ordained, I’m totally going to glitterize or bedazzle some of those for the right occasions.  It’s going to be great! I’ll definitely invite all of you to the ordination.

But wait, you say, aren’t I in tech support?  Indeed, it’s true.  I am! I will continue to  work both jobs.  I’m very grateful for my fun job solving problems and working with a great team on software used in the Medical Records department of hospitals at Nuance Communications, and I’m not going to give up a good thing there.  Oh yah – for consistency – that’s at www.nuance.com.

The best part about my day job is the people, and all of the cat pictures that we send to one another. I’ve included an example to the right.  (not my actual cat….) (nuance.com doesn’t actually contain cat pictures) (should I have # these?)

For whatever 2017 brings, may we all hug our loved ones tighter and more often, reach out to help a stranger, reconnect with old friends, and listen to each other’s stories.

I wish you and yours the very best, and may we all find love, joy, peace, and hope.

In gratitude,

~ Leo ~

Thank You Oregon Lutherans!

Rainbow Cross by Adam Page

I'm not sure if this is the right time to post this or not, but here it is.

On June 1st, I started a quarter time position with the Lutheran church to do advocacy for and ministry with the LGBTQIA community.

In the midst of our sorrow and anger, and so much frustration over the silence or bigotry we in the LGBTQIA community often experience from some church people, I wanted to share this small bit of good news.

In this ministry by the Oregon Synod of the Lutheran church (ELCA), I'll be doing some of what I already do now, but with more local focus and support. It is a quarter time position, and I'm on track to be ordained as a pastor after I complete my training. I'm also still working full time in my tech job.

So what will I be doing?

• Exploring the idea of creating a new worshiping community based on inclusion, diversity, justice, and healing,  We will start having one-to-one conversations and small group gatherings to explore the idea of what faith and community mean to us.
• Helping Lutheran churches in Oregon become Reconciling In Christ, which means to be explicitly and publicly welcoming towards people of all sexual orientations, gender identities, and gender expressions.
• Helping Lutheran churches that have already voted to become Reconciling in Christ live out that welcome in real, tangible ways.
• Connecting with and building up the community of leaders to share in this work.  

I am thrilled that the Lutheran church is putting resources into making a real difference in the lives of the LGBTQIA community, especially when our hearts are aching and our faces are wet with tears.  

Have questions, want to be involved, or just chat?  I'd love to hear from you.

For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.
Romans 8:38-39

Finding Leo: Of Love and Pride

My Mom and Me, Pride 2015

This month's PQ Monthly column is posted.

You can see my full list of columns here.

Thank you for reading!

Finding Leo: The Holes In My Heart

Brianna, Merissa, Tosha, and Sheena in 2009

This month's PQ Monthly column is posted:

You can see my full list of my columns here.

Thank you for reading!

Hate Will Not Have The Final Word

photo from Holden Village, 2006

Republican lawmakers in North Carolina on Wednesday pushed through a broad sweeping anti-LGBT bill, removing local ordinances for equal rights based on sexual orientation and gender identity, and mandating that government controlled multi-user bathrooms be restricted to a single sex based on the gender assigned at birth.

It is distressing to have people debate my genitalia and my worth, when all I have to do is pee. More importantly, this law makes the trans community, trans women in particular, even more vulnerable to violence and harassment.

Lawmakers rushed the bill through during Holy Week, when we prepare for Easter Sunday. In multiple states and cities around the country, people are rushing to deny rights to the LGBTQ community, while waving the flag of Christianity.

It makes me sick, and it is not my religion.

On Good Friday, I remembered Jesus, the Son of God, who came to share a message of good news to the poor, release to the captives, recovery of sight to the blind, freedom for those oppressed, and the year of the Lord’s favor. This is how he kicked off his ministry in the gospel of Luke (4:14-21). He spoke against those in power who had set up laws based on ritual purity. Those laws drove people into isolation and onto the margins. Jesus spoke against those laws, and brought people back in who had been made outsiders. He restored relationships by healing individuals and communities.

On Good Friday, Jesus was crucified by those in power because of the threat he presented with his ministry.

On Easter Sunday, we celebrated that death and hate did not have the final word.

On Easter Sunday, we remembered that Jesus preached a message of love, and care for one another, especially for those who are most vulnerable.

Many of us in the LGBTQ community have personally experienced abuse and cruelty at the hands of the church, or Christian family members and friends. Many of us have seen the hate and vitriol come out of our political system in the name of Christian values. Countless members of the LGBT community and our allies have left the church, because it was healthier and safer to leave.

Why would I expect anyone to be a Christian? Why would I even want to admit I am a Christian?

On Easter Sunday, we celebrate that death and hate will not have the final word.

The opponents of Jesus’ message of love, inclusion, and freedom for the oppressed, thought they had won when they nailed him to the cross.

They did not count on the expansiveness of God’s love.

For I am convinced that neither death, nor life, nor angels, nor rulers, nor things present, nor things to come, nor powers, nor height, nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord. Romans 8:38-39

The resurrection of Jesus is a way for us to celebrate this truth. Not even death can separate us from the love of God. Not even a rash of discriminatory legislation. Not even an abusive church, or having left church altogether, will make God stop loving us.

So what does this have to do with North Carolina?

The lawmakers who are governing out of fear and ignorance will not have the last word. Jesus stands in solidarity with the oppressed. Jesus would stand with a sign at the governor’s residence proclaiming, “God loves all LGBTQ peeps.” Jesus would wear a button that says, #Illgowithyou and make sure that trans people have an ally to go to the bathroom in safety. God’s Spirit is active in igniting our hearts to stand with those who face violence, discrimination, and rejection.

We will not let hate win, because God has said “No!” to hate.

This is what I celebrate on Easter Sunday.

Wishing you all a Blessed spring, with a resounding Alleluia that God says “Yes!” to love.

I’m praying you may know love, safety, and the confidence that you are a wonderful child of God.
I’m praying for the freedom to pee, and an end to anti-LGBTQ legislation.
I’m praying for an end to violence against our LGBTQ community, particularly against trans women and people of color.
I’m praying for all who have been kicked out of church, and out of their homes.
I’m praying for all who are oppressed in any way.

With love for you this Easter season,

Leo

I Was There

A view from Holden Village, 2006

[This is my meditation from last night's Good Friday service at St. Andrew Lutheran.  There were seven readers, each with a part of the passion narrative from the Gospel of Luke, sharing from the perspective of one of the witnesses. We began with "I was there"...]

Luke 23:32–43: Two others also, who were criminals, were led away to be put to death with him. When they came to the place that is called The Skull, they crucified Jesus there with the criminals, one on his right and one on his left. Then Jesus said, “Father, forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing.” And they cast lots to divide his clothing. And the people stood by, watching; but the leaders scoffed at him, saying, “He saved others; let him save himself if he is the Messiah of God, his chosen one!”The soldiers also mocked him, coming up and offering him sour wine, and saying, “If you are the King of the Jews, save yourself!” There was also an inscription over him, “This is the King of the Jews.” One of the criminals who were hanged there kept deriding him and saying, “Are you not the Messiah? Save yourself and us!” But the other rebuked him, saying, “Do you not fear God, since you are under the same sentence of condemnation? And we indeed have been condemned justly, for we are getting what we deserve for our deeds, but this man has done nothing wrong.” Then he said, “Jesus, remember me when you come into your kingdom.” He replied, “Truly I tell you, today you will be with me in Paradise.” 

I was there, on the cross next to Jesus. The mood was violent, and the frothing crowd that had yelled, “Give us Barrabas”, and “Crucify him!” craved more. They tried to humiliate Jesus, even as he was dying. I don’t know why they were so angry. Maybe some felt persecuted by the Romans, and some were just caught up in the frenzied rally. They wanted Jesus to feel their shame and impotence, and mocked him with “Save Yourself! Come down from the cross now!”

Jesus didn’t save himself from the cross, but he forgave them. I was so angry at them all. They were so cruel! And he forgave them. What did this Messiah hold within his heart that he could forgive such hatred and violence? I chastised the other criminal for heaping insults along with the rest. Isn’t it enough that he was dying?

I mustered up all of my courage to speak to him. “Jesus,” I said, and was shocked at how intimately I was speaking to this stranger. What should I ask for? He hadn’t saved himself from the cross, so saving my life seemed out of the question. He was as powerless as I was. He was in the same bad state, maybe even worse after all of the beatings. Then, I said, “Remember me when you come into your kingdom.” I don’t know what I expected. I didn’t deserve a place with the Son of God. But I wept with relief at his answer. “Truly, I tell you, today, you will be with me in paradise.” Truly this man was the Son of God. I would not only be remembered, I would be restored. I would be with God. I had never been good enough or at all righteous. I felt shame and embarrassment about all I had done, but he invited me to be a part of his kingdom.

Even in dying, I felt great joy. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see the sneer on the face of the other criminal. And I had compassion on him and forgave him. He was just as I am, and worthy of a place in the kingdom too. That day, I forgave myself, because Jesus forgave me. And I forgave the angry crowds and the brutal soldiers, because Jesus loved even them. And I entered into God’s glorious kingdom, of forgiveness, restoration, welcome, and peace.

My latest list of columns

Hi y'all!  I updated the list of the articles I have written for PQ Monthly!

My column is Finding Leo, and I write about my life as a trans man, and a person of faith.

You can find my articles here with the most recent listed first:

Finding Leo: One Chest Hair is Enough (March/April 2016)

Finding Leo: My Best Valentine  (February/March 2016)

Finding Leo: Back to the Beginning (January/February 2016)

Protest and Renewal: Working for Welcome (January 22, 2016)

Finding Leo: Light A Candle (December/January 2015/16)

Finding Leo: A Place at the Table (November/December 2015)

Finding Leo: My Crotch and My Faith  (October/November 2015)

Finding Leo: Transitioning in Church, A Spiritual Perspective (January/February 2015)

What's New?!

Hi friends,

I wanted to take a moment to share a quick update of what keeps me busy, inspired, and energized.

This year I got more involved volunteering for ReconcilingWorks, a national non-profit that walks alongside the Lutheran Church (ELCA) to help churches welcome, support, and celebrate lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender (LGBT) people. In 2015, I had the chance to travel, meet people around the region, and train churches how to talk about God’s love for all, and how to have (sometimes hard) conversations in their faith community.

It is hugely rewarding to meet people working to make a difference in the world.  I am grateful that I am able to hear the stories of why people choose to spend their free time at a training. Many come because they have a loved one who is LGBT and was treated poorly by the church.  They want to change the church so that someone else's sibling or child has a place to call home in a faith community. Their love and compassion is inspiring!

(Portland area folks - if you are so inclined - join us for a community wide celebration in January - more info here)

I am also grateful that I have been able to help out with Cascade AIDS Project. CAP is the oldest and largest community-based provider of HIV services, housing, education and advocacy in Oregon and Southwest Washington.  It has been amazing to get to know this community even better as we work together to fight the stigma that still surrounds HIV, and work on prevention, education, and services to improve the lives of those affected by HIV.

I also am now a regular columnist at PQ Monthly!
Here are my columns from January, October, and November, December ... stay tuned for more!

Be well!
~Leo

My First Radio Interview!

Me at Wild Planet Radio

I had the privilege of sharing some of my story on our local radio station, Wild Planet Radio.  Chris Hyde and Catherine Chapman invited me to be a guest on their show, Progressive Soul.

With Chris and Catherine

I've always wanted to be in a radio studio, but I figured it would be as an observer.  What a fun experience to be behind the mic!

Not sure what I was describing here...

Thank you Catherine and Chris for being such awesome hosts.

Here is a link to the podcast - and the Resources I mentioned.

I'm grateful for this opportunity and for all of you as my support community!

Thank you for listening to my story, for being my community, for being you.

Lots of love,
Leo

Clowning around with Malcolm after the show

Region 1 What?

At a fundraiser for the youth at my church
photo credit: LeeAnne Krause

I am so thrilled to be a part of the work of ReconcilingWorks as the new Regional Coordinator for Region 1, a volunteer position.

So what does this mean?  It means I get to meet and work with the local people who are on the ground in Oregon, Washington, Idaho, Montana and Alaska, to help deepen and expand the Reconciling in Christ program in ELCA Lutheran churches.

We will work together make more churches welcoming to the LGBTQ community, and to dismantle injustice based on sexual orientation, gender identity and expression, race, ethnicity and other categories through a Lutheran lens.

Why is this still important?  Why does this matter to me?

Passion. Love. Hope.

Passion:  When I hear the personal stories of friends who have been kicked out of churches, estranged from families, bullied, assaulted, or told they cannot have a relationship with God, it makes me so angry.  I believe that God created a beautiful diversity, and that God loves each of us passionately, no matter what, just as we are.  I want to help create a world in which everyone is loved, where the worth and dignity of everyone is celebrated.

Love: I am grateful to have had church experiences where I have known God's love, where my family and friends have been able to walk with me on my own journeys through divorce, depression, joys, and transition.  The love of my family, friends, and church gives me strength.  I want to help create a world in which everyone is surrounded by loving community.

Hope: Honestly, sometimes I feel hopeless in the face of whatever latest crisis or assault is on the news.  I try to keep my candle flame of hope still burning in the midst of the whirlwinds of injustice, fear, and devastation.  My hope survives because of the stories of faith and courage that I hear, in your stories! I also find hope in God, and in the stirrings of the Spirit.  I see the Spirit moving and healing in the world, and so I keep on keeping on.

I'm new to this role, and I'm still learning. I have many people to meet and stories to hear. And at the end of the day, I look forward to all of us working together to bring love, hope, and peace to our world.

Thank you for walking with me.

Good Friday - Crucify!

A meditation I delivered for Good Friday:

Mark 15:1-20  As soon as it was morning, the chief priests held a consultation with the elders and scribes and the whole council. They bound Jesus, led him away, and handed him over to Pilate. Pilate asked him, ‘Are you the King of the Jews?’ He answered him, ‘You say so.’ Then the chief priests accused him of many things. Pilate asked him again, ‘Have you no answer? See how many charges they bring against you.’ But Jesus made no further reply, so that Pilate was amazed.
Now at the festival he used to release a prisoner for them, anyone for whom they asked. Now a man called Barabbas was in prison with the rebels who had committed murder during the insurrection. So the crowd came and began to ask Pilate to do for them according to his custom.Then he answered them, ‘Do you want me to release for you the King of the Jews?’ For he realized that it was out of jealousy that the chief priests had handed him over. But the chief priests stirred up the crowd to have him release Barabbas for them instead. Pilate spoke to them again, ‘Then what do you wish me to do* with the man you call* the King of the Jews?’ They shouted back, ‘Crucify him!’ Pilate asked them, ‘Why, what evil has he done?’ But they shouted all the more, ‘Crucify him!’ So Pilate, wishing to satisfy the crowd, released Barabbas for them; and after flogging Jesus, he handed him over to be crucified.
Then the soldiers led him into the courtyard of the palace (that is, the governor’s headquarters*); and they called together the whole cohort.And they clothed him in a purple cloak; and after twisting some thorns into a crown, they put it on him. And they began saluting him, ‘Hail, King of the Jews!’ They struck his head with a reed, spat upon him, and knelt down in homage to him. After mocking him, they stripped him of the purple cloak and put his own clothes on him. Then they led him out to crucify him.

Were you there when the crowds shouted “Crucify him! Crucify him!”

Jesus has been sentenced to death, and the crowd refuses to let him go free. I can picture this crowd, loudly pumping fists in the air, cheering and jeering, stirred up by any variety of emotions – anger at Jesus for not being a heroic liberator, bored and bloodthirsty - looking for entertainment, full of religious zeal that Jesus is a blasphemer and should suffer and die. Regardless of intent, the crowd will not be appeased by the release of Jesus, but instead demands – “Crucify him! Crucify him!”

Then the soldiers beat him, mocked him and stripped him.

I am reminded of November 16, 1989, when the Jesuit theologian Ignacio Ellacuria and seven others were assassinated by the military in El Salvador, because they stood up for the poor.

Ellacuria had coined the term “the crucified people” to describe the Latin American poor, for as he described it, an unjust society means death – through institutional poverty, repression, wars, and the stripping away of peoples’ culture. It is a challenging image, the poor on the cross, because it brings the crucifixion into contemporary times and opens us up to be implicated as those shouting “Crucify!”

Ellacuria also reminds us through this imagery that God is present on the cross with Jesus, present when the people turn on him and demand his death. God is present in the suffering of those facing poverty, war, and repression.

Also in the tradition of Ellacuria’s theology, James Cone draws comparisons between the cross and the lynching tree. The crowds shouting “Crucify him!” are parallel to the white mob’s cry of “lynch him!” Though they are not identical, the cross can help us understand the lynching tree, and see that when the crowd lynched a black man, they were lynching Jesus. This is a vivid and grotesque version of Matthew 25:40, “as you did it to one of the least of these you did it to me.”

The cross reminds us that God is present with those who suffer violence and degradation. God have mercy.

This week has also been full of news stories of political, religious and cultural battles in the US. At least 26 states are debating legislation that would allow for discrimination against lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender people on the grounds of protecting religious freedom.

Passions are high on these bills. A pizza place in Indiana was quoted on air saying it would refuse to serve their food at a gay wedding, and there was so much fury on both sides of the question. Negative internet reviews were used as a platform to mock the restaurant and protest their comments. In counter protest, an online fundraising account was set up by a conservative media outlet and has raised almost a million dollars in a little over a day by people supporting the restaurant owners. I cannot help but hear this story, read the comments, and picture the chief priests and the crowd scene with Pilate: Ugly shouting and angry cries for justice on both sides.

Around the country there are also a bills being proposed that would criminalize trans people for using the bathroom for the gender they identify as. It is dehumanizing to have one’s need to pee questioned, and to be marked as suspicious and perverted.

And in California, even though the initiative will likely not even collect enough signatures for the ballot, a lawyer has submitted a petition that would call for gays and lesbians to be shot in the head. It doesn’t matter if it will not pass, it lies heavy on the heart, especially when people such as Senator Tom Cotton of Arkansas tries to defend the religious freedom act of Indiana by arguing that at least it’s not Iran, where they hang gay men.

I don’t bring these stories up to be political. While Lutherans should be involved in the public sphere and I support healthy discourse and hard conversations about how laws are written and which should pass, I bring this up because of a comment posted by a friend on facebook who writes: “I'd just like to say that as a gay person, listening to the public squabble over my rights as a person and other's rights to treat me as less than equal is exhausting. If you have LGBT friends, give them a little extra love today because this stuff is soul sucking.” I appreciate that Bonnie Beadles-Bohling wrote that post. It has been a tough week to watch the back and forth attacks that have dehumanized and vilified people on both sides of the issue. It has been tough to be afraid of discrimination and hate growing in our world.

Biblical scholar Raymond Brown highlights that the chief priests gave Jesus over to Pilate out of jealousy, and the same Greek word, phthonos points to both envy and zeal. Brown writes that by warning us of the envy and zeal that lead the chief priests and crowds to crucify Jesus, the gospel writer Mark is cautioning the early church and us of “a divisive competitiveness among groups struggling for their own view point.” Sound familiar?

The same zeal that can inspire us to do good things can also cause us to try to out-do one another in our supposed faithfulness and holiness. It can lead us to forget the cross and the people we crucify.

Ignacio Ellacuria draws our attention to the poor in Latin America, James Cone draws our attention to racism in the United States, Bonnie Beadles-Bohling draws our attention to the experience in the LGBT community.

Were you there when the people chose to free a murderer and crucify Jesus? Were you there when we did not value his life, but sentenced him to die?

And when did we not value the life of another based on ethnicity, gender, gender identity, sexual orientation, age, physical or mental ability, education, income, or family status?

We need love, but we are surrounded by cries of Crucify! And we are about to crucify the one who is love, Jesus.

Maundy Thursday - On Fear

This is the second of two meditations I gave tonight at our Maundy Thursday service.

Mark 14:66-72 - While Peter was below in the courtyard, one of the servant-girls of the high priest came by. When she saw Peter warming himself, she stared at him and said, ‘You also were with Jesus, the man from Nazareth.’ But he denied it, saying, ‘I do not know or understand what you are talking about.’ And he went out into the forecourt.* Then the cock crowed.* And the servant-girl, on seeing him, began again to say to the bystanders, ‘This man is one of them.’ But again he denied it. Then after a little while the bystanders again said to Peter, ‘Certainly you are one of them; for you are a Galilean.’ But he began to curse, and he swore an oath, ‘I do not know this man you are talking about.’ At that moment the cock crowed for the second time. Then Peter remembered that Jesus had said to him, ‘Before the cock crows twice, you will deny me three times.’ And he broke down and wept.

Were you there when Peter lied about knowing Jesus? Peter was not a bad person. Earlier we heard about how he wanted Jesus to wash not just his feet, but his whole body, so earnest was he about following Jesus. But then his teacher had been arrested and convicted as Peter looked on. Now he is being confronted about his association with the arrested man, and Peter lies. I think he was afraid, exhausted, and probably full of adrenaline.

Fear turns us against our best selves, and can turn us against one another. There is fear in our world today over adequate water and oil, fear about jobs and crime, fear of sickness and death, fear of discrimination and rejection, fear of being overrun by those on the other side of the political spectrum, whichever that side may be… Fears can overwhelm us.

What resonates with me in this story is not whether or not Peter said he knew Jesus. For me, it is not about being willing to admit I am a Christian. In today’s political climate, one’s willingness to be called Christian can feel like a loaded statement, and it may not have the same meaning for me as for the one who hears it. What really strikes me is that Peter responded out of fear and impulse in a way that went against his own planning and intent.

Up to this moment, Peter thinks he has what it takes to stand firm as a disciple of Jesus, and has even stayed nearby during the trial. Didn’t Peter say that he would never betray Jesus? And then it happens so quickly, and before he realizes it, he has denied even knowing his teacher and friend.

Where have I let fear get in the way of speaking the truth? Where have I chosen the easy way out instead of risking hard conversations and building relationships?

Peter is afraid, angry, and upset. I am too. I weep with him. There are times when has my heart been just too broken, when has hope failed, and I have quit trusting in God. With Peter, we may weep when we realize our own fear overrides the message of the gospel, when we deny God’s abundant and passionate love.

Tonight, may we find the strength and the courage to be prophetic and instead of fearfully silent. May we be faithful to Jesus’ reminder of love and servanthood in the breaking of the bread, and the washing of feet. May we find the motivation to stand in solidarity with all who are crushed by the weight of poverty, illness, discrimination and hate. May we seek ways to build relationships, bridging divides instead of creating barriers.

And at the end of this dark night, though we watch our teacher and friend led away to face crucifixion, though we face all which causes us anger and despair today, may we remember that we can’t fix this on our own. We will fail, but God is faithful. God’s power is present in weakness, even our own.

Maundy Thursday - On Racism

This is the first of two meditations I gave tonight at our Maundy Thursday service.

Mark 14:53-65 - They took Jesus to the high priest; and all the chief priests, the elders, and the scribes were assembled. Peter had followed him at a distance, right into the courtyard of the high priest; and he was sitting with the guards, warming himself at the fire. Now the chief priests and the whole council were looking for testimony against Jesus to put him to death; but they found none. For many gave false testimony against him, and their testimony did not agree. Some stood up and gave false testimony against him, saying, “We heard him say, ‘I will destroy this temple that is made with hands, and in three days I will build another, not made with hands.’” But even on this point their testimony did not agree. Then the high priest stood up before them and asked Jesus, “Have you no answer? What is it that they testify against you?” But he was silent and did not answer. Again the high priest asked him, “Are you the Messiah, the Son of the Blessed One?” Jesus said, “I am; and you will see the Son of Man seated at the right hand of the Power,’ and ‘coming with the clouds of heaven.’” Then the high priest tore his clothes and said, “Why do we still need witnesses? You have heard his blasphemy! What is your decision?” All of them condemned him as deserving death. Some began to spit on him, to blindfold him, and to strike him, saying to him, “Prophesy!” The guards also took him over and beat him.

Were you there when people with power were looking for any way to get rid of Jesus and silence is his teaching, healing, and hospitality? They were so desperate to kill him that they brought forward many witnesses with contradicting statements and false testimony.

In the end, Jesus’ own identity convicted him. He acknowledged that he was the Messiah, and was condemned to death. He was sentenced to death for being a threat to the status quo, and threatening the power structures of oppression. Were you there?

Were you there in 2015 when black men were labeled thugs and terrorists to justify violence against them by the police and vigilantes, when unarmed Latinos were shot because of a falsely perceived threat? Were you there when their very existence as people of color made them scapegoats within a system of institutionalized racism and oppression?

Where have we been complicit in our silence and false testimony in a country where black men are confronted by the police, profiled, presumed guilty of a crime, and suffer violence, often to the point of death. We live in a country where people of color are far more likely to be pulled over and frisked, given longer jail sentences for the same crimes, and where the color of the skin impacts housing, educational opportunities, lending practices and economic stability. In 2015, racism is still alive and thriving, sometimes hiding just under a polite veneer, but more and more it is making a loud noise amidst the animosity of a distracted, divided country.

Perhaps we have been like Peter, sitting near the guards so we can see what is happening, worried, and scared, but silent?

Were you silent when the national conversation on race got lost in the buzz about the latest media sensation? Were you silent in the presence of racist jokes? Did you cross to the other side of the street, or make an assumption about economic means or criminal intent when you saw a man ahead of you, merely because of the color of his skin?

Where have we seen in ourselves these pieces of racism and been ashamed or horrified? Where have we not even noticed when we treat people differently?

Racism is not an all-or-nothing sin, where bad people are racist, and good people are not. Jay Smooth suggests that instead of thinking of racism as something that can be removed once, like an appendix, our anti-racist work must be done daily, like brushing our teeth. Each day, we must remember our baptism. We start anew with grace, but also with searching and repentance, drowning our sins, including the sins of racism. Then we rise again in newness to live out the good news of this Jesus who stands on trial for speaking truth and love.

Jesus tells the authorities that he will be seated at the right hand of the Power. But in the passion he does not comes into power the way we expect, but in love and weakness. He was spit on, blindfolded, taunted and beaten. Can you not see that scene played out today as one of the frequent assaults on people of color?

Jesus stayed in that moment of the trial out of love for us in our wounded places, as well as in our sinful places. Jesus is present with those who are condemned by silence and lies, and by their very existence. God is present in Jesus with those who are marginalized and oppressed by cultural and political systems. Jesus is with them in their suffering and with their protest.

Where are we?

A Guest Post from Carl Dahlquist

Adam, Carl, Leo and Logan cleaning up after the RIC Service

A Guest Post from Carl Dahlquist:

This Lent, Carl was asked to deliver a meditation during our church’s midweek service. The theme for this Lent was Deeply Rooted, Branching Out. What follows is a transcript of the story he told as part of this service. He shared this meditation on Wednesday, March 18th.

Romans 15: 5-7
May the God who gives endurance and encouragement give you a spirit of unity among yourselves as you follow Christ Jesus, so that with one heart and mouth you may glorify the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ.
Accept one another, then, just as Christ accepted you, in order to bring praise to God.

Deeply Rooted, Branching Out

by Carl Dahlquist

When I was young, I attended a more conservative, evangelical church. In many ways, I was the epitome of what it meant to be a strong Christian. I was involved with the church; helping out in drama productions, teaching Sunday school to 3rd and 4th graders, going on mission trips around the state and country, and attending youth group regularly. And I was deeply invested in the church.
I learned a lot about what it meant to be a Christian in the Foursquare Tradition. I learned the importance of prayer, bible study, and evangelizing. I also learned what was considered acceptable and unacceptable in the eyes of the Lord. This caused tensions later in my life.

During this time I never doubted the love of God. It was one thing that every pastor, youth leader, and Sunday school teacher emphasized. God loves us all. We learned verses that spoke of the love God has for the people of the earth. John 3:16, “For God so loved the world that he gave his only begotten son, that whoever believes in him, will not parish, but have everlasting life.”

The church I grew up in emphasized the importance of having a personal relationship with Jesus. The part of John 3:16 about believing in Jesus in order to be saved was a large part of the beliefs of my church. Not a single service went by without a chance for people to confess their faith in Jesus, and accept him into their lives. When we had special services at Easter and Christmas, the success of the service was measured in how many people “came to Christ.”

My church was very clear about their motives in the area of being accepting of others. The church made the claim that all were welcome. And they were, but once they “converted” they were expected to conform to the picture of “true Christian.” At the time, I didn’t really question this. My thought was that this was something that all Christians had to do. Even though I had been saved by God’s grace, and had accepted Jesus into my heart, I believed that the level of my salvation was dependent on how good of a Christian I was. The best Christians, the most righteous, were going to have the best place in heaven.

They also emphasized the price of disbelief. That those who did not believe would suffer in the pit for all eternity. And though they claimed that all sin was equally deplorable in the eyes of the Lord, it was definitely implied that some were worse than others.

So, why am I describing some of the doctrine of the church I grew up in? Because it helps to lay the groundwork for the rest of my story.

During the election regarding Measure 36 in 2004, the measure to define marriage as one man and one woman in the Oregon Constitution, I started to notice what my church really meant by “All are welcome.” We were told that being LGBT was a choice that was against God. That we shouldn’t associate with those that went against God’s will. That we should witness to those that live in sin, and bring them to repentance.

This is when the seed of doubt was planted in my mind. I knew very few people who were LGBT, but I knew that the God of love that I knew couldn’t be the same God that would condemn people based on love. It took me a few years to be able to articulate this idea, and by that point Proposition 8 had taken place in California.

In 2006, I graduated from high school, and that fall I started attending Pacific Lutheran University. I believe that going to PLU for college was one of the best decisions I could have made. I was away from the expectations of my church and family for the first time in my life, and I was able to start really thinking about my faith, and to figure out who I was as a person. During this time, I realized something that I had been keeping from myself. I am gay.

This realization created a struggle within me. My understanding of the world was, in many ways, based on my faith. This struggle pitted my faith in God against my sexuality. I still believed that LGBT people weren’t accepted in God’s family. How could I be both gay and a Christian? The only thing I knew for sure, was that I didn’t choose to be gay.

How could someone who is raised to believe that homosexuality was a sin, something of the devil, choose to be gay? It was this question that made me know that there was nothing I could do that would change who I was. So I did the only other thing that I could think of. I distanced myself from the church. Sure, I continued to play the part of a church going Christian to appease my parents, and to not let on that anything was different.

When I went home to visit my parents, I went with them to their new church. During one of these visits, the pastor preached on the evils of homosexuality, and how we must “protect ourselves from their evil.” This was when I truly realized how much hate existed in the church, and my experiences didn’t really lead to me believing that there were churches that embraced the true love of Christ.
This realization solidified my belief that I, as a gay man, didn’t belong in the church. I decided to make a clean break. I stopped attending any church, except when at home and couldn’t get away with it. I couldn’t understand how people who believed in the saving grace of Jesus, and the eternal love of God could possibly believe that God would condemn someone just because of who they loved.

Matthew 22:37-40
Jesus replied: “‘Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind.’ This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’ All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments.”

It was studying these verses that lead me to my current understanding of the kind of love that we are called to embrace. A love for all peoples, regardless of who they are. It was here were I started to take root in my faith again. My very understanding of the nature of God’s love, and the commandments God gave us had been drastically altered. I looked into it some more. Jesus preached about love. The love of God, as well as the love that humans should have for each other. If Jesus taught love, then how can it be that pastors will teach hate? How can we allow hate to fester, choking away the very nourishment that God intends for our spiritual growth? I have seen how hate can grow like a weed, choking away all of the good works that God intends for our lives.

I knew then that I always had a place in God’s family. But I didn’t think that I would be able to find a church that would accept me for who I was. So I continued to drift.

Here’s where you [the people of St. Andrews ELCA in Beaverton, OR] come in. During my junior year at PLU, I took a term off from school. I needed to figure out some funding issues. I wanted to keep taking voice lessons while I was away, so I started taking lessons from Jacob Herbert, a pervious music minister here at St. Andrews. He offered to give me free lessons, if I agreed to sing in his church choir. At first I used this as an excuse to not have to go to my parents’ church, as well as get free voice lessons. It didn’t take long for your welcoming manner, and general good natures to win me over though.

During that time, I had felt something that I hadn’t felt in a long time. A sense of belonging in a church body. I was amazed by how accepting everyone was, even after I told people that I was gay. And even more amazing to me, was that you called a lesbian pastor to minister at your church. I was astounded. The very idea that an openly gay person would be allowed to even attend a church was amazing, but to call an openly lesbian pastor was quite another. I knew at that moment that I had found my new home.

To bring my experience back into the metaphor of grounded in faith, I was a deeply rooted, strong plant that happened to be in the wrong soil. And with the love and support of everyone here at St. Andrew, I was able to be transplanted into the nurturing soil of a church that means it when they say “All Are Welcome.”

Raising the Roof

Post-church selfie with Adam Page
after community RIC service, January 18, 2015

**this is the text of a sermon I gave at Mission of the Atonement (MOTA) on January 25, 2015.

Texts for the day:

Jonah 3:1-5, 10
Psalm 62:5-12
2 Corinthians 1:18-22
Mark 2:1-12  <- one of my favorites...  

**

Good morning to the fabulous and faithful people of MOTA. I am thrilled to be here today to celebrate Reconciling in Christ Sunday, to rejoice in a God whose hospitality is boundless, and to say yes to God’s call to share the good news of God’s exuberant love.

I love MOTA. You were the first place I ever preached, back in 2005. I was Laura then, and still remember the welcome I received here. Thank you for having me back for the forum earlier this month to share my journey from Laura to Leo, and for having me here again today.

I also have a special place in my heart for MOTA because of the ministry you do here, specifically building a community that is both Catholic and Lutheran. Our world loves to put up barriers between people, to create categories of us vs them. To paraphrase the former Lutheran presiding bishop Mark Hanson, you have taken border walls and turned them into tables of fellowship, around which you worship, serve and share in the life of Christ. That is a beautiful, blessed thing that you are doing here.

Thank you again for inviting me to share this day with you.

I’d like to start with a little history. In 1990, there were a little over 50 Reconciling in Christ congregations (now we are at just over 500, including MOTA), but we were a long way off from changing church policy to allow for the ordination of openly gay and lesbian pastors. Lesbians and gay men could not be ordained unless they were celibate, nor could they serve a church, according to church policy. But in the fall of 1989, two courageous and prophetic congregations risked discipline by calling a gay man and two lesbians to be their pastors. On January 20, 1990, Ruth Frost and Phyllis Zillhart were ordained with a joint call to serve at St. Francis Lutheran Church in San Francisco, and Jeff Johnson was ordained with a call to serve First United Lutheran Church nearby.

The Bishop did file charges against these two congregations, and they were expelled from the ELCA. But church policy did not have the last word, and ministry and gospel work continued in these places. The Lutheran church finally changed policy in 2009, and in 2010, these churches rejoined the ELCA and these three pastors as well as others who had not been seen as legitimate under the previous policy, were recognized and welcomed officially.

It is in commemoration of this act of resistance that we have RIC Sunday on the last Sunday in January. At that ordination in 1990, the call and ministry of these pastors was affirmed despite policy. ReconcilingWorks continues the work of affirming the dignity and worth of all peoples. We celebrate churches’ welcoming people of all sexual orientations, all gender identities, and all gender expressions. This work is important, because we still live in a world in which people do not know they are have a place at the table, or that God’s love includes them. That work has helped me also know that I belong here, as a child of God, after coming out as trans at 37.

The gospel reading from Mark is fitting for today, and one of my favorites. Jesus is at home preaching and being his awesome self. You know how he rolls. So many people came to hear him that quite a crowd had gathered.

Some people came with a friend who needed healing. But it was so packed! Perhaps these friends tried to make a way only to find backs turned, shoulders barring the way, looks of disdain? So many in the LGBTQ community experience these same barriers to welcome. These friends knew they would not be able to get to Jesus by normal means, or acceptable methods. So they dug through the roof of the home, and lowered their friend down near Jesus.

Now me, I don’t know if I could have done that. I’m the kind of person who walks quietly through halls so as not to disturb other people, and if a sign says “keep out”, I do. If I were there on that day with my friends, I may have stood awkwardly on the edges, wishing Jesus would take care of the situation, (hopefully without drawing too much attention to me!) If my friends had started digging through the roof, I may well have pretended not too know them.

And yet Jesus sees their faith, forgives the sins of their friend and grants healing. Those in power were grumpy about this, but they did not have the last word. That belongs to the people, who glorify God.

I want to be brave enough to interrupt the accepted order, inconvenience the crowds and those in power, perhaps even draw attention to myself and my actions, for the sake of justice and the work of the Gospel. I’d like to think that our work to advocate for others, and to work for a church where all are truly welcome embodies that courageous and faith-filled spirit.

Now let me say three VERY important things. I have compared the friends digging through the roof to get healing for their friend, to the work for advocacy in the church, which means I need to be very careful and very clear. 1) LGBTQ people are not sick, 2) Being gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender or queer is not a sin. 3) The work of advocacy is not about bringing LGBTQ people to Jesus.

I want to be very clear about this, because the bible and the church are still used to oppress people, to make them feel sinful, unworthy, or unwelcome. On December 28, 2014, transwoman Leelah Alcorn, at 17 committed suicide, in large part because of the efforts by her Christian parents and church to “fix” her trans-ness and make her into a “straight boy”. That is not what I am advocating. In fact, this is what I am fighting.

The four friends in our gospel had compassion for their friend, and faith and hope in the healing and saving presence of Jesus. This made them bold enough to remove barriers, defy convention, and risk condemnation.

In January, 1990, two churches had faith in God’s presence among them as they broke the rules in order to affirm the worth and dignity of gay and lesbian pastors, and validate their ministry among God’s people.

In 1983, Pastor Anita Hill, who was with us for the community-wide RIC service last week, began serving as a pastor despite the national church’s unwillingness to ordain her, an out lesbian. Even when she was finally ordained in 2001, it was outside of church policy. In 2010, she finally had her ordination recognized, twenty-seven years into her pastoral ministry.

We must have courage and faith in God’s continuing presence and healing action here on earth.

Troublemakers, rule breakers, and visionaries often lead the way. Rosa Parks. Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr. Cesar Chavez. Disrupting business as usual and bringing pressure for change.

Unfortunately, we know that the work of ending racism and systemic oppression is not over. We live in a world of racism, sexism, homophobia, transphobia, and many other forms of prejudice, and the consequences can be deadly.

I thank God for the persistence and courage of those working for change, of those digging through the roof to bring their friends to a place of justice, to make this world safer for those on the outside.

I thank God for the work that you have done here at MOTA to help make the church safer for people in the LGBTQ community. I am grateful that you include in your bulletin a statement of welcome: “At Mission of the Atonement, we affirm our welcome to all sexual orientations, gender identities, shapes, sizes, races, languages, faiths, and spiritual perspectives.” You give me hope and courage. I know that I am welcome here.

Our bulletin also gives us direction for today. Trial. Truth. Trust. Saying Yes to God. We are challenged and supported in our call to bring healing, mercy, love, hospitality and reconciliation to this troubled world.

In Jonah, we see a God that sometimes has to keep reminding us of our call. We read, the word of the Lord came to Jonah a second time. We know Jonah was reluctant to tell Nineveh to repent. Reluctant is one way to describe him –really, he tried to run far, far away. But after dwelling in the belly of the whale, he finally hears the word of the Lord and goes to Nineveh to proclaim judgment against the wickedness of the city.

And the people of Nineveh heard Jonah. They repented. The king repented. And God showed them mercy. God’s embrace was big enough for those who were slow to listen and those who had been wicked. The story of Jonah reminds us to trust, to speak truth, and to know that God is active in the world, working with us to bring about peace and wholeness.

The prayer of Jonah from the belly of the whale (in the chapter before today’s reading), and the prayer in the psalm, affirm a hope in the deliverance of God. Birthed during hard times, these prayers can give us courage and strengthen our faith. God is a refuge for us, our rock and our fortress, giving us confidence while at the same time prodding us to do God’s work in the world.

And 2 Corinthians reminds me that God is faithful to God’s promises, and is before us, leading the way, establishing relationships in Christ, and giving us the gift of the Holy Spirit in our hearts.

Today we celebrate the prophetic courage of those who ordained two lesbians and a gay man in 1990, risking and losing their membership in our national church body, and we rejoice that this policy changed. We celebrate the decision of Mission of the Atonement to become an RIC congregation and the progress our country has made, even while there is work yet to be done. We sing gladly that All are Welcome here, proclaiming that the doors are open, the roof has been dug through, and everyone has a share in the abundance of love that is in God. Today, we re-dedicate ourselves to fight injustice and violence based on sexual orientation, gender identity, shape, size, race, language, faith or spiritual perspectives.

We can have courage and say yes, trusting that God goes before us. The original trouble maker, boundary breaker, deep heart of compassion, and fountain of grace, leads us on and sends us forth to live in and share the good news of God’s great love.

Happy Holidays 2014!

Me in my Superman Onesie - Christmas 2014

Happy Holidays!  Thank you all for being in my life, and for the ways you support and encourage me!!

For those of you who may not know, I came out as transgender in September, 2013.
I chose the name Leo Channing, which means lion, fierce wolf, and church leader. My name reminds me to be courageous and strong in my activism, advocacy and faith.

2014 is the year that I embraced my new sense of identity: changing my name legally, transitioning medically with top surgery and testosterone. I am happier than I have ever been in my life, and so much more comfortable in my own skin. My voice is getting deeper, but still cracks, which makes me laugh!

I was surprised and thrilled to have my church embrace me as Leo. The opportunity to share my story with other churches as well has been an awesome gift. I truly enjoy this public speaking and sharing on my blog.

And for big news this year: In November, I was elected to the Board of Directors at one of my favorite non-profits, Cascade AIDS Project. I am so excited to be able to continue my support of this organization in their mission: “To prevent HIV infections, support and empower people living with or affected by HIV, and eliminate HIV-related stigma and health disparities.”

And I’m really looking forward to 2015….! I’m going to start taking aerial classes, with the hopes that one day I can meet a life goal of being on a flying trapeze (just for fun, I’m not changing careers, yet).

Here are some other highlights for 2015…

You’re Invited: Celebrating LGBT Advocacy in the Church!

This year I am grateful to have the opportunity to organize a church service for the Portland Metro area, sponsored by the Portland Metro Chapter of ReconcilingWorks. This is an annual community-wide worship service and reception celebrating that we really do mean All Are Welcome, including the LGBT community. We will have an amazing preacher from Minnesota, Rev. Anita Hill, a pioneer of the movement for full inclusion! If that interests you, come on by! 

St. Andrew Lutheran, 12405 SW Butner Road, Beaverton, OR.

January 18th, 2015 – 6:30pm

Save the date: My 40th Birthday! – July 15th, 2015

Groan… I can’t believe I turn 40 in 2015. Say it ain’t so! Save the date now for a big blow-out event, July 15th, 2015. It will be a fundraiser for my AIDS Walk goal and will have entertainment, a silent auction and more! I am not ready to face 40, and plan on softening the blow of this milestone birthday with as many good friends and as much giving-back as one night can handle. PS - Do you make crafts, create art, quilt, knit, or other skills you may be interested in donating to the silent auction? Oooooh….. let’s talk! 

Stay Tuned: Faith Campaign for AIDS Walk – September 12th, 2015
In 2014 I helped to recruit communities of faith to start up teams for AIDS Walk. It was fantastic, and many great people participated and donated. Thank you! And in 2015, we are going to BRING IT! I’m excited to be involved in this endeavor again. Stay tuned for news of fun events!

Thank You! Thank you! Thank you!
Thank you for helping make this year so incredible and full of love. I’m excited for adventures and good work to be done in 2015. I’m glad you’re in my life and hope we stay connected over the years.

Wishing you a holiday season full of peace, love, hope, joy, and just the right mix of naughty and nice.

Peace,
Leo

Faith in the Midst of Lament

At the protest in 2008 at the School of the Americas,
Fort Benning, GA.

This is the text of the advent meditation I gave this evening on the theme of Sir Up... about how someone has stirred up my faith.

From the Gospel of John, the first chapter
In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God. All things came into being through him, and without him not one thing came into being. What has come into being in him was life, and the life was the light of all people. The light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not overcome it.

My advent meditation is called, “Faith in the midst of lament” or “The Christmas Story from the perspective of a shepherd, watching the flocks by night, who is afraid of the dark”

There is so much in this world to break our hearts. Every day and every generation we seem to find new ways, or refine old ways to hurt ourselves and others.

Grief, illness, worry, stress, fear about our jobs, our families, the environment, all may trouble us, binding us with despair, driving us to cope in ways that sometimes are unhealthy, or dangerous.

Many of you know part of my story – that I went to Berkeley in 2006 to go to seminary to become a pastor. Instead, I lost my faith and struggled with depression and anger towards God about all of the suffering in the world.

I wanted to walk away from God, from the church, and at my worst moment, I wished for a brain tumor so I could walk away from life.

I was mad about the cruelty I saw in the world, the genocide in Rwanda, atrocities in Central America, child soldiers, and poverty. I grieved the death of my young niece, Merissa Pratt. I didn’t think I could hold this anger and pain in my heart and still have room for God.

I’m still mad about what I see and I know I’m not alone. I don’t want the victims of this world’s anger and hate to be forgotten. I want their names to be spoken. 

On my heart tonight are young black men who were killed, their lives crushed by systemic racism, Michael Brown, Eric Garner, Oscar Grant, Trayvon Martin, Tamir Rice, and too many more.

On my heart tonight are transwomen murdered just for being who they are, Deshawnda “Tata” Sanchez, Kandy Hall, Zoraida Reyes, Yaz’min Sanchez, Tiff Edwards, Mia Henderson. Alejandra Leos, and an unidentified victim, all killed in the US since June of this year.

And just this month, a 12 year old boy in Folsom, California, Ronan Shimizu, killed himself after anti-gay bullying he received at school.

There are people whose names or stories we don’t know: refugees in Syria, victims of conflict in the Democratic Republic of Congo and Uganda, victims of ebola, the victims of the mass murder of students in Guerrero State in Mexico.

There are the people in our own community, who struggle with homelessness, domestic violence, addiction and illness.

To paraphrase Psalm 13:1, How long, O Lord? Will you forget us forever?

How long will you hide your face from us?

So far, this has not been a really peppy meditation, but these are the kinds of thoughts that wore me down between 2006 and 2009. These are the kinds of reasons I felt that faith in God was not going to work for me.

I’m pretty sure I’m not alone in dwelling on questions of suffering, at least every now and then. Tonight I get to tell you about Jon Sobrino, the Jesuit theologian who stirred up and revived my faith. He was able to hold both anger about injustice and love for God and others in his heart. I am grateful for his witness, and I think that it is important to be honest about what sustains our faith in even the scariest of times.

Living and working in El Salvador since 1957, Jon Sobrino saw crushing poverty and brutal oppression. He and his colleagues began to speak up and act out against this, and to work on behalf of the poor in the midst of the El Salvadoran Civil War that left about 75,000 men, women, and children dead, mostly civilians. Sobrino and his colleagues believed and shared the good news that God desires life and creation, and that the acts of violence perpetrated against the people were not God’s will. He became my hero because of his courage and solidarity with the poor.

On November 16, 1989, while Sobrino was in Thailand on a speaking engagement, members of the military broke into the school where he taught and assassinated 6 of his colleagues, their housekeeper and her fifteen year-old daughter. Ignacio Ellacuria, Segundo Montes, Juan Ramón Moreno, Ignacio Martin Baro, Amando López, Joaquín López y López, Elba Ramos and Celina Ramos. These friends and colleagues had worked alongside Jon Sobrino in his work for the poor and were taken away in a brutal act of cruelty and repression.

Instead of giving up, Sobrino kept working, living for a time in exile, faithfully speaking, writing, and teaching. Not only did he keep going in the midst of great suffering and personal loss, but he continued to be vocal in sharing the good news that God stands with those who suffer, that God is active and working to liberate God’s people, even if we may fear that God has left us all. God may not come as we expect, this is the story of Christmas. Jesus came to serve, not to rule on earth in power. God is present, and works through us to transform our world.

Sobrino’s writings captured my attention (so much so that I was able to go back to school and finish my degree). He helped me to see Jesus as relevant, he described God’s anger at injustice and passion for the value of human life and dignity in a way that stirred up my own belief. He lives a life of integrity, his life reflects his values, and this inspires me.

To this day, Jon Sobrino speaks and acts to call us to faith and to action, and I am grateful I got to see him speak at a protest at Fort Benning, Georgia in 2008. Studying him in school, hearing him speak, I wanted to stop dwelling on the questions of why God allowed bad things to happen, or how humans could be so cruel to one another. He asked us to take part in alleviating the suffering in this world, and I found in him a role model who could live out his faith in service to others without getting used up or becoming bitter.

My meditation’s subtitle, “The Christmas Story from the perspective of a shepherd, watching the flocks by night, who is afraid of the dark” really describes me. Scared by all I was seeing in the world, I refused to look up to see the bright star in the sky, and I forget to look at the examples of light and love that shine in others around us. As Sobrino said “Hope is the seed of liberation.” This is true for whole communities, and it was true for me in my own search for liberation. Once I found hope again for having faith, it slowly, carefully, began to regrow. It wasn’t instant, and it wasn’t easy, and sometimes I just had to hope that just showing up would be enough. It was.

I am so relieved to stand here, six years later, to have once again found God and an abundant life of faith, love, and community. I am grateful for my life. The Psalm of lament I quoted, Psalm 13 ends well too. “But I trusted in your steadfast love; my heart shall rejoice in your salvation. I will sing to the Lord, because he has dealt bountifully with me.

Many of you here have helped me to find my way again, and Jon Sobrino did too. This year, for Christmas, I will still feel stress of holiday chaos, and ponder with grief and anger the injustice of the world. But I will trust in God’s presence and love in a way I couldn’t in 2008.

Through this journey, my faith was restored, and I found I could trust God again to care for this world. And just as importantly, I could trust God to hold closely in eternal love and faithful steadfastness those we have lost, my niece Merissa, our own Martin Schmidt, those I named tonight, and all those in our hearts. Every name, and everyone unnamed, is remembered and embraced by God.

I am motivated to try and make the world a better place, to be a part of God’s work here on earth. Sobrino lost so much, kept going in the midst of desperate injustice, kept his faith in God intact, and his example ignited the hope that brought back the spark of my faith even in the midst of lament.

“Hope is the seed of liberation.”

I hope we can each remember to look up, look around, and find a surprising abundance of faith and hope. Let’s not worry about a scarcity of goodness or love, but live with confidence in the promise of God’s presence. My Christmas wish is that we can be free to help others, to make a difference in the world, no matter how small, and find ourselves fed and nourished by the abundance that is in God.

I thank God for Jon Sobrino, for this community, and for all who stir up our faith.