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.

Physical Reminders

Standing at the baptismal font on my naming day
Photo courtesy of Lee Ann Krause

A note: My goal is never, ever, EVER to try to get you to go to church, or convince you to believe in God. That is just not my job. Your faith is not my business. I do want everyone to know they are loved, no matter what, and I want to make churches safe and welcoming for those who might want to go to one. Thanks for reading.

For me, coming out as trans is liberating and terrifying. In the beginning, I cried myself to sleep, afraid of a life of isolation and rejection. I didn't know anything about what transgender meant, and I didn't have connections within the trans community. I just knew that I had discovered a truth about myself that could not be hidden away.

It took some time for me to know I was accepted in the church, but I began to feel comfortable once again. Then, a few months ago, a friend sent me Nadia Bolz-Weber's blog with a naming liturgy for a transgender member. Though it sounded intimidating and I wasn't sure exactly why it was important to me, I wanted to do this in my own church for my new name. Sure, I was hoping for public acknowledgement in the church of my transition, and introduction of my new name to those who didn't know. But both of these could have been done in other ways. Doing something as part of Sunday morning worship seemed important.

My pastors trusted in our congregation and God's grace, and we developed a naming liturgy, modifying the one we found on Nadia's blog. We scheduled it for July 13, 2014. I didn't expect a negative response, and yet I was terrified. I wanted to back out and avoid the public event. I went forward with it anyway, but I invited friends of mine to come with me for moral support.

After the sermon hymn, our pastors invited me up, as well as my "naming support crew." Twelve guys in my friend group, as well as friends in the congregation, and my mother, surrounded me as I stood next to the two pastors by the baptismal font.  We hadn't even started yet and I was tearing up. It was incredible to have the support and presence of my friends.  I was not alone.

We went through the liturgy and many of us, including the pastors, choked up during the last prayer:

Leo, child of God, you have been sealed by the Holy Spirit and marked with the cross of Christ forever. Bear your new name in the Name of Christ. Share it in the name of mercy. Offer it in the name of justice. Christ is among us making peace right here right now. And let the people say, “Amen.”

Tonight, one month later, I was driving home singing to the Spice Girls, and I could finally put to words why I wanted to have a naming service at the font, and why I based it on the service for affirmation of baptism. (spoiler - the Spice Girls' song is not a clue).

1) To me, baptism reminds me that every day I will mess up, and every day I can start over. I can't be perfect, no matter how hard I might try, and nothing I do will make God stop loving me. I have the freedom to be human, to f#@% it up royally, and I am always given another chance. God's passionate embrace is unconditional. We will always, always, always be loved and worthy.

2) My baptism also means that God claims me as a part of the family.  God claims us, and needs us to go out into the world to work for justice, peace, mercy, forgiveness, and reconciliation, and to bring hope and light into the world.

This big ceramic bowl of water in the middle of the church is a physical and tangible reminder. It anchors my understanding of who I am, who God is, and how I want to live in the world. It was the perfect place to pause and reflect as I took the next step in my journey, and took on a new name.

I needed to be sure that God knows my new name. I needed to know that God still claims me:

"Leo, child of God, you have been sealed by the Holy Spirit and marked with the cross of Christ forever..."

I needed to know that God still sends me forth to make a difference in the world.

"...Bear your new name in the Name of Christ. Share it in the name of mercy. Offer it in the name of justice...."

I needed to know that God is still with us, even if I've turned my world upside down.

"...Christ is among us making peace right here right now..."

I needed to know I would still find support at my church and with my friends.

"...And let the people say, “Amen.”..." 

~
I no longer cry myself to sleep because I am trans. I do not feel condemned to live a life of isolation and rejection. There is room in this world for me to live authentically, and to find strength and joy in friendship and my faith. In fact, getting to be myself, which happens to be trans, is pretty dang awesome.

God still claims me, God still loves me, and God still wants my help in the world.  I do still need this reminder every day, and this is why I wanted a naming service at a big bowl of water in the middle of my church.

Maybe for you, baptism isn't a meaningful symbol for you. That's ok.  Maybe something else jogs your memory and reminds you that you are loved and worthy, that there is light and hope in the world.  Maybe it is a rainbow, or sunshine, or purple flowers (as it was for me in Berkeley during my crisis of faith), maybe it is in the hug of a friend. Maybe right now you have a hard time remembering that you are loved at all.

No matter what, please know that God loves you and claims you. God's family includes you. Whether or not you have been baptized, you are a child of God, named, and held close in love. You are not alone. You are needed in the world. No matter who you are, or what people have said about God to bully you, or what you feel may have put you outside of God's grace, you are beloved.  

YOU are beloved and needed.

Please don't ever forget it.

~

Want to do more for the work of welcome in churches for the LGBT community?  Here are some organizations, Lutheran and ecumenical.

Enter the Lion

July 27, 2014

Dear friends,

You are such an inspiration to me, and I can never sufficiently express my gratitude for all of the ways you have loved and cared for me, especially since I have come out as trans.

I am excited to share that after much discernment, prayer, and the required therapist letters, I am continuing my transition from female to male.  Yesterday, on July 30th, I took my first testosterone shot.  On August 19th, I will be in Fort Lauderdale for top surgery to remove my breasts and give me a male chest.

Some of you will celebrate this news.  Thank you!  Some of you may struggle with it, and I totally understand. I only ask that you still see me for the lovable goofball I have always been. I am giddy and grateful, and trying not to be too anxious about negative responses from those I care about. 

It isn't easy for me to defy expectations or risk upsetting people. My biggest fear in this process has been how people will respond. I'm a people pleaser. I want to be liked, and I hate conflict. But I will risk the hard conversations and negative comments so that I can live more fully as myself. This is an experience that is giving me strength and courage to find my own voice. I do not undertake this lightly, and if you are not supportive, please consider how your words may wound me or harm our relationship.

I am so excited to continue this journey and curious to see how I will look and sound in a year. Have questions? Some places to check out: HRC Transgender FAQ, and Hudson's FTM Testosterone basics, or ask me.

I wanted to record my voice at intervals for comparison, so I googled "lion quotes" and found this lovely one by Elizabeth Kenny:

It's better to be a lion for a day than a sheep all your life.  

Good words to live by, I think.

With joy,
Leo
(rawr!)