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Sermon written for "Preaching LIberation" at Pacific School of Religion.
Sermon written for "Preaching LIberation" at Pacific School of Religion.
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There
are thousands of people in this world that would willingly tell us that God
does not advocate for this group or that group… for the Muslims or the gays... murderers
or the politicians. The story that runs deep in our American society has told
us for years that some people have the blessing of God and others do not. God
approves of some kinds of people and others… well, not so much. How often have
we heard God used as the ultimate seal of disapproval? Of dissatisfaction? How
many times have we seen on TV or perhaps in person, someone yelling hurtful
words from across the street at a particular person or group of people
condemning them for who they are or what they do? We are told again and again
that God is the one who moves. God is the one who looks away from the stranger,
the imprisoned, the queer.
In
our scripture for today, we read of a startling interaction between Jesus and
Peter… between teacher and student… between Rabbi and disciple… Jesus had been
telling his disciples what was to come of his life… of all the suffering and
death and resurrection. When he heard this, Peter snagged Jesus and pulled him
to the side, chastising him for the things he said to which Jesus shouted, “Get
behind me, Satan! For you are setting your mind not on divine things but on
human things.”
You
are setting your mind not on diving things but on human things.
Perhaps
Peter thought he had better plans for Jesus. Perhaps Peter thought it would be
better for Jesus not to endure so much suffering. Perhaps Peter thought he knew
better than God. In the gospel of Mark, this is the first time we hear Jesus
foretell his death and resurrection, but more importantly, for us today, this
is the first time we hear Jesus proclaim who he is and what he understands his
purpose to be on this earth. The first time. The first time we come to
understand who someone really is, it can take us by surprise.
In
this past year of my life through my own personal coming out process, I came to
understand what Jesus was saying to Peter. Peter was worried. He was probably
even worried about what would happen to himself should Jesus die. Would he lose
his reputation as a disciple? Would his life, as he knew it, completely change?
He had set his mind on what was good for him; what felt like the best option
for the people that would be left behind. But that’s where he went wrong.
It
took me nine months to realize that I too was focused on human things. My gut
turned into knots whenever I thought about how my parents and other friends and
family might react to my queer identity. For eleven months I ran the
conversations over and over in my head… How was I going to tell my parents?
What would they say? What if my dad throws me out of the house or takes away
the financial support upon which I am entirely dependent? These various
dialogues scrolled through my consciousness as I attempted to find the easiest
way to break the news.
I
wonder if that’s how Jesus felt before he spilled the news about his life and
purpose. Perhaps he asked himself those similar questions about his disciples.
Maybe he knew Peter was going to get defensive, or maybe it came as a surprise.
While we can speculate about what was running through Jesus’ mind we know one
thing: this news was a turning point. By verbally acknowledging who he was,
Jesus came out. He stopped keeping it a secret and made it known to his
disciples. It is in the turning points of life that we make a choice: we can
choose to stand with God and embrace who we are as divinely inspired beings..
OR… we can deny ourselves this way of being in the world. By coming out, I drew
closer to the divine by verbally, consciously and physically admitting who I
am.
This
past summer marked such a turning point in my life. It was the last summer I
was able to spend at home before actually starting what feels like my grown-up
life. I ventured home to Michigan to spend a long 9 weeks with my family as
well as playing at the beach and spending time going to meetings at church, as
that is really the reason for which I go home. However, that is not why it was
a turning point. The “Summer of 2012” will forever be known to me as the summer
I came out. It is the summer that I told my parents that I was dating a girl.
Two weeks into the summer I hesitantly told my mom. I started the conversation
and before I knew it, she was weeping… holding my hand with her left and wiping
her tears away with her right. It was hard to hear, I knew it was. “My life
will look different, I know, but I’m the happiest I’ve ever been,” I reassured
her.
Five
weeks later, and when I say that, I’m talking about just three weeks ago, I sat
down with my dad in his office, and as I shared my news, I stared into his
eyes… his face was frozen… I knew he didn’t know how to react, so he did the
best he could as tears welled up in his eyes… I told him the same thing I told
my mom. “My life will look different, I know, but I’m the happiest I’ve ever
been.” I
sat with my mom for 20 minutes and my father for two minutes, and though they
may have been the most difficult 22 minutes of my 24 year-old life, they were,
nonetheless, the most freeing, the most liberative, the most emancipatory 22
minutes of my life thus far.
A year and two weeks ago, when I came to
the realization and admitted to myself and my pastor that I was not straight,
as I sat in a Starbucks in downtown Los Angeles, drinking an iced chai tea
latte and writing a letter to my pastor... my arm was on the table and my head
was on my arm… my hand was shaking as I wrote the words: I think I’m
questioning my sexuality. Truth was, I had been questioning for four years and
was realizing in that moment that what I actually meant was that I knew. I knew
who I was. I knew I was queer. I knew I needed to embrace this part of myself.
But it was hard. I was born into a family that never discussed the fact that my
uncle is gay. I was born into a family for whom silence was the accepted norm.
I was born into a family that belongs in the heteronormative, patriarchal,
White, Protestant culturally dominant paradigm. I was born into a family that
created a culture in which I was afraid to be all of who I am.
Much of the world says that God approves
of some and is silent about others.
But God is not silent. God is not silent.
It wasn’t until just a few months ago when I realized that my happiness, my
life, my well-being was not dependent upon the approval I did or did not
receive from my parents. I wanted...
and still do want my parent’s approval
but I recognize that I do not need
it. I do not need it to live my life the way that feels right and true and
honest to who I am and who God is. I recognize that God has been with me. God
has validated, approved, and loved my existence as a queer person since before
I was born. When I came out and began to live more fully and embrace who I am,
I moved closer to the Divine. I care for my parents and seek their love, but
God is the one in whom I live and move and have my being. My
queer identity is ultimately wrapped up in the Divine. For me, queer is divine. When we support suppressive
narratives, ones that keep individuals closeted for whatever purpose… when we
deny people who they really are, we restrict their ability to come closer to
God. And who are we as human beings to say who can experience God and who
cannot?
So, Beloved, let us move to a place of
recognition. Let us be liberated and liberate others to be who they are. Let us
acknowledge each person’s divinity. Let us embrace our identities and allow
them to bring us into our fullness, to flourish and grow and establish the
kin-dom… not the king-dom but the kin-dom… of God on earth. This earth… the one
on which Jesus walked and lived and died and resurrected. This earth… on which
Peter rebuked and denied Jesus. This earth… on which people of varying opinions
often become outraged and silence others. This earth…on which I am living as an
out queer person. This is the place and the space in which we get to claim who
we are and live into that identity. Imagine a place where we, as the body of
Christ, accept everyone into the fold no matter their age, race, gender,
height, sexual orientation, gender identity, weight, or intellect. That is
where I want to be… because that’s
where God is. Let us co-create that place together so as to live into our
divine identities and our collective fullness. Amen.
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