In the documentary Pay it No Mind: The Life and Times of Marsha P. Johnson, Marsha P. Johnson recounts how her faith is a bedrock of her organizing. At the end of the documentary, Marsha recounts talking to Jesus Christ at a young age about moving to New York City when he says back to her, “You know, you might wind up with nothing.” Marsha retorts back to Jesus, “Honey, I don’t care if I never have nothing ever till the day I die. All I want is my freedom.” As multiple friends and admirers of Marsha P. Johnson can attest, this was how she lived out her life. Marsha could be handed $2 and a bag of cookies, and by the time that she reached the end of the block, she had given all that she had just received away to others who needed it more than her. Agosto
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I’m scared right now. Government agencies I’ve taken for granted my entire life are disappearing. The sun is darkening. I’m scared when I hear of yet another transphobic law or policy that restricts the rights of trans people to exist in public spaces. Like a bathroom bill, or a policy that sex is immutable and assigned at birth. Or when I hear of another trans person that died way too young under suspicious circumstances at best, like Jax Gratton or Nex Benedict. Or when I have to look up the laws of a state I’m traveling to for my own safety. I’m scared when I think of my financial situation right now. It’s scary for most people, but there’s an
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At my grandma’s house was a giant willow tree. It stood at the edge of a small hill in a meadow, its grand curtain of leaves and branches draping round about it luxuriantly. It was easily ten feet across at its base and seemed to be the closest thing to an immortal being I would ever encounter. Every summer for decades, on whichever occasion saw all the grandkids assembled, we would all clamber up into the nooks and crannies of this living colossus and someone’s mom would snap a picture. For years it seemed there was no stopping this time-honored tradition-- as solid as the ancient fixture of that sunny meadow.
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The Gospel reading for this Advent season plunges us into a moment of high tension and profound theological conflict. In Matthew 11 and 12, people are trying to figure Jesus out. The two chapters build to a crescendo when Jesus heals a blind and mute man, an act of liberating compassion that should be unambiguously good. The crowd wonders, “Is this not the Son of David?”—a title freighted with messianic hope. But the religious authorities, the Pharisees, respond with a corrosive interpretation: “It is only by Beelzebul, the ruler of demons, that this fellow casts out the demons” (Matthew 12:24).
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Advent is not a season that rushes. It unfolds slowly, inviting us to pay attention, to hold both hope and sorrow at the same time. And today, on the third Sunday of Advent—Gaudete Sunday—we’re invited to rejoice. That’s what Gaudete means in Latin: “rejoice.” The candles on the Advent wreath shift in color today, from the deep purple of repentance and longing to a rose-tinted light of joy. It’s a visual reminder that even in the middle of waiting, God’s promises are breaking through.
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Throughout history and in the world today, children are among the most marginalized of social groups, but their oppression often goes overlooked or is not taken seriously. Of course, the injustice specific children face will be exacerbated in some children more than others from certain intersections of identity. Black and brown children, for instance, are more likely to be victims of police violence than white children. Girl children are more likely than boy children to be sexually abused, although sexual abuse does happen to children of all genders, usually from within those children’s own families. Children in colonized countries such as Palestine are in danger of death or injury from war in a way children from wealthier countries are not. And trans and queer children face harm from non-affirming religious institutions such as fundamentalist churches and conversion therapy centers.
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God’s Love is Always With Us Romans 1:1-7 Oh to be covered by God’s love and His only Son with ever flowing grace, peace AND LOVE!! I love to say, “I’m so glad that God is not like us”. God’s mercy, love, and grace are ever flowing, covering and protecting us. During this Advent season,
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When the Angels appeared to the shepherds, they delivered a message that was precise and powerful. They told them who is born, where they can find him, and how they will recognize them. This commentary is about the first of those three issues: who is born. The Angels used three titles to describe this newborn child: Savior, Christ, Lord. As Savior he is the one who has come to deliver God’s people from the current distress and to bring them freedom. As Christ, he is the anointed leader to take God’s people forward into the future of what we might call the Beloved Community. As Lord, he is the embodiment and source of everything that is good.
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It had been four years since Mom died, and the announcement of my impending gender change from male to female had hit Dad especially hard. He told me that he had spent three whole days with his pastor searching the scriptures to find anything that would support my changes, to no avail. Dad was clearly worried about me. Dad lived in the home he and Mom had built in the North Georgia mountains, and I was visiting him before Christmas to help him prepare for the arrival of the family, both of my younger sisters and their husbands and children. We were having lunch in the best place in town, the cafeteria for the junior college.
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As a child, I remember hearing the story of the birth of Christ for the first time. It always felt like magic to me. Animals followed a star, angels appeared from the heavens, and three rich men came from nowhere to kneel before a baby and declare, “All is well.” They brought him gifts fit for royalty. Growing up in an evangelical Pentecostal Spanish-speaking church, we brought that story to life every Christmas. My mother played Mary once, her round belly hidden under layers of fabric. In one swift motion, her stomach flattened, and a baby doll wrapped in a white sheet from Target appeared in her arms. The crowd gasped. The baby glimmered in the light above the burgundy carpeted pulpit. The congregation erupted in praise, shouting, “¡Nuestro Salvador ha nacido!” Our Savior is born.
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On December 31, 1862, enslaved and free African Americans gathered for Freedom’s Eve. Abraham Lincoln signed the Emancipation Proclamation on September 22nd, but it did not become law until January 1st. Gathering in secret, the soon to be liberated, sang songs, told stories and counted down the seconds until their freedom materialized. Honoring the legacy of the first Watch Night, some Black churches sing-in the New Year and tell stories that inspire their community to continue seeking liberation and freedom (internally and externally) from all that is oppressing them. This week’s texts similarly encourage us to claim our wholeness, draw closer to God and to dream beyond the limits of what is realistic in the confines of our current world.
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On the wall above my desk, a Black transfem draped in blue, pink, and white holds up a hand in benediction, while a similarly robed transmasc figure receives a heavenly crown; a shirtless chest displays a sacred heart tattooed between top surgery scars; a trans angel announces that TO BE QUEER IS TO BE HOLY. I’ve been gathering and creating art that commingles trans and sacred imagery since 2016; my wall has become a personal repository of reminders that, as an embroidery hoop I made declares, WE HAVE ALWAYS EXISTED. As hateful people relentlessly describe us as a fad at best or, at worst, a contagion worming its way into previously unsullied society, my constellation of artwork maps out a different st
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In this Epiphany season the birth of Jesus Christ assures us of God’s presence and identity in our hearts and in our lives. Because of this we may take solace in times of uncertainty and darkness, for we know that Jesus, the light of the world, has come. The Apostle Paul’s letter of Ephesians was written to gentile Christians to remind them that although they were once alienated from God and God’s people, the Jews, they would now be made whole and included within the family of God. Thus, restoration and veneration become sacred acts in Epiphany. It is here where we recommit ourselves as one.
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