another year

normally, i'm the kind of person who is highly refective. i usually post something around this time considering the year, what i accomplished, and what i'd like to see in the coming year.

i don't particularly want to do that this year.

but, i'm going to make myself do it.

2017 was a really good year. it was a year that i finally found balance and learned how to love myself and take care of myself in a way that didn't perpetuate shame for the ways i had seemingly let myself down. i learned contentment.

and then there was 2018. nothing about this year was what i expected it to be. to consider some of the goals i had set for myself: i didn't finish my thesis or theology degree, i didn't leave the country, i didn't get a new tattoo. i did, however, launch a private practice (sort of), lose 20+lbs, knit a harry potter sweater, and i have almost written a book (though it is not the one i had in mind when i set the goal).

again, i am reminded that much of what i have accomplished is not specifically measurable, so i suppose i should consider the second set of goals i had for the year:

love well and as much as possible learn always stop being an awkward mess spend more time with hella queer people chill the fuck out

i think i accomplished these. it wasn't easy. in fact, it was magical, holy, scary, heartbreaking, and painful. and i'm still not sure where i stand. at this point last year, i was very sure of my footing and ready for whatever was to come. this year, at this point, i don't feel so steady. which is simply to say that given how the year progressed, it is not ending how i thought it would. given where i stood at this point last year, i am not where i thought i'd be.

in many ways, i have taken leaps forward this year. and in some ways it seems i have to catch back up to the person i was at the end of 2017. i'm trying to hold those two things together.

next year, i'm keeping two goals: love well learn always

can i be a christian and not be part of the church?

My professor asked this question toward the end of class last Tuesday. My hand immediately shot up to say something to the effect of, "yes please, let's try to answer this question." I know it isn't that simple. I know he was trying to get at the complexity of the question and the nuance of the answer. My point in making that statement was that this question is relevant for me.

A little background: in 2014, I left the congregation I had devoted myself to, the church I found my family in. I left because this organization is abusive. Let me be clear, I am not calling the individual people involved abusive. I felt abused by the systems and structures that are put in place, that individuals are forced to adhere to. It wasn't until I left that I realized just how oppressive this environment was. It wasn't until I left that I began to feel free enough, safe enough, to be honest with myself. It wasn't until I left that I was able to see myself for who I have been created to be. I have been in seminary since 2012, and having that journey coincide with leaving church has been difficult to say the least. I have felt my faith expand and open in ways that some deem unacceptable. Simply setting foot on campus is an act of courage for me most days.

So this question means something to me.

Hozier, an Irish musician, released a song called "Take Me to Church" in 2013. It deeply resonated with me at the time, and still does in rich and challenging ways. His lyrics can offer a powerful reflection on the meaning of the Church and the ways that it can limit and even harm those of us who do not quite fit the mold. I'm using some of his lyrics to guide this conversation.

This is hungry work

This is a question about immanence. This question has present reality. You can make it about who gets into heaven, but you would be wrong to do so. It is a bodily question and it must deal with all of our lives: sex, pleasure, mental illness, aging, isolation, poverty, disability, racism, and our need for each other and the earth. If it does not deal with these things, it is incomplete, dishonest, hopeless even. If the gospel does not speak to these things, then being a "Christian" is irrelevant.

My church offers no absolutes

"Church" is often associated with a set of beliefs, doctrines, dogmas. If you do not assent intellectually to these "truths," you don't get in. Sometimes these beliefs are explicitly stated in a Statement of Faith, and sometimes they are implicit in our attitudes, actions, decisions, worship. Either way, they function as a filter, those who differ are weeded out. The second approach is particularly harmful because it makes people feel that they don't belong without it having to be directly stated. There's no accountability.

If there is anything post-modernism has taught us, it's that our categories - our absolutes - are limited. So perhaps this question isn't about the absolutes, whether we fit into the binary of yes-no or in-out. Perhaps this is a question about belonging. Perhaps it is asking "is there space for me, my body, my experience, in your theology?" Do we find God in dogmatic assent or do we find God in the encounter between two or more bodies who bring their authenticity with love and reciprocity?

No masters or kings when the ritual begins

Maybe the sacraments would help in considering this question. Baptism and Eucharist are the two primary sacraments that form the Protestant life. The specifics of the practice of each vary between denominations and congregations, but the basics carry through.

Baptism is a mark of conversion, an act of participation, an initiation into community. Christians celebrate this moment with water, as Jesus did. But baptism exists in many forms and in many communities. It is a rite of passage. Baptism is about belonging. I experienced a baptismal moment the first time I stepped into a queer night club. Christians do not own the idea of Baptism. Our guiding question is asking whether my Christian baptism and my queer baptism can co-exist. It is asking whether a Christian baptism and a disabled baptism can co-exist. Does all of me get to belong?

Eucharist is a communion of the faithful across space and time. It is the sharing of a meal, a meal that invokes the presence of Jesus and all that entails. But what does our Eucharist mean if it does not feed the poor, if someone is left out, if someone is denied access (either implicitly or explicitly)? The Eucharist is an equalizer, or at least it should be. We participate in the body and blood of Christ in the same way as the saints through the ages, and on equal footing. This is what we proclaim, but if my body does not fit, if you won't hear my voice, am I really equal?

Good God, let me give you my life

A set of criteria for who is in or out would be easy. But life is not easy. Faith is not easy. Things are never that simple. We have been arguing from the beginning about the right way to do and be, but we'll never have the answers. What we can do is love, make space, invite, celebrate. It is so easy to do these things with people who look like, sound like, feel like, and agree with us. But at no point is that what we are called to. At every turn we are called out of our comfort zones. We are called to welcome the outsider in. There is no line between being in and being out anymore.

Instead of asking "can I be a Christian and not be part of the Church?" perhaps a more helpful question is "how am I limiting access to belonging?"

nye2017

so i didn’t accomplish all of my goals for this year, but i’m happy with what i did. it was not a great year for the country as a whole, but personally it was a banner year after a few that were not so great. highlights include going to queer camp, getting a new tattoo, and returning to Scotland.

i started this year solidly in recovery mode, and i can honestly say that i have made it back to (mostly) fully functional and happy. i feel pretty good about the work i have done, the space i am in, and what’s up ahead. it is so good to feel this way again.

the best ways i have cared for myself this year included travel, reading, and working hard to finish school. i am incredibly privileged to get to visit other places in the world, to learn from them, and to get outside of myself in that way. i am incredibly privileged to have access to books that are fun, teach me things, and keep me growing. in this spirit, here is my year in books and cities:

2017 in Cities

Los Angeles/Redondo Beach, CA
Vancouver, BC, Canada
London, England
Edinburgh, Scotland
Inverness, Scotland
Portree, Isle of Skye, Scotland
(And numerous Scottish towns in between)
Sacramento, CA
Salt Lake City, UT
Tombstone, AZ
Silver City, NM
Austin, TX
New York, NY

2017 in Books

Outlander - Diana Gabaldon
Dragonfly In Amber - Diana Gabaldon
Voyager - Diana Gabaldon
Drums of Autumn - Diana Gabaldon
The Fiery Cross - Diana Gabaldon
A Breath of Snow and Ashes - Diana Gabaldon
An Echo in the Bone - Diana Gabaldon
Written in My Own Heart’s Blood - Diana Gabaldon
Kindred - Octavia Butler
Parable of the Sower - Octavia Butler
Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone - JK Rowling
Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets - JK Rowling
Harry Potter and the Prisoner of Azkaban - JK Rowling
Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire - JK Rowling
Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix - JK Rowling
Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince - JK Rowling
Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows - JK Rowling
A Ring of Endless Light - Madeleine L’Engle
A Wrinkle in Time - Madeleine L’Engle
A Wind in the Door - Madeleine L’Engle
A Swiftly Tilting Planet - Madeleine L’Engle
Many Waters - Madeleine L’Engle
Between the World and Me - Ta-Nehisi Coates
Time Lord Fairy Tales
The Fifth Season - NK Jemisin
The Obelisk Gate - NK Jemisin
The Stone Sky - NK Jemisin

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here are my goals for next year.

graduate again
launch a private practice
leave the country (to visit, not move...yet)
get a tattoo
lose 20lbs
join a soccer team
finish writing my book
read one book per month (for fun) - all new books written by queer/trans or POCs
write a thesis
create one piece of art per month
visit the family
finish knitting a harry potter sweater

i learned this last year that a lot of what i accomplished wasn’t quite as measurable as the goals that i had made for myself, so in that spirit, here are some general things i’d like to accomplish this year as well:

love well and as much as possible
learn always
stop being an awkward mess
spend more time with hella queer people
play more video games
chill the fuck out

here's to 2018!

christmas

god is with us, so let’s get naked and love
christmas

for unto us, a child is born. the child who reveals that human and divine are eternally entwined and coexisting.

the light is here, it is time to wake up. it is time to open our eyes, remove our fig leaves, and act like people who have god with them.

when i started these reflections, i told you i was going to “queer” advent. i didn’t actually use the word queer, and i didn’t talk about any characters in the story being LGBTQIA, so you may be wondering whether i even accomplished my goal, and if i did, how did i queer advent?

one of the primary approaches of queer theology is undoing dualism. dualism is the idea that there are only two categories that things can fall into. here are some common examples when it comes to christian theology:
sin vs righteousness (or holy vs unholy)
male vs female
chosen vs other
human vs divine

dualistic thinking is normal and healthy, up to a point. our minds need to make categories that things fit into because it helps us make sense of the world around us. but at some point, we must progress into the world of abstract thought, of understanding that our categories are limited and can’t handle the nuance that we begin to see around us. things are never black and white.

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religion in general is an attempt for humanity to make meaning of our existence in the world, to understand what it is that is bigger than ourselves and how we fit with that. in the christian story, taken as a whole, we can see this narrative play out. we are constantly trying to figure out how to connect to or relate to the divine. i believe this is true in other religions, regardless of what the divine means to you. we share in the creation of meaning with the divine. it is a conversation, mutual meaning-making.

when i look at the whole story, i see that in the beginning humanity and divine existed together fully, and that something happened along the way that changed how we understood that. most christians would call that sin followed by god’s punishment, but i think that’s too simple. hopefully the point that i made is that the mutuality and reciprocity of relationship between human and divine has always been there, and rather than separation being a punishment for sin, it is the natural consequence of human decision to change the terms of relationship and institute our own systems and structures that force a separation.

god is love, and all one has to do is take a look at the news to see how our laws, our structures, our systems are not loving. but that does not mean that we do not still have access to the divine. i think that’s why the story of jesus matters. in him we see what love in human form looks like. we see him love without discrimination, and we see him challenges the systems that oppress. jesus is our invitation to participate in divine love again.

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i “queered” advent by doing away with the dualistic idea that human is separate from divine. and therefore, if this is the case, every single human possesses the divine presence. and this is why we must wake up to our privilege, to our power, to the ways we oppress others, and figure out how to love like we have god with us.

advent week four

power and presence
advent week four
2 samuel 7:1-11, 16

this bit of samuel brings us the story of king david. david wants to build god a place to live. (chronologically, this is before the destruction of the temple in jerusalem, and before the exile in babylon.)

david looks around at his beautiful home and says, “what a great house i have here. I should build god a house.”

god responds, “you’re gonna build me a house? listen here, i have been with you since the beginning, since egypt, through the wilderness; i was with you when you were ruled by judges, and i am with you now, and i have never asked for a house. but you want to build me a house? ok. fine.”

and then god clarifies things. god says, “i will make you a house.” god speaks in the metaphor of kings that Israel has demanded, and it is easy to assume that this word from god means that god will build a “house” or lineage of david’s kingdom (prophecy foretelling jesus, perhaps). but i think it is bigger than this.

i think god is saying that Israel itself is god’s house. god doesn’t need a house because god already dwells within the people themselves.

and lest we think that god dwells only with the Israelites, let us remember that god blesses Israel to bless all nations, that the good news is for the jew and the gentile, and most of all that god was with adam and eve before god’s covenant with abraham and before the existence of the Israelites.

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this bit in samuel also reminds us of some of the stages of Israelite society and interaction with god. so, here’s a quick review of some of the highlights we’ve covered so far: god and humanity begin with a close, intimate, shameless, mutual-knowing kind of relationship at creation; god appoints judges to rule over the Israelites (at their request); god appoints a king to rule over Israel (at their request); god allows david to build god a house (at david’s insistence); the house that david built in jerusalem is destroyed and the Israelites are sent away from their home.

at each turn in the story, humanity changes the terms of relationship with god, and god obliges. and it all starts with the fig leaf.

the fig leaf is humanity’s attempt to take control of the narrative. the fig leaf consists of the structures and systems that we put in place to categorize, describe, codify, our relationship to the divine. the fig leaf is power, and humanity’s attempt to wield it.

the law is a fig leaf.

the temple is a fig leaf.

the exile is a fig leaf.

dogma is a fig leaf.

denominations are a fig leaf.

USAmerican nationalism is a fig leaf.

heteronormativity is a fig leaf.

patriarchy is a fig leaf.

racism is a fig leaf.

because god was, and is, and always will be present.

in each of these moments of the story, we changed the terms of relationship, and the divine found a way to show up and love us anyway.

the truth, beauty, love and freedom of the incarnation, of the story of the divine dwelling with humanity - the gospel, if you will - is not that god is doing a new thing. the incarnation reveals that god always was with us. there was never a point at which our humanity was separate from the divine. we covered ourselves with a fig leaf.

emmanuel, a name for jesus, means “god with us.” and if that is really true, we don’t get to decide who god meant by “us.”

advent week three

the fig leaf
advent week three
genesis 3:7-13

i’m going to cheat here a little. instead of reflecting on one of the week three readings, i’m going back to the fig leaf in genesis 3.

immediately after adam and eve eat from the tree of knowledge of good and evil, they knew they were naked - and they covered themselves. nothing physically changed, they had been naked the whole time. naked and unashamed. naked and fully known. in fact, the idea of nakedness didn’t have meaning because naked is just how they existed.

what changed is not reality, but their relationship to it, their understanding of it.

the fig leaf was a solution to a perceived problem. adam and eve crossed a boundary, and even before attempting to negotiate repairs to the relationship with god, they took matters into their own hands.

the fig leaf is a covering. they realize they are naked, they feel vulnerable, they are afraid. so they react by hiding, isolating, and making assumptions about how god will react. they take matters into their own hands. they act unilaterally and without consideration of the other party in the relationship.

today, many christians call this “original sin.” but the word sin does not appear in this part of the story. what adam and eve do here is not named as sin.

i absolutely hate the idea of sin. sin has been used for thousands of years to elevate one set of rules for behavior over another. the idea of sin is for powerful people, and it keeps them in power above folks who “sin” against the set of rules that belongs to the powerful people.

so how about we reframe the conversation. the idea of sin comes from relationship, originally (in this context) attributed to the relationship between god and humanity. we like to convince ourselves that relationships follow predictable patterns and have rules for how people should behave in them. perhaps that’s why so much stake was placed in the law of the Torah. humanity realized the relationship with god had changed, but they didn’t know how to reconnect. having a set a rules to follow, something straightforward and specific, should make things easier, right? but people are nuanced and storied in a way that cannot be predicted. every person is different, every relationship is different.

if people are nuanced and hard to predict, how much more is god, the divine, the infinite, the incomprehensible?

sin is an attempt to make the unpredictable predictable, to control, to exert power. it is a construct, it is not universal law. if we must hold onto the idea of sin (which I actually think we don't need to do), let's think of it differently.

relationships are a constant negotiation of connection. it is a dance of moving towards and away from others as our circumstances, needs, and desires allow. if we conceptualize it this way, then “sin” can be thought of as a transgression of a boundary that a partner in relationship has set. most of the time, the transgression can be dealt with through repentance and renegotiation. but in order to do this healing work when a transgression happens, all parties need to be involved to find a solution that works for everyone, and according to god, involves both justice and mercy.

to bring this conceptualization back to the fig leaf, adam and eve did not include god in the solution they found to the transgression of boundaries. what they did changed the terms of the relationship, and instead of going to god to negotiate repair and reconciliation, they created a covering, something that moved them away from being fully known, seen, and loved by the divine.

they could not stand to remain naked and vulnerable - powerless - so they covered themselves.

advent week two

when comfort for one means destruction for another
advent week two
isaiah 40:1-11

the book of isaiah within the Hebrew scriptures is nothing short of a masterpiece. say what you will about the content and the millennia of interpretation that is heaped upon it, but the text itself weaves together multiple genres of poetry and prose to tell an agonizing story of a people separated from their god, their sense of meaning in the world.

first things first, isaiah is a prophet. no, a prophet is not a fortune teller, they do not predict the future. a prophet, particularly in the time(s) isaiah was written, is someone who speaks on behalf of god, someone who speaks the truth to the people. truth, in scripture, is something that equally and always challenges those in power and comforts those who are oppressed.

second, it is widely held that isaiah is written by at least three people, living at three different times, and was later compiled into one volume. during the course of the timelines of the writers, the Israelite people saw jerusalem (their home, and the city where the temple housing the presence of god was built) utterly destroyed. they were forced into exile (separated from what they understood as the presence of god) in the city of babylon. and finally, they returned to jerusalem after their exile to rebuild.

isaiah 40:1-11 is written during this exile. it is written to a people that has felt separated from their god, who long to return home, and who feel they have been punished more than enough. this passage is a commissioning for this second prophet (writer) of isaiah, god is calling this isaiah to comfort the people in this time, to let them know that what they desire will come to pass.

this bit of the story is also filled with the same apocalyptic imagery that we saw last week in mark. this is the kind of imagery that mark was echoing from the old stories. the prophets set the precedent for the movement of god to be heralded by events that change the landscape of the world as we know it.

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during the exile, Israel believed that god was not with them. and yet there are prophets who continue to share the word of god during this time. there is the story of shadrach, meshach, and abednego, who are visited by a mysterious figure when they are thrown into fire. god has not left them alone in babylon, god is simply doing something different.

what strikes me about the exile, and the arc of Israel’s story in general, is the way meaning is made. these stories were written down by men, and i believe they are inherently limited. i simply cannot believe that any of what we call scripture was divinely dictated. i do, however, believe that there is something about these stories that have been given life, the freedom to grow and change and interact with our world still. and i by no means believe that this is the only set of stories that have this power.

despite their limitations, the story of Israel is a story of a group of people trying to understand what it means to exist in this world, in all of its beauty and pain. it is an acknowledgement that there is something special about humanity, and still something so much bigger that seems to be at work. this set of stories is this community’s attempt to reckon with this.

they way they make meaning of the stories, of the way they understand god to be interacting with them along the way is fascinating. they keep changing the terms on god, and god continues to oblige.

the Israelites in exile are a conquered people. their existence has been laid low, and they were marched to a foreign land. the book(s) of isaiah are filled with images of terror that the israelites experienced. and in the midst of all this pain, the prophets implore Israel to pursue justice and mercy.

and yet, in isaiah 40, what seems to be comforting to the Israelites is release and freedom at the cost of the babylonian empire. the conquered people await the conquering of others. there is no mercy in this, it is perpetuating a cycle of violence based on the promise of redemption.

despite it being the voice of the prophets “on behalf of god,” i don’t think the cycle of redemptive violence that is portrayed here is what the god of Israel had in mind. i think Israel is taking some liberties with the concept of god to suit their own needs.

the story that scripture presents to us is that of a relationship between human and divine. it is a dance, a series of movements back and forth, of negotiation.

let me be clear in what I am claiming here: we are made in god’s image, and we make god in our own image.

and that’s okay.