LGBTQ Army of the Cross of Christ

We have reached the Sunday of the Passion. Which is to say, the Sunday that ends Lent (well sort of, still no meat until after Good Friday!) and begins Holy Week. Where are we today, on the Sunday of the Passion?

I am in love with my husband, and in love with my life, and in love with our home.

My Oregon elderberry plants, which somehow made it through the winter, are now almost 3” tall. I think that’s a miracle. I can’t wait for ten years from now when they will have those lovely red berries all winter.

Darcelle XV, the famous Portland drag queen, passed last week. It was momentous for Portlandia, to whom she was really a folk idol; to the LGBTQ community she was a hero. Curiously,all Portland was celebrating her rich life just as our homophobic siblings in red states were trying to outlaw drag.

The tulip festival, which is a magnificent display of tulips in the shadows of Mounts Hood, St. Helens and Jefferson, is delayed (like my garden, where I have a few crocus and a single daffodil blooming, but I can see buds forming elsewhere) because it has been so cold and yipes!, it keeps snowing (albeit, it doesn’t stick here on the floor of the Willamette Valley; no telling what it’s like at the tulip farm, which is at a higher elevation).

Still, Easter is knocking at our doorstep. We have reached the Sunday of the Passion via a riotous journey. We have come through war, climate change, train derailments, eternal politics, attacks on trans people and drag queens, inflation … a pandemic even.

One might say we have come mercifully to the Sunday of the Passion.

When Jesus reached the outskirts of Jerusalem [Matthew 22:1-11] he sent his disciples to find a donkey he could ride into the city. They not only found him a donkey, they lined the streets with their cloaks and those of the crowd that gathered to honor Him.

The Psalmist [118:19-22, 28-29] gave thanks for the gates of righteousness, which always are open, for the opportunity to give thanks to God who always answers, for the opportunity to be the cornerstone of faith.

Like the followers of Isaiah [50:4-9a], we have heard the call of God: “Let us stand up together.” We, the queers of the world, must stand up to the fearful who would see us “erased.” We are not alone, most of God’s other children love us and support us. We need only stand up to be counted, to be victorious, to walk in the way of love and share in resurrection.

And we must share in the meal Jesus gave us to eat 2000 years ago [Matthew 26:26-27], and which we, like gazillions of God’s children, partake of daily ever since … give thanks, take, eat, give thanks, take, drink. This is God’s covenant with us, eternity is now.

And then have a look at the end of this story: who is gathered there at the foot of the cross [Matthew 26:54-57]? The centurion, terrified, many women,weeping, and a rich man from outland. Outcasts all, standing up together. These, like us, are the army of the cross of Christ.

We, indeed, are the LGBTQ army of the cross of Christ.

Palm Sunday (Sunday of the Passion) Year A RCL 2023: Liturgy of the Palms (Matthew 21:1-11; Psalm 118:1-2, 19-29); The Liturgy of the Word (Isaiah 50:4-9a; Psalm 31:9-16; Philippians 2:5-11; Matthew 26:14- 27:66)

©The Rev. Dr. Richard P. Smiraglia. All rights reserved.

Lower than the angels*

Jesus is the master of the metaphor: “Whoever does not receive the kingdom of God as a little child will never enter it” he says, in Mark 10: 15. Last week I wrote about the idea of “child” in these synoptic Gospels, reminding readers that for Jesus, children were not the precious innocent things of our time, but rather were thought of more like vermin. Children were often competitors for food and shelter and water. They were outcasts, unless they had been fortunate enough to have been born to parents of royal cast. So, it is easy enough, if you really understand the scripture, to see today’s lgbt population as “little children” in Jesus’ metaphor. Outcasts, competitors of the majority, and Jesus is saying “unless you can see God’s reality in the way they see it, you cannot see God’s reality.”

Fascinating. Because it means we, the lgbt children of God, are those who see God’s reality most clearly. Now, I know that is true, just because I know I love my husband with all of my being. That’s enough evidence for me. What about you? The love you experience is your view of God’s reality in the life into which God has called you.

Today is Philadephia’s OutFest, a huge lgbt street fair. And since 1997 I have had a booth at it on behalf of the Episcopal church in the region; since 2010 we have had a booth on behalf of our own parish church. I love the sweep of people as the lgbt community flows past the table, picking out brochures and asking questions. I love the reality of the ministry right there on the street in the community. I love watching the crowd and being reminded of how God sees God’s reality among living, loving, lgbt people.

The letter to the Hebrews, which is appointed scripture this week, has a great metaphor in it as well, about how Jesus, being made human, was forced to be (for awhile) lower than the angels. And, we, because of that, were allowed to rise up to that place where, with Jesus, we also were just lower than the angels. This, of course, is the place where true happiness and godliness are known in our souls. This is what it means to be fully gay as God has made us. It is where we dance with these angels who protect us on our march toward freedom and fulfillment as children of God.

We probably will be rained out today at the OutFest. But even if that happens, the truth remains. It is that huge swath of reality, of real lgbt people who got up this morning with their kids, their divorces, their court orders, their relationship issues, and their dogs, and came down to the Gayborhood looking for a little bit of life, a little bit of community, a little bit of the healing of being accepted.

And that is what Jesus offers.

So rain or shine, whether we take our booth to sit in the rain or decide to pass this year, either way, the truth is visible in that parade of lgbt humanity that shows us the true exodus of God’s chosen people en route to the land of milk and honey.

Right, honey?

*Proper 22 (Job 1:1; 2:1-10: Psalm 26; Hebrews 1:1-4; 2:5-12; Mark 10:2-16) ©2012The Rev. Dr. Richard P. Smiraglia. All rights reserved.