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We had an interesting church service yesterday. We celebrated the baptism and naming ceremony for a transgender man named Morgan.

Morgan had driven by our church countless times. He had seen our signs proclaiming inclusivity, but he did not trust church rhetoric. The larger church had told him that gender is binary and that people like him who do not fit into the church’s simplistic duality were a dangerous perversion. When Morgan finally did come to our church, he sat on the back row as near to the exit as he could get.

When I got a chance to meet Morgan for coffee I realized he was the person I had read about in the Washington Post. Morgan resigned from a position with the state of Texas because he realized he was unintentionally helping Gov. Greg Abbott and the State of Texas traumatize families whose teens were struggling with issues of gender and identity.

I found out quickly that Morgan is a very innocent and trusting person. I realized my tacky sense of humor was going to be a problem. After we got to know each other, Morgan said he had seen the Transgender flag on our church sign. I acted embarrassed and said, “Oh, I’m so sorry. That was the flag of Uruguay!” Eventually Morgan laughed, but I realized I needed to be more careful with this innocent and trusting soul.

I, too, had learned in church a simplistic moralism based on a binary notion of gender. After all, the Bible says that God created humans male and female. In seminary I learned that taking a Hebrew word literally in English can lead to terrible errors.

For example, the Bible also says God created night and day. That does not mean that there is only night and day. It does not mean that dusk and dawn are perversions. I realized the mistakenness of moralism based on a binary understanding of gender when I was in seminary.

I was serving as a chaplain in a hospital in Oklahoma. One day, when I decided to take a break in the surgery library, a huge book caught my eye. The book must have been six inches across. Curious about what such a large book might be, I went up to get a closer look.

To my shock the book was about surgery procedures for children born between binary genders. Opening the book I read with horror and fascination about members of my human family who did not fit in my simplistic binary definitions. I realized if this ambiguity was happening externally, I had no idea what was happening invisibly inside other people. I realized I had to leave my simplistic certainty behind if I was to follow the call to love.

My text for Sunday’s sermon was Paul’s great passage in Galatians:

“There is neither Jew nor Greek, there is neither slave nor free, there is neither male nor female; for you are all one in Christ Jesus.”

I hear that passage saying that Christlike love for other people must be bigger than their (or our) gender roles, bigger than their (or our) politics, and even bigger than their (or our) religion. We are not baptized into Christianity but into universal love.

In the early church, baptized people often given a new name to honored their new life. We wanted to celebrate Morgan’s new life by honoring name he has chosen for himself. Rev. Babs Miller handled the naming ceremony using a liturgy shared by the Rev. Janie Spahr.

During the baptism, Morgan was crying. Most of the congregation was crying. After the baptism the congregation rose to give Morgan a standing ovation. They wanted him to know he was a beloved and honored member of our church family . When the ceremony ended, and the Sanctuary was filled with joyous chaos Morgan bent over and whispered conspiratorially, “Viva Uruguay!”

Whether we are religious or not it can be helpful to live in a community that honors our art, our quest for meaning and our desire to make this a better world.

Human beings are social animals. Our emotions can be confusing to us if we do not share them with others. Communities of art have often been helpful in the flowering of creativity. To have an oasis where we do not have to defend ourselves can be very helpful in learning to hear and sing our own song.

Religion has traditionally had rituals of individuation and bonding, of healing and transformation, and of sharing gratitude and grief. Even if one leaves traditional religion, it can still be helpful to find a community of art.

It can also be helpful to seek out a safe place to learn and grow with others. In a community of meaning one can ask the deep questions of life without having others rush to provide answers. After our community has listened and honored our questions and our fledgling insights, it can also be helpful to hear other insights and points of view. When ancient or modern wisdom texts are understood as cosmic poetry (not science or history) they can be a wonderful way of widening and deepening our perception.

Finally, finding communities of activism can be very helpful in responding to the needs of the world. We cannot give money to every cause or take in every needy person. In community we can welcome the stranger without running every risk and carrying every weight alone. Prophetic communities can help us live as change agents and models of what the world could be.

Through art and activism communities can help us live out on a small scale what we hope the world might be for everyone. Again, whether we are religious or not, it can be helpful to live in a community that honors our art, our quest for meaning and our activism.

“By identifying new learning with heresy, you make orthodoxy synonymous with ignorance.” -Desiderius Erasmus (Catholic priest and humanist philosopher)

I’m so grateful our church library committee has set aside an entire section for banned books. The books in the picture came from Pride Month. This month the library features books that look at our nation’s founding from the perspective the people who were originally here. The myths of Thanksgiving cloak an American holocaust.

There are those who believe that by learning about our nation’s flaws children will learn to hate America. It seems to me much more unpatriotic to say we cannot love America if we are honest about our history. It seems to me anyone who loves this nation will want it to be better -not just stronger or richer, but more just.

Many politicians don’t want school children to even hear about the experiences of non-white and non-heterosexual people. It’s obvious why. Once you see others as fully human, traditional hierarchies of domination can be seen for the violence really they are.

When Jesus was here to defend his teachings from religious demagogues it was quite clear that he was calling people to love.

Not to moralism, but to love.

Not to belief, but to love.

Not to ritualism, but to love.

Not to Christianity, but to love.

Frederic Farrar was an Archdeacon of Westminster Abbey and also a pall bearer for Charles Darwin. He wrote: “(People) may be heretic(s) in the truth, and if (they) believe things only because (their) pastor says so, or the assembly so determines, without knowing another reason, though (their) belief be true, yet the very truth (they hold) becomes (their) heresy.”

We cannot love universally within the boundaries of any nation or creed. Love calls us to be heretics to every lesser calling.
The Atheist Robert Ingersoll understood this aspect of love better than most Christians. He said:

“Heresy is a cradle; orthodoxy a coffin.”

I am all for unity, but there is no bridge that can be built between truth and lies. Pseudoscience and religious superstitions grow only in caves of individual opinion. Comfortable illusions wither before the common light of day. The pursuit of truth is hard and often humiliating to our sectarian arrogance but we cannot communicate with those who are different unless we value our common reality more than our own opinions.

There is no bridge that can be built between justice and hierarchies of oppression. I will love my neighbor no matter what, but I will not purchase the friendship of any person at the expense of the basic rights of another. There is no bridge to be found between narcissistic nationalism and the common good of our human family. While I love my nation, I will love no group more than I love the whole. This is what it means to be an ethical person. Justice is a scale that measures every claim by an equal standard. There is no peace without justice, and justice cannot be dissected into national, political or sectarian boundaries.

I am all for unity, but true solidarity is based on universal principles that include everyone, not in political compromises that primarily serve those with power and wealth. There is no unity to be found among those who will not rise above their own partisan opinions and ask, “what is true and good for us all?”

I am all for unity, but there is no bridge that can be built between truth and lies. Pseudoscience and religious superstitions grow only in caves of individual opinion. Comfortable illusions wither before the common light of day. The pursuit of truth is hard and often humiliating to our sectarian arrogance but we cannot communicate with those who are different unless we value our common reality more than our own opinions.

There is no bridge that can be built between justice and hierarchies of oppression. I will love my neighbor no matter what, but I will not purchase the friendship of any person at the expense of the basic rights of another. There is no bridge to be found between narcissistic nationalism and the common good of our human family. While I love my nation, I will love no group more than I love the whole. This is what it means to be an ethical person. Justice is a scale that measures every claim by an equal standard. There is no peace without justice, and justice cannot be dissected into national, political or sectarian boundaries.

I am all for unity, but true solidarity is based on universal principles that include everyone, not in political compromises that primarily serve those with power and wealth. There is no unity to be found among those who will not rise above their own partisan opinions and ask, “what is true and good for us all?”

It is understandable if you feel without hope this week. Do what it takes to rest and heal. But also know this: When the time for ethical action arises, there is greatness deep within you that will emerge if you will let it.

How do I know this? I am thinking of my own role models for activism. Gandhi and Martin Luther King were shot down without pity, but not before they illumined this world with a peace that could not be shaken by fate. How can I call these people my role models if I wither when placed into the same situations they conquered?

So, think for a moment about your own role models for courage and justice. If they had lived in comfortable times we might never have heard of any of them.

Malala Yousafzai has inspired countless women to blossom into fulness even after being shot in the face in an attempt to silence her. She found an inextinguishable life and joy in the midst of such threats. If the time comes, we can, too.

The joy and peace of Thich Nhat Hanh were not developed in a pleasant retreat center. They emerged out of the horrors of the Viet Nam war. When you consider his peaceful smile, do not forget it was born like a phoenix out of unspeakable violence. If necessary, we can find peace in hard times, too.

The compassion of Arch Bishop Romero did not emerge from a quiet monastery but out of death squads of El Salvador. We’re all going to die, the only question is whether we will die of something or for something.

If any of these examples are people you have looked up to, there must be a spark within you of that same courage, peace and joy that is deeper than the storms we will be passing through. If our role models could find peace and joy in horrific times, so can we.

If you have loved the great souls of humankind, you must have some measure of that same greatness within you or you could not recognize it in others. Do what you need to do to get through the initial shock of what looks like a national crisis, but if the time for ethical greatness comes, remember this as well: You can do this.

This is a hard time for people who care about universal human rights. After yesterday’s election some of you may need a time to rest and even to grieve.

I won’t list the human and environmental damage that will occur in a second Trump administration. You know the list as well as I. So, if you need to, give yourself the gift of rest and healing. But at some point you will probably ask, “Where do we go from here?”

This morning I am remembering Arthur Ashe’s suggestion: “Start where you are. Use what you have. Do what you can.” This may be good advice for some of us. Let’s break it down:

“START WHERE YOU ARE”

If we want to find the leverage to change the world it is essential to stop pretending the world is what we want it to be. Optimism is mere delusion if it distorts our view of what is actually happening. Where we find ourselves at a given time in history is the only starting point to learn and teach life’s most important lessons.

It is a waste of the precious gift of life to mope away our days because our political conditions are unfair. In fact, unfair political conditions can be the perfect place to put our highest values into practice. While it is exhausting to think of spending our lives fighting evil, it is inspiring to think of how we might love our human family enough to champion their rights even when their rights are ignored by a powerful majority population.

“USE WHAT YOU HAVE”

At one point in my life I realized that the heroes and she-roes I most idolized were all born into worse times than I have ever known. The unfairness of their time was the backdrop allowing them to point to a better way. I realized if all these noble souls had chosen love over despair, I really had no excuse to sit on my hands. In fact, I learned that my own despair was usually the part of my life I was holding back from the struggle for the common good.

“DO WHAT YOU CAN”

History is a never ending story. There is no finish line in the race for human rights. Our purpose is not to “win” rights once and for all within our own time. Our calling is to be a faithful part of the LONG unfolding story of humankind in victory AND defeat.

It is a life well lived to learn and teach the love that grows into justice for all. In fact, the bleaker our conditions, the more the light of love will shine. Throughout history, human rights have been won by noble souls willing to lose political battles to teach the deeper principles that would include us all.

I also remember the words of Ruth Bader Ginsberg this morning:

“(Judicial) dissents speak to a future age. It’s not simply to say, ‘My colleagues are wrong and I would do it this way.’ But the greatest dissents do become court opinions and gradually over time their views become the dominant view. So that’s the dissenter’s hope: that they are writing not for today but for tomorrow.”

So take the time you need to rest and heal, but then remember that your human family needs you. If you choose to say “yes” to that challenge it will lead you to a life of nobility whether you win or lose politically in your own time.

I was once at a women’s conference in San Antonio. I remember Maya Angelou reading a wonderful poem. I think Gloria Steinem was also there. A woman was introduced as being from a “third world country” (more accurately, a colonized nation.) She was asked by the well dressed interviewer how she kept from being discouraged. The interviewer confessed that she sometimes lost hope when she looked at our current problems.

My memory is foggy about the details but it seems like the woman being interviewed was from an exploited nation in Africa. What I remember clearly is that she took a deep breath and tried to say as politely as she could:

“The oppressed cannot afford the luxury of despair.”

Her words were a real wake up call for me. This may be the most important election of our lifetimes, but either way the vote goes we will have work to do.

The problems in this country have not developed overnight. Racism, sexism and a predatory economics did not arrive suddenly with the MAGA movement. These cancerous lesions in the American Dream came over on the Mayflower. White landed males who spoke of freedom as they enslaved and exploited their fellow human beings were the imperfect understandings of human rights that must now blossom to include all persons.

In some ways, this may be the most important election of our lifetime. At the same time, we must remember that our ethical foundation is not on the line with this one election. Our human family will need us either way this election goes. We cannot afford the luxury of despair if our side loses, and we cannot afford the opium of complacency if our side wins.

Either way this election goes, after we have grieved or celebrated the outcome, we must wipe ourselves off and recommit ourselves to the goal of life liberty and the pursuit of happiness for our entire human family.

While the real Jesus was something of an anarchist, internationalist and even socialist, the American Jesus is more like a mascot for Western capitalism and imperialism.

The golden crown and the white skin should be giveaways that this Jesus is counterfeit. That flag by the pulpit should be all it takes to spot that a particular church is a vassal to the wealth and violent power of its own national culture, not to any universal ethic that could encompass us all.

When Jesus asked people to follow him there wasn’t an institutional church to join, nor a creed to parrot. To “follow Jesus” does not mean to join an institution, it means to share our world with those who have less and to serve the universal love for which Jesus lived and died.

As I’ve said so many times before, a kind Atheist is much closer to the example of Jesus than any religionist who teaches cruelty and superstition under the label of “Christianity.”

To “follow Jesus” does not meant to bend one’s knee to the imperialism of one’s nation nor theocratic institutions. To “follow Jesus” means to find the mustard seed of love within oneself and to let it grow into a fierce and tender justice that gives shelter to all.

“The blues is not the creation of a crushed-spirited people. It is the product of a forward-looking, upward-striving people.” (Albert Murray)

Great artists are amazing to me. The fact that an old time blues player can transform sadness into a music I feel with my own heart suggests there is a common coin in human suffering and a deeper beauty that encompasses grief as well as joy.

A blues guitarist invites us to feel something deeper within our melancholy. Somehow, by singing a song in a minor chord and playing a note within that chord with a certain dissonance, blues artists are able to help us “hear” something beautiful within sadness.

The dissonant sounds in a blues song are called the “blue” notes. Sometimes, the blue note is played a little flat. Sometimes, a string is stretched to produce an uncomfortable sharpness. Sometimes the blue note is only implied as the artist shifts from one note to another.

The blues, like gospel music, were born out of the experience of an enslaved people. They are not like the superficial affirmations well meaning friends say to make us feel better. The blues invite us to sit with sadness until we can feel our own hearts through their music. The blues do not rush to find a cure for human sadness. Their great art is to sit in the pain until our hearts remember a common humanity deeper within us than our individual storms.

As I say, I am amazed at old time blues artists. It is a strange experience to feel my own heart strings plucked while listening to someone else’s sad song. Perhaps the lesson here is that it is sometimes better not to try to rush out of the sadness resulting from the human condition. If we can feel each other’s pain through the stretching of a string, perhaps we are never really alone so long as we can slow down and listen to the music of a broken heart.