Pride, Pronouns and Holy Trinity

John 16:12-15

[Jesus said,] “I still have many things to say to you, but you cannot bear them now. When the Spirit of truth comes, he will guide you into all truth, for he will not speak on his own but speak whatever he hears and declare to you the things that are to come. He will glorify me because he will take what is mine and declare it to you. All that the Father has is mine. For this reason I said, ‘he will take what is mine and declare it to you.’”

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99% of the time strangers mispronounce my last name – and have – for as long as I’ve had it. On the first day of school (“Hall, Hamilton, Harris, HAVEL …”); Making introductions at Synod Assembly (“Pastor Mark HAVEL, from Cross of Grace, New PaleSTINE…”); Every announcer at every baseball game ever… (“Batting for the Dragons, “Jackson HAVEL or Max HAVEL…”)

We rarely correct people. It’s the HAVEL way. I was actually just joking with my son’s new tennis coach, who was asking how to pronounce his name, that there could very well be people in my congregation who don’t know how to say my name because everyone just calls me “Pastor Mark.” And we’re fine with it. Really. We let it slide for the most part. Unless someone cares enough to ask about getting it right, we will be the HAVELs without incident, injury, or offense.

(It’s “HAVEL,” by the way. Like NAVEL with an H. Even though I rarely correct people, relatively speaking, I’ve probably said that about a million times in my life.)

All of this is to say, I have some history with the significance and importance of getting someone’s name right – or not – and wondering about why that matters, if that matters, should that matter, DOES that matter. And I’ve been thinking a lot about this lately where pronouns for gender non-conforming, non-binary, and transgender people in the LGBTQ+ community are concerned. Since June is PRIDE month and since today is Holy Trinity Sunday, I hope where I’m headed with all of this is as practical as it is holy … because I have a confession to make:

I have been confused and frustrated by all of this pronoun stuff lately. And I know many of you have, too. Let me try to explain for those of you who are new to this and may be even more confused than me about it all. And I apologize in advance for whatever I get wrong.

If someone in the LGBTQ+ community doesn’t consider themselves to be straight-up MALE or straight-up FEMALE (what is known now as cis-gender or cis-het-gender), and if they don’t want to be known or identified or limited by either of one those binary adjectives, such a person might prefer to be referred to as “THEY” or “THEM.”

Or, if someone has transitioned – or is in the process of transitioning – from one gender to another – they might prefer to go by “THEM,” instead of something so cut-and-dried as “He” and “Him” or “She” and “Her.” Or, if someone was born a male and transitions to become a female, they might prefer to be known as “THEY” and/or “HER or SHE.”

Like I said, it can get confusing and, I’ll confess, even frustrating, for someone who’s trying to get it right. For example, I know of a public figure who was born a male and transitioned to become a transgender female, with a new stereotypically female name, “MEGAN.” Megan prefers for their pronouns to be “THEY” and “HE” if they’re doing something by way of ZOOM, for example, or the more generic “THEY” and “THEM” if they’re being referred to in the press or the media. Again, this can be confusing and frustrating and I confess – and I mean CONFESS – I’ve thought some uncharitable thoughts about how high-maintenance this seems, how overly-sensitive, how needy, if not arrogant and maybe narcissistic this might be. But I’m trying to learn.

See, as someone who has never cared and never taken it personally when people have gotten my name wrong, I just didn’t understand. Which is the point. I just didn’t understand. And maybe you don’t either. See, as a straight, white, male, it has always been my prerogative to correct people if/when they pronounced my name incorrectly – or not. I could call them on it, if I wanted to – or not. I could give them the whole, “it’s like navel with an “H,” spiel, if I wanted to – or not. In my mind, they are wrong and it is my choice, my option, my prerogative – it is within my power – to let them know they are wrong, if I want to.

But for someone in the LGBTQ+ community, someone like Megan, perhaps, who likely grew up in the closet, on the margins, as an outsider to some, as a sinner to many, THEY were the ones who, their whole life, were “wrong”: in the wrong body… wearing the wrong clothes… attracted to the wrong kind of person… fundamentally WRONG by the estimation of, in the opinion of, according to the theology and judgement of most of the world around them – which would be a terrible way to try to live and move and be in the world – AND they were without the status, without the prerogative, without the power, to demand the simple, holy respect of being seen, identified, understood, and addressed in a way that honored who they are and how they feel about their very self.

And I’m confessing my frustration with this, and my lack of patience and understanding with this, because I realize that it’s lazy of me; and inconsiderate; and lacking in empathy and compassion to not take the time to simply learn – or want to learn – to address someone in a way they wish to be addressed.

And all of this strikes me as practical and holy and relevant to wonder about on what we call Holy Trinity Sunday, this strange day on our church calendar where we’re invited to wonder about and wrestle with God’s identity – and the names we use to call upon, to pray to, and maybe with which we introduce others to the God we worship.

As followers of Jesus, we start with what we learn from Jesus, in Scripture – Father, +Son, and Holy Spirit. That’s our Trinity. That’s our non-binary identity for the God of all creation, if you will. That’s the most common language most of us use to refer to the God made known to us in Jesus. And because Jesus was born a boy and died a man and prayed to God “the Father,” in his first-century, patriarchal, male-dominated culture, we do a lot of that, too. But I think that’s kind of lazy and lacking in faithful creativity and holy imagination.

Because let’s remember that Jesus also likened himself to a mother hen, who gathers her brood under her wings…

In Genesis, we’re told God created humankind “in the image of God” … “male and female he created them.”

And the word for the holy wisdom of God is the feminine name Sophia, which some use in reference to the Holy Spirit…

And remember that Jesus also talked about himself as a shepherd, as a gate, as the Way, the Truth, and the Life…

He’s also the Lamb of God, the Bread of Life, the Son of God, the Son of Man, the Son of David…

Jesus would also answer to Lord, Master, Rabbi, Rabbouni…

He was also understood to be Lord, Logos, the Word, Christ, Messiah…

Talk about high maintenance.

So, on this Holy Trinity Sunday, in the middle of PRIDE Month, in this congregation full of people who – just last week – shared how welcoming and affirming we want to be to ALL of God’s children … as I learn about more congregations in our community choosing deliberately NOT to welcome, love and care for people who are LGBTQ … let’s remember that this whole idea of naming God as Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, matters most if and when it points to the relationship shared among the persons of the Trinity. And that matters most, if you ask me, when it calls us and others into relationship with that same God, into relationship with each other, and into relationship with all of God’s children.

So let’s consider … that when we limit what we’re willing to name or how we’re willing to call upon God, that we also limit all the ways we might see and share the goodness of God’s love, too. We risk limiting what God can look like and how God can show up in our lives, for others, and for the sake of the world, as well.

And let’s stop doing that to each other, too. Let’s be patient with ourselves and one another… let’s listen to, let’s hear, and let’s take the time to really see our neighbors the way God does and the way they see themselves – “he,” “she,” “them,” “they,” whatever. And let’s see and celebrate everyone as created in God’s image with love, in love, for the sake of love at all costs, just as each of us is claimed and called and blessed to be: children of God, marked with the cross of Christ, forever.

Amen

“I Want to Be Part of a Church That…”

John 14:8-17

Philip said to [Jesus], “Lord, show us the Father and we will be satisfied.” Jesus said to him, “Have I been with you this long, Philip, and still you do not know me? Whoever has seen the me has seen the Father. How can you say, ‘Show us the Father’? Do you not believe that I am in the Father and the Father is in me? The words that I say I do not speak on my own, but the Father who dwells in me does his works. Believe me that I am in the Father and the Father is in me; but if you do not, then believe me because of the works themselves. Very truly, I tell you, the one who believes in me will also do the works that I do and, in fact, will do greater works than these, because I am going to the Father. I will do whatever you ask in my name, so that the Father may be glorified in the Son. If in my name you ask for anything, I will do it.

“If you love me, you will keep my commandments. And I will ask the Father and he will give you another Advocate, to be with you forever. This is the Spirit of truth, whom the world cannot receive, because it neither sees him nor knows him. You know him, because he abides with you, and he will be in you.”

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This whole “Pentecost” thing means a lot of stuff historically, symbolically, liturgically, theologically, of course, where life in the church is concerned. Some of it’s interesting. A lot of it, frankly, isn’t. To people who aren’t too familiar with all that we do as Christians in the world, it can seem like insider-language, which I’m never a fan of, so I feel like it bears explaining every once in a while.

One way to talk about Pentecost that’s kind of interesting, is to call it the birthday of the church. We celebrate it 50 days after Easter’s resurrection, to coincide with what gathered those first disciples in Jerusalem at the time of that reading from Acts we just heard – a Jewish holiday they called the Festival of Weeks, which marked the end of Passover for them. While they were gathered in Jerusalem, then, for this festival, some crazy stuff happened – there was a sound like the rush of wind; there were tongues of fire; they started speaking in languages they didn’t know they knew; people out on the streets thought they were drunk – which I do find kind of interesting, actually.

But, many talk about Pentecost as the birthday of the Church, because a new thing happened, which is interesting, too, if not ironic. For an institution that’s known too much of the time for our steadfast stubbornness, to have something like the crazy new things that happened at Pentecost be the hallmark of the Church’s birth and beginning is kind of funny; it’s noteworthy; it’s something we forget too much of the time; and it’s very much worth remembering.

So, in the spirit of Pentecost – and with every imaginable pun intended – in the spirit of Pentecost – I’ve asked for your help with today’s sermon. You all received those flames as you showed today with an open-ended statement on it (“I want to be part of a church that…”), and I thank you in advance for playing along – if you did. I kind of want to know, if you were giving birth to a Church … if you could pick, plan, and propose what you would like our church, your church, The Church to look like, what would you choose?

I want to be part of a church that keeps an open door and open hearts and open minds to all members of this world, no matter what race, color, orientation, or belief.

I want to be part of a church that welcomes all people … that opens doors for all … that makes everyone feel welcome.

I want to be part of a church that uses old hymns.

I want to be part of a church that keeps traditional services for the most part.

I want to be part of a church that cultivates spiritual growth and nurtures the world.

I want to be part of a church that loves.

I want to be part of a church that welcomes everybody – and means it.

I want to be part of a church that feeds the hungry.

I want to be part of a church that is multi-cultural and more colorful.

I want to be part of a church that gives.

I want to be part of a church that lights my fire.

For what it’s worth, this whole idea was inspired by several people who have reached out to me – in person and online – in just the last few weeks (old friends from high school, former Cross of Gracers, virtual strangers and acquaintances) to say they have been inspired by what they’ve been seeing and hearing about our ministry at Cross of Grace. Some – who have moved away from the area – told me they just haven’t been able to find a place like they miss here, at Cross of Grace. Others marvel at the wide welcome we try to extend to our LGBTQ friends, family, and neighbors. Others have simply been moved because all of that has challenged, in a beautiful way, what has otherwise disillusioned them about Christians and the Church. I want to be part of a church that does THAT every day of the week and two, or three, or four, or five times, on Sundays, as the saying goes.

And it reminded me that the Holy Spirit really is living and moving and breathing right here and right now – or it wants to be, anyway. What God is calling us to do here, in our little corner of the kingdom, is no less profound than the tongues of fire that appeared in that room so many generations ago when that handful of disciples – ordinary, plain, simple, men, women and children – gathered in the days after the resurrection wondering what in the world they were supposed to do now that the resurrection had happened and Jesus had left them to their work.

None of the things that so often steal our attention and our energy mattered so much, in that Pentecost moment … It didn’t matter what songs were sung or which liturgy was used. It didn’t matter what the building looked like or how the chairs were arranged. It didn’t matter – even – that others had told them they were crazy to believe any of this stuff in the first place.

What mattered is that the presence of God came into the room and they let it happen, they listened, and they lived differently because of it.

What mattered is they weren’t afraid to open their mouths and let words of grace and blessing and welcome come out – whether they even understood what in the world they were saying with every breath, or not.

What mattered is they didn’t keep any of this to themselves. They told others about the good news of God’s love for the world – and they let everyone in; from every nation; every ethnicity; every culture and color, every language and lifestyle, too, such as it was in their day.

What mattered is that God was doing something new and God’s people were there to let the Holy Spirit have its way with them.

So, let’s do more of that. When it comes to Pentecost and the Holy Spirit and what God is working to do with us, let’s let our own guards down more often and let’s let the Holy Spirit have its way with us.

Because when we let the Spirit move among us, we build buildings and pay off mortgages.

When the Spirit is living within us, we invite and welcome others to join us. We don’t sit behind closed doors and wait for tongues of fire to do all of our talking.

When the Spirit’s alive and well in our lives, we find courage to lead instead of always following our old, safe, comfortable, familiar ways.

When the Spirit inspires our thoughts and prayers, they become words and deeds that do justice and love kindness and work for peace and healing.

When we let the Spirit animate our life together, our hearts open, we hear the needs of others, and we risk sharing ourselves more completely because of it.

And when we let the Spirit of God truly have its way with our worship, learning and service, our friends and neighbors just might think we’re drunk because who would be that generous? Why would you be that kind? How could you be that forgiving? That welcoming? That full of grace?

This morning and in the Days of Pentecost that lie ahead – Days of the Spirit, on the other side of Easter – please pray with me and decide to see just what God will do with you if you let it happen; if we let the Spirit warm us inside and out; and if we let the fire of something new that God is doing burn differently within us.

I imagine we’ll find ourselves on holy ground, often. I imagine we’ll learn new ways to speak “love” and “grace” and “forgiveness” into and for the sake of this world that needs it. I bet we’ll find the Spirit of God in people and in places – in the midst of our fellowship and within ourselves, too – where we never have expected it could be. And I pray it will keep shaping this congregation – and God’s Church in the world – into the kind of place more of God’s children long to call home.

Amen