Forty-nine candles flickered in front of our altar at the Catholic Church of the Beatitudes. It was a warm afternoon; the smell of smoke and the veil of ashes from the Sherpa Fire seemed to envelope us.
Christine Fahrenbach, our visiting presider, read from Luke’s gospel, in which Jesus ask the disciples, “who do the crowds say that I am?”
“John the Baptizer,” they replied, “and some say Elijah, while others claim that one of the prophets of old has returned from the dead.”
Obviously they didn’t know him.
I began thinking of the forty-nine men and women killed in Orlando June 12, primarily LGBTQ people of color, many Latinx.
I wondered if for most of their lives they struggled with the question, “who do people say that I am?”
Did they wrestle with how others perceived them? How free were they to express themselves and their sexual/gender identity? How free were they to have a relationship with a person who fulfilled them?
I am left pondering, what do the shootings at the Pulse nightclub say about our society at large?
First, I think it’s true that most of us have difficulty accepting people when they don’t fit into our mold, understanding or image we have of them.
Secondly, it seems that demonizing and scapegoating others is a growing national pastime. It certainly has been in our political system during the current political campaigns; in our schools, where young people have to deal with bullying; and on Twitter, where anonymity allows harsh, hurtful and slanderous words to devastate people.
Recently at a PFLAG (formerly Parents, Family and Friends for Lesbians and Gays, which includes all the LGBTQ issues) gathering, a woman spoke about feeling tossed between her assigned gender at birth and who her family and friends tell her she is, and then trying to deal with what her body, heart and mind tell her she truly is.
I have a grandson who is gay and performs drag. My heart was touched by his plea for compassion after the Orlando massacre. He wrote:
I have two requests. For anyone of my friends who has kids, wants kids, or is about to have kids, please sit down with your significant other (if you have one) and have a conversation about what it would be like to have a queer child. And don’t just talk how you would be okay with it. Please talk about how you would actively support them and their family to thrive in a world that is honestly very scary to live in as a queer person. Please have this conversation. Please.
Second, please, if you still use any words to denigrate someone’s sexuality or gender identity, stop. Please don’t think saying fag or faggot is funny. Please don’t think saying dyke is okay. Please don’t think saying tranny or hermaphrodite or any other myriad words to mock a person’s gender identity is acceptable. Each moment that these words come out of someone’s mouth builds up a culture that removes our identities as people. And if we are not people, it makes it infinitely easier for someone to walk into a room, open fire and take us away. Please don’t let that happen, and please share these requests with your friends.
I am so thankful my grandson was brave enough — and trusting enough — to stand up with all his pleases/pleas that shed a bit more light on how we, in our society, can be more thoughtful, curious and educated in taking steps towards safety, acceptance, support and unity with our LGBTQ community.
Being allies means more that talking about what happened in Orlando, it is a call to action. Please take a bit of time and reflect on what your response might be.
— Harriet Burke is a member of the Catholic Church of the Beatitudes, which celebrates Mass at 4:30 p.m. Saturdays at First Congregational Church of Santa Barbara, 2101 State St. Click here for more information, or call 805.252.4105. Click here for previous columns.