God Loves Queers: First Annual Ecumenical Pridefest Worship

Delivered at the First Annual Ecumenical Pridefest Worship,
held at Collegiate United Methodist Church
on September 30, 20182018.9.30 fierce

©The Rev. Eileen Gebbie

Sermons are written to be heard rather than read, particularly in this case. For a video version, go here.

BESOTTED
This will be less a sermon, and more a love letter.

Because God, my fellow queers, is besotted with love for us.

Be we genderqueer, God is besotted with love for us.

Be we androgynous, God is besotted with love for us.

Be we bigendered, God is besotted with love for us.

Be we two-spirit, God is besotted with love for us.

Be we trans, God is besotted with love for us.

Be we intersex, God is besotted with love for us.

Be we men who have sex with men, God is besotted with love for us.

Be we women who have sex with women, God is besotted with love for us.

Be we asexual, God is besotted with love for us.

Be we questioning, God is besotted with love for us.

Be we gay, God is besotted with love for us.

Be we bi, God is besotted with love for us.

Be we lesbians, God is besotted with love for us.

Leather daddies, God is besotted with love for us.

Old-school butches, God is besotted with love for us.

Faggots, God is besotted with love for us.

And boring middle-aged dykes like me, God is besotted with love for us.

God has loved us since we were first knit in our mother’s womb, just as we have been, just as we are today, and howsoever we shall become in our truth tomorrow, God is besotted with love for us.

And God needs us to use that love to heal our broken world.

HEAL
What? How can we heal the world? How are we who do not have full civil rights and who are every day being beaten and raped and killed for how we are born, especially if we are not white, how are we supposed to heal the world?

Because there is no group of children of God better positioned to bridge everything that divides. Not only positioned, but already there.

Because the thing about us queer people is that we are already Republican, Democrat, Green, Libertarian and Independent.

We are already rich, poor, working poor, and struggling middle class. We are already homeless, and housed.

We are already urban, suburban, and rural. We are already west coast, midwestern, and east coast.

We are already teachers, police, cooks, janitors, entrepreneurs, academics, engineers, designers, sales clerks, politicians, therapists, and nurses.

We are already atheist, agnostic, humanist, spiritual, animist, Jewish, Sikh, Buddhist, Jain, Muslim, Zoroastrian, Santeria, and Christian.

We are already neurotypical and on the spectrum. We are already able to walk and on crutches and in wheelchairs.

We are already African, Caribbean, First Nations, indigenous, Asian Pacific Islander, South Asian, Latinx, Hispanic, Chican@, mestizo, and white.

We are, as queers, already, and have always been, exactly where all of the wounds of the world happen. Wherever there is tenderness, wherever there is division, we are already there. And even though, in our minority, we may feel isolation and pain, in our diversity—in the unity of our diversity—there are no beloved children of God better suited to tend to those wounds, to close them up, and to heal this world.

Just look at where we are today.

CHRISTIANS
We are today in a Christian church participating in a Christian worship basically in celebration of us. If there is any institution or group of people who have done or continue to do us more harm than Christians and Christianity, I can’t think of it.

Yet in our insistence on our existence, our resistance of every effort to make us more palatable or less visible, we have managed to bring even Christians to the side of God’s love. We did that.

So, I’m going to extend an invitation to our straight, heteronormative, gender-normative friends and family of faith, who are here today. In a moment, I’m going to invite you to stand. I want to invite you to stand as a witness to your embrace of God’s rainbow people and all of the hard work of reconciliation and liberation that rainbow demands.

Members of Ames United Church of Christ, please stand.

Members of Unity Church of Ames, please stand.

Members of First Christian Church, please stand.

Members of First Baptist Church, please stand.

Members of this generous host congregation, Collegiate United Methodist Church and Wesley Foundation, would you please stand?

And anyone else, religious or not, who is willing to put your straight lives on the line for our queer ones, please stand up. Thank you. We are going to hold you accountable to this.

MY PEOPLE
I want to bring this love letter to a conclusion by saying again to my people that no matter what you have been told for your 10, your 30, or your 75 years or more of life, in this moment you have seen, and I hope you have felt, that God’s love is coursing within and through us to the world.

Let us never doubt our beauty.

Let us never doubt the gift of our presence.

Let us never doubt our right to be alive.

Standing here today as we stand always in the power of the eternal divine, let us know in our bodies—however they are today and however they may be tomorrow—that we are fiercely and wonderfully made.

Happy Pride, everyone!

AMEN.

Amos 1.1–2; 5.14–15, 21–24: River’s Source


2017.11.12 rivers
Delivered at Ames UCC
on November 12, 2017

©The Rev. Eileen Gebbie

Sermons are written to be heard, rather than read. Please join us at 10:30 a.m. on Sundays.

JUSTICE
Amos, like all good prophets, does not mince words. Moved by the will and vision of God, he states clearly that the trappings of religion are traps. Religious practices that remain in the sanctuary, that do not translate into faithful lives in our streets, are a trap. We must break out of the traps we set in the name of God in order to free ourselves and each other in response to the will of God. We must let justice roll down like waters, and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream.

For many of my colleagues, this is the one day a year where they can “safely” preach about justice. By which Amos, and all of the prophets, means a balancing of the scales between the haves and have-nots in the world that we live in right now. This is, obviously, not a worry for me. We are a congregation that readily acknowledges the imbalances of the world and gives generously of our time, talent, and treasure to even them out. So what more is there to say? Should I just invite us to do high fives and move on to the next hymn? We could be to the coffee and cookies in 15 minutes!

OUR STREAMS
As I prayed this scripture, and about our church—as I considered our consistent willingness to jump into justice and righteousness—I found myself wondering about the stream’s source and its structure.

Because water takes a toll. Whether it is sitting or trickling or raging, water changes everything it touches. Water grows plants but water also rots wood. Flood water can ruin a home but clean water can revive it.

And God would have justice roll like water and righteousness like an ever-flowing stream. Justice and righteousness, those are rivers that come with a lot of debris, sudden rapids, and toxic spills, as well as seemingly eternal doldrums, unmoving.

If we are to create the conditions so that justice and righteousness are as strong as the Niagra and as wide as the Mississippi, then we had better make sure the riverbeds are deep and the banks strong. We had better keep our eyes as much on the source of justice and righteousness as those destinations, or we may find ourselves overwhelmed by waves or so tired of rowing our oars that we jump ship for dry land, just like Amos’ original audience.

So today I want to look at the waters of creation and those of baptism.

CREATION
The Bible is not, of course, a biological textbook. It is a metaphysical one, it is a theological assertion about the nature of life. And it asserts that life began in the moment holiness invited deep water to do a new thing. And it asserts that it is good.

Over and over again in Genesis as the divine brings forth from water and not-yet-substance the elements of life that are familiar to us, and those that are strange, God says, “It is good.” Creation is good and God has faith that we have the capacity to tend to that goodness.

We fail, of course, out of our hubris, but we do not destroy the goodness. Every river, including those of justice and righteousness, continues to flow out from Eden, keeping us connected to our source, to the goodness we need and the goodness to which we can return.

Which is what Jesus then invites us to do, when he steps into water to make a new thing.
Continue reading

Take a Sabbath from Hate: Genesis 1.1–2.4a

Delivered at Ames UCC on September 10, 2017

©The Rev. Eileen Gebbie

Sermons are written to be heard rather than read.
Please join us Sundays at 10:30 a.m.
All are welcome.

GENESIS
In the beginning there was substance, the deep, the tehom. God blew on the tehom, just as God would across every living thing, to invite a cooperative life.

First, there was day and night. And it was good. Then sky, and it was good. Next land and plants. Ever so good. Stars, sun, and moon were given their places and schedules. And it was good. Swarms of fish and sharks, pterodactyls and sparrows began their generations. They were all good. Cattle and worms took up their places above and below ground. And it was good.

Lastly God made a human creature. Then God divided that human creature into different shapes, a sacred variety all reflecting God. God told humanity to take good care of this holy creation. And it was very good.

Genesis is not, of course, a scientific account of creation. It does not presume to contradict or supplant the big bang theory or astrophysics in general. We preserve it as a theological account of the planet and our place on it. Genesis 1 is a story to remind us that everything God touches is good. Everything God wills is good. Everything of God, is God, and is good.

It also clearly argues that though we are not number one on God’s list, our place at number six comes with responsibility for all who came before us.

MARY AND JULIAN
I’ve been doing a lot of study the last couple of weeks, about some of those who came before us, our faith ancestors. I’m preparing for our Wednesday morning and evening study of gospels that did not make it into the Bible, like that of Mary Magdalene. I’m also looking ahead to our Lenten study of Julian of Norwich, a 14th century mystic, who was the first woman to compose a book in English.1

In the beginning of the fragment of Mary’s gospel that remains, she quotes Jesus as saying, “Every nature…every creature, exists in and with each other.”2 She goes on to share further revelations from Christ resurrected that oppose church and gender hierarchies. All that matters is the soul that transcends the body and resisting any assertions of power over people. I think we know why she didn’t survive the Biblical vetting process.

For Julian, her thirty years of meditation on visions of God in Christ made strong her belief that God is in us and we are in God and there can be no evil or pain or judgment from God to us. Her most famous theological statement is “All will be well and all will be well and every kind of thing shall be well.” Julian isn’t saying that life will be easy—how could she after witnessing two rounds of the plague—but that suffering is never God’s will.

Both of these women are reiterating, in their own way, that same sense of God’s goodness from Genesis 1. Even a thousand years apart, even with an empire and a church working to silence them, the goodness of God found voice.

So what keeps going wrong?
Continue reading

God is Everywhere: The Book of Jonah

jonahlovejusticeDelivered at Ames UCC
on November 13, 2016
©The Rev. Eileen Gebbie

Sermons are written to be
heard rather than read.

Please join us for worship
at 10:30 a.m. on Sundays.

ASSUMPTIONS AND FEAR
I don’t generally like to assume how people are feeling or what they are thinking. It isn’t fair and it can be dangerous. Plus, my personality and my training tell me to do otherwise. I like to assume the best about people and so I want to understand who they are and why they are and how they got there.

I doesn’t mean I respect where everyone ends up. I have no patience or respect for those who publicly pronounce their hatred of others, for those who organize whole institutions around the destruction of those who are not Christian, or of people of color, women, or queer.

Neither does Ames UCC. This is a church that has always stood on the side of people who have been hated for those reasons. We do not all do so from the same political party, but we agree nonetheless.

So I will take the risk in assuming that if you are here today, if you have chosen to a come to a place like this, you have experienced some kind of grief, if not actual fear, since Tuesday night.

Fear of the voters who chanted “Jew S. A.! Jew S. A.!,” fear of the voters who laughed at or dismissed a man who treats women’s bodies as objects for his own pleasure, fear of the voters whose children approached other Black kids in Ames to ask if they knew they would be slaves again soon, fear of the voters in Boone who keyed “die fag #trump” into the cars of two women, fear that those voters’ voices will not only grow stronger and more emboldened, but also translate into law that will reduce protection and rights.

In other words, even though I know we are not homogenous in our formal party affiliations at Ames UCC, I know that we are united in our condemnation of such behavior.
Continue reading

Loving Job: Job 1.1–22

releasegodDelivered at First Christian Church
on July 3, 2016
©The Rev. Eileen Gebbie

Sermons are written to be heard rather than read. Please join us for worship at 10:30 a.m. on Sundays (except in July, when we worship with First Christian Church at 9:30 a.m., alternating between FCC and Ames UCC).

LOVE–HATE
Show of hands: Who loves the story of Job? Who really dislikes it? I was wary of it for a long time because it sounded so mean: God letting someone lose their whole family to prove a point. It seemed to reinforce notions of God wanting suffering and suffering somehow being redemptive—what I consider the worst of our tradition’s contribution to understanding the holy.

And I think I felt like having faith in God would require me to accept that ugliness, that somehow becoming a Christian meant accepting and professing a characterization of God that I found grotesque.

Now Job is one of my favorites. Job gives us glimpses into other times and cultures; it reminds us that our religion is a hybrid. Job asks the fundamental questions of this life, without the Christian distraction of afterlife.

And, as I hope you will see, in the end the story of Job offers a portrait of God that denies all of our efforts to humanize the divine. In Job, holiness is at a scale that truly inspires awe and justifies our faith, hope, and love.

God in Job is not grotesque, but glorious.

So, as our Bible itself does, let’s begin at the beginning, with the context and main characters.
Continue reading