No Hierarchy in the Kin-dom

Sunday, July 6, 2025

Gwendolyn Glover DeRosa (she/her)

Director of Student Ministries, King Avenue UMC (Columbus, OH)

Queer Christian

Then people brought little children to Jesus for him to place his hands on them and pray for them. But the disciples rebuked them. Jesus said, “Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these.” When he had placed his hands on them, he went on from there.

(Matthew 19:13-15 NIV)

What are some of your hobbies? The kinds of things you do just for fun, just for yourself? As someone who works in ministry and whose free time is spent in LGBTQIA+ advocacy, I was neglecting my self-care and mental health for years. So, I made a really specific goal to do something just for myself and so I joined a group of non- church, non-ministry friends for a Dungeons and Dragons (DnD) campaign last year. If you don’t know what DnD is, you are not alone. I always thought I  would not like DnD because I am not a game person.

Even though I’m a big nerd, it’s actually difficult for me to understand the complicated rules of games and I’m just not competitive at all.

I didn’t realize that DnD is a group storytelling game. And I love stories! I identify most of all as a storyteller.

In a DnD campaign, all of the players are on a quest together. No one player is better or more important than the other players. Everyone is equal in the game.

Everyone is needed. Everyone matters.

One of the first campaigns I played in was a story about King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table. I played a Queer female knight named Sir Brigid. I was so excited to play this game because I’ve always loved the legends of King Arthur and the Round Table.

Do you know why the table was round?

It’s because there was no hierarchy in Camelot. Everyone had an equal and valued place at the table.

This was the kind of kingdom (or kin-dom) that Jesus talked about to everyone. But when people heard about this kingdom, they were confused. Everything about this kingdom was turned inside out and upside down. The last shall be first, and the first shall be last? What did that really mean? Who was in charge? Who was prioritized? What held the power in this kind of kingdom?

People seem to quite naturally make hierarchies in society. They categorize people and put

them kind of on a ladder, where the most powerful are at the top and the least powerful are at the bottom. They say that rich people are more important than poor people. They say that adults are more important than children. They say that being faster, smarter, popular…whatever…makes a person matter more in society.

But God’s kin-dom is the opposite. The most vulnerable folks are kept safe. The quiet voices are listened to. The poor are prioritized. The gentle and humble, the small, the slow, these are the ones that lead us when we are living into the kin-dom of God.

Let’s pray: Hi, God! Thank you for the gift of storytelling. Stories, like the ones that Jesus told, show us what it’s like to be part of your kin-dom. Help us to dismantle systems of hierarchy in our daily lives. And may we make space for the marginalized in our lives every day, for that is where you will be found. Amen.

Reflection

I wonder what this kind of kin-dom might look like to you.

I wonder how we might prioritize the people society puts at the bottom of the ladder.

I wonder how we can make space for those voices today.

Action:

Learn about, get involved with, and support community care organizations locally. Here

are a few in Central Ohio that I recommend:

•       Heer to Serve https://heer2serve.org

•       Star House https://www.starhouse.us

•       Stonewall Columbus https://stonewallcolumbus.org

•       TransOhio https://www.transohio.org

Nervous for Someone Else's Courage

Monday, June 30, 2025

Happy Monday and Happy Pride, my friends! Today is the last day of Pride Month and at approximately 12am (midnight) tomorrow many of the companies which did support Pride will quietly change their logos and ads back to their regular colors and displays. Yet, the LGBTQIA+ community will continue living our truths even as we face an onslaught of hate and laws targeted against us and our flourishing.

On June 20 and 21, the Old State Saloon and its owner, Mark Fitzpatrick, held the so called “Heterosexual Awesomeness Festival” (also known as and reported by some as the “Hetero Awesome Fest”) across the street from the state capitol in Boise, ID. The event, which drew approximately 50 people and tons of negative publicity, began with claims that LGBTQIA+ people prey on children and ended with Fitzpatrick fighting a singer and at least one person rejoicing that Boise had so few Black residents. Promoted using the standard troupe of queerphobic ideas—including that Pride Month excludes heterosexual people—the event was a mix of white Christian nationalism, white supremacy, and heteronormative idealism. But in all that hate, one singer, Daniel Hamrick, took to the stage, identifying himself as a US Army Ranger, and playing his original song “Boy” about a Transgender boy who is forced into “feminine” activities when he really wants to be rough and tumble with the other boys. Hamrick’s song was cut short when he was physically assaulted by Fitzpatrick and removed from the stage.

I knew that “Heterosexual Awesomeness Festival” was a flop, but I didn’t know about Hamrick’s song or the ensuing fight until a friend sent me the video. As I watched Hamrick introduce himself, put on his Ranger beret to cheers from the crowd, and begin to sing, I got very nervous. I knew that someone had attacked Hamrick and I was nervous for him, even though I wasn’t there and the event was over by the time I watched his performance.

Something about speaking truth in that way and in that space made me panic. Perhaps it was my Midwestern politeness which forces me to not make a scene—that would be mean even to these horrid people—or perhaps it was my aversion to pain knowing that the type of people who would organize something called the “Heterosexual Awesomeness Festival” would not resolve their differences with their words. Whatever it was, I had to turn off the video more than once and finally had to come back to it later to avoid having a panic attack myself.

I’d like to think that in the moment I could muster the courage to speak truth to power and privilege whether like Hamrick’s song or something closer to my own life like Bishop Mariann Budde’s sermon calling President Trump to compassion for immigrants and LGBTQIA+ youth. But then I catch myself questioning if I should wear a “Trans Rights are Human Rights” shirt in certain public places or my “Queer Pastor” shirt when I know I’ll be around nonaffirming clergy. My allyship and activism should not have such basic limits no matter whether I decide to wear the shirt, preach the sermon, or disrupt the event.

Where do you find yourself questioning your allyship or activism? When have you wondered if you could be a better ally or activist?

Let us pray: God, you empower us to speak out against injustice, to hold our leaders accountable, to document the false promises of empire, and to announce liberty to all those held in the bounds of marginalization and oppression. Yet, sometimes we question ourselves and our commitment to the work of allyship and activism. Grant us grace, God, and help us find grace from our friends and colleagues when we struggle to see the impact in the work we do. Cast away the shadow of imposter syndrome and help us rest restoratively and as an act of resistance. We ask this through Jesus, our liberator. Amen.

Blessings on your weeks, my friends! Please let me know if there is anything I can do for you.

Faithfully,

Ben +

Note - It is the practice of many Anglican/Episcopal and some other clergy to include a cross (“+”) before or after their names to indicate a blessing. Traditionally, bishops place the cross before their names and priests place the cross after their names. Though I like the tradition, I associate it with Anglicanism and did not adopt it when I was ordained. However, I’ve learned that some TFAM clergy use the cross in this way and have begun using it when I sign emails and letters.

Shabbat: Living in the World We Want to Build

Sunday, June 29, 2025

Dr. Lis Regula (he/him)

Lecturer in Biology, University of Dayton

Queer Jew

“Remember the Sabbath day and keep it holy.” (Exodus 20:8)

As a Jewish trans man living in Ohio in 2025, I can find plenty to critique in the world today. Part of that is my ability to critique nearly anything—not necessarily to complain but to find ways to do better—and part of that is simply the state of our state right now for people like me. While I’ll be the first to admit that I’m not always comfortable with the regularity with which I hold mixed emotions, one of the things that attracts me to Judaism is the plurality that is embraced in our teachings. Life is complex, and I want to be with people who don’t shy away from complexity!

For example, some Jews view Shabbat as a cessation of labor and an act of creation. Each week, we step into a sacred pause, reflecting on the world we aspire to inhabit—a world of equality, dignity, and holiness. For transgender individuals and others who experience the world’s fractured realities, Shabbat becomes a radical act of affirmation, a glimpse of the harmony we are called to co-create with Hashem.

In the opening verses of Bereishit (Genesis), the Torah recounts the creation of the universe. On the seventh day, Hashem rested, blessing the day and making it holy. This divine rest was not a withdrawal from creation but an intentional act that allowed the fullness of creation to flourish. It was a day of completion and delight, a foretaste of the perfect world where every being exists fully as themselves, beloved and whole.

When we observe Shabbat, we mimic this divine rhythm. We are reminded that we, too, are co-creators with Hashem. During the week, we engage in melachot— constructive labor to shape the physical and societal world. On Shabbat, we step back to experience what we have built, envision the world we long for, and align our actions with that vision.

For transgender individuals, whose journeys often involve profound acts of self-creation and truth-telling, Shabbat offers a respite from the pressures of a world that may not yet fully reflect their inherent dignity. It is time to affirm the divine image within and rest in the knowledge that they are as Hashem intended—fearfully and wonderfully made (Psalm 139:14).

The Talmud teaches that humans are partners with Hashem in creation (Shabbat 10a). We are not passive recipients of the world as it is; we are called to repair and transform it. This partnership is at the heart of my understanding of Shabbat. By refraining from labor, we acknowledge that the world’s ultimate repair depends not on our ceaseless activity but on our alignment with divine purpose.

For transgender people, this co-creative role resonates deeply. Many must navigate systems and norms that seek to define them, choosing instead to affirm the truth of who they are. This act of self-creation mirrors the divine act of bringing forth light from darkness and form from chaos. In living authentically, transgender individuals embody the Torah’s call to be holy, for Hashem is holy (Leviticus 19:2).

The rabbis of the Talmud describe Shabbat as me’ein olam haba, a taste of the world to come. On Shabbat, we live as if the world has already been redeemed. We set aside divisions of labor and hierarchy, gathering at the table as equals. We pause our striving, affirming that our worth is not tied to productivity but to our inherent sanctity as creations of Hashem.

For transgender individuals, this vision of redemption offers profound hope. In a world where identity is often contested, Shabbat declares that every person is welcome at the divine table. It is a space where the fullness of one’s identity can be celebrated, not questioned. Lest we forget, the Talmud includes eight genders, and that leaves plenty of room for trans people to find themselves in Judaism.

The kiddush prayer recited on Friday evening declares Shabbat a “reminder of the act of creation” (zecher l’ma’aseh bereishit) and a “reminder of the exodus from Egypt” (zecher l’yitziyat mitzrayim). These dual themes— creation and liberation—invite us to reflect on the world we are building. Are we creating systems that liberate or ones that oppress? Are we affirming the divine image in every person or perpetuating exclusion?

In the Talmud, Rabbi Yochanan teaches that the generation of the Messiah will be marked by transformation (Sanhedrin 98a). This transformation includes breaking down barriers and expanding our understanding of holiness. Transgender individuals, through their courage and authenticity, challenge the world to expand its definitions of identity and sanctity.

The journey of self-creation that many transgender people undertake is deeply aligned with the Jewish concept of tikkun olam, repairing the world. By living authentically, transgender individuals model what it means to co-create a world of justice and compassion.

One of the reasons I chose my synagogue in Columbus is that our tradition emphasizes Shabbat's inclusivity. All are welcome at the Shabbat table, and strangers and the marginalized are honored. This inclusivity reflects the divine vision of a world where every being has a place.

For transgender individuals and others who have been marginalized, Shabbat is a reminder that their presence is not only welcomed but essential. Just as each thread is necessary to complete a tapestry, each person’s unique identity contributes to the beauty of creation.

As the sun sets on Friday evening, we light the Shabbat candles, inviting peace and holiness into our homes.

These flames remind us that even in a world of brokenness, we carry the divine spark of creation within us.

For transgender individuals, Shabbat is an invitation to rest in their divinely created identity, dream of a world that affirms their dignity, and gather strength for the work of repair. Shabbat calls us to imagine and embody the world we want to build—a world of justice, compassion, and holiness.

May we enter this sacred time with hearts open to the divine vision of redemption, knowing that as co-creators with Hashem, we are part of bringing it to fruition.

Shabbat Shalom.

Reflection

How am I acting alongside Hashem to create a world that more fully represents all that I want it to be?

How am I taking time to appreciate the work that Hashem and I have done together?

Action

If you would like to join other folks helping to create an Ohio more in-line with our shared values of dignity, freedom, and equity, check out Ohio Equal Rights  (www.ohioequalrights.org) and their expansive amendment to the Ohio constitution.