Collective Ripples of Resistance: Radical Healing after Violence

Sunday, October 12, 2025

José Rosario (he/him)

Founder, The Phoenix Empowered

Queer Christian

 The Pulse Nightclub shooting was the deadliest act of violence against the LGBTQ+ community at the time, underscoring that, despite progress, Queer individuals still face threats to our bodies and minds. It is crucial to recognize that the shooting occurred during Latin night meaning many attendees were Black and brown Queer people. As a Queer Puerto Rican man, I felt this deeply. I witnessed myself and others express grief and fear as we processed the attack on our community.

These acts of violence did not stop, and I continued to support clients who shared the same fear and pain upon seeing reports of victims who mirrored their identities. This experience motivated me to pursue graduate school to broaden our understanding of trauma and explore the impact of hate on both individual and collective levels for those who share minoritized identities with the victims. I am particularly committed to understanding the intersectional experiences of individuals with multiple minoritized identities who navigate violence across various systems. These experiences often involve straddling identities that are frequently overlooked,

emphasizing the need to recognize how these intersecting identities shape the ways people encounter and respond to violence.

I realized that violence creates ripples, leaving deep marks on our collective history. Yet, as my advisor reminded me, we also carry histories of resistance.

Let us consider the Taíno women who strapped babies on their backs to fight for their land, or how Marsha P. Johnson bravely led the fight for Queer justice, or how the Americans with Disabilities Act resulted from individuals with disabilities crawling up the steps of the Capitol and demanding change. These stories shape me as a gay Latino man who uses a wheelchair. In the Christian tradition, we often forget that Jesus challenged oppression, whether by flipping tables to denounce capitalism or centering the lived experiences of minoritized people. Activism and affirmation are central to change.

One key lesson I have learned in cultural and collective trauma work is that people do not heal in isolation. We come together, seeking spaces to collectively grieve, feel distraught, and continue to find hope. Healing has existed long before therapists emerged; various cultural practices have long served communities. As a therapist, it is my duty to support clients in finding spaces to heal, just as I strive to create a space for healing. We were never meant to heal alone.

The Psychology of Radical Healing framework offers five considerations for encouraging healing: (1) acknowledge

systems of oppression and the harm they cause within individuals and communities, (2) make space for individuals to live in their full personhood and recognize the many facets of themselves, (3) remember the collective strength of our communities as we resist injustice over time, (4) lean into your community; we are in this fight together, and (5) envision a world where change is possible, collectively supporting one another in hoping for a better future. In summary, we must create sacred spaces of resistance and storytelling to foster faith.

Violence is a reality of our world, and oppression is ingrained in the lived experiences of so many of us. This is your call to speak your truth and find a beloved community that affirms all parts of you. You deserve this space. Together, we can resist, and together we will hope. We can flip tables and traverse this road together. There is power and love in this collective breath.

Reflection

How can you contribute to creating spaces of healing and resistance in your own community?

What stories of resilience inspire you to act?

How can we collectively envision a future that embraces all identities?

Bishops

Monday, October 6, 2025

Happy Monday, my friends! Growing up Roman Catholic, visits from the diocesan[1] bishop were special occasions filled with liturgical pomp, theological importance, and practical opportunities. Bishops were held to be the successors of the Apostles and therefore accorded significant respect. In congregations where the pastor held significant, sometimes unchecked authority, the bishop was also a next level power and, practically speaking, the pastor’s supervisor and boss. The airing of grievances against the pastor was commonplace. In days gone by, the bishop might conduct a “pontifical high mass,” a service that outside the local see was rare enough that Catholics might only experience a handful in their lifetimes. Depending on the bishop and the size of the diocese, several staff members might accompany the bishop on his[2] visit.

My journey through Christian denominations has taken me through traditions with strong episcopal[3] structures and those without bishops at all. Most Anglican (Episcopal), Lutheran, and Methodist traditions have bishops whose responsibilities and positions mirror those of Roman Catholic bishops. In the broad Reformed Tradition (Presbyterian, UCC, etc.), bishops are rare. In Pentecostal traditions, the office of bishop is typically reserved for senior clergy who may or may not have a part of the governing structure but typically derive their authority and influence from their own records of service, advocacy, and preaching. The Fellowship of Affirming Ministries (TFAM) has a House of Bishops who identify, name, and consecrate new bishops, but who are limited in their actual authority over the ministries, clergy, and people affiliated with TFAM.

Columbus falls within TFAM’s Midwest Region, and our regional bishop is the Rt. Rev. Tim Wolfe. For the last few months, I’ve been coordinating Bishop Tim’s visit to Central Ohio on the invitation of both LOVEboldly and Blue Ocean Faith Columbus (BOFC). Accustomed as I am to Roman Catholic and Anglican bishops who stereotypically have long lists of wants and needs, Bishop Tim’s laid-back style makes this visit relatively stress free. Yet, I want him to enjoy his time with us and I want to grow TFAM’s presence in Central Ohio and Ohio more broadly. Plus, as many of you know, I’m a ball of nervous energy when it comes to coordinating events. While Bishop is here he will have time for coffee one-on-one with me, headline “Brunch with a (Queer) Bishop” with LOVEboldly, meet with the LOVEboldly board, attend an informal dinner with TFAM-affiliates in Central Ohio, meet with the BOFC board, and preach at BOFC’s Sunday service. He will also be traveling with an episcopal assistant and an armor bearer. Thank you to the folks who educated me about the latter position which is a master of ceremonies, communications coordinator, and personal assistant rolled into one position with an epic title.

I have to admit that I struggle with bishops. Yes, I prefer the Pentecostal understanding of bishops as senior clergy recognized for not only their gifts and leadership, but also for their service and commitment to their tradition and the people they’ve been called to serve. I consider Bishop Tim to be a mentor and friend. I’ve had the privilege of knowing and learning from bishops in other traditions as well including the Most Rev. Dr. Daniel Conlon (Roman Catholic) who was one of the bishops of the Diocese of Steubenville while I was growing up; the Rt. Rev. Gene Robinson (Episcopal) who was influential in my journey to reconcile my sexuality and my Christianity; the Rt. Rev. Duncan Gray, Jr. (Episcopal) who received me into The Episcopal Church and would often check-in on me whenever he saw me on campus at Sewanee; the Rt. Rev. Dr. Neil Alexander (Episcopal) who served at Sewanee; the Most Rev. Michael Curry (Episcopal) who I met during an internship and became Facebook friends with later; the Rt. Rev. Dr. Scott Benhase (Episcopal) who I served with at St. Alban’s Episcopal Church before he was elected Bishop of Georgia; and now, along with Bishop Tim, the Rt. Revs. Alex Byrd, William Barber, II, Vanessa Brown, and the rest of our amazing TFAM bishops. However, I’m also deeply convinced by and committed to the primacy of the local church. One of the key features of religion and Christianity is doing life together in a local setting. Dioceses, districts, conferences, and other regional, national, and international groups are good for bringing people together, but they often foster the error that what is right for one congregation or group is or even could be right for other congregations and groups. Though attractive from the perspective of Christian unity, that mindset unfortunately leads to marginalization more readily than it leads to any benefit. Bishops in denominations and traditions with strong episcopal polities often become the arbiters of congregational ministry and destinies even if they lack thorough understandings of what makes individual congregations unique.

Regardless of your theological understanding of bishops, they provide tangible links to our past and inspiration for our futures. The best bishops support clergy and communities in leading and ministering in their own contexts. Recently, I sent a lengthy email to Bishop Tim outlining my reflections on TFAM’s Holy Convocation in July, my hopes for my current ministries, and my goals for the future. His response included the reminder that I was expressing sentiments shared by clergy the world over and through time. He said that not to dismiss my thoughts, but to reinforce that this was a natural part of my calling as a pastor and leader. That sort of insight born from experience is precisely the kind of episcopal leadership the church needs today.

How have you been impacted by bishops and other senior clergy in your tradition? What is your theology concerning bishops?

Let us pray: God, your church has designated bishops with different levels of authority and responsibility, yet they form a significant part of Christian history and tradition. Bless our bishops, whatever their place or position. Grant them the wisdom and grace to respond to your call in and on their lives and ministry. Raise up, we humbly pray, good people to serve as bishops, ever mindful that by serving your people, they serve you. We ask this in the name of your son, our redeemer and liberator, Jesus. Amen.

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

Faithfully,

Ben +

PS. It’s not too late to RSVP for “Brunch with a (Queer) Bishop” on Saturday, October 11, at 11am at Black Sheep Kitchen. Seats are limited so email me today (bhuelskamp@loveboldly.net)!

[1] A “diocese” is the administrative district that is overseen by a bishop. In the United States there are typically at least two dioceses in every state with the older or “more important” diocese being designated an archdiocese. Each (arch)diocese is named after the see, the city in which the bishop either resides or from which they work. In Ohio there are six Roman Catholic dioceses: the Archdiocese of Cincinnati, the Diocese of Toledo, the Diocese of Columbus, the Diocese of Cleveland, the Diocese of Youngstown, and the Diocese of Steubenville. True of almost any ecclesiastical structure, there are exceptions and quirks. For instance, the Diocese of Charleston covers the entire State of South Carolina, the Archdiocese of Washington (DC) includes several counties in Maryland, Virginia has no archdiocese, and New York City is in two dioceses (the Archdiocese of New York covering Manhattan, Staten Island, the Bronx, and several other counties, and the Diocese of Brooklyn covering Brooklyn and Queens.

[2] Recall that all Roman Catholic clerics are male.

[3] “Episcopal” refers to polities which include bishops. The Episcopal Church, for example, is so named because they have maintained a polity in which bishops are significant figures. That said, an episcopal polity is not limited to churches which have “episcopal” in their names.

Labels Denied, Labels Embraced

Sunday, October 5, 2025

Alejandro Rodríguez (he/him)

Executive Director, The Spirituality Network

Queer Christ-follower

He said to them, “But who do you say that I am? (Matthew 16:15).

Jesus challenges his disciples to take a stand. Simon Peter doesn’t disappoint. “You are the Christ, the Son of the living God.”

Who we are is a question for the ages. Perhaps a lifelong quest.

It took me a long time to claim who I was.

My parents so wanted to assimilate to our new homeland that I lost my past. Because my name was difficult for teachers and fellow students, I insisted they call me “Alex” instead.

I didn’t really have a deep desire to embrace my heritage until I visited New Orleans with my parents. The Garden District reminded them of Havana, my birthplace.

That started a journey to embrace the label, “Latino.” In 2003, I was able to go back to Cuba with my parents, a gift I still treasure.

It was around this time that I was coming to embrace being a gay man. That, too, was a label long denied. It was challenging because I was married to a woman and had three kids. I’m still in a mixed orientation marriage. It’s where I feel I belong.

So much of my life is a paradox in which labels are hard to apply.

It’s trendy to disavow labels. It puts artificial boundaries around who we are. They are too limiting to fully define a person.

But as someone who for so long denied the key aspects of who I am, I proudly wear the labels of “gay” and “Latino.”

Reflection

Who do you say you are?

What pivotal points in your journey have led you to this place?

How do you take on the label, “child of God?”

Action

As we approach National Coming Out Day on October 11 and the end of Hispanic Heritage Month on October 15, I invite you to join me in celebrating all of who you are and whatever labels you choose to wear or not wear.