Trans Day of Remembrance Sermon
Preached at St Nicholas’ Church, Leicester on Sunday 21st of November 2021, for the memorial service marking Transgender Day of Remembrance.
Readings
Isaiah 43:1-7
But now thus says the Lord,
he who created you, O Jacob,
he who formed you, O Israel:
Do not fear, for I have redeemed you;
I have called you by name, you are mine.
When you pass through the waters, I will be with you;
and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you;
when you walk through fire you shall not be burned,
and the flame shall not consume you.
For I am the Lord your God,
the Holy One of Israel, your Saviour.
I give Egypt as your ransom,
Ethiopia and Seba in exchange for you.
Because you are precious in my sight,
and honoured, and I love you,
I give people in return for you,
nations in exchange for your life.
Do not fear, for I am with you;
I will bring your offspring from the east,
and from the west I will gather you;
I will say to the north, ‘Give them up’,
and to the south, ‘Do not withhold;
bring my sons from far away
and my daughters from the end of the earth—
everyone who is called by my name,
whom I created for my glory,
whom I formed and made.’
Matthew 10:26-31
‘So have no fear of them; for nothing is covered up that will not be uncovered, and nothing secret that will not become known. What I say to you in the dark, tell in the light; and what you hear whispered, proclaim from the housetops. Do not fear those who kill the body but cannot kill the soul; rather fear him who can destroy both soul and body in hell. Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? Yet not one of them will fall to the ground unperceived by your Father. And even the hairs of your head are all counted. So do not be afraid; you are of more value than many sparrows.
Sermon
Let the words of my mouth, and the meditation of all our hearts, be acceptable in thy sight, O Lord our Rock and our Redeemer.
In our Gospel tonight Jesus says:
“Do not fear those who kill the body.”
Do not fear them.
That’s a hard ask. Especially now. Especially today.
I have spent the past week making prayer stations for this church. I spent over ten hours going through one of the many lists of trans murder victims, and formatting it, so it could be used over this weekend.
The list we’ve used at St Nick’s comes from the Trans Murder Monitoring Project, and in their list, every name comes with a story. And that means I know, in graphic detail, how every single one of the 375 people on this years list died. At the hands of parents, partners, and strangers. People shot, stabbed, stoned, beaten, and burned to death. Of mutilated corpses, and horrific last moments. I am haunted by all of this - and I know, now, intimately, what it is I should fear.
But God says, “Do not fear.” “Do not be afraid.” In both of tonight's readings we are called to the opposite of fear. But what is that? Joy? Bravery? Fearlessness?
I posit that the opposite of fear, is faith. Fear and faith are, after all, forms of belief. Belief in something that can or will happen.
For there to be fear, there has to be something to be fearful of. And for there to be faith, there has to be something to be faithful in. And in that similarity lies, also, the fundamental difference.
Fear is something you do not participate in. Fear is something that happens to you. You are fearful of things.
But faith - faith is something you are inextricably linked with. You are faithful in things. Faithful to things. The only times you are faithful of things, is when that thing is claiming possession of you. The faithful ones of God.
In faith you are part of something bigger than yourself, and in fear, you are alone.
And that is how, tonight, I stand here without fear - despite all the odds. And that is how God can call upon us to be without fear - despite all the odds. Because in God we are part of something bigger than ourselves.
In faith, there is no fear. And there is nothing of which we should be afraid.
This may seem like a ridiculous statement to many of you. I am sure you, like me, have been told to fear God’s wrath, and the retribution to come. Told that as trans people, as queer people, we are, somehow, broken, or lesser. That we should be afraid.
But we have heard, in our readings tonight, of God’s love. We are, all of us, children of God, and as our readings state, we have been “created”, “formed”, “redeemed”, and “called”. We are “precious in God’s sight,” and God “loves” us.
In Mark, Jesus goes on and on about Sparrows. They were, at the time of his speaking, the cheapest of the edible birds. Of little use, and little worth. The bottom of the pecking order. The lowest of creation. Two sold for a penny. And God sees them. God knows them.
Now, in this society, at this time, trans people are often seen as the bottom of the pecking order. The lowest of creation. And God sees us. God knows us. God loves us. Even the hairs of our heads are all counted.
Because that is the most startling thing - God knows us. God loves us. God, incredibly, has faith in us - Just as we have faith in God.
Because where fear is a separation, a form of isolation, faith is a connection formed through familiarity. And God’s faith in us comes from a full and complete knowledge of who we are.
God’s faith in us is entire; and stronger, by far, than any human sense of fear. Especially the kind of fear that festers, turning to hatred, and murder.
Fear is a human thing. Fear is a lonely thing. Fear is without true power and can only destroy. But our God is a God of creation, and so They created us. And They have faith in us. And They know us. And They love us. Yes - - God loves us. God loves us because God knows us. Every tiny part of us, entire.
And so we are trans, not in spite of God, but because of God. To be trans, and to transition, (whatever that means for you), is to partake, in some small way, in that wondrous act of creation.
Just as we create art and music, just as we create, by human hands, the bread and wine that will soon be laid on this altar - in some small way, we help to create ourselves - guided by God. Gifts from God. Our true selves: called and created, named and known.
You see, throughout the Bible God names people, and renames them. Our first reading speaks of Jacob, of Israel. One person, two names. After a night quite literally spent wrestling with God (or an angel, it’s not clear), God gifts him a new name. He is transformed, recreated, changed, and affirmed - from Jacob - Hebrew for “deceiver,” to Israel - meaning “the one who wrestles with God”. And as we give up our old names, shed them in this act of mirroring creation, we move from deceiving ourselves as to the truths of our selves, and we wrestle with God. Joining, bodily, in this act of creation.
Not an act of rebellion, but an act of faith. An act of intimacy with God. Entwining ourselves in this tangle of creation. Becoming unafraid.
And each of us are gathered up - from the ends of the earth, from the bowels of hatred, and fear, from the depths of oppression and persecution - gathered by a God who is with us. So the flames do not consume, and the rivers do not overwhelm.
And so how can we fear?
Even in this present time, amidst this present darkness. Even as hatred, ignorance, and bigotry flourish, God is with us.
In our struggle, God is with us.
And so yesterday, and today, and every day to come, we shall mourn and lament of what has been done. Of the actions taken against God’s beloved creation.
We shall cry out at the sting of injustice, and repent of the wrongs done by us, and in our name.
We shall heed the Gospel call - to love others as ourselves; to treat the lowest among us with the same care as we would treat Jesus Christ himself; to create the Kingdom of Heaven here, on earth - through the dismantling of the structures of oppression, and a care for all of creation.
Trans liberation cuts across all areas of identity - those of us more likely to be killed are black, are refugees, are sex workers, are women, are without shelter, without money, without family.
We cannot know the true numbers of trans people killed because we are also without names, without dignity, without record. Without justice.
Yet even though it is, in many ways, impossible, we remember each and every trans person who has died unjustly this year, and in the years gone by. Those murdered, those pushed to suicide, those whose deaths have gone unrecorded, and those whose deaths cannot be recorded.
God sees them, and knows them, even as we cannot. God sees the scale of this injustice, even as we cannot.
As Christians, we worship a God who is a God of Love, and a God of Justice. And tonight we mark a great and ongoing injustice.
May we turn from fear, and know we are loved.
May we be unafraid, as we speak out in lamenting and repentance.
May we begin, from this moment on, the hard and worthy work; of remembrance - not as a token act, but as a catalyst, for the creation of a world in which remembrance services like this one are not necessary.
A world in which each of us are seen as, and treated like, beloved ones of God. Created in love. Held in love. And returned, to love. Through the mercy and justice of God, our creator, and our redeemer - who looks upon us as “precious” and “honoured”, and by whom, we were “formed”, and “made”.
Transgender and cisgender people alike.
Amen.