This is still pride month.

And I think it is important to talk about what that means.

How many of you have had to fight for your status within the structure of human society? How many of you have had to fight for the right to be acknowledged as human beings in this society?

Because we have a very low number of people of color in this congregation, and because we have plenty of women in this congregation who may or may have not thought about the fact that they have only relatively recently had the same rights as men in this congregation, I would submit that maybe it’s not something we think about all the time.

I was ordained on June 28, 1991. The 22nd anniversary of Stonewall. I want to talk a little bit about what that means to me.

I was asked when I would like my ordination to take place and I was still in the closet, but I chose this date as something that was significant for me. Because it was the date in which people like me were not going to take it any longer. It was the date in which a lot of people who were being persecuted and shamed and arrested, and held back, decided that this was because they were seen as inhuman, and they were not. They were not inhuman. And they weren’t gonna take it anymore.

I have watched documentaries, I have talked with people who were there, I have visited the places, I have had a drink at Stonewall bar, I have sat with people who found that night and the next few nights to be something that was completely transformative. Because it was about taking back power. It was about saying I am a human being. And you cannot make me less than.

As a kid who grew up in small town Montana in the 70s I never knew that I could be part of a community that insisted on being human. But I’m also very aware that in our Episcopal tradition that we need to respect the dignity of every human being regardless of how they identify. Does it hurt someone if we call them by the pronouns which which they don’t prefer? Then don’t do that. It’s simple. Do we want to hurt people on purpose? Just because they do not conform to what we believe should be? Do we want to put our own agendas on people who may have a history of pain with our tradition? It’s our responsibility to be kind. It’s our responsibility to be respectful. It’s our responsibility to trust the experience of other human beings to tell us how they need to be treated and regarded. It is our responsibility to be Christlike. And that’s what I think being Christlike is all about. People treating each other with respect and love compassion and kindness. And I may not understand, I may not agree, but how dare I question the experience of the reality of another human being. I can’t. And until you walk a mile in their shoes, you can’t either. Let it go. Everyone gathered here is doing the best they can to love and follow Jesus the Christ. And that should be good enough for anyone gathered here. And if it’s not, you need to talk to one of us.

When I look at the scriptures today, all I see is that David was destroyed by the death of Jonathan- and that Jesus was completely moved to tears and maybe more by the woman with the hemorrhage and by the death of the daughter of Jairus. The words of devastation have an amazing component of hope to them- and I can’t help but look at another translation of what he said to the people around him as he moved towards that young girl. It’s a translation I love, that’s not really in the translation here today, it is “Fear is useless, what is needed is trust.” I think it’s worth repeating. “Fear is useless, what is needed is trust”

It’s a reminder for all of us, we have to remember that we are not God.

And that God has created things beyond our imagining, and that our job is to be trusting and kind and generous, even if it doesn’t match our experience or our beliefs. Fear is useless what is needed is trust. I think being a Christian is much more about trusting another’s experience over almost anything else to bring us closer to God. Your experience of God and my experience of God should bring us all closer together. Even if it is a bit different.

There is so much fear in this country and in the world today: fear of “the other,” fear of losing a job and not being able to pay the mortgage, fear of crazy people with guns, fear of not succeeding, oh, so many fears. How do we confront them?

The psalmist’s answer is to wait on the Lord; St. Paul’s answer is to remember what Jesus did for us; and Jesus’ answer is to be whole. This wholeness, “holiness” in theological terms, is possible only when we are focused on the one who brought us to new life with a trust so complete that it takes away fear, even fear of death.

“Who touched my clothes?” And we fall on our knees and confess, “We touched you, Lord, for we are afraid.” And then he says to us, “Your faith has made you well, healed of the evil that swirls around you, free of the fear that is being proclaimed in the public square, released from the need to squander your energies in things that do not matter.”

So, healed like the woman who had been sick for many years, brought to new life like the daughter of Jairus, we get up from our knees, listen when he has says, “Give her something to eat,” and approach his table in gratitude, free from fear.

When I work with couples in my practice, I have a definition of love. “Love is a commitment to always work to understand the beloved.”

Not judge, not put on trial, not guage by my experience, but to look at that beloved person within their own context and try to understand. This is part of the Christian tradition. Our job is to try to understand and not judge. Our job is to be slow to judge and Swift to love. Because most of us are just doing the best we can. And that’s what God wants from us.

Amen.