By anna blaedel A dear friend recently married her beloved, and I had the pleasure of being present for their ceremony. Under the chuppah, they ritualized and celebrated the love that they are finding and nurturing and savoring and sharing and deepening together. Invested in both honoring and queering ancient ritual, they reimagined the sheva brachot, or seven blessings, traditionally recited, and invited chosen family to offer blessings connected to the broader themes. I was invited to offer a blessing for community, for transforming the world through justice work. What a sacred practice,...

By Rev. Theresa Ninán Soto The cry of the cicada Gives us no sign That presently it will die. -Basho With [The cry of the cicada] and its single image, Basho combines the sound of summer, the sense of screaming, and the distinct reaction that one may have to the unyielding presence of insects or the larger embrace of nature, untamed. I read this poem in the high, hot middle of summer and imagined that this one moment, in the life of the cicada, unabashed, full-throated, has wisdom for us. What are queer and trans people called to in this moment? Maybe we have a call to sing out, and beyond...

I recently refound an affirmation of faith I wrote over twenty years ago. Returning to this heartfelt articulation of belief, I felt tenderness for my past self–wisdom I already held, and all I was on the precipice of learning. I felt deep gratitude for the transformative events, teachings, teachers, and lifeworlds that have necessitated shifts in worldview, political analysis and commitment, religious identity, spiritual belonging–even though transformation usually, if not always, involves some element of loss, or grief, or pain. I felt the embarrassing cringe at language that was once...

By Rose J. Percy I love my friends and still, sometimes, I run and hide from their love. I am afraid to look into their eyes and see the truths that keep me here. Stuck, behind these walls with the cracked foundation of hyper-independence. I want to share my feelings with them, hidden behind a code. But they look past it, and ask a simple question: How can we be here for you? I let out a sigh. I often call them “prayer-sighs,” since I know there are breaths lined with petitions. I think about that verse, “where two or three are gathered.” It used to come up when church folks were trying to...

Alice Walker described her first encounter with unapologetic, queer delight, as “a revelation.” “The sight of two grown men locked together in a thorough and obviously toe-curling kiss,” she witnessed, was “a bit like my seeing a bearded iris for the first time.” Stunning beauty–glorious and strange and alive. “How sad,” she concluded, “now never to see men holding hands, while everywhere one looks they are holding guns.” I’ve been meditating on her testimony of revelation throughout this Pride season. So much is in crisis, collapse. The world, falling apart in so many ways, and so fast....

by Rev. Molly Bolton Trigger Warning: pregnancy/infant loss My friend told me a story of a man who was wailing in grief and how his spiritual elders gathered around him to press soil into his hands. They were grounding him to the earth while sorrow ripped through this body. I have known the depths of staggering sorrow recently; going into preterm labor with my twins during Advent last year. River and Wren were born too early to remain in this space-time continuum for more than a moment. As a chaplain and a spiritual director, it has been strange to wade through the swamp of grief, watching...