Guest commentary by Amy Cerniglia
Lesbian Day of Visibility, marked annually on April 26, celebrates lesbians around the world. With this day always landing somewhere in the Easter season, I love connecting the surrounding lectionary texts to an otherwise secular holiday. Although the creators of Lesbian Day of Visibility were likely not thinking of Good Shepherd Sunday, it strikes me as profound that the two days fall so closely this year.
On Good Shepherd Sunday, many churches read Psalm 23, a psalm beloved even by many outside the walls of our churches. A now-retired minister once told me of his experience leading a funeral for a man who had died from AIDS. After many other pastors in town refused, this minister agreed preside at the funeral, and a friend of the deceased requested a reading from Psalm 23. The minister described how, by the end of the reading, there was not a dry eye in this room full of openly gay men and women who would never have been accepted in churches at that time. Someone asked if he would read the passage again, and after he finished, another request came just as quickly. In a way, this story breaks my heart, as it reveals the deep hunger for Christ by those excluded from the church. But it also fills me with gratitude for the compassionate shepherds like this minister who freely share Christ with the marginalized.
Like many LGBTQ+ people, lesbians understand what it means to share a table in the presence of their enemies. Until we can be assured of our safety at the table, we are often forced to guess, gently attempt to mention our families and drop hints. In “Working the Angles: The Shape of Pastoral Integrity,” Eugene Peterson describes how God prepares each place we enter before we ever arrive. When we approach a space, we are only walking into the work God is already doing. This reminds me of the assurance in Psalm 23 that God prepares a table for us in the presence of our enemies. Women dreading the fearful moment of coming out as gay may be comforted to remember that God is already working for good in the hearts of those who will hear the news. Even in the deepest pains of rejection and abandonment, in the valley of the shadow of death, God does not leave us to walk alone. Christ is the ever-present Good Shepherd attending to even that last one of the lost sheep.
In Sunday’s New Testament reading (John 10:11-18), Christ contrasts the “hired hand” with his role as the Good Shepherd. At the first sight of danger, the hired hand runs away, leaving the sheep to be taken by the wolves. I think of the many Christian leaders who quietly believe that God blesses same-sex relationships, but fear the consequences of honesty more than they fear the damage that their silence causes to marginalized people. I don’t write this with the belief that I deserve for someone else to put their reputation on the line for me, but because I believe that Jesus deserves the fullest proclamation of his good news. After all, Jesus risked everything in preaching the gospel, and called his followers to do the same. Brave author Jen Hatmaker lost much of her initial influence upon revealing herself as an ally, but has emerged as a leading voice among progressive Christians.
Christ offers a powerful example in these stark words: “I am the good shepherd. The good shepherd lays down his life for the sheep.” Furthermore, Jesus adds that no one is taking his life from him, but that he is laying it down himself. Women marginalized for their sexual orientation may feel like the sheep referenced in verse 16, the “other sheep that do not belong to this fold.” But Christ promises to bring them also, so that all will be gathered into one flock. Regardless of the distinctions and categories that culture may dictate, Christ is not ashamed of any of his sheep. While we don’t know the sexual identity of every woman Jesus healed or helped, we know he openly welcomed women from relational statuses criticized by his culture. Walking alongside Good Shepherd, Christians can trust that God’s Word will prevail without our efforts to craft a more palatable version.
Visibility is a blessing and a curse in a world where not all people view marginalized women through the eyes of a loving God. While people long to be seen and understood, many gay people around the world still face persecution for their honesty. Misogyny also results in heightened violence against women. On Lesbian Day of Visibility, we pray for all who live at the intersection of those two identities. We lift up lesbians and their allies in the Presbyterian Church (U.S.A.) steadfastly preaching Christ’s inclusive love. Finally, we rest in the everlasting arms of a God who is shepherding the whole diversity of creation into one beloved flock.
AMY CERNIGLIA is the director of music and arts at Peace Presbyterian Church in Bradenton, Florida. She is also an inquirer for ordination pursuing a Master of Divinity at The University of Dubuque Theological Seminary.
