A Queer Pilgrim

If you had a chance to talk to one of your heroes in life, a mentor extraordinaire, someone whose mind you would like to “pick and probe,” or share a glass of wine, who would it be? Is there a figure in history that is larger than life that you would like to get to know better? I ask this question during Black History Month (Feb), and Transfiguration Sunday, thinking of those people who achieved and accomplished the impossible, given the earlier circumstances and trajectory of their lives. Would it be Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr.? The public orator Frederic Douglass? The trail-blazing politician Rep. Shirley Chisholm? Or the civil rights leader who shook even LBJ, Fannie Lou Hamer? These are all ordinary people who went through a series of transformative or transfiguration-moments throughout their lives, doing the hard work in crossing boundaries and climbing over hurdles, abundantly self-conscious of who they are and who God is when faced with incredible challenges in life. I was

I’m one who has lived through the experience of losing more than one job or position simply because I’m an out gay man. It is a humbling experience, knowing that I lost a job or three or four not because of my intellectual abilities, my ability to fulfill the job requirements, putting in the the “extra” work and going the “extra mile,” or any other job performance issues. I’m a very conscientious worker. But, because I am gay, I have been shuffling around jobs for a long time, usually creating jobs where there were none before. At the time of being refused tenure, or a contract coming to a surprising end, or a vote that fell one vote short for a full-time church position--all because I’m gay--it is a time in which one knows one’s true friends, and those who we thought were friends were simply not there. They were not friends after all. Those who stood with me were in solidarity with me, and saw the injustice that was in action as I lost positions and jobs. Solidarity is defined as unit