Reclaiming Our Poetic Souls: A Pride Month Reflection on Authenticity and Faith
Have you ever wondered when the creativity and wonder you felt as a child faded away? This Pride Month, let's explore a question that lingers for many of us: where did that childhood spark go? Often, societal expectations overshadow it, pressuring us to follow rules and fit in, sometimes silencing the unique voice within. This pressure can be especially strong for those who don't conform to traditional categories, like members of the LGBTQIA+ community.My own journey reflects this. Growing up in the Dutch Reformed Church in South Africa, I wrestled with the message that homosexuality was a sin. The constant act of confessing every Sunday fueled feelings of shame and a deep internal conflict between who I knew I was and who I believed I should be.
Preaching on Pride Sunday, June 23rd, at the Presbyterian United Church of Christ in Saratoga Springs was meaningful and healing to me. In my experience, some churches use the language of "sin" to create shame and division. My sermon aimed to shift this focus, promoting love and acceptance instead. While this approach is not always popular in many Reformed Churches, it emerged from my own struggle with the concept of sin and its impact on authenticity.
The Poetry of Childhood
Naomi Shihab Nye, in her poem "One Boy Told Me," reflects the unfettered creativity and wonder of a child. These aren't Naomi's words, but the verbatim observations of her young son at two and three years old.
In reflecting on this poem's origins, Naomi shares insight from William Stafford: When asked, "When did you become a poet?" Stafford would reply, "That's not the right question. The question is, When did you stop being a poet?" Naomi adds, "We're all poets when we're little, and some of us just try to keep up the habit."
Reflecting on Pride and reclaiming our authentic selves, let us ponder through this child's wise words. When and why have some of us stopped being poets?
The Struggle for Authenticity
Col. Edward Thomas Ryan lived a remarkable life as a military veteran, firefighter, and local radio station owner. He was also a devoted member of his Catholic church. Though an exemplary and outstanding citizen who served his community and country, he carried a profound secret throughout his 85 years. In his obituary published in the Albany Times-Union on June 8th, the beginning of Pride month and the day before Albany Pride, Ryan came out as gay in his own words:
"I must tell you one more thing. I was Gay all my life: thru grade school, thru High School, thru College, thru Life. I was in a loving and caring relationship with Paul Cavagnaro of North Greenbush. He was the love of my life. We had 25 great years together. Paul died in 1994 from a medical procedure gone wrong. I'll be buried next to Paul."
In an interview, his niece believes his siblings likely knew of his sexuality but never discussed it openly.
In his obituary, Ryan expressed regret for not being open to family and friends, saying, "I'm sorry for not having the courage to come out as Gay. I feared being ostracized: by Family, Friends, and Co-Workers. Seeing how people like me were treated, I could not do it. Now that my secret is known, I'll forever Rest in Peace."
This story poignantly highlights the struggle many queer1 individuals have faced in living authentically due to fear of rejection and discrimination. Even for someone like Col. Ryan, concealing this core part of his identity for decades seemed necessary. As a person who came out as gay later in life, I can resonate with Col. Ryan's experience. "Living in a world so hostile to homosexuality inhibits development and creates contradictions and dissonance that demand repression. In fact, it seems almost surprising—even heroic—that anyone comes out at all."2
The Journey to Wholeness
While there are numerous reasons why individuals may conceal their true identities, one factor stands out as particularly significant for many in the queer community. The traditional Christian doctrine of sin, particularly Augustine's view of original sin, has significantly impacted queer individuals, furthered by his view that God willed sexuality for the procreation within marriage between a cisgender man and woman. This view contributed tremendously to regarding non-heterosexual relationships as disobedient to God's will. The practice of confessing sins further exacerbated alienation from ourselves as it forced queer individuals to denounce core aspects of who we are. This repression of the self creates a deep internal conflict between one's authentic self and societal expectations, often leading to shame, anxiety, self-hatred, and internalized homophobia.
In a congregation that I served as pastor, a transgender parishioner shared her heartbreaking story. From a young age, she knew she was truly a girl despite being assigned male at birth. Yet, in her conservative church, such thoughts about gender identity were considered sinful. On a Good Friday service the congregants were invited to write their sins on a piece of paper and then come forward and nail the pieces of paper to a cross with a hammer and a nail. That night she nailed not a sin but her very identity as a girl. With each strike into the wood, she felt she was denying and crucifying her authentic self, an experience that scarred her for life.
When and why have some of us stopped being poets?
The poet within us stops speaking when societal expectations and religious doctrines pressure us to deny our true or undivided selves.
In his book, A Hidden Wholeness: The Journey Toward an Undivided Life, Parker Palmer3 describes how we are born as complete, undivided beings. However, over time, we build barriers between our inner selves and our external lives, either to protect our inner selves or to deceive others.
Our true selves face challenges from both external societal issues such as homophobia, racism, sexism, and economic injustice, and from internal struggles like jealousy, resentment, self-doubt, and fear. These forces would have less impact if we didn't cooperate with them. However, resisting them is risky, so we often deny our true selves, live inauthentically, and betray our identities. It's only when the pain from this inner conflict becomes unbearable that many of us begin a journey to reconcile these divided parts and live more authentically. Our souls continually urge us to return to our original, whole selves and live grounded, connected, and complete lives. From a Reformed tradition, our soul yearns to return to the person God created us to be, the person God called good in the creation narrative, when the Divine bestowed the Original Blessing upon us, not Original Sin.
Jesus in the Temple
In Luke 2:41-52 , Jesus is introduced as he expresses his undivided self in a theological discussion with the teachers in the temple. As a twelve-year-old boy, Jesus impresses with his knowledge. This story echoes Roman heroic leaders like Augustus, who received an exceptional education at an early age. Yet there is a difference, as Jesus claims a different authority than the Roman emperor; the narrative directs us to see him as a young prophet and future leader of a different realm than the empire.
After his parents searched for him, they finally found him in the temple, and Mary exclaimed, “Child, why have you treated us like this? Look, your father and I have been searching for you in great anxiety.” The mortifying guilt!
As if they did not know from the beginning who their child was. Countless dreams and angel visitations told them what was to happen, who this child was, and what would become of him. In fact, Mary sang Jesus' song, the Magnificat, to him while he was still in her womb and probably as a little boy (Luke 1: 48b-55): “He has shown strength with his arm... He has brought down the powerful from their thrones, and lifted up the lowly."
Jesus could not compromise his identity for the sake of his parents. In his response, he claims his undivided self, saying, “Why were you searching for me? Did you not know that I must be in my Father’s house?” (verse 49 NRSV). Note that “my Father’s house …” does not only refer to a specific location, but the understanding of “household” in the Greco-Roman context means authority. Jesus is claiming God's authority and aligning himself with God’s purpose in the temple under divine compulsion as he teaches.
The Scripture simply states that from here, Jesus increases in wisdom and stature (or years), referring to his capacity to discern God’s realm and purpose. One would think that Jesus claiming his identity at such a young age would have been enough. Yet, at pivotal moments throughout his earthly ministry, God repeatedly affirmed that Jesus was Their beloved Child - first with the voice from heaven at his baptism, again with the voice from the cloud during the Transfiguration, and finally near the end of his public teaching in Jerusalem. Also crucial is that one of Jesus' first acts of his public ministry was to create a community around him of misfits, people who did not fit the norms and were deemed unworthy
Reclaiming Pride
We all need affirmation, don't we? We all need pride!
In his book, Radical Love: An Introduction to Queer Theology, Patrick S. Cheng4 argues that for many queer and other oppressed people, the reality is that we do not suffer from too much pride but rather a lack of it. This, he says, is the true sin, not having enough pride and not realizing “That of God” within each one of us. Sin, translated from its Hebrew origin, is “to miss the mark,” and manifests itself as hiding or running away from the gifts God has bestowed upon us instead of elevating ourselves with authentic pride as God-carriers.
By centering radical love over rigid doctrine, Cheng offers an empowering spiritual framework celebrating self-acceptance and human dignity—one that is incredibly liberating for queer people and siblings oppressed by religious dogma. He reimagines sin not as breaking strict rules but as opposing God's "radical love"—a boundless, boundary-dissolving love that affirms the divine worth inherent in all people. Grace, in this paradigm, is the profound act of "coming out" into one's authentic goodness, embracing the self (the undivided self) rather than rejecting it out of shame.
We all need affirmation, don't we? We all need pride!
A Call to Embrace Our True Selves
Embracing our true selves is difficult, especially after years of being told we are not worthy. Many of us have been silenced and denied opportunities to be heard and to be seen for who we are. Claiming our true selves can be lonely and almost impossible to attain by ourselves. We all need supportive communities and relationships that offer unconditional love, refrain from fixing us, attempt to set us "straight," and avoid prying. In such communities we can grow and embrace our true selves.
So, on this Pride Sunday:
Let us create a community where we all can embrace our undivided selves as blessed children of God without shame.
Let us reclaim our authenticity and wonder, finding rest in being fully known and loved.
May we all feel the divine affirmation: "You are my beloved child, in whom I am well-pleased."
And, may we all, in the words of Col. Ryan, find the strength to finally come out and express our authentic selves so we all might "rest in peace."
