I had to become a woman to become a feminist

Sermon on John 12:20-33

I had to become a woman to understand feminism. I even had to become a pastor to become a feminist. Before I started working, I honestly told people: No, I am not a feminist. I mean, I get it that that was a thing in the 1970s and 1980s but we got equal rights and everything. So, I don’t think we still need to fight for emancipation. I never felt like I had to work harder at school to achieve anything. Or that I was treated differently as a girl. No one ever told me that there were things I couldn’t or shouldn’t do. Except jumping with my skies. I was told at a very young age that that might rip my uterus and that maybe I wouldn’t be able to have kids then. This theory, I just looked it up for this sermon for the first time — that physical activity can make women infertile — has been around since the Victorian era. And it’s just another example of how somehow society got this idea, that women’s bodies need to be controlled. Because it’s all about fertility when it comes to women, right. As if our bodies weren’t anything good for anything else. 

This past week has been mostly about women's bodies in the news. About Asian women whose bodies provoked a man and his own sex fantasies, he himself deemed to be impure. Yet, instead of working his way through his desires and shame, he took it out on the very objects of his desire. Women. It’s an ancient pattern. Nothing new under the sun. As if our bodies were just here for men.

And then, Cuomo is in trouble now. After having troubled so many women on a daily basis, during encounters that sound more than normal to me. Shockingly normal in a male-dominated world. Shockingly normal because none of the incidents sound unfamiliar to me. Or to my female colleagues. Or to my girlfriends in other jobs. It’s our reality to be told how to look, how to smile. It’s our life that men I am not friends with will feel the entitlement to touch my back, to pet my shoulder. I guess because I am a woman? It’s #MeToo Round 2 when sexual harassment doesn’t start when someone gets raped. It starts when women’s bodies are considered to be eye candy for everyone. As if our bodies were up for grabs.

When I was in seminary, I laughed at my very few friends who took feminist theology. Who needs that, I thought. Why change beloved language. Why make people upset. No, it’s not important to me whether we speak about God as a man or woman. Because, come on, I know that God doesn’t have a gender anyways. Not realizing that words have power, shape images, shape power structures. If God is male, Male = God, right? And then, women in the bible only seem to exist to give birth. Ok, once to God’s Son. At least.

And then, I became a pastor. Stepped into spaces dominated by male colleagues and male councils. Just the other day at a meeting with clergy and the city of Fremont I was the only female pastor. I get like three times more comments on how I look, how I smile, how I walk than on my sermons. Mostly well-meant compliments. Sometimes unsolicited advice about the length of my hair like: Women with long blonde hair look old! Straight into my face. At my former church people first didn’t want me to wear my alb and then complained about the length (or the shortness) of my skirts. So, I offered them to wear my alb. Problem solved.

4, 5 years into this job I have become a full-blown feminist. Just if you haven’t figured that yet. Here is my confession. It just came with the job. I didn’t ask for it. I even fought it for a long time. Thought I was smarter than other women and didn’t need the fight. Which is the worst enemy to any cause. When someone that benefits from a cause doesn’t think that cause is legit. Women can be women’s worst enemy.

In order to truly understand something, I didn’t know before, something had to die in me. My ignorance, or my assurance to know everything which is ignorance after all. Jesus says in today’s gospel: 24Very truly, I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. My assurance, my hubris, my “it’s the 21st-century” attitude had to die to start seeing the truth. And suddenly, I saw. And it bears fruits, hopefully.

But there is more reason to be a feminist and advocate. Much more. Today, I want to introduce you to a wonderful colleague of mine. The Reverend Barbara Peronteau who serves at St. James in San Leandro. One day, I will have her preach for you, I promise.

We bonded over a ride-share back from a seminar on church leadership and intentional intern ministry. My family had dropped me off at Lake Tahoe for the week, but I had not figured out how to get back to Berkeley. I was sure there would be other pastors from the Bay Area though. So, the very first night, I just got up and asked for a ride back. Barbara waived at me, deal made. 

On the way back we talked for 4 hours straight. Except for the moment when we got pulled over by police for speeding in her baby blue Mustang. We both were super nervous. Afterward, I understood, why. Barbara is a Transgender woman. By definition, a transgender person is one whose gender identity is at odds with the body they were born with. And the police isn’t known to treat Transgender people especially well. She told me that there are states she can’t drive through. Because if she had an accident, first responders could legally refuse to help her. They could let her die and get away with it. Just because her body might make someone feel uncomfortable. And that still seems to be the greatest crime one can commit these days. To make people with power over you uncomfortable. And if this sounds ancient and familiar at the same time? It’s the season of Lent. We are walking the path with Jesus right now. The path that will end with his body being up for grabs, shamed, and humiliated by people who ruled. Authorities who felt threatened by the unknown. By a man who didn’t fit the categories of servant or king. Man or God. He was both, challenging at best, threatening to many.

Now, I hadn’t really talked to Transgender people before I came to Berkeley. I hadn’t been friends with any. In Berkeley, I met a number of them. Pastors, students in seminary, kids at school. And like always, the more I was around people with non-binary gender identities, the more comfortable I was. And the more shocked by the stories of struggle and loss. Of people who lost the love and respect of their families after they came out as trans. Of people who were told by the church that they were sin personified. That God was only able to make men and women, that God didn’t make mistakes so it had to be them who were mistaken about their own identity. 

Barbara grew up in a Christian home. She says: "I prayed every single night, 'God, when I wake up, can you please make me female?'" "At the height of our male testosterone flowing, and my prayer was to wake up and look like Raquel Welch." I looked Raquel up. Barbara does look quite like her now.

For over 50 years, Barbara “was trying to be someone I'm not so other people could be happy." Others being parents, friends, family, the wife. Barbara rightfully feared that they wouldn't accept who she really was. She felt like she had to pretend to be something she wasn’t “so you can go through society and be the somebody that everybody else wants you to be."  To live according to our norms, she had to suppress her true self. 

In 2016 she told her story as part of the Berks Story project about people in Berks County, Pennsylvania. Created in 2009 by David Walker, the project was inspired by intimate first-person narratives told on radio programs such as Story Corps and This American Life. Jane Palmer joined David in 2012 as co-producer. The mission of Berks Story is to share the extraordinary personal stories of ordinary people. But see for yourselves.

Very truly, I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. Those who love their life lose it, and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life.

When Barbara showed to the world the person God had made her, she lost everything. Her wife, friends, family connections. Her status and safety of living as a white man. Not only is she a woman now, but a transgender woman. Meaning, her chances of being sexually harassed and becoming a victim of hate crime have just increased by a lot. Her life is not safe anymore in most parts of this country and this world. Her body isn’t even worth protecting anymore to so many people. She went from all to nothing. To gain her life. 

When Barbara transitioned she lost her job like about 60% of transgender people. Barbara was a pastor. While the UCC where she is ordained stood behind her, her congregation was free to let her go. That’s called congregational church policy. A denomination can be as welcoming and loving on the outside. It’s still up to individual congregations to actually call or keep a transgender pastor. Most choose not to. The Bay Area is one of the few refuges in this country where transgender pastors may find calls. Part-time though mostly. But at least…

Transgender pastors still wait for calls forever and mostly serve tiny congregations with small salaries. Because our church bodies are more concerned with keeping the peace than standing up for their pastors. It’s easy to say what is right without fighting for this right to become reality everywhere. The church loves its life so much it would often rather lose it than upset any long-term member. Which basically means that your church doesn’t believe in people’s ability to grow in love and change. Which should be insulting to everyone! 

Very truly, I tell you, unless a grain of wheat falls into the earth and dies, it remains just a single grain; but if it dies, it bears much fruit. Those who love their life lose it, and those who hate their life in this world will keep it for eternal life. Whoever serves me must follow me, and where I am, there will my servant be also. Whoever serves me, the Father will honor.

You know what amazes me most? That Barbara’s faith stayed strong. Even though the church treated her badly. Even though most churches will make sure that she doesn’t feel like she belongs. Even though just in 2020 nearly 50 transgender women got killed in the US just for being who they were. Even though it is still ok for states to pass laws that take away health insurance from transgender people or allow medical personal to refuse treatment to them. 

Thank God, God is greater than our churches and our hearts. Thank God, God doesn’t make mistakes. After all, that is a true lesson. God created people, beautiful people. And God knew all the way what in Barbara’s life had to die to bear fruit. The girl wanted out. It had always been there. But after over 50 years she wanted to be seen. To be loved. To be. Eternally. Even if that meant to lose life as it was.

Because of all the small-hearted people around her. People that somehow still get to ignore the covenant God made with us when God promised: 33[…] I will put my law within them, and I will write it on their hearts; and I will be their God, and they shall be my people. 34No longer shall they teach one another, or say to each other, “Know the Lord,” for they shall all know me, from the least of them to the greatest, says the Lord; for I will forgive their iniquity, and remember their sin no more.”

Thank God, God’s love is greater than our little hearts. So, there is hope for our churches. And for our world. Amen.