Suffering for the Truth, Flourishing in the Truth

Today’s post is from Brian Flanagan (he/him), a theologian and Senior Fellow at New Ways Ministry. He is the Past President of the College Theology and most recently Associate Professor at Marymount University in Arlington, Virginia. His research focuses on ecclesiology and ecumenism, and his most recent book is Stumbling in Holiness: Sin and Sanctity in the Church. He received his B.A. at the Catholic University of America, and his M.A. and Ph.D. in theology at Boston College. He is a married gay man and a parishioner at Holy Trinity Church in Georgetown, D.C.

Today’s liturgical readings for the 22nd Sunday of Ordinary Time can be found here.

“I say to myself, I will not mention him,
I will speak in his name no more.
But then it becomes like fire burning in my heart,
imprisoned in my bones;
I grow weary holding it in, I cannot endure it.” (Jer 20:9)

In today’s first reading from Jeremiah, we get to hear one of the epic complaints of the Hebrew Scriptures. He continues a few verses later: “Cursed be the day / on which I was born! / May the day my mother gave me birth / never be blessed! […] Why did I come forth from the womb, / to see sorrow and pain, / to end my days in shame?” (Jer 20: 14, 18)

Jeremiah never wanted to be a prophet. He’s put in the stocks, dumped down a well, abandoned by his friends, all for saying the truth. And even as he was announcing to the people of Jerusalem their impending defeat at the hands of the Babylonians, he also complains – loudly – that God has put him in this position. How can this possibly be good news?

While we don’t know anything about Jeremiah’s sexuality, this episode from his story might resonate with some LGBTQ+ Catholics and their families. [1] What many of us, perhaps most of us, hope for is the space and the freedom to live lives of quiet joy in friendships, work, family, and community, to purse holiness in love of God and of our neighbors. And yet how many times have LGBTQ+ folks been asked to keep silent, so as not to upset someone, cause an issue, rock the boat, embarrass someone? I’m not suggesting that there are not good reasons for discretion and prudence, and no one should ever disclose or be forced to disclose their sexuality or gender identity in a way that would endanger themselves or their families. But in places where simple acts like holding the hand of one’s spouse or specifying one’s chosen pronouns can be received as “shoving it in our face,” why have LGBTQ+ folks insisted on coming out in various ways?

Jeremiah’s experience of being a prophet and LGBTQ+ Catholics’ experience of coming out share one major thing in common: a commitment to telling the truth. When we try to hide in the shadows, we “grow weary holding it in.” We “cannot endure it.” Telling the truth to another about who we are is not part of some big conspiracy to take over the world, but rooted in a much simpler, much humbler impulse: the desire to be honest with others.

LGBTQ+ folks’ commitment to telling the truth about their own lives and their own experiences can be a deeply religious impulse – an act of fidelity to the truth, and thereby an act of fidelity to the God who is Truth. In refusing to comply with forms of “don’t ask, don’t tell,” LGBTQ+ folks are refusing to be complicit in regimes of mendacity that hide or obscure truth. And as we have seen in recent decades, the more such truth-telling happens, the less often it needs to happen in dramatic pronouncements or bold declarations. Instead, it is now able to happen more often and more organically via the more gentle, more normal routes of sharing who one is or who one loves over dinner with a new friend or at coffee hour after Mass. These acts of being “minor prophets” have begun to create the kind of world many of us hope for, and that I believe God is hoping for.

But such truth-telling comes with a cost: Jeremiah shows us that telling truths that make people uncomfortable sometimes get you thrown down a well. Today’s Gospel reading provides more specifics about the costliness of discipleship. “Whoever wishes to come after me must deny himself, take up his cross, and follow me,” Jesus teachings. “For whoever wishes to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it.” (Matt 24-25)

Jesus’ cruciform life is the pattern of our own lives as disciples of Christ, and perhaps of the lives of LGBTQ+ folks who suffer in their commitment to authenticity. This does not mean that suffering is somehow “good” for its own sake or that we should seek it out as a badge of honor. But fidelity to God, fidelity to the truth, and fidelity to the already-but-not-yet-fully-present reality of the Reign of God often leads to suffering imposed by the powers of this world.

Our LGBTQ+ siblings in vulnerable places and situations know very well how costly truth-telling can be. Those of us blessed enough to be cushioned from such immediate danger have continuing responsibilities to be in solidarity with these “martyrs for truth.” We also might value – without celebrating – the ways in which our own discipleship has united us to their suffering and Christ’s suffering, and take comfort in the deeper flourishing to which our crosses might lead us. At times like these, perhaps we can pray like Jeremiah, who in the midst of complaining, finds room to express his faith:

Lord of hosts, you test the just,
you see mind and heart,
Let me see the vengeance you take on them,
for to you I have entrusted my cause.

Sing to the Lord,
praise the Lord,
For he has rescued the life of the poor
from the power of the evildoers! (Jer 20:12-13)

[1] God instructs him not to take a wife or have children because “concerning the sons and daughters born in this place, the mothers who give them birth, the fathers who beget them in this land: Of deadly disease they shall die. Unlamented and unburied they will lie like dung on the ground. Sword and famine will make an end of them, and their corpses will become food for the birds of the sky and the beasts of the earth.” (Jer 16: 3-4) Fun stuff.

—Brian Flanagan (he/him), New Ways Ministry, Sep 3, 2023