How God Helps Us Say “I Am What I Am”

Today’s reflection is by Bondings 2.0 contributor Michaelangelo Allocca.

Today’s liturgical readings for the Fifth Sunday in Ordinary Time are available here.

Though wildly diverse in literary styles and content, the three lectionary readings for this Sunday all engage the common theme of acceptance: being accepted by others, but also by oneself – both, of course, inevitably linked to the ability to accept other people. 

This message is powerful at any time, but particularly appropriate in our current atmosphere, pervaded by rejection and exclusion of others for so many reasons, not least for being queer, trans, or nonbinary. One by one, these readings challenge us to drop the superficial lines of division, and get to – as the Holy Spirit always urges – welcome, acceptance, fellowship, collaboration, and journeying together.

The Isaiah reading confirms what an old friend once said to me: “If angels looked like the cuddly things on Hallmark cards, why would they have to open with ‘Don’t be  afraid!!!’ every time they show up?” Finding himself in God’s temple, Isaiah is confronted with “Seraphim … stationed above,” the throne, crying out, ““Holy, holy, holy is the LORD of hosts! All the earth is filled with his glory!” at which sound, “the frame of the door shook and the house was filled with smoke.” The verse omitted in the proclamation version we hear at Mass adds that seraphim have six wings, as if just two wouldn’t have been intimidating enough to poor Isaiah. (Yes, this where we learn of the hexapteral design mentioned in the hymn “Let All Mortal Flesh Keep Silence,” that is, “At His feet the six-winged seraph …”)

The narrative of Isaiah’s call is a fairly standard biblical situation – one where fear and confusion lead to a spiritual breakthrough. He first shows an inability to accept himself – ‘I am too unclean to be in the divine presence!’ – which of course makes it impossible to believe that God could accept him. 

Pause now and think of any queer child who has been taught that they are unclean, and therefore unacceptable to themselves, to anyone, and to God. 

The divine dramatic poetry of this Isaiah reading next gives us one of these terrifying seraphim very gently performing a symbolic act which says, “Hush, child – let this ember which perfumes God’s temple drive away your fears of uncleanness.” 

This transformative ritual brings Isaiah to declare “Here I am, Lord, send me!” in the briefest flutter of six wings. And now pause to ask, how will we bring that other child, in our time and situation, to the same place, where they belong just as much as Isaiah did?

The challenge of getting to acceptance is obvious in today’s reading from 1 Corinthians. Scripture scholars  usually and rightly focus  on what Paul says about Jesus and the resurrection in this passage.  I’d like to focus  instead on what Paul says about Paul. 

Paul has struggled to be accepted as an apostle, for an obvious reason:why should people, after all, trust someone who had for years been trying to kill them?He frequently insists on his “credentials,” as he does here, arguing, ‘I was good enough for Jesus: why isn’t that good enough for you?’ His line about “Last of all, as to one born abnormally, He appeared to me,” is ambiguous: in it, we may see either a strategy of humility – confessing his unworthiness, in hopes of eliciting the reader’s empathy; or, an actual internalization of the lack of acceptance other Christians have shown him. 

Whichever it is, he too shows how the Spirit has dragged him through this emotional minefield to the point where he can declare, unconsciously foreshadowing the great gay anthem from the Broadway musical La Cage aux Folles, “by the grace of God I am what I am” – insisting he is just as worthy as the other apostles, and also Isaiah, to be sent to do God’s work. 

Again, we need to pause here to ask, “How are we helping anyone taught they are ‘born abnormally’ get to where they feel as worthy as all others called and sent by God?”

Finally, in today’s gospel reading Luke gives us Peter, the great “I can do everything! … until I’m too terrified to do anything!” apostle of bluster, being pushed by Jesus through   a lack of self-acceptance. We can almost hear Peter sighing, “Fine: I’m the one who knows fishing, and I’ve been fishing fruitlessly all night, but I’ll try again, if you say so …” and then quickly becoming astonished by the literal boatload he pulls in–justas Isaiah had been by the angelic special effects. 

Peter’s reaction–“Depart from me, Lord, for I am a sinful man”  is –virtually identical to Isaiah’s initial reaction: “I’m unworthy to be in Your presence.” And now it’s Jesus’s turn to say, as angels had for centuries before him, “Don’t be afraid.” He follows up with the only effective rebuttal to anyone saying “I don’t deserve to be here”: a warm and gracious invitation to “Come with me.” 

At the risk of casting my own interpretive net too far for the parallel message: if you have ever worked with any struggling or questioning queer kids (or been one yourself), you know that every one of them has at least  one time thought “I’m not worthy, I don’t deserve to be here.” And even though they may initially be incredulous by our support, , we’ve just been shown three different messages we should offer them: : 

“I’m with you; I want to be with you, and you with me: come with me, and let’s do God’s work together.”

—Michaelangelo Allocca (he/him), New Ways Ministry, February 9, 2025