The Temptation To Think We Are More Than–And Less Than

Jeromiah Taylor

Today’s reflection is from Jeromiah Taylor, the Assistant Opinions Editor at The National Catholic Reporter. He is also the former Digital Content Coordinator at New Ways Ministry.

Today’s liturgical readings for the First Sunday in Lent can be found by clicking here.

I have to be honest upfront. The liturgical readings for this first week of Lent are not conducive to LGBTQ+ writing. I am no exegetical genius, and some of these very words, stories and images are those which I and many others inherited as part and parcel of harmful and un-affirming theologies. Upon reading them, I thought to myself “why did I sign-up to do this?” 

It wasn’t that I didn’t understand the readings, or failed to find them stunningly beautiful. I’m thinking of lines such as:  “and, behold, angels came and ministered to him,” in the Gospel;”and so man became a living being,” in the first reading; and “But the gift is not like the transgression” in the second reading. These phrasings are lyrical capsules of the high-drama which attracted me to convert to Catholicism in the first place. But to tease from their fiber of sin and limitation and hubris some thread distinctly “LGBTQ+” has been a daunting challenge.  

What I’ve gotten from them is this: LGBTQ+ Catholics are to insist upon being children of God; we are to insist upon our eligibility for faithfulness. 

Perhaps I’m projecting my own scruples, but I think these readings attest to the democratic nature of sin. In other words, gay or trans Catholics are not in some special category of depravity and are not by virtue of our lives and choices somehow exempted from the very universal terms laid out in this week’s first reading: our lives come from God’s breath, are sustained by every word from God’s mouth, and are just as threatened as everyone else’s by the demonic whisper of did “God really tell you….?” 

That hissing, serpentine instigation has always struck me as profoundly telling because of the campy incredulity of really. This was the first and certainly the most catastrophic leading question in history. 

To her credit, Eve settles the first score, but ultimately considers  that the tree “pleasing to the eyes, and desirable for gaining wisdom” proves irresistible. How many Faustian pacts have since been signed to gain wisdom or to know more than what you’re meant to know? 

The flip side of these pacts are the real lesson of these readings:  the acceptance and recognition of our limitations. This recognition forms the substance of faithfulness, while its opposite wreaks havoc. Faithfulness acknowledges one’s debt to God, keeping one’s sin before one’s eyes, and resisting the seduction of being more than human. It’s a posture appropriate to everyone, including us.

Elsewhere, I’ve written about the gospel story of the bleeding woman (Luke 8:43-48), and I think she perfectly embodies the ideal of faithfulness present in this week’s readings, while also offering an entry-point for LGBTQ+ Catholics. 

Her posture is that of the psalmist whose voice today sings “Cast me not out from your presence, and your Holy Spirit take not from me.” 

Let that be our prayer for Lent. Let us abstain from thinking ourselves more or less limited than anyone else. Let us keep our sins before our eyes while recalling that the transgression is not like the gift. And let us remember that while Peter and his heirs are still content to lose us in the crowd,t Christ feels our little fingers on his hem. 

—Jeromiah Taylor, February 22, 2026