Which Crosses Should Queer Catholics Take Up?

Today’s reflection is from Jason Steidl Jack, a gay Catholic theologian and Assistant Teaching Professor of Religious Studies at St. Joseph’s University in New York. He is the author of  LGBTQ Catholic Ministry: Past and Present, published by Paulist Press.

Today’s liturgical readings for the Twenty-Second Sunday in Ordinary Time can be found here.

The other day I was channel surfing when I came upon a TV preacher who asked me and other viewers to “sow a seed of faith” by donating to his ministry. He promised copious blessings in return: good health, a long life, even a new house and car. I’d stumbled upon the prosperity gospel, a strain of Christianity that promises material comfort and blessing in exchange for obedience to God (or, at least, obedience to someone who claims to represent God). 

Unfortunately, relationship with the God of Israel isn’t such an easy tit-for-tat. Experience and scripture point in another direction entirely. Today’s  liturgical readings remind us that Christian discipleship is frequently perplexing and even painful. 

The Gospel reading from Matthew 16:21-27 comes shortly after the feeding of the 4,000. Jesus’ ministry was causing a stir and rumors were spreading that he was either a prophet or the messiah. His followers may have imagined their luck: if he succeeded, they would become the powerful and wealthy in God’s earthly kingdom. 

But that’s not the way it would play out. Instead, Jesus tells his disciples that he would be put to death in Jerusalem at the hands of religious leaders. No military coup. No overturning of the temporal order. No material reward for his followers. 

Consider the disciples’ reaction. “God forbid, Lord!” Peter rightfully recoils. “This must never happen to you.” Rather than reassuring Peter that everything will be ok, Jesus rebukes him by calling him “Satan” and says that God’s plan is beyond human comprehension.

At this point Jesus’ message becomes even more difficult for the disciples to accept. Not only is he going to die, but so will the disciples. Following Christ means self denial and picking up a cross, “for whoever wishes to save his life will lose it, but whoever loses his life for my sake will find it.” This death might be metaphorical, but that doesn’t make it any less real. As Dan Berrigan, SJ quipped, “If you want to follow Jesus, you better look good on wood.”

To be honest, I recoil like Peter after reading these texts. When given the choice, I always prefer no suffering to suffering. I also consider how today’s texts have been used against LGBTQ Catholics. I’ve heard church officials say that I should see my sexuality as a cross. To be like Christ, they claim, I must die to my desires and way of being in the world. As one who finds life and grace in my gay sexuality, this message is folly.  What other meanings can I take away?

First, I appreciate that our tradition is realistic. We are under no illusions that faith prevents suffering. If Jesus faced suffering, I should expect the same. When bad things happen it does not mean that God is punishing me. 

I find following God sometimes makes life more difficult. How many LGBTQ Catholics feel like they are on the margins of the church because of their sexuality/gender and on the margins of the LGBTQ community because of their Catholicism? It would be much easier to just walk away, and yet something propels us forward, which the prophet Jeremiah describes in today’s first reading as an unexplainable “burning” in our hearts to know God and be in relationship with God’s people. We cannot easily dismiss the message that God has given us to share– all people are made in God’s image, and God is at work where we least expect it, especially among the queer. 

Second, discipleship includes painful transformations that challenge us to grow. God calls us to radical conversion that re-shapes our inmost being. In the second reading, Paul describes this exacting process as a “living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God, your spiritual worship.” 

Queer people know this well. It may take decades of painful discernment to better know ourselves and God’s will for our lives. I think of my trans friends who have risked relationships with families and friends to come out. Many have undergone surgeries that come with weeks of recuperation so that their bodies better reflect their authentic identities. And yet, through it all, they find grace in pursuit of God’s plan for their life– what Paul describes in Romans 12:2 as the “good and pleasing and perfect.” 

Finally, as queer people, we recognize that seeking and questioning are the building blocks of belief. The moment we settle and become self-sufficient is the moment our faith and dependence on God dies. What does it mean to pick up our cross and deny ourselves? I’m convinced it means leaving behind what we thought we knew, which includes the plans we had for our lives.

Queer Christian discipleship leads us to discover parts of ourselves that we never knew before– beauty, creativity, solidarity, but it  also requires letting go of the comfortable status quo. In this sense, carrying our cross is real, but so is our hope for resurrection. We only find new life when we’ve left our old lives behind. We only discover new ways of relating to God, ourselves, and others when the old self becomes a distant memory. 

None of these transformations is easy. But once we follow Christ, we find that our old selves, now crucified, were not really alive at all. The authentic life God offers us is far more worthwhile than what we could have imagined before. May God give us grace to live into our new callings, embracing the cross and, with it, encountering the resurrected Christ.  

—Jason Steidl Jack, August 30, 2026