Enhanced Spirituality:
Reflections and writings authored by members of the NACEC
Fr. Joseph Goh
Pope Francic, LGBTO Catholics and the Incarmation: A Malaysian Muses
Originally published in Joseph Goh's blog
Posted by Joseph N. Goh ⋅ March 26, 2013 ⋅ 2 Comments Filed Under Incarnation, LGBT, Malaysia, Pope Francis, Roman Catholics Pope Francis, LGBTQ Catholics and the Incarnation: A Malaysian Muses
The Roman Catholic world held its breath until white smoke swirled its way heavenward, and Pope Francis emerged as its latest pontiff. Millions were elated that yet another leader had emerged in their midst, one who offered fresh hope for a church rocked with scandals. While many were starry-eyed as they cooed over how their shepherd was more inclined towards simple apartments and public transportation than his predecessors, Roman Catholic lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender and queer/questioning persons (LGBTQ) held their breath just a little longer. After all, as Archbishop Jorge Mario Bergoglio, Francis had used strong language against a bill that supported marriage equality in Argentina in 2010:
“Let’s not be naive, we’re not talking about a simple political battle; it is a destructive pretension against the plan of God. We are not talking about a mere bill, but rather a machination of the Father of Lies that seeks to confuse and deceive the children of God.”
The ferocity of the statement grips me, as does the diabolical representation with which LGBTQ persons are presented, and the warlike approach which the former Archbishop of Buenos Aires advocated in addressing the issue. What proves to be even more insulting is the suggestion that LGBTQ persons are misguided but purposeful pawns of the devil whose connections with God crumble in utter misery in light of their sexual identities and consequent actions and decisions. One tends to wonder how far Francis will officially incorporate such intense sentiments into his papacy. Moreover, the dynamics of power and obedience in the Roman Catholic structure are such that whatever stance the new Bishop of Rome adopts, it will in all likelihood produce unwavering support and adherence on the part of Malaysian Roman Catholic clergy and laity. In reflecting on the latest incarnation of Roman Catholic leadership in a globalised world and its repercussions on my country, my thoughts also turn to a dogma that is less celebrated than Christmas and Easter, yet without which these festivals amount to very little significance: the Incarnation. This dogma professes the inseparability of the divinity and humanity of Jesus Christ, which in the scriptures is pronounced as having occurred in the womb of the Virgin Mary through the power of the Holy Spirit and in accordance with the will of God. The Incarnation is ordinarily referred to as the Annunciation and appears in the Roman Catholic calendar on March 25, exactly nine months before the feast of the birth of Christ.
The Incarnation continues to mystify and gratify my sense of God but not for reasons one would expect. The whole idea of God becoming a human being in the person of Jesus Christ has ceased to become what in the past was a former slavish, unquestioned and underdeveloped belief on my part in the existence of an omniscient human person capable of performing supernatural feats and offering salvation from sin. Instead, today I ask: How can this belief of “true God and true Man” that often lies so far beyond the grasp of actual human comprehension effectively resonate with lives it is supposed to inspire? How does this belief which was so important to secure the moral and political authority of the Councils of Nicea, Ephesus and Chalcedon of the Roman Catholic church in the fourth and fifth centuries have any bearing on modern day Roman Catholics, including Roman Catholic LGBTQ persons, if it exists merely for the sake of preserving what is perceived as precious patrimony? Moreover, this article of faith which has irrevocably claimed that the divine has touched human flesh is itself interrogated when it considers non-heteronormative sexual subjectivities. What do I mean? To identify LGBTQ persons as persons who engage in deviant activity not only reduces such persons to their genital expressions. It unfurls the quandary that the Creator is responsible for the same flesh that clad both Christ as well as those who engage in acts that are intrinsically disordered and which constitute grave depravity (Catechism of the Catholic Church, 2357). To argue that such persons choose to be such due to exterior influences, or for the sake of rebelliousness without a cause, or that they need to be saved from their wayward ways is to turn a deaf ear to innumerable testimonies of LGBTQ Catholics who attribute their inherent inclinations to that very same Creator, who are grateful for the gift of their fleshy personhoods, and who refuse to be who they are not despite the multiple forms of rejection and discrimination they experience.
I continue to ask how the Incarnation can be more relevant in the lives of LGBTQ Roman Catholics of today. I believe that Christ is the incarnate Son of God, but very much in the same way as is every individual on earth – every person, like Christ, bears the potential to disclose something of God. I would argue theologically that the Incarnation is a clear reminder of the intimacy between God and human persons, an interminable revelation of God, an erotic drive on the part of God towards human persons that is driven by the overflowing love from the heart of God right up to this day. Just as I believe that God spoke in the person of Jesus Christ two thousand years ago, God continues to speak today, not only through those whom we extol such as Pope Francis, clergypersons or vowed religious, but in the ordinariness of embodied beings, in their blood, tears, sweat, miseries and joys, and in sexual identities and expressions which may defy dominant cultural expectations. To believe that the ultimacy and fullness of God’s speech lies exclusively within the ranks of a chosen few is to believe that God has stopped speaking and revealing Godself. To label those who do not fall within easy categories of gender and sexuality as confused and deluded victims of the devil is to silence whatever God may be trying to say through such persons. Perhaps the “machination of the Father of lies” is not the existence of LGBTQ persons, but short-sighted doctrinal declarations which have been erected not to build up and enrich lives, but to protect the power-led interests of an oligarchic few who fear that the God who lies beyond their safe cordons may not be the God they have constructed. The Incarnation, as I see it, can unleash a powerful force for the empowerment of lives – particularly lives of Malaysian and global LGBTQ Roman Catholics – but only if those who have been given the power to spiritually legislate are themselves prepared to pay attention to the words and lives of those whose sexualities lie at the margins, and if their own hearts are prepared to accept the reality that God’s revelation has not ended, but perhaps found new forms to let itself be heard.
© Joseph N. Goh
The Roman Catholic world held its breath until white smoke swirled its way heavenward, and Pope Francis emerged as its latest pontiff. Millions were elated that yet another leader had emerged in their midst, one who offered fresh hope for a church rocked with scandals. While many were starry-eyed as they cooed over how their shepherd was more inclined towards simple apartments and public transportation than his predecessors, Roman Catholic lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender and queer/questioning persons (LGBTQ) held their breath just a little longer. After all, as Archbishop Jorge Mario Bergoglio, Francis had used strong language against a bill that supported marriage equality in Argentina in 2010:
“Let’s not be naive, we’re not talking about a simple political battle; it is a destructive pretension against the plan of God. We are not talking about a mere bill, but rather a machination of the Father of Lies that seeks to confuse and deceive the children of God.”
The ferocity of the statement grips me, as does the diabolical representation with which LGBTQ persons are presented, and the warlike approach which the former Archbishop of Buenos Aires advocated in addressing the issue. What proves to be even more insulting is the suggestion that LGBTQ persons are misguided but purposeful pawns of the devil whose connections with God crumble in utter misery in light of their sexual identities and consequent actions and decisions. One tends to wonder how far Francis will officially incorporate such intense sentiments into his papacy. Moreover, the dynamics of power and obedience in the Roman Catholic structure are such that whatever stance the new Bishop of Rome adopts, it will in all likelihood produce unwavering support and adherence on the part of Malaysian Roman Catholic clergy and laity. In reflecting on the latest incarnation of Roman Catholic leadership in a globalised world and its repercussions on my country, my thoughts also turn to a dogma that is less celebrated than Christmas and Easter, yet without which these festivals amount to very little significance: the Incarnation. This dogma professes the inseparability of the divinity and humanity of Jesus Christ, which in the scriptures is pronounced as having occurred in the womb of the Virgin Mary through the power of the Holy Spirit and in accordance with the will of God. The Incarnation is ordinarily referred to as the Annunciation and appears in the Roman Catholic calendar on March 25, exactly nine months before the feast of the birth of Christ.
The Incarnation continues to mystify and gratify my sense of God but not for reasons one would expect. The whole idea of God becoming a human being in the person of Jesus Christ has ceased to become what in the past was a former slavish, unquestioned and underdeveloped belief on my part in the existence of an omniscient human person capable of performing supernatural feats and offering salvation from sin. Instead, today I ask: How can this belief of “true God and true Man” that often lies so far beyond the grasp of actual human comprehension effectively resonate with lives it is supposed to inspire? How does this belief which was so important to secure the moral and political authority of the Councils of Nicea, Ephesus and Chalcedon of the Roman Catholic church in the fourth and fifth centuries have any bearing on modern day Roman Catholics, including Roman Catholic LGBTQ persons, if it exists merely for the sake of preserving what is perceived as precious patrimony? Moreover, this article of faith which has irrevocably claimed that the divine has touched human flesh is itself interrogated when it considers non-heteronormative sexual subjectivities. What do I mean? To identify LGBTQ persons as persons who engage in deviant activity not only reduces such persons to their genital expressions. It unfurls the quandary that the Creator is responsible for the same flesh that clad both Christ as well as those who engage in acts that are intrinsically disordered and which constitute grave depravity (Catechism of the Catholic Church, 2357). To argue that such persons choose to be such due to exterior influences, or for the sake of rebelliousness without a cause, or that they need to be saved from their wayward ways is to turn a deaf ear to innumerable testimonies of LGBTQ Catholics who attribute their inherent inclinations to that very same Creator, who are grateful for the gift of their fleshy personhoods, and who refuse to be who they are not despite the multiple forms of rejection and discrimination they experience.
I continue to ask how the Incarnation can be more relevant in the lives of LGBTQ Roman Catholics of today. I believe that Christ is the incarnate Son of God, but very much in the same way as is every individual on earth – every person, like Christ, bears the potential to disclose something of God. I would argue theologically that the Incarnation is a clear reminder of the intimacy between God and human persons, an interminable revelation of God, an erotic drive on the part of God towards human persons that is driven by the overflowing love from the heart of God right up to this day. Just as I believe that God spoke in the person of Jesus Christ two thousand years ago, God continues to speak today, not only through those whom we extol such as Pope Francis, clergypersons or vowed religious, but in the ordinariness of embodied beings, in their blood, tears, sweat, miseries and joys, and in sexual identities and expressions which may defy dominant cultural expectations. To believe that the ultimacy and fullness of God’s speech lies exclusively within the ranks of a chosen few is to believe that God has stopped speaking and revealing Godself. To label those who do not fall within easy categories of gender and sexuality as confused and deluded victims of the devil is to silence whatever God may be trying to say through such persons. Perhaps the “machination of the Father of lies” is not the existence of LGBTQ persons, but short-sighted doctrinal declarations which have been erected not to build up and enrich lives, but to protect the power-led interests of an oligarchic few who fear that the God who lies beyond their safe cordons may not be the God they have constructed. The Incarnation, as I see it, can unleash a powerful force for the empowerment of lives – particularly lives of Malaysian and global LGBTQ Roman Catholics – but only if those who have been given the power to spiritually legislate are themselves prepared to pay attention to the words and lives of those whose sexualities lie at the margins, and if their own hearts are prepared to accept the reality that God’s revelation has not ended, but perhaps found new forms to let itself be heard.
© Joseph N. Goh
HOLIDAY REFLECTION November 23, 2017
By Msgr. R. Scott Burris
On December 24th, 1944 around the time of midnight, Allied and Axis Forces faced each other across a battlefield in Europe. Fighting had been fierce with artillery and air support. Being that far north, night had come early and with it a growing silence. Rifles stopped shooting. Shells stopped whistling overhead, bombs stopped falling. And by the time midnight rolled around, both sides were completely silent. Despite the need for sound integrity on a night when the air was so crisp that sound could travel across dozens if not hundreds of miles, and could be accurately triangulated to its position of origin, a soldier broke out a harmonica, and began to play. Instead of being "shushed" by his fellow soldiers, he was allowed to continue. Instead of being shot at by the enemy, he was allowed to continue. His music grew louder and more bold. Voices began to join the whine of the harmonic sound, From both sides, soldiers recognized this as a miracle and began to sing, each in his own language:
"Silent night. Holy night. All is calm. All is bright. Round yon virgin mother and child. Holy so infant so tender and mild. Sleep in heavenly peace! Sleep in heavenly peace."
At that miraculous moment. in the concluding days of World War II, in that place of battle, there were no Catholics vs Protestants. There were no Jews vs Christians vs Muslims. There were no Atheists. No one got upset about the words of the song not representing THEIR particular belief or lack of belief. Germans, singing with French, singing with British, singing with Italians, singing with Dutch, singing with Americans in that Western Front battle field, all sang with one voice that night.
A fellow human being smiles as they approach you and extends a hand, or starts a bow, their greeting is extended and the intention of "Peace" and "Welcome" is being communicated even before they speak, yet they go the extra step and offer a verbal greeting, "Happy Holidays!". It is at moments like these when we can put aside our differences and accept the spirit behind the greeting. No matter which verbal greeting has just been smiled and extended to us, we can respond with our own gracious reply, and allow the season to remain a Silent night where all is calm and bright.
Happy Thanksgiving Marines! and have a Happy New Year!
By Msgr. R. Scott Burris
On December 24th, 1944 around the time of midnight, Allied and Axis Forces faced each other across a battlefield in Europe. Fighting had been fierce with artillery and air support. Being that far north, night had come early and with it a growing silence. Rifles stopped shooting. Shells stopped whistling overhead, bombs stopped falling. And by the time midnight rolled around, both sides were completely silent. Despite the need for sound integrity on a night when the air was so crisp that sound could travel across dozens if not hundreds of miles, and could be accurately triangulated to its position of origin, a soldier broke out a harmonica, and began to play. Instead of being "shushed" by his fellow soldiers, he was allowed to continue. Instead of being shot at by the enemy, he was allowed to continue. His music grew louder and more bold. Voices began to join the whine of the harmonic sound, From both sides, soldiers recognized this as a miracle and began to sing, each in his own language:
"Silent night. Holy night. All is calm. All is bright. Round yon virgin mother and child. Holy so infant so tender and mild. Sleep in heavenly peace! Sleep in heavenly peace."
At that miraculous moment. in the concluding days of World War II, in that place of battle, there were no Catholics vs Protestants. There were no Jews vs Christians vs Muslims. There were no Atheists. No one got upset about the words of the song not representing THEIR particular belief or lack of belief. Germans, singing with French, singing with British, singing with Italians, singing with Dutch, singing with Americans in that Western Front battle field, all sang with one voice that night.
A fellow human being smiles as they approach you and extends a hand, or starts a bow, their greeting is extended and the intention of "Peace" and "Welcome" is being communicated even before they speak, yet they go the extra step and offer a verbal greeting, "Happy Holidays!". It is at moments like these when we can put aside our differences and accept the spirit behind the greeting. No matter which verbal greeting has just been smiled and extended to us, we can respond with our own gracious reply, and allow the season to remain a Silent night where all is calm and bright.
Happy Thanksgiving Marines! and have a Happy New Year!