Other Sheep

The following is an expanded version of the sermon I gave at the end of the “Welcome One Another Fellowship Retreat”," anually offered by the newly named Team on LGBT Inclusion of the New England Synod of the Evangelical Lutheran Church of North America.

CP

Walker Center, Newton, Massachusetts

Good Shepherd Sunday, April 29, 2012

Other Sheep

I want to thank you for the privilege of being with you this weekend, of sharing some of my thoughts on the full incorporation of transgender people into the life of the church—on the implications of that incorporation not only for trans people but also for the church as a whole.  I’ve shared several stories that have taken place at the borders of the church, some even at the borders of retreat circles much like the one in which we’ve been gathered this weekend.  These moments have pointed toward a certain paradox that being a trans person in the life of the church has caused me to notice.  On the one hand, the margins of church and world can be tenuous, sometimes dangerous spaces.  On the other hand, in some ways these borders can be strangely holy, spaces in which God’s transforming presence can be palpable.  This paradox prompts me to think about a broader question: how can the church rediscover its vocation at the margins, to not simply “do charity” there but to reclaim its mission there—to combat pernicious patterns of “othering” wherever it may happen while claiming a certain “other” orientation as a feature of its own life?

In our gospel passage, Jesus speaks of the existence of “other sheep,” sheep that as of yet “do not belong to this fold.”  The Good Shepherd declares, “I must bring them also, and they will listen to my voice” (John 10:16).  In a number of ways, we have explored how trans people have been in a sense “other sheep”-- other to or “other-ed” by church and by world.  We have pondered and prayed about how trans “others” might be drawn more freely and fully into the life of the church, how the gifts of trans people might be honored for all that they can and already do contribute.  Along the way we celebrated the breaking good news of TransLutherans, an affinity group within Lutherans Concerned/North America, formed “to broaden our advocacy for more widespread and effective transgender welcome and inclusion in the Church, as well as for advancing the work of seeking justice for all transgender people."  These conversations opened up further dimensions of becoming “one flock.” 

In fact, our churches have been on this journey of discovery for some time now.  One particularly powerful voice in this process from my own denomination is the late Reverend Paul Washington (whose obituary can be found here), rector of Philadelphia’s Church of the Advocate from 1962-1987.  He spoke of his ministry as one of outreach to and uplift of “other sheep”– indeed, his 1994 autobiography is entitled Other Sheep I Have.  As an exhibit on the Episcopal Church Archives website puts it, Washington’s “church became a beacon of liberation for those [he] referred to as the ‘other sheep’: blacks, the poor, the dispossessed, the oppressed, women, and gays.”  In 1964 Washington’s parish hosted the first National Black Power Convention; in 1970 it hosted the National Convention of the Black Panthers Party; and in 1974 it hosted the ordination of the “the Philadelphia Eleven,” the first women to become priests in The Episcopal Church.  Washington was also the mentor of Barbara Clementine Harris who in 1989 became a Suffragan (or assistant) Bishop in my diocese, the Episcopal Diocese of Massachusetts, becoming in the process the first woman bishop in the Anglican Communion, and very much an advocate of “other sheep” in her own right.

The ministries of Rev. Washington and Bishop Harris, of groups like LCNA and IntegrityUSA, TransLutherans and TransEpiscopal, point to the various, unfolding ways in which our churches engage this process.  They also suggest that there will not come a day– not in this life – when the incorporation of the “other” into the “one flock” will be over and done with, a day in which we can all sigh with relief and sit back in our chairs, knowing that we -- a “we” of the “one flock”-- have checked off every box.  I further do not believe there is any way to circumvent or transcend this process— we cannot jump to “all” language without grappling with specific instances of “othering” along the way.  It is an ongoing, sometimes disruptive process, the kind of realized-eschatological birth to which Rev. Washington referred when he introduced the opening hymn of the Philadelphia ordinations, “Come, Labor On”:  “what is one to do when the democratic process, the political dynamics, and the legal guidelines are out of step with the Divine Imperative which says ‘Now is the time?’” (quoted in Carter Heyward’s A Priest Forever, 86; summarized in Alla Bozarth Campbell’s Womanpriest, 129-130)

Thus one question our conversations this weekend have circled around is how to imagine, how to conceive theologically of our growth into “one flock,” how to see our undoing of “othering” as integral to that growth.  Neither Episcopalians nor Lutherans tend to think of ourselves as the “one true church.”  It isn’t simply that our denominations are in full communion with one another (which we have been since 2001 see this article).  It is that our growth within the body of Christ is accomplished by God, not by us.  If I may presume to “speak Lutheran,” grace finally does the job, not “works.”  But, if I may presume to “speak Anglican,” we also participate in that divine process.  And, to crib Paul, that process is eschatological—we are “changed from glory into glory” (to quote Wesley, speaking Paul!) in a way that lodges us in the already and the not yet.  In other words, we Christians are called to strive toward holy connection – with God and with one another-- even as we trust that God will bring this work to completion.  Crucial to our striving, here and now, is identifying, naming those of us who have been and are being “othered” in the life of the church and of the world.  We are called to help make audible the voice of the Good Shepherd both to the “othered” and the “othering,” that the power of alienation might be undermined.

And if there is any doubt how important this undoing work is, we need only point to a horrific event that took place across the country during our retreat:  a transgender woman, a woman of color, named Brandy Martell, was murdered in Oakland, California on Saturday night in a crime that community members suspect was motivated by hate.

As we strive to help undo such devastating dehumanization, as we seek to amplify the voice of the Good Shepherd, we would do well to take up afresh Jesus’ own marginal ministry.  And in so doing we might also remember the marginality of the church, it own “otherness” in its earliest days.  One of the oldest images we have of the crucifixion is the so-called “Alexemenos graffito.”  Etched into a wall near the Palatine Hill in Rome, a human figure with a donkey head on a cross, flanked by an apparently worshipping figure, is inscribed “Alexander worships his God.”  The notion that a people could worship as God one who was degraded by death on a cross was ridiculous in a Roman imperial context in which an effective Messiah would, after all, come along and with great might overturn the powers that be. 

This ancient insight takes us to the very heart of the power of the cross.  This image conveys how good news can be a skandalon, a stumbling block, foolishness (1 Cor 1:23)—sheer madness to one who expects a straight-forward story of overturning one sort of power with a yet greater form of it.  But we preach Christ crucified and risen, the power of One who poured himself into our midst, became in a sense an emblem of stigma, became other in order to transform otherness into belonging, to draw us into this pattern of metamorphosis and make us its agents.  As we take up that agency, we must remember from whence we came, must remember our otherness – ancient and contemporary – and in so remembering rediscover our border location as Christians.  For we are a people living in the already and the not yet, a people in the world and yet not wholly of it, a people with an ancient propensity for turning the world upside down.

This is a journey that does not end in this life.  It ends at the feet of the God who made us, the one around whom we sing and dance together in eternity.  But between now and then—in this space-time of already and not yet-- we remember and live into this ancient identity, indeed this baptismal mission.  We remember the process of our incorporation into the wider flock, we remember that we are “Other Sheep,” a people oriented to the margin, inviting “other others” into this holy terrain, this sacred journey.

This is the peculiar challenge and privilege of our ministry.  Amen.

Trans Episcopalian Stands Up Against North Carolina's Amendment One

In North Carolina a fierce battle is unfolding over the fate of Amendment One which would a) amend the state's constitution to define marriage as between a man and a woman and b) end the legal recognition of domestic partnerships (same or opposite sex) curently on the books in some cities and counties.  Two days ago, the bishops of North Carolina -- The Rt. Rev. Michael B. Curry, Diocese of North Carolina; the Rt. Rev. Clifton Daniel, III, Diocese of East Carolina; and the Rt. Rev. G. Porter Taylor, Diocese of Western North Carolin --released a joint letter opposing Amendment One.  Their statement (which can be found here) read in part,

“We oppose Amendment One because the love of God and the way of love that has been revealed in Jesus of Nazareth compels us to do so. We oppose Amendment One because every time we baptize someone in The Episcopal Church, the entire congregation vows to ‘strive for justice and peace among all people, and respect the dignity of every human being.’* We oppose Amendment One because it is unjust and it does not respect the dignity of every human being in the State of North Carolina."

Yesterday, the Chapel Hilll News added the voice of another Episcopalian to the debate.  Viviane Taylor (writing under her current legal name, Sam) is a graduate of UNC, a recent Boston transplant from North Carolina, a writer,  and an Iraq War veteran who has come out as transgender.  Viviane (whose transition is reported ina two-part article -- here and here) has had  a column in the Chapel Hill News since her deployment.  In yesterday's piece, she comes out strongly against Amendment One.


Published: Apr 24, 2012 07:00 PM
Modified: Apr 24, 2012 06:49 PM

Let’s talk about ‘The Law’


BY SAM TAYLOR

North Carolinians are better than Amendment One. But I get it, there are a lot of Christians in my beautiful home state. There are a lot of people who put following the will of the Lord above all other things.
So let’s talk about God.

God is famous for, among a few other things, giving man The Law. Now folks today sure do like to hunt and peck with the Law, pick things they like and drop things they don’t.

If this thing The Law is going to be so important to people, well, we might as well give some small amount of energy to trying to understand what The Law is, what The Law means.

The Law is mainly found in the first five books of the Hebrew Bible. Folks like some of those five books. Genesis? Everyone knows Genesis, most have number some sort of fight over it. Exodus? It’s the model for every revolutionary group, whether it be America taking our independence from Britain or the folks of African descent fighting their way out of slavery, or hey, even gay and trans folks like me. And Leviticus and Deuteronomy? Some one is always trying to whip out that big old rule book to pop somebody else over the head.

But I’m going to direct you to everybody’s least favorite book of the Pentateuch, of the whole Bible even. The Book of Numbers. I know folks who have spent their entire lives studying the scriptures who avoid Numbers. Why? Because it can be powerfully, powerfully boring. It seems like nothing but W begot X begot Y begot Z begot and so and so on, right?

Turns out, No. There’s a story I want to point you to in Numbers chapter 27, verses 1 through 11. It’s a story about five women demanding their Rights.

Story goes that there was a man named Zelophehad who had five daughters, Mahlah, Noah, Hoglah, Milcah and Tirzah and no sons. He died. The Law of Moses, the Law of God said that his property was to go to his nearest male relative. His daughters were to get nothing. Nothing.

The daughters saw how unjust that was. They went before Moses, Eleazar the priest, the leaders, and all the congregation and they told them that The Law was unjust, that they deserved their inheritance. Why should their family lose everything just because of the lack of a male to inherit it?

What happens? Does one of the leaders call them greedy? Or immoral? Or uppity? No, Moses takes their case to God. And God takes up for them. The Lord says, Those women are right. And The Law gets changed.

You see, The Law isn’t right because it’s The Law. The Law is only right so long as it is just. If The Law is being used to defend injustice, The Law is wrong and God wants it changed.

The man I believe is the Messiah, Jesus of Nazareth is recorded saying when someone asked him which was the most important commandment “You shall love the Lord you God with your whole heart, soul, and mind. This is the greatest and first commandment. And a second like the first, ’You shall love your neighbor as yourself.’ On these two commandments hang all the law and the prophets.”

Amendment One doesn’t work with the commandments Jesus gave us. It just exists to harm folks who aren’t hurting anyone, who are just living their lives as well as they can, just like everyone else.

I’m asking you to love your neighbor as yourself and vote against carving needless discrimination against your neighbor into our state’s constitution.

Sam Taylor served as a chaplain’s assistant in Iraq and is a graduate of UNC-Chapel Hill.http://www.chapelhillnews.com/2012/04/24/71062/lets-talk-about-the-law.html

Transgender and Episcopal, in the Military Part II

The first part of this two-part article about Sam Taylor of the Episcopal Diocese of Massachusetts (previously of North Carolina) was posted in early March.  Part two follows below.

Transgender ex-soldier finds a ‘far greater sense of peace’

Chapel Hill News, March 10, 2012

BY TAMMY GRUBB, CORRESPONDENT
CHAPEL HILL - Second of two parts


On the road from rural North Carolina to the Boston suburbs, Sam Taylor has worn the shoes of a native son, student, soldier, and now, a young woman and religious leader.


“In some ways, I don’t see it as much of a change [but] as a continuation,” said Taylor, who is a transgender woman.
That’s not to say the road has been easy.



Growing up in a conservative Southern Baptist community didn’t allow much self-expression, Taylor said. Most of her family and friends didn’t learn she planned to come out until she returned with the 1-130th Attack Reconnaissance Battalion from a tour of duty in Iraq.


“If my dad had asked, I would have told him,” she said. “I’ll admit I was really nervous, not because my dad is in any way a mean person or a bad person, but I’ve just known so many people whose families have just absolutely rejected them when they came out.”
Most people have been supportive. A few have said her decision was wrong, or started acting differently around her.


Taylor was living as a man in 2008 when she met Becky Smith. The Massachusetts Water Program coordinator for the nonprofit group Clean Water Action, Smith was Taylor’s mentor during a nine-month internship with the Micah Project, an Episcopal service mission for social and structural justice issues. They soon became best friends.

Smith said Taylor – a “sister of my heart”– was courageous in coming out.

“I was really pleased that I had a friend who trusted me enough to be honest and trusted that I was a caring and thoughtful enough friend to be able to hold that information and still be the same friend that I was before I knew that,” Smith said.


Sgt. Jason Kalarchik, who served with Taylor in Iraq, said he feels the same way.
“I grew up in Montana, and I couldn’t imagine. I try to put myself in his situation, and I just can’t even … [the response] would be violent, I think,” Kalarchik said. “He’s got nothing to be afraid of from me. I’m still his buddy. He can call me anytime.”


Taylor’s circle of support continues to grow at St. Paul’s Episcopal Church in the Brookline suburb of Boston. She will talk with her priest later this year about seeking ordination with the Diocese of Massachusetts and, if he agrees, begin a two-year discernment process. This is the time when candidates reflect on whether to be a priest and talk about their plans with the parish priest, the parish’s governing body and diocesan officials. The process continues with up to three years at seminary before the candidate is ordained a deacon and, eventually, a priest.


In Boston, Taylor also found a mentor in Cameron Partridge, an openly transgender Episcopal chaplain at Boston University and a lecturer in Harvard University’s Divinity School and the department of women, gender and sexuality.

Partridge transitioned [from female to male] in 2002 and was ordained in 2005. He remembers struggling with a sense of isolation, but Partridge said he found a lifeline in the Episcopalian and Anglican group, TransEpiscopal.

When they met, Partridge said Taylor was struggling with her call to the ministry, her transgender identity and her military duty. They stayed in touch, and Partridge’s congregation read the newspaper columns from Iraq and prayed for Taylor. They were grateful when she came back safely, he said.

“She managed to do it with characteristic authenticity, integrity, honor and unique boldness,” Partridge said.

Some Christians say the Bible and literary history support transgender identity. Taylor pointed to the Ethiopian eunuch who accepts Christ in the eighth chapter of the book of Acts, becoming the first non-Jewish Christian, and to the male daughters mentioned in the Hammurabi code.

Partridge said the growing number of transgender young adults in the church is “a sign of the new realities emerging.”

“Not simply of the growing acceptance of trans people,” he said, “but of the growing presence of thoughtful, critically engaged young adults – indeed, people of all ages – who refuse to be boxed into neat and tidy categories.”

Others say transgender lifestyles are contrary to biblical precepts.

Chaplain Kevin Winemiller is a 14-year Army veteran who now serves part time as a brigadier chaplain with the 60th Troop Command of the N.C. National Guard, based in Raleigh. While serving in Iraq, Winemiller said he never suspected Taylor, his chaplain’s assistant, was a transgender person. He found out when Taylor emailed him in February.

Winemiller said Taylor will always be his friend, but his opinion is that being transgender is against nature and can promote homosexuality as described in Romans 1 and Leviticus 18.

“Of course, I’m a little sad for him,” Winemiller said. “I think he’s searching and may be confused, but he has to know that I’m his friend, and I’ll go the distance for him. I’m not going to speak bad about him.”

Being honest about her gender has given her “a far greater sense of peace” and led to better personal relationships, Taylor said.

“If I had tried to go into family life as broken, dishonest, desperately trying to hide basic facts about myself from those that loved me most, I can’t even imagine how much of a mess that would have been, how much pain my decision not to be right in the world could have caused my loved ones,” Taylor said.

After nearly three years of hormone injections, Taylor is not considering gender reassignment surgery yet, because the idea of any surgery makes her uncomfortable, she said. She does acknowledge, however, that “physical rightness is incredibly important to a lot of people.”

Taylor spends her time writing books and playing an acoustic guitar she bought in Iraq. She works out every day – an Army habit, she said.

One day, she would like to see a “herd of little Taylors running around and being too smart for their own good,” although the idea of children is a little terrifying right now.

She remembers her dad reading stories from the Bible and Greek mythology every night at bedtime.

She wants to do that with her own children, Taylor said, “to show them the beauty and wonder and excitement of the world as I sometimes see it, and then learn what they find there, too.”

Donations for General Convention 2012

 Three years ago, a small band of transgender Episcopalians and our allies made unprecedented progress at The Episcopal Church’s General Convention.  Against major odds, and with the help of our partner organizations, we won The Episcopal Church’s support in three areas:

 1)  secular anti-discrimination legislation at the federal, state and local levels (D012 & C048)

2)   ecclesial non-discrimination in lay hiring (D032)

3)   adoption of more transgender-friendly forms (D090)

 There was one resolution on which we fell just shy, however: the prohibition of discrimination against transgender people in access to the ordination process (C061). 

 As General Convention 2012 approaches in less than three months, a new version of that resolution has been filed:  D002.  Building on our groundbreaking success in 2009, TransEpiscopal is planning a stronger presence at convention this year, with a larger delegation, more varied and persuasive educational materials, and better preparation and coordination with our allies, The Consultation, Integrity-USA and The Chicago Consultation.

 Preparations are well under way. Working with our partners in Integrity, we’ve helped generate “Voices of Witness 3: Out of the Box” – a video and study guide which puts the "T" in LGBT.  Copies of “Out of the Box” will be given to all bishops and deputies to educate them to vote for resolutions coming forward for transgender equality.

 Knowing what a major difference our presence on the ground made at General Convention three years ago, we can’t wait to go back.  But in order to do that, TransEpiscopal needs your help.  We need to pay for our exhibit space, and educational materials, to cover travel and lodging for some of our members who otherwise won’t be able to join our effort in Indianapolis. In 2009 we raised several thousand dollars to help send an eight-person delegation to convention; this year, we hope to roughly double those numbers.

 A gift of $50, $100, $250 or $500 or any amount will make a crucial difference in our capacity to change hearts and minds this summer.

 If you contributed to our effort three years ago, we thank you and hope that you can help us move our work forward. If you are new to TransEpiscopal and its efforts, we would love to have you stand with us in expanding the borders of the body of Christ.

 Please give as generously as you possibly can.  To make your contribution online, simply click the “Donate” tab to your left on the web site.  Alternately, you can mail a check made out to our fiscal sponsor, Integrity USA -- just be sure to put TransEpiscopal in the memo line, then mail to:

               IntegrityUSA, 838 East High St. #291, Lexington, KY 40502.

Thank you again for your support, follow our progress online at our website or our Facebook page, and most of all, please keep us in your prayers.

This blog post will remain available on the Donations Tab of this site until after General Convention.

A New Deacon's Good Friday

This story (linked here) about The Reverend Deacon Carolyn Woodall appeared yesterday on the Sacramento CBS channel.  Reverend Woodall was ordained just about a month ago in a service in Stockton California, the Episcopal Diocese of San Joaquin.  The ordination was filmed by a crew for IntegrityUSA which is finishing a video on Transgender Episcopalians called "Out of the Box"-- stay tuned for it's emergence in the next month or so.  On this Holy Saturday, we give thanks for all manner of signs of the power of resurrection that burst forth from the tomb.

CP

JAMESTOWN (CBS13) - This story is extremely rare. In fact, there are only a handful of Episcopalian clergy members that are transgendered in the world.

Reverend Carolyn Woodall’s story, the deacon at Jamestown Church, began one dark night when she contemplated taking her life.

In the Spring season, the season of new life, Woodall has her own story of resurrection.

“God made me male on the outside, but female in my soul,” said Woodall.

Woodall, then named Clifford, came to that realization one night back in 2003, and felt she was left with two options.

“Quit living my life as a lie, and become who I was, which is Carolyn, which is who you see now, or just quit living,” said Woodall.

Carolyn made it through the night, and sought help.

After years of therapy, doctor appointments, and finally, gender reassignment surgery. Her relationship with God grew stronger.

“God sent his son into the world to save everyone, there aren’t asterisks in scripture,” said Woodall.

Carolyn’s love of God has brought her to this point. She continues to work as a public defender in Tuolumne County, and last month was ordained as a deacon in the Episcopalian church.

“I admire her for having the strength to go through what it cost her, especially living in a very conservative area,” said parishioner Betty Cordoza.

Carolyn has been called names and knows there are plenty who object to her choosing to live as a woman. But she says finally, she feels comfortable in her own skin. Almost reborn, as she helps lead her first Good Friday service, as reverend Carolyn Woodall.

“No one is outside of God’s love. Jesus ministered to the outcasts, to the people on the periphery,” said Woodall.

Woodall tells us she went on TV today to tell her story, because there are plenty of lessons of tolerance to be learned about her life.

Making "all" mean "all" in the Diocese of San Joaquin

A post by Louise Brooks, cross-posted from the Walking with Integrity Blog

Carolyn Louise Woodall got ordained last Saturday to the Sacred Order of Deacons in the Episcopal Diocese of San Joaquin -- smack dab in the middle of California's conservative Central Valley. There was no fanfare, there were no media and there were no protesters. I was there with a film crew to document the event for Integrity’s VOICES OF WITNESS project entitled "Out Of The Box" -- celebrating the lives and witness of transgender Episcopalians.

 As the service began we had our cameras ready when the Bishop asked "... if any of you know any impediment or crime because of which we should not proceed, come forward now, and make it known." We were ready … but no one came forward. It was the people's will that Carolyn be ordained and it was their will to uphold her in her ministry – and they said so, loud and clear. On the surface this was your typical ordinary ordination … but truth be told it was anything but.

As I sat in the tiny church watching this ordinary/extraordinary ordination unfold, I remembered my last trip to the Diocese of San Joaquin. It was five years ago – just after the then-sitting Bishop Schofield tried to take the diocese out of the Episcopal Church and become the Anglican Diocese of San Joaquin: a schismatic response to the ordination of Bishop Gene Robinson and the blessing of same sex unions.

 Bishop Schofield – arguably one of the most reactionary bishops in the Episcopal Church – would not ordain women to the priesthood and would not give communion to gay persons. People joked that he was more catholic than the Catholics – and when he became a bishop he added the name John to his birth-name David becoming Bishop John-David.

Four of us, LGBT leaders from the Diocese of Los Angeles, traveled the long Central Valley highway lined with citrus trees, table grapes, raisins, almond groves and other visually interesting crops, to meet with the Remain Episcopal team. They were the folks who stayed. And that day this faithful remnant of Episcopalians described to us the goals they had set for San Joaquin: to rebuild the diocese, to ordain women, to welcome and include all the strangers at the gate. And as I sat there in the pew in St. Anne’s, Stockton at the ordination of Carolyn Louise Woodall, I was aware that they have come a long way in those five years. A very long way.

Carolyn Louise Woodall was born Clifford Lawson Woodall. She was born out of the box. "I had known I was different since I was four or five years old, I just didn’t figure out the extent of my differences until much later in life. It isn’t as if there weren’t clues, it was just that I had gotten very good at denial. I never even heard the word “transsexual” until college, and then I had a passing thought that it might apply to me, but quickly buried that thought. As time went on, however, the thought that I might be transsexual kept resurfacing and I continued to bury it as best I could."

But she couldn't bury it forever. "I could learn to live with it, start living as a woman, and move on with life or, I could kill myself. I decided on suicide that night. I sat there convinced of a couple of things. One was that I was an abomination before God. God made me male at birth and I would be unfaithful to God by changing that. Additionally, this was wrong. So was suicide, but that night I prayed that God would consider suicide the lesser sin and forgive me for what I was about to do. I had a gun in the dresser right behind me and it would be quick and easy.

Fate intervened and Carolyn was relieved." I quickly realized that I had been looking for a reason not to go through with it and was very glad I had found one."

Carolyn Woodall always loved the church. She sang in choirs from a young age and felt a call to ministry as early as she can remember. She entered the discernment process as a transgendered woman and the Church received her call last Saturday.

She was ordained by one of the great champions of inclusion and giants of justice in the Episcopal Church: Bishop Chet Talton. Bishop Talton – who previously served as Bishop Suffragan in my diocese of Los Angeles so I can brag on him a bit -- has thrown down a gauntlet of welcome in the Diocese of San Joaquin: “Whoever you are and wherever you find yourself, you are welcome here." And they are.

Carolyn's ordination service was hosted by the Reverend Lyn Morlan, Rector of St. Anne's Church in Stockton. Five years ago she wouldn't have been licensed to serve in the Diocese of San Joaquin, let alone called to be the rector of a parish. And tears came to my eyes as I watched a gay couple come forward to the communion rail as I remembered the horror story of a another gay couple being turned away at the altar a few short years ago.

So here’s my message to those who are discouraged and think the church is not moving fast enough: take heart, it is happening. Giants of justice like Bishop Chet Talton are making it happen. Integrity USA is making it happen. Each and every one of you is making it happen. We set audacious goals and we achieve incremental victories every day. Saturday’s ordination of Carolyn Louise Woodall was surely an audacious victory in the Diocese of San Joaquin. And if it can happen there, it can happen anywhere.

In Texas and Tallahassee; South Florida and South Carolina – and in all the other places where the full inclusion of all the baptized in all the sacraments is still a goal and not a reality. It's just a matter of time. We are at the tipping point. And we are in it to win it.

Many thanks to those brave leaders who didn't give up. To the Remain Episcopal folks who rebuilt a diocese. To Bishop Chet Talton for being the right shepherd in the right place at the right time. And especially to Deacon Carolyn Louise Woodall for modeling for us God's mission: to be your true and authentic self so you can have a true and authentic relationship with Him in order to call others into the circle of God’s inclusive love.

Louise Brooks serves on Integrity's Board of Directors and is their Director of Communications.  She is currently the Executive Producer of VOICES OF WITNESS: Out Of The Box....a video that celebrates the lives and witness of transgender Episcopalians. The DVD, complete with a study guide, will be released in May, 2012 as a gift to the church from Integrity.

Transgender and Episcopal, in the Military

This piece, which came out yesterday in the Chapel Hill News, profiles Sam Taylor, a laywoman and former army chaplain's assistant.  I first met Sam when she was in the Micah Project, an Episcopal young adult program in the Boston area (now called Life Together-- which is now accepting applications for the 2012-2013 academic year), prior to her deployment to Iraq.  Stay tuned for the second part of this two-part story, and then follow Sam's own writing, which is to follow this two-part series of stories in the Chapel Hill News.

Home from the war, a woman
SAM TAYLOR KEPT HER TRANSGENDERED IDENTITY A SECRET WHILE SERVING IN IRAQ.

Sam Taylor had to keep her transgendered identity a secret while on duty in Iraq. CONTRIBUTED PHOTO Sam Taylor now lives openly as a woman. COURTESY OF MELISSA BOYAJIN

BY TAMMY GRUBB, CORRESPONDENT

CHAPEL HILL - First of two partsSam Taylor wants to live "honestly and happily with the world" and, at 26, is just starting the journey to a career and family.
The Stanly County native joined the Army in 2003 to pay for college and, in 2007, completed a religious studies major and creative writing minor from UNC.
Two years later, Taylor left family in Chapel Hill for deployment in southern Iraq with the 34th Infantry Division.
The chaplain's assistant spent 11 months dodging rockets and toting an M-16 assault rifle to protect the chaplain, while advising soldiers and providing religious services.
Family, friends and newspaper readers at home kept up with Taylor through columns from Iraq, praying for a safe return and sending packages and correspondence.
From Basra - a city that saw some of the most intense fighting - Taylor wrote that the unit ministry team slept in a plywood hooch with a metal roof just yards from where three young soldiers were killed. Wooden crosses stood where they fell.
The team also helicoptered out for a week or two at a time to minister to soldiers in remote areas.
Taylor remembers one soldier who came in upset about an Armed Forces News story on a transgender woman. As the soldier sat crying, he said if there was any justice, "she-males" would be rounded up and killed, Taylor said.
"We had some very serious talks about how these probably weren't the people he was actually angry with, and I reminded him that we're all children of God," Taylor said. "He trusted me; he wanted to hear what I had to say ... (and) we got to talk about what was actually wrong."
No one knew how deeply that conversation touched Taylor - a closeted transgender woman.
Out - and back in again
The National Center for Transgender Equality estimates transgender individuals - people who are uncomfortable with their birth gender - make up 1 percent or less of the U.S. population. Transgendered identity does not indicate someone's sexual orientation.
A self-described "redneck" who shoots guns and talks basketball, Taylor says she always knew she wasn't a boy, but didn't want to risk coming out in a conservative community.
She first lived openly as a woman three months before going to Iraq, as the resident caretaker for a Boston rectory.
That came to an end when she was deployed to Iraq as a member of the Army National Guard.
Re-assuming a male identity was hard, but being openly transgender isn't an option in the military, Taylor said. You live a long time in close proximity to others, and every email or Facebook comment can be scrutinized. Daily attacks only add to the stress.
"Everything is exaggerated, and all the dials are turned (up)," Taylor said. "I was very nervous, and I was very, very worried about being outed in the Army."
A good soldier
The military has had gays and lesbians in its ranks for years, but it hasn't welcomed them with open arms.
Sgt. Jason Kalarchik, a former roommate, said some soldiers suspected Taylor was gay, but it wasn't their business.
"In the military, especially when you're deployed, if you think that about somebody, keep it to yourself," Kalarchik said. "The Army is really strict about it, and if anybody came into the office and said anything, they knew that I'd be on them."
It's unusual for sergeants and lower-ranked enlistees to bunk together, but "we got along really well," Kalarchik said. They're still good friends, although Kalarchik said he was surprised to learn last year that Taylor was a transgender woman.
"Sam kept it pretty close to the vest on the whole transgender issue," he said. "His personality was definitely different. He had some pretty liberal leanings when we had political discussions, and he spoke vehemently about gay rights."
Last month, Taylor told her Army chaplain, Kevin Winemiller, the truth. He was surprised and doesn't agree with the choice, but Winemiller said they will always be friends.
Winemiller said he isn't sure what response a transgender soldier would receive from other soldiers. But Taylor was a good soldier and chaplain's assistant, building a lending library, inventing games for the soldiers, and even earning the "high honor" of writing speeches for the colonel, he said.
"He was a great Bible teacher, he could run the chapel ... he could do the presentation of the Sacraments, he could do everything," Winemiller said.
Fitting the mold
One week after being discharged last spring, Taylor started injecting estrogen hormones into her thigh muscle in May 2010. Typically, hormones make breasts grow larger, reduce body hair, soften skin and move body fat to the hips, thighs and buttocks. Voice changes require surgery.
Taylor doesn't like to talk about her physical changes.
"I feel that, because there are so many stories and jokes and ideas about what happens to a trans woman's body ... and because that journey is often so visible to the outside world, non-trans people often feel that they are no longer bounded by standards of politeness when it comes to questions about a trans person's body," she said.
Her parents, Michael and Susan Taylor, said they stand in support of her.
"We are Sam Taylor's parents," they said via email. "We love Sam and are proud of Sam. A graduate of UNC, a veteran of the Iraq War and a devoted Christian, Sam is a fine person. We stand with Sam."
Taylor said being out has improved her relationships and her ministry.
"I can let people know there is forgiveness and love and grace for everyone, not just the folks who happen to fit into just the right mold of how somebody else thinks they should be," Taylor said.
In the fall, she became active as a layperson at St. Paul's Episcopal Church in Brookline, Mass. She is taking steps to someday become a priest.
Taylor has faced the stigma of being transgender a few times, although it's usually just a dirty look or a double take, she said. Once, three men surrounded her on a train, asking threatening questions. Taylor stayed calm and got off at the next stop.
Her focus now is on being honest with herself.
"Sadly life isn't simply one long trip to steal a dragon's treasure out from under some mountain," Taylor said. "There's no one scale to pain or worry, or to the joy that comes with knowing that it is possible to survive and thrive despite whatever the universe has thrown at me."