First Sunday of Advent: Queer Reassurance and Diligent Waiting
Sam Barnes (second from top left) with DignityUSA’s World Youth Day pilgrims before their journey to Lisbon, Portugal, in August 2023.
Like almost every young queer person I know, in December of 2020, I settled down with some popcorn and hot cocoa to watch Happiest Season, a purportedly “Hallmark movie with a gay twist.” I was ecstatic. For the first time, I would get to enjoy all the stalwarts of a cheesy Christmas movie with the added bonus of queer characters. However, when the movie ended, all I could think about was the horror of being forced to come out to my extended family in such a public, mortifying manner on the eve of one of the most joyous holidays of the year.
The holidays can be hard for LGBTQIA+ folks. Some of us feel nostalgic for our childhood when life was simpler, while others travel miles and miles to visit relatives who don’t truly know or accept us.
Today marks the beginning of Advent, our season of preparation to celebrate Jesus’ birth and welcome the incarnation of Love. We give ourselves space to reflect on and yearn for the presence of Jesus in our midst. As Mark writes in today’s Gospel passage, “Be on guard! Be alert! You do not know when that time will come. It’s like a [person] going away: [they] leave their house and put their servants in charge, each with their assigned task, and tell the one at the door to keep watch” (Mark 13:33-34). Mark reminds us that Advent is a time of waiting, yes, but diligent waiting; we actively engage in prayer, meditation, and Scripture reading while preparing for a renewed sense of the coming of Jesus.
Advent is, inherently, a queer season. This four-week journey of desperate yearning for God is often similarly experienced by LGBTQIA+ folks as we diligently wait for a more inclusive future. That is not to say that we aren’t active in our communities, campaigning against “Don’t Say Gay” laws and bans on transgender youth participation in sports. That is also not to say that we aren’t beseeching our God for everyone, from narrow-minded politicians to our own family members, to open their hearts to the warm inclusivity of Jesus and his teachings. As we are reminded in Isaiah 64:3, God can move in ways we can’t even fathom: “For when you did awesome things that we did not expect, you came down, and the mountains trembled before you.” Our God is already chipping away at the calcification of those cold hearts.
And so we wait, with the reassurance that God “come[s] to the help of those who gladly do right, who remember your ways” (Isaiah 64:5). As someone who lives in the Washington, D.C. area, my first instinct after reading this is to wag my finger at the homophobes and transphobes: “God is on my side, na-na-na-na-na-na!” But why would God extend Their love and grace only to me and not to my enemies? After all, “God is faithful, who has called you into fellowship with their Son, Jesus Christ our Lord” (1 Corinthian 1:9). Isn’t everyone invited to participate in the fellowship of God? I might not want homophobes at my dinner table, and they certainly do not want me at theirs, but we are all invited nonetheless.
I was confronted with this reality recently while in Portugal for the Catholic Church’s World Youth Day celebrations. I was incredibly lucky to accompany DignityUSA’s delegation to this international conference and be a beacon of queer inclusivity and love in the midst of a highly religious dialogue. I prepared myself for folks to tell us we did not belong at the conference or that we were living in mortal sin and needed to repent immediately. However, what I was confronted with was beyond my expectations.
“You are not Catholic,” one youth told my group.
I wanted to respond: “Do you want to see my Confirmation certificate?” Instead, I told him to enjoy the celebration and walked away.
Similar conversations occurred several more times at World Youth Day. These accusations bewildered me. Upon further reflection, I realized that I had misconceptualized the invitation to God’s table. God’s love should not be weaponized. God’s grace is not a gun to shoot at my enemies. Jesus welcomes me, a queer individual, to dine with him alongside lepers and adulterers and, yes, homophobes and transphobes.
During the Christmas season, we might be forced to sit beside close family or friends who scorn us. Not every LGBTQIA+ person has a safe and affirming home for the holidays; many of us must sew our mouths shut or even go back into the closet. If these times are difficult for you, I invite you to transform your apprehension into confidence during Advent. You have every right to a place at God’s table, whether you are gay, straight, transgender, cisgender, asexual, allosexual, etc. While people on this Earth may question your presence, God never does. As we are reminded in Isaiah 63:16, “But you are our [God], though Abraham does not know us or Israel acknowledge us; you … are our [God].”
Though the world may not know us, God does. And They love us.
I wish all of you a meaningful Advent season. Sending queer love and prayers from D.C.
About the author:
Sam Barnes is a youth advocate for LGBTQIA+ inclusion in Catholic and religious spaces. They have a master’s degree in policy and work in the international affairs space. They previously served as the Editor-in-Chief of the International Affairs Review published by The George Washington University. In their free time, they enjoy rock climbing and reading and volunteer with a local mentorship program for high schoolers.
