It was this past Friday night, in Oak Ridge, Tennessee – my hometown, my birthplace, the day after my birthday. Seated at a long table in a Mexican restaurant, my father’s favorite. He sits on the other side, across from me and my son Beau. We put Dad in the middle because he doesn’t hear well in crowds. A lifelong conservative, hopeful for what the elections can mean for the economy. Across from us, he struggles to hear, but also to speak.
He says to Beau: “Can I ask you a question?”
Beau replies: “Sure.” Smiling, but I hear the wobble in his voice.
“You know I love you, I support you. But what do you think about these trans athletes?”
“I don’t follow sports. What are you worried about in particular?”
“What bothers me is people with grown male bodies competing against young girls. It’s just not fair…”
So it continued. It was hard, and I resisted the urge, my need to jump in and save. I didn’t need to. Beau is used to this question. If you don’t know, my son is a 29-year-old trans man.
The next day, I told my sister about this exchange. “Oh no. He asked that! I’m so sorry!” But I reassured her that Beau was not offended. He was glad. He would rather talk than walk on eggshells. He knew his grandfather was hard of hearing, a hardliner on lots of his opinions, but Beau also knew he was not so hard of heart. This was the same man who, six years ago when Beau first visited after he transitioned, greeted Beau at the front door with a song featuring his new first name: “Mister Bo Jangles! Mister Bo Jangles!”
Last Friday night, we didn’t get to more than that first question. Even though we were surrounded by servers who spoke with Spanish accents, we didn’t take the moment to ask other, harder questions: “What about the owner or the workers of this, your favorite restaurant? Do you think they feel worried for themselves, their families, their communities?”
But a first question is a good start – now more than ever, in these new national days of hopeful anticipation for some, deadly dread for others. We have to engage with more than those on our side of the table. We remain in the dark, if we can’t give voice to the hard questions and hard answers. Answers, for sure, that may also need to lead to more than words, should the days turn more dire. We will need to act, to work together to keep safe those in harm’s way. To keep saying no to hate, and no to violence as any kind of solution. But it starts with seeing and hearing with the eyes and ears of God, who brings light to our darkness in the gift of God’s very self, Jesus Christ, who is with us, for us, and in us, as we anticipate his coming even now, in this particular season of Advent.
Let us pray together, this prayer found in the annually published devotional book, BREAD FOR THE DAY 2024, from Augsburg Fortress. This prayer is offered for use as the first candle of the Advent wreath is lighted:
Blessed are you, God of Jacob, for you promise to transform weapons of war into implements of planting and harvest and to teach us your way of peace; you promise that our night of sin is far gone and that your day of salvation is dawning. As we light the first candle on this wreath, wake us from our sleep, wrap us in your warmth, empower us to live honorably, and guide us along your path of peace. Amen.
Serving Christ Together,
Bishop Christopher deForest (he/him)
Northeastern Pennsylvania Synod, Evangelical Lutheran Church in America
