androgyne acolyte

Tamsin | they/she | genderqueer ministry hopeful | angelic troublemaker | reclaiming Christianity as the radical social justice movement it was always meant to be | main: tamsythepansy

[tamsythepansy]

To continue a story that started three and a half years ago, I finally graduated from theological school yesterday! So thankful to have a space wherein I could grow and learn and write about completely off-the-wall things while learning from the weirdest and most generous people I've ever met. (Also, I suspect I was their first openly trans Master of Divinity student, but they worked so hard to just casually take me in stride that I'm not sure.)

Now, back to my regular schedule of resisting empire, seeking justice, and being a joyous thorn in the side of religious homophobes everywhere. 💜

[androgyne-acolyte]

Haven't posted here in way too long, but I thought it was important to highlight this milestone. Our work has only just begun...

[boykeats]

flash question: what makes us queer christians so fascinated by judas iscariot and his relationship with Jesus? go! (i'm genuinely interested in this though haha)

i think it’s because of judas’ place in the narrative as reviled pariah. judas was part of the inner circle, one of the men whom jesus trusted the most, held closest, loved and loved truly, but in spite of the fact that he was a man who hoped and prayed and laughed and tried to be good, we still call him devilish and irredeemable because we define him only by that one moment of his human weakness and not the whole picture.

the reclamation of him as a sympathetic figure is highly appealing to queer christians because we occupy a similar place in the narrative of our own lives– majority cis het christians call us sinners, liars, and betrayers and despise us just for existing, but in doing so they forget that we are ultimately people whom jesus loves abundantly. we are not just forgiven, as all believers are; our queer identities are heaven-sent, blessed, and so so holy.

look at it like this: if judas can be loved by christ unconditionally in spite of damning the man to his grave, if judas can hurt so much as to take his own life but then find both acceptance and healing in heaven, then we queer believers assuredly can receive limitless tenderness from the lord right here, right now. no matter how much any close-minded person might try to convince us that we’re damning ourselves for living our lives, judas is proof that anyone can be saved, and yes, that most certainly includes us. the intense hate we face is nothing compared to the sacred beauty which god knows exists in our survival.

in short, we queer christians are drawn to judas because he is imperfect and shunned and tragic and loved by jesus regardless. his story reminds us that no matter how our lives play out, there is love here for us now and love waiting for us on the other side. none of us are truly irredeemable

[hymnsofheresy]

so I wasn’t really raised religious but I see religious people talk about prayers and shit but what is prayer supposed to do exactly? Is it like calling god on the phone and asking him to fix your problems? Does god hear them and decide which one he’s gonna deal with ?

Prayer is sometimes about "fixing" problems. When I lost my passport last year, I wept to St. Anthony begging for intercession to help me find it. Or when I was sick with the flu, I prayed to Christ to alleviate my pain. Now in both instances, some miracle didn't happen; but prayer in these desperate situations helped calm me down. It brought me a sense of comfort that helped me through those difficult times. I did end up thanking St. Anthony when I eventually found my passport.

I would say, for the most part, my regular prayers are about forming a connection with God. It is not really a reciprocal relationship in a literal material sense; I don't ask God for things, and God gives those things to me when I am a Good Christian. I pray for guidance through difficult situations. I ask God to be present in my daily sufferings. I question God as to why certain things are happening. And sometimes I just sit in goalless silence and wait.

I believe God hears all my prayers and answers them all accordingly... that doesn't mean I don't always love the response that God gives.

[angelsamericana]

angel trueforms but they look like these chandeliers

inspired by this post

[angelsamericana]

[hymnsofheresy]

excuse me, but it's MY turn to project myself onto mary magdalene

[secifosseluce]

as much as the concept of Jesus being a fairly normal lad has its charms, im personally very intrigued by the idea of him being just… extremely weird. not even in a mystical sense, just…….staggeringly BIZZARRE. 

you go to the well to get some water, and here’s Miriam’s boy, staring at the sky, completely still. his expression is unreadable. you hazard a hello and ask how he’s doing, and he slowly, unblinkingly, lowers his gaze on you (he’s 8 and is missing his frontal teeth, not that this is making you any less uncomfortable) and says “I cannot speak of the state of my being, Nathan son of Saul, my brother, but rejoice for the water you shall take today will be as pure as the soul of the children of Heaven”

…you start sweating

[secifosseluce]

normal person in 1st century Nazareth: making my way downtown, walking fast

*sees J boy, 8 yo, staring at you from across the street*

normal person: walking faster 

[secifosseluce]

even funnier, the only person 100% on board with his Prophetic Kid Talk is his mother Miriam, an otherwise placid, absolutely normal woman around 25 or so

kid JC, coming home at twilight, a single white dove following him and chirping with weirdly human-like precision:

 moth̫́er,̦͌ ̮̉i h͙̉av͔̽e ͓͗b̘̃r̞̓o̮͘u̲̒gh̟͒t̺́ you a do̗͐ṽ͙e̢͘ ͈̾m͒͢a͈̽dē̝ ỏ̘f ͈̓c̆͜l͔̂aỷ͇ aṋ̑d̳̿ g͢͞i̹̾fted̖͡ ̻͐it ͓͂w̖̿it̎͜h t̥̃h͙͒e ̨̒m̧̂i̡̍ŗ͒â̫cḷ̔è̤ ̛̻of̞̅ l̘̈i̛̦fè̳

Miriam: ! that’s my little boy :) now let’s go get ready for dinner :) 

her husband Yosef, a carpenter who only marginally got signed up for this: 

[bargains-by-duckface]

This post is so Christian, but it’s the spicy kind of Christian that gets you murdered by other Christians for heresy, so I’m torn.

[secifosseluce]

literally biggest form of compliment i’ve ever gotten

[moonsterm]

that means the angels are babysitters then

[moonsterm]

here have more

[patricia-von-arundel]

You guys really need to read Christopher Moore’s Lamb, if you haven’t.

[frikinnerd]

Always reblog Cryptid Jesus

[moonsterm]

I made more. cause it’s fun

[crap-copper]

I love that you guys used their actual names

[roane72]

I did not consider Eldritch Baby Jesus.

[lilaccatholic]

God I know you have a sense of humor because otherwise there’s no explanation for the platypus and I hope it extends to comics about baby cryptid Jesus

[flamingkorybante]

From Something That May Shock And Discredit You, Daniel Lavery

[yidquotes]

God needs no words, no English or Hebrew, no semantics and no services.

But I need them.

Through prayer, I can sense my inner strength, my inner purpose, my inner joy, my capacity to love.

As I reach upward in prayer, I sense these qualities in my Creator.

Mishkan Tefilah

[rolandiatravel]

The Tipova Cave Monastery is carved in stone on the bank of the Dniestr River. Its exact age is a topic of debate, but some experts think that it dates back from the 11th century.

[dongcroncher]

[spiritual-activism]

LOVE in World Religions

    Christinanity: “Beloved, let us love one another, for love is of God; and everyone that loveth is born of God, and knoweth God. He that loveth not, knoweth not God, for God is Love.”     Confucianism: “To love all men is the greatest benevolence.”     Buddhism: “Let a man cultivate towards the whole world a heart of Love.     Hinduism: “One can best worship the Lord through Love.”     Islam: “Love is this, that thou shouldst account thyself very little and God very great.”     Taoism: “Heaven arms with Love those it would not see destroyed.”     Sikhism: “God will regenerate those in whose hearts there is Love.”     Judaism: “Thou shalt Love the Lord thy God with all thy heart and thy neighbour as thyself.”     Jainism: “The days are of most profit to him who acts in Love.”     Zoroastrianism: “Man is the beloved of the Lord and should Love him in return.”     Baha’i: “Love Me that I may love thee. If though lovest Me not, My love can no wise reach thee.”     Shinto: “Love is the representative of the Lord.”

– taken from the book Be Here Now, by Ram Dass

[girlwhocriedsupernova]

It’s been said before but:

In Jesus’s crucifixion we learn that the powers that be are violent, untrustworthy, and illegitimate.

In Jesus’s resurrection we learn that the powers that be do not have ultimate power or the final word.

That is the basis of my politics - that the status quo is violent and evil, and that there is hope for us to fight back.

[bruisebank-deactivated20201116]

“Please, let me please feel better.” 2016.

[androgyne-acolyte]

I’ve just reblogged a lot of poetry from one of my closest friends, who went missing again Thursday evening. I have a horrible feeling about this time. These are prayers for her recovery and safe return, that she would remember these revelations about herself and come home.

[bruisebank-deactivated20201116]

up d a t e // manipura memos

Up to date, yes, I am up to date. Girl wanders close to fire. Fire stands still. Roars. Girl feels warmth.

Colour change signifies a new phase of being, nothing horribly mal. I am hypnotized by the future - it burns bright. 

Gratitude grounds me. I am ready to transfigure the third power of wrath. This will take courage, which I carry with me on my left hip, always.

Notes: 

- “You” does not always mean a lover. It also doesn’t necessarily mean you.

- I’m on the fence about what this blog means to me or what its purpose is. A new project is underway and may result in a new blog. This one will not disappear, but remain as a witness.

- I have a lot of questions. I’m not sure if here is the place for them, but it might be.

[bruisebank-deactivated20201116]

a song of sixpence

Alas, the past is fleeting. Alone, my bones are keeping time, time to float away. Oh, what is the dream I am believing? Where do our hearts enter this weaving? Weft behind, warp to go. Alas, the past is fleeting… Time says, “Let it go.” 

And if my heart was thunder, surely I’d be understanding, by now, what it means to be alone. Feed the thunder, feed the bones, feed the men and make them moan. Alas, the past is fleeting. My thread is caught, I’m surely weeping.

Honey, now I know I’m grown. The question is, how do I know? Alone, my bones are keeping time, time to serve as thread. Sing a song of letting go, weft behind, warp to go. That word, it rhymes with dead. See how I worked that in there? You wouldn’t think I could be so stuck on a topic. I knew we’d see that one today.

Time is a rhythm God left behind. Time is a runnin’, a runnin’ all the time.

And if gratitude is gracious, good God, let that be it! A secret for the keeping. A whisper to the end.

[bruisebank-deactivated20201116]

I need to take another drag. I need to fall asleep. I need to know that the songs I’m listening to aren’t my reality. I need to know that it’s possible to feel whole. I need another drag. I need to pray. I need. I want. I hope.

Picture a prayer like a drag on a cigarette. Slow at first, needy. Satisfying a craving that only God can see. It’s a feeling, body-deep. I don’t speak out loud when I pray. I know I am heard because my heart beats. Breath after breath is another kind of yearning. I’m so predictable. I need to fall asleep.

[bruisebank-deactivated20201116]

PSALM 22 / a modern setting

My God, oh my God, what the hell are you doing?

When I scream, you don’t hear me, and the night nurse comes.

Oh my God, I cry in the daylight to no one,

And in the night, to no one.

They say you are holy,

Maybe even king of this hospital, or more.

In you, my family’s trusting.

Reaching for hope I can’t see.

To you, they cry,

And I’m supposed to save myself

To prove your worth.

But I am miserable and not woman enough.

I am here, and you, not here.

The other patients don’t like me.

Every day, at breakfast, I find my coffee’s been drunk.

They say, “let your God fix this for you. Selfish girl, do you really think God could ever love you?”

My mother doesn’t want me,

So this part of the psalm isn’t a big help.

But apparently, when I was wanted, you were there.

Many men want me.

Their bodies surround me and

In my nightmares they take me

Until I am nothing.

I am loath to compare myself to water, for I am none so good as that.

If anything, I am the mud that leads to the river.

And you know that I’ve been stepped on before.

My heart is broken clay,

My strength is soft and malleable,

And comes in bottles labeled “Seroquel.”

I won’t forget that you brought me here.

A broken system encompasses me,

It leaves me to choose life on my own, and I am torn.

No one here will help me see the good in this empty coffee cup.

I’m sick of hospital food, of the taste of confinement.

Stop staring at me! And stop asking me for cigarettes.

Oh, fuck it, God, I’m asking you for help.

If you are what they say you are, feel free to do your magic.

Take me as I am, resurrect me.

I hear you’re good at that.

Save me from my sadness.

I might never be free.

I will thank you each day, God, for this living if you free me.

Because if you can lift me up, I’m gonna be impressed.

Look me in the eyes and know me, as I have been fully known.

And maybe, if I have a daughter, my secret hope.

Maybe, I’ll teach her to pray.

To pray boldly, for a day when I shall know, and she shall know, that we are safe.

Safe. Holy. Safe.