This is part of a series of a year long journey by Friar Pete, O.F.A., St. Michael's Hermitage, Regina, SK through the book, “Franciscan Virtues Through the Year“.
This is a tough one for a lot of people.  The idea that a piece of bread and a portion of wine and water can be transformed into something Divine, something that is more, is a hard concept because it goes contrary to what we know as materialistic and scientific facts.   We tend to want to assert that this is simply a ritual, simply an act that uses substances to symbolically represent how we are now closer to God, through the symbolic presence of the Eucharist being Jesus.  The bread being His body and the wine and water being His blood.
Things don't transform like that except in fairy tales.  Its the same principle as Santa Claus, the tooth fairy.  Its a delusion that is performed as a means of asserting the validity of another delusion.
But things do transform.  Seeds become plants.  Plants become food.  The process that allows this to occur is measured by hypothesis that are observable in repeatable conditions.  Scientific principles require an act of faith every time they observed:  the faith that the results will be predictable, and the same.
People transform, sometimes so radically and so improbably that the people around them hardly are able to believe it.  A few years ago, I was so gripped by anxiety and depression that the people closest to me did not believe that I was going to be able to pull myself out of it.  And yet, almost overnight, my depression and anxiety were shrunk to manageable proportions.
So is it unreasonable to believe that the Eucharist. the bread and wine, is the actual physical presence of Jesus Christ?
Of course its not unreasonable to believe this!
We exist in a society that is full of flash and bang.  When something quiet approaches us, it's hard to be able to hear, or to even listen continually because we are taught to be impatient.  If it's not something that can be tangible or explained in 30 seconds, it must not be real--not because it can't be explained or be tangible in less than 30 seconds, but because we don't have the patience to wait, to think, to reason.
The Eucharist teaches us to be patient.  It teaches us to listen, to be silent, to be comfortable with the uncomfortableness of that silence.  It teaches us to go inward, to be mindful of God's presence within us.  It links us through time and space to every single Christian celebration of the Lord's Supper, draws us to the upper room the night before the crucifixion, and links us directly to Christ not only in history, but in the present.
Reverence for the Eucharist is reverence not only for tradition, it is reverence for the actual presence:  Jesus is present in the bread and wine--Jesus is present within us when we consume the bread and wine.  But more importantly, Jesus is present in every other human being that we meet on the face of the planet; including the people we would hope with all out hearts to not find Him.  So the political leaders who drive us crazy, the activists who might be too far right or left on the scale of politically correct for our tastes, the atheist and the agnostic, the ultra poor and the ultra rich:  Christ is there.
For me, as a Eucharistic Catholic, this means that I'm currently only able to receive the sacraments when I travel to Toronto.  It was brought up recently by a colleague that it shouldn't be a problem to receive sacraments in a Roman Catholic church:  the problem I have with that is this.  In 99.9% of all Roman Catholic instances, being an actively queer person isn't copacetic with Roman Catholic dogmatic belief.  For me to receive sacraments in a Roman Catholic setting would require me to effectively be receiving the body and blood while not being in a state of grace (meaning, not being in the best condition spiritually/mentally/emotionally to receive the body and blood of Jesus Christ).  In order for me to receive the sacrament in full honesty, in full communion, it's got to be in a setting where I'm open about who and what I am.
But this then opens up the question:  What's the Divine attitude towards people who are queer?  And can one be sufficiently reverent towards the Eucharist while being fully engaged in queer culture?
I think this is a great topic for a future blog post.  Stay tuned.

This is part of a series of a year long journey by Friar Pete, O.F.A., St. Michael's Hermitage, Regina, SK through the book, “Franciscan Virtues Through the Year“. If you’d like more information on Old/Independent Catholicism, or would like more information on my denomination, or feel called to a vocation, click here!

​This is a tough one for me today because I'm trying to assimilate some hard things that were said specifically about a production here in town, but more generally, speak to how trans people are treated by society and by the queer "community".
The reflection, in part, includes a passage from Hebrews which reads: Let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering, for he who is promised is faithful.  And let us consider how to stir up one another to love and good works, not neglecting to meet together, as is the habit of some, but encouraging one another, and all the more as you see the Day drawing near." (Hb, 10:23-25)
Something I've been working over in my head as part of developing a retreat for Pride this year is how we can draw from our experiences, the experiences that in part help to identify us, can make us more empathic to those around us.  Our experiences may be different, but the emotions hold a kind of solidarity that we can use to expand our perceptions and shake off the cobwebs that resting in privilege creates.  After I had read the letter (which you can find here), I had to take a look at the script I was working with and ask myself, is this something people want to hear, is this something people would find encouraging, is this enough?
This is where the idea of encouragement comes along.
When I started to try to learn about privilege, what privilege was, what it meant to me not only as someone who is part of a system that includes me as privileged, but also as someone who in the same mouthful excludes me, I had and still have a hard time with simple things like pronouns, with trying to identify with what it must be like to be trans, especially when we live in a 'community' that locally (and I suspect universally) still has a long way to go in terms of embracing everyone within it.  There are many of us in the 'community' that are trying very hard to be inclusive and considerate of everyone, and sometimes we fall short.  But it's important to remember that we're trying.
In this context, I think encouragement is not only an active thing that one individual does, but it's only possible with internalization, with assessment, with honest acknowledgment that maybe, just maybe, things aren't balanced and we're benefiting from that imbalance.  This isn't to say that any and all efforts aren't important, but the reality is this:  I know of at least two incidents in the Regina community where trans people were treated inappropriately by members of the queer 'community'.
Encouragement begins by saying to our trans siblings:  You're right.
Our community has failed you because some of us have forgotten what it was like to be the parishioners of Sacred Heart Church in Atlanta, Georgia who were refused the sacraments because they were queer, parishioners who remained at the alter rail until the end of service in protest, 23 years before Stonewall.
Some of us have forgotten what it was like to have to walk Albert Street wearing masks because we could be identified, fired, arrested for standing up for our basic human rights, for wanting to be proud, for wanting a parade.  Some of us have forgotten what it was like to have to walk the halls of the Saskatchewan Legislature, to sit in the public gallery, to watch as every NDP MLA wore a pride pin EXCEPT for then Premier Roy Romanow, who's government refused to declare LGBT Pride across Saskatchewan for one day.
We've  forgotten you because some of us have become complacent in what we have achieved,  and in that achievement, we've created an atmosphere of privilege that is exactly the same as the one we have fought against.
Some of us have forgotten that queer spaces are supposed to be inclusive to the entire tapestry of communities that unites us.  We've forgotten to speak up when we hear people being abusive, treating us the way we were once treated ourselves.
Some of us have forgotten what it's like to be stalked, to be hunted, to be bashed.  We've lost touch with the fear, the anxiety, the stress of having to stand in a shower, trying to wash the smell of urine away that was only moments ago inside water balloons that were thrown, the word "faggot" that was heard along side laughter, that wondering if I had been too gay, too open, if I was still safe to walk home.  We've lost touch with the connection to the violence that still lives, still plagues our trans siblings.
If we're going to call ourselves a 'community', we have to engage:  we have to constantly consider how to love and encourage one another, how to proceed with good works, how to reconcile, to listen, to allow ourselves to be heard, and to respect the stories we hear.  The day is here.  Our trans siblings have waited long enough.  It's time to be the family we purport to be, it's time to find the commonality in our communities that unites us, and act on it.
We can't encourage unless we're prepared to admit we've caused harm, inadvertently or otherwise.  We can't encourage if we're still willing to walk together, but on different sides of the street.
When we are able to think back to when we were marginalized, when we were in the emotions of being marginalized, we enter into the beginning of understanding the walk of the person on the other side of the street.  It then becomes our responsibility to cross over.  If we wait, we risk loosing the opportunity for reconciliation, an opportunity to strengthen each other by working towards a new way of thinking, a way that acknowledges privilege not as something entitled by where you were born, but by virtue that you were born a human being with diverse talents, flaws, and an innate entitlement to respect regardless of the condition of the shell your spirit is contained in.
How do you do it?
Smile.  Say hello to people.  Say hello to people you wouldn't normally say hello to.  Challenge people when you hear something that's not consistent with how you would be treated or thought of yourself.  Recognize when you're taking part in a system that is marginalizing another person for your own benefit.  Love people, even and especially the people that make you angry, that push you into corners, that want you to be something different or challenge your ideas or your beliefs.  Give those people the opportunity to be who they are and watch, listen, engage with your heart but not your mouth.
Encourage people with your actions more than your words.  Be consistent with your actions, especially if it means doing something you're afraid to do.
It's OK to be a coward!  It's OK to be afraid!  It's OK to be scared of change.
Change anyway.  Change if it's the right thing to do.