A Catholic gay on the way in times that have lost hope

Jason Steidl Jack* article published on the website of Outreach (USA) on February 20, 2025, freely translated by Diego de La Tenda di Gionata

It was difficult weeks for many injured and vulnerable people in the United States and all over the world.

The administration of President Donald Trump has triggered an avalanche of executive orders directed against transgender people, color people, immigrants, refugees, women, people with disabilities, war victims and the poor. The news is dark and the world seems dark.

To be honest, I fought with despair. I am still tired of the first Trump administration and we are about to start another four years. How can we go on?

I noticed that many of my closest friends, of my family and my community they think the same way. But I also noticed small changes in the way we relate to each other who give me hope.

It all started in my house. Lately I needed much more affection and my husband was there to give it to me. After a day of bad news, I ask him to hug me and he cradles me to make me fall asleep.

It wasn't like this before, when I was satisfied with going to bed alone. Now the stakes seem higher and he is becoming an ever wider channel than grace and peace.

I also discovered that I am more affectionate with him. At this moment it is at school, often tired and sometimes irritable. With the upside -down world, I tried to transform our house into a refuge: preparing hot dinners more often, making laundry when necessary, listening carefully while telling his day.

We decided not to look at the phone when we spend time together in the morning. Our house has become a place where attention and care abound.

I also noticed thin changes in my employment relationships. When a student does not deliver a task in time, I am slower to give a judgment. Maybe they are struggling with an intense anxiety. Perhaps their immigrant parents have no legal documents and are running to get some kind of status. Instead of blaming them, I ask them how they are. When I interpret the actions of others, I try to adopt a hermeneutics of generosity and concern.

The communities to which I belong (university, parish, neighborhood, queer community) are renewing their commitment to statement and compassion. I saw people who had never spoken consciously with a transgender person to realize the need for inclusive bathrooms suddenly.

The communities that took for granted the presence of immigrants and refugees are now doing everything possible to guarantee their safety. It seems that everyone is thinking about new ways to help protect the most vulnerable among us. The struggle may have just begun, but there is an electric energy among those who are eager to do the right thing.

When I am out and go around, I became more attentive to the small gestures of kindness, as someone who is waiting for me to keep the door of a building or a disabled friend open to me in a nursing home that gives five dollars for (the Ministry of) the homeless.

These ordinary and apparently simple sacrifices strengthen faith in the fact that a better world is about to realize. They are small signs that the kingdom of God is upon us, even when the Empire of Evil seems to have the upper hand. My soul is anxious to embrace and keep the daily gestures of love that nourish our common humanity and indicate the work of God between us.

In recent years, in some Christian circles it has become fashionable to condemn empathy and embrace forms of religion that favor the strong and powerful. Nothing could be farthest from the truth.

Christians serve a god whose heart broke for slaves, who established years of Jubilee to forgive the debts and called the people of God to welcome the foreigner and take care of the orphan and the widow.

Christians believe in a Christ, God made man, who cried on Jerusalem, whose heart was moved by the sick, sinners, marginalized and poor, leading him to identify with them and to bring healing to the sick, sinners, marginalized and poor. It was that Christ who died like a criminal, not to suffer from the taste of suffering, but to overthrow all form of empire, oppression and inhumanization.

The God of Jesus Christ calls those who claim to be his disciples to do the same. Life in Christ means that we do not conform to the habits and expectations established by the rulers, authorities and cosmic powers of this present darkness. (Ephesians 6, 12)

Rather, as Saint Paul reminds us, the fruits of the spirit are "love, joy, peace, magnanimity, benevolence, goodness, loyalty, mildness and self -dominion". Regardless of the state of the world, "against these things there is no law" (Galati 5, 22-23).

Focusing on the fruits of the spirit can have a remarkable impact on our spiritual life.

In recent years, when I struggled against despair, a dear friend encouraged me to stop me and contemplate moments of beauty, goodness and compassion. We must follow the Council of Saint Paul, who said to believers:

"What is true, what is noble, what is right, what is pure, what is lovable, what is honored, what is virtue and what deserves praise, this is the subject of your thoughts»(Philippians 4, 8).

When I take the advice of my friends and San Paolo seriously, I start to internalize feelings of security and light. Meditating on the good can be a powerful antidote to feelings of anxiety and discouragement, illuminating my vision of life and restoring my hope in God.

There is no doubt that the next few years will be demanding for many. But I cling to my Christian vocation to be an honest person and to seek honesty in my relationships with others. Together, even in the darkest moments, we will trace the way to follow.

There are already signs that God is making a new work and Christ invites each of us to share his Ministry of Reconciliation: to be loved and to love others, just like the love of God supports all of us.

*Jason Steidl Jack is assistant to the chair of religious studies at St. Joseph's University in Brooklyn, NY has achieved the doctorate in systematic theology at Fordham University in 2018.

Original Tesse: A Gay Catholic on Finding Hope in Seemingly Hopeless Times