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Last week, someone from my parish posted a simple invitation to worship with us on a public Facebook page for the wider Washington community. There was nothing judgmental or confrontational about the invitation, only our service times and a short statement at the bottom, accompanied by a symbol signifying Pride and LGBTQ+ inclusion: “You are beloved. You belong. No exceptions.”

The backlash was swift. The anger, the hatred, and the intolerance were predictable. I’ve regrettably come to expect loud cries of exclusion whenever my parish or I publicly declare our commitment to being a safe space, an oasis of love. Typically, the criticism is relatively broad and rarely well thought out. People wield Bible verses out of context as if that will suddenly change the minds of those who have extensively studied the same Scriptures but arrived at vastly different interpretations. Consistently, individuals hop onto our Facebook posts solely to stir up trouble and inflict pain.

It also got weirdly personal this time. Someone singled me out and called me a “gay satanic priest” who was weird and untrustworthy. They highlighted my extensive tattoos as an indicator that something was deeply wrong with me. He claimed to have met me, though the only time I remember meeting him was when he was already drunk at a local bar where I co-host a public theological discussion group. It was bizarre, and though it didn’t make me angry or hurt, I felt the need to step in and stand up for myself. “I’m not a satanist,” I said. “I just like tattoos.”

His criticism of my tattoos isn’t the point; his behavior is. To all those who quickly spread and type personal attacks on the Internet: do you not realize that it affects real people? Behind the Facebook post of my church is a person who is loving, welcoming, and affirming, and I’m sure they would do everything to make my personal critic as comfortable as possible. Hospitality is a virtue we have in abundance at Saint Peter’s.

Truly, the bigoted criticism of the LGBTQ+ community never fails to be words that would cause Jesus himself to give you a look that says, “Say it again and you and I will have words.” When these kinds of words are used, the hateful and dehumanizing ones, wounds are left that linger for a lifetime. You might feel good about what you type, even righteous, but you achieve nothing except bringing more pain into a world that is already screaming in agony.

Jonathan Joss was a cherished actor known for his work in Parks and Recreation and King of the Hill. I said it was because he was murdered this year on June 1 because he was gay. When was the last time you can recall anyone, especially a respected and beloved public figure, being killed because they were straight? You probably can’t remember, not because you forgot, but because such incidents are non-existent. Nobody has ever been hanged from a tree for being heterosexual. Therefore, until we live in a world where no one is killed for being gay, I will celebrate Pride loudly. Until we ensure that individuals aren’t brutalized for whom they love, I will celebrate Pride boldly. Until we foster a community that refrains from unfairly judging a church for merely wanting to embody Jesus’ teachings and welcome everyone at the table, I will celebrate Pride with an evangelical zeal that matches my most passionate theological critics.

And for the record, just so my personal online critic can sleep in peace, I am not gay. However, if I were, I would celebrate it with my whole being. Using gay as a slur doesn’t offend me; instead, it highlights the need for me to amplify my voice as an ally, so that insults like yours are mere echoes of a bygone era. Let it go, my friend. Join us at a feast prepared by Jesus, who sees everyone in the LGBTQ+ community and proclaims, “You are my beloved.”