It’s hard to see what the Roman Catholic Church finds so threatening about women leaders when Denise Hackert-Stoner of Albany describes her Upper Room Inclusive Catholic Community. She’s been excommunicated from the traditional Church since her ordination and sees little prospect of it dropping its ban on women priests at least in her lifetime despite the massive pedophile priest scandal plaguing the institution. Women priests demand engagement, charity, compassion, beauty and see themselves as renegades.Denise Hackert-Stoner is an ordained priest in the Association of Roman Catholic Women Priests, and an active member of the Upper Room Inclusive Catholic Community in Albany, NY. As a presider in this community she prepares and participates in church celebrations, and sacramental occasions. She is also in direct service ministries along with friends at the Upper Room catering to the poor, immigrants and refugees. As a nature photographer, she can often be found out on a trail with her husband Scott, often on her knees or belly, inspecting some tiny living thing. Amazed at the beauty of nature and the Divine Presence in all of it, she records her thoughts in a weekly Substack in essays called Walking on God. She also uses her own and Scott’s images to illustrate music used in liturgies at the Upper Room. You can reach Denise at denisehstoner@aol.com, and you can read her Substack at https://denisehackertstoner.substack.com/
Ireland “where everyone is valued” inclusive and diverse -
… Where All voices are heard!”
I am grateful for Catherine Connolly and her vision for my homeland!
As a member of the Association of Roman Catholic Women Priests walking in the footsteps of Brigit of Kildare, I believe there is a thread connecting us with our cherished Celtic tradition and a new vision of inclusivity, diversity and equality that offers hope for our world today!
Today, I called my brother, Patrick, who served in Vietnam, to share my gratitude for his service.
I offer this prayerful blessing for Patrick and for all veterans—those who returned home, those still carrying invisible wounds, and those who never made it back.
Patrick was drafted after high school.
In 1966, I had entered the convent and was learning the basics of religious life—nunhood 101—while my brother, like thousands of young soldiers, was thousands of miles away in harm’s way.
He served with the 101st Airborne Division. He wrote home a few times from Vietnam—just enough for us to know that things were bad, though he didn’t say much. He was hit once by shrapnel, thankfully not a serious injury, and he finished his full tour.
I wrote to him assuring him that the nuns were praying for him and for all those in the war.
In those days, we had no access to TV or newspapers in the convent, so I did not see the daily horrors of war the rest of the world watched. I only prayed and hoped for his safe return.
By grace, Patrick came home without visible scars.
It wasn’t until years later that we discovered a medal of honor tucked away in a box in the garage—something he never mentioned. He rarely talked about Vietnam, not to me, and not to our parents. Like so many veterans, he carried his memories privately.
He served his country honorably, returned home, married Valerie, and stayed close to family and friends.
So today, I remember my brother, and I remember all veterans—those who returned and rebuilt their lives quietly, those who carry wounds that the world cannot see, and those who paid the ultimate price.
A Blessing for Veterans
Loving God,
We ask your blessing on our veterans,
on those who served in distant lands,
on those who returned home changed forever,
and on those who gave their lives.
Bless those who still struggle with the memories of war,
those who bear scars—visible and invisible—
and those whose nights are too often filled with disturbing dreams.
Heal every wound:
the body’s pain, the spirit’s ache, the silent struggles of the heart.
Bless the families who waited, who prayed, who worried,
and who grieve.
May our gratitude not be limited to a single day
or to words alone.
Give us courage to work for peace and justice,
that no one has to engage in war again.
May we honor our veterans service
by building a world worthy of their sacrifice.
God of compassion and God of peace,
wrap our veterans in your tender embrace
and hold in eternal light those who have gone home to you.
“This book serves as an invitation to discover greater cohesion and human solidarity on a resource-depleted planet. It arrives at a critical juncture in our planetary history. As Thomas Berry poignantly reminded us: ‘We will go into the future as a single sacred community, or we will all perish in the desert.’”—From the foreword by Ilia Delio, author, The Not-Yet God
“Unity and Harmony is a timely and inspiring call to awaken ecological consciousness within and beyond faith traditions. Rooted in a relational understanding of reality, this work courageously moves toward creating a new ecospirituality that honors the sacred interconnectedness of all life. It offers a prophetic challenge to explore new pathways of human solidarity and systemic transformation to foster the fullness of life in a more just and compassionate world.” —Rev. Dr. Bridget Mary Meehan, Global Ministries University, People's Catholic Seminary
The great problem of our time, according to Victorino Pérez Prieto, is superficiality—living on the surface, indifferent to Reality, unaware of our relationship with everything. The consequences are both spiritual and existential, since they directly threaten the health of our planet and all its creatures. Science, philosophers, the intuitions of the mystics, the “green” tradition in Christianity, and the wisdom of the great religious traditions all point to the interrelationship of all things. Pope Francis confirmed this perspective inLaudato Si’,describing reality as a seamless garment, where everything is connected and intertwined. This is the essential principle of ecology, and it is the basis inUnity and Harmonyfor a comprehensive ecospirituality that meets the challenge of our time.
Victorino Pérez Prietoreceived his doctorate in theology from the Pontifical University of Salamanca and in philosophy from the University of Santiago de Compostela. He taught at the University of San Buenaventura (Bogotá) and at the University of La Salle, Madrid. An authority on Raimon Panikkar, he is the author of many books, of which this is his first English translation.
I am looking forward to reading Pastor Jimmy Watson's new book!
Christianity is collapsing under its own weight. In much of its institutional, localized, and individualized forms, the church has become a bastion of heavy-handed dogma and unrelenting limitations. Its ethos appeals primarily to those who see no other option but to get in line and stay in their lane. There is no shortage of thinkers that would love to forge a new path through this malaise. As a pastor who has witnessed firsthand the last thirty-five years of this quandary, Jimmy R. Watson stumbled upon a philosophical approach—an attitude—that could help the church throw off its ankle weights so it can run the race of faith with freedom and flexibility. After reading the late Daniel Dennett’s comment about “Religion Lite” in Atlantic Monthly in late summer of 2023, Watson thought that just as we are being asked to leave behind a lighter carbon footprint, maybe we should consider leaving behind a lighter Christian footprint. From that moment on, he began writing these essays, all of which reflect a Christianity that is less heavy-handed and more light-hearted, less constraining and more creative, less oppressive and more open, for a twenty-first-century church.
The Vatican’s Dignitas Infinita (2024), issued by the Dicastery for the Doctrine of the Faith, reaffirms the inalienable dignity of every human being. Yet, by condemning gender transition and trans identities, it reinforces a structural exclusion that contradicts the Gospel’s message of inclusion. This article reflects on how such a position prevents trans people from fully living their ecclesial citizenship and responding to their callings within the Church.
Universal Dignity, Practical Exclusion
From the very beginning, Christian faith has proclaimed that every person is created in the image and likeness of God (Gen. 1:26–27). When dignity is conditioned by body, identity or conformity to cultural norms, however, it ceases to be unconditional. Dignitas Infinita, signed by Cardinal Víctor Manuel Fernández and approved by Pope Francis, falls into that contradiction by declaring that “gender theory” and “sex-change interventions” are contrary to human dignity.
Such statements raise a theological and pastoral wall that marginalizes trans people from the fullness of life in the Church. If human dignity is truly ontological, as the document itself states, it cannot depend on one’s body or on how a person embodies identity. When the body becomes a condition for belonging, the very meaning of baptism as unconditional membership in the People of God is eroded.
Human experience, especially the experience of trans people, also reveals something sacred. Each journey of transition is one of inner reconciliation, truth and self-acceptance. To deny this experience is to deny that grace acts in the margins, where it often shines most clearly.
Across many Christian communities and pastoral settings, gender transition is recognized as a profoundly healing process. To pastorally accompany it is not to embrace an ideology, but to recognize that God acts in the concrete history of each person. True dignity is not imposed; it is discovered in encounter.
Incomplete Ecclesial Citizenship
The Second Vatican Council renewed the vision of the People of God, teaching that all the baptized share in Christ’s priestly, prophetic and royal mission. Yet for many trans people, that participation remains incomplete.
In practice, their ecclesial citizenship is limited by many barriers: the forced use of legal names in sacramental records, exclusion from lay ministries, or refusal to recognize their identities in liturgical spaces. Each of these obstacles carries the same message: “Your dignity depends on fitting a body you did not choose.”
This practical exclusion contradicts the theology of baptism and communion. If in Christ “there is neither male nor female” (Gal. 3:28), how can the Church still build walls around gender? The refusal to recognize trans people not only wounds them, it impoverishes the entire Church by silencing gifts and vocations that could enrich the community.
Silenced Vocations
Dignitas Infinita says nothing about trans people and vocation. Yet, by rejecting their bodies and identities, it effectively denies their right to discern a call from God. In Christian tradition, vocation has never been limited by social norms. God calls freely, often in ways that surprise institutions.
Many trans people feel a deep desire to serve God in religious life or ordained ministry, but they encounter structures that cannot imagine their existence. When the Church assumes that certain bodies or identities are incompatible with discipleship, it forgets that the Spirit blows where it wills.
The recent recognition of Brother Christian Matson’s vocation in the Diocese of Lexington, Kentucky shows that grace can open paths, even in the face of resistance. His story as a trans man accepted as a hermit after more than a decade of discernment demonstrates that fidelity to Christ is not defined by biology, but by love and commitment.
Vocation, as a response to divine love, cannot be silenced by fear of what is new. Every time a trans person is turned away from serving, the Church wounds not only that person, but the Body of Christ itself, refusing one of its own members.
Bodies That Reveal Grace
The internal tension of Dignitas Infinita is striking. On one hand, the document compassionately speaks of people affected by poverty, violence or migration. Yet that same compassion is not extended to trans people, who are described as products of an ideology. This selectivity undermines the universality of human dignity and turns a pastoral message into a doctrinal boundary.
The Gospel is not revealed in ideal bodies, but in wounded ones. The Risen Christ showed his scars as signs of glory (Jn. 20:27). In the same way, trans bodies transformed by truth-seeking and the pain of exclusion can be signs of divine grace at work. To deny their worth is to deny part of the Incarnation itself.
A Church faithful to the Christ who touches wounds and allows others to touch his own must look again at the bodies it has marginalized. Recognizing trans dignity is not about following a cultural trend; it is about returning to the heart of the Gospel, which is love without condition.
A Call to Ecclesial Conversion
Dignitas Infinita aimed to be an ethical light in a fragmented world, yet it has become a wall for those most in need of belonging. Even so, the same Spirit that inspired its drafting can move us toward a deeper understanding.
True Christian dignity does not distinguish between those who fit and those who don’t. It either includes everyone, or it ceases to be divine. The Church cannot proclaim inclusion while refusing to recognize trans people. The pastoral conversion we need today will not come from new documents, but from communities that see with the eyes of the Risen Christ: with compassion, openness and courage.
The reign of God excludes no one. If the Church seeks to be the living sign of God’s reign, it must allow trans voices to be part of its song, their wounds to be seen as sources of grace, and their vocations to be welcomed as gifts of the Spirit. Only then will infinite dignity cease to be conditional and become a lived reality!
Spanish:
La Dignitas Infinita del Vaticano (2024), emitida por el Dicasterio para la Doctrina de la Fe, reafirma la dignidad inalienable de todo ser humano. Sin embargo, al condenar la transición de género y las identidades trans, refuerza una exclusión estructural que contradice el mensaje evangélico de inclusión. Este artículo reflexiona sobre cómo esta postura impide a las personas trans vivir plenamente su ciudadanía eclesial y responder a su llamado dentro de la Iglesia.
Dignidad universal, exclusión práctica
Desde sus inicios, la fe cristiana ha proclamado que toda persona es creada a imagen y semejanza de Dios (Gén. 1,26-27). Sin embargo, cuando la dignidad está condicionada por el cuerpo, la identidad, o la conformidad con las normas culturales, deja de ser incondicional. La Dignitas Infinita, firmada por el Cardenal Víctor Manuel Fernández y aprobada por el Papa Francisco, cae en esta contradicción al declarar que la “teoría de género” y las “intervenciones de cambio de sexo” son contrarias a la dignidad humana. Tales declaraciones levantan un muro teológico y pastoral que margina a las personas trans de la plenitud de la vida en la Iglesia. Si la dignidad humana es verdaderamente ontológica, como afirma el propio documento, no puede depender del cuerpo ni de cómo una persona encarna su identidad. Cuando el cuerpo se convierte en condición de pertenencia, se erosiona el significado mismo del bautismo como pertenencia incondicional al Pueblo de Dios.
La experiencia humana, especialmente la de las personas trans, también revela algo sagrado. Cada camino de transición es un camino de reconciliación interior, verdad y autoaceptación. Negar esta experiencia es negar que la gracia actúa en los márgenes, donde a menudo brilla con mayor claridad.
En muchas comunidades cristianas y entornos pastorales, la transición de género se reconoce como un proceso profundamente sanador. Acompañarla pastoralmente no es abrazar una ideología, sino reconocer que Dios actúa en la historia concreta de cada persona. La verdadera dignidad no se impone; se descubre en el encuentro.
Ciudadanía eclesial incompleta
El Segundo Concilio Vaticano renovó la visión del Pueblo de Dios, enseñando que todos los bautizados participan en la misión sacerdotal, profética y real de Cristo. Sin embargo, para muchas personas trans, esa participación sigue siendo incompleta.
En la práctica, su ciudadanía eclesial se ve limitada por numerosas barreras: el uso forzado de nombres legales en los registros sacramentales, la exclusión de los ministerios laicos, o la negativa a reconocer sus identidades en los espacios litúrgicos. Cada uno de estos obstáculos transmite el mismo mensaje: “Tu dignidad depende de que te adaptes a un cuerpo que no has elegido”.
Esta exclusión práctica contradice la teología del bautismo y la comunión. Si en Cristo “no hay varón ni mujer” (Gal. 3,28), ¿cómo puede la Iglesia seguir construyendo muros en torno al género? La negativa a reconocer a las personas trans no sólo las hiere, sino que empobrece a toda la Iglesia al silenciar dones y vocaciones que podrían enriquecer a la comunidad.
Vocaciones silenciadas
Dignitas Infinita no dice nada sobre las personas trans y la vocación. Sin embargo, al rechazar sus cuerpos e identidades, se les niega efectivamente el derecho a discernir el llamado de Dios. En la tradición cristiana, la vocación nunca ha estado limitada por las normas sociales. Dios llama libremente, a menudo de maneras que sorprenden a las instituciones.
Muchas personas trans sienten un profundo deseo de servir a Dios en la vida religiosa o en el ministerio ordenado, pero se encuentran con estructuras que no pueden concebir su existencia. Cuando la Iglesia asume que ciertos cuerpos o identidades son incompatibles con el discipulado, olvida que el Espíritu sopla donde quiere.
El reciente reconocimiento de la vocación del Hermano Christian Matson en la Diócesis de Lexington, Kentucky, demuestra que la gracia puede abrir caminos, incluso ante la resistencia. Su historia como hombre trans aceptado como ermitaño tras más de una década de discernimiento demuestra que la fidelidad a Cristo no se define por la biología, sino por el amor y el compromiso.
La vocación, como respuesta al amor divino, no puede ser silenciada por el miedo a lo nuevo. Cada vez que una persona trans es rechazada para servir, la Iglesia hiere no sólo a esa persona, sino al propio Cuerpo de Cristo, rechazando a uno de sus miembros.
Cuerpos que revelan la gracia
La tensión interna de Dignitas Infinita es impactante. Por un lado, el documento habla con compasión de las personas afectadas por la pobreza, la violencia o la migración. Sin embargo, esa misma compasión no se extiende a las personas trans, a quienes se describe como producto de una ideología. Esta selectividad socava la universalidad de la dignidad humana y convierte un mensaje pastoral en una frontera doctrinal.
El Evangelio no se revela en cuerpos ideales, sino en cuerpos heridos. Cristo resucitado mostró sus cicatrices como signos de gloria (Jn. 20,27). Del mismo modo, los cuerpos trans transformados por la búsqueda de la verdad y el dolor de la exclusión pueden ser signos de la gracia divina en acción. Negar su valor es negar parte de la Encarnación misma.
Una Iglesia fiel a Cristo que toca las heridas y permite que otros toquen las suyas debe reconsiderar los cuerpos que ha marginado. Reconocer la dignidad trans no se trata de seguir una moda cultural; se trata de volver a la esencia del Evangelio, que es el amor incondicional.
Un llamado a la conversión eclesial
Dignitas Infinita pretendía ser una luz ética en un mundo fragmentado, pero se ha convertido en un muro para quienes más necesitan pertenencia. Aun así, el mismo Espíritu que inspiró su redacción puede impulsarnos hacia una comprensión más profunda.
La verdadera dignidad cristiana no distingue entre quienes encajan y quienes no. O incluye a todos, o deja de ser divina. La Iglesia no puede proclamar la inclusión si se niega a reconocer a las personas trans. La conversión pastoral que necesitamos hoy no provendrá de nuevos documentos, sino de comunidades que vean con los ojos de Cristo resucitado: con compasión, apertura y valentía.
El reino de Dios no excluye a nadie. Si la Iglesia busca ser signo vivo del reino de Dios, debe permitir que las voces trans formen parte de su canto, que sus heridas sean vistas como fuentes de gracia y que sus vocaciones sean acogidas como dones del Espíritu. ¡Sólo entonces la dignidad infinita dejará de ser condicional y se convertirá en una realidad vivida!
