“Theologically, community and relationships are the entire basis of my faith and the religion that I serve as a minister. I don’t know how we would do anything but work for other people’s rights and inherent dignity.” – Reverend Chris Jimmerson, a faith leader built, sustained, and guided by community
The word “community” can often feel like a nebulous, impossible-to-define concept.
We’re divided into communities by various identities, professions, or belief systems. Our neighborhoods are communities. Our public schools have their own community ecosystem. Some might consider their own family a type of community.
Not to trot out the Latin, but:
“Community” comes from the word “communis.” Communis comes from a combination of the Latin prefix con- (which means “together”) and the word munis (which has to do with performing services).
“Community” ties us together in service to each other.
Since the beginning of humankind, it’s kept us alive. As we rise to meet the everpresent dangers of weaponized religion and totalitarianism sweeping across our state and nation, it is only our care and love for each other – our emphasis on community and people power – that can defend our rights and freedoms.
Just Texas, a Texas Freedom Network program founded to organize and mobilize progressive people of faith for social justice, is a community of faith leaders, people of faith, and people of non-faith coming together as a strong foil to the religious right’s rhetoric.
Reverend Chris Jimmerson is part of our Just Texas community as the Co-Lead Minister at one of Just Texas’ Reproductive Freedom Congregations, the First Unitarian Universalist Church of Austin. His work empowering and creating communities has spanned decades, from his Southern Baptist upbringing to his activism during the AIDS crisis and time in the theatre world.
We sat down with Reverend Chris Jimmerson to talk about his ministry journey, keeping hope in Texas, and how his faith is guided by social justice:
Can you tell me how faith and religion influenced you as a child?
I was raised very fundamentalist Southern Baptist. I rejected that doctrine at an early age, but the values around loving one another and caring for the stranger — things in the Bible that some folks try not to acknowledge — have stuck with me since I was a child. I carried them into my life when I discovered Unitarian Universalism.
My parents were supportive of other people as a part of their religion. They would donate to causes, help provide food at shelters, that sort of thing. So even though it was a very different religion than I’m a part of now and a very different belief system, they introduced me to many of the values I’m led by today.
Was there any pushback when you decided to join the UU church?
When I was a little kid I told my mom I would be a minister when I grew up.
But when I rejected that [Southern Baptist] belief system, I left religion behind altogether for a while.
When I look back now, I was always involved in nonprofits and activism – I was part of ACT UP during the AIDS epidemic and part of Queer Nation. I did theatre that was always similar to Theatre of the Oppressed (a theatrical tool created for community education that’s been used for political and social activism, community building, therapy, and much more) with a message behind it. In this odd sort of way, I was constructing a very secular ministry and community until I found Unitarian Universalism.
How do you feel the community piece of faith spaces can be used to promote social justice values like access to abortion, LGBTQIA+ equality, and beyond?
Unitarian Universalism has rejected the creeds and dogma that are found in the belief systems we grew out of.
Instead, we embrace a relational faith that’s based on covenants: Promises we make to one another about how we’ll be together in the ways of love. One of our principles is to affirm and promote the inherent dignity of all people.
Theologically, community and relationships are the entire basis of my faith and the religion that I serve as a minister. I don’t know how we would do anything but work for other people’s rights and inherent dignity. The religious community and faith community drive us to get outside of the church walls and work with folks who are building the beloved community in our greater world.
Doing social justice work without some underlying community of support is almost impossible to sustain over the long run. I saw this during the height of the AIDS epidemic while so many people were dying. People burn out, and it’s too hard without each other.
As we’ve seen at the Texas Legislature, the setbacks can be extremely painful. None of us has enough power and resilience alone. But together, we can multiply our power. Together we can provide one another with resilience.
You have to have community. Community is the only way.
There were some real wins we can celebrate [during the 2023 Texas Legislative session]. I remember being at the Capitol and our partners saying: “We are here because we love one another, and we love this state, and we love this community, and we’re not going to allow it to be taken away from anyone. Not one person.”
How have you seen the 2023 Texas Legislative session take a toll on your congregants and fellow activists?
It was tough because there were so many losses, particularly for our trans siblings. I especially saw the toll there, and I think there was a toll for the entire LGBTQIA+ community. Even though most of the negativity was focused on the trans community, it is an attack on all of us.
While we didn’t see as many attacks legislatively on women and people who can give birth’s bodily autonomy, bodily autonomy is bodily autonomy. When they attack any group of us, they attack all of us.
But there were some real wins we can celebrate. I remember being at the Capitol and our partners saying: “We are here because we love one another, and we love this state, and we love this community, and we’re not going to allow it to be taken away from anyone. Not one person.”
That was so powerful and sustaining for all of us to remember that one legislative session is just one legislative session.
One of the underlying things that’s taught in my faith is that it’s not really about the outcome. It’s about the fact that we’re doing what’s right and we’re living our values no matter what.
The progressive movement has evolved a lot in the way we speak about the transgender community, abortion, and so many things. In your years in the UU and wider social justice communities, have you seen a shift take place that’s made it easier to talk openly about these topics?
Especially in the last few years, I’ve seen a big change in our community. I think one of the biggest struggles for my religious community is that folks tend to be perfectionists, and they just want to get it right. So if they accidentally use the wrong pronoun or say something the wrong way, they get really mad at themselves, and I keep having to say, “If we’re going to do this work, we’re going to make mistakes. We’re always going to. We’re going to have to forgive ourselves and each other and keep going.”
We do a sexuality education program called “Our Whole Lives,” which we shortened to OWL, just to be cute. We did a service to educate the congregation, and the woman from the congregation who taught the adult curriculum in our faith-based sexuality class brought this 3D model of a clitoris and showed it during the worship service. She told me she was going to do this and I was like “Okay, well, can’t do that at every church!”
But I thought it was great! And I tell that story to illustrate that it has gotten easier because I didn’t get anyone complaining to me after the service. I think people were proud to have that education in a faith space.
Do you think people have been forced to think and talk about abortion access and reproductive health more because we’re losing our rights?
I think so. And I also think it’s pushed some folks who might’ve been on the fence to think more deeply.
When folks see how these policies hurt others, they start to say “Wow, there’s a real potential for harm here.” I would never wish for any of our rights to be taken, but I think that one side effect is that people are engaged in social justice who never were before.
What are your faith values regarding abortion? How do those values necessitate that people should have access to abortion?
Again, one of our core values is the inherent worth and dignity of every person, and justice and equity for all of us. We also have a collective liberation theology that we can only reach our full potential together because we are all connected “in a vast tapestry,” as Martin Luther King Jr. said.
If bodily autonomy is taken away from someone, that’s a violation of my core faith.
I don’t know how you can believe in justice, equity, inherent worth, and dignity and then say that a person shouldn’t have control over their own body. That is the very core of being human and being able to have our inherent worth and dignity.
We want to thank Reverend Chris Jimmerson and the entire Just Texas community for their dedication to destigmatizing abortion and reproductive health in faith spaces, as well as their relentless pursuit of LGBTQIA+ equality across our state.
The presence of faith communities in the social justice movement builds our collective power while creating a strong counter-narrative to the religious right’s oppressive rhetoric. We are forever in this fight together.
Find your place in our community by visiting tfn.org and justtx.org today!
