With my non-LGBTIQ-affirming background, I was determined to have minimum contact with Stephen to prevent his controversial thinking from “contaminating” me. However, it was virtually impossible to avoid him completely because Stephen taught research methodology, a compulsory course designed to prepare students for their field study.

In his class, I was exposed to the most uncanny and controversial facets of Stephen’s thinking: theologically based affirmation of LGBTIQ people. This only gave me more reason to shun him. However, the more I tried to seclude myself from LGBTIQ issues, the more inquisitive I became, and more interested in Stephen as a person.

How could a man love another man, or a woman love another woman? Why did a person choose to identify as transwoman or transman? Are these justifiable? My mind was inundated with many questions.

In November 2016, I could not stand my curiosity any longer and decided to attend the seminary’s international LGBTIQ and theology conference. There, I was surprised to see that there was no difference between LGBTIQ and non-LGBTIQ individuals except for their sexuality and gender. I was even more surprised to see them solemnly worshipping God. I eventually learned that there was no reason to demonize LGBTIQ people on whatever grounds, including the theological one. I later attended a queer theology class and learned that our theological conceptions about gender and sexuality were social constructs.

One month later, Stephen started dialysis because of a kidney problem. It became routine until the end of his life. Instead of backing off because of his ailment, he continued to march with LGBTIQ people in their fight for justice.

In 2017, Stephen asked me to help organize our annual conference. The theme was “His-tory, Her-story, Our Story: Doing theology with LGBTIQ perspectives”. I was surprised, because although I had reconciled faith and sexuality, my knowledge in queer theology was far from sufficient, as I was just beginning to study it. Nevertheless, I reluctantly took up the opportunity, assuring myself that I could study queer theology along the way.

Stephen officially opened the JTS Centre for Gender and Sexuality Studies in 2018, capping his years of struggling, persistence and efforts to make the seminary a safe, open and affirming place for LGBTIQ people. It was also the prophetic realization of Stephen’s dream that dated back five years.

When in 2013 he went to Busan, South Korea, to attend the 10th Assembly of the World Council of Churches, he introduced himself as a representative of the center, which did not exist yet. He was still fighting for its official establishment.

Stephen’s most momentous breakthrough was the inclusion of queer theology into the seminary’s curriculum, which made JTS the first theological seminary in Indonesia to offer a queer theology class.

Stephen retired from JTS in May 2020, ending his 28-year teaching career. However, his passion never diminished and just seven months after his retirement, he and I, along with some friends, founded Tjapoeng Lembayung Nusantara, a foundation that aims to continue his work on sexual and gender diversity post-JTS.

One of Stephen’s approaches to LGBTIQ issues is through mental health. He spoke about the prevalence of suicidal ideation and action among unaffirmed and rejected LGBTIQ youths. On several occasions, he explained how human perception worked, linking it to the stigmatization of LGBTIQ people as deviant, immoral and irreligious; that these were not based on facts, but mere perceptions.

Stephen’s activism did not go unchallenged. In 2015, the paparazzi took pictures of the Queer Film Festival held at JTS. These photographs went viral and elicited backlash from churches, prompting many church figures to demand that the seminary halt these kinds of programs. However, Stephen was not dismayed. Never did he give up hosting LGBTIQ events, and he continued to take the lead on numerous LGBTIQ-related programs on campus.

Stephen’s reputation was often challenged because of his involvement with LGBTIQ issues. He once told me that he was banned from preaching in some churches because of his LGBTIQ-affirming views. However, he did not care about the restriction. He understood the risks of being an LGBTIQ ally, yet he boldly embraced them and believed that he was emulating Jesus Christ in doing so.

During his ministry, Jesus stood for the poor and marginalized groups, rather than privileged clerics, which got him into trouble and eventually led to his death. Stephen, in his endeavor to follow in Jesus’ footsteps, spoke the optimum language of ministry: compassion, humanity and affirmation.

The Indonesian champion of queer theology died on Nov. 8, 2021 and was buried on Wednesday. So long, Pak Steve. May the guardian angels escort you as you transition to another consciousness, may God welcome you in His embrace, and may we who have been left behind be given the strength to journey forward.

***

The writer is program coordinator at the Jakarta Theological Seminary Centre for Gender, Sexuality and Trauma Studies and a cofounder of Tjapoeng Lembayung Nusantara, a foundation that specializes in LGBTIQ inclusion, interfaith amity, and environment and disaster response.

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