+Z’ev

Today’s assigned readings:

1 Samuel 28:3-20, Acts 15:1-11, Mark 5:1-20

They came to Jesus and saw the demoniac sitting there, clothed and in his right mind, the very man who had had the legion; and they were afraid. Then they began to beg Jesus to leave their neighborhood.
Mark 5:15, 17

This calls to my mind a brief email dialogue I shared with Fr James Alison after he preached at St Gregory of Nyssa Church back in (c.)2000. Fr James wanted to point out the “clothed and in his right mind” phrase as the key point. The demoniac (whatever we make that out to mean) had been living naked and crazy and was now “clothed and in his right mind”, a sign of inclusion back in the “normal” world. The demoniac’s condition had parted him from the world of his friends, his family. Jesus’ healing restores him to those relationships. Fr James wanted to explore this as a metaphor for how Gay people can be perceived as outcasts - especially in certain parts of his own ecclesial community. My problem was - then as now - that I knew little of that persecution that is sadly so common among almost all gay men and lesbians to some degree or other.

When I came out my parents were confused, but loving. Over time they were understanding. They were always supportive. My friends figured out I was gay before I did. My Episcopal congregation in NYC was one in which straights and gays played well together. My workplace was managed by friends. My college (NYU) had a very supportive community. My fraternity had no issues. When I sat down in peer counselling sessions with students at NYU, many students experiencing a tougher time, looked at me as a couple might look at a celibate priest to whom they had come for advice about their marriage.

Of course, over the last 25 years or so, I’ve had more annoying experiences: but most of them are that - annoying. In fact, I’ve had more trouble with the gay community than I’ve had with homophobia.

And that’s why I’ve added verse 17 to the quote at the head of the post: the ex-demoniac’s friends “began to beg Jesus to leave their neighbourhood.”

Why to Queer people of faith get such a bad rap among other queers?

I ask that question with two major caveats:

1) Much of this is only a problem in the USA. Our politics and religion are so polarised as to be deadly. Even my straight Canadian friends have some trouble understanding us sometimes.
2) Part of the answer is so very obvious as to be blindingly so. My own journey into Orthodoxy is a prime example: Sometimes the Queer-Faith relationship is terribly unhealthy, unsalvific.

I’ll return to the second one later, but with those two on the table, let’s move forward.

Most of my queer friends would describe themselves as “spiritual but not religious” although a few would not even say “spiritual.” I can’t really tell the difference. A few have some vaguely spiritual sense of something, but most don’t have that at all. What’s more, they seem to get a long perfectly well without it. But should the topic of religion fall into the discussion they go all to pieces. The recent death of Tammy Faye pulled all of this into focus for me.

Having watched a six-part documentary on her son, Jay, and his ministry with Revolution Church, I knew that not only was Jay’s church gay-friendly but so also was Jay’s family. The PTL downfall in the 80s caused a major shift in their attitudes. This was amazing to watch. Further back, in the 80s when people with AIDS were considered pariahs, Tammy would have them on her talk show and urge Christians to have compassion.

Like any humans, the Bakkers didn’t have a perfect record of Unconditional Love: but you could see they were working on it.

When Tammy died the loudest voices in the gay community were those than mourned her passing and remembered her acts of love. But the next-loudest were the voices of excoriation raised against those who mourned. Tammy was a Christian and so anathema. Many who were previously “spiritual but not religious” decided that “religious” (cuz that’s what she was!) was right out. If you were mourning her death you might as well have been as a Jew mourning the passing of Hitler, or at least someone as horrid.

Like I said, some part of this is understandable. I have friends whose families sent them to “ex gay” treatment camps in the name of their gods. I have friends whose pastors told them they had to shove all that into a little box and “act like men” or “act like women”. I know a good many Christians for whom gay sex is the one unforgivable sin - despite the fact that they allow for divorce which Jesus clearly didn’t like at all. Even the Orthodox Church allows for divorce and remarriage in certain circumstances - although it is more common than many people wish to admit - but, “local option” aside, they generally don’t like out gay people and certainly not coupled ones.

Yet there are huge swaths of Christianity that are welcoming, supportive and loving. These generally don’t get the press of the other side though. When there is a gay event in some city, you can be certain that anti-gay protesters will be there and they will get the media. Rarely do pro-gay Christians show up at an anti-gay event (or even a gay-neutral even hosted by an anti-gay organisation) and even more-rare would be favourable media coverage of them. One major exception is Soulforce which recently visited Christian colleges around the country to advocate for inclusion. But I’d love to see a “God Loves Fags” prayer vigil that follows (e.g.) the Pope around the world or that shows up whenever the various Anglican bishops of Africa parade around the US. And I’d love for them to get the kind of media coverage the hate-mongers get.

But that last won’t happen - even if the banners are larger than an IMAX screen and 3D.

So what do we (Queers of Faith) do?

As he was getting into the boat, the man who had been possessed by demons begged him that he might be with him. But Jesus refused, and said to him, “Go home to your friends, and tell them how much the Lord has done for you, and what mercy he has shown you.”
Mark 5:18-19

Well there’s always retreat. That works two ways - going back to the tombs of isolation should be an option. But we can always retreat into our own religious worlds and hide. I’ve tried it for five years. You know what? It sucks. If we’ve learned nothing over the last two millennia we need to accept the fact that it’s possible to learn. The argument goes like this: St Paul says x, y, and z. Therefore nothing can ever change. But what if we know more now than St Paul did? That’s not possible, comes the reply. Of course I don’t dictate these posts to a scribe any more I use a computer. St Paul didn’t know about computers. Nor about psychology. It’s a risk… but it’s possible that St Paul didn’t know something we do.

My own spiritual journey followed an easily charted path:

1. A confused young man comes out of the closet as gay.
2. The young man plunges headlong into an “active homosexual lifestyle,” by which he very often means an extreme version of the urban gay subculture…
3. The young man grows tired of all the problems he believes are inherent in such a lifestyle.
4. In a bold leap of logic and breaking with convention, the young man blames homosexuality itself for all his life’s woes.
5. The young man converts to ___ (insert dogmatic, conservative religion or philosophy here) which emphasizes guilt and strict obedience to clearly defined gender and sexual roles.
6. The young man tells his story to the world, rewriting his own life story in such a way that only a revisionist historian could love.

And since such stories are so very common - and so well reported - is it any wonder most Queers of Faith are treated as Uncle Toms?

That form of retreat is a failure, I’m here to say. It’s nice to be globally praised and affirmed. But it’s not *me* they were affirming - it was their own homophobia. And in the end, I realised I wasn’t condemning “the Gay Lifestyle”. Instead I was condemning the life I had lived. Me. My sins. Of course they were real and of course they sucked rotten eggs. But they were mine. Not sins of “The Gay”.

But the other form of retreat are just as bad: hiding in little secluded enclaves of gay-friendly and religion-friendly folks and not hanging out with anyone who might question either side of my reality.

Jesus says no to both of these options - the hyper-pious Phariseeism and the isolationism. They are both the same, really; mirror images of each other. Once clothed and in his right mind, Jesus sends him - with no religious instruction at all - back to his friends and family. That “no religious instruction” is important: the people are Gentiles, heathens.

Peter stood up and said to them, “My brothers, you know that in the early days God made a choice among you, that I should be the one through whom the Gentiles would hear the message of the good news and become believers.”
Acts 15:7

Nope, sorry Peter. I think you’re wrong there: Jesus was sending out Gentiles to the Gentiles and Samaritans and Greeks and Centurions for quite a while!

And so Jesus sends us out, as well: to our lives as Rehab Workers of Faith or our lives as Dykes on Bikes of Faith or our lives as Retired Rectors of Faith or our lives as Park Commission Members of Faith or our lives as Bread Delivery Truck Drivers of Faith whatever it may be… not to be like everyone else but to be the one through whom our friends and family might “the message of the good news”: God loves us so much that… well… you know the rest.

Go tell them.