by Mia Kerick
I can relate to that feeling.
“But I gotta thank Martine cuz she called my folks. Outed me to my Dad, like it was her place to do that.” He chuckles, but it’s more like a shame-on-Mrs. Martine snicker than real laughter. “She expected my parents to freak out on me—maybe ship me off to one of those ex-gay camps—but they were cool. That phone call let my mom know that the reason I was wigging out up in my room for the past week was cuz I thought I was a sinner. Like a big time abomination. As if God had already said, ‘there ain’t no saving your ass, Gandy’ and I’d bought it, hook, line and sinker.”
“You were a little bit younger than me when it happened to you.”
“I guess, a little bit. Like I was fourteen, so maybe I wasn’t quite as up on the ways of the world as you are at sixteen.” When he laughs, I know he’s cracked a real joke this time. “But since last year when I left Our Way and St. Mark’s Church, Ma and me, and Dad too, we’ve learned a lot about Jesus. And seriously, man, He doesn’t hate you at all. It’s not His way.” David blinks a couple times, and I think he’s holding back the emotions that come with memories of his own ordeal two years ago. “Come on, let’s check out the proof again. And I’m not saying I’m like some big authority on the subject, or that I understand it all—my study of all this is a work in progress—but I’ll go over what I’ve figured out. Gladly.”
We both direct our attention back to the outline, first looking at what David has labeled as number one, “The big ones/AKA The Clobber Passages.”
“These biblical teachings seem to condemn homosexual relations, yeah?” He runs his index finger over the top of the outline and, strangely, I find myself fighting the urge to touch his hand.
“The Sodom story is a big one,” I agree, silently reading the first example from the outline. “It clobbers me over the head, for sure. Everybody thinks that God killed off all the people there for being homosexual.”
“But, see, Sodom and Gomorrah weren’t destroyed because the people there were having loving same-sex relationships. God destroyed them because the men who lived there tried to humiliate and gang rape some guests, who also happened to be male. They were acting super lustful and aggressive—that is what they did wrong. And all of the people of Sodom were also condemned for being arrogant and inhospitable, and for not being helpful to the needy.”
“Okay, now tell me about Leviticus again.” I badly want to remember every single solitary thing he’s saying.
“That’s where God condemned gay sex as an abomination, which sure sounds harsh.”
“But you said before that back then abomination just meant ‘don’t do it’.”
“Yeah, and lots of other things that are fine by Christians today were also called abominations, like eating, or even touching, certain foods and cutting your hair in certain ways. And back then, those rules had a purpose—to help the Israelites understand that the world had rules that were reliable, and to set them apart from others.” I like the look in David’s eyes when he explains things to me. It’s softer and less in-your-face than usual, as if he’s confident that he can see the big picture from where he sits. “But, the way I see it, is the big deal on this one is that Jesus died to free us from all those rules. And if we don’t have to live by all of those laws anymore, we can live to fulfill the important one—the law of love.”
I glance down at the outline. “And then there’s Romans 1. That passage is from the New Testament and actually condemns shameful lusts.”
“But the condemnation is for having too much lust, not for the homosexual acts, themselves. Back then, same-sex acts weren’t regarded as part of loving relationships but more as too much desire for sex, because most of the people who were having sex with others of the same gender were already married. And, dude, don’t forget that there are also all kinds of translation issues that cloud up the water on this topic.”
“Is all this information in the book you gave me?”
“It’s also in these.” David pulls a pile of stapled packets down onto his lap and flips through them. Handing me a few packets, he continues talking without detailing what they’re about. “And take the role of women in the church—it’s changed a lot, because culture has changed in terms of how women are looked at by society. And I, personally, don’t think it’s fair to pick and choose on the rules—like, women speaking in church is okay now, but homosexual relationships remain wrong. That’s bull shit.”
“So you’re saying it’s hypocritical?” This is a lot to take in at once. But I know that if I can make myself believe what David is telling me, it will in many ways set me free.
“I kinda think it is, don’t you?” He doesn’t wait for my response. “And this is only one part of the big picture, Tony. But I wanted to tell you about these scriptural passages first because they’re the ones you’re gonna need to get past if you want to accept that same-sex relationships can be blessed.” He seems to suddenly come back from that faraway place—his eyes narrow a little bit and the smirk returns. “And you gotta know that there’s much more info that convinced Ma and Dad and me that same-sex intimacy inside of marriage is even good.”
Tolerated is one thing, good is another. “Um…good? I don’t know—that’s kind of tough to swallow.”
“Look, go home and finish the book and check out those papers I gave you, and let me know when you can come over here again. Next time I’ll show you my outline on celibacy.”
That makes me smile. “You sure know how to lure a guy in—celibacy talk.” I giggle, which surprises me. “And that was an LOL, in case you didn’t get it.”
“Dude, celibacy’s a gift, didn’t ya know? Next time you come over it’s gonna be all about life without sex.” He winks and then smiles back at me.
Strangely, this is when I feel it—a zing of attraction. But this time, it doesn’t come from the forbidden sight of muscular calves or broad shoulders. This little zing comes from my attraction to David’s whole person—his pointy face, his lanky body, his intelligence, even his sarcasm, and a lot for his compassion. But beyond those things, I decide that the zing comes from a true connection between us, as David and I share our deep love of God.
David walks me to the door, and then halfway down the walkway to my car.
“Thank your mom for the ice cream.”
“Sure, Tony.” I get another easy at-home-David smile, and then he heads back into the house.
I won’t say that I left with a spring in my step, but I will say I left David’s house with more hope than I had when I got there.
Intervention
On my way home from David’s house, I get a call from Laz. It seems that Our Way is holding a special meeting tonight because they want to talk with me as a group. I figure they’ve finally recognized the less than Christ like nature of their behavior towards me, and they want to explain, or maybe even apologize. I wonder if Mrs. Martine is aware of this gesture, which makes me a little hesitant to accept the invitation, but, nonetheless, I tell Laz I will pick him up at six.
When we arrive, the flameless candles are already lit, so to speak, and the gang’s all here, sitting in a circle and staring at me. There are two vacant seats—I assume they’re intended for Laz and me. As usual, Mrs. Martine is perched in her supervisory corner chair, and she lowers her knitting to observe as I enter. A tingle of anxiety rises up my spine, and it’s mixed with the sting of betrayal, as I’m not getting a “we are heartily sorry for having offended you, Anthony” vibe. Far from it, in fact. And judging by the way Laz’s eyes are glued to the floor and his lips are uncharacteristically sealed shut, I know for a fact my so-called best pal has sold me out.
Of all the Our Way youth group members, President Elizabeth, naturally, is the one who stands up to greet me. “Welcome back, Anthony. I know I speak for all of us when I say that we’ve missed you here.” My stomach churns despite her friendly greeting. There are times my gut has better instincts when it comes to detecting impending doom than my brain does, so I pa
y attention.
Everybody nods in agreement with the president of the youth group—the obvious exceptions are Rinaldo and Mrs. Martine.
“Uh….” Is my brilliant reply.
“We are your family in God, Anthony, and we understand the challenge you’re faced with.” She speaks slowly, like I’m a little kid. “Plus, we’ve all noticed that you seem to have made your decision regarding how you’re going to respond to your homosexual inclination, in that you have left the church and the youth group, and have started associating with known gays and lesbians.”
I think of David and heat rushes to my face. Within a split second, my head gets light and I feel dizzy. I’d certainly have dropped to the floor on my knees, which the members of Our Way would probably find fitting, if I hadn’t already been sitting down.
I think this is called “flying over the radar”. Not at all my style.
After looking at me more directly than I’m comfortable with, for far longer than I’m comfortable, Elizabeth continues. “I would like to start by referring to page thirteen of the Ministry to Persons with a Homosexual Inclination: Guidelines for Pastoral Care, which were determined at the United States Conferences of Catholic Bishops in 2006.”
As Elizabeth fumbles with her notecards, I remember the long computer print-out, which, at this very moment, is buried, unread, in the bottom drawer of my dresser. I now realize my fatal error in ignoring it. Had I read it, maybe I’d be better prepared for what I’m about to hear.
"It says, and I paraphrase, that a person with a homosexual inclination ought to receive all the help we can give him to live out the call to holiness. Answering this call will involve,” her fingers form air quotes, “‘much struggle and self-mastery, for following Jesus always means following the way of the Cross....’ Anthony, we are all here to help you in your struggle for self-mastery.”
I’d bet my life on the fact that Elizabeth, along with everybody else, is staring at me, but I can’t see it. I’ve placed my elbows on my knees and then my head in my hands, and I’m facing the floor, waiting for the rest.
Elizabeth continues, “And in the Pastoral Letter on Homosexuality, Bishop Thomas Daily quotes The Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, by writing,
‘although the particular inclination of the homosexual person is not a sin, it is a more or less strong tendency ordered toward an intrinsic moral evil; and this the inclination itself must be seen as an objective disorder.’” Having said her piece, she sighs audibly, adding, “We are holding tonight’s intervention to enlighten you, and to let you know that we are here to support you as you struggle with your disorder.”
At this point I look up and around me at all of the stern and worried eyes that are focused on my face, as I await the inevitable. I’ve been to an intervention before. I know what’s coming.
Emma, who’s sitting next to Elizabeth, snaps her gum once, stands up, and reads from a notecard in her hand. “The Apostle Paul says, in 1 Corinthians 6: 18-19, ‘So run away from a sexual sin. Every other sin that a man does is outside his body. But the one who sins sexually sins against his own body.’ You ought to know that your body is a temple for the Holy Spirit.” Her voice is an odd combination of matter-of-fact and know-it-all. Her part now played, Emma sits down, wearing an expression that’s far from humble.
I’m frozen—as in, absolutely numb.
Next, Eric stands and reads from his notecard a verse from the Old Testament. “Leviticus 18:22 ‘Do not practice homosexuality, having sex with another man as with a woman. It is a hated sin.’ ” His voice is inexpressive, as if he’s reading aloud from a menu. Despite my stupor, I can’t help but notice that each member of Our Way holds a matching hot pink notecard. I gather that this intervention is a well-planned event.
Rinaldo stands up to his full, impressive height and puffs out his chest—every inch of his huge frame on flagrant display—and I involuntarily clench my fists with wariness. His crumpled pink notecard falls from his hand, and then he stares at me with squinted eyes, his chin raised defiantly, like I sucker punched his Nana, or something equally horrific. “Sodom and Gomorrah got destroyed because of homosexuality, and God’ll destroy you too!” He drops back into his chair with a loud thud, but within a couple of seconds he shakes his head, again stands, whips his chair aside, and bolts up the stairs. I wonder if he pulls the door at the top of the stairs tightly closed.
It takes us a moment to absorb the extent of Rinaldo’s fury—in fact, everybody’s completely bowled over by it. But in addition to being stunned, I’m also admittedly intimidated. Rinaldo Vera is what I think of as hulking, which is not a desirable characteristic in one’s enemy. But before I’ve had a chance to categorize the more daunting points of The Incredible Hulk’s anger—I’ve observed it many times on YouTube reruns of the retro TV series—it’s Kerry’s turn to intervene in my life. She speaks in a voice that’s far more forthright than I’m accustomed to.
“In Romans 1, 18-27, the Apostle Paul discusses immoral sexual sin, as he talks about how people have turned from God, only wanting to do evil. And, like, when God let them go freely in their sin, they got sort of obsessed with sexual stuff.” Kerry’s forehead is perspiring even worse than mine. She seems titillated, more than than repulsed. “Women stopped having natural sex and started having sex with other women. In the same way, men stopped having natural sex and began wanting each other. Men did shameful things with other men.”
To say I’m embarrassed at hearing that particular biblical reference from the lips of a girl I’d gone apple picking with in kindergarten would be an understatement. I still, however, have the presence of mind to wonder if the very innocent Kerry has managed to figure out exactly what those “shameful things” two men do in bed actually are.
Even the homeschooled kid who usually sits alone in the corner has deemed it necessary to join the circle for this important event. I think it’s maybe the third time I’ve ever actually heard him speak. He reads a passage about how homosexuals will not inherit the Kingdom of God from the page of his small, hand-worn Bible that he’s marked with his pink notecard. And another first for the homeschooled kid—he establishes direct eye contact with me. I’ve got to give kudos to whatever-his-name-is for making progress in the social arena.
Beyond this point, the notecards are no longer referred to, but are, instead, simply held like props.
“Look at the male and female bodies, Anthony. It’s pretty obvious what God intended when he made us!” Like, duh! is implied in the speaker’s tone.
“It’s Adam and Eve, Del Vecchio, not Adam and Steve.”
“Sex is for making babies. When two guys can do that, then I’ll be all for gay sex and gay marriage.”
My head feels even lighter than before and I’m desperate to inhale some fresh outdoor air, but I continue to sit there like I’m super-glued to my chair.
Finally, when the suggestions have come full circle and we’re back to Elizabeth, she stands up and says in an even tone, “Anthony, you have now heard what we have to say. You have heard words from the Bible and words from our hearts, and you can see that we are so very here for you. I have one question for you: Is acting on your homosexual inclination worth the risk? You have everything to lose.” She sits down and crosses her legs primly, her lips pursed, and she bows her head.
Saint Elizabeth.
The rest of the Our Way youth group seems to gaze at me with one unified set of disconcerted eyes, and I experience a distinct “the tribe has spoken” moment, reminiscent of one of my all-time favorite classic television shows. The flameless candles flicker in the way I had long thought was an indication that God was here with us, listening and supporting our meeting. But I’d never imagined that a circle of my closest friends, in His presence, could make me feel so alone.
And then Laz, who has not spoken to this point, takes to his feet and offers the final appeal. His dark eyes are actually red-rimmed and wet. “Anthony, you’re like a bro to me—always have been, d
ude. So please don’t be gay anymore. My parents won’t let me hang out with you if you’re fixed on being a fag.”
What’s most devastating about Lazarus’s words isn’t the slur he uses—instead, it’s that I can tell his pain and his plea are both so genuine.
My gayness is hurting him…and it’s upsetting them.
Is it condemning me?
That’s when the room seems to start shaking, or maybe it’s my entire world that’s trembling. I push myself unsteadily to my feet and then stumble toward the stairs—all I can think of to do is to hide.
“Mind your language, please, Mr. Sinclair.” I hear Mrs. Martine, our worship leader, instruct Laz blandly. “We don’t say fag here at youth group.”
But you think it loud and clear.
Laz for the most part ignores her, and stands up. Then my longtime best friend rushes to my side and grabs my upper arm tightly enough to hurt. “Dude, gimme your keys and let me drive you home. You aren’t cool to get behind the wheel right now and I can—”
“Sit down, Lazarus.” Our worship leader rises to her feet, spreads her legs apart about a foot, and cocks her head to the side. Mrs. Martine has good-sized hands, I think, as they move purposefully to her hips. The overall effect of her posturing is rather threatening. And when Laz’s eyes meet mine, I can tell he wants to say something else, but instead, his shoulders slump in obedient defeat, and he returns to his chair. Mrs. Martine leans forward and points at me with the single knitting needle she still holds. “Anthony, this group of young people cares about you. They planned every detail of what they were going to say on their own, without a word of input from me. They are deeply hurt by your choices. I suggest that you go home and think about the direction in which your life is heading. And then, if I were you, I’d very hastily get myself to the confessional.”
I’m glad I’m numb, because if I wasn’t I’d be wallowing in panic attack city. I manage to spit out two monotone words. “Thank you.”