I believe the house of God has many windows and many doors. Sometimes we walk in, sometimes we walk out. Sometimes we just walk away. But the windows are always open just enough to let a little light in. Sometimes we need to tip-toe and look inside once again. I looked in and there you were.
I was surfing the net, to be truthful doom scrolling. Luckily, for me I saw Father James Martin SJ, on Stephen Colbert. A spark ignited in me to share the following story.
My partner is a practicing Catholic and he goes to church every Saturday night. I am more of an east meets west kind of guy. Imagine Jesus and Buddha at a bar. I'm the bartender and I don't know who to serve first.
I have only been out since my sixtieth birthday. It was during the time of the pandemic. I was divorced and laid off. I could have easily spiraled out of control. The good news; I lost a job I hated, and I had time to write, think, walk and pray. I eventually started working as an independent contractor, delivering auto parts. On my down time, I sat in my car listening to classical music or sharing a video about the funny things I had seen on the road or random thoughts circling around my brain. When I wasn't making a living, I was writing in my journal. That journal move on to a blog. On the road with Denny D. My blog is about the funny side of my life from the road and looking back from infancy to young adulthood. I couldn't wait to share my little stories. I soon found out that my family and friends loved my -remember when- stories. These stories are now in a new book called Potholes and picket fences.
The story below is not in the book, but I beleive it is time to share. It is a story about acceptance, love and difficult decisions.
When I was just a boy my uncle who lived in a penthouse apartment in Toronto, was fired from his job because he was gay. There he was in living color on the front page of the Global Mail, a picture of my uncle, John Damien. (You can search for him. I think his story could be helpful to your ministry)
At the time I was going to church every Sunday, like a good little boy. I was clueless teenager. I knew nothing about orientation or attraction; I was listening to the whispers of angels and wondered if priesthood or religious life was in my future. I was innocent, naive and devastated by the news. My mother thought I'd be old enough to understand but I thought my favorite uncle was going to go to hell. I didn't know any better. I was just a prepubescent kid. And I would remain that way until science helped me out when I was eighteen. But that's another story.
I had only one question. What makes a person gay? I didn't have a clue. I thought it was a sin. I prayed that God would forgive him. He was my Godfather and the nicest man ever -other than my dad of course. He lived with my mother and father for a while.
My mother was a Catholic and went to church everyday when she could and you couldn't ask for a better caregiver. She cared for many in their time of need. My uncle was just one more soul to save or aleast nurse back to life . Unfortunately, he died from pancreatic cancer, but she was there until the end. (Although he eventually won his court case, he wasn't here to see it or be compensated) I was there too, but I hid in my room most of the time. I hate to admit it but it killed me to see him so thin and ill. I felt helpless. I didn't know then but the work he had done for gay rights would eventually find a place in my timeline, down the road. I mention this for a reference point so you could see where I came from and to lead to the rest of the story below.
Here I am today open and wondering if the doors will open. I have been looking through the windows but now I wonder, can I see myself in the pew again beside my partner. If I knelt in front of the God of fire and brimstone, would I be burned if not by God alone but also by his flock gathered in judgment around me?
Luckily, for people like me, Jesus proves that God is love. Not the God of fear-based sermons of my youth but the God of love, in human form. Can we love without judgment and know with certainty that we are all children of God? What can we question? And why question it? Love is, without question. I am formed by the hand of God. I am not a mistake; I am chosen. I am loved, I can love and I will love by the grace of God because of the loving example of Jesus. I must believe in this truth; that with his love, we can walk and worship together.
I remember going to church with my ex-wife and step kids. I could feel the pastor's eyes penetrate my soul. (I had met him at a come and see weekend at Saint Peter's Seminary decades earlier) -Another story for another time. He was staring at me or was it through me. Was it because he thought I had wasted my calling or did he secretly know that I had a secret. I was sitting in the pew looking for somewhere to hide. All I could do was look away.
I would like to say I was happily married but I wasn't. I loved her and I was willing to die with my secret and if she never wanted to separate, I would have done just that. The secret I would soon find out is the most important one. What was a secret, was more like a voice in my head.
If we can't love and accept ourselves, how can we truly love and accept someone else?
I didn’t love myself; I loathed myself. I wished I was either straight or gay, but what I was, was confusing and exhausting.
There is one scene from the Bible that comes up in my mind: Jesus at the rock. The human Jesus. Alone with eyes raised to heaven. His closest friends are sleeping -someone must have been awake to tell the story- but I digress. He is Jesus. The son of God. He is praying and clinging to his humanity. Hours go by and his father says nothing. He is found. His friends wake up but it's too late. There are so many hidden stories behind the scenes. My take is this.
Abandonment is not the end; it's just the repurposed path
Between a rock and a hard place there is surrender and acceptance. This is not weakness, it is strength. There can be no accession without it.
This is my Jesus. Between falling and rising there is opportunity. I will wipe away the sweat and blood from my brow with the garment of Christ and though I too may be paraded among those who are filled with evil and judgement, I too, will rise above it. I am loved by God by the grace of Jesus.
I have been to mass with my partner before and I have been accepted by the kind people in our rural community. I now ask myself. (I'll close this chapter with a epiphany. I apologize, I can't remember who said this)
What is to fear if love lives here?
Maybe I can return home and open the door. God willing.
Thank you so much for what you do and inspiring me to share with you.
I'll keep you posted.
Dennis
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