Pictured: The Rev. John Yates, Rector, The Falls Church (Falls Church, VA)
One of the first people I came out to was a friend from church who was a mentor and surrogate mom figure. She was interested and not judgmental, but she clearly liked being straight and being a mother and wanted me to feel the same way. I don't think she ever actually accepted my gayness, because she would thereafter check in with me periodically by asking "are you dating any MEN?" Ultimately, she left the Presbyterian Church and joined an Episcopal Church called
The Falls Church, which she explained was "more conservative" than other Episcopal Churches and "didn't believe in ordaining homosexuals." I never knew how to respond to these comments, which were painfully reminiscent of my own mother's discomfort with me, and in my own conflict and paralysis I let the friendship drift.
These memories all came back to me yesterday when I read that two Episcopal churches in Northern Virginia, one of which was my friend's church, had broken off from the denomination because of its official policy of allowing gay men and women to be ordained to the priesthood. In the article I read, it said that the Nigerian bishop who heads the branch of the Anglican Communion these two chruches are joining believes that growing acceptance of gay relationships within the church indicates the existence of a "satanic attack" on the denomination.
If this had happened when I was a teenager, struggling with faith and sexuality, it would have driven me deeper into the hole I was already in. I already believed that I was under a Satanic attack - I even believed crazy things, like the death of Pope John Paul I one day after assuming the papacy was somehow tied to my wickedness. In the end, my decision to leave the church saved my life. But certain events, like the return of the Christmas season every year, make me feel grief at this loss of a vital part of my identity. While I have a new faith home as a Zen Buddhist practitioner, the sights and sounds of the Buddhist liturgy and the Buddha himself remain emotionally one step removed from me. While the teachings of my Zen teacher pose no threat to my sense of reason and have tremendously changed my life in much the same way as my initial Christian conversion, when I hear the a beautiful hymn like "O Holy Night", I feel a sense of loss.
A few years ago I saw a film that perfectly articulated my conflicts. It's called
Priest, and it's the story of a Roman Catholic priest serving a lower-income parish in England. This is a story of humain frailty, redemption, and community that makes me cry for two days me every time I see it. I plan to write a review of this film as part of this series on Christmas and Christianity.
Next month:
Priest
posted by Lisa Moscatiello #
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