Just Because

Where I'm At: A Culture of Secrets

“Society has forced people who are gay to be secretive, to obsess with why they are ‘different’ when in reality, in a perfect world, none of that would matter.”

So wrote an online friend recently in an e-mail.   The context in which he was writing was different, but I couldn’t help but consider how relevant his statement is to what I’m currently thinking and feeling as I continue the process of coming out.

Of course, anyone who is gay – unless they were divinely favored with a superhuman dose of self-esteem, raised by celestially-enlightened parents and blessed with an extraordinary amount of self-knowledge – has had experience with being secretive, has developed to some degree the art of concealment, and has learned to be – even if only for a brief period - wary.

All of this goes with being in the closet and, fortunately for those young gay men now coming of age, society has become much more accepting of homosexuality.  The culture of secrets is slowly dying out among the younger generations, much as the old childhood diseases faded away into history.  Large segments of society now not only embrace but defend those who are “different,” and we are on a trajectory to a world where “none of that will matter.”

But I digress.

I have spent most of my life in the closet, and when I took my first tentative steps out, I was obsessed with secrecy.  I slowly (although some might say rapidly) told those close to me, including my older children, that I am gay.  For a long while, I couldn’t even bring myself to use that word (“gay”).  I still struggle with it, but I’m getting better.  (It’s kind of like saying “Voldemort” when one is accustomed to saying the equivalent of “I’m that which must not be named”).

I only recently realized, however, that what I was doing with my children was simply bringing them into an enlarged closet – at least as far as they are concerned.  This insight came to me from a fellow gay father at a meeting last weekend, and it hit me like a 2x4, right between the eyes.  I have been asking them not to tell anyone; to join the secret-keepers’ club. 

Initially, this was ostensibly out of concern for my younger children, lest they “find out.”  But it wasn’t until I heard my friend’s comment the other night that I realized what a burden I had placed upon my children by asking them to essentially come into the closet with me and share in my shame.

In the mean time, starting around the first of the year, I started getting “out there” more, making friends.  I joined the Salt Lake Men’s Choir as the real me.  This was reality; I couldn’t use a pseudonym.  It was a little scary, but I gradually got used to the idea of more people (albeit in the ‘community’) knowing who I am and knowing my real name.

This process has now been going on for several months, and I think I am approaching a crossroads.  I’m not out at work yet, but I’m thinking I’m going to at least tell my boss before the end of the month – not that I need to; but I think I want to.  Sort of like when I wrote my coming out letter to my sister back in October:  I didn’t really need to tell her, but I wanted her to know me for who I really am. 

Similarly, I’m getting to the point where I want certain people to know me for who I really am. Because of my relationship with them, I am beginning to feel increasingly that every day that goes by without them knowing the real me is another day that I, in a way, live a lie.

What I’m still having a problem with, what I fear, is people in my old ward finding out.  I tell myself that my concern is for my wife and children and what they might be subjected to.  But I know that that isn’t the real reason, or at least not the main one.  I’m not sure exactly – at least I cannot articulate it – what the real reason is.  I have been challenged by a friend to figure it out and then do something about it.

What am I afraid of?  What does this say about me?  Do I just need to give myself more time?

Paul, Fems and Fairies

In this post, one in a series that examines Daniel Helminiak’s book, What the Bible Really Says About Homosexuality, we look at two passages from 1 Corinthians and 1 Timothy:

1 Corinthians 6:9-10

(King James Version)  Know ye not that the unrighteous shall not inherit the kingdom of God? Be not deceived: neither fornicators, nor idolaters, nor adulterers, nor effeminate nor abusers of themselves with mankind [oute malakoi oute arsenokoitai], nor thieves, nor covetous, nor drunkards, nor revilers, nor extortioners, shall inherit the kingdom of God.”

(New International Version) Or do you not know that wrongdoers will not inherit the kingdom of God? Do not be deceived: Neither the sexually immoral nor idolaters nor adulterers nor men who have sex with men [oute malakoi oute arsenokoitai] nor thieves nor the greedy nor drunkards nor slanderers nor swindlers will inherit the kingdom of God.

1 Timothy 1:9-10

(King James Version) Knowing this, that the law is not made for a righteous man, but for the lawless and disobedient, for the ungodly and for sinners, for unholy and profane, for murderers of fathers and murderers of mothers, for manslayers, for whoremongers, for them that defile themselves with mankind [arsenokoitai], for menstealers, for liars, for perjured persons, and if there be any other thing that is contrary to sound doctrine.”

(New International Version) We also know that the law is made not for the righteous but for lawbreakers and rebels, the ungodly and sinful, the unholy and irreligious, for those who kill their fathers or mothers, for murderers, for the sexually immoral, for those practicing homosexuality [arsenokoitai], for slave traders and liars and perjurers—and for whatever else is contrary to the sound doctrine.”

These two passages are among the handful of passages from the Bible that Christian homophobes love to hurl at gays.  Like most of these passages, however, what appears to be obvious to the average close-minded bigot proves not to be so obvious upon examination.  The “nut” of these two passages centers on the meaning of two Greek words:  malakoi and arsenokoitai.  The first word is used only in Corinthians, the second in both passages.

The King James Version translates these two words, respectively, as “effeminate” and “abusers of themselves with mankind.”  The New International Version translates the two words together as “men who have sex with men” – noting in a footnote that the two Greek words used refer to the passive and active participants in homosexual acts (based on the conclusions of certain commentators).  Helminiak, after reviewing several translations, points out that virtually every translation of the Bible translates these two words differently and that there is no real certainty among scholars about what these texts actually mean. 

The best translation for malakos, in Helminiak’s view, is probably “effeminate.”  But, he points out:  “… there is very little evidence – and it is forced – that the term malakos was specifically linked with this effeminate homosexual style.  Effeminacy was simply not associated with male-male sex in the ancient world, though a man who allowed himself to be penetrated might be called ‘effeminate.’  But on the other hand, malakos was also applied to men who primped themselves in order to attract women or who were lazy, wanton or loose.”

Helminiak’s conclusion is that malakos simply does not refer to same-sex activity, but is used to make a general condemnation of moral looseness and undisciplined behavior.  He believes the New Jerusalem Bible accurately translates malakos as “the self-indulgent.”

As to aresenokoitai, it is even more difficult to explain or translate.  The compound word is used only twice in the Bible, in the two passages under consideration.  Arseno- refers to men and Koitai comes from a word that refers to the active partner in sexual intercourse.  Thus, says Helminiak, the literal English translation might be “man-penetrator,” but it is not clear at all from the text whether the object of the penetration being referred to is a man or a woman.

It has been suggested, in part based on the rare use of the compound word and the mystery surrounding its exact meaning, that the Greek-speaking Jews coined the term by translating literally a rabbinical phrase denoting “those who lie with a male”, i.e., as that term is used in Leviticus.  Thus, 1 Corinthians 6:9 and 1 Timothy 1:10 may be repeating the prohibition in Leviticus 18:22 against men having penetrative sex with other men.

But, Helminiak concludes, no one really knows for sure.  He suggests that the lesson from these two passages can perhaps be summarized as follows:

“Biblical opposition to prostitution, incest or adultery does not forbid male-female sex acts as such.  What the Bible opposes throughout is abuse of heterosexuality.  Likewise, if aresenokoitai does refer to male-male sex, these texts do not forbid male homogenitality as such.  In first-century, Greek-speaking, Jewish Christianity, arsenokoitai would have referred to exploitative, lewd and wanton sex between men.  This, and not male-male sex in general, is what the term would imply.  This, then, and not male-male sex in general, is what these biblical texts oppose.”

Other Voices

Similar conclusions were reached by Jimmy Creech, a former Methodist minister who was “defrocked” by the United Methodist Church in 1999 for performing a “holy union” of two gay men in Chapel Hill, North Carolina.  Creech was and is a pioneer for gay rights in the church and was Chairman of the Board of Soulforce for five years after being kicked out of the Methodist ministry. 

In his recently published book, Adam’s Gift (about which I plan to write), Creech describes how he conducted an extensive examination of the passages of the Bible that are used to condemn homosexuality and came to the conclusion that “the claim that ‘the Bible says homosexuality is a sin’ is misleading and inappropriate, since the biblical writers had no knowledge of sexual orientation in general, or of homosexuality in particular.”  “The biblical writers,” he continues, “had known just as little about sexual orientation as they did about nuclear fission or aerodynamics.  In scripture, sex was understood solely as genital activity motivated by lust, love, or the desire to have a child; it was regulated by social custom, not by an innate aspect of the personality.”

As to the passages from Corinthians and 1 Timothy, Creech wrote:

“Because Paul is the first to use arsenokoitai in the Bible, it has no literary history from which its meaning can be determined.  Furthermore, no one in the early Christian church after Paul used malakoi and aresenokoitai when talking about same-gender sexual activity.  Many of the early church leaders discuss same-gender sexual activity, but they ignore I Corinthians and I Timothy.  Eusebius (a theologian of the fourth century CE) interpreted malakoi and arsenokoitai to refer to a male prostitute for women.  John Chrysostom (a preacher who was Eusebius’s contemporary), who strongly condemned same-gender sexual activity and wrote commentaries on both I Corinthians and I Timothy, did not see any references to same-gender sexual activity in these passages.  Peter Cantor (a twelfth-century) theologian) made a list of all passages in the Bible that he believed referred to same-gender sexual activity and did not include these two.  It was not until the thirteenth century that Thomas Aquinas (1224-74) associated arsenokoitai and malakoi with same-gender sexual activity.  From then on, the conventional interpretation was that these two words, used separately or together, mean a ‘man who has sex with a man [at p. 35].’”

Finally, the website, Would Jesus Discriminate, contains a lengthy article dealing with these two passages from 1 Corinthians and 1 Timothy.  It points out:

“There are hundreds of Greek writings from this period that refer to homosexual activity using terms other than arsenokoitai. If Paul had intended to refer generally to homosexual sex, or to one of the partners in gay-male sex, he had other commonly-used, well-known words at his disposal. He wouldn’t have had to resort to this ambiguous compound word, which future generations would find difficult to translate. Apparently Paul was trying to refer to some more obscure type of behavior.”

The conclusion of the article is that aresenokoitai is best understood as a reference to men who force themselves sexually on others.

Thus, the bottom line is that it is the consensus of most scholars that neither of these passages mean what most people who use them against gays think they mean.  They appear to refer to abusive relationships involving male-male sexual contact and go hand-in-hand with a condemnation of abusive heterosexual sexual contact.

Back at the Ranch: Doing Dixie

Our bus slowly wound its way through the streets of Santa Clara and Ivins, two “suburbs” of St. George, Utah. We had awoken to a brilliant, beautiful spring day in “Dixie,” and the contrast of the azure sky as it met the red rock on the horizon was striking.    

We were on our way to “the ranch” – the home of the parents of a member of the Salt Lake Men’s Choir, a couple who had hosted the chorus for the past 11 years when they made their trip to St. George for their annual spring concert.

We had been there the night before, after our concert.  I had heard a lot about this place, but my friends usually ended up saying, “You have to see it to understand the place.  It’s just hard to describe.” 

They were right.  In the first place, it definitely wasn’t a ranch.  I think “compound” would have been a more apt word.  Mind you, it probably used to be a ranch before urban sprawl surrounded the compound on three sides.

Within that compound, however, was a world of beauty, whimsy, humor and dozens of visual vignettes, each with their own charm.

Besides the main house, there were several detached outbuildings, including a couple of ranch (guest) houses, one of which had been christened the “Hog, Cock and Burro Inn,” which, as the sign points out, should not be confused with a bed and breakfast.

These guest houses continued the themes of whimsy and humor found throughout the compound, a place where laughter is obviously valued.

Then, there were the half-dozen or more different gathering places, again each with a unique charm of their own.  This was obviously a place where both individuality and community are valued.

It was in the main gathering place, the night before, that I had met Linda Stay and her husband, Steve (pictured below).  I was introduced to them by a friend of mine who had known them for several years.  I recognized her from the concert:  she was the exuberant blonde who had been bobbing and swaying in her seat through most of our upbeat numbers and had listened in rapt attention during the serious pieces. 

Nothing was said about it that evening, but I later realized that Linda is the mother of Tyler Barrick, husband of Spencer Jones, the Mormon couple whose marriage was featured in the film “8:The Mormon Proposition.” (You can learn more about her and Steve here.) If you've seen that movie, you know that Linda and Steve became firm advocates of their son and for gay rights generally.  Linda didn’t talk about any of that, however.  She simply told me that she has a gay son and a lesbian daughter.  That said, she wanted to hear my story.

As I started talking, I immediately felt genuine interest, empathy and love flowing from Linda to me.  It was an amazing experience: I felt like I had known this woman for years instead of minutes.  She was so in tune to what I was saying that, as I came to the part of my story where I described the effect on me of Boyd K. Packer’s talk at last October conference and said, “I felt like something had …”, she said “snapped” at the same time I did. 

I couldn’t keep back the tears as Linda assured me that my children would someday thank me for the example I am setting for them of living truth; that good would come from all of this – not just for me but for them as well. 

When I left the “ranch” that evening to go back to our hotel, even though a cold wind had been blowing that made it uncomfortable – even with our coats on - to be outside, I felt warmed.  I felt validated, uplifted and renewed.  I felt blessed.

The following morning, I thought about this experience as I walked around the “ranch,” taking pictures.  I thought about what a special place it is and was for me as well as others.  To me, there was a palpable presence in this place of tolerance, acceptance, appreciation of diversity and a zest for life.  Some people call that presence “spirit.”

Around noon, we boarded the bus and left the ranch to head back to the freeway.  As we drove back through Ivins and Santa Clara, we passed several LDS churches.  At one, the meetings had apparently just ended and I looked out my window to see people leaving the building and crossing the parking lot – older women in their floral print dresses; a young couple with their two young children, one walking, one being pushed in a stroller; a middle-aged man walking purposefully, his scripture bag and notebook binder tucked under one arm. 

I looked at this scene, ruminating about all I have experienced in the past seven months and in the past 24 hours, and the thought came unbidden to my mind how foreign all of that seemed to me now.  “I am no longer a part of that world,” I said to myself.  "I have left that behind." 

Me, My Inner Catholic Boy and Coming Out

I moved out of the family home two months ago.  Since then, I have not been to an LDS Church except to watch Priesthood Session of April Conference with my son. I have no immediate plans to attend sacrament meeting anytime soon, and I certainly have no plans to attend Sunday School or priesthood meeting anytime soon.

Have I “left” the Church? I’m not yet prepared to say that. (In fact, I’m prepared to argue that it is the wrong question. I believe a more correct statement is that the Church left me.) I have commented to a couple of people, however, that I consider myself on “sabbatical” from the Church as I continue to work through the complex process called “coming out.” Whether I ever return from that sabbatical remains to be seen. Meanwhile, I have allowed myself to explore feelings and beliefs from my past.

About six weeks ago, I went to a Catholic mass for the first time in 25 years. I didn’t know how I would feel or what I would think. I was amazed that morning how many memories from my childhood came flooding into my mind, how many parts of the mass came back to me, how I was able to almost instinctively give some of the prayer responses after all this time. I was also touched, that first Sunday, by the priest’s homily, which struck me as far more profound and “true” than virtually any sacrament meeting talk I had ever heard.  I came away feeling like I wanted to go back.

That opportunity came the next Sunday, as a (gay Mormon) friend expressed a desire to attend mass. So I took him. I found my thoughts that Sunday turning toward my mother, who had been raised Catholic and who died several years ago. As I have written elsewhere, these thoughts led me to ponder over the troubled relationship I had had with her. In light of recent events in my life, I came to see my mother in a new light, and I feel like I was imbued with grace to forgive her for the abuse I had suffered as a child at her hand. 

That grace continued to bless me as new thoughts come into my mind about my mother.Just recently, for example – in fact in the course of preparing an early draft of this post – it occurred to me that both she and I had tried to achieve perfection in our respective families, only to become our own worst enemies. 

Both my mother and I desperately tried to do the “right thing” – she trying to be the perfect Catholic mother and have perfect Catholic children; me trying to be the perfect straight Mormon father and have the perfect Mormon family.  But in both our cases, irony of ironies, doing the “right thing” got in the way of that which was truly needful – the formation and nurturance of healthy, happy family relationships.

I bring this up about my mother because it made me think about the faith of my childhood and youth:  Catholicism. Attending mass also seemed to be precipitating the endowment of grace I was experiencing with respect to my mother. I pondered over this.

I went back to mass the following week, ostensibly to give my son the opportunity to fulfill school requirements and to see a different religious service. The real reason, however, is that I wanted to go back:  something was resonating with me. I was having “spiritual” experiences as I attended mass. I felt like I was reconnecting to something that had been lost. I also felt like I was at the right place at the right time during this part of my journey.

Because of these feelings, I began to consider the possibility of going back to the Catholic Church. I thought about it. I looked up what I would need to do to go back.   even communicated with my brother – who is an active Catholic – about it. (He proceeded to e-mail my (Catholic) cousin, after which I received an e-mail from this cousin, welcoming me back to the Church. I replied that his welcome was a bit premature, but I appreciated the sentiment.)

I went to mass again on Palm Sunday. I was beginning to feel other currents, however, that challenged the feelings I had been having about the Catholic Church. Specifically, I wondered whether I could ever feel at home in a church and faith that did not accept me for who I am. 

Because I was out of town the past two Sundays, I haven’t been to any kind of church since Palm Sunday. During this time, I’ve had an opportunity to think about my feelings. Though there are aspects of the Catholic faith that resonate with me, and perhaps will always resonate with me, I came to feel that I do not want to be part of a faith community that is not accepting of members of the LGBT community. 

I came to realize, I think, that my gayness has in fact become part of my personal theology, my personal relationship with God, and I began to feel I cannot be part of a faith community that conflicts with that personal theology and does not affirm that personal relationship.

This was brought home to me in a recent discussion with my sister about religion, sexuality and faith. I realized, during the course of that conversation, that even though I have intellectually accepted that God created me the way I am and that He loves me for who I am, I am, nevertheless, not fully “out” to God. 

I think there is still a part of me that believes that God cannot or will not accept me for who I am. That part of me, that person, has been well-entrenched within me for decades – one of the many consequences of living in the closet for all that time – and will not be easily silenced. 

The funny thing is - I don't think I'll ever learn who I truly am until and to the degree that I come out to God and fall into His embrace. Doing so requires me, among other things, to shed the veneer of self-righteousness false identity that Mormonism provided for me. With this veneer, I didn’t really need God, did I? My sense of self-acceptance came from “living the Gospel,” “keeping the commandments” and “following the prophet.”  Shedding this veneer, coming out of the Mormon closet, requires me to stand naked before God, without the self-satisfying protections these practices afforded me.

In this regard, I am reminded of the words of James Alison, a gay Catholic priest of whom I have previously written: 

“The gift of faith is God's way of enabling us to relax into God's embrace … if you believe someone likes you, you relax. The masks come down. You're able actually to let go of the tense self-presentation that accompanies being with someone who you're not sure whether they like you or not.  So … the gift of faith is a habitual disposition to relax in the presence of someone who likes us.” 

I’m trying to learn to relax into God’s embrace without the mask, without the tense self-presentation; just me, just as I am.

The journey continues …

I Was Blind, Now I See

This is another in a series called “Gay Gospel Doctrine Class,” which takes a lesson from the LDS Church’s (Adult) Gospel Doctrine class and presents it from a gay perspective.  Today’s lesson is based on Lesson #16 from the Gospel Doctrine Manual and was prepared by UtahHiker801. 

In John chapter 9, Jesus comes upon a man who was blind since birth.  The disciples ask Jesus, “Master, who did sin, this man, or his parents, that he was born blind?  Jesus answered, Neither hath this man sinned, nor his parents; but that the works of God should be made manifest in him.”  He heals his blindness, and when the formerly blind man is brought to the Pharisees, they interrogate him as to how he was healed.

The man answers them several times, yet the Pharisees refuse to believe him.  The blind man’s parents are brought in and questioned.  They were wise enough to see through the trickery and referred all questions back to their son who was “of age”.

Despite all of the testimony given, the Pharisees refuse to accept that Jesus performed this miracle with the false indignation that this was done on the Sabbath.

How many times have many of us heard questions and arguments about why any particular one of us may be gay?  I’ve heard or read: it was the result of an absent father; or, it was because his mother was overbearing and controlling; or, it was because he was never comfortable around other boys and isolated himself.

All of these questions have the pretext of, “Master, who did sin, this man, or his parents, that he is gay?”

For years I wished and prayed that I too could be healed from this “condition”, to be made “right” again in the presence of God.  The amount of soul searching I did was, I think, rather impressive.

Happily, I have come to the realization that being gay is not some infirmity which needs to be cured or suffered through.  The cure that I experienced was coming to a deeper understanding of who I am; that God doesn’t love me in spite of being gay, but that his love encompasses the totality of who I am including my sexual orientation.

Regrettably, just as the Pharisees responded with derision to the healed blind man, I find that some people refuse to accept or even listen to the reality of my life because it doesn’t fit into their preconceptions.  I’ll be honest here; most people don’t know about this part of who I am, but I have listened to countless “sermons” by those who lack an understanding of anything different from themselves.  They feign to know the mind of God and express self-righteousness indignation at the perceived affront to the “broken Sabbath.”

With great relief, I can report that their opinions mean less to me as I move forward.  I’m still working on letting go of occasional anger of being devalued, because I know that long-term happiness is based on finding and seeing goodness.  And that is my hope for all of us.