Set Free

It's been a week since last I posted, though I've started and stopped a couple of times. It's been a very busy week.

First, to get the easy stuff out of the way, the Men's Chorus of the Magic City Choral Society presents our Spring concert tonight and there's been a lot of rehearsal! But it is so much fun and so rewarding.

The big deal, though, is that Saturday afternoon, my older daughter and her mom came over, and I came out to her. She's 11, old enough to understand being gay without understanding many of the intimate details. Like so much of my coming out experience, it was far, far better than it could have been. In fact, except for about 45 seconds of teary eyes, it was really good.

We spent a lot of time talking about attraction, starting with interracial couples because we had earlier talked with her about that in light of Mildred Loving's recent death. She understood that we don't choose those to whom we are attracted and that sometimes Church and society don't approve, but that doesn't make it wrong. We worked around to the plight of gays and lesbians which she completely understood. We've worked hard to raise tolerant, open-minded, and accepting children. Then she asked me if I am in love with a man. I answered, no, I'm not, but if I were to fall in love, it would be with a man. She made sure I was serious (I might be known for occasionally joking around!). That triggered the brief watery eyes moment, because some kids at school said gay people were scary.

We spent the next half hour talking about all of the gay people she knows, whom she has never known were gay, singles and couples. She was amazed at how many of us there are! And she agreed that they were all nice, normal people. We shared how many people know this already, and that they are all ok with it...family, friends, church members. We let her know that it's up to her as to whether or not to tell her friends and she has a good understanding of those potential consequences, although she is a bit of a free spirit and not as controlled by peer pressure as many of her friends. She knows she has one friend, her best friend, that she can talk to about it because her mother has known for some time and they are also supportive.

I am both relieved that she is handling it so well, so far, and amazed at the sense of a burden lifted for me. I no longer have to worry that she will find out from someone else. I can more openly be myself. She is a little anxious that I'll go out and get married quickly. Part of her likes the idea of having two dads to spoil her, but another part doesn't want to add anyone to our existing family. But her mom talked about that, telling her that each of us deserves to find the most happiness in life that we can find and that happiness for an adult often includes a partner in life and it will be ok to add someone else to our family.

All in all, it was rather amazing. Hopefully it will continue to be so. My younger daughter is 7 and we expect that she will slowly simply come to realize that this is the way my life is shaped. I'm not so sure I'll ever have to deliberately come out to her.


I want to respond here to a comment posted by throughthestorm to the "Jesus was not a coward" post. Finding the best way, the most perfect way, to act in love is often difficult. And it may be different for each of us, even in the same circumstance.

We are called, first, to love God. For me, this is as much about loving myself as anything. For I know that I am in the image of God. That which makes me uniquely me is a reflection of the divine. In my acceptance of and deepening understanding of myself, I am loving God who shaped me as I am. I am gay for a purpose. Whether I believe that God deliberately made me gay for some purpose in God's own mind, or whether I believe that being born gay, God calls me to some purpose reflecting that part of my identity is unimportant. I am gay for a purpose. And it is good that I am gay. It means that I am capable of giving and receiving that deepest and most giving of all loves, capable of sharing the heart of who I am with another human being, wholly and completely. So whatever I choose to do, it must be rooted in this full and complete acceptance of myself and the certain knowledge that I am good.

To show love to my family, that was a difficult path to find. However, my ex-wife and I are utterly convinced that in order to be the human beings we are created to be, we must be authentic to who we are. And for me, part of that is being gay. While we can love each other deeply, it is the love of friendship. Deeper than any other we had, but not the full embrace of love that includes sexuality. And while marriage is more than sex by far, and in the past was more about property than love, our contemporary understanding of marriage includes a romantic love that includes sexuality. I think that's a good thing. It's what we want to model for our children. That healthy relationships include the whole of a person, not just parts.

For us, we were convinced that we could love and raise our daughters as a family while being authentic. And we've been able to do so, so far. It's been almost two years now. Our daughters know that we love them unceasingly and that we are happy with each other and that we are a family. For us, for me, that is love.

While I freely admit that all of us live in different places and walk different paths, I cannot believe that denying a part of ourselves that is so good is ever the best path. It may not be the worst path, but I don't think it's the best. One of the things my therapist asked me to do was to put myself in my children's place, as adults. I did so by imagining what I would have felt like if my mother had remained married to my father for the sake of her children, though she would have been unfulfilled and unhappy. I thought about my former mother-in-law, who remained in such a marriage, a worse marriage, actually. And I knew that as an adult, I would have been deeply saddened to know that my parent had given up so much of her life.

That's not true for everyone, but it's true for me. Divorce is painful and difficult, but for us it has been road to a deeper and more real happiness and joy and freedom.

-David

Jesus Was Not A Coward

This is not my line, but comes from Jerry Falwell, via a local blog I read regularly, Birmingham Blues (http://www.queervoice.net/kmcmullen/). Falwell made the statement in talking about the justification of nuclear weapons, a particularly egregious misreading of Jesus, in my opinion. But the post at Birmingham Blues hit the mark solidly in that one line.

Jesus was not a coward.

In the Deep South, this conjures up an image of the tough guy Jesus, flipping tables over in the Temple and perhaps yelling. Or the brawny jesus as carpenter, unafraid of a little hard work. These images stand in contrast to the oft-portrayed softer Jesus, tender and filled with love and compassion.

Jesus was not a coward. Jesus was tough. Jesus could definitely be an 'in your face' kind of guy.

Falwell might imply that Jesus was all for defending your own, with nuclear weapons if needed. But that's not the courage Jesus demonstrates in the Gospel. Jesus' bravery, his unwavering courage, was in his constant call to love. Love our neighbors. Love our enemies. Love one another. Love God. Love ourselves. No matter what life presents us, no matter what others do or say, we are called to love.

That's tough, in every sense. Not the words of a coward.

When I teach the Confirmation class on Ethics in my parish, though I talk about morality and ethical systems, historically and in the tradition, I come back to a single guiding moral value, that of love. Above all else, we must act in love. If we can do that, we have nothing else to worry about. There are no other moral values, no other ethical choices.

That's not to say that acting in love is easy. There is 'tough love' though it seems to me that most people who talk about tough love seem to enjoy acting in tough love far too much. It is reminiscent of "hate the sin, love the sinner" behavior. Nonetheless, oftentimes love is hard. It's hard to determine what action is most loving and even more often it's just plain hard to show love to some people.

We are both surrounded with opportunities to love and love to accept from others. May my eyes be always open to see both, and may I have the courage to love unrelentingly.

-David

Lovely People

I worked from home today, though not intentionally. Most mornings, as part of my routine, I do a quick log in to see what's on my calendar and check to see if any urgent emails or IMs have arrived for me. Mostly because I am chronically late! This morning opened with several hot issues before I even took my shower and I got so involved I just stayed home and worked. While it was very busy, workwise, the nice thing is that I can take breaks and do stuff here I need to do. Or, I can let the TV play in the background.

Honestly, it is in the background when it's on. I'm not a TV junkie and generally tune it out. In fact, my TV is rarely on. But today a British miniseries was playing, which I've seen before, called "The Line of Beauty". All of a sudden, a line jumped out at me, an intersection with a conversation I had last night with a friend.

"You don't fall in love with someone because they're beautiful. People are lovely because we love them, not the other way around."

Last night, a friend and I were discussing the mysteries of attraction. The inexplicable nature of what draws us to another human being. Of course, physical beauty is undeniable. But I can list, easily, a dozen physically beautiful men I am not the least attracted to, generally because of personality. It's as though I can objectively see the beauty, but it doesn't move me. And there are definitely other guys who don't initially strike me as physically beautiful, who become more and more lovely as I get to know them more.

What a mystery.

-David

Love One Another

Maundy Thursday. So many images, memories, meanings for me. This is one of the high points of the whole Easter drama for me. Washing feet. An act of such humility and so ordinary, so earthy. Not like baptism, which is so symbolic and barely resembles a bath. Not like the Eucharist, with its actions and ritual, its solemnity and sense of the sacred.

No, this is so ordinary. Water. Benches. Towels. Basins. Feet. And yet, I am moved to tears each and every year. Seeing my brothers and sisters caring for one another in this way. Serving one another. Demonstrating our love for one another.

This day is also the memorial of my mother's death. I don't remember the actual date, because that event is forever entwined with this one. I spent much of my day at the hospital with her, leaving only to attend church that evening. Leaving her resting but stable. In the middle of the service my pager went off and I left immediately for the hospital, fortunately arriving shortly before she died. I count myself so blessed to have held her as she breathed her last breath, her arm glistening with my tears. I later learned that my priest, seeing me leave quickly, knew what had happened and that my mother was memorialized at that celebration of the Eucharist. Almost immediately at her death, her name and memory were lifted to heaven by my faithful brothers and sisters.

More than Christmas, more than Easter, this particular day moves at the center of my life of faith. In simple acts of kindness and grace, we show to one another love. We answer our calling to be human. I find myself always on this day reminded that life is finite and filled with loss and grief, but that we are called to reach beyond the finite and beyond the hurt and to love one another. To touch and wash and heal and care. We are one family, bound together in sadness and joy.

I give you a new commandment: Love one another.