Spiritual Journey: A Look Back

Looking through the "dashboard" of my blog I found this in the draft files, never having been published. I do not know why... maybe I just forgot or wanted to revise it. Anyhow, after reading it I felt it to be a pretty good summary of my thinking back in April 2010. Since then, I have reconciled somewhat with the United Methodist Church (my local one, not the evil Mother Church) and found particular meaning and enrichment in the stately, high church Eucharist of  St Mary's Episcopal. So much so that I am going to take some classes offered by St Mary's to learn more and perhaps join the church.

I did not want to waste this piece, looking back it was kind of a straight from the heart thing, so I am posting it today, a year and a half after it was penned. ~ Pato


So, inquiring minds want to know, where am I on this "spiritual journey" of mine?

De-railed, grounded, floundering, if you must ask.

As you may know, nasty and saddening events at the last two churches I attended left me cold, bitter and wondering if it was all worth it. Back in March, I went back to the last church I attended and still hold membership therein. As I reported it left me cold, and I have been back once since then. I have not been motivated to return. I remember my grandmother Clark telling my parents that exposure to church was good for a kid, that is where they learn how to be proper ladies and gentlemen. (She hated my guts so I am sure this was a backhanded slap at me directed at my parents who were very lax in taking me to church while my sister practically lived at hers at the time. Ironically, the roles reversed as the years passed.) Now I see church as a place to learn bigotry, hate, distrust, political infighting, greed and power.

Writer John Shore sums it up so nicely in his essay "10 Ways Christians Fail at Being Christian."

Easter, the big holy day of Christianity was spent at a beautiful, glittery, sensuous (not in the dirty minded sense, but one that fills all the senses) ritualized service. Gold and incense, flags, banners, robes and fine new dresses were on display. Any sense of excitement?? Not much. I confess I was sitting waiting patiently for the service to end so we could all head to Amy's for Bloody Marys which she assured me were chilling as we sat. I guess the point of the old style ritualistic services like this one at Grace and Holy Trinity Episcopal Cathedral and those of Catholics is that if you repeat the same thing over and over, you soon will believe it.

About 3/4 through the 1 hour and 45 minute service, someone read all the prayers. We were to ask for blessings on everyone from the church high and mighty to the little old lady in the nursing home. The reader came to a point where she read the names of soldiers killed in the silly and pathetic wars Bush started and Obama has not the balls to finish.

Ok... where is god or God or Yahweh, or G-d or whatever in all this? Why do wars and killing persist and we glorify it; all in the name of whatever god or prophet we are hooked on at the time? Makes no sense. So again I was in the middle of a church service and thought again "what hooey....". I glanced at my watch to see how long it was before Bloody Mary time.

My friends Amy and Megan are on a similar journey, but instead of throwing in the towel, they seem to persist in finding a church to meet their needs and wants; one like we had and was dismantled. Of the two, Megan is closer to me in her thoughts. It was one of her blogs (you must read 10 Churches) in which she mused:

"Of course, I’ve tried to contemporize the story. I’ve studied it academically and come up with a logical answer: it’s all one giant metaphor. After a couple days of mourning, the disciples asked themselves, “What would Jesus do?” and headed out to spread the good news. His ideas were resurrected. His body, however, was not."

I think she is on to something. Christianity is absorbed, possessed and verily controlled by a desire to ensure its existence by perpetuating a myth. Thus the message is lost in a cloud of incense scented ritual or rigid dogma. Look what churches are debating: who to let in or kick out, who to ordain or not, money, sex, buildings, structure, scandal, politics, growth, oh yes.. and money again. Where is peace, love, love all, care for the poor... the things that the person that was Jesus obviously taught and very likely died for? If one reads the Bible with a critical mind, you'll find more contradictions, missing chapters, inaccuracies and implausible events than a 5th grader's attempt at a novel.

So why do I even bother, why am I even considering still being a church goer? For me, it has been a wonderful social outlet. I have met my dearest and most wonderful friends at churches I have attended for any length of time. I am not one of those folks who enters a room and immediately knows everyone or glad hands all he sees. I tend to keep my distance and people do the same to me. But for some reason in a church setting, I feel more comfortable and I feel a connection to the people there. "The fellowship of kindred minds" as the old hymn goes rings true. So I have this fear that if I abandon church all together, I will be left in the cold.

That is worse than being left in hell.

Coupl'a Things XXXIII

1) Sperm Sperm Sperm Sperm SPERM, wonderful SPERM.. Sperm sperm sperm sperm...

I was amused greatly by the Heartland Men's Chorus' concert celebrating British pop music from the Beatles to Susan Boyle this past weekend. One of the best shows they had mounted in a long time; the chorus was in full view, voices in fine tune and with just the right blend of camp and serious musical work.

The ad-hoc reviewer from the KC Star gave a few backhanded accolades laced with a whiff of homophobia. He mentioned an "offensive" song and had to caution that it was not "family friendly", the code for anti-gay hysteria. The offensive song was the classic "Every Sperm is Sacred" from "Monty Python's Meaning of Life." Look it up if you don't know it, it is hilarious... especially so sang by 100 men. :)

The local rag, as do many of the papers in their online editions, allows you to post a comment. So I started to post that the offensive song was the above mentioned ditty. When I clicked to post my comment, it flagged it and asked me to remove a word. Yep.. sperm. Offensive.

Thus goes the USA, the most sexaphobic country in the civilized world for sure. Sex is a bigger crime than killing someone, sex is not to be discussed, shown, or even referenced to. The Puritans strike again.

So I posted my comment, changing sperm to "male seminal reproductive fluid". That convoluted mouthful was ok.

Sperm.

2)Easter and all that is upon us. Since I am sort of annoyed at all things church and religion, it has less meaning than usual this year. No singing, no running around for special services. I guess I will go a service on Sunday with my friends the Highfills and then to a brunch. But the excitement and meaning is gone for this year. We'll see what next year brings.

3)Spring is upon us as well. It is 66 degrees at 10:30ish AM, and the sun is full. The spring bulbs are in bloom, the peonies are popping up, birds are everywhere. I even saw a small moth flitting around.

I have fertilized the vegetable garden and raked the soil. It looks good. I have 3 onions that popped up out of nowhere and other gardeners have some fall vegetables like cabbage, Brussels sprouts and such trying to revive. Leeks are on my plot for this year, along with eggplant, Italian beans and the usual peppers. Maybe a squash or two and some pole beans. I will let the community part provide the tomatoes and such.

4) And now.... sperm.

Spiritual Journey IV

It had been a while, one day short of 70 days to be exact, since I had been to church. As I mentioned in my last post, I had sensed that the animosity and divisions still existed that I was so wanting to escape. However, a reunion in an informal setting with some of the people with whom I had worshiped and a sudden severing of contact with someone I had supported led me to decide I should see if things had changed.

So with Greg and Bruce out of town, I went and had my own revelation.

Can one be sitting at a church service and suddenly realize it is all just a bunch of hooey?

Does anyone really believe all this? Do they listen? Do they care? Why do the ones who do believe all this feel compelled to force it on others, even to the point of killing? Do they really think their God and Jesus are Republicans? And have they ever read the Bible to see how it rails against hypocrisy more than it does being a lesbian? What happened to "love everyone", compassion for the poor and sick?

I listened to a fine talk about courage from a very wise and learned man. He was compelled to base his talk on biblical texts and he did, but loose enough that they were secondary to the message. It could have been a talk at a Rotary Club or a historical society for that matter.

The music was ok, I had heard it all before. Yes, there were some folks glad to see me, and vice versa. Some there didn't notice I was there, and vice versa. Those who I consider friends are also those I would (and have) befriend even outside a church setting. But is it all really just a social occasion? Aren't we there to learn and change? That I did not see there, or in Christian religion in general.

So I left not feeling compelled to return regularly. It was nice, but certainly not reborn and reinvigorated; I did not feel the energy and sense of exploration I once found.

That, I fear, is no longer a part of my church experience. And it left me on a Sunday morning. How ironic.

Spiritual Journey III

I know I am naive, but I have never understood why things have to change. Like Facebook layouts, trash haulers, and churches, changes are never really for the better. Just get to a good point that works, and stick with it.

Yeah I know, change is inevitable.

The church I attended in Kansas City, Trinity United Methodist, was a beacon of light and a bold, brash "screw you church establishment" institution for the majority of the time I attended. Standing firmly in the harsh wind of the Methodist hierarchy that said gays and lesbians were not compatible with Christian teaching, TUMC welcomed all who entered. Many churches say that, however there is usually a "but" attached to the welcome. Not so at TUMC. It was thrilling to worship with fellow gays, people of diverse backgrounds, perfect people and dreadful sinners alike. There was a sort of magic when we all came together. People dropped pretense and pitched in.

One Sunday was to be a high church day. We purchased new choir robes and they were to be dedicated with song and praise. As I arrived (by the way, the place was so special I drove 50 miles round trip to attend) fire trucks and police littered the street. A fire had heavily damaged a large apartment building near by. The refugees congregated at TUMC. It was a cool day and the people had on what they could escape with. So we cooked. Refrigerators were raided, errands ran and we made a vat of chili. Some got out games and played with the kids, some of us manned the phones taking calls from worried family members. We never did have a service that day; but in so many ways, it was the best one we ever had.

As people moved around, personalities clashed, pastors came and went, TUMC began to decline. It was not one person, or one thing, but a combination of events, people and weariness that comes in fighting a losing battle. The Methodist church makes it quite difficult for a gay friendly church to operate. Threats of trials and sanctions hover over any ordained personnel that dares to think otherwise.

Finally, in 2008, the last straw broke and I severed my relationship with TUMC and the United Methodist Church in general. I was sad, I missed my friends, the routine of the Methodist liturgy, hymnal and service. But I was tired of being a second, or even no-class citizen. A new pastor was clear that the hierarchy wanted to "straighten out" the place. Two years later, I am still embroiled in a mess created by the church; but a recent letter from the bishop of the UMC effectively told me to fuck off.

In the last months of my attendance at TUMC if Greg was out of town (thus I would not get scolded for not being at church), I would sneak off and go to another church where some TUMC refugees had landed. The church was led by an openly gay pastor... and it was ok with everyone. Great music, nice people, a denomination, the United Church of Christ, that was more liberal than I. We even served wine at church functions and hosted a drag show that was called "Wake the Fuck up, America!"

There was a heaven on earth.

But, just for a while. Sadly another example of heaven's transient nature here on this mortal orb. Some of the same things that killed TUMC were also happening there. I am not sure exactly what transpired, both sides still harbor resentment. Suffice to say I stayed away.

My last church service was on December 20th, when we performed the annual Christmas cantata. As I put away my robe and heard the negative chattering about the former pastor, I decided I had enough. Stealthily, I took my name tag off my robe and put it in my pocket. They had no use for it. It was a symbol of my departure.

Few noticed.

I have not missed going to church on Sunday, but I do miss the interaction with people, one of the few times I see people these days without vodka being involved.

Reading a response to a Facebook post, put a seed in my mind. Actually, watered a kernel that had been there before. To paraphrase, "You know, I have never known a Buddhist to cause trouble or grief".

Hummmmm....

Spiritual Journey II

As a married dad, I felt it important for my kids to have a foundation in a church. My childhood was not exactly centered around the church, but I fell into the convention that exposure to church would instill the all important values of service, respect and humility.

Wrong.

It was ok at first, the small Methodist church in Jefferson City. The pastor happened to be a neighbor in the church owned parsonage so we had an easy welcome. Met some nice people, the kids met some good kids and all was well. A change of pastor brought in a fellow who was a good friend for many years until our paths separated, as happens in this mobile world.

But a nasty and public divorce shattered everything. I suddenly was the evil fag (no one ever called me that to my face, but I know it was said) who was to be avoided. People left because I was still a member and was allowed to participate in the church services. Awkward were the moments when my ex and I had to be together at a church function. I frequently sat alone. But it was my church and I would not budge. I didn't until I finally left town, moving to Kansas City for work.

This was my wake up call that "church" was not what I always thought it was. Where was the "love your neighbor", all the kum ba ya we were told was the plan? I quickly learned to be a part of the church and the family and all that meant conforming to the church hierarchy's view, not what I had read in the Bible. In the Methodist church, their man-made rule book "The Book of Discipline" supplanted the Bible as the guide for living and church views on the world. According to them, Jesus only loved me if I quit being gay and was a nice, conservative, family man. Who cared if most of them drank, beat their kids, cheated, hated. That was not as bad as being gay.... yuk.

Revelation: church is hypocrisy.

It continues to this day, no matter what denomination. The Methodist church continues to spread their hate for gay and lesbians, putting pastors on trial for showing their love. Making rules to squash the expression of support for gays and lesbians, right up there with the Catholics.

Moving to KC, changed things a lot for a long time. Through luck and a friend I had made here, I found a church, a Methodist one at that, where the congregation had taken a stand to say all were welcome, even sinful, nasty, family hating, fags like me. I went a couple times and joined on my 3-4th visit. I stayed for over 12 years, some of the best church time in my life. We worshiped, we worked, we celebrated, mourned, ate, drank, partied and prayed. Gays and lesbians, old and young, rich, poor, transient... it mattered not.

Revelation: church did not have to be hypocritical.

But, as with all things, decay set in.

(to be continued)

Spiritual Journey I

This has been brewing for a long time. No, not my coffee even though it is getting a bit old now, but this thought that something has to give in my spiritual life.

I am not a religious fanatic or all that devout a Christian, despite decades of church going. Frankly it is the decades of church going that has turned me away from being devout. I have experienced more emotional damage at church than in any other setting, with the possible exception of some horrible employment experiences.

Born a Methodist by family tradition, I went to church off and on with my family, they were sort of casual church goers. In high school I got involved in a Methodist church with friends and experienced my first church politics. A split occurred between the traditionalist and the fundies who wanted hand waving, tongue speaking nonsense. Youth pizza parties turned into holy spirit filled, holy rolling festivals. I backed off, sensing that something was amiss. A friend at that time told me I was going straight to hell as I did not live and breathe Jesus as he did. We drifted apart.

Church, Protestant Christianity at least, for me was becoming a world of condemnation and terrorism. "One Way", "The Way", "if you don't you won't" was the message. I just do not see black and white. I just don't get it. If this god and Jesus are so powerful, why is there such death and evil? Can't they let the good guys win just once? If I asked these questions, I got stares of annoyance, disbelief and pity. I was prayed for, a lot.

As I went off to college, I strayed away from church for a long time, and did not miss it. Meeting new friends, doing things for the first time, being on my own, learning and doing was enough epiphany and revelation. Maybe I was becoming too smart to just blindly follow a dogma, just maybe there are many ways. Could Jesus, god, angels, Noah and all that be just a myth like Zeus, Athena and Thor? In 1979, I did not care. I was exploring life and realizing I had been given an even more amazing gift that would bring me great joy and heartache. Even though I had gotten married, I sensed I was different. "I am married...I can't be gay", became my prayer to someone or something unseen.

More to follow.