Haters are haters no matter their religion.

This country’s Religious Right and the Republicans have steadily given us a diet of toxic homophobia for years. They have screamed in the public square that we are sick, we are sinners, we pose a threat to children, the family, even to civilization. They have blamed us for earthquakes and floods. They’ve even blamed us for the death of birds. It would be laughable if so many didn’t take them seriously. They have worked tirelessly to demonize us, to block our civil rights and to criminalize us. Recently, no less than three Republican presidential candidates attended an event where a Christian extremist minister called for the death of LGBTs.

It is outrageous that these same homophobic bigots would attempt to capitalize on the massacre of LGBT people in Orlando by pointing their fingers at another group they hate.

Persona Non Grata

About twenty-five years ago, I attended my last college party. I never felt very comfortable at those parties, so I only attended a few. It was hosted by a young man I liked and was rather friendly with. He was a little thin, not muscular, a little short, kind of nerdish and a bit femme. In other words, he was just my type, and I thought he was gorgeous. I assumed he would never be interested in someone as low and unworthy as me, but I was content to simply be his friend. I chatted with him on campus, at the local gay bar, in town, at the student LGBT club…wherever our paths crossed. I was a little nervous about going to his party, but I went because he was hosting it.

At one point, I was standing on the porch, and he was in the kitchen making snacks for his guests. We chatted through the open window, and suddenly he unexpectedly leaned over, poked his head out of the window and asked me for a kiss. I was quite taken aback. I wasn’t used to cute boys asking me to kiss them. But I assumed he wanted a nice, friendly kiss. So that’s what I gave him, a sweet little peck on the mouth.

A couple of hours later when the guests were leaving, he asked if I’d like to see his bedroom. He lived in a pretty good sized rented house that he shared with several other guys. He had the attic room, so we climbed two flights of stairs to get to it. He had a cozy room. Lots of character. Slopping walls and a dormer window. I looked around and made several complementary comments. I honestly liked the room, and I appreciated him showing it to me. Then I politely thanked him for his hospitality and left.

I went home thinking the night hadn’t been all that bad. I was still glowing from the kiss, and I enjoyed talking to my friend and a couple of other people. I was relieved that I had made it through the evening without anything embarrassing happening. I thought this, at least, would not be a night that haunted me.

I left town for several months, and in that time, I applied for Disability Social Security, and I was quickly approved. I was happy to have a steady income even if it was small, but I feared I was approved so fast because I was a certifiable weirdo. I was still in my twenties, and I was walking around with a Medicare card in my pocket. I felt separate and different from everybody else.

When I returned to Morgantown, I ran into my friend, and I happily greeted him, told him I had been out of town for while and that I was glad to see him again. A vague smile appeared on his face, and he told me he didn’t remember me and walked away.

I was horribly hurt by that. For several days, I was even suicidal, or more suicidal than normal. And for years every time I recalled that encounter, I felt deep shame and humiliation. I took it as confirmation that I wasn’t worth so much as common courtesy, much less genuine friendship or affection. I considered that he might have been telling the truth and that he genuinely didn’t remember me, but we had talked numerous times over the course of a year, and he had invited me to his house. How could he not remember me? It was a snub, and I knew it. But why? What did I do?

I was in my forties before I figured that out. I was so insecure that I could not imagine anyone being interested in me, and like many insecure people, I was slow to think about the insecurity of others. This sweet boy had probably been flirting with me and trying to drop hints for weeks. He had even kissed me and led me to his bedroom, but I was totally clueless. He probably interpreted my actions as a rejection, and he was probably hurt. No wonder I had become persona non grata. If he only knew how honored I would have been to hold him, kiss him and make love with him.

So It's Haldol for All

An American born psychopath who happens to be Muslim was apparently taught by his father to hate homos, just like many Christian parents teach their kids, and he goes out and murders 50 people in a gay nightclub with a military-style assault rifle that he purchased legally in this country.

Some Christian and Jewish extremists applaud him.

Some Christian extremists claim the victims got what they deserved because LGBTs and liberals have teamed up with Muslim extremists, and in any event, LGBTs are an offense to their god.

Some Christian extremists and their politician lapdogs—many of whom have spent their careers fighting for anti-LGBT legislation—refuse to even acknowledge the victims were LGBT.

The Republican presumptive presidential candidate—a repugnant, narcissistic, dangerous, stupid, unusually orange man—proposes the solution is to ban Muslims from entering the country, even though the killer was American, even though the presumptive presidential candidate has courted the Christian extremist vote, and they are every bit as anti-LGBT as their Muslim counterparts. The presumptive presidential candidate goes on to claim he is the most pro-LGBT person running for president, even though he has pledged to stack the courts and SCOTUS with people who will vote against LGBTs and that he will rescind all Executive Orders that protect LGBTs. And this person gets a boost in his poll numbers.

Meanwhile, the NRA responds just as they always do: “More guns! More guns!”

I’m beginning to think we should put Haldol in the drinking water.

Stinky Bits

I don’t believe Islam is any more inherently homophobic than Christianity or Judaism. The Orlando killer might have been Muslim, but he was also an American, surrounded by hateful, homophobic Christians who love plucking out quotes from their Christian Bible, quotes they claim prove LGBTs are worthy of death and eternal punishment. Allowing homophobic Christians, who tend to be Islamaphobic, to point their accusing fingers at Muslims and claim it’s all their fault would be to let them off the hook for spreading hate themselves. They are guilty, too.

I don’t think religion is in and of itself a bad thing, and I don’t think it’s helpful to ask people to stop being religious. You might as well ask them to stop wearing shoes or eating ice cream. They’re just going to go ahead and do it whether you like it or not. I don’t think it’s helpful to blame religious people in general. Sweeping and broad condemnation is too easy and unfair, and I certainly wouldn’t want the shooting in a gay nightclub to lead to a shooting in a church, or a mosque or a synagogue.

I also don’t want to deprive anyone of genuine beliefs that give them true comfort in this life no matter what I think of the beliefs myself. However, I think it is right and proper to ask religious people to let go of the homophobia in their religion and to denounce it and shun it. I think it is right and proper to ask people to stop being fundamentalist.

I have often encountered LGBTs and other liberal minded people who want to cling to the brand of Christianity they grew up with by recasting it and reinterpreting the clobber passages. They will claim that all of those passages in the Bible that are used against LGBTs have been misinterpreted. But I find some of their arguments to be specious, and I don’t think this defense of biblical literalism and belief in biblical inerrancy will work. There will always be people who will interpret the Bible in the very way you don’t want them to interpret it. The Bible is simply too dense, too vague, and we are too far removed from the culture that produced it for it not to be wide open to interpretation.

I don’t think everything the ancients believed and wrote down was wonderful, beautiful and true. And I don’t think faith requires you to believe that. Belief in God and Jesus do not require you to believe Paul and the author of Leviticus were perfect. I think Christians have to have the courage to say that if the homophobic reading of Paul is correct, than that simply means that Paul, at least in regard to homosexuality, was a dumb ass. It’s not really hard to think Biblical authors were all too human if you open up your eyes and allow some of the horrendous things in the Bible to sink in. Doesn’t mean your faith is of no value or the Bible as a whole is worthless. But there are some bits in there that stink to high heaven, and I’m not just talking about the clobber passages.

Please stop making excuses and lending credence to hate.

Angel Eggs

When I was growing up in the ‘60s, ‘70s and ‘80s, West Virginia was culturally isolated, and much of my family was part of the underclass. Some were outright rednecks. I’ve seen what multigenerational poverty can do to a family. No one could remember a family member who had any education beyond high school. Most didn’t even graduate high school. No one read books aside from the Bible. No one had been outside the U.S. except to go to war. Few had traveled outside the state. Some had never left the county. Most lived in small, dilapidated houses and drove old cars that broke down regularly. Life was always a struggle, and many died young. Most died penniless. My mother came from a family of nine children. Six of them are already gone. Only one so far has lived to see her 70^th birthday. Neither of my mother’s parents lived to see 70.

It’s a complicated situation and there is no easy explanation for it or an easy solution. Lack of opportunities, lack of role models, lack of wisdom that comes from higher education and travel, all of that played a part. So did expectation. Someone who has never seen a family member get ahead might be less inclined to believe it’s possible for them to have a better life. And if you live among neighbors who believe no one in your family will ever amount to anything, that will have an impact, too. Teenage pregnancy, alcoholism, drug addiction, depression, anxiety, fatalism, criminal behavior… It all takes its toll. And it all has a way of being passed from parent to child so that the pathology repeats itself.

I’ve been thinking about how fundamentalism might play into this soul destroying rut. This country was founded by Puritans who believed in predestination. The way you knew you were part of the elect was by your ability to live an upstanding life. Those who followed the rules and lived the way they were told were thought to be blessed. The people of West Virginia abandoned that idea, but they quickly adopted an evangelical version of Christianity with it’s heavy emphasis on the idea that some are “saved” and others are not.

My father’s family did a little better. They had a slightly higher standard of living, and they were emotionally more stable. Many of them were religious. They went to church and quoted the Bible regularly. Their modest homes were always clean. Every time they left the house, their clothes were clean and their hair was combed. They smiled and shook hands with everyone they saw, and they never swore. A fellow Christian was often referred to as brother or sister. Some might conclude that churchgoing had improved their lives, but I’m not so sure.

There was a divide between those who went to church and those who didn’t, and there was an ever present pressure on those who had resisted to break down and join a church. Any low point in a nonchurchgoer’s life was an opportunity for someone to evangelize. Give your heartache to Jesus, and all would be fine, or so the story went.

Some might assume that those who didn’t go to church, like most in my mother’s family, weren’t believers. This is not so. They believed the same things my father’s family believed. They knew no better. They weren’t aware of alternative worldviews. It might be that they actually had more faith than the churchgoers, a more idealistic expectation of how a Christian was supposed to live. And they couldn’t imagine living up to it. They knew they’d always want a drink occasionally, or smoke, or have sex with someone they weren’t married to. They knew their first instinct would be to fight back if someone hurt them, not turn the other cheek. So they couldn’t imagine being good enough to be a Christian, and this caused them to live their lives as outcasts.

I never noticed any significant difference in the inherent goodness of those who were “saved” and those who were not. And I lived among these people long enough to know that the “saved” sometimes did things they weren’t supposed to do, according to their professed convictions. One of my mother’s sisters had a baby when she was a girl back in the 40s, and she refused to tell anyone who the father was. She also refused to give the baby up. My cousin Tommy was a grown man by the time I came along, and I heard the adults around me repeatedly say that Garnet had never married Tommy’s father. Everybody knew this already, but they kept saying it. They never stopped saying it. It was a way to keep them both in their place. Another relative got pregnant when she was a girl in the ’50s, but her parents were churchgoers, and she was sent away for several months. When she returned alone, everyone acted as if she had been on vacation. No one ever spoke of that, and I didn’t hear about it until I was an adult.

My Aunt Patsy, another one of my mother’s sisters, has never been religious, but she remains one of the sweetest people I’ve ever met. My Uncle Richard, one of my father’s brothers-in-law, decided to become a self-ordained minister back in the ’80s. He took to lecturing us about the demons that always surround us and how deviled eggs should be renamed angel eggs. He insisted that Jesus did not turn water into fermented wine and that it was really “rich” grape juice. He became so tedious that I could hardly stand to be in the same room with him. But the fundamentalist culture in which I was raised would have you believe ego driven hypocrites like my uncle were “saved,” but my funny, gregarious, generous aunt was not.

There Are More Things...

John 16:12-13 (NIV): “I have much more to say to you, more than you can now bear. But when he, the Spirit of truth, comes, he will guide you into all the truth.”

John 20:30 (NIV): “Jesus performed many other signs in the presence of his disciples, which are not recorded in this book.”

John 21:25 (NIV): “Jesus did many other things as well. If every one of them were written down, I suppose that even the whole world would not have room for the books that would be written.”

The funny thing about fundamentalism is that biblical authors tended to shy away from grandiose statements about their writings being a final and complete statement of truth. Even if one biblical author did make such a statement, it wouldn’t apply to the Bible as a whole because each book was written independently. The anthology came later, hundreds of years later.

The Bible as ultimate and final authority comes from the Protestant rebuke of the RCC. They claimed the RCC had gotten away from the basics and made things up. But what the early Protestants and modern fundamentalists fail to acknowledge is the anthology that has come to be known as the Bible was formed by the early orthodox movement. That movement became the Orthodox Church in the eastern, Greek speaking part of the empire and the RCC in the Latin speaking west. There were other Christian books early orthodox Christians rejected. The Bible that we have today is as much Roman Catholic as the sacraments and salvation through faith and works.

And if you’re going to claim the Bible is the literal and inerrant word of God, then I don’t see how you can get around the verses above that make it pretty clear there is more to be told and that more will be revealed at a later date.

“There are more things in Heaven and Earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.”—William Shakespeare

Turns out Shakespeare was being pretty Biblical when he said that.

Tempered Hope

I’m on disability Social Security. I live in a rent subsidized apartment. I’m socially isolated, and I don’t own or drive a car. A computer glitch could lead to the suspension of my income at any time, and it’s remarkably easy to lose a rent subsidy, something that takes months or years to secure. So homelessness is a real and constant danger. I live in fear of it. And I know I’m not alone. Many have already fallen through the cracks. Many more live on the edge. The mentally ill are especially vulnerable.

My mother was disabled. She was not lazy or good for nothing. She was a good person with a wildly debilitating brain disease known as schizophrenia. It is not something you can just get over. She was at the mercy of the society in which she lived. That society refused to provide her with regular medical care. At the age of 63, she was diagnosed with stage 4 cancer and died less than three months later. Sadly, what happened to her is not unusual. The lives of others are cut short all the time because of inadequate medical care.

The cost of a college education continues to rise at an alarming rate. Many young people are forgoing the dream of a college education. Some who would have been doctors and engineers will live their lives struggling to get ahead. Many others who chose to go to college will never get out from under the debt. It will eat away at their income making it hard for them to own their own homes, save for retirement and send their kids to college.

We continue to burn fossil fuels, thus funding repressive governments as we do damage to our environment.

I believe these problems and others have political solutions, and I think it’s unacceptable that we continue to ignore these problems because it would be inconvenient for those who benefit from the status quo to address them. The need for change is urgent for many. Some are dying.

But the political will just isn’t there, at least not yet. One of the two major parties in this country utterly denies the problems are real. The other one acknowledges the problems but seems to think the solutions are pipedreams. …maybe, someday, we can do something about those things. I believe the person they’re about to nominate thinks the solutions are, more or less, pipedreams.

However, I have some amount of hope. Not long ago, having a president who was something other than white seemed like a pipedream. Not long ago, it seemed having a female nominee was a pipedream. Not long ago, marriage equality seemed like a pipedream. So did LGBTs serving openly in the military.

When President Obama was elected, he refused to publicly support marriage equality, and he was not all that enthusiastic about ending DADT. But we kept the pressure on, and he evolved. Now his support for LGBT Americans will be a significant part of his legacy.

This November, with my tempered share of hope and with fingers crossed, I will vote for Hillary Clinton to be our next president.