Taking a Stand; or, Jumping the Shark; or, What Would Jesus Do?

I know this is supposed to be a footloose and fancy-free blog about gay weddings and Kelly Clarkson and chicken pots, and not a serious and ruminating blog about my personal struggle towards self-actualization and personal redemption, but in the end it's my blog, so...

Last night I went to hear Gene Robinson, the gay Episcopal bishop from New Hampshire; Sharon Kleinbaum, the head of the NYC-based "largest GLBT synagogue in the world"; and Dr. Traci West, a radical black feminist theologian from Drew University, speak at a "Faith and Fairness" symposium put on by the Human Rights Campaign.

And it was very much one of those things where you sit there all inspired and have all these YES and A-HA ideas flying through your head and you can't wait to get home to tell everyone about your new lease on life....and then somewhere between Union Theological Seminary and the 1/9 train, all those things fall out your ear and fly down Broadway stuck to the wheel of a garbage truck, and you get home and try to talk about it and all you have to show is a few halting thoughts, and an urgent furrow in your brow, and a few punch lines that are missing their set-ups.

So my honest word will have to suffice when I say that these speakers were all amazing. They talked about how religion has become this dirty word, in the world at large but particularly in the gay world, and how being a Christian or a Jew or a Muslim - - but, mostly, Christian - - has become something to be embarrassed about, because all the Christians and Jews and Muslims who Hate the Gays have somehow absconded with the whole thing.

And how it's tempting to just throw in the towel and wait for a better day to come, but really that's not a useful approach because it's not going to get better unless people make it better, and then they got into all this stuff about needing GLBT (I prefer the blanket "gay", but GayLesbianBisexualTransgendered-and-Sometimes-I-For-Intersex is more politically conscious) people of faith to get involved and respond to all these crazies on their turf and using their own language and etc. etc., and how gay people need to stop throwing in the towel and giving up, because God Loves Us and God Made Us Who We Are and we have as much right to participate (or not) in our faith as anyone else does.

And Rabbi Kleinbaum showed a photo of six of the biggest world religion leaders standing together last spring, and she commented on how none of these men would ever be caught dead standing anywhere together, let alone coming together for a common cause, but that the thing that had brought them all together last spring in Israel was the fact that they all Hate the Gays and are united in Keeping the Gays Out. Which is pathetic, really, but mostly scary.

And Traci West got into all this deep and crazy and fascinating stuff about the connections between misogyny and racism and homophobia, and how these things are all inextricably linked and mostly somehow come back to misogyny - - "homophobia is just one room in the larger hotel of misogyny" - - and how marriage is being defined mainly as a heterosexual bond between a man and a woman, rather than as a bond between two people that is based on love and equality and respect and fairness, and how this is tied into why it's okay for men to beat their wives, and how gay people should be jumping at this chance to "be revolutionary" and redefine what marriage and faith and etc. etc. really mean.

And Gene Robinson was just really inspiring, and told us we were all going to Heaven, and even as I write this I think Holy shit, stop, Groomzilla, this is dangerous territory, you're going to come off as some kind of religious zealot, quick, try to think of something interesting to write about muffin tins..., but the truth of the matter is, believe it or not, I am a spiritual person. A religious person. I grew up Catholic, and my faith and all the customs and trappings that went along with it have played a very central role in my life.

Or they did up until a year or two ago, anyways, when the church that had always sheltered and protected and calmed me, suddenly dumped me out onto the streets, betrayed me, told me that not only was I not good enough to be a Catholic, but that I was not good enough to be a human being. Or rather, it had always been saying these things, but suddenly it was saying them Out Loud, and printing it in the newspapers. And the truth of the matter is that I live in the great big bubble of New York City, and there is a Catholic church down the street which is gayer than the gayest of all things gay, but the truth still stands that the church as a whole is decidedly anti-Me, and that's something I have had a lot of trouble wrapping my head around.

So I stopped going to church. Stopped talking about anything related to my faith. Stopped defending my religion. How could I, when it was populated by so many indefensible people?

And I've suffered for it. As M. tells me - - and this is significant, because M. is M., but also because M. is not a fan of organized religion - - I've "been different". I'm the first to admit that I do not buy into a lot of the Catholic religion - - the misogyny, the birth control, the abortion, the pedophilic scapegoating - - but the Real Stuff, the faith, the connection to Something Greater, the security and love and hope that my faith has always given me, are things I suffer without. And, true, they're mostly things I can do at home, do on my own. Yoga is also something I can do at home, and I've even bought the tapes to try. But like yoga, religion is something I do much better when I'm part of a crowd, part of something structured, organized. I do better with someone else leading the exercises, better when I'm part of a collective.

I'm not sure where all of this leaves me. Part of me is scared that the inspiration I felt last night is slowly draining out my toes and will soon be once again replaced by hurt and cynicism and fear and anger. Part of me is scared, as I have always been, to get "too involved" in organized religion, to lose my sense of self, my independence, to buy into a lot of things I don't really buy into. Mostly, last night reminded me that I do believe in God, and that God does love me, and that if going to church is something that makes me feel good, it's something I should be doing - - should be able to do, should feel comfortable doing, should feel comfortable admitting to doing.

So maybe I'll try to go to Mass again soon. More likely, I'll try out the Episcopal church down the street, something I've waffled over for the better part of the past 12 months. (Really, growing up Catholic - - and probably other religions as well - - makes it hard to consider going to any other kind of church without also being wracked by guilt and shame and fear).

And there will still be crazy Christians - - and crazy Everyone Elses as well - - who make it hard to cop to being a Christian, and make me want to run away. There will also be lots of gays - - and lots of Everyone Elses - - who wrinkle their noses and furrow their brows when they talk about organized religion, and make the Second-Grader in me feel like I need to run and hide.

But for me -- Groomzilla, coveter of chicken pots -- religion and faith and spirituality and God and - - stomach churn - - yes, Jesus (let's not forget what a happening guy Jesus was, before the crazies took hold of him and simultaneously turned him into a dirty word as well as a poster child for lunacy), are things that make me feel good, make my life better, my days brighter, my future a little less intimidating. And God does love me. And that's a good thing.