Whinging It

Updates

• I presented a name slideshow to my friends, and they seemed to think it was all fun and games and not the very serious presentation it was.  And now they are more determined than ever to not let me in on the naming of their child.  The nerve.

• I sent out a follow-up letter to my old friend the Catholic church to let her know she could no longer count me among her faithful.  I haven’t heard a peep back, but I wasn’t really expecting any response.  The catharsis happened with the original letter.

• Chickens are ridiculously noisy in the mornings.  Not roosters.  Chickens.  Also, their very favorite food is shrimp shells.

Phenomenon
I volunteer as a peer counselor at a GLBT hotline.  Mostly we take calls from people who are gay or think they might be, and we help to normalize their feelings and assure them that they are normal and that this characteristic is immutable.  It’s a really fulfilling way to spend my Monday nights and I really enjoy it.

There is a fascinating trend in some of the calls, though.  About once every two weeks, I get a call from guys who “accidentally” had sex with another guy in the shower at the gym, and now are panicked because they think that made them gay.*

The way that it is described as going down (he he!) is almost unchangeable: Guy enters locker room after workout.  Other guy is in there showering.  Then there is a hazy period that is typically referred to as “and then things happened,” “one thing led to another,” or “and then the next thing I knew…”.

I’ve never asked for the specifics of how one thing led to another in these locker room trysts because I like to play out the possible scenarios in my head:

“Hey,” says Guy1.  “Is that scented soap?”
“Nah,” says Guy2.  “It’s just my natural musk.”
Bom-chicka-wah-wah

It’s all crazy interesting.

*This is a common call even outside of the gym shower sex.  A guy will have a homo-erotic experience and think that the experience makes him gay.  The peer counselors explain that experiences don’t change sexual orientation, but that gay-ness or bi-ness is determined by attraction.  I should note that I generally check to make sure the sex was consensual, and it always was.

With many thanks and apologies to petergoodman at 43 Things, from whom I borrowed a lot of this text, and for doing the research on asking to be excommunicated by the Catholic Church:

April 16, 2010

Father _________________

Dear Father ________,

Re:      Actus Formalis Defectionis Ab Ecclesia Catholica

I am hereby formally defecting from the Catholic Church and request an execution of the Actus Formalis Defectionis Ab Ecclesia Catholica for myself to begin this process in accordance with canons 1086, 1117 and 1174 of the Code of Canon law as well as notification Prot. N. 10279/2006 from the Pontifical Council for Legislative Texts (PCLT). I understand that the motu proprio Omnium in mentem of October 16, 2009 suppressed some of these canons, but it also appears that the suppressions had to do with Church law regarding approval of marriage.

This request is being made by me personally, freely and consciously in order to sever all bonds of Catholic communion—faith, sacraments, and pastoral governance. This process shall be configured as my true separation from the constitutive elements of the life of the Church as a willful act of apostasy of my part.

I am providing herein all necessary information with an explanation for my decision.

I was born on _____________ at ___________ Hospital in _________________. I am not in possession of any original church documents, but parish records should indicate the exact date of my  baptism was ___________, 1976 at ____________________.  My first communion took place at _____________ in the Spring of 1984, and confirmation was held in the Spring of 1994, also at __________. I have copied _____________ at _________ on this letter to inform them of my wish to sever my relations with the Catholic Church.

I have chosen to leave the Catholic Church for three simple reasons:

1. I am homosexual;
2. I do not believe in a God as depicted by the Catholic Church; and
3. I want nothing to do with your organization.

I have not considered myself to be Catholic for over 15 years and have always been resistant to the Church’s teachings. I arrived at this conclusion after many years of study, observation, research and introspection.

This request stems from a recent discussion with some former nuns of my acquaintance.  In talks where we were criticizing the Pope’s inaction in dealing with rampant pedophilia in his ranks while outrageously blaming the gay community when this information was revealed, I noted that I grew up Catholic but left the Church years ago.  I was reminded by my friends that, regardless of my personal sexual orientation, beliefs and choices, the Catholic Church will always count me as a member due to my baptism and confirmation.  This is why I have decided to formally cut all ties with the Church.

1. I am homosexual.

Father, I am gay.  I am aware that the Church deems this at best a “lifestyle” and at worst an illness, but the fact remains that I am gay and no one is hurt by this.  I was born gay, and I do not believe that God errs in any of his creations. I am in a loving relationship with my wife of nine years, and we are daily blessed by God’s love for us and our affection for one another.

I volunteer at a hotline that supports gay individuals in times of need or stress, and I am troubled by the number of youth I talk to who, because of the Church’s teachings, are under the impression that they are not beloved by God. Often, their parents and other family members use Church doctrine to reject their gay teenagers, leaving these children homeless and suicidal.  I do not feel it is appropriate, ever, to leave a child without a home, food, or familial love because of something he/she cannot control.  And believe, me, Father, that if these children could choose to not be gay, they would.  Some have even been sent to Church-funded organizations that promise to turn them into “ex-gays.”  As the 0.05% success rate of these organizations attests, it only serves to make these children self-loathing. This is abhorrent.

I realize that the Church has a caveat in that it feels that homosexuals could simply choose to not have sexual relations (and, following the no-masturbation rule, can also not self-pleasure).  This is silly in the extreme.  Self-denial of an act that can seal love with a spouse, regardless of whether he/she is of the same gender, is martyrdom without reason.

2. I do not believe in a God as depicted by the Catholic Church.

I have felt God’s presence and God’s love all of my life, but I believe He is all-forgiving and loving of all of his creations.  He sees our souls, not our color or sexual orientation.  Like the best possible parent, he loves us for who we are.  God requires no intermediary to interpret our thoughts and intentions; He sees us as perfect beings who he created.

3. I want nothing to do with your organization.

I cannot be a part of an organization that protects pedophiles but believes in denying life-saving condoms to AIDS-infested Africa.

I cannot, in any way, condone a religion that would rather stop all support for orphaned children than see them raised in a loving gay household.

I refuse to have my name associated with the idea that God requires any sort of red tape or intermediary in which to grant forgiveness.

I do not condone the Church’s use of fear and superstition to cajole its followers into doing what it wants.

I will not be a part of anything that does not acknowledge that males and females are deserving of equal status, nor that they have equal control over their own bodies.  I atone for my past Catholic participation with donations to Planned Parenthood to make birth control more accessible to women who have no other means of obtaining it.

I do not dispute that, historically, the Church has made many advancements in civilization and has helped a lot of the world’s poor and needy.  However, in this day and age, essentially the only thing I do like about the Catholic Church is its art collection.

* * *

I have turned a blind eye long enough. I thought because I no longer attended mass, I was not complicit in any of these atrocious behaviors, but the fact that my person is counted among the Catholic faithful is anathema to me.

Please do not construe any part of this letter as argumentum ad hominem. You have just as much right to believe what the Pope directs as I have to not believe. Nevertheless, I offer the following personal declarations which clarify my commitment to this liberating personal milestone, for the record:

I hereby reject all of the dogmata and official teachings of roman catholicism that conflict with the idea of a loving God.

I renounce all blessings, benefits, graces, sanctifications and advantages supposedly conferred on me by the Church or by any religious act done by me, to me or on my behalf with or without my informed consent, in the past, present or future.

I condemn as preposterous the idea of original sin, and renounce any and all baptismal rituals done on my behalf to wash it away.

I reject the sacramental bond of belonging to the body of Christ that is the Church, conferred by the baptismal character, and I strongly refute any claim or acceptance of this as an ontological and permanent bond.

I reject as absurd the idea of an atoning sacrifice and spurn its presumed benefits.

I do believe that a charismatic man named Jesus could have walked the earth, and deduct that he was an enlightened, extremely empathetic figure who preached the power of love and whose message could be stated simply as “Do no harm.” I do not believe that the Catholic Church bears any resemblance to such a man.

I do not believe in any form of a God that requires constant praise and adoration from His creation.

I do not believe that any book written by man can be the direct word of God. The only true inspiration is imagination and the Bible has plenty of that. I enjoy it as a fascinating anthology of historical fiction. I know that such a work reflects the culture and society of its own time, in which illiterate nomadic tribes suffered under repressive and corrupt theocracies. I cannot follow such ancient rules to guide my life today.

I thank God, but I also thank scientists, artists, doctors, soldiers, entrepreneurs, writers, firemen and others who have made the world a better place simply because they care about humanity.

For these reasons, I hereby request to be officially unbaptized and excommunicated as soon as possible, to have my name removed from all church accounts, to provide that this act be noted in the baptismal registry (cfr. can. 535, § 2) with explicit mention of the occurrence of a “defectio ab Ecclesia catholica actu formali” and to record that I am no longer a member of the Catholic Church according to the PCLT. I want no association whatsoever with this Church for the rest of my life and expect these wishes to be honored.

Should you require further information to proceed, please advise accordingly.

I look forward to receiving official confirmation of this action at your earliest convenience. Should I not hear from you within two months, I will send a registered letter to ensure its delivery.

Sincerely,

Whinger

cc:       ____________

I’ve been reading Rechelle’s blog at “My Sister’s Farmhouse.”  Rechelle recently became an atheist, and I find her experience fascinating.  It helps that she’s a bang-up writer, but the clarity with which she is now seeing the world — as if for the first time, is incredibly gratifying to read.  And I know the feeling of beating yourself up because you weren’t self-aware enough to acknowledge something you know you knew all along.

I find her comments section a microcosm of America.  People are tied between genuine angst that she no longer knows God, applause for being brave enough to stand up for what she believes, and a general appreciative apathy for her right to do with her soul as she likes.

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SCENE: Earlier this week

Wife: You haven’t posted in awhile.
Whinger: Yeah.  I’ve been working on a long one.
Wife: What about?
Whinger: About how I hate Christians.
Wife: Alrighty then… I can see that this might be a long one.

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Despite the exchange above, I don’t HATE Christians.  My hatred is reserved almost exclusively for child molesters and the bastard(s) who canceled “Veronica Mars.” But I would be lying if I said I didn’t cringe every time someone describes him/herself as a “good Christian man” or a “woman of God.”  While I don’t hate every person who believes that Jesus Christ is his/her lord and saviour, I do get the heebie-jeebies when I see almost any religious leader in the newspaper or on television.  Christians creep me out.

I myself am Christian, but it’s gotten to a point where I’m afraid to even admit it because as a whole, Christians have made ourselves into a giant pile of douchedness.  As a group, and as individuals, we are pushy, arrogant, self-righteous, homophobic, recently (if not currently) racist, and hypocritical.

Wheee! Let’s have some tight-assed party in which we all condemn one another’s attire and then try to out-prude each other by not dancing, touching, or drinking anything harder than kool-aid so that we can then go home with clear consciences to make sweet, God-condoned, missionary love to our opposite-sex spouses in the hopes and intention that we will conceive and bring a child onto Earth to spread the word of the Lord!

It’s a cliche, but it does make me wonder if Jesus (if Jesus existed) would want to hang out with Christians. He might be impressed with their over-zealous machinations to turn all governments into theocracies (and not the non-Christian kind of theocracy of course), but I get the feeling he’d also just get creeped out by the button-down shirts and Christian rock and go find a leper camp in which to spend his time.

When I say that I am Christian, I’m referring to my culture as much as anything.  I grew up in an Irish Catholic family in a community largely populated with varying Christian faiths.  (I knew one Jewish family and one Muslim family.)  But the stickler police don’t see Christianity as a culture, even though it’s shaped history with its influence on leaders and governments and colonization.

Because of my beliefs, I’m really not defined as Christian by most Christians.  I believe in God and/or some sort of spiritual omnipresence, but I have serious doubts about a man named Jesus being God’s only son who was born just so he could be sacrificed for my sins.  I find fault with the reasoning that he had to die for my trespasses because the children inherit the sins of their fathers, and all humans are guilty of Eve eating a goddamned piece of fruit UNTIL THE END OF TIME except for how God allowed his son to be crucified.

Way to hold a grudge, God.

And while we’re on the subject: As for Jesus’ crucifixion…no thank you, God.  I’d rather you not kill ANYONE and/or have anyone killed in cold blood, and especially your son, for my sake.  It’s just so…Catholic to have a religion in which your whole belief system is based in the guilt that someone died for you.

Happy Easter!  Now where’s the chocolate bunny?  I will bite its head off.

As I said, I believe in God because sometimes I can just feel that there’s something there that’s bigger than me.  I call it God because it’s easy, but it could just as easily be a mass consciousness or a giant invisible dragon named Dooley.  The God I know is kind, though.  God is forgiving and loving and a good listener.  And God cares about me…not in the abstract, but me: Whinger. I believe in Jesus to the extent that there was probably a nice, charismatic man named Jesus who preached about God and who died for it. In my most Christian moments, I think Jesus was divinely ordained to show humanity what it can aspire to, but for the most part, Jesus=My Homeboy Martyr.

I recognize that my belief in God may very well be belief in something I hope is there.  I do hope God is there.  But if he’s not?  That’s okay, too.  I’m not living my life for my afterlife.  I’m living my life to enjoy it and maintain who I am while attempting to not hurt others without cost to myself. I don’t really need God to tell me to not steal, rape or kill.  Those things are pretty well covered by my local laws and my own desire to not do them.

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I do not and will never understand the stereotypical Christian want to police the mis-deeds of others, especially when the mis-deeds are not hurting anyone.  I do not understand the compulsion to save the souls of others who do not want saving, thank you very much.

The closest I can get to a metaphor is what I would do if I came across a man living in a precarious situation, like on the side of a cliff or in the middle of a flooding creek.  “Hey,” I would say. “Perhaps you would be better off somewhere safer.  Let me help.”

If he offered up a hand for me to grab and take him to safety, I would take it and help him and feel all warm and fuzzy about myself.  But if he said, “No thanks.  I’m good,” I would move along and decide to each his own.  Perhaps he has a fancy contraption I didn’t see that enables him to live well in his chosen environment. Perhaps he knows his environment better than I and doesn’t feel or see danger there.  The truth is that I wouldn’t know the story of his life and existence and whether he needed saving.  Maybe he’s in the safest place in the world.  And it would be weird of me to continue to try to insist that I knew better than he about his own situation.

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I’ll just say it: Prop. 8 made me prejudiced against the Latter-Day Saints (Mormons to most of us). It’s not right to condemn a group of people without taking into account the individual, and I try to stay aware of the prejudice so that I can be conscious of when it might be affecting my judgment about someone I know or meet.  I don’t know why it didn’t make me prejudiced against Catholics.  Perhaps it’s that I grew up Catholic and know with certainty the complete disregard that everyday Catholics have for what their bishops or the Pope says.  “Oh yeah?” says the average Catholic.  “That’s nice that the Pope doesn’t believe in birth control.  That reminds me that I should pick up some condoms while I’m at the store.”

My house is situated such that from almost any approach to it, I can see Oakland’s Mormon Cathedral, a building that resembles a lit-up spaceship.  I used to think: “Huh.  Funny building.”  But now, every day when I see it (every goddamn single day), I think: “Why couldn’t you let me be?”

The majority of the Christian denominations don’t think I can be a Christian because I’m gay.  I know that I did not choose to be gay and have the American Psychiatric Association behind me in agreement that sexual orientation is not anything that anyone makes a conscious decision about.

It is cruel to tell people to not love who they love.  It is cruel to tell them they will not attain salvation because they choose to start a family with someone of the same gender.  There is no other way to spin it: It’s mean.

(It should be noted that, yes, I know other religions even kill people for being gay and that it’s much worse under their reign, but I’m not sure that “At least Christians don’t kill the gays,” is that great of a slogan.)

And here’s where the Christians revel in their own cruelty.  “The Bible said we’d be reviled,” they boast.  “For telling the truth, we would be punished.”  There’s something sick about feeling proud for taking flack for bullying a minority group.

I think I’ll just dive right in and hope no one notices I’ve been gone for awhile.  As blah, blah, blah work and blah, blah, blah avid following of the Prop. 8 trial with obligatory sputtering at the gall, the SHEER GALL that some people have in thinking it’s okay to define the rights of others.  Blah.

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Wife and I spent the holiday season in an orgy of unbridled eating, drinking, and general making of merry and sugary treats.  This included the fantastic new-to-me situation of having a *bucks on the ground floor of my new office, meaning that I could get an eggnog latte without even putting on a coat.  This may or may not have led to getting an eggnog latte every day.  Which may or may not have led to a current diet of mainly vegetables.

But hear how cute Wife is: Poor Wife was subjected to my whinging about how planning lower calorie lunches is HARD (Keep in mind that she plans, shops for and prepares all suppers.  I clean up, but she’s such a clean cook that mainly I just stick things in the dishwasher and wipe down a countertop or two.), and I can’t find anything near me for lunch that is both delicious and nutritious without being so expensive that I am, for all intents and purposes, working to support my lunch habit.  She listened to all of this tripe from her bratty, spoiled spouse and then she started MAKING MY LUNCH.  With like four courses including a main dish, two veggies, and dessert!  Like butterscotch pudding!  That doesn’t even come in a pudding pack cup! Pudding!  Both chocolate AND butterscotch!  And Wife isn’t even a martyr about the situation, but says that she just wants to make my lunch because it makes me so happy (which it so does).

Let us all learn from this: Whinging solves all problems.

Let us also note that she is mine, all mine, and you cannot have her or I will stomp my feet.

I met with a whippersnapper sales wunderkind yesterday, and for reasons too boring to go into, we were discussing the 1989 San Francisco earthquake.  “Were you here?” he asked me, indicating the office in which we were sitting.

I smiled sweetly at the youth and said, “No…I was in seventh grade…in Colorado.” I gave him an out with the Colorado so we could both pretend that I don’t look old enough to have been working there for at least twenty years.  Not that there’s anything wrong with that.

Being an idiotic whippersnapper, he scrunched up his forehead in thought: “So that would make you…how old?”

Why is it not taught to all males that they should never, ever, ever, ever ask a woman her age?  Why?

Me: “Thirty-three.”

Him: “Good for you!”

The hell? I was half a mind to take him out back to the woodshed and teach him some manners.  I also purposefully used the phrase “what all the crazy kids are doing these days” later in the meeting, because I am nothing if not a smartass.

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Wife and I have, of course, been watching Glee on Fox this season. And while I adore it with all of my TV-loving self and can’t get enough of a show that dabbles in themes of high school social castes, musical reflections of society, and cheerleading, there was a scene last week that was a little…off for me.

***Note that if you have not seen last week’s episode, there will be a spoiler here, but I have thoughtfully refrained from discussing this until now for all of the DVR heads like us.***

So the scene in question was the one where Kurt comes out to his dad, and his dad is not shocked about it and says he (the dad) has known since Kurt was a baby.  And then the dad says something along the lines of Kurt being gay makes the dad uncomfortable and he doesn’t really like it (the gay), but nothing could make him stop loving Kurt.

I volunteer at an LGBT Hotline where a lot of teenagers call to discuss issues with their families and/or how to come out to their parents, and Kurt’s dad’s response is a good reflection of what occurs when the majority of teenagers come out.  Their parents LOVE the kid, but they don’t like The Gay.

I find this response of love with caveat abhorrent. Sexuality itself is a benign trait. Individuals have no more control over to whom they’re attracted than they do over their natural skin color. I mean, I wish I could explain why I think both Angelina Jolie and Seth Rogen are attractive, and I wish I could explain why I get sunburnt walking to my car, but I can’t. It’s part of who I am, not part of what I do.  It’s not like I’ve had sex with Ms. Jolie or Mr. Rogen, and while I suppose I could put on sunscreen to go to the parking lot, it still doesn’t resolve the fact that my avatar should be Casper.

Traits that a person is either born with and/or develops before rational enough to make decisions, I believe, are not cause for a parent to express dissatisfaction.

Wife disagrees with me. She thinks it’s reasonable that a parent be able to express his/her discomfort with a gay child, but I just see it in terms of if one of my parents told me he/she was not fond of the fact that I have brown hair. It’s clearly the parent’s issue, and there’s nothing to be gained by burdening the kid with it.

To be clear: I do not think parents should out-and-out lie to their gay kids that things are sunshine and roses and can I purchase you some contraception?  I think it’s reasonable to discuss if parents are uncomfortable with the idea of gay sex, the “gay lifestyle,” or rainbow flags, but I just don’t think it’s okay to tell a child that his/her sexuality is wrong.  It seems cruel to me.

And to be clear again: I also believe it’s okay for adults to engage in any consensual sexual acts they want to, and by no means intend this to reflect any sort of “hate the sin but love the sinner” mentality. (Aren’t we all sinners?) Just as I think it would be appropriate for a parent to discourage a straight kid from having sex because of pregnancy/std/crying-jags-upon-breakups fears, I think it would be appropriate to discourage a gay kid from getting too sexually adventurous without considering potential emotional and physical consequences.