QColumn: A Gay In The Life: A-Men

A-Men
By Steve Prince
“Do you want to come with me to church?” James asked.
Huh?
“To church?” I asked.
“Yeah,” James said, “I’m singing a solo in the choir this Sunday.”
“I dunno,” I said skeptically. I’m really not a fan of organized religion. “I guess it’s Episcopal. I grew up Catholic. They’re similar, right?”
“Believe me,” James said with sarcasm, “you are not familiar with this church.”
He then told me that St. John’s, the church he sings at, is one of the most gay-affirmative churches in the country.
“It’s gay, gay, gay,” he said. “Hell, even one of the deacons is gay!”
I finally conceded. I wasn’t too comfortable with the whole thing. It had been years since I’d actually been in a church.
Religion and I have—I guess you could say—a history.

I grew up in a small town Catholic Church. It wasn’t that fancy or ornate. However, across the street was a beautiful grey gothic church. In the front of the church hung two beautiful crimson doors. They were massive. One day I asked my mom how come we couldn’t go to that church.
“It is pretty isn’t it?” she agreed. “Well we have our church, but if you want to go we can. It’s Episcopal—it’s pretty much Catholic-light.”
I never went to that church but I’d always wanted to. Even on my last visit home I drove by it and actually stopped to see if the doors were open, but they were locked.
When Sunday came I drove with James to his service and gasped while walking into the main building—the church was gorgeous. I almost felt like I was in England because it looked so old. I looked on a sidewall and noticed a stain glass mural that was a rainbow. Wow. Really? I was taken aback at how queer that was… and in a church! I took my seat in a middle pew and waited for the service to start.
We all stood as the reverends (not really sure what they’re called) proceeded into the church. Suddenly, I had a flashback. I remembered standing in my own church watching Father Hanrahan proceed towards the altar. This church was different too because of the music; it was very elevated and the choir sounded wonderful. One of the women swung incense on a chain as she walked past me. The smell brought me instantly back to my days as an altar boy. I used to hate having to light the incense.
Soon I was having flashbacks that weren’t so pleasant. I remember lying in my bed at night scanning a Bible, trying to see if there was a loophole for my being attracted to men, a way for me to not feel so bad about my same-sex feelings. I shook my head and shivered. Snap out of it, Steve, I told myself.
The procession stopped and robotically the congregation sat. I could still smell the incense and that’s when I realized my slight discomfort.
The service ran almost exactly like a Catholic mass. Even most of the things the church members said as a group during the service were the same. As I listened to them recite the “Our Father” together, memories flooded my brain. I could remember sitting next to my mother, the feel of the wood pew against my skin, the way the Oklahoma sunlight poured through the windows, the feeling that I didn’t belong fully to that church because of my difference. I remember the fear of feeling compelled to confess to the priest because I’d masturbated and thought of kissing other boys.
There were two readings, the Reverend read from the Gospel of Christ, and then gave his sermon. The sermon began with an acknowledgment that one of the other Reverend’s partners had died unexpectedly on a mission trip; a sudden loss to the church that many members met with a gasp or whisper of “Oh no.” They’d planned a prayer service for that night.
I looked down at the hymnals in front of me: one of them was a standard Episcopal hymnal and the other one was an African-American Spiritual book. Huh? This surprised me in such a high church. Then I looked around the congregation and noticed that at least half the crowd was African-American. With all of the Prop 8 stuff going on in California, it seems like African-Americans got a bad rap for being homophobic; however, the congregants of this church were nothing but accepting and loving.
Strangely, this felt even more odd to me. I wasn’t feeling fear, but instead surprise. The church was so gay affirming, so loving, that even the Reverend spoke about equality. He spoke about sin as well (an invention of religion), but even still, he didn’t speak about a damning sin. He spoke about sin as resistance someone experiences from not being his or her true-self.
I wondered if that’s why many of the people in the congregation were there. I wondered how it felt for the women to be lead in prayer by a female Reverend. Perhaps they felt the same validation that I did to see other women acknowledged. Perhaps that’s why the congregation contained so many African-American folks; perhaps this church was a place that they were acknowledged fully as well.
This church blew apart so many stigmas that I had about church. It was loving, comfortable, and moved me profoundly. Now, I didn’t have some religious awakening. I still have no desire to go to church, but still it’s nice to know that a place will allow me to come as the person I truly am. This church was so much like my upbringing that it opened some hurtful wounds. Before I knew it, my eyes brimmed with tears, happy tears. As I sat there, I still felt that organized religion was not for me; however, I didn’t realize how I’d judged all religions as unaccepting of me; I hated them. Yet in this church it was healing to feel validation for a part of myself—my gayness—something that had never been validated within Catholicism. I let go of my anger.
They had a reception and gathering after the service and I stood around waiting for James while reading a church flier. I found out that St. John’s was actually the first church in the country to begin officiating same-sex marriages. Soon members struck up conversations with me, yet even this was different from other churches I’d been to.
These members weren’t pressuring at all. In some of my past experiences at church, I often felt like a customer at a used car lot with the members trying to sell me on attending the church. This wasn’t like that at all. The members seemed normal and talkative. They actually seemed interested in getting to know me. I asked one of the members, a lesbian, why she attended.
“This is what I was always told church was supposed to be, but never was,” she said surely. “My partner and I both love it here and we love that we can have our children here and worship as a family. I’ve also made so many good lifelong friends here. St. John’s has made such a difference in my life.”
As I left the church to wait for James by the car, I realized St. John’s had made a huge difference in my life too. It showed me a different side of an organization I once believed to be monstrous. It was also nice that in all the midst of the Prop 8 battle, that some religious institutions still support and love individuals, not a political agenda.
“Well,” James said walking toward the care, “what did you think?”
I smiled. “It was beautiful.”
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Years after moving from Oklahoma, Steve Prince is still acclimating to the gay scene in Los Angeles—he’s a slow learner. By trial and error and a lot of sex, his mission is to make the uncomfortable, comfortable. Also it should be known that he is gayer than butt sex.
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Previously, on A Gay In The Life:
The Birds and The Birds
Lyin’, & Twinks, & Bears—Oh My!
Going Public
Christmas in July
Luck Be A Lady Tonight
I Left My Heart In Oklahoma
As Luck Would Have It
Shock & Awe
Blame It On Britney
The Unending Journey
Makin’ Copies
Bullets and Bracelets… and Lube
To Tell The Truth…
Stars Aren’t Blind
The Dark Knight
Come As You Are
A Date?
A Happy Ending
Better Than Nothing
A Man With A Slow Hand
Taking The Long Way
Everybody Knows
Wake Me Up, Before Ya Go-Go
Definition
The Best
The Upper Hand
Hit Me With Your Best Shot
2000-Date
Dick The Halls
The Queer Dear
A Night At The Museum
A Conversation
I’m Just A Girl Who Can’t Say No
Change The Way You Feel
Kissing A Fool
Leo The Lamb
The Elephant In The Room
Zuckerman’s Famous Pig
A Birthday Surprise
The Sleepover-er
SP Phone Home
Out of the Frying Pan and into the Closet
What If…
Just Beat It
Intimate Portrait
Intimate Portrait (Part Deux)
Intimate Portrait (Part Trois)
State of Mind
The Age of Disbelief
A Man For All Seasons
Summer Lovin’