Inclination (11 page)

“You were a
little bit younger than me when it happened to you.”

“I guess, a
little bit. Like I was fourteen, so maybe I wasn’t quite as up on the ways of
the world as you are at
sixteen
.” When
he laughs, I know he’s cracked a
real
joke this time. “But since last year when I left Our Way and St. Mark’s Church, Ma and me, and Dad too, we’ve learned a lot
about Jesus. And seriously, man, He doesn’t hate you at all. It’s not His way.”
David blinks a couple times, and I think he’s holding back the emotions that
come with memories of his own ordeal two years ago. “Come on, let’s check out the proof again.
And I’m not saying I’m like some big authority on the subject, or that I
understand it all—my study of all this is a work in progress—but I’ll go over
what I’ve figured out. Gladly.”

We both direct
our attention back to the outline, first looking at what David has labeled as
number one, “The big ones/AKA The Clobber Passages.”

“These biblical
teachings seem to condemn homosexual relations, yeah?” He runs his index finger
over the top of the outline and, strangely, I find myself fighting the urge to
touch his hand.

“The Sodom story
is a
big one
,” I agree, silently
reading the first example from the outline. “It clobbers
me
over the head, for sure. Everybody thinks that God killed off
all the people there for being homosexual.”

“But, see, Sodom
and Gomorrah weren’t destroyed because the people there were having loving
same-sex relationships. God destroyed them because the men who lived there
tried to humiliate and gang rape some guests, who also happened to be male.
They were acting super lustful and aggressive—
that
is what they did wrong. And all of the people of Sodom were
also condemned for being arrogant and inhospitable, and for not being helpful
to the needy.”

“Okay, now tell
me about Leviticus again.” I badly want to remember every single solitary thing he’s
saying.

“That’s where God
condemned gay sex as an abomination, which sure
sounds
harsh.”

“But you said
before that back then
abomination
just meant ‘don’t do it’.”

“Yeah, and lots
of other things that are fine by Christians today were also called
abominations, like eating, or even touching, certain foods and cutting your
hair in certain ways. And back then, those rules had a purpose—to help the
Israelites understand that the world had rules that were reliable, and to set them
apart from others.” I like the look in David’s eyes when he explains things to
me. It’s softer and less in-your-face than usual, as if he’s confident that he
can see the big picture from where he sits. “But, the way I see it, is the big
deal on this one is that Jesus died to free us from all those rules. And if we
don’t have to live by all of those laws anymore, we can live to fulfill the
important one—the law of love.”

I glance down at
the outline. “And then there’s Romans 1. That passage is from the New Testament
and actually condemns shameful lusts.”

“But the
condemnation is for having too much
lust
,
not for the homosexual acts, themselves. Back then, same-sex acts weren’t regarded
as part of loving relationships but more as too much desire for sex, because
most of the people who were having sex with others of the same gender were
already married. And, dude, don’t forget that there are also all kinds of
translation issues that cloud up the water on this topic.”

“Is all this
information in the book you gave me?”

“It’s also in
these.” David pulls a pile of stapled packets down onto his lap and flips
through them. Handing me a few packets, he continues talking without detailing
what they’re about.
“
And take the
role of women in the church—it’s changed a lot, because culture has changed in
terms of how women are looked at by society. And I, personally, don’t think
it’s fair to pick and choose on the rules—like, women speaking in church is
okay now, but homosexual relationships remain wrong. That’s bull shit.”

“So you’re saying
it’s hypocritical?” This is a lot to take in at once. But I know that if I can make
myself believe what David is telling me, it will in many ways set me free.

“I
kinda
think it is, don’t you?” He doesn’t wait for my
response. “And this is only one part of the big picture, Tony. But I wanted to
tell you about
these
scriptural
passages first because they’re the ones you’re
gonna
need to get past if you want to accept that same-sex relationships can be
blessed.” He seems to suddenly come back from that faraway place—his eyes
narrow a little bit and the smirk returns. “And you
gotta
know that there’s much more info that convinced Ma and Dad and me that same-sex
intimacy inside of marriage is even
good.”

Tolerated is one
thing,
good
is another. “Um…
good
? I don’t know—that’s kind of tough
to swallow.”

“Look, go home
and finish the book and check out those papers I gave you, and let me know when
you can come over here again. Next time I’ll show you my outline on celibacy.”

That makes me
smile. “You sure know how to lure a guy in—celibacy talk.” I giggle, which
surprises me. “And that was an LOL, in case you didn’t get it.”

“Dude, celibacy’s
a gift, didn’t
ya
know? Next time you come over it’s
gonna
be all about life
without
sex.” He winks and then smiles back at me.

Strangely, this
is when I feel it—a zing of attraction. But this time, it doesn’t come from the
forbidden sight of muscular calves or broad shoulders. This little zing comes
from my attraction to David’s whole person—his pointy face, his lanky body, his
intelligence, even his sarcasm, and a lot for his compassion. But beyond those
things, I decide that the zing comes from a true connection between us, as
David and I share our deep love of God.

David walks me to
the door, and then halfway down the walkway to my car.

“Thank your mom
for the ice cream.”

“Sure, Tony.” I
get another easy at-home-David smile, and then he heads back into the house.

I won’t say that
I left with a spring in my step, but I will say I left David’s house with more
hope than I had when I got there.

On my way home
from David’s house, I get a call from
Laz
. It seems
that Our Way is holding a special
meeting tonight because they want to talk with me as a group. I figure they’ve
finally recognized the less than Christ like nature of their behavior towards
me, and they want to explain, or maybe even apologize. I wonder if Mrs. Martine
is aware of this gesture, which makes me a little hesitant to accept the
invitation, but, nonetheless, I tell
Laz
I will pick him
up at six.

When we arrive,
the flameless candles are already lit, so to speak, and the gang’s all here,
sitting in a circle and staring at me. There are two vacant seats—I assume
they’re intended for
Laz
and me. As usual, Mrs.
Martine is perched in her supervisory corner chair, and she lowers her knitting
to observe as I enter. A tingle of anxiety rises up my spine, and it’s mixed
with the sting of betrayal, as I’m not getting a “we are heartily sorry for
having offended you, Anthony” vibe. Far from it, in fact. And judging by the
way
Laz’s
eyes are glued to the floor and his lips
are uncharacteristically sealed shut, I know for a fact my so-called best pal
has sold me out.

Of all the Our
Way youth group members, President Elizabeth, naturally, is the one who stands
up to greet me. “Welcome back, Anthony. I know I speak for all of us when I say
that we’ve missed you here.” My stomach churns despite her friendly greeting. There
are times my gut has better instincts when it comes to detecting impending doom
than my brain does, so I pay attention.

Everybody nods in
agreement with the president of the youth group—the obvious exceptions are
Rinaldo
and Mrs. Martine.

“Uh….” Is my
brilliant reply.

“We are your
family in God, Anthony, and we understand the challenge you’re faced with.” She
speaks slowly, like I’m a little kid. “Plus, we’ve all noticed that you seem to
have made your decision regarding how you’re going to respond to your
homosexual inclination, in that you have left the church and the youth group,
and have started associating with known gays and lesbians.”

I think of David
and heat rushes to my face. Within a split second, my head gets light and I
feel dizzy. I’d certainly have dropped to the floor on my knees, which the
members of Our Way would probably find fitting, if I hadn’t already been
sitting down.

I think this is
called “flying over the radar”. Not at all my style.

After looking at
me more directly than I’m comfortable with, for far longer than I’m
comfortable, Elizabeth continues. “I would like to start by referring to page
thirteen of the
Ministry to Persons with
a Homosexual Inclination: Guidelines for Pastoral Care
, which were
determined at the United States Conferences of Catholic Bishops in 2006.”

As Elizabeth
fumbles with her notecards, I remember the long computer print-out, which, at
this very moment, is buried, unread, in the bottom drawer of my dresser. I now
realize my fatal error in ignoring it. Had I read it, maybe I’d be better
prepared for what I’m about to hear.

"It says,
and I paraphrase, that a person with a homosexual inclination ought to receive
all the help we can give him to live out the call to holiness. Answering this
call will involve,” her fingers form air quotes, “
‘much struggle and self-mastery, for following Jesus always means
following the way of the Cross....’ Anthony, we are all here to help you in
your struggle for self-mastery.
”

I’d bet my life
on the fact that Elizabeth, along with everybody else, is staring at me, but I
can’t see it. I’ve placed my elbows on my knees and then my head in my hands,
and I’m facing the floor, waiting for the rest.

Elizabeth
continues, “And in the Pastoral Letter on Homosexuality, Bishop Thomas Daily quotes
The Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, by writing,

‘although the
particular inclination of the homosexual person is not a sin, it is a more or
less strong tendency ordered toward an intrinsic moral evil; and this the
inclination itself must be seen as an objective disorder.’” Having said her
piece, she sighs audibly, adding, “We are holding tonight’s intervention to
enlighten you, and to let you know that we are here to support you as you
struggle with your disorder.”

At this point I
look up and around me at all of the stern and worried eyes that are focused on
my face, as I await the inevitable. I’ve been to an intervention before. I know
what’s coming.

Emma, who’s
sitting next to Elizabeth, snaps her gum once, stands up, and reads from a
notecard in her hand. “The Apostle Paul says, in 1 Corinthians 6: 18-19,
‘So run away from a sexual sin. Every other
sin that a man does is outside his body. But the one who sins sexually sins
against his own body.’
You ought to know that your body is a temple for the
Holy Spirit.” Her voice is an odd combination of matter-of-fact and
know-it-all. Her part now played, Emma sits down, wearing an expression that’s
far from humble.

I’m frozen—as in,
absolutely numb.

Next, Eric stands
and reads from his notecard a verse from the Old Testament. “
Leviticus 18:22


‘Do not practice
homosexuality, having sex with another man as with a woman. It is a hated sin.’
” His voice is inexpressive, as if he’s reading
aloud from a menu. Despite my stupor, I can’t help but notice that each member
of Our Way holds a matching hot pink notecard. I gather that this intervention
is a well-planned event.

Rinaldo
stands up to his full,
impressive height and puffs out his chest—every inch of his huge frame on
flagrant display—and I involuntarily clench my fists with wariness. His crumpled
pink notecard falls from his hand, and then he stares at me with squinted eyes,
his chin raised defiantly, like I sucker punched his Nana, or something equally
horrific. “Sodom and Gomorrah got destroyed because of homosexuality, and
God’ll
destroy you too!” He drops back into his chair with
a loud thud, but within a couple of seconds he shakes his head, again stands,
whips his chair aside, and bolts up the stairs. I wonder if he pulls the door
at the top of the stairs tightly closed.

It takes us a
moment to absorb the extent of
Rinaldo’s
fury—in
fact, everybody’s completely bowled over by it. But in addition to being
stunned, I’m also admittedly intimidated.
Rinaldo
Vera is what I think of as
hulking
,
which is not a desirable characteristic in one’s enemy. But before I’ve had a
chance to categorize the more daunting points of The Incredible Hulk’s
anger—I’ve observed it many times on YouTube reruns of the retro TV series—it’s
Kerry’s turn to intervene in my life. She speaks in a voice that’s far more forthright
than I’m accustomed to.

“In Romans 1,
18-27, the Apostle Paul discusses immoral sexual sin, as he talks about how
people have turned from God, only wanting to do evil. And, like, when God let
them go freely in their sin, they got sort of obsessed with sexual stuff.”
Kerry’s forehead is perspiring even worse than mine. She seems titillated, more
than
than
repulsed. “Women stopped having natural sex
and started having sex with other women. In the same way, men stopped having
natural sex and began wanting each other. Men did shameful things with other
men.”

To say I’m
embarrassed at hearing that particular biblical reference from the lips of a
girl I’d gone apple picking with in kindergarten would be an understatement. I
still, however, have the presence of mind to wonder if the very innocent Kerry
has managed to figure out exactly what those “shameful things” two men do in
bed actually
are.

Even the
homeschooled kid who usually sits alone in the corner has deemed it necessary
to join the circle for this important event. I think it’s maybe the third time
I’ve ever actually heard him speak. He reads a passage about how homosexuals
will not inherit the Kingdom of God from the page of his small, hand-worn Bible
that he’s marked with his pink notecard. And another first for the homeschooled
kid—he establishes direct eye contact with me. I’ve got to give kudos to
whatever-his-name-is for making progress in the social arena.

Beyond this
point, the notecards are no longer referred to, but are, instead, simply held
like props.

“Look at the male
and female bodies, Anthony. It’s pretty obvious what God intended when he made
us!”
Like,
duh!
is implied in the speaker’s tone.

“It’s Adam and
Eve, Del
Vecchio
, not Adam and Steve.”

“Sex is for
making babies. When two guys can do that, then I’ll be all for gay sex and gay
marriage.”

My head feels
even lighter than before and I’m desperate to inhale some fresh outdoor air,
but I continue to sit there like I’m super-glued to my chair.

Finally, when the
suggestions have come full circle and we’re back to Elizabeth, she stands up
and says in an even tone, “Anthony, you have now heard what we have to say. You
have heard words from the Bible and words from our hearts, and you can see that
we are
so very
here for you. I have
one question for you: Is acting on your homosexual inclination worth the risk?
You have
everything
to lose.” She
sits down and crosses her legs primly, her lips pursed, and she bows her head.

Saint Elizabeth.

The rest of the
Our Way youth group seems to gaze at me with one unified set of disconcerted
eyes, and I experience a distinct “the tribe has spoken” moment, reminiscent of
one of my all-time favorite classic television shows. The flameless candles
flicker in the way I had long thought was an indication that God was here with
us, listening and supporting our meeting. But I’d never imagined that a circle
of my closest friends, in His presence, could make me feel so alone.

And then
Laz
, who has not spoken to this point, takes to his feet
and offers the final appeal. His dark
eyes are actually red-rimmed and wet. “Anthony, you’re like a bro to me—always
have been, dude. So please don’t be gay anymore. My parents won’t let me hang
out with you if you’re fixed on being a fag.”

What’s most
devastating about Lazarus’s words isn’t the slur he uses—instead, it’s that I
can tell his pain and his plea are both so genuine.

My gayness is
hurting him…and it’s upsetting them.

Is it condemning
me?

That’s when the
room seems to start shaking, or maybe it’s my entire world that’s trembling. I
push myself unsteadily to my feet and then stumble toward the stairs—all I can
think of to do is to hide.

“Mind your
language, please, Mr. Sinclair.” I hear Mrs. Martine, our worship leader,
instruct
Laz
blandly. “We don’t say
fag
here at youth group.”

But you think it
loud and clear.

Laz
for the most part ignores her,
and stands up. Then my longtime best friend rushes to my side and grabs my
upper arm tightly enough to hurt. “Dude,
gimme
your
keys and let me drive you home. You aren’t cool to get behind the wheel right
now and I can—”

“Sit down,
Lazarus.” Our worship leader rises to her feet, spreads her legs apart about a
foot, and cocks her head to the side.
Mrs.
Martine has good-sized hands
, I think, as they move purposefully to her
hips. The overall effect of her posturing is rather threatening. And when
Laz’s
eyes meet mine, I can tell he wants to say something
else, but instead, his shoulders slump in obedient defeat, and he returns to
his chair. Mrs. Martine leans forward and points at me with the single knitting
needle she still holds. “Anthony, this group of young people cares about you.
They planned every detail of what they were going to say on their own, without
a word of input from me. They are deeply hurt by your choices. I suggest that
you go home and think about the direction in which your life is heading. And
then, if I were you, I’d very hastily get myself to the confessional.”

I’m glad I’m
numb, because if I wasn’t I’d be wallowing in panic attack city. I manage to
spit out two monotone words. “Thank
you.”

“You may leave
now, Anthony.”

I stumble up the
stairs, pull the door closed, and make a break for the safety of my car.

Which brings me
back to now… beaten and disgraced in the church parking lot.

I’m not ready to
go anywhere and…

I need to think
and…

I have to sort
this out.

It’s dark and
cold in my car…and in my life.

Oh God, what did
I do to deserve this? How did I end up
this way?