Chanting Down Babylon

The time has come to be forthright with all of you, dear readers, and to advocate for something that is close to my heart.  To my shame, I have spent too many years living in fear of being honest and speaking up about my beliefs on same-sex relationships, marriage, and furthermore unequivocally stating that I am an ally of the LGBTQ community.

I know some will ask how I arrived at this place, and to that, my only response is the poem from Rumi above.  I found myself caught by the Divine Lover in a moment of being woken up.

I moved to Indianapolis in 1996 – a very naïve and innocent young man from a small WASPy rural town in East Central Illinois.  My first awakening came from working with a man named Jason, who was flamboyantly and proudly gay.  Being a good evangelical “Christian” boy, I was initially put off by him and was unsure how to talk to him about his “lifestyle” and try to “convert” him.  However, over time, as I got to know him…as a person…and heard his story and became friends with him, my heart started to change.  Jason was not an object to be converted; he was a human being with a story and a family and desirous of communion and friendship…just like me.  That was the beginning of my heart changing, and the start of a shift in my attitude and understanding that would ultimately lead me to believe that, like the woman at the well, the Divine is truly everywhere present and filling all things…even those I had been raised to believe were wrong.

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(Today’s post comes from our dear friend and fellow writer Fr. Joel Weir, from his excellent blog “Saved Together”.  A big thank you to Fr. Joel for his permission to reprint it here.  Go check out his other posts!  Read…reflect…respond…resurrect. – LB)

It was still dark the morning that ICE agents knocked on Erika Fierro’s door. Her two young children were still asleep. Her husband, Jesus, had already left for work at his construction job. Jesus was not coming back today. This was the first information the shadowy figures at the door gave to a groggy mother of young children. They mentioned they had detained him and needed her to step outside before they revealed who they were.

No charges. No rights.

Erika said they tricked her to come outside, saying they had her husband and his truck, which had the expensive tools owned by the company he worked for inside. If she came out she could have them.

When she stepped outside, they laughed.

We got another one!

Who are you?

We’re ICE, we detained your husband and were taking you.

Where is your warrant?

We don’t need a warrant. We’re ICE.

This is my property, my children are inside. I have lived in Indianapolis for thirty years.

You were not born here. You are not from here. You need to get back to your country, so take your kids back and go.

They also threatened Erika with the cruelest threat to a mother.

We can do this the easy way or the hard way. The hard way is we follow you inside and do this in front of your kids. Then we call CPS and you won’t be able to get your kids back.

In the United States of America. In 2018.

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Christmas.  That sacred holiday, where, if but for a moment, time seems to stop and the world has a moment of peace, quiet, and joy.  The time of year when many people celebrate, give gifts to one another, and in general seem happier and more filled with gratitude and generosity.  For much of the country, Nature has begun her long Winter’s nap, and even the city seems quiet at times, especially when the snow falls and covers over the blemishes of this urban inner-city environment.  This is the season of light and a time to revel in family, friends, and the simplicity of things.  This, I know, is the experience of many.  It was once mine as well.  Then life happened…

As I’ve said here before, life has a way of teaching you hard lessons you never wanted to learn.  It does not allow you to deal with things as you wish them to be, but rather, as they are and in the moment that they happen.  Growing up, the holidays (as Thanksgiving and Christmas are often referred to here) were joyous occasions, where I would look forward to seeing friends and family and, naturally, the joy of opening gifts that had been picked, purchased, and wrapped just for me.  I grew up in a “normal”, small town, white Christian home and family, with parents who were still married and loved each other and my brother and I, and enough food, faith, friends and family to go around.  While we certainly were never wealthy, and even at times very poor, we never wanted for anything.  Food was always on the table, gifts were always under the tree, and all was magic and joy at Christmas.  I grew up, got married, and began my own family, with dreams and expectations galore, and with my wife’s upbringing being somewhat similar to mine, we made our plans.  Even as a newly married adult, I struggled to understand those who did not feel this way about Christmas, and was absolutely prejudiced against those who didn’t seem to “get it” and grasp what this great Feast was all about, my own friends included.  Then life happened…

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“If baking a cake for a gay wedding means you support gay marriage, then helping a pedophile get elected in Alabama means you support pedophilia.” – Scott Nevins

The logic is sound.  The statement pointed and poignant.  This is the world we live in and it is not pretty or easy to swallow.  With no facetiousness intended, the idiom that “you can’t have your cake and eat it too” seems àpropos here.  This is not a new debate and I know that by writing this I will potentially open the door to all kinds of political diatribe and the temptation to take “sides” in this imagined “culture” war so many believe us to be fighting.  Please forgive me – I do not intend anything here to be an endorsement of, or slander towards, any political party or candidate – that is not the issue at hand.  The problem presented is the absolute cognitive dissonance that so many Christians have fallen into, the moral irrelevancy, and the presentation of a “Christianity” that is absolutely devoid of the Christ, inconsistent, and utterly meaningless.  It has very much become a club for the chosen, a haven for the holy, and a menagerie for members only.

Yes, I have been and will continue to be “harsh” on the “church”, and I know what I write here often sounds condemning and critical and perhaps even seems as if I’m saying I no longer believe in or want to be a part of the very institution I call my home.  That is not my intent.  The church is full of hypocrites; how could it be otherwise?  It includes me.  I am a part of the hypocrisy.  I know this and accept fully that I have helped to create the problem.  I am not soft on sin; I am generous on grace.  However I am at a point, as one of my favorite singer/songwriters David Bazaan says in his song, “Level With Yourself”, finding myself reflecting on what it all means. Like someone who’s woken from a long nap, and knows that they are no longer asleep and dreaming, I want to deal with the real…with the now.  What I am asking, is for all of us who identify as “Christians” or “the Church”, etc., to do a FULL STOP, and consider our calling, our consistency, and what things like cake and political candidates have to do with any of it?!?!  When the world around us associates the word Christian with anti-gay, anti-abortion, and bigotry and all things that we are seemingly AGAINST more than loving, pro ALL life, welcoming to everyone, and what we are FOR, we must stop and consider what we are doing. As Rich Mullins once said, “All I ask of anybody is that you make a little effort to be consistent.”  What are we doing?  Perhaps we ought to level with ourselves…we have failed in so many ways to be the real thing and have become a shadow of the real.

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