One of the hazards of writing a regular column for a newspaper is that you occasionally get asked to write about something that is lacking a potential for humor. I write about things that are going on locally and also on a broader scale, and I can usually summon my razor-like wit in order to make fun of almost anything. The current request, however, had me staring into a joke box that was empty except for a few crumbs of irony and a dried up piece of mockery.
When I walked into the End of Time and saw Father Gene already absorbed in coffee and a book, I hoped I had found a source that would either inspire me or give me the good sense to dodge the topic altogether. When he saw me, he smiled and put his book down, a sure signal that he was open to conversation. The Forb was in his usual spot, sequestered behind a fresh copy of the New York Times. Neither Winnie nor Limerick Bill were anywhere to be seen.
I got right to the point with Father Gene.
“I really need your help. I’ve been asked to write a column about something I know very little about and don’t know how to produce my usual hilarity.”
“Please tell me it isn’t about another Catholic controversy,” said Father Gene.
“No,” I said, “the Protestants are drawing the attention to themselves for a while.”
“Good,” he said, “I knew this whole Reformation thing would come back to bite them.”
“More than they expected, it seems.” I glanced around the room to make sure we were able to talk without being overheard. “I know this isn’t really a new topic, but another big Protestant denomination is in turmoil about gay ordination and same-sex marriage. There’s a big vote coming up that could split these folks into pieces and there’s a lot of local attention on the subject, since they’ve got some fairly big churches in this area.”
“I know a little about this,” said Father Gene. “But I’m not sure how I can help. I’m not very good at coming up with comedy.”
“No,” I said, “I just want to get my head around the issue. I can’t poke fun if I don’t understand it better than I do. Can you just give me a theological take on it? If it’s okay, I’d like to take some notes.”
I could tell by the look on his face that Father Gene had thought about this before, even though he was taking a little time to adjust his words so that an idiot like me could understand him. I waited, hoping that Mirna would come soon with some coffee.
“Maxwell, you can find all the arguments easily on the Internet, so you don’t need me to rehearse all that. But let me suggest something else—something that I haven’t really seen in the debates surrounding these issues.
“Much of what I’ve heard swirls in one of two places: First is the ‘them and us’ way of thinking. There is ‘them’—homosexuals—and then there is ‘us’—the heterosexuals. They are two distinct and disconnected categories, where the ‘us’ is normal and right and the ‘them’ is abnormal and wrong.
“Second is the ‘we’re all okay’ place, where both heterosexuality and homosexuality are framed as different yet normal expressions of human sexuality.”
“So,” I said, “those two factions never really come together, and the Protestants end up creating more denominations to solve the problem.”
“Maybe,” said Father Gene. “But I keep wondering if part of the agony comes from these issues forcing everyone to stand before a mirror and look at themselves. Those in the ‘us’ category are confronted with their own often-distorted sexuality, riddled with lust, fantasy, and selfishness. They don’t like having to wrestle with the possibility that there is only an ‘us’ and no ‘them’ when it comes to the brokenness of human sexuality and relationships. It’s a lot easier to create abstract doctrines and policies when we begin with people in a place other than being co-humans made in the image of God.”
“It sound like you lean toward the second option,” I said, signaling to Mirna that I was about to faint from caffeine deprivation.
“Not really,” he said. “Because the second option looks in the same mirror and is just as blind as the other group when it comes to recognizing brokenness. In normalizing everyone, it becomes the unforgiveable sin to identify distortion at almost any level. When people who claim to be committed to the vocation of pastoral ministry refuse to shine a light in those dark places, such inattention to the human condition could result in spiritual malpractice.”
“So what’s the answer?” We paused while Mirna brought my coffee.
“I don’t have the answer, Maxwell. But in my world, I come to the table of Jesus on a regular basis when we celebrate the Eucharist. We respond to Jesus’ invitation to come, and when we do we bring our brokenness and distortion and sin right along with us, where bread and wine become body and blood, and we are once again identified with Jesus, the ‘friend of sinners,’ as his enemies called him. At the table I look into the eyes of the others and I see myself. There is only us, and we’re all a mess. I don’t get much farther than that, but it’s not a bad place to start.”
I jotted down some more notes and then closed my raggedy notebook.
“I don’t think I can do this,” I said. “There just isn’t anything funny about it.”
Father Gene shrugged. “Sorry. It’s all I’ve got for now.”
I knew that the Rotarians were hosting another pancake breakfast tomorrow. Surely I could find something funny about pancakes and leave the Protestants to their own devices. I drained my coffee cup and hoped for more.
I am really starting to like Father Gene, and I’m glad he’s discovered the End of Time. I’ve never really thought about becoming Catholic. But if being Catholic meant being like Father Gene, then I might go for it.
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