Climb that Tree and Find What You Seek

There was a time when I felt lost. I mean, really lost, and not like lost as I am in general today. I didn't enjoy attending my church because I would hear reinforcing messages that the way I was born, the way I was created, was somehow intrinsically maladjusted, bad, sinful. Not just any bad, but worse than the run of the mill sins that other people committed. And I was too young to even act upon these sins. These were just thoughts and feelings that I had inside and society told me to keep under wraps.

So I started to stay away from Church. I think a lot of people do that today.  They hear messages at their church that they don't like or disagree with and they stop attending. But how does one then differentiate that discomfort from making church all about themselves? What is to differentiate self-gratification in a human-constructed church from self-gratification from an ego-constructed sense of identity?

How does one leave a Church without it being about him or herself?

It took me a long time to come to terms with that problem. I'm still dealing with it, but have gotten further than ever before. Meanwhile, during the times I walked away, I still felt a hunger, a wanting, so I would sneak into church for silent prayer. This was at a time when I was out at university and I didn't want my gay friends to see me in church. Church hurt too many of them as well, and the explanations I'd have to give seemed to difficult to express. No I wasn't self-hating; I was hungry. No I wasn't actually still in the closet; I was seeking more from my life. Sure, I had made mistakes. Lots of them. And that's what made me feel like I needed to understand myself and my values ever better.

So yes I would sneak back into church. I was out as a gay man but closeted as a religious person.

The return to church in the past two decades has been life-sustaining for me. I have realized that I can't begin to live the life I'm intended to live without coming to the water when I'm thirsty. We are called into a place where we can be healed, where we can be the source of healing, where we are meant to be, and that calling is both internal and external.

We must respond to the feelings inside of us. We must move our butts to the places where we can put our values and life-meanings into action. Inside and out fully expressed: there is no more need for any closet. Instead, we climb the highest trees to see what's possible, to see the good in the world, and commit ourselves into the direction we were meant to go.

I think that it takes a great deal of reflection to decide that your spiritual journey may or may not need a church. Likewise, it takes some commitment to accept whether or not your journey includes a spiritual guide. Like a tour guide, you sometimes need others to show you the way. It's not that you can't figure it out on your own. It's just that you might want to get to your destination sooner, easier, with less wear and tear, so that you can enjoy yourself more fully. I've always avoided tour guides in my travels but have learned to understand my need for them when I'm immersed deeper in foreign languages and lands than I can handle. The same has applied in my spiritual life. It's taken me a long time to accept my need of church and spiritual guides, but once I set my ego aside, once I accept that my journey doesn't have to be over broken glass and bloody thorns, then I can yield to those who can help me get to the place I'm meant to be sooner, happier, safer. And in doing so, I make it clear to myself that it's in trusting others, in loving others, that I can find my way.

Last night, Stephen and I watched Les Miserables, the movie from a couple years ago. It's my favorite musical and though the movie has issues, the story line still brings me to tears. The contrast between Javert and Jean Valjean is marked, and yet they both sing the same melody when they come to their spiritual crisis. Jean Valjean's crisis is when he must decide who is the man that God intended him to be; Javert's crisis is when he confronts his moral world and finds no place for forgiveness. Both, in the end, are confronting the issue of Love unfolding, Love all-encompassing, Love made flesh. And at the end of the musical, my favorite line: "To love another person is to see the face of God."

We attended a cousin's wedding this weekend. Cousin weddings happen in my life more often than most, as I have 54 first cousins. And yet, sitting in the Roman Catholic church that I once walked away from, that I once felt outcast and excluded, I watched two people in love come together, seeing the face of God in each other. Trusting each other to help guide the other, to help each of them find their way in this life.

I close this blog entry with this coming Sunday's reading. Jesus promises to be there for us, if we reach out, if we love, we allow ourselves to be loved.

Jesus entered Jericho and was passing through. A man was there by the name of Zacchaeus; he was a chief tax collector and was wealthy. He wanted to see who Jesus was, but because he was short he could not see over the crowd. So he ran ahead and climbed a sycamore-fig tree to see him, since Jesus was coming that way.
When Jesus reached the spot, he looked up and said to him, “Zacchaeus, come down immediately. I must stay at your house today.” So he came down at once and welcomed him gladly.
All the people saw this and began to mutter, “He has gone to be the guest of a sinner.”
But Zacchaeus stood up and said to the Lord, “Look, Lord! Here and now I give half of my possessions to the poor, and if I have cheated anybody out of anything, I will pay back four times the amount.”
Jesus said to him, “Today salvation has come to this house, because this man, too, is a son of Abraham. For the Son of Man came to seek and to save the lost.”

                               Luke 19:1-10

Who am I

I watch certain films during Lent. Chocolat. Les Miserables (1995 concert version).

This year, I was particularly moved by the song "Who am I". It comes after Inspector Javert feels he's captured the Jean Valjean, prisoner 24601, who abandoned the terms of his parole. Unwittingly, he tells the mayor, who in fact is Jean Valjean but under an assumed name. Jean Valjean must face whether he continues in his disguise, maintain his office, sustain his successful business, and escape prison, but causing an innocent man to go to jail. Or he could reveal his identity and lose his business and position.

From the lyrics to "Who am I" from the musical Les Miserables If I speak, I am condemned. If I stay silent, I am damned! I am the master of hundreds of workers. They all look to me. How can I abandon them? How would they live If I am not free? If I speak, they are condemned. If I stay silent, I am damned! Who am I? Can I condemn this man to slavery Pretend I do not feel his agony This innocent who bears my face Who goes to judgement in my place Who am I? Can I conceal myself for evermore? Pretend I'm not the man I was before? And must my name until I die Be no more than an alibi? Must I lie? How can I ever face my fellow men? How can I ever face myself again? My soul belongs to God, I know I made that bargain long ago He gave me hope when hope was gone He gave me strength to journey on Who am I? Who am I? I am Jean Valjean! And so Javert, you see it's true That man bears no more guilt than you! Who am I? 2 4 6 0 1

I normally love this song because it brings me to tears. This year, however, I found myself actually sobbing. 

The tears flowed not because I'm a former prisoner, but because the parallels feel so true right now. Was I a literal prisoner? No. Did I feel like a prisoner? Yes. When I was in the closet, I felt oppressed and unable to be myself. I got glimpses of a happier choice as a pre-med student who loved working in caring gerontology environments, helping the elderly, healing people in spirit. But I chose not to enter that profession because of the emotional nature of working with dying patients. I since then have worked for the sake of work.

Today, I lead a pleasant life with a wonderful husband who I adore. I enjoy a certain freedom in my business and get to travel. 

And yet, I daily face the question of "Who am I"? It's the same question I faced when I was a prisoner in the closet. It's the question I asked when I left the medical career. In some ways, my freedom from that world allowed me to flourish and be financially secure. I've also since returned to the Church and have a deep relationship with God.

So what has happened this year? Why am I facing a choice about me as I live versus me as my true self? Was it the Camino de Santiago pilgrimage? Perhaps. I undoubtedly feel as though I'm on a spiritual journey. In the end, I think it's this Lenten season, coming soon after a big pilgrimage.

Lent asks us to go deep into our search for God and our place on earth. We're asked to find God by being true to ourselves as we were created. Anything that distracts us from our true selves distracts us from God. Anything that distracts us from God is temptation. 

We usually say that temptation distracts us from God. But in many ways that allows us to wiggle out of our responsibilities because we don't have to define temptation. 

Anything that distracts us from God is temptation.

So this Lent, I face the temptations that surround us and find that almost everything that isn't about helping, caring, nourishing, welcoming, healing is a temptation. Because on my journey of faith, I find God in Creation and in people. If my relationship with people and creation are not central, then it's a distraction to God. Or, if it's not about relationships and creation, it's a distraction, a temptation, from God.

Fine, how do you make a living without the distraction of work? I'm not sure I know the answer. It's certainly not going to be an easy answer. One can depend on others for their livelihood but at some point, somebody has to help create a sustainable place to live and and find food to eat.

As such, like most, I lead a balanced life, lifting up when possible the aspirational goals but held down in the ashes from which we came because we're expected to live life a certain way.

So who am I? 

"My soul belongs to God, I know. I made that bargain long ago. He gave me hope when hope was gone. He gave me strength to journey on. Who am I? Who am I?"

That's the question that will follow me throughout this Lenten pilgrimage.