Today, I have to spread a message I read. It is very simple. And powerful. And true.
I couldn't have said it better and it's exactly what I think, so I'd LOVE to share it with you and I LOVE you, the reader of this post and thank you in advance for sharing it and for your comments.:
"Today I want to write about something that has bothered me for the
better part of a decade. I’ve carved out no fewer than a dozen drafts of
this post, all strangely unalike, all ultimately failing to accomplish
the job I’ve set out to do. Truth is, I’ve been trying to write it off
and on for more than a year now, and the right words have been seemingly
impossible to come by.
In the end, and in order to post it, I guess I had to care more about
the message than I do about potential backlash. I’m not
being facetious when I say that I hope I can get this message across
without offending… well…
everybody.
What I really hope is that this post will spark and encourage
poignant and worthwhile discussion that will lead to some poignant and
worthwhile changes in the lives of at least a few people who are
hurting.
That being said, I believe some strong words need to be said today.
“God hates fags.” We’ve all seen the signs being waved high in the
air by members of the Westboro Baptist church. On TV. In real life. It’s
hard not to take notice.
Over the years, I’ve watched seemingly never-ending disgustingness
and hatred spill across the media airwaves from those who belong to the
organization. For those who don’t know much about that “church,” they
have made a seedy name for themselves by doing drastic things like
picketing beneath atrocious signs and hosting flagrant anti-gay protests
at military funerals.
Almost every person of nearly every religion has no problem loathing
and condemning the Westboro Baptist Church and its members, and perhaps
with reason. They take freedom of speech far beyond what our founding
fathers intended when they fought to give us that right, and they
laugh at the rest of the world while they do.
But today I don’t want to talk about those idiots. I want to talk about you. And me.
And my friend who I’ll call Jacob.
Jacob is 27 years old, and guess what… he’s gay.
Not a lot of people know. He lives in a community where being gay is still very “frowned upon.”
I was talking to him on the phone a few weeks ago, telling him about
my failed attempts to write this post. He was trying to hold his
emotions in, but he eventually became tearful as we deliberated the very
problem that this post attempts to discuss.
Before I go on, I feel I must say something one time. Today’s post is
not about homosexuality. It’s not about Christians. It’s not about
religion. It’s not about politics. It’s about something else altogether.
Something greater. Something simpler.
It’s about love.
It’s about kindness.
It’s about friendship
And love, kindness, and friendship are three things that Jacob hasn’t felt in a
long time.
I’m thankful he gave me permission to share our conversation with you. It went something like this.
“Jacob, I honestly don’t know how to write it,” I said. “I know what I
want to get across, but I can never find the right words.”
“Dan, you need to write it. Don’t give up. I’m telling you, it needs to be said.”
I paused. “You don’t understand. It’s too heated a subject. It’s
something people are very emotional and touchy about. I’d be lynched.”
My friend hesitated. “Dan, you are the only friend I have that knows I’m gay. The only freaking one,” he said.
“What do you mean? I know you’ve told other friends.”
That’s when his voice cracked. He began crying.
“Every single person I’ve told has ditched me. They just disappear.
They stop calling. They remove me on Facebook. They’re just gone,” he
said. “They can’t handle knowing and being friends with a gay person.”
I didn’t know what to say. So I didn’t say anything.
“You don’t know what it’s like, man. You don’t know what it’s like to
live here and be gay. You don’t know what it’s like to have freaking
nobody. You don’t know what it’s like to have your own parents hate you
and try and cover up your existence. I didn’t choose this. I didn’t want
this. And I’m so tired of people hating me for it. I can’t take it
anymore. I just can’t.”
How do you respond to that?
I wanted to tell him it was all in his head. I knew it wasn’t. I
wanted to tell him it would get better and easier. The words would have
been hollow and without conviction, and I knew it.
You see, I live in this community too. And I’ve heard the hate. I’ve
heard the disgust. I’ve heard the disdain. I’ve heard the gossip. I’ve
heard the distrust. I’ve heard the anger. I’ve heard it all, and I’ve
heard it tucked and disguised neatly beneath a wrapper of
self-righteousness and a blanket of “caring” or “religious” words. I’ve
heard it more times than I care to number.
About gay people.
About people who dress differently.
About people who act differently.
About fat people.
About people with drug addictions.
About people who smoke.
About people with addictions to alcohol.
About people with eating disorders.
About people who fall away from their faiths.
About people who aren’t members of the dominant local religion.
About people who have non-traditional piercings.
About people who just
look at you or me the wrong way.
I’ve heard it, and I’ve heard it over, and over, and over again.
Hell, in the past (and to some degree in the present) I participated
in it. I propagated it. I smugly took part in it. I’ll admit that.
And I did so under the blanketing term “Christian.” I did so
believing that my actions were somehow justified because of my beliefs
at the time. I did so, actually believing that such appointments were
done out of…
love.
This isn’t just a Utah phenomenon. I’ve lived outside of this place.
I’ve worked outside of this place. It was just as bad in Denver. It was
just as bad in California. I see it on blogs. I hear it on television
shows and radio programs. I hear it around my own family’s dinner table
from time to time. Usually said so passively, so sneakily, and so
“righteously.”
From Christians.
From Buddhists.
From Hindus.
From Muslims.
From Jews.
“God
hates fags.” “God
hates addicts.” “God
hates people who shop at Salvation Army.” “God hates people that aren’t just like me.”
People may not be holding up picket signs and marching around in
front of television cameras but… come on. Why is it that so many
incredible people who have certain struggles, problems, or their own
beliefs of what is right and wrong
feel so hated? Why do they
feel so judged? Why do they feel so… loathed? What undeniable truth must we all eventually admit to ourselves when such is the case?
Now, I’m not religious. I’m also not gay. But I’ll tell you right now
that I’ve sought out religion. I’ve looked for what I believe truth to
be. For years I studied, trying to find “it”. Every major religion had
good selling points. Every major religion, if I rewound far enough, had
some pretty incredible base teachings from some pretty incredible
individuals.
Check this out, and feel free to correct me if I get this wrong…
According to Christians, Jesus taught a couple of interesting things.
First, “love one another.” Second, “He that is without sin among you,
let him first cast a stone at her.” (“Her” being a woman who cheated on
her man.)
According to Buddhists, Buddha taught a couple of thought-provoking
things. First, “Hatred does not cease by hatred, but only by love; this
is the eternal rule.” Second, “Holding on to anger is like grasping a
hot coal with the intent of throwing it at someone else; you are the one
who gets burned.”
According to Hindus, a couple of fascinating teachings come to mind.
First, “Do not get angry or harm any living creature, but be
compassionate and gentle; show good will to all.” (Krishna) Second,
“Love means giving selflessly, excluding none and including all.” (Rama)
According to Muslims, Muhammad taught a couple interesting things as
well. First, “A true Muslim is the one who does not defame or abuse
others; but the truly righteous becomes a refuge for humankind, their
lives and their properties.” Second, “Do you love your creator? Love
your fellow-beings first.”
According to Judaism, their scriptures teach a couple remarkable
things. First, “Love your neighbor like yourself.” Second, “Examine the
contents, not the bottle.”
The greatest spiritual leaders in history have all preached love for
others as the basis for all happiness, and never did they accompany such
mandates with a list of unlovable actions or deeds. They never said,
love everybody
except for the gays. Love everybody except for
the homeless. Love everybody except for the drug users. Love everybody
except for the gang members, or those covered in ink, or the spouse
abusers. They didn’t tell us it was okay to love everybody with the
exception of the “trailer trash,” those living in poverty, or the
illegal immigrants. They didn’t tell us it was okay to love everybody
except for our ex-lovers, our lovers’ ex lovers, or our ex-lovers’
lovers. The mandate was pretty damn clear, wasn’t it?
Love others.
Period.
So if this is the founding directive of all the major religions… why
is it that sometimes the most “Christlike” people are they who have no
religion at all?
Let me repeat that.
Why is it that sometimes the most Christlike people are they who have no religion at all?
I have known a lot of people in my life, and I can tell you this… Some of the ones who understood love
better
than anyone else were those who the rest of the world had long before
measured as lost or gone. Some of the people who were able to look at
the dirtiest, the poorest, the gays, the straights, the drug users,
those in recovery, the basest of sinners, and those who were just…
plain… different…
They were able to look at them all and only see strength. Beauty. Potential. Hope.
And if we boil it down, isn’t that what
love actually is?
Don’t get me wrong. I know a lot of incredible Christians, too. I
know some incredible Buddhists and Muslims and Hindus and Jews. I know a
lot of amazing people, devout in their various religions, who truly
love the people around them.
I also know some atheist, agnostic, or religionless people who are
absolutely hateful of believers. They loathe their religious
counterparts. They love only those who believe (or don’t believe) the
same things they do.
In truth, having a religion doesn’t make a person love or not love
others. It doesn’t make a person accept or not accept others. It doesn’t
make a person befriend or not befriend others.
Being without a religion doesn’t make somebody do or be any of that either.
No, what makes somebody love, accept, and befriend their fellow man is letting go of a need to be
better than others.
Nothing else.
I know there are many here who believe that living a homosexual life is a sin.
Okay.
But, what does
that have to do with love?
I repeat… what does that have to do with
love?
Come on. Don’t we understand? Don’t we get it? To put our arm around
someone who is gay, someone who has an addiction, somebody who lives a
different lifestyle, someone who is not what
we think they
should be… doing that has nothing to do with enabling them or accepting
what they do as okay by us. It has nothing to do with encouraging them
in their practice of what you or I might feel or believe is wrong vs
right.
It has
everything to do with being a good human being. A good person. A good friend.
That’s all.
To put our arm around somebody who is different. Why is that
so hard?
I’m not here to say homosexuality is a sin or isn’t a sin. To be
honest, I don’t give a rip. I don’t care. I’m not here to debate whether
or not it’s natural or genetic. Again, I… don’t… care. Those debates
hold no encumbrance for me.
What I care about is the need so many of us have to shun and loathe
others. The need so many of us have to feel better or superior to
others. The need some of us have to declare ourselves right and
“perfect” all the freaking time and any chance we have.
And for some of us, these are very real
needs.
But I will tell you this. All it really is… All
any of it really is… is bullying.
Sneaky, hurtful, duplicitous, bullying.
Well, guess what.
There are things we
all do or believe that other people
consider “sinful.” There are things we all do or believe that other
people consider “wrong.” There are things we all do or believe that
other people would be disgusted or angered by.
“Yes, but I have the truth!” most people will adamantly declare.
Okay.
Whether you do or not…
I promise you it doesn’t matter what you believe, how strongly you
live your beliefs, or how true your beliefs are. Somebody else,
somewhere, thinks
you are in the wrong. Somebody else,
somewhere, thinks your beliefs are senseless or illogical. Somebody
else, somewhere, thinks you have it
all wrong. In fact, there are a lot of people in this world who do.
We each understand that. We already know that. It’s the world we live in and we’re not naïve. We’re not stupid. We get it.
Yet, we
expect and want love anyway. We expect and want understanding. We expect and want tolerance. We expect and want humanity. We expect and want
respect for
our beliefs, even from those who don’t believe the same things we do.
Even from those who think we’re wrong, unwise, or incorrect.
We expect all of that from the people who disagree with us and who
disagree with our lifestyles and beliefs because, let’s be honest,
nothing
we do is actually bad enough to be worthy of disgust, anger, hatred, or cold-shouldering. Right? None of the ways in which
we live our lives would warrant such behavior. Right? None of
our beliefs are worthy of ugly disdain from others.
Right?
No, we’re all… perfect. Freaking, amazingly, impossibly… perfect.
But the gays… well, shoot.
[sigh]
You know what I think?
Let this sink in for a minute…
I think it doesn’t matter if you or I or anybody else thinks homosexuality is a sin. It doesn’t matter if you or I think
anything is a sin. It doesn’t matter if homosexuality is a
sin or not. In fact, it doesn’t matter if
anything anybody else does is a sin or not.
Because sin is a very personal thing! It always has been and it always will be!
And it has
nothing to do with love.
Absolutely
nothing.
Disparity and difference have nothing to do with love.
We shouldn’t choose who we will love and who we won’t.
“I’m Christian, unless you’re gay.”
That’s the message we’re sending, you know.
“I’m Christian, unless I’m hotter than you.”
“I’m Christian, unless I’m uglier than you.”
“I’m Christian, unless I found out you cheated on your income taxes.”
“I’m Christian, unless you cut me off in traffic.”
“I’m Christian, unless you fall in love with the person I once fell in love with.”
“I’m Christian, unless you’re that guy who smells like crap on the subway.”
“I’m Christian, unless you’re of a different religion.”
“Oh, but you’re
not gay? You’re clean, and well dressed, and
you have a job? You look the way I think you should look? You act the
way I think you should act? You believe the things I think you should
believe? Then I’m
definitely a Christian. To you, today, I’m a Christian. You’ve earned it.”
I bet you’ve heard that message coming from others. Maybe you’ve given that message to others.
Either way, I hope we all can agree that we mustn’t live that message. We just shouldn’t.
But many of us do.
And we do it all the time.
For some of us, it might as well be tattooed across our necks and foreheads.
Maybe not in those words, but the message is clear to those who hear
and are listening. It’s clear to those who are watching and seeing.
The message has been
very clear to my friend Jacob.
“Every single person I’ve told has ditched me. They just disappear.
They stop calling. They remove me on Facebook. They’re just gone. They
can’t handle knowing and being friends with a gay person.”
“You don’t know what it’s like, man. You don’t know what it’s like to
live here and be gay. You don’t know what it’s like to have freaking
nobody. You don’t know what it’s like to have your own parents hate you
and try and cover up your existence. I didn’t choose this. I didn’t want
this. And I’m so tired of people hating me for it. I can’t take it
anymore. I just can’t.”
Jacob is a dear friend. He’s my brother. He’s a damn good human being. He’s absolutely
incredible.
He’s also gay.
But why does that make any difference at all?
It doesn’t. Not to me.
And I wish with everything inside of me that it didn’t make any
difference to others. I wish we didn’t all have to find ways that we’re
better than others or more holy and saintly than others in order to
feel
better about our own messy selves. I wish people
wouldn’t cluster entire groups of people together and declare the whole
lot unworthy of any love and respect.
But that is the point of such thinking and action, isn’t it? I mean,
it’s simpler that way. It makes it easier for us to justify our
thoughts, words, and prejudices that way.
All these
people become clumped together. And in the process, they all somehow become less than human.
They become unworthy of
our love.
And what a great thing it is when that happens, right? I mean, it
helps us to free ourselves from the very directives that have been
passed down for millennia from the greatest teachers and philosophers in
history. It makes our rationalization for hatred, bigotry, and
abhorrence so easily justifiable; so maskable.
So
right.
It gives us the golden chance to look at ourselves and not be disgusted by what the glass reflects back at us.
Then, sadly and ultimately, it pushes us to that point where we no
longer have any sort of arm to put around others at all. We no longer
have a hand to offer our fellow human beings. We no longer have a need
to.
And why would we?
Why the hell
should we?
Unless, of course, we actually want to live what we all so often claim that we “believe.”
My dear friends…
This has to stop. We have to put our ugly picket signs down. We have
to be the examples that help make it happen in our own lives and in the
lives of the people that surround us.
We have to be that voice. We each
must be that voice.
We must tell others that we will not accept or listen to such hurtful and hateful sentiments.
We must show love where love right now doesn’t exist.
Will you please join me?
My request today is simple. Today. Tomorrow. Next week. Find
somebody, anybody, that’s different than you. Somebody that has made you
feel ill-will or even [gulp...] hateful. Somebody whose life decisions
have made you uncomfortable. Somebody who practices a different religion
than you do. Somebody who has been lost to addiction. Somebody with a
criminal past. Somebody who dresses “below” you. Somebody with
disabilities. Somebody who lives an alternative lifestyle. Somebody
without a home.
Somebody that you, until now, would always avoid, always look down on, and always be disgusted by.
Reach your arm out and put it around them.
And then, tell them they’re all right. Tell them they have a friend. Tell them you
love them.
If you or I wanna make a change in this world, that’s where we’re gonna be able to do it. That’s where we’ll start.
Every. Single. Time.
Because what you’ll find, and I promise you this, is that the more
you put your arm around those that you might naturally look down on, the
more you will
love yourself. And the more you love yourself, the less need you’ll ever have to find fault or be
better than others. And the less we all find fault or have a need to be better than others, the quicker this world becomes a far
better place to live
.
And don’t we all want to live in a better world? Don’t we all want our kids to grow up in a
better, less hateful, more beautiful
world?
I know I do.
So let’s be that voice. Let’s offer that arm to others. Because, the
honest truth is… there’s gonna come a day when you or I are going to
need that same courtesy. There’s going to come a day that we are
desperate for that same arm to be put around us. We’ll be desperate for
that same friendship. We’ll be desperate for that same love.
Life will make sure of it. For you. For me. For everyone.
It always does because… as it turns out… there’s not a damn person on earth who’s perfect."
Dan Pearce, Single Dad Laughing (and here's the link to his blog/this post: http://www.danoah.com/2011/11/im-christian-unless-youre-gay.html )
