It’s been a fairly normal, boring weekend chez static. Groceries, some errands, nothing exotic.
I did, however, run across something on Twitter that sparked some rumination (as things are wont to do). I’m being followed by a well-meaning-ish twat who assumes that everyone who follows an anti-gay Twitter account shares their beliefs. As y’all may or may not know, Washington voted to recognize same-sex marriages this year. No ‘activist judges’, this was a straight-up, hard-fought legislative victory. And, thanks to our oft-abused referendum system, the bigots are trying to overturn this with R74 (Vote yes, kids.). I follow their Twitter feed – I like to keep my enemies where I can see ‘em.
Any way, this twit likes baiting anti-gay Twitter accounts. Sometimes they’re random individual accounts, but more often than not they go after NOM; other times, they go after fairly noxious right-wing douchebags – but every now and then, their attacks on an individual reveal… interesting things.
Earlier today, they went after a Catholic friar in California. No invective, just “why do you [follow/support] hate?” This guy’s response: a link to what sounds like an awful film about an armed uprising by Catholic peasants in Mexico against a secularist government.
Woah. That’s some serious hate there, Padre. Advocating armed rebellion? Because you love the sinner but hate the sin? Sounds more like there’s some Ernst Rohm-level fantasizing at work there… Some combo of righteous, purifying cultural flames and hot, sweaty friar-on-twink action would be my guess. Toss in some Franco-esque uniforms and I think we’re there, thankyouverymuch.
But that wasn’t really the insight (and aren’t you grateful?). No, it was remembering one of the final incidents that made me realize I needed to part ways with the Church.
At some point during Confirmation classes, I got a ride home from a retreat from our parish priest. Our Diocese was unusual in that they held off Confirmation longer than most – I was a junior in high school, when most perform Confirmation much younger: 12, 13 or so. I don’t remember what sparked it, but I said something about others in the class just going through the motions (I was still grasping at straws, here – I wanted desperately to believe that I was wrong in my heart, and that there were still Truths to be found in Catholicism.). I named names, and called out a couple of sociopaths who had made junior high miserable for me.
I got a red-faced, indignant lecture on the sin of Pride. There was no effort to understand how I came to my conclusion, just an angry and judgmental scolding for my failings as a Christian and my inability to act in the manner of the Redeemer.
Yeah. That went over well. That week, I told my parents that I wasn’t going through with it – that I couldn’t reconcile (that word! that damaging word!) my own experience with my lessons. Square pegs in round holes had nothing on this. Ultimately, they guilt-tripped me (ironically) into going through the motions as well.
For whatever random synaptic reason, tonight’s Twitter encounter with this dogma-blinded, overly-righteous Hound of Christ made something go click. Something about the need to hold on to make-believe truths, to white-hot fires of lies in order to preserve your vision of the world as it should be. Because, you see (and fuck you, Father Bob, you prick), I was right.
I’m pretty sure that I’m right now, too.