Pope Benedict XVI: Waving away Gay people

Pope Benedict XVI: Waving away Gay people

by Lisa Neff - Courtesy of 365Gay.com The pope came to America last week&. And waved at some Gay people. Sound like the first line of a joke? But it's true, and the Gay people he waved toward were pleased, though not totally pacified. The members of Dignity Washington, a chapter of the Gay Catholic group Dignity USA, stood along Rock Creek Parkway in D.C., awaiting the papal motorcade on April 16. The group's banner proclaimed, "Dignity Washington - Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual and Transgender Catholics, Our Families and Friends - A Community of Faith in Action." The Washington Blade reported that the pope passed by, looked at the demonstrators and waved. That's a lot better than giving the contingent the finger, but I'm unimpressed. You could say that I've got a chip on my shoulder about as tall as the pontiff's pointed hat and a lot heavier. The chip has been growing since I was 12 years old and kicked out of CCD class - which was like Sunday school but not on Sunday. The last time I really poked around a church I was celebrating my 35th birthday on a Chicago Gangsterland tour and looking for Capone-era bullet holes in the walls of Holy Name Cathedral. I am a member of the "raised Catholic population," a member of the flock who can't reconcile the "peace-be-with-you" attitude of parishioners and the offensive doctrine of the church, which calls homosexuality an intrinsic moral evil. I was a confused kid with too many questions and not enough good answers about my religion and church rules when I got the boot from CCD. Of course, another factor in my ouster from St. Anastasia CCD was the fact that my parents had chosen to enroll my siblings in the rival Immaculate Conception. The money was going somewhere else; so should I. The action of the priest and my teacher at St. Annie's saved me from studying for my confirmation and it saved the priest and the sisters from my further questioning. I retell that story for people who ask me about my religion. And I like to bravely and boldly end with the kicker, "The church told me to go to hell." But honestly, there's much I liked and miss about going to church and having a religion. Belonging to the larger group gave me instant friends and gave me immediate allegiances. I remember loving the magnificence of the church. I didn't understand the prayers, but I found comfort in the repetitions, and the traditions of the mass. I remember feeling warm when shaking hands and sharing the "peace be with you" with those all around. I loved how groovy the tunes were at guitar mass in the early 1970s. Did disco kill guitar mass? Did conservatism kill guitar mass? But my chip eventually got so heavy I stopped regularly attending mass in high school. By college I was a non-practicing Catholic who thought maybe there was some room for me in the church's left wing, where the nuns hung out with activists attired in hemp. But by my mid-20s, I could not take a seat in a church pew. I could neither ignore nor reconcile the church's views on homosexuality, abortion, birth control and gender. Aside from weddings, I haven't been to a Catholic mass since Mother's Day 1991, when I walked out of church to find children selling red roses to pay to print their parents' anti-abortion pamphlets. I no longer tell people I'm a non-practicing Catholic. I tell people I was raised Catholic. Why not say "ex-Catholic"? I can't - being Catholic is part of my upbringing and integral to my family. That's why the chip feels so burdensome, because the church's flawed notions about love and marriage and sex and gender have cost me - and so many others - so much more than a seat in a pew or a desk in CCD. The church teachings have tarnished vital memories of my childhood, strained some family relations, colored my optimism and wrecked my religion. I can't wave goodbye, but I'm far from impressed with today's church leadership - and a wave from Pope Benedict XVI.