A Shepherd's Story

The night is cool
The lambs lie sleeping.
Yet there's a star up in the sky
That's somehow taken hold of me
It lights a stable
That's strangely quiet
A voice within whispers "Go"
Though I'm not sure what I'll see

What is the reason
I've come to be here?
I've been right here a thousand times
Yet some new feeling fills the air
Am I a witness
To something special?
Is this a story I'm supposed to share?

I steal up closer
And peek inside
I see a mother filled with love cradling an infant filled with light
The baby's sleeping
And all is peaceful
I wonder--is it just by chance this child was born this night?

Is this the reason
I've come to be here?
I've been right here a thousand times
Yet some new feeling fills the airAm I a witness
To something special?
Is this a story I'm supposed to share?

Is this the Christ child--a gift from the Creator
Who loves the world, who loves us--each and ev'ry one
And as a promise of His love,
Has reached down from above
And breathed His life into this gift to us--His son?

The years have passed now
And I've outlived Him
I guess he wasn't ours to keep-- was only with us for a while
But with my own eyes
I saw Him--Jesus,
When I remember His angelic face, I cannot help but smile

There was a reason
For me to be there
Right where I'd been a thousand times
When some new feeling filled the air
I was a witness
To something special
It was a story I was born to share

So I've told this story each and ev'ry Christmas
When I'm no longer here to tell it
Tell them. . .
Tell them. . . I was there.

by Phil Hall
Christmas Day, 2010

Oh, Tidings of Comfort and Joy

Liturgically speaking, Christmas and Easter are my favorite two times of year when I get to either perform or hear beautiful music of the season. Saturday, I had the good fortune to play a Christmas program with the singing group, Nobody's Business at The Silo at Hunt Hill Farm in Connecticut--Skitch and Ruth Henderson's inspired and beautiful cooking school/art gallery and concert space. Nobody's Business is made up of three female singers--Alecia Adams Evans, Cadden Jones, and Linda Sue Moshier. To an intimate audience in a space that feels like someone's Vermont retreat living room, the ladies were their charming selves, and sang beautifully--popular Christmas standards, and some carols.

This morning, I had the great good fortune of playing the piano for "A Service of Lessons and Carols" at Church of St. Paul and St. Andrew at West End Avenue and 86th Street in Manhattan. The splendid Minister of Music there, Dr. Frank Glass, had assembled an amazing choir, and some awesome string players, a fine percussionist as well as a sumptuous oboist for their annual service of lessons and carols. The choir and players simply knocked the ball out of the park with their illuminating performances today. I was so lucky to be in attendance, and especially blessed to be asked to be a part of the music-making.

One of my best friends from my undergraduate school--UNC at Chapel Hill, Tony McDowell, who passed away a number of years ago from Burkitt's lymphoma (chemotherapy complications), was the long-term companion of Dr. Glass. Tony--a splendid baritone and voice teacher--and I spent many happy holidays singing in the choir at Church of SPSA on special occasions at Frank's invitation. In addition to the moving and beautiful arrangements we got to sing, I always looked forward to the fellowship I felt from all the folks in the choir and the church there, and I got to spend a little time making music with Tony, or "my beloved girlfriend" as I often called him.

Having grown up as a pianist in a Southern Baptist Church in Durham, NC (Angier Avenue Baptist Church), I remember the Christmas eve service when the church lights would be turned off and candles were lighted as we sang "Silent Night." I can't even write about it without getting choked up with emotion at the holiness of that moment, and the specialness of it as well. Even as a young man, I realized that that moment was a very special one, and if I were lucky enough to have a few more moments like that in my lifetime, that I would have lived a very rich life.

And this morning, I was blessed to have another such moment. For the hymn, "Silent Night" today, only a trio was playing--a harpist, oboist and string player, so I was free to sing the hymn at my piano, or attempt to. As I looked out into the church at the sea of candlelight, I got a sense of what it must have felt like on that day long ago when the light of the star shining over Bethlehem announced the gift about to be bestowed upon the world. I couldn't sing any longer, and I was moved by how--for a brief, beautiful moment, we were able to dwell as a people in harmony. There is a big banner normally in the church of SPSA that speaks of how good it is when brothers and sisters can dwell together in harmony, and surely I was experiencing that this morning.

The extraordinary minister at SPSA, K. Karpen, who is both highly intelligent and very funny, and a great humanitarian, and under whose ministry I have seen that church blossom into the incredible church that it has become--vital, loving, compassionate, kind, demonstra-tive--was in his typical rare form in the pulpit. He spoke of things that sometimes divide us, but shouldn't--race, sexual orientation, politics, intolerance--in a way that had us laughing at one moment, and tearing up at the next, inspiring us with his words in a way that we can really hear them. And, as if this wasn't enough, Victoria Clark, the Tony-award winning Broadway star of "The Light In The Piazza" who has one of the most glorious sopranos I have ever heard, sang "O Holy Night" so exquisitely, so lustrously that I could hardly breathe.

So, thank you, Church of SPSA for the gift of Christmas--for the tidings of comfort and joy that I feel every time I attend your wonderful church.

"The Good of the Universal Church"

I'm a Christian, but not a Catholic, and so I can speak with little to no authority about the come-uppance the Catholic church is reaping from its long-adhered-to tradition of merely shuffling from diocese to diocese (rather than defrocking and prosecuting) ordained priests suspected of and/or convicted of child abuse. But as a gay human being, I struggle with what Pope Benedict XVI meant when he--as a top Vatican official, and after a priest (who had been convicted of tying up and abusing two young boys in a California church rectory) and his bishop both asked that he be defrocked--signed a letter stating that the case needed more time, and that "the good of the Universal Church" had to be considered in making that decision.

"The good of the Universal Church. . . "

Hmmmm. . .

That sounds a lot like "if we don't acknowledge it publicly, it never happened." Wonder how those two boys who were tied up and abused feel about the good of the Universal Church? I wonder if their young hearts and souls were ministered to, apologized to, and if they were told they had done nothing to cause what had happened to them?

I do believe in accountability--which is something the Catholic church is beginning to have to deal with in ways other than financially [settlements] and clandestinely as the continued cases of abuse from all over the world begin to bubble up as congregants--struggling to be whole--are having the courage to speak up against what, at one time, seemed unspeakable.

I was thankful to read recently that, in the suicide of Phoebe Prince, a fifteen-year-old Massachusetts girl who was bullied "to death" by her peers, felony charges are being brought against the bullies. They are actually being held accountable for their unkind, unthinking actions that contributed to the death of this young girl, rather than our sighing and shrugging our shoulders as we try to make sense of this precious young life squandered for no good reason.

Understand that it is not my wish that the Catholic church be punished, or that Pope Benedict XVI be excoriated either. Their coffers are being emptied, and they are being taken to task in the press aplenty without my wishing it upon them.

I have learned in my fifty-seven years that for someone to have any chance of being physically, psychologically and emotionally healthy, they must be able to bring all of who they are to the table. It astonishes me that Catholic priests are still asked to take a vow of celibacy, although I'm sure some tiny percentage of those who take that vow actually achieve it. The act of taking the vow of chastity itself seems like it might supercharge the desire to explore one's sexual self. I'm sure, on some primal level, the design is to stave off "impure thoughts," with purity of spirit trumping carnality.

When I grew up in North Carolina, we had a Minister of Education at our Southern Baptist Church who later admitted to me (when I was grown, and neither of us were still members of that church) that he would sneak out during the day to see whatever films he heard us talking about because he wanted to be able to understand our perspectives on them. I admired that. Those may not have been films he might have sought out on his own for all kinds of reasons--but to understand and be able to minister to our needs, he needed to know what sparked our opinions, and what pop cultural icons impacted us. He familiarized himself with the literature, movies and music of our time to be better attuned to us.

We didn't have confession in the Southern Baptist Church when I was growing up, and unless something's changed, they don't have it now either. We had our own version of that--we had an "invitation hymn" at the end of the service. If we felt the need to talk to the pastor about something, and could muster the courage to walk down the aisle in front of everyone, we could do that. It had a similar function to confession, I expect--that of "coming clean" about what was on our hearts. I’ve wondered if the act of being celibate poses any sort of difficulty for a priest to relate to a congregant confessing a sin of the flesh (since this is outside of the [celibate] priest’s realm of experience)?

Some other faiths allow priests to be married. And yet, some of those still try to "police" the kind of relationship the priests may be involved in, which kind of amuses me on some level. Finding a loving relationship between two people is still one of the miracles of life. Many who think they find it later become disenchanted and divorce. Many remarry--still looking for love. But most of us seem to either seek love out, or hope for it. It seems that priests of any faith ought to also be able to serve God while loving another human being in a special way.

I asked someone with whom I was once very close (in North Carolina) if she would ever sit her two children down and tell them I was gay. She is a very smart, and very conservative Christian woman--almost fundamentally so, and I was curious what her response would be. I had hoped she would say, "Of course I will." But, to my surprise, she replied, "If they ask." To sit her two children down and tell them that her good friend was gay shamed her on some level. She felt she could somehow love me, but hate the "sin" of my gayness. Ironically, when her daughter was of college age, her daughter--who was studying medicine--asked my sister if I was gay. My sister told her yes. She told my sister that she and her husband had chosen to enroll in some gay-sensitivity training because of the attitudes they held about gay people. They wanted to know if it would be okay if they were in touch with me during this time. Thankfully, after nineteen years, the daughter had the forethought to realize that sick people from all walks of life would come to her someday to be treated, and it would be difficult for her to be a thorough, understanding and loving doctor if she viewed any of her patients with disdain because of who they happened to be, or how they presented themselves.

We like what we know. Or at least we're comfortable with it. When we think with our heads, we can be judging, dogmatic, and miss so much about another person. We can hurt someone with our unthinking, unfeeling words. We can even kill them. When we think with our hearts--like Jesus, about whom Charles Wesley so eloquently described as "risen with healing in His wings," we can heal one another, and, like Jesus, bring "light and life to all."

You See, These Three U.S. Evangelicals Went To Uganda, and . . .

I’m sure by now you’ve either read or heard the story of the three U.S. evangelicals who went to Uganda to do a series of talks on “the gay agenda” to both politicians and police officers. The three evangelicals were presented as experts on homosexuality, though one is a missionary who has written several books against homosexuality; one is a “former” gay man who leads “healing seminars” now, and one is a board member of Exodus International, whose mission is to “mobilize the body of Christ to minister grace and truth to a world impacted by homosexuality” (whose grace and truth, I wonder). After the evangelicals’ visit, the Ugandans have proposed a bill that would impose a death sentence for homosexual behavior. The three evangelicals are now back peddling in hopes of distancing themselves from the flame they fanned in Uganda with the toxic intolerance they espouse. Particularly interesting is the fact that one of the evangelicals, Scott Lively—a missionary no less, acknowledged meeting with Ugandan lawmakers to discuss the bill the Ugandans drafted. Later, according to the New York Times—Mr. Lively said he was very disappointed that the proposed legislation was so harsh.

Having grown up in a Southern Baptist Church as a gay man with Jesse Helms as state senator, you’d think I’d be used to the religious right and its hate mongering and prejudice against anything outside of its realm of experience. I guess I’m not all that surprised that its ideology prevails, but I surely get weary of them hijacking Jesus and God, and dragging them--kicking and screaming, along with them.

Don Schmeirer, a board member of Exodus International, and one of the three visiting evangelicals was invited to speak on parenting skills for families with gay children. He acknowledged telling audiences that homosexuals could be turned into heterosexuals.

According to The American Academy of Pediatrics: “ The current literature and most scholars in the field state that one’s sexual orientation is not a choice; that is, individuals do not choose to be homosexual or heterosexual. There is no scientific evidence that abnormal parenting, sexual abuse, or other adverse life events influence sexual orientation.” But what can the American Academy of Pediatrics possibly know that Don Schmeirer, author of An Ounce of Prevention: Preventing the Homosexual Condition in Today’s Youth, and Scott Lively, author of Seven Steps To Recruit Proof Your Child, don’t?

To be fair, I should mention that Don Schmeirer and four others at Exodus International (including a “former” homosexual) have sent a letter (whose contents may be read at the link below) to Uganda’s President Museveni.
http://www.exodusinternational.org/content/view/1007/37/

If one is a Christian, as I happen to be, there is not a God of “homosexuals” and a God of “heterosexuals.” There is but one God who created us all. I can no longer sit silently when the attitudes and behaviors of others perpetuate violence against homosexuals (lgbt [lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgendered]).

I am an ardent supporter of the First Amendment, and I appreciate that, in America, we have the right to say what we choose, even if we choose to ignore the wisdom of professionals (like that of the American Academy of Pediatrics) and dogmatically adhere to the strictures of our religious beliefs—we can still say it. And we can continue to live our lives in an uninformed, uneducated, unenlightened manner. But our words—spoken and written, our attitudes and behaviors do have a pronounced effect upon others, as in Uganda. Our behaviors do indeed have consequences, and when those consequences impact the very lives and liberty of lgbt, I am compelled to speak.

In my lifetime, I have never wished that others would be like me, or that they’d live their lives the way I see fit. Their precious lives are just that—theirs, and I would not begin to have them be what I think they should be. I haven’t walked in others’ shoes, so I have no idea what is going on inside them. Could be they’re living an extraordinary life under the circumstances. None of us could ever know the rich tapestry and fabric of others’ lives unless each person sat down and told his or her life story. But even then, they’ve managed to get through their lives without my intervention. And that is the beauty of our differences. How uninteresting life would be if we each had the same story to tell—if we each had lived the same life.

It is this would-be intervention of these evangelicals as touted in even the titles of their books (An Ounce of Prevention: Preventing the Homosexual Condition in Today’s Youth, and Seven Steps To Recruit Proof Your Child) that makes me shudder.

The American Psychological Association, American Psychiatric Association, and National Association of Social Workers state: “Sexual orientation has proved to be generally impervious to interventions intended to change it, which are sometimes referred to as “reparative therapy.” No scientifically adequate research has shown that such interventions are effective or safe. Moreover, because homosexuality is a normal variant of human sexuality, national mental health organizations do not encourage individuals to try to change their sexual orientation from homosexual to heterosexual. Therefore, all major national mental health organizations have adopted policy statements cautioning the profession and the public about treatments that purport to change sexual orientation.”

I have lived for fifty-seven years and have never known another lgbt person to “recruit” someone into homosexuality. Truth is—even if someone tried to “recruit” another, it’s not possible. One’s sexual orientation does not change and cannot change regardless of having a single homosexual experience or multiple homosexual experiences in one’s lifetime.

If, as a Christian, one takes away a single notion from all of its tenets, that notion—for me—is that the heart of the law of Christianity is love. It is compassion, kindness, treating others as we would have them treat us. Jesus said that we are the light of the world, and I believe that is so, and will forever be. There is no limit to how we human beings can impact the world in a good way—healing, taking care of one another, supporting, loving, creating, problem-solving—and make the world a better place because of our presence in it. I expect that the evangelicals believe that, in their misguided “love-the-homosexuality-right-out-of-you” way, that they are fulfilling the heart of the law as well. But the greater sense of love to which I believe we are called is to love another for who we are, and who we were created to be. Not one of us can ever know the potential of goodness that another is capable of. But his/her delicious presence on this earth, and our chance to get to know him/her as we live, is but one more affirmation of the richness and awesomeness of life. We must learn to let each other be.