My Friend
My Friend
August 7, 2022
In high school, I had only one good, best friend. The reason for this was probably the way I saw myself and the fact that I frequently tried to hide, not wanting to call attention to myself. When you were a fat, gay teenage boy, in the late 1970s living in the suburbs there were not many opportunities to be proud of who you were. Of course, I knew that my parents loved me, although my father constantly commented on my weight, but it was not the same as having a true friend, one in whom I could confide, sharing my thoughts and dreams. Finally, late in my junior year, I told my best friend that I was gay. Although not attracted to him at all, I did hope that there was a slight possibility, that he was gay as well. The reaction that I got from him was utterly devastating. He told me that homosexuals were horrible people, and then he threatened to tell my parents my deepest secret, which I thought would be safe with my best friend. I was instantly terrified. The idea of my parents finding out my secret was devastating to me. (more…)
Before I was ordained a priest, I wanted to make certain that the Orthodox Church, and in particular, the Ukrainian Orthodox Church, in which I was raised, was the right place for me to carry out my calling to the ordained ministry. Chicago, my home and where I was living at the time while in graduate school, is a wonderful city, replete with numerous ethnic communities that boast a plethora of religious communities. For almost one year I was privileged to visit numerous churches and temples and witness the religious services of prayerful worshippers. For me, I was quite sure that I wanted to be part of Christ’s family, and so it was early in my search that I decided that a non-Christian group was not for me. 
My father and I had what can only be described as an up and down relationship. My father was immensely proud of the fact that I was a priest and earned a Ph.D. and was able to teach in Seminary, educating future leaders of the Ukrainian Orthodox Church. And yet what worried him constantly, and even embarrassed him, was my life-long struggle with weight. For as long as I can remember I wanted to be a priest and for as long as I can remember I have struggled with weight issues. Although I never questioned my father’s joy and happiness with my pastoral achievements, I did have a life-long question: “Would my father love me more if I were not overweight? Not far from that question, was another disconcerting and constant question: “Would my father still love me, if he knew I was gay?” 
2020 has been a devastating year. Covid-19 has caused immeasurable harm, taking the lives of millions of people, creating unprecedented long-term illnesses, and is responsible for significant shifts in our emotional and mental states, not to mention uprooting our daily routines in life. To be sure it has also taken a toll on our spiritual lives. Many civic jurisdictions around the world have prohibited or limited our ability to gather for community worship, sing at divine services, and even caused significant, sometimes disconcerting discussion on how Holy Communion is to be administered. 
The Gospel passage about the paralytic being healed at the Pool of Bethesda has always perplexed me. (John Chapter 5). A quick reading of this passage would indicate that there is a connection between sinning and disease or prolonged illness. As someone who witnessed the debilitating illness of Alzheimer’s that my mother suffered with for over a decade, I find it unfathomable to believe that there was causation between her sinfulness and her long infirmity. She was robbed of memories and speech, recognition of loved ones and, basic human dignity. 
A few years ago my husband and I were at a social gathering when someone commented to me that they thought things were getting better for gay people. I was a bit stunned by his comment, not knowing if to pity him for his ignorance or admire his “the glass is half full” optimism. I have always been a “justice delayed is justice denied” kind of guy, but I am also a realist, understanding that societal and government changes do not happen as rapidly as some of us would like. At the time he made the remark, I was still unable to marry my “partner” after more than a decade of living together. LGBT individuals in this country could and can still be denied employment and housing based on their sexual orientation, and in other parts of the world gay people were, and are, publically debased and tortured with the sanction of state and religious authority. And yet in spite of all of this, the white, educated, heterosexual male at the social gathering believed he was right in saying to me “things are getting better.” This man knew of no ostracization from his family for wanting to marry someone of the opposite sex and raising a family, he never lost employment for being straight, he would never know ridicule in this or any other society in the world for being a heterosexual. These are realities that almost every LGBT person and couple has experienced even in the most enlightened of societies. From micro aggressions in an accepting workplace to unfathomable persecution,
About six months ago my mother passed away. For those who have lost a parent, you know that the grieving process can take longer than expected. It certainly has taken me quite a while and I am still definitely in the process. There is a holy tradition in the Orthodox Church to commemorate the deceased during a church memorial service, three days, forty days, and one year after their death. These “milestones” are observed in order, according to Orthodox theology, to give rest to the soul of the deceased. They also serve another important purpose and that is to give much needed solace to the family and friends whose loved one has passed. 
An Orthodox Christian reviews Building a Bridge – How the Catholic Church and the LGBT Community Can enter into a Relationship of Respect, Compassion, and Sensitivity by Father James Martin SJ.