A gay stage comedy recently ran in town. It was a new play by a local gay playwright. The theme dealt with the conflict of being both a devout Christian and LGBT. With all that as a draw, I admit I should have seen it. But, I did read the extensive previews and reviews by our city’s revered theater critics. Some are straight. Others, I presume, are gay. Their commentaries were generally positive, if not gushingly so. Some exposed the plot, dialogue and characters so specifically that I’m sure I could have aced a pop quiz on them. But I also spoke with several gay friends who actually attended the show. Their disparate responses weren’t exactly a Rashomon effect, but their takeaways were less enthusiastic.
The comedy is rooted in the notion of the inherent and, perhaps, irreconcilable conflict of LGBTs of Christian faith and their religion’s condemnation of homosexuality. For LGBT believers, it’s an admirable and heroic cross to bear and allows for lots of intellectualized soul searching. For that, they deserve respect and a heartfelt “there, there.” It also explored the pressures of the societal expectations that surround identity. There’s a universal in that. Maybe the straight audience can see themselves in a similar circumstance. Let he who is without sin throw the first stone, and all.
I know a lot of LGBTs who pursue their faith one way or the other. Some go to accepting mainstream churches and synagogues; others to the Metropolitan Community Church (the one founded by and for LGBTs). Others persist in going to their not-so-embracing traditional houses of worship, singing in choirs and being exemplary. There are even Christian LGBTs—Catholics in particular—who, out of devotion to their faith, deny their natural love and live in celibacy. The irony is, of course, that many of the priests they emulate, despite their vow, take a more liberal interpretation of the practice. Self-flagellation and self-denial are pitiful things to witness. I know of a retired gay priest whose advice to gays is to not come out at all.
Meanwhile, for many LGBTs like my friends who saw the play, rehashing our outside-looking-in isolation just reinforces the stereotype of gays begging for acceptance. There’s a point at which self-rationalization for the sake of explaining ourselves to others becomes tired. I know the challenges of being gay and being raised Catholic; my mother was particularly pious and I was on the path to the priesthood. Then, after minor seminary, Vatican II, six years of a Jesuit college education and, of course, puberty along the way, I moved on. Mom understood. (Although, admittedly, I do miss the incense, vestments and stained glass.)
In the canon of LGBT theater, we can go back to the wit and wisdom of Oscar Wilde or Tennessee Williams’ explorations of our dire angst. In 1968, we took a harsh, introspective look at ourselves in The Boys in the Band. But today things should be different. God is Love, Jesus once said, so it seems natural to live and love naturally. I might enjoy seeing a comedy about that.
