"Does your family know you've rejected The Church's teachings?"

So, I knew stopping by Saturday's rally and protest wouldn't be "problem free", what with growing up here in town and having lots of my family, friends, old coworkers, classmates and fellow parishioners all over the Valley and City of Napa. Busy intersection, lots of visibility, hot topic, hometown: something was bound to happen. And it did.

Of course, I "survived", but managed to take it very personal in the process.

Someone I know from church--not a friend, mind you, but someone from the more conservative part of my Catholic Parish--saw me when I was making my "picket" rounds on the Jefferson sidewalk and waved hello to me, suspiciously. He was with the Yes on 8 crew. I, of course, was holding a No on 8 sign.

He casually asked me if I had left the Church. I responded no. He then asked me a follow up, "So you just reject the Church's teachings?" "No." I responded again, flatly, and taken back by his forwardness. By then a friend stepped in and pulled me back into the picket line and we walked away (my friend of course, chanting loudly and spitefully, "No on 8! No on 8!", just to make a point.).

Later, when we were taking a break from the picket loop, that judgmental man walked over to me again and mentioned how he was seriously concerned for my soul and my spiritual well being. I told him that I was fine and doing well with God. He then continued to accuse me of multiple things--of rejecting the Truth of the Church, of rejecting the Bishops' teachings, of needing to improve my morality, and worse: that he knows and cares about my family and what would they think if they knew I was out there? It came out like a threat. I was flabbergasted. Was he trying to say he was going to out me to my family as an attack?

I don't want to recount my full response here, but I was a whirlwind of thoughts, feelings, fears and arguments. Since the beginnings of my acceptance of my gay self a little over 3 years ago, I knew that the most healing and holy thing for me to do was to find a way to love myself as a Catholic and love myself as a gay man. I grew up in and loved so much about the Catholic Church, and yet much of the rejection and judgment I felt in my fear of coming out in the first place was from that very same Church. In spite of the strong and innate spirituality that are at the heart of many of my queer brothers and sisters (I really do feel that a strong spiritual sense is a gift of homosexuality), many will probably not understand why I even want to maintain my Catholicity. In fact, many queer people--due to the rejection, judgment and isolation taught by the Church--say you can't be gay and Catholic. Many Catholics (or Christians) demand that you can't be truly Christian and gay. I think the truth is in neither of those statements and that I can be whomever I truly am--which, for me, is Catholic and gay.

However, all I could communicate in the moment of being in front of my accuser was that I believe most of all that God is about love and based on that, we should not write discrimination into our State's constitution. Still shellshocked, I listened respectfully to his further accusations and continually hoped he was listening to what I had to say. I knew if I flipped out it would not help him hear me any better. In the end, I am pretty sure he didn't want to hear me or know me at all.

Like I said, I was expecting something to happen, and it could have been worse. I went on Saturday to stand as a witness that my relationship with God and my identity as a gay man--my belief in God's love as greater than any restrictions that churches or humans place on it--can exist fully and gloriously intermingled. I went on Saturday for all those who are too complacent, too lazy or too afraid to stand up for themselves or their loved ones. I hope you will stand with me, because I can't do this alone.

Thank you to my friends and family who are with me daily.