Category: Gay Civil Rights

Breaking down shame and guilt for Lent


Once again, Broadway breaks from tradition this Lenten season. Instead of the usual giving up of chocolate or alcohol, we’ve asked people to face the shame or guilt in their lives that holds us back from being our full selves. We’ve decorated the church with barbed wire as a solemn reminder of our journey together — wrapped around the pulpit, the ends of the pews, the Communion Table. Wow. Barbed wire! (Hiding Out from God)

To make this more than just a gimmick, we had a powerful First Sunday of Lent. The ministers started off the service asking us to take a blank piece of paper, and think about shame or guilt in our lives that is holding us back…is plaguing our self-image. We wrote or drew that on the piece of paper during a prayerful silence, and then walked to the front of the church and placed it in a box. I call it the God box. Our collective shame and guilt points stay there throughout our Lenten journey, and at the end, the box will be destroyed. Setting aside any overtly Christian symbolism, it’s a pretty powerful exercise to face, accept and walk through things that may still hold me down. And the Spirit moved me to bring forward a clear and present danger…but before I go there, let me tell you how the service went from there.

We had a gospel choir from Grand Rapids, MI visiting – for Calvin College. As people started to walk up the silence transitioned into song. “I Am.” I heard this song the night before at their concert. And as I sat there Sunday morning, having faced the shame still hanging over my life – having been brought to the surface through recent events, including the Christian concert the night before – I started crying…ok, sobbing.

I thought I had dealt with these demons from my past before, and their hold on me had been shattered. But I realized that even today, at 45, with all the self-awareness I muster, there are still some dark clouds over my soul that need work. I was crying partly because of the pain and shame I felt, but also because of the joy I had knowing that the first step is realizing I have a problem…and through awareness comes acceptance, and the chance to overcome the bondage a little more with each step along life’s journey. The joy of freedom, fullness, and life commingled with the pain of past hurts and rejection. Bittersweet.

And that moment gave me hope for this Lenten season like you can’t imagine. So before we go any further, listen to this song. Thank you to Dr. Sawyer and her band of angels, in their blue gospel robes, singing out proudly and loudly. Hmmmm…love me some gospel music.

I’ve taken some liberties to remove some of the overtly Christian parts of his lyrics that don’t fully resonate with me. But his larger message brings me hope and healing. I hope others may find similar comfort by listening beyond the Christian dressing, because of a similar source of our shame as GLBT men and women, rejected by hardcore bible thumping Christians who lack the necessary compassion and acceptance that I’ve found at Broadway. I can’t honestly say I believe the whole doctrine as gospel, but see it as another way of telling the story of our common humanity, our connectedness and our need to find community and connection. So for me, this is a song about those friends around me who have stood by me, seen my wholeness and possibility even when I couldn’t; who held my hand, who listened to my pain, and showed me truth and beauty and possibility.

“In the pain is a plan… How do you do? I am human; now I believe, not who I was, but still not what I shall be. (A friend) found me and gave me a name, things I’ve desired have changed. But inside you’ll see, it’s still broken pieces…deep in me reaches for you (my friend)…though I may fall, you stand by my side. You speak (truth and comfort) and gone is the weight of my mistakes. I am so far from perfect, I thought life is worthless, until you showed me who I am.  Not here by mistake…”

I Am, by Kirk Franklin

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CIUCiERkmog

So my shame, even today, is about being gay.

Though I know there is nothing to be ashamed of, growing up in a heterosexist world that too often tells me the opposite story, I’ve managed to internalize some of that homophobia.  Four years at college at the hands of an ultra-right wing Christian cult didn’t help: they tried to make me straight. I went thru ex-gay ministries (which don’t work!), and even attended Homosexuals Anonymous – a 12+2 step program to help people overcome their homosexuality, as if it’s on the same level as an addiction to crack cocaine or pornography.  And when I finally “found myself” again at 22, and came out of the closet a second time…I lost all of those “deep Christian friendships” from school, because they couldn’t associate with me anymore.  I even got a handwritten letter from my pastor and friend Ted Jungkuntz, telling me how he “had no other choice” but to turn his back on our friendship, because he couldn’t “hang with me” anymore as a gay man.  I lived with this man, his wife and his family for a year…sang songs after dinner while washing dishes…shared deep, dark secrets…and in the blink of a judging eye, it was all gone.  Phil Armbruster, gone.  John Graves, gone.  Dozens of men I shared community with, and summer households with…vanished.  Paul Dull, the one who probably did the most damage to my psyche as a young, influential college-aged man…turned his back on me.

So, like many gay men, it was YEARS before I could think about entering a house of worship again.  I now know the difference between religion and spirituality – and find wholeness in the latter, because I know in my heart I’m a physical, emotional, intellectual AND spiritual being.  But the pain and shame and brokenness from the former still hangs over my head.  I realized last weekend, as I listened to the stories of faith from the Calvin Gospel Choir, that the dark cloud of shame came over me, expecting the same level of rejection and judgement from this group of “strong, faithful Christians” that I experienced from the Word of God Community and University Christian Outreach.

I realize, of course, that this has now become my own internal prejudice about “Christians,” which I have to be careful of less I lump all people of faith into the same boat as Ted and Phil and Paul.  And even with these men, I realize that until I’m able to forgive them, I let their power hang over me even today.  Damn.  More work to do this Lent.

And, as I’ve already written, some 20 years later, the hatred and rejection of my grandfather still tugs at my heart with sadness.  But again, that’s on him – his weakness and narrow-mindedness.  It doesn’t mean I’m the one who has something to be ashamed of, as a gay man, any more than women or blacks have to feel shame for past civil injustices, supported by the same bible fundamentalism that judges gay and lesbian people today.  In this, we share a common humanity, a common pain…and ultimately, a common victory.

So, since this weekend of revelation when I wrote down “Word of God,” “UCO,” and the pink triangle on my piece of paper…I’ve listened over and over to the song “I am…” as well as one more song from my past, both of which do bring comfort and relief…reminding me that there is freedom from this bondage, as soon as I’m ready to let go.

Thank you to my friend Matt McCoy who introduced me to this song of Blessing…for the first time in a long time, I found a new truth I could believe in about myself, about who I love…and how it’s exactly what God has planned for me.

“Who I love is exactly what God has planned.  Just try to remember, I’m still your baby, your blood, have your eyes, have your smile.  I’m sorry this hurts you, I’m sorry this numbs you.   But I’m not ashamed of this fire I’ve inflamed; I was given this gift to love from heaven’s hands.  Don’t abandon me now for loving another man.  All I ask is in time, you’ll give me your Blessing.”

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pv0xEXgJeQU

My grandfather is dead, so it will be hard to ever hear his love, but must choose to forgive him for his actions.  But gladly before my mom died, I felt the fullness of her love.  She went from telling me in the 90s that AIDS was God’s judgment on homosexuals, to writing me a handwritten note after I was diagnosed with HIV+ in 2012, letting me know that she loved me just as I am.   I can cling to this truth, this blessing…and in doing so, loosen the bondage and shame that clearly still has a bit of a hold on my soul.  May I find deeper forgiveness for Pop-Pop, Ted, Phil and others during this Lenten season, because it’s only in letting go that I will find the freedom I know I deserve.

Love and acceptance win out over hatred and rejection every time…REALLY!


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My grandmother passed away last Fall, just shy of her 101st birthday. She’s been a widow since 1995, when my grandfather died from prostate cancer.  Back then, we didn’t know as much as we know now…and it was an ugly, slow and painful death.  In fact, I raise awareness and funds every year now during “Movember” because of his health situation…as well as his brother and dad’s, who also died of prostate cancer…

I grew up close to my grandparents (on my mom’s side), as well as my dad’s mom.  My paternal grandfather died when I was young so I never really knew him.  In my high school years, we spent almost every Christmas or Thanksgiving with the Schneider’s, as our home in New Jersey was a short 2 hours from theirs in Pennsylvania.  I flew in my grandfather’s plane, helped him learn electronic typewriters, automated spreadsheets and computers.  From family photos and videos, I know that growing up, we spent a lot of time with them as well.  I have 2 full VCR tapes, sprinkled with visits to Mee-maw and Pop-pop, or Mee-maw Fuqua.  My grandfather came to my college graduation, and was pretty proud of my budding IT career at Lilly.  I was there about 5 years when he passed away…

What I learned at the time, in 1995, was he harbored some hatred of my homosexuality.  He thought less of me quite honestly, and didn’t think a same-sex partner of mine should be treated with the same respect that my brother and sister’s spouses were and would be.  We discovered this based on some wording in the legal terms of stocks that he left the grandkids in 1995.  Though few thought it was legally valid, he basically forbade any of the money he willed to me, to go to my “issue” when I died (a legal term for my dependents, aka my same-sex partner or  spouse should I be in a long-term relationship).  That was a bitter pill of rejection to swallow at the ripe age of ~25, after thinking I was so loved and respected all those years growing up.  His stubborn German mindset won out in the end, and he wrote hatred and discrimination into his last Will and Testament.

At the time, I remember my grandmother looking at me sternly, and saying something to the effect of “I will not stand for that, Todd.  No worries – consider this undone as far as I’m concerned.   He was perhaps not in his right mind at his death…but regardless, I will not have you treated like that.”  I knew the unconditional love and acceptance of my Polish matriarch…she ruled the nest in the end, and love and acceptance won out in the end.

Fast forward to this week.  It turns out, my grandfather’s ugly act reached further in the future (now the present…)  My grandmother was living off a trust set up in her name, but established and governed by my grandfather’s Last Will and Testament some 20 years ago.  As would normally be the case, once she were to pass, any remaining funds would be left to their children, my mom and Uncle.  And, as would normally be the case, should one of those “issues” precede my grandmother in death, then their share would be distributed to their “issues” – their children.

So, to translate all that into English…since my mom died before my grandmother, her share of the remaining trust would normally be split equally to my sister, my brother and me. Normally.  If my grandfather didn’t breath more hatred and rejection into his last decisions…  As his only gay grandchild, he chose to exclude me from these final arrangements….a final slap in the face from the grave if you will.

(I’m sorry – call it what you will, but it hurts even 20 years later…so spare me the glossy discounting.  Call a spade a spade…)

Of course, my grandmother’s spirit lives on…and I’m glad to have siblings who love me unconditionally, and have loved my partners Jeff and Jerry as their own in-laws….particularly “Uncle Jerry.”  So, like their grandmother, they immediately sought to right the situation and ensure that love and acceptance triumphed.  In fact, since the “hate letter” from the lawyer came to us while I was on vacation, my sister was particularly worried how I might react, reading it cold turkey yesterday.  So, she reached out to my dad (who I was visiting in Florida for an escape to warmer climates and time with family..) to make sure that he told me in person what to expect in the letter…and that my siblings had already brainstormed ways to shave off my share and get it to me, in spite of the old coot’s wishes. 😉

My siblings will probably never fully appreciate how that simple act of preemptive and unconditional love meant to me…how much it brought some relief and healing to the wound that was ripped back open, having been healed in the past by Mee-maw’s similar act of justice.  Of course, I will tell them..and share this post with them.  But until you’ve experienced such hatred and rejection simply for who you are, how you were born…one can only empathize, not sympathize.

I’m eternally grateful for Mee-maw, Lisa and Jonathan’s act of love and acceptance — as well as my dad’s gesture of conversation.

Rest assured, I’m sure that Pop-pop has already been “set right” in Heaven by the Powers that Be, my Mom and my Grandmother…and woe to him particular for Mee-maw’s swift words…forget the Powers that Be in this case 😉  She chewed him out good…I can hear her…“Groh, you selfish, silly man…how could you?”  As only a 100+ year old first generation American-Polish matriarch could…