In 2012, I came to rely on Jon quite a lot in the South Puget Sound area. Due to a massive, over $2,000 payment from Social Security, I spent a lot of money on music I was interested in, whether really curious or just casually so. As such, I began listening to Metal, namely because the genre is responsible for a few running gags on HomestarRunner.com. As such, that year I got a ticket to see Iron Maiden in late July at the White River Amphitheatre. This became my first heavy metal concert, with the band displaying an amazing sense of the theatric in their performances, from the three different guitars to the amazing vocals by Bruce Dickinson to the pyrotechnics to the puppets and props designed to resemble demons. It felt like a rock and roll opera and I got hooked, I had to have more.
This caused some conflict at BCC from time to time. It wasn’t that people thought heavy metal was satanic, but they would suggest you only listen to certain bands. They had a crushing way of making you scared, and even less extreme acts like Led Zeppelin, Van Halen and Sammy Hagar weren’t safe from their ire. I’ll never forget the day one congregant actually dropped a Marie Barone-style guilt bomb on me for seeing either Sammy Hagar or the all-women Led Zeppelin tribute, Zepparella. “I’m not going to something with those bands, they sing about sex. But you do what you feel is right.”
I hate this phrase, this and “you do you” are two phrases that should die. They always come after some extremely judgmental and sometimes condescending remark meant to shame you because they express such distaste for this thing you like. I still went to the shows anyway, but it became clearer and clearer this congregant only liked rock bands he could either conclusively prove had a Christian member (and probably someone he at least thought was a right-wing radical like he was) or were The Beatles (ironic, given the whole John Lennon “we’re more popular than Jesus right now” misunderstanding that a lot of people still haven’t gotten over). As such, I was treated to an almost lifeless spinning rotisserie of Grand Funk Railroad, Deep Purple (though he liked Mark II and I know Ian Gillan, the lead singer then, is likely not a Christian), Stryper, The Byrds and The Doobie Brothers. Not that these are bad bands at all, but it was just so limited and displayed a naivete about how liberating rock and roll can feel.
Sometimes you like a song because of a powerhouse riff. Sometimes you like a song because it lets you scream out your anger. Sometimes you like a song because it has a message you agree with and sometimes you like a song because it lets you be alone and sad when you need to be.
From 2013-2015 I would listen to blaring Metal in my apartment and go South to the Seattle/Tacoma area to be liberated by music, only to be brought back to a harsh judgmental Sunday where the three men who yelled at me were given leadership positions and though I liked this other guy, he kept rubbing me the wrong way more and more. In 2014, things crossed the point of no return. I was living a very Christian Democrat life at home, praying at night, following Rachel Held Evans’ Facebook page and all three concerts I saw that year at the Tacoma Dome featured LGBTQ+ acts. The first was Miley Cyrus, who since came out as pansexual and genderfluid. The second was Katy Perry, and opening for her were two twins from Alberta, Tegan and Sara, a pair of queer lesbians, who almost immediately became one of my favorite acts. Their casual attitude on stage and love for every person out in the seats was evident and it felt very real compared to seeing KISS that June or Journey that July. The last was Judas Priest, with gay lead singer Rob Halford. The band belted out amazing metal song after amazing metal song, opening act Steel Panther even joining them on stage for “Living After Midnight.” It was clear being an ally was important to me, and though I had refuge of sorts in my apartment, the BCC congregants overall would strike devastating emotional blows without warning.
A friend of my Mom’s posted several violent and hateful things on his Facebook, surprising me with the contrast from how mellow he was on Sunday mornings. And the congregant I had befriended finally struck. I posted a simple link to a blog Rachel Held Evans was helping promote, intending to help gay people understand God better. And he commented, asking me to re-read Leviticus. My friends stood up for me online, but he still sent me a note asking me to “reconsider what you’re doing and do it from a Christian perspective.” Since when is treating love like it’s the music important thing in the universe “unchristian?” Since when is wanting to be a friend who gives spiritual advice against God’s will? But I still stayed, namely because I didn’t know where I’d go to. Six months down the line, I decided to leave, namely because it got worse.
In June 2015, the Supreme Court legalized gay marriage across the country. This congregant responded by changing his profile image to a red, white and blue picture of the man and woman on the bathroom doors, the man wearing a top hat, proclaiming “For me and my house, we will serve the Lord!” I also had the misfortune of getting let go from the job I had for less than a month the day the ruling was official. He approached me the next Sunday. I knew what he was going to say.
“Well, you wouldn’t have gotten fired if you took a more Christian approach to the issues.”
Mom intervened, asking me to pick something up from a different friend of hers. As we headed back, this friend got into conversation with one of the other congregants. She said this, “I guess I’m going to leave the country soon now that it’s the United States of Sodom and Gomorrah.”
That was my last time there.
I had really tried to make it work out, tried to endure, but with that statement, everyone there felt like an enemy. There seemed to be no one safe to talk to. The people I still had issues with were getting leadership roles, the message from too many people was repeatedly “we’re under attack,” which really means, “the country’s too Liberal for my tastes, so I will assume it is the end times and vote a sexist, racist, misogynistic jerk bag into the President’s office, Seig Heil!” and everyone there no longer felt like a friend.
I began going to Garden Street United Methodist Church in July, and it was a breath of fresh air. The first Sunday I was there, they announced they were going to take part in the Pride Parade that afternoon (I didn’t then because I had just started, but WOW, talk about best foot forward)! We care for one another and we’re family, and even in this time of distance, Pastor Kathy gives a few good YouTube videos every week which often are what I need when I need it. Children’s Teacher Melissa Newbry provides cute little Gospel cliffnotes for the children that can be just as valuable to adults. I met LGBTQ+ Christians there, Amory Peck is a force to change the world for the better and she inspires me to try harder. Often when I think of Cheri and Abbie Herwin, I think of the characters Yang and Blake from RWBY, that combination of progressing through difficulty, yet still being able to be silly and cute around friends. When I saw those two characters dance like goofballs in Season 7, I felt “that’s Cheri and Abbie, that’s totally something they would do.” And I love it.
The only hard part there now is I miss the Monday Evening events Emma Donahew would plan, where we’d have little discussions related to news, pop culture and just ideas and hopes we had. I remember one time we had a discussion on aliens, based on the movie “Contact,” and that was a great bonding moment. I also liked mentioning there my favorite space films are “Godzilla vs. Monster Zero” and the Guardians of the Galaxy films. If this can somehow get to her, know you are missed and I would be up for doing another series of Monday Meetings.
Things were definitely looking up in 2015 and even in the hard years to follow, there was still a place that felt like home. Honestly, with how troublesome my neighbors can be, Garden Street often feels better than being home, and I think that’s how Church should feel, a place where you challenge your daily behaviors and routines and ultimately are part of a great family unit. Here’s looking forward to when we can meet in person again.
No comments:
Post a Comment