Discomfort

 AMDG

I, a man among men and women of many colors and stripes, sometimes the wolf in sheepskin and sometimes the sheep in wolfskin, all of us godly creatures of flesh and blood, to you, my fellow authentic human being, made with God’s signature, called to Greatness. I wish you joy, peace, and… discomfort.

A few years ago I moved far enough across the country to completely disrupt my social life. I made the majority of my new, real friends through my parish, and it was good. These are good friends, although changing circumstances have put a little more distance between us. My friends are also, from what I can tell, largely moderates or conservatives in their religious and social beliefs. Thus, it’s not uncommon for them to bring up gender ideology, homosexuals, which inclusive Catholic celebrity is causing a schism in the church, blah blah blah. As someone who chooses his battles, in these situations I most often either stay silent and let it blow over or I insert a respectfully dissenting statement just to interrupt the escalation or direction of the conversation. To some extent, when LGBTQ issues come up—specifically, when anti-LGBTQ opinions come up—I begin to feel like an imposter. I’m still threading the needle between reputation and responsibility. Yet I also see another dimension to this: Listening. Compassion.

I have a friend who is a professional, a mother, and a wife. She’s always saying “yes” to helping at the church. She has God-given gifts of unifying and of healing. She’s got such a love and passion for the Lord, and a sincere desire to discern his will and to glorify him. She once shared with me how upset she was when she went to parent-teacher conferences at her children’s Catholic school and saw a lesbian couple there with their children. My friend was upset, searching for words, as she explained to me that she sent her kids to Catholic school so that they could grow up with Catholic values. In my words, she wanted to protect them from the evils and moral ambiguities of an increasingly godless culture while they are vulnerable, impressionable children. And her anger, her intolerance, was the product of fear for her precious children.

I have another friend who is a professional but a bachelor. He’s friendly, always welcoming people into his home, often organizing social outings, giving of himself. He’s also got an inspiring dedication to growing his faith and becoming more Christlike. This friend and I both recently went to a square dance at an LGBTQ-friendly church. From my limited experience, these things tend to attract more women than men, and there were certainly genderqueer and lesbian attendees.* My friend disappeared early. Later, among friends, he shared his frustration, agitated to the point of being jittery as he spoke. He was uncomfortable with the possibility of dancing with a man, and he could not tell which women were straight and which were gay. In my words, he struggled to navigate this gender-bending milieu and found it hostile and alienating.

In these and other cases, I find myself in others’ safe spaces. They are being candid and vulnerable. I am honored to be there: it is a gesture of trust, friendship, and a willingness to be accompanied. Everyone needs these safe spaces to open up, to test ideas, to bring the matters of the interior into the light. And that need must be met with compassion and kindness. I was impressed recently to read a pro-reform bishop urging patience with Latin mass traditionalists (I couldn’t find the article for you); I thought, this is what we need more of in the world! Where there is hatred, let me sow love. Where there is injury, pardon.

On the other hand, we cannot fail to confront injustice in the name of sympathy—or worse, comfort. In Tema Okun’s acerbic article on elements of white supremacy culture, she has a section devoted to the “right to comfort.” She advises that “discomfort is at the root of all growth and learning.” So we must push each other and ourselves into that dissonant space.

This Sunday is Palm/Passion Sunday. We raise our voices in triumphal exclamations to rival Christmas! Jesus, the Son of David, the King of the Universe, has arrived and we glorify him! And yet, minutes later, when we see our Christ humbled and suffering, we will vilify and condemn him. The hypocrisy is piercing. It is enough, during Holy Week, to dwell only on the mysteries of Christ. And yet, it is also a sinister temptation to stop there. Where do we turn our backs on the righteous path when it becomes uncomfortable? For my two friends above, I might presume that they have recognized the dignity of the person and the importance of loving your neighbor, but have turned back when it came to reexamining their social mores. In corporate America, everyone blows the trumpet for racial diversity and equity in the workforce, but when it comes to changing the culture and structure to be more inclusive and just, the mood sours.

When I am chewing my words while my friends disparage gay or trans people; when I am deciding if I give my small group brothers the whole truth; when I am hesitating outside the door to the LGBTQ employee resource group;
when I am on the edge of my comfort zone;
I am looking at Jesus in chains.

 

A blessed, blessed Holy Week to you. I pray for you to encounter Our Lord meaningfully. Pray for me.

Peace and love,

Your Other Brother

*At square dances, you find a partner, group up with other pairs, and at various points in each dance may end up dancing with someone else’s partner. In a hetero-traditional dance, all the pairings would always be man-woman. When the pairs don’t pay attention to if the man starts on the right or the left of the woman, or aren’t man-woman in the first place, it doesn’t work out this way.