glbt

The parable of the wedding banquet for me speaks to an invitation for all people, but also an invitation that is not without preconditions. First and foremost, we are expected to treat the host, and everyone present, with respect. This brings to mind Communion, which I feel very strongly is the heart of what Christianity is supposed to really be about. All are invited. The precondition is not who you are, or what path in life you are coming from, but how you treat the people around you when you are "at the banquet." There is also the way in which we respond to the invitation that must be considered. Those potential guests who ignore or reject the invitation do not enjoy the banquet. This should not be confused with a literal invitation into church, but rather an expression of God's invitation to each one of us, calling us to full life and wholeness. The other precondition is how you are present at the banquet. It's not enough to just show up.

I have a new defense for all those self-proclaimed orthodox bloggers who might criticize Saint Anthony Shrine for being welcoming of gay and lesbian Catholics:

At least we don’t have a Buddha.

It seems that down in Australia, a bishop there has issued a warning to a “renegade” parish “where women can preach, homosexual couples can be blessed and social justice is championed.” It seems the church is “operating outside practices and policies acceptable to the Roman Catholic Church.” (God forbid the Church should champion social justice.) The bishop concluded that whatever good the parish might be doing, it is decidedly not Catholic. (The crisis was, of course, precipitated by a person not a member of the parish who came in and took surreptitious photographs – yet another Catholic snitch on a self-appointed crusade to purify the Church. If you’re worried about impurities, my friends, try Lysol.)

My new book Since My Last Confession: A Gay Catholic Memoir is now available.  Publishers Weekly described it so: “A lighthearted memoir . . . Pomfret elucidates the eventual resolution of his spiritual crises with considerable integrity and manages to present sympathetic portraits of clergy, biting satires of church practices, and a nuanced rendering of a church and congregation considering its role in a changing world. . . . Unfailingly lively.” Set primarily in Boston during the revelations of the Scandal and the battle over same-sex marriage and gay adoptions, Confession is a funny-but-faithful account of my stalking Cardinal Sean O’Malley of the Archdiocese of Boston.  As a federal prosecutor and practicing Catholic, I was attempting to use lawyerly persuasion to change the cardinal's tune.  What I found along the way was a passionately atheist boyfriend, a host of motorcycle lesbians, gay priests, flaming friars, pious prelates, would-be Opus Dei homosexual monks, three “Hale” Marys, Harry Potter’s Satanism, and ten surefire ways to detect a fellow gay Catholic.   

            60,000 people showed up in Yankee Stadium to celebrate Mass with Pope Benedict XVI.  Tickets were in short supply.  Several sold on Ebay for more than $200.  According to newspaper reports, even those with strings to pull ended up empty-handed. 

I was one of the lucky ticketholders selected by lottery by the Archdiocese of Boston.  But I spent Sunday in the mountains close to God.

According to the Boston Globe, the Vatican announced that belief in aliens from outer space is perfectly consistent with belief in God.  Extra terrestrials, the Vatican’s chief astronomer pointed out, would still be God’s creatures:

“Ruling out the existence of aliens would be to put limits on God's creative freedom.”

The remarks came in the context of a discussion of the Church’s persecution of Galileo for heresy in connection with the scientist’s theory that the earth revolved around the sun and not vice versa.  According to the chief astronomer,

“The church has somehow recognized its mistakes.  Maybe it could have done it better . . . .”

In Sal Sapienza's 2006 novel, Seventy Times Seven, Vito Fortunato gets lots of guidance from God, but the messages do not come via the burning bush. For Vito, the voice of God is mediated variously by George Michael, Madonna (the one that is "like a virgin," not actual the Ever Virgin Herself), a queeny flight attendant who loves Saint Augustine's Confessions, Cat Stevens (a.ka. Yusif Islam), a drunken woman on the subway, Deuteronomy, and Barbara Stanwyck. From these diverse sources, the message is always consistent: Choose Life.

<o:p>