Love Me Like An Animal

Of all the news stories this past week--from the horrific to the absurd--the one that struck me the most was the tale of the priest who, after having denied a lesbian woman Communion at her mother's funeral, went on to compare her to an alcoholic or drug addict saying he would have taken the same action if faced with someone who was drunk or high.

I reflected on this just now under the cover of pre-dawn darkness--and a comforter that no matter how many washings seems to have sprouted a permanent coat of Retriever/Sheltie/Cocker/Shih-tzu--while snuggling with Rosie (the Shih-tzu). Her little abdomen against mine, we rose and fell on each breath, warm and comfortable together. She wasn't thinking about the unknown horrors of her prior abuses, about the painful, glaucoma-riddled eye she no longer has, about being dropped alongside a busy highway in an unfamiliar state to fend for herself. She wasn't judging my weight or my race, my politics nor who I loved just as long as I loved her. For while she may not ever be 100% whole--whatever that is--she knows that when the Shih-tzu hits the fan, I'll be there for her. Whether one-eyed or no-eyed, I will never turn my back on this sweet little girl who has managed to love humans again no matter what the race had done to her previously.

That Catholic priest could learn a lot from Rosie. He could learn that priests should give homilies, not be homophobes. He could even listen to his pal Jesus and "judge not, lest ye be judged". All the woman wanted to do was honor her mother's life and passing with the one person who means the most to her, who happens to also be a woman. She wasn't asking a favor, she was a guest in a house of worship and was sent away unceremoniously. There was no welcome, no empathy, no humanity in her treatment. She only asked to say goodbye with the moral support of her dearest one. She was honoring this parish with her acceptance and got none in return.

We've been here before: with segregation, religious persecution, suffrage--everything from wheelchair ramps to our classrooms and battlefields has been precipitated upon renouncing hate. The Statue of Liberty invites all and this Catholic church--and many churches--slam their doors shut whenever faced with someone "other", someone who presents a "challenge" not to their beliefs, but to their view of humanity. This priest on this solemn occasion certainly failed his challenge.

But lest this turn into a rant against religion, let me now spin the camera around on us progressives. For while we wear that badge with honor, we do seem hellbent at times to judge just what it means to be progressive. Maybe I'm a PINO, but I think progress is progress. If we're moving ahead, we're progressing. And like Rosie, ever little insult may never be fully addressed, but we have to be there for each other when the biggest challenges come: say, an election. The perfect cannot be the enemy of the good, and the progressive righteous should not be the enemy of the progressive realist. We must allow each other to push the cart of regression with the speed at which we are capable. The caucus doors must not slam shut, silencing any voices no matter how fervent nor muted. Not when there's so much work yet to be done.

I do not care who a person loves because it is not my business nor my concern. What is my concern is that they be allowed to love that person openly, legally, and with all the rights and respect afforded to those of us who just happen not to be lesbian, gay, bi-sexual, or transgendered. Remember, it wasn't so long ago--and is still the present moment in some quarters--when the words as the end of that sentence could've been: Jewish, black, Asian, female, handicapped, Japanese-American, Hispanic, Native American. Just where are these tracks that one can come from the wrong side of and why do they keep moving? That verdigris visionary in New York's harbor didn't qualify her invitation nor drape it in epithets. And I'm quite sure she would "non parler" the words "illegal immigrant".

But before my Cherokee great-grandmother invokes herself, let's go back to religion for an ever bigger picture. Imagine one tiny, neck-sized ring floating in the water somewhere on Earth's surface. The Buddhists say that to be born human is about as likely as for a sea turtle swimming anywhere in the Earth's vast oceans to surface right at that spot, spearing its neck through the ring. Just to be here at this time of planet Earth, of the human race is an unfathomable gift. We've gotten a lot of invitations to get this far, to be here now. We've come a long way, baby.

Seems a little silly to argue over who really deserves a political title or a seat in a chapel, doesn't it? So much of what we all are is "sameness"; we're human earthlings traveling through this one and only opportunity to be so. Sure the minutiae will crowd in and grab our attention, that's part of our job of making this trip a good one for everyone possible: To have empathy, to be gracious and welcoming.

Is it so much trouble to let a lesbian into a funeral? Rosie says she's not too sure what that priest got from his religious training, but she does know that he could really use a load of Shih-tzu.