easter basket case

Many folks know that I am a professional musician – a classically trained singer who, for the past twelve years, has been part of the worship team at a local Presbyterian Church.

This church leans towards a conservative liturgy and worship takes place in a building that is registered as a National Heritage site for Canada.  It just celebrated its 190th anniversary and the building itself is either “beautiful” if you love classic architecture or “creepy” if you’re one of the students who attends classes on Thursday evenings.

For me, the building is beautiful.  Some of the people….

This week is Holy Week in the Christian liturgical calendar.  This is the week that traverses the final week of Yeshua ben Yusuf’s life and career and sets forth the creation of the modern Christian church.

From the triumphant entry into Jerusalem on Palm Sunday, to the washing of feet, Last Supper, arrest and betrayal of Maundy Thursday, to the trial and crucifixion of Good Friday to the resurrection on Easter Sunday.  The church’s worship team is tasked with retelling the story and putting it into modern context, while guiding the congregation through complex emotions.

This is emotional work for the team.  And, for the church vocalists, tasked with embodying triumph, quiet resolve, betrayal, loss, and horror, then the witness of a miracle, quite physically and mentally taxing.

Oftentimes we hear from congregants that they don’t like attending a service because “it’s too sad” (Maundy Thursday) or “it’s too depressing” (Good Friday) but they’re fine with Palm Sunday (Hosannah!) and Easter (Rejoice!)

They are missing out on the full experience and an understanding of the story.  Even as a Pagan Humanist, I feel this way.  Heck even my husband Larry once joked, you can’t have the Easter Bunny until AFTER the crucifixion…although his words were a LOT more blunt.

Meanwhile the Minister, Organist and choir members work to embody the complex chain of events, the emotional impact and spiritual outcome and understanding of the work that must continue.  And this is why we are often exhausted after the season is done.  Because we MUST embody these elements to help guide and lead the congregation through the events – both the happy and joyous ones, and yes the difficult and painful ones.

As a singer, I task my voice to cry with joy, shout with betrayal, weep with sadness and rejoice.

And afterwards, I rest.

And the rest is even more important for myself, as I also approach this from someone who approaches these elements from a different spiritual path and a whole lot of prior spiritual baggage.  I’m just glad the current minister is progressive and has presented messages that are modern and provide a thought-provoking and up-to-date approach to the Easter story as a whole.

Blessed Be.

on grief as a traveling companion

I had a wonderful conversation with a Presbyterian Minister friend of mine where I likened my grief as a traveling companion.

My friend commented that it was a wonderful analogy that they will absolutely use in their ministry. I was touched as this person is someone whom I respect and trust – which in itself is a miracle given my past with organized religion and those who practice it.

=====

At first, grief comes as an unwelcome companion on your life’s journey. A strong personality, it often overwhelms as your paths converge for the first time.

Grief fades into the background, a peripheral, albeit ubiquitous, player in your life – but it is always present as you continue your life’s voyage.

Sometimes it stays in the background – a vague reminder of the person that was once traveling alongside you – the person whose place grief has filled.

Other times, it gets up in your business and is constantly in your way. With you tripping over it every chance it can get – if you let it.

At those times, it is best to acknowledge its presence and address it directly adjusting your course minimally so as to not let it continue to hamper your journey.

Adjusting too far to avoid it entirely will often result in a head on collision with the potential for catastrophe. It is headed in the same direction as you and trying to ignore it will only make it more insistent.

You may find it makes your ability to proceed along your path easier because having it as a reminder of the loved one that filled its place will give you strength and resolve to continue moving forward.

even in the quietest moments

After a flurry of activity during the end of May and first week of June, the past few weeks have been a time of quiet solitude, reflection and meditation.

This was partially due to my need for solitude after about 2 weeks of intense and focused extroversion and also due to the horrific air quality resulting from the smoke and ash of the late spring forest fires in Northern Ontario and Quebec.  Between my regular seasonal allergies and the heavy smoke and particulate in the air, breathing clearly was difficult and walking outside required the use of a mask to filter the air for me to be able to breathe and remain active.

With a grey day of steady rainfall this past Monday, I remarked that the rain calmed the late spring energies surrounding me.  I actually remarked that the city was so quiet… I could hear the echoes of the voices of people I love in the absence of noise.

The house seemed quiet – silent enough that the veil between the worlds of the living and the dead seemed to have thinned enough that the ancestors could be heard calling.

And I remained silent.  And I listened.  And I pondered.  

By the way – “silent” and “listen” are composed from the same constituent letters.  Let that fact settle for a moment to ponder.

And I listened for the music in my heart, the songs of my spirit enjoining the wash of the rain and the sigh of the parched land being quenched.

And I listened for the voices of Larry and Rev. Paul.  Listening with my ears, listening with my heart, listening with my soul.  Straining to hear their words, feel their love, embrace their presence.

And I embraced the melancholic state of alone-ness that only a widow(er) can embrace.  Riding the edge of love for those who have passed before it tips over into the sadness of grief.

And I sat in silence as the rain stopped, watching the sun and blue skies stream through the parting clouds.  And I savoured the waning light as the sun set.

And I listen.  

And I ponder.  

And I remain silent.

midyear missive to the man at the North Pole

Dear Santa,

It’s been a while since I’ve written, but I’ve been focusing a lot on family, work and my friends.

I’ve also been focusing on myself and how I have needed to learn to forgive and let go of the power that people who I feel have caused me harm in the past have held over me.

Supporting an aging parent who is beginning to feel the effects of time and arthritis and yes the weariness of the current times and ongoing grief.  

Supporting logical family, who are experiencing their own health concerns and facing life changing events and challenges.  

Supporting friends who are beginning to understand the effects of long-term illness and the passing of beloved family members through their grief.  

Work has been a long hard slog over the past six months, between co-workers off on long and short term leaves of absence and the brewing labour unrest between my union and my employer.

Working on resuscitating a musical career that was abandoned, for obvious reasons, in 2020 to leave space for friends who needed music to keep food on the table and roof over their heads. This includes working as a solo performer, more theatrical work and yes – even joining a community choir!

To find a place for myself in my faith community and try to understand what my continued path is to be within that community.

To finally comprehend that I am content with where I am as a hermit, tending to a sanctuary that was planted by Larry and I and one that I continue to cultivate, continuing to create a space of comfort, solace and spirit for people to rest, heal and find themselves.

To understand how all of this ties together in the grand unpredictable weirdness that my life as a musician and your helper has become.

Thank you for inspiring someone to nominate me for a City of Hamilton Arts Award – receiving recognition for the work I’ve done supporting the arts in my hometown is an honour.

Thank you for all of the people whom have been placed in my life to support me: Mom, Rev. gerry, Rev. Doug and Ben, Murray, Rev. Lizard, Douglas, Kevin, Paul, Blair, Bruce, David, Drew and David.

Thank you for all of the people who portray and support your spirit year round.

Thank you for reminding me that love can still exist in a world consumed with discord.

Thank you.

I love you.

m.

No postscript this time. I’m no longer concerned with finding someone to share my life with – what will be, will be.

joy, laughter and tears

I started writing this post while I was located in rural Minnesota, entering the second week of a retreat, the week prior spent performing my Spiritual Tradition’s Seven-Day Rites to honor the passing of Rev. Paul Beyerl.  It was a truly profound and beautiful process to say goodbye to my friend and mentor of the past nine years.  I am honored to have been asked to take part in the working of the full Ritual for the Dead and share in the support of his husband and partner, Rev. gerry Beyerl, as we all bid Rev. Paul a “thank you” and release his soul and spirit to the Universe.

The following week was a time of quiet meditation and, yes, fasting as we prepared for the year to come looking towards the future.  The retreat represented a tough and emotional two weeks’ in the year, however being surrounded by like minded individuals who challenge one to think and feel, there was no other place I wanted to be at the time.

I was with “logical family” in a time of tears, remembrance, joy and laughter. And hugs – lots and lots of hugs.

After over two years of isolation, working from home and not being able to visit with, talk to and hug the people who are important to me, the past few weeks have been a needed balm for a weary spirit.

This period of meditation, remembrance, physical labour and communal living – in true mykesworld fashion – came after an insane week in Atlanta, Georgia where I got to play with and educate clowns, Santas and other family entertainers. 

Definite opposites in levels of energies, focus and intent, but again providing me a chance to flex certain muscles and skills which had been mostly unused since 2019.

It was a fun, albeit frantic, week for me as I went from essentially two years of isolation to a full on convention surrounded by colour, zaniness and yes my anxieties over COVID, not to mention the stress of wearing an N95 in a state where even when there were mandates, masks were often frowned upon and ridiculed. 

Of course there was an outbreak at the convention (I know of 15 confirmed cases, including one hospitalization) however my wearing masks and being smart about unmasked photos, combined with being vaccinated and boosted, gave me a certain amount of protection. I have, of course, been testing since – especially as this is my traditional allergy season.

From a week of clowning around to a two week spiritual retreat which included funerary rites.  A true dichotomy – given the nature of my interests, I can’t say “two sides of the same coin”…perhaps two faces on the 20-sided die that is my life.

Blessed Be those who bring joy, laughter and cheer.

Especially in times of uncertainty and strife, they truly do the work of the Gods.

go ahead! tell me i can’t!

In the early 1990’s, as an aspiring clown, I searched the phone books to see if there were any local groups or schools that would help me along the way.

I spied an organization in the phone book that purported themselves to be “The Clown Association of Canada” so I called the number and left a message.

A few days later, I got a brusque reply from the man on the phone who called me back, saying:

“People like YOU are ruining the business for people like ME!”

And then he slammed the phone down.

Nonetheless I persisted and got an incredible amount of help from Herb Morrissey at Morrissey’s Magic in Toronto who gave me a pile of back issues of Laugh*Maker’s Magazine.

A few years later, I was living in Ottawa, working for the Canadian Federal Government and busking on street corners, using what I learned from reading those magazines and the books that I took out of the library.  My makeup skills are indebted to “Strutter’s Guide to Clown Makeup” and a lot of my early clowning skills were derived from “Creative Clowning”

As I worked through university and had access to the internet, I discovered some early online resources for clowning, including “Soda Pop’s News Letter,” “Snorkels the Clown” and “Cheesecake the Clown.”  I reached out to all of them, and Dana “Cheesecake” Montgomery remains one of my best friends to this day.  I love him like a brother and miss being able to clown around with him.

While I was working a corner at ByWard Market, I met Fizzlepop who helped me quite a bit.  I also met Hunkey Dorey from Brantford who is one of my dearest friends to this day.  I also began writing for Laugh*Maker’s magazine and am proud to have been a contributor for that magazine.

I also began a penpal friendship with David “Mr. Rainbow” Bartlett, who remains my mentor, friend and collaborator almost 30 years down this path.

Through my writings and research in 1995, I discovered Toronto Clown Alley and joined them for a few years, as well as Clowns of America International and World Clown Association.

With Mr. Rainbow, I performed and taught at a number of conventions up and down the east coast.  Leading up to my first “National” convention, teaching with Cheesecake.

During this time I wrote for Laugh*Makers, The Funny Paper, The New Calliope and Clowning Around, as well as continued my education in both American style clowning as well as working with clowns from European and First Nations cultures.

Life intervened for a while and I took a sabbatical from the funny business, eventually returning to the fold to perform at Western Regional Clown Association convention in 2012, followed by Clowns of America International in 2015.

In 2018, I was asked to be on staff at American Clown Academy.  In 2022, I was asked if I would like to be a co-director of American Clown Academy.  In 2021 and 2022, I was invited to speak at Clowns of America International’s annual conference as a solo presenter.

Not a bad run for someone who was “ruining the business.”

My goal now is to provide a gateway to new clowns that was repeatedly denied me when I was starting out 30+ years ago.

Then again, despite all of this, I still have older clowns telling me that my being accepting of “alternative” clowns like those who work at haunts, punk or anarchist clubs, burlesque shows or in adult entertainment is “ruining the business”

Judging by the size and age of the population in the international organizations, that could be true…or it could be that the gatekeeping that is preventing the younger generations from feeling welcomed in these groups…

In 2018, I was brought on staff at American Clown Academy, acting as Human Relations and camp Counselor (as in to provide counsel and support to campers experiencing difficulties over the week).  Over the ensuing three years, my role grew and evolved to the point where I was offered the position of co-director.

American Clown Academy (ACA) is a weeklong intensive residential camp whose aim is to provide educational opportunities for working entertainers to help them progress in their careers.  With a focus on performance, character development and business.  While the word “clown” is in the name, there are streams for clowns, hospital performers, eccentric performers and yes Christmas performers.

Keeping in mind that since I have been involved with ACA, there has been a solid and growing population of Christmas performers looking to enhance their abilities as performers and explore new possibilities in their depiction of the Saint from the North Pole.  The program offered as “White Beards Anonymous” is a five-day intensive residential course where people who work as holiday performers spend afternoons in a focused training program, while the mornings are spent exploring other educations opportunities including: working with a choreographer, developing a hometown business, performing in hospitals and other healthcare facilities, developing a unique character and eccentric performance.

It’s grown to the point that I’ve geared the scholarship fund left by my husband to be used for promising Christmas performers to attend ACA in order to hone and grow their skills as performers and portrayers.

That being said, when a proposal for a group where various groups that provide a formal Christmas Performer educational program to discuss schedules and timing was floated, both the director of ACA and I threw our hats into the ring as we both know how heated scheduling can be.

At the moment, there are literally groups suing one another because of scheduling conflicts – holly jolly, spirit of the season indeed.  I won’t even begin to delve into the arguments between real-bearded vs “designer” beards…

We were both told no, that ACA didn’t meet the criteria of a Christmas performance-based educational program 2 days in length or greater…hmmm….so much for offering professional courtesy…so much for trying to support an individual for whom I’ve stuck my neck out on more than one occasion.

But once again, being told “no” doesn’t piss me off – I usually take my frustration and dismay and turn it into energy to focus on being better and working hard to make things right.  The other director works the same way, so we are focused on bringing together a group of committed and dedicated students as well as a number of the best instructors the world has to offer, including a number who run their own educational programs.  This particular piece of ACA continues to grow and evolve as the Christmas performers are seeing other artists doing and asking if they can try.  While the name may have the word “clown” in it, it could easily have “Santa” or “Christmas Performers” in it as well.

Watch this blog in the next year or so to find out about my progress in my spiritual development.  However being told that I had no future in the church because I was gay…well just watch me…

So telling me I can’t do something is a surefire way of ensuring I will do my damndest to get it done – but on my own terms and in a way I am willing to live and grow with.

Thank you to everyone who told me I couldn’t.

finding my smile

The past few weeks have reminded me of how blessed I am to be surrounded by amazing people who understand and support me.  As a performer who still suffers from anxiety, having people who believe in you is an incredible asset to have, especially when your anxiety reveals itself in the form of impostor syndrome.

That being said, people who believe in me have helped push me forward beyond my usual comfortable snail’s pace and I am grateful for them.

First and foremost, thank you to David Milmine for believing in Phineus enough, to bring him along on a marquee gig to assist Santa with crowds and distribution of holiday cheer, music and, yes, candy canes.  It’s been almost a decade since I’ve done serious performance based clowning and over 7 years since I’ve been able to assist the Jolly Old Elf Himself as a helper.  When I looked in the mirror and saw Phineus looking back at me, it felt like wearing an old pair of comfortable jeans as well as breaking in new shoes.
David had faith in me, when I barely had faith in myself.  I am indebted to him for his kindness and support.

Thanks also to Susie Braithwaite of the International Village BIA for being so welcoming and open minded to something new and different for the “Shop the Village” and “Victorian Night in the Village” events.  I hope Phineus gets asked back next year as we had fun!

I managed to “find my smile” again after it had been absent several years, I missed it and it’s like having a beloved old friend back in my life.

And if any Santas want a fun loving elf to assist them.  Let’s talk!

A second thanks to Connie “The Mississippi Queen” Rouble for hosting my first Southern Supper.  I had approached her with the idea of doing a Christmas Show where I can perform some of my own music, holiday classics, while friends, supporters and family eat a delicious meal of fried chicken, biscuits, potatoes, green beans and pumpkin pie.  It was a lovely evening and again, it took me to swallow my pride, ignore that little voice in the back of my head saying that I’m not good enough and then diving head first into deep water.

My friends and family seemed to enjoy the food and they particularly enjoyed the Balderdash and Humbug holiday shenanigans that I provided during my second set.
Thank you to Amanda Pants Covill-Hyde, John Corvus and Drew Maddison of the Hamilton Pagan Pride committee for inviting me to open for their annual Krampus Pub Moot.  I once again brought out a set of comedy holiday parodies that were bookended with some suitably pagan Yuletide songs (classics from Jethro Tull and an olde English carol), the audience seemed to have fun and once again opening for Heather Dale and her band was an added bonus!  I was only sad that I had to leave early in order to get enough sleep to come to work the next day.

I’d like to thank Rev. Doug Moore and the parishioners of Laidlaw Memorial United Church for hosting the fourth installment of “No Coal in Your Stocking.”  Once again, I produced a show where local musicians could perform holiday songs for a laid back audience and have a chance to celebrate the season with other musicians.  It was a joyous occasion and we continued to increase the shared take as we passed the hat.

It’s amazing how the holiday season allows people of different faiths to gather together and celebrate light, rebirth and light.  Once again, I walk the fine line between Pagan and Christian as I explore what the month around the Winter Solstice, Yule and Christmas means to me as an entertainer and artist both through emotional and spiritual viewpoints.

another journey around the sun

This past year has been a somewhat interesting one.  I am both satisfied, yet have a sense of disappointment, often for the very same reasons…

I completed the touring cycle for table for one. and in the process recorded Foundation.  Foundation was released with some fanfare, but very little response.  I’m happy to have the “next step” clearly taken, however am honestly disappointed in the poor response to the music.  In my honest opinion, the songwriting is stronger and more concise than the predecessor, but yes, it’s far less personal.

Oh well.  Sophomore jinx, etc. etc. I guess.  I’m rethinking the whole paradigm of gathering songs and releasing them as an item.  So the next step will be a single release with one song that I’ve written and, perhaps, another b-side to be determined at a later date.

I’ve progressed with my studies in spiritual matters and expect to take my next step towards that in the fall.  I am content with where my studies are leading me and am enjoying the personal and spiritual growth that these studies are providing me.  Things are far less “urgent” feeling and I’m finding more peace in my daily living.

Throughout all of this, I’ve continued to downsize my musical needs and hone the arsenal of instruments in my collection.  I believe I have found my musical main squeeze guitar-wise and have begun paring back the collection to the bare essentials.  My main acoustic brings me joy when I play it and it does everything I ask of it and often surprises me with what it allows me to do.

My relationship with my Mom continues to progress as we both process our widowhood and grief.  Traveling to Arizona with her over the Christmas holidays brought me closure with certain episodes in my life and continued to refine what is important to me.  I found  a new peace in the desert and any angst from past visits has disappeared.

My family continues to bring me joy in new ways.  It’s refreshing to watch the remarkable young women that my nieces have grown up to be.  I am lucky to have them in my life.

I continue to explore what it means to be single at this point in my life.  While I still feel the loneliness of widowhood to be rather difficult at times, I am not as frantic to find the next life partner as once was.  What I do know is that potential friends and companions never cease to find new ways to disappoint me and that my tolerance for such shenanigans continues to disappoint.

I have much love in my heart, however I realize now that I should be more selective in who I choose to share it with.

The house continues to feel more and more like my home as I refine what I have in it and pare back what is in it.  I continue to reduce the clutter and decide what furniture will stick.  I will be downsizing in the future, but downsizing on my own terms.

Chloe continues to be a joyous, loving companion.  Every morning that I awaken to her happy face and wagging tail – is a good morning.   I am blessed.

Work is a means to an end.  I have incredible team mates and a supportive and patient manager.  They are what makes my vocation endurable, that and the fact that it funds my avocations.

I continue to heal from my PTSD, depression and my struggles with anxiety are ongoing. I am getting better at knowing when my triggers are being pushed and able to intervene before the excrement hits the ventilation – so to speak.

So this year has been a year of consolidating the changes, evaluating and then making appropriate steps towards my next goals.  It has been a year of slow, steady progress and continuing to build my foundation.

Hopefully next year will be more productive for growth.

Peace to all.

m.

 

i read the news today, oh boy

Each time I hear of a new hate crime being perpetrated in Canada or the US, it’s quite clear that the level of discontent and anger throughout all races, orientation, creeds and faiths is no longer bubbling under the lid but reaching a boiling point.

Seeing a friend’s church vandalized yesterday leaves me with a sinking feeling. The church, which practices radical inclusion, has been victim of these kinds of attacks and worse before.

Seeing Jewish graves and menorahs being desecrated with graffiti and Swastikas, leaves me frightened for my friends of that faith. Seeing a disabled man, kidnapped, beaten and tortured by four individuals and livestreamed on Facebook makes me angry that people can be so cruel and callous to another human being.

I liked to have thought we might be getting past this kind of stuff but apparently not. We will do what we have always done. Clean up the mess, carry on and continue reaching out to the world with peace and hope.

The increase in bigotry and hate crimes surfacing and coming to light is one reason why i never cottoned to the “it gets better” movement. Because actions ALWAYS speak louder than words. And clearly things are NOT getting better.

Many of the people in those videos are in them for political and personal gain. When David Sweet – the former president of an organization who published several books on Reparation Therapy and Praying the Gay Away – appeared in the video, his hypocrisy angered me.

So much so that I wrote a song about it:

“I see you on the screen telling me it’s going to get better;
that there will be a happier fate.
But as I recall, just a few years ago it was you spewing the hate.
I’d like to think you’ve turned over a new leaf
but your history and politics have me wondering
what truly caused this change of heart?

People like you
are the root of the problem.
People like you
don’t always live like you should.
People like you
are blinded by your faith.
People like you
cause more harm than good”

I’d like to think the people who spew such hatred and anger are broken. Their souls must be in great pain. I only try to prevent allowing their hatred create more hatred within myself. I can hope they will either be brought to justice or see the error of their ways. However, in truth, I know that the forces driving them are bigotry and ignorance. And for these folks I can do nothing but pity and try to forgive them.

Does it get better – so far I haven’t seen it happen in my 40+ years. However it’s not going to stop me from trying to make MY corner of the world a better place.

a tale of more than two churches

“I like your Christ, I do not like your Christians. Your Christians are so unlike your Christ.”

― Mahatma Gandhi

As I sat in work church on Christmas morning, the minister said something that horrified me more than usual during his sermon on the shepherds that visited Jesus, Mary and Joseph.

“The shepherds were not men you’d want to be around – they were ruffians, wild men and often unpleasant – not to mention the smell of unclean men who were regularly around sheep.  Elitists like myself simply would NOT want them around.  It was certainly a moment of grace that Mary and Joseph, who was a skilled tradesman, would have these people around their newborn son.”

This coming from a minister of an inner city church, that is across the street from the largest men’s and women’s shelters in a city of over half a million.

As the grandson of an Anglican Minister, baptised, confirmed and raised in the Anglican Church, I’ve had Christianity as part of my life as long as I can remember.  I’ve also struggled with my belief and faith in mainstream Christianity since my sexual abuse at age 13 by a church elder was covered up by the minister.  How can people who purport to represent G*d’s will and Jesus’ message do such harm to a young person?

My ability to support my faith was further tested when a friend who was recently ordained as a Presbyterian Minister lived with Larry and I for over 6 months while he searched for an apartment that was accessible for his wife, who was wheelchair bound after a severe stroke.  I felt that he was different, and could set aside the doctrines of his teaching and accept Larry and I as a couple, celebrating our love in peace and faith.

I helped him plant roots in the community, connected him with community leaders and organizations and after 20 years of agnosticism, joined his church and became involved in growing the congregation.

When Larry got sick, had his transplant and nearly died, I had to pull back from church activities.  During this time period, I emailed my friend multiple times, providing him information about Larry’s progress and my emotional/spiritual state.

At no point during this time period did he reply.  The only message I received from the church was that while I could not attend, they would gratefully accept my collection envelopes in the mail.  I withdrew from the church, returning the collection envelopes and any materials given to me through the mail slot.

I wrote my “friend” a letter expressing my dismay and sadness that he was unable to see through his prejudices and could not minister to me as a member of his congregation or a friend.

No reply.

Against my better judgement, a friend asked me to audition for a paid chorister at my “work church,” I was hesitant but I auditioned and found a beautiful building, an astoundingly gorgeous instrument to sing to and a choirmaster that would and has continued to challenge my abilities as a singer.

However I found a conservative church who is more focused on the building rather than the community, shoring up their class boundaries rather than preaching Jesus’ gospel and a minister whose prejudices and elitism were clearly and seemingly proudly displayed in his messages.

It is consistently clear to me that I am little more than “the hired help” at this church and, as an openly gay man, would never be accepted (this was pretty much communicated to me in those exact words by a member of their Session).  To this date, the treasurer, despite signing my monthly cheque for almost four years does not know who I am and several parishioners have actually turned their backs on me when we meet in public.

Hardly living up to Jesus’ message.

At the same time, a number of good friends are devoted Christians, who actually live up to the message and practice his teachings throughout their day to day life.  A retired minister even visits with me regularly to help me navigate my need to balance faith with empirical evidence and fact.  His being a geologist before attending the calling certainly helps.

Before Larry died, he took over the role of Santa for a local United Church, whose minister had recently lost his wife to a similar cancer that Larry had fought for the last seven years of his life.  He accepted that Larry was an openly gay man and also that Larry was Wiccan in faith without batting an eye.  He also welcomed me into the “family.”

When Larry got the terminal diagnosis, Rev. Moore was the first person to reach out and made several visits to our home.  When Larry went palliative, Rev. Moore visited me at home and also helped drive me up to the hospital, where he attended to Larry’s and my spiritual and emotional needs with care, dignity, humour and respect.

When Larry passed, it was a given that his memorial would be at Laidlaw Memorial United Church.  Larry’s Wiccan faith was welcomed and he worked with a local Wiccan Priestess and Priest to ensure that Larry’s spiritual values were included in the service.

I was happily surprised and the congregation welcomed this then shattered soul with open arms and loving hearts.  After a few services in the summer and a Christmas Eve service where I fought my desire to end my life and just sat and wept the entire time, I petitioned the church to join.

They welcomed me, even though I could only attend during the summer months and a few select services during the year.  They welcomed an openly gay community organization I was a part of, providing us a home and a venue for our performances.  They were not pretentious, welcoming and offered loving hearts to all who entered with an open heart and loving spirit.

When I sing at work church, I miss the spirit and warm nature of Laidlaw’s congregation and Rev. Moore’s guidance.  He is a friend, a spiritual rock and mentor to me.

Case in point – two services on Christmas Eve:  At Laidlaw, the pews were filled to overflowing with people in the balcony and chairs being brought up from the basement to seat the extra.  During the children’s lesson, 46 children came up to the front and Rev. Moore led them in a rousing rendition of “Jesus Our Brother, Kind and Good” (aka the Friendly Beasts).   At work church, 35 people attended, mostly not of the congregation and there were no children.

John Pavolvitz wrote:

“For far too many people, being a Christian no longer means you need to be humble or forgiving. It no longer means you need a heart to serve or bring healing. It no longer requires compassion or mercy or benevolence. It no longer requires you to turn the other cheek or to love your enemies or to take the lowest place or to love your neighbour as yourself.

It no longer requires Jesus.”

This is most represented by work church, and contrasted by Laidlaw, which is welcoming, open and accepts people for who they are, as long as they are there to share in spreading the message of peace.

During the time after Larry’s death, I began revisiting my faith and what I believed in.  At the same time, one of Larry’s mentors reached out and provided a space of solace in turbulent emotional times.  Rev. Beyerl is the founder of the Rowan Tree Church which, best explained, is an interfaith group based in traditional Wiccan values.

The Rowan Tree Church did not demand that I turn my back on my Christian upbringing, however strengthens the basic teachings and philosophies of humbleness, peace, living simply and being attuned to the planet around us – protecting it and loving it as an aspect of the divine.

The minister who lived with Larry and I, found this troubling and decided to “disown” as a friend and exited my life without a single word.  When I discovered this, I pressed him on what happened and he confirmed that he found my writings troubling and in disconnect with his Christian faith.  He suggested I change and stop this path or risk losing him forever.  I still love Rev. Dickson, I have been able to forgive him as his actions are products of his upbringing and teachings.  I will welcome him with open arms and a wary heart if he chooses to enter my life again.

Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice shame on me.

Rev. Dickson and several other friends were devoted members of a church, who invited them to join the ranks of the clergy.  That is, until other factors became problematic for this church.  Oddly enough, this church welcomed the devoted members with open arms, until loved ones became ill, requiring long-term care and attention.

In all of these cases, these potential clergy were told to turn their backs, institutionalize or leave the loved ones behind in order to pursue the path of the clergy.  A choice that thankfully none of them were willing to make.  Being told that you are welcome but your infirm family members would not be was too much for these individuals.

How they remain faithful after such treatment is testament to their belief in the message.  They have all moved on and pursue their ministry elsewhere.

As have I.

My work with the Rowan Tree Church does not demand that I turn my back on my Christian upbringing, however strengthens it with asking me to explore other faiths as both an intellectual and philosophical manner.  It asks me to examine my faith and my actions in that faith as a denizen of this planet and also an aspect of the divine spirit – as we ALL were crafted in the image of the divine, regardless of religion, sexuality, gender or skin colour.

My work with Laidlaw United Church does not demand that I turn my back on my spiritual explorations and studies in the Rowan Tree Church, as those studies have moved me closer to the direction of Rev. Moore and the church’s mission statement – in acceptance, faith and welcoming all.  I was considering studying towards my M. Div as a United Church, however the divinity schools are now filled with politicians and administrators and do not seem concerned in turning out preachers and ministers.

I am not a religious man, but I am a man of faith.  I have faith that I will follow the lessons of Yeshua ben Joseph AND the other prophets, priests and ascended souls whom we all should listen to and learn from.  I have faith that simple living and good deeds will be rewarded, not by the promise of paradise after I die, but of the knowledge that I have lived simply and done my best to spread peace and love in the world.  I have faith that a pretty building and opulent spending does not indicate that a person is better than any other, when an ugly heart is concealed within.

I have faith that there are good Christians out there, there are good Muslims, Jews, Wiccans, Pagans, Buddhists.  Being a good person is not based out of one’s beliefs in scriptures from a  book, but out of one’s actions towards others.

Peace.  Blessed be.  Amen.