Tag Archives: New York State

My Own Personal Jesus

I am an Atheist.  I don’t believe in any supernatural deity.  I don’t believe in a god, and I don’t believe in Jesus, the son-of-a-god-who-is-really-god-too-by-some-technicality-I’ve-never-quite-grasped.  But I really like the Idea of Jesus.  In the gloominess of my Catholic upbringing, Jesus was a bright light.  Some of my earliest storybooks feature his kind, serene face and deep soulful eyes.  I loved the story of his birth in the manger (Oh how many times my poor baby brother had to be the infant Jesus to my Virgin Mary as I staged impromptu Christmas pageants!)  The “Sermon on the Mount” with its implied socialism (don’t tell Sarah and Michelle!) struck a serious chord with me early on.  Whatever else, religion might have imprinted on me, Jesus was justice and Jesus was love.

I think of him in the same way you might regard other literary characters – Jiminy Cricket, sitting on your shoulder helping you tell right from wrong, or wise Dumbledore, or Glinda, from the Wizard of Oz, explaining that you’ve had the answers all along, but that you needed to find them within yourself.  His “real-ness” has never diminished for me, what he’s supposed to stand for.  Losing my faith hasn’t robbed me of a belief that “do unto others” and the rest of what’s on his CV are pretty good ideas to live by.

And Jesus was a bit of a rebel too; getting snippy with his mom (the “didn’t you know I’d be in my father’s house?” incident when he went missing as a little boy) and trashing the money lenders at the temple for their greed and poor location choices.  He had a whole crew of guys he rolled with, but he wasn’t a snob.  He hung out with the lepers and the poor and the prostitutes.  Whatever your deal was…he was cool with it.  If Jesus lived on Long Island in the 80’s, he would definitely have worn a leather jacket.

I have a theory that adolescent Catholic girls form an early attachment to Jesus as the image of perfect manhood.  What could be more attractive to a flat-chested, bookish, twelve-year-old but to know that this gentle, handsome man knows you, and loves you for who you are?  For years, the life-sized statue of a crucified Jesus that hung above the altar at our church was the closest thing I’d seen to a naked adult male.  Despite the gore and the ashen pallor, those muscled biceps…the washboard abs…the long hair…I blame my years-long penchant for long-haired heavy-metal bad-boys on my early religious indoctrination.

Earlier this week as the vote for Marriage Equality loomed ever closer, and the arguments, on the street, in the media, and on the internet got more heated, I found myself completely swept up. The live feed from the senate was constantly playing on my computer.  I manically pressed re-dial as I called Senators over and over.  And I actually broke the Facebook app on my iPhone after five days of constant update- checking, and posting of witty and weighty answers to that eternal question, “what’s on your mind?”

And the thing that kept coming into my head, ironically enough, as religion became the defense of choice for intolerance, was “What would Jesus do?”  I mean seriously – which side would he be taking here?  Jesus was all about love, right?  He of the washing of the feet.  He who saved the life of an adulteress by insisting that the one who is without sin, cast the first stone (are you listening Archbishop Timothy Dolan?!?).  He who stuck the ear back on the Roman centurian who had come to arrest him!  I began to feel that a contingent of religious people had stolen Jesus from me and were misrepresenting him!

MY Jesus, the Jesus who occupies my secular heart would have been as ecstatic as I was when the Senate voted in favor of Marriage Equality late Friday night.  My Jesus would have voted yes for love, for commitment, for families, for security, for justice.  He would have been carrying a rainbow flag and singing in the halls of the capital all last week.  He would be at every single gay wedding, making wine from water, just like he did at Cana in the bible – and smiling.

My husband and I drove to Albany late on Friday evening to meet up with an old friend who was in town demonstrating.  We arrived just as the senate vote was made official and caught the wave of frantic reporters and jubilant spectators as they exited the capital.  Amidst horns honking and people shouting, we three walked up the street, going nowhere in particular, taking in the glorious weight of what had just happened.  We were stopped on our trek by a disheveled, middle-aged man staggering, from what was clearly the consumption of a large quantity of alcohol.  “Let ‘em do what they want to do.”  He slurred emphatically.   “I’m TELLING you… I said, this is BULLSHIT.  It’s crap.  Good Luck.  I’m not gay but who gives a shit.  That’s YOUR business.  What business is it to say you can’t do that? I’m down with it.  I’m GLAD you guys won.  I’m ALL good with that.”

MY Jesus would have shaken his hand.

Definitions of Marriage

In my home state, New York, it looks as though Marriage Equality will be coming up for a vote very soon.  I’ve been becoming more and more vocal about it (part of my aspiration to become a celebrant came from a desire to have a public role from which to advocate for marriage rights).  For sure, my support for equal rights comes from knowing, personally, many committed couples who deserve, but don’t have, the same rights I do – and from an idealistic and overdeveloped sense of justice that just can’t tolerate anything unfair (I get really steamed if the person in front of me in the supermarket has fourteen items in the “twelve items or less” line).

As a married, heterosexual woman, I have nothing personal to gain by the passage of marriage equality right?  And yet, I’ve developed a real ‘hair-trigger’ when it comes to exclusionary rhetoric about marriage.  I can just feel the bile rise in my throat when I hear someone explaining, “What God intended…” or suggesting that if gay marriage is tolerated, farm animal marriage can’t be far behind.  If I’m honest, I need to admit that my support for ‘marriage for all’ doesn’t come entirely from a place of altruism.  You see, I am a married, heterosexual woman – and one who has chosen…deliberately…not to reproduce.

I can’t remember a time when I ever wanted to be a mother.  I don’t find babies cute.  I don’t think they smell good.  I don’t want to hold yours.  My womb does not ache when I see a bright-eyed toddler smile.  There has simply never been a time when being a parent seemed like an appealing role to me.  I have been a fabulous aunt.  My friends’ children love me.  I’ve worked with school age children and teenagers most of my career and have adored them (the more gnarly the teens the better!), but my biological clock has not made one single tick.  I’ve built a life and a lifestyle that would never have accommodated children.  When I was introduced to my husband (at the age of 35), a prerequisite of the meeting was his understanding three things: that I was committed to my work and that it took a significant amount of my time; that my politics were liberal and I wasn’t shy about them; and that I was not interested in meeting anyone who thought I might be the future mother of his children.

Nonetheless, when we married three years later, nearly a dozen acquaintances made breathless off-hand comments about how I could now finally have children (as if I couldn’t possibly have figured out how before I was married if I had wanted to!)  A few others shook their heads and lamented that it had taken “too long” for George and I to find one another and we’d missed my chance (for the record, my husband is as committed to non-parenthood as I am).

So when I hear someone mention the “marriage-as-one-man-and-one-woman-because-that’s-how-you–make- babies-argument” as a justification for denying the rights of others, I feel my own marriage being called into philosophical question.  Is MY marriage any less valid because it hasn’t produced, and never intended to produce offspring?  Do other marriages lose their authority when the partners move beyond their fertile years?  Does having ones tubes tied dissolve a union?  What about if one member of a couple proves infertile?  Should later-in-life couples be prevented from walking down the aisles because no children can result?

Making and raising children is certainly an element of some marriages – but I’d defy even the most ardent reproducers to argue that marriage exists solely for that purpose.  After all, it’s been clearly demonstrated that couples of the same gender do just fine raising kids.  They just can conceive them.  I’d be willing to suggest that very few successful unions are based on the ability to unite a sperm and egg cell successfully.  The “but-they-can’t-make-babies” justification is a slippery slope.  One ought to be careful when saying things like that – ‘cause they’re talking about MY marriage here.