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Channel: Joseph Sciambra: How Our Lord Jesus Christ Saved Me From Homosexuality, Pornography, and the Occult
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The Ghosts of Castro Street 

August 2, 2014, 6:49 pm
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Whenever I return to the gay enclave of the Castro District in San Francisco, my mind is immediately flooded with memories of old friends who are long since dead. Many years ago, when I was an 18 year old boy, I walked into the neighborhood as a somewhat starry-eyed dreamer thinking that my gay porn fantasies and childhood recollections of The Village People were about to come true. While I did see my share of beautiful men who looked like living versions of the drawings done by Tom of Finland, I also saw a good number of walking corpses, with blotchy skin and sunken faces, who were simply biding their time until the AIDS virus coursing through their veins finally took them down for good. Now, I have returned to offer my gay brothers and sisters another way of life: a chance at happiness and redemption with Jesus Christ. But, sometimes, I see shadows, little sparks of remembrance, and bits of memory floating through the air: and, I almost see one of my old friends, Andy (inset picture above), Scott, and even Nick, fleeting glimpses of them walking around the corner. I turn suddenly, and then realize that no one is there. Right away, I remember that they are gone. Yet, I can still see them clearly and it seems like just yesterday, not over 20 years, since they have been missing. Frequently, when I think of them, I can’t stop crying. But, on those same streets, that we once walked together, they call out to me: “No more…” “Now more blood will be pointlessly spilled.” “No more…”




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Why A Gay Porn Star Became Catholic; And Why I am Staying in the Church

August 4, 2014, 10:40 am
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In porn, my face was distorted into one resembling a little demon.
“Tell sinners that no one shall escape My Hand; if they run away from My Merciful Heart, they will fall into My Just Hands. Tell sinners that I am always waiting for them, that I listen intently to the beating of their heart... when will it beat for Me?”
...Freedom.
Although I had been raised marginally Catholic, I never really considered myself a believer. As a child, I was rather innocent and understood nothing. By the time I was in my teens, my parents forced me to be Confirmed. I stood in front of the Bishop, got the blessing and anointing, but didn’t believe for a single second. When I went into the gay world, I thought of my residual Catholicism as something that needed to be overcome. And, like most of my compatriots, who were also former Catholics, because our matriculation in the Faith had been mediocre to downright heretical, it was not that tough to accomplish. That sloughing off of all that I had never really known or understood left me open to all sorts evil influences that seemed to temporarily fill my innate lonely sense of emptiness. 
After that, although I never realized it until the end, my entire life became increasingly desperate. While I falsely thought that I was just exploring my new found freedoms and sexuality, I was actually in a perpetual state of restlessness: always exhaustingly alert and questing for the next big opportunity: from an endless parade of guys to gay porn - it never materialized. Wanting something to hold onto, I turned to the occult - and was again left cold and empty. I was deaf, yet God was calling me. Only, because I had become filled with evil and hate, I misinterpreted this beckoning as a plea to further degrade myself. In an instinctive way, I was punishing myself, because I knew that everything was out of control and because I was powerless before my seemingly uncontrollable passions. 
When I suddenly realized that my endless experimentation was leading me to a premature death, I knew that I had to quickly make a decision to change or stay where I was and die. At those final minutes, the Lord Jesus Christ made things very clear to this stubborn and willful little speck of dust: He held out His hands, one restrained the demons that had been chasing me for years, the other was palm out and bursting with His precious blood. I didn’t know why, but I reached out for the wounded hand. Instantaneously, the demons were gone. For the next few days, I laid in bed: asking God over and over gain to forgive me. Every gross and disgusting thing I had ever done kept replaying in my head; the bed became like the floor of hell. I had to unburden myself, but I didn’t know where to go. 
Unconsciously, I turned to The Bible. Flipping feverishly through the pages; the whole book could have been written in some space alien language; I understood not a single word. Mysteriously, leaping off the onion skin paper was the beautiful scene of St. Mary Magdalene being forgiven and released from the constant torture of seven devils. I needed Jesus; where was He? How could I find Him? Then, two incidents in The New Testament struck me: the Roman Centurion going to Christ, begging Him cure his servant; “Lord, I am not worthy that thou shouldst enter under my roof: but only say the word, and my servant shall be healed;” and the other Centurion, Cornelius, who told St. Peter: “Four days ago, unto this hour, I was praying in my house, at the ninth hour, and behold a man stood before me in white apparel, and said: Cornelius, thy prayer is heard, and thy alms are had in remembrance in the sight of God.” This all brought back the most vivid memories that I had of Jesus, the VHS tapes of 1950s Biblical epics that my father bought and showed us as kids: especially my favorite, “The Robe,” about a Roman solider who is the self-declared king of orgies, later crucifies Christ, then begs forgiveness from the man who denied Him three times. I longed to go to Peter.  
Then, I could have gone anywhere. For, after a second-rate education in the Faith, and since being away formally for over a decade, my ties to Roman Catholicism were weak at best. But, I remembered the Sacrament of Confession; I probably hadn’t been since being forced to go back in the 8th grade, right before our graduation. Growing up, I had always thought of it as a thoroughly stupid practice: kneeling before some man behind a screen and telling him my sins. I didn’t believe in sin. As far as I was concerned: porn, masturbation, pre-marital sex, homosexuality, and even drug use were far from wrong - they had merely been deemed wicked by angry eunuchs who wanted to keep the rest of us from having any fun. Well, all these years later, I realized: I was so wrong. Even though I was emotionally and physically sick, I wanted to crawl back to that little box and confess. I needed my AA moment: to stand up before God and say out loud what I had done and that I was sorry. 
Somehow, I tracked down a priest I had met in my late-teens, who struck me as particularly pious, and I dropped my sins on him like a ton of rotting garbage. I hated carrying it around and just wanted God to have it. Here, take it, take it - I thought to myself. It felt amazing. The priest was rather unphased and coolly certain - sort of like that image of Jesus I saw on my deathbed. He said, I needed to go back to Mass. Idiotically, I was somewhat surprised. Oh yeah, Mass - I forgot about that, I mused. While the seeming magic of Confession drew me back, the Mass still felt useless and mundane. I hated going to Mass as a boy: whether being marched there by our teachers, or dragged out of bed and pushed out the door on Sunday by my parents - going to church was drag. Blessedly, the same kind priest who heard my Confession invited me to the Latin Mass. Latin, that was the language the nerdy kids studied in high school, I thought. With nothing to loose, I showed up. Now, everything was different from my memories of youth. There was silence, reverence, and humility. I kneeled and could not get back up. I bowed and just stayed there. Jesus was back. He was there. His hands in front of me. His body became the Eucharist; and His blood in the chalice. I quivered and thought I was in front of His throne. When it was time to receive the Lord, I didn’t want to walk to the altar, but would have preferred groveling up the aisle on my stomach. I looked at everyone else proceeding towards the priest; I didn’t want to go. Inexplicably, I rose, and took the host on my tongue. What had just happened? I thought for sure I would die - as the Lord could only strike someone like me down. But, He didn’t. I lived. I lived. I was alive. Jesus saved me. And, He wanted me. For the first time in my life: I believed in Him. The insolent and gullible little boy who threw it all away got a second chance. I no longer felt alone anymore. 
I will never leave the Catholic Church. For, to do so, I would be returning to the same empty existence of despair and desolation that almost cost me the eternity of my soul. Because, only death persistently awaits in my old life; and I choose to live. 

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How a Man Who Had Been Away for Nearly Two Decades, and Broke Nine of the Ten Commandments, Returned to Confession

August 5, 2014, 2:32 pm
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“Is anyone among you sick? Let them call the elders of the church to pray over them and anoint them with oil in the name of the Lord. And the prayer offered in faith will make the sick person well; the Lord will raise them up. If they have sinned, they will be forgiven. Therefore confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed. The prayer of a righteous person is powerful and effective.” (James 5: 14-16)

When Satan was finally done with me, and after he tried to pull my soul to hell, Christ took pity on the wretch I was and reached out His Loving hands; afterwards, I knew right away that I had to do something; But what? The answer was simple: I needed to be forgiven for all I had done. For the next few days, after my near brush with death, I laid in bed going over it all in my head: most of the stuff I had done I couldn’t remember. Informally, I just kind of asked God’s forgiveness as I went along. This half hazard approach left me wondering and wholly unsatisfied. I wanted to feel, hear, and know for sure that Jesus forgave me. There, beaten and battered, I experienced a singular sort of desolation and loneliness. God felt distant and remote. I began to think of myself as the woman with the hemorrhage, straining to reach out and touch the hem of Christ’s garment; If I could only touch Him I thought.
Not knowing where to go or who to turn to, I went to church; I didn’t know what I was going to do there or what would happen, but it felt like a place of refuge; this always reminds of the penultimate scene in the classic sci-fi movie “War of the Worlds,” when the city of Los Angeles is empty and falling into destruction, but all the churches are filled with the lost and hopeless seeking shelter. That was me, wayward and wandering, but hopeful. While in the church, I remembered from my youth the Sacrament of Penance. I thought, perhaps there I could find protection and hear the voice of Christ offering His forgiveness. Then, like the image of a faded photograph, a memory came forth of a courageous and kindly priest I had known many years before. It had been so long since I had seen him, perhaps, I thought, he was still in the midst of battle and even now fighting for the Lord. Blessedly, I tracked him down and made an appointment.
The first thing I noticed was the priest had gotten older of course, a bit more hunched over, yet still solidly alert. He looked like a returning soldier from a war, somewhat battle weary, but surer of himself and his abilities. Taking a cue from our phone conversation, he took me immediately into the Confessional. Beforehand, I had written down everything on a little piece of paper. About fifteen or so sins; I had done a little study in “The Catechism of the Catholic Church” and knew positively that I had broken nine of the Ten Commandments; even though I was not sure about “Thou shall not kill,” as I had once overheard a conversation referring to a possible snuff film and did nothing about it. During the Confession, I was so ashamed that I tended to be overly general which elicited some questions from the priest. Overall, it was done rather quickly, and he absolved me.
Walking out, I thought to myself: I was free. It was so amazing, it didn’t sink in. Then, Satan began to put doubts into my head: You are too fallen to be forgiven; You will always be filthy; God didn’t forgive you; You have been deceived; God has tricked you. In general, I believed these lies. For months, I was burdened. My life became my past; and my past was my sins. I became that thing that was ugly. Yet, longingly, I always wanted Christ; I yearned for Him so deeply that it caused me much pain. Only, pride kept bringing me back to myself: Jesus could not love me. Somehow, God gave me the strength: I kept going to Confession, I went to Mass, and I prayed. Unlike in my old life, I fostered an extremely solitary existence: I cut old friends and lovers off, didn’t watch TV, go to films, or listen to music; I read spiritual works and spent much time in contemplation – often reading the Psalms, which would make me weep endlessly. Then, slowly, the Lord softened the hardness of my heart and the mistrust fell away. Lastly, a devout priest prayed over me and I was delivered from the demons of doubt and suspicion. That which began in the Confession, my absolution, grew into the Love I had for Christ. Then, I could hear the words of Christ – and I could believe them.

*Some suggestions for those Catholics returning to the Sacrament of Penance after years of being away; especially for those involved in homosexuality and other sexual sins:

Urgency is good, if you have not gone for a long time, and want to go to Confession, go right away; don’t put it off.

Therefore as quickly as possible, do the following:
Ask Catholic relatives and friends to suggest a Catholic priest that could be your confessor; if you are in the gay lifestyle, I suggest going to a priest that is associated with the Courage apostolate.

Spend some time in recollection and prayer; ask for strength and courage; review the Ten Commandments; read some Scripture, in particular Matthew 10:40, Luke 10:16, and Luke 24: 45-49.

If possible, make a private appointment with a priest, therefore you may feel less nervous than if you stand in a confessional line; you may also feel less constrained by time if you make a private appointment.

The tendency of some who have been away from the Sacrament, or been involved in sexual sins, is be evasive or, conversely, over descriptive when recounting sins. Instead, simply say what you did; for example, I had sexual intercourse with a man; or I had sexual intercourse with a married woman; do not give details such as anal or oral sex. A priest has never asked me to be more descriptive; he may ask about your marital status, the marital status of the person you were involved with, or the frequency of the sin. 

Try not to be anxious or embarrassed. The priest is simply the conduit to Christ. As in the early Church, he is God’s instrument; for this reason, I always prefer to confess my sins behind the screen; not in the more modern face to face fashion. In reality, you are confessing these sins to Christ, not to the priest. For, through Our Lord, the priest has been given the power to heal and to bestow the forgiveness of God. Therefore, as we are approaching God Himself, pride has no place in the Confessional; come forward with humility; crawl to the Lord, and He will raise you up and take you in His arms.

Also, try to memorize the Act of Contrition or bring a holy card imprinted with the prayer.

Lastly, put you Faith and Trust in Our Lord Jesus Christ. If you earnestly desire His forgiveness, He will forgive you.




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LA Porn Plummets: Porn-Pushers Flee to San Francisco and Las Vegas

August 6, 2014, 9:28 am
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The Los Angeles Times reports that 40 permits for adult productions were issued across the city and county last year, a 90% drop from 2012 when the measure was passed. The law, called Measure B, was pushed by HIV/AIDS activists arguing it would prevent disease outbreaks. Only 20 permits have been issued so far this year as of July. Porn crews are now mostly traveling to Las Vegas, San Francisco, Miami, and Eastern Europe in order to film under less restrictive conditions. In San Francisco, porn power-house Kink.com continues to reign from its multi-million dollar Armory Building headquarters, and is still the home to the biggest gay porn companies in the world: Colt, Falcon, and Treasure Island Studios. Regardless, the San Francisco based porn-pushers have recently come under pressure from Cal/OSHA (California Occupational Safety and Health Administration): Kink.com was fined $78,000 for maintaining dangerous workplace conditions, among them allowing performers to have sex on camera without using condoms; Treasure Island was fined $9,000 for a similar citation. In reality, to these multi-million profiting companies, these fines are practically meaningless. Yet, according to Kink.com owner Peter Acworth, regarding reports that the company may leave San Francisco: “I would still think of Kink.com production moving out as a question of if as opposed to when,” he wrote to us in an email. “If the various regulations that are being considered currently in Sacramento and by Cal-OSHA become law, we will likely have to move production out of California to Nevada.” The regulations he’s referring to are a statewide version of the recent Los Angeles condom law, AB 1576, as well as new Occupational Safety and Health Administration standards legally requiring porn actors wear protective goggles to protect their eyes from STDs that may be present in ejaculate. In San Francisco, particularly where the gay community is involved, these laws will inevitably prove moot: at both the Dore Alley Fair and the Folsom Street Fair, including the more secular Gay Pride Parade, all sorts of public sex acts, including water-sports, can be viewed as well as electronically recorded. As for myself, back in the mid-1990s, I participated in a shoot at the Folsom Fair that took place inside the cramped quarters of a portable toilet. Recently, I returned to many of these venues, to offer Christian outreach, and have found that very little has changed. 

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Gay Porn Again Preys on the Insecurities of Homosexual Men and Boys

August 6, 2014, 12:10 pm
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In an earlier blog, (see http://www.josephsciambra.com/2013/03/gay-porn-unwittingly-reveals-cause-of.html) I extensively covered the long history of daddy eroticization in gay pornography; i.e. the incessant tableau of the older male (oftentimes in the guise of the biological father) seducing the younger man. For young adult gay men, these films represent the materialization of a fantasy: the healing of a childhood breach between father and son. In the pornography, this father-wound is resolved through sex; usually by the older male anally penetrating the younger man. Except, the dangers are very real.
One recent study found that intergenerational sex encounters among gay men: “can potentially expose young men who are just exploring their sexuality to older men who may be living with HIV infection.” An earlier study conducted in San Francisco is more specific: “older gay men (because of their higher seroprevelance [the number of people testing HIV+] levels) have been (and continue to be) and important source of HIV infection for younger men.” Therefore, these daddy films are horrifically dangerous to the boys watching them: as they misleadingly offer-up a solution to their gender identity disorder. For, in the gay lifestyle, there are many older men waiting to initiate young newbies and twinks into the world of homosexual sex. And, they could end-up dead. Significantly, and it’s no coincidence: New HIV diagnoses among gay and bisexual men between the ages of 13 and 24 increased by a staggering 132.5 percent between 2001 and 2011, according to a new report from the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.

Links to studies:
http://www.publichealthreports.org/issueopen.cfm?articleID=2346
http://www.semel.ucla.edu/sites/all/files/biomedicalmodeling/pdf/hivtrans.pdf



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Cancel Your Reservations: Marriott Hotels Goes Gay in a Big Way

August 7, 2014, 9:23 am
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This is political and social propaganda at its worst and can only be compared to those examples produced under Nazi Germany, i.e. shamelessly using children to illicit a purely emotional response from the viewer. Most disturbingly, with the photograph of the two men, this type of homoerotic iconography also has its roots in Nazi Germany: which perfected the use of sexualized male bonding as a brain-washing tool. In gay culture, there is a direct line of descent adopting Nazi imagery through Tom of Finland down to modern advertising. 





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Madonna, American Apparel, and the Return of Lesbian Porn Chic

August 7, 2014, 11:38 am
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Released in 1990, the music video for Madonna’s song “Justify My Love” exploded onto the pop-culture scene as nothing before. Because of its overtly explicit imagery involving male and female homosexuality, MTV made the unprecedented move to ban the video from its programming. This only caused the video to rise in importance and the VHS-single sold out everywhere. In addition, Madonna cast her then boyfriend Tony Ward, who had previously been known mainly as a fashion model and sometime gay porn actor in naked solo films, in the video. This decision was groundbreaking as it marked a major cultural blending of what was considered conventional and pornographic. At the same time, Madonna made a point to openly cavort in front of the paparazzi with out-lesbian actress Sandra Bernhard. In particular, the gay community was the most heavily impacted by the controversy. For, it pushed ahead the main-stream acceptance of both gay culture and homoerotic iconography. Without it, “I Kissed a Girl” by Katy Perry would have been impossible. Now, under-age looking teen girls strike a lesbo-chic pose for white middle-class clothing brand American Apparel. 







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Former Porn "It Girl" Claims She Was Forced Into X-Rated Films

August 8, 2014, 9:08 am
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Cross-over porn star and “it-girl” of the mid-00s Sasha Grey has revealed that she was forced into pornography. Born in 1988, Grey moved to Los Angeles and began appearing in adult films just after turning 18. Then, Grey would often wax philosophically about her involvement with porn: “I am a pervert,” she said. “If I am working out any issues through porn, it’s anger at society for not being open about sex.” For awhile, it seemed that main-stream success lied ahead as she got big fashion modeling jobs with Max Azria and American Apparel; including some important roles in major non-porn films. Sasha Grey now says she was lured into porn by a violent and abusive ex-boyfriend who convinced her he was a military spy who needed her for “cover” and she fears he's come back to hurt her. Grey claims in new court documents Ian Cinnamon subjected Grey to years of abuse and sexual assaults starting in 2005 when she was 16 and he was 29.




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So Cal Porn Permit Plunge: Yet the Cameras Roll On

August 9, 2014, 9:15 am
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19 and looking bored before a late-night Buena-Vista Park (SF) shoot.
Since 2012, when Los Angeles voters passed a mandate requiring the use of condoms on all porn sets, permits for X-rated shoots have dropped dramatically. So where is porn currently being filmed? “A lot are simply shooting in out-of-the-way places where they won't be caught,” says Mark Kernes, senior editor at Adult Video News, which tracks industry trends. “Normally it's in people's homes who are willing to rent them out for a day. Sometimes it's out in the woods. There are vacation cabins far away from anything that you can shoot a movie at.”
During my ten year involvement in the porn industry, except for one time in Los Angeles, I was never once on a legitimate porn set. Gay porn videos were almost always shot in motels, private homes, and or apartments in San Francisco or Guerneville. Other times, the set ups and filming were rather haphazard at such public locals as the San Francisco Gay Pride Parade, the Dore Alley Fair, or in Dolores Park. From what I understood, according to a few conversations I had in the late-90s with an over-the-hill Golden Age female porn star, that even in more progressive LA, porn shoots were then a nefarious affair: casts and crews meeting at clandestine locations, throwing the cameras and lights together, quickly filming, and then making a hurried get-away. But, like then, the demand was high, so the porn-pushers found a way. Perversity knows no limits. Just as in the illicit drug trade, laws will have very little effect; until the minds and hearts of the users are opened to the healing power of Jesus Christ. He is the only answer.   


  
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Be Sheltered Under the Cloak of Saint Joseph

August 9, 2014, 2:15 pm
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“Now Israel loved Joseph above all his sons, because he had him in his old age: and he made him a coat of diverse colors. And his brethren seeing that he was loved by his father, more than all his sons, hated him, and could not speak peaceably to him.” (Genesis 37: 3-4)

“And he said to them: Go to Joseph: and do all that he shall say to you.” (Genesis 41: 55)

When I was once a completely lost soul, newly vomited forth from the twin bovine guts of porn and homosexuality, I felt like I had nowhere to turn: Jesus just seemed big, mighty, and distant; Our Lady, she looked so very high above me, so pure, and unapproachable. Then, for some strange reason, my namesake came to me: the forgotten St. Joseph. He was a supremely masculine, but gentle and quiet presence around me. Suddenly, he just threw a large brown wool cloak over me. It was warm and safe, and he constantly kept watch as lied there and rested. I healed under that mantle. Later, I realized what a Grace I was accorded: to be under the same piece of cloth which sheltered the Blessed Mother during the long march to Bethlehem and protected the infant Jesus as the Holy Family made their way into Egypt.
Joseph is waiting to cover you as well. Therefore, if you are seeking the Love of Jesus Christ, and believing yourself unworthy, “Go to Joseph.” For, he is the humble servant of the God made Man. And, just as he protected and guarded over the doorway to the little house in Nazareth, he escort you inside, and ultimately bring you to the table of Jesus and Mary. 



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How the Devil Imprisoned Me in Gay Porn for 10 Years 

August 11, 2014, 9:39 am
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“The demons know what happens outwardly among men…” ~ St. Thomas Aquinas 

“Whatever exists and happens in the world can be observed by the Devil, although he may not pay attention to all of it. What he has observed, however, the Devil is able to impart without delay…The Devil can observe in greater depth. He knows mankind by long experience, can anticipate more easily how men and woman are likely to act under normal conditions, and how he may be able to influence them most effectively.” ~ Fr. Adolf Rodewyk 

“…a demon can be at our side for a very long time, analyzing us and coming to know our particular weaknesses. He will then seek to tempt us at our weakest point.” ~ Fr. Jose Antonio Fortea 

At age 19, when I walked for the first time through the Castro District of San Francisco, I had no idea what I was getting into. To that point, I had been a boy drunk on porn: it was my vice, my escape, my reward. I lived in a fantasy that I thought was about to become real. At first, nothing was as I imagined it would be: the X-rated video stores were dirty and stunk, the strip clubs were dark, and the bathhouses heavily populated with a mix of the diseased and the aged. But, I stuck with it and forged ahead. For, it was all I had to go on. After staring at pornography for ten odd years – I was a thoroughly confused man. Everything and nothing excited me. Women I found increasingly conventional. I actually no longer needed porn where they were concerned: I could simply watch MTV or open a “Sports Illustrated” Swimsuit Issue. Men, on the other hand, represented the sexual unknown; even the scourge of AIDS heightened the sense of danger and the forbidden.
In the late-1980s, gay porn was far from easily accessible. Convenience or liquor stores might sell Playboy and Penthouse, but certainly not anything explicitly for the homosexual taste. Therefore, to satisfy my wander lust for something unseen, I delved into the seamier world of adult theaters and bookstores. At one such place, I was quickly set upon by an older man who seemed to materialize out of the black emptiness. With porn playing on large screens in the background, I indecisively gave in. Afterwards, I was strangely resolute. I enjoyed it, but also felt like I had been finally initiated. An overwhelming impression of inescapable destiny came over me. I had discovered who I was. Yet, deep down, I still felt a little shame. Like I had weakly given in to something. Almost immediately, a conversation started inside my mind; with whom I had no idea. The voice was a command, marking a silent demarcation between what I had been and what I was now. I was gay! There was no escaping it. The questioning and searching was over.
Strangely enough, this realization of who I was turned out to be something like an enslavement to an invisible force. It felt neither free nor liberating. It was a strange sort of sensation: like being propelled constantly forward with no visible mechanism to stop. Perhaps, it was uncomfortable at first, later I got used to it. Afterwards, at a rapid pace, I was with one man after another; experienced one bizarre sex scene after another. Then, the once putrid smelling gay sex dungeons became my home. I thought I had found a refuge; a home. Because, always ringing through my brain was the voice which said: I belonged here. But did I?
Ever since I was a boy sneaking peeks at my brother’s porn magazines, or as a teenager steeling looks inside a Penthouse at the 7-11, I always had this peculiar sensation as if I were being watched. It was a horrible kind of hyper-paranoia: someone is going to catch me looking at this dirty magazine. Even at my friend’s house, when his mom was away on an errand, and I rejected the plentiful amounts of candy and reruns of “Batman” in favor of delving into the porn locker his dad kept in the spare room. It called me. The horde was massive, I quickly skimmed through them all to find the ones I liked. Little did I know, but I was being keenly observed. The forces of hell had been collecting and gathering information on me for years. By the time I was an adult, the devil’s dossier on Joseph Sciambra was pretty thick; he knew what turned me on, what I didn’t like, and what scared me. So, for a while, much of what I sexually desired was fulfilled in the gay lifestyle. Only, it was starting to take its toll on me. I was burned out: with one disease after another, one heart ache followed another; and friends began to drop away into pitiless death holes. Unconsciously, I wanted out. But, I had nowhere to go.
What the devil knew about me was a lot; and he kept me under his hoof because he used that knowledge against me: telling me the gay world was the only place on Earth were I would be welcomed and loved; that I could be happy nowhere else; that I had done too much to be accepted anywhere else; everyone outside would reject me; being gay was who I was. I believed him. And, I staid; even to the point of death.
When hell seemed a certainty, I was given another chance: the Lord Jesus Christ materialized in front of my emergency room bed and offered me His hand – and I took it. He gave me back my life; and He gave me back my identity: as a child of God. 




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What Homosexuals Want From God

August 12, 2014, 1:46 pm
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Lancelot at the Chapel of the Holy Grail, Edward Burne-Jones: 1896.
When I entered the gay lifestyle, I was not only looking for camaraderie, a community to call my own, and ultimately love, but also a religion. The Catholicism that I had grown up alongside: flower-power Jesus with touches of social justice, the human potential movement, and Liberation Theology, left we supremely uninterested. I was a boy longing for solidarity, doctrinalism, and ultimate masculinity; and that I suredly found in gay culture. For example, in the gay world, especially among men, there was a strange sort of inner bonding that took place, only through sex, that led to a superficial order of knowing, but that eventually collapsed into a vicious “Lord of the Flies” mentality; the adherence to social and political thought was rigorously and uniformly enforced; and the masculine male was the pinnacle of the all-seeing god; for, even the high priests of drag and twinkish effeminacy always bowed down before the manliness of the alpha-male.
This pseudo-religion temporarily soothed our pains and elevated a bit of the loneliness and alienation that we had all experienced as boys. But, as with all that is solely material, the sexually focused spirituality of gay-dom is continually fleeting and transitory. I unknowingly discovered this during my initial few days in The Castro. Amidst one of my first, but many, visits to the local sex-clubs and bathhouses, I noticed that the older and less attractive men were often huddled together into little groups of outcasts; constantly relegated to abusing each other rather than mixing with the younger and more desirable. At all times, they seemed much further away from the gay supreme being; as for myself: I was 19 years old, thin, rather new, and heatedly worshipped. It felt good to be praised. Like everyone else in my company, I looked down on the slobbering trolls and proudly thought I would never be one of them.
As an initiate, I found the gay gods rather generous: I finally felt a part of the in-crowd, after spending years as a lonely teenager and forever existing on the outside; I belonged to a larger faith community that believed the things I did and collectively kept in front of the them the possible rising dawn of a brighter future for all gays; and, most importantly, the masculine love that I had eternally longed for  - I got; most often from older men who wanted to spoil me in order to receive sex. Only, I was a hot-commodity for a short time. The hard living, diseases, and neglect took its toll, and by my mid-20s I was quickly sliding from Olympus. There was a fresher and lovelier crop of deities on the horizon and I was now lower on the caste system. It seemed that the gay gods had abandoned me; so, I went looking elsewhere: mainly into the occult. Yet, even inside that pit of mystery and smoke, I still longed for the loving embrace of the Father. This image, because of my warped mind, I still associated with the perfect male awaiting me just inside the gay world. I looked, but I never saw him.
Even on my death bed, these illusions were strong within me. I turned from Christ, in the barely audible whispering prayers of my sorrowing mother seated at the end of the hospital bed. But, when I realized that everything else was emptiness everlasting, I knew that the Lord Jesus Christ was my true Father. That He was the Man I had always searched for and never found amongst the porn-shops and orgies of San Francisco. I didn’t need an Earthy caress to heal me, but only His all-encompassing embrace.

Note: It is often horrendously difficult, if not impossible, for many homosexual men to leave the gay world and mind-set because their entire being is wrapped up in the lifestyle; the severity of this attachment is often determined by the age of the person when they accepted the homosexual orientation. I was 19, and the majority of my friends were all in their late-teens or early-twenties; we were guided by one overwhelming thought: the quest for male love. Because this emotion was so prevalent from childhood, we couldn’t explain its origins. After all, it was something we were born with; so, it didn’t matter anyway. Yet, this rush to masculinity is all consuming: affecting the everyday life of gay men – from the way they dress to the films they watch. It even hits God; and reforms Him as a manic and restless Father-figure who endlessly morphs into different men; the Holy Grail that is perpetually just beyond reach. That other god, the Jesus of the Catholic Church and similar bigoted Christians, he was the Man they invented: unloving, judgmental, and condemning; unconsciously, that Jesus represents the father who never loved us as a kid. So, we go looking for a new one. Ultimately, it’s a pursuit that is tragic and doomed to failure. For, that false god never gives us what we want or what we need; it just takes until there is nothing left.

Author’s note to image: When I was in the gay lifestyle, I was obsessed with anything related to the Holy Grail: even to the extent of having the grail image tattooed to my body. Now, I understand. The grail represented the constant questing within gay male culture; For, I was always looking, but couldn’t figure out what I was searching for. Yet, in fact, what I wanted the whole time – was God.



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Why Is There So Much Porn in Gay Culture?

August 13, 2014, 12:58 pm
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One of the many porn-plastered store fronts in the Castro.
Everything nowadays seems to be saturated in a new form of porn-chic: from Abercrombie and Fitch advertisements to Kim Kardashian and a daily slew of music videos. Pornography is no longer something relegated to the sleazy red light district or the dirty book shop. This normalization has been a fairly slow process, starting in the 1960s with the abandonment of the Hayes Code and the success of porn’s so-called Golden Age in the 70s; this all went into hyper-speed with the advent of the internet: as porn was beamed unfiltered straight into American homes. On the contrary, in gay culture, porn has always been a cohesive glue that binds the community together. For most homosexual men, seeing gay porn for the first time was a defining moment.
For many a lonely and confused same-sex attracted boy, gay porn was their lone realization that there were others out there who felt as they did. Whether on television or through the internet, for the sexual explorer, gay porn can be a revelation: that one is not alone and that the thoughts and desires going on inside the brain are worthy of expression; and, in the fantasy world of porn, those who express these desires are noble and beautiful. For me, it was the handsome, healthy, and sun-kissed Casey Donovan – who died of AIDS at age 43. Gay porn, not unlike heterosexual porn, represents the manufactured ideal: glorious sex with no physical or psychological consequences; to the young and ignorant it’s a magnificent lie that holds eternal expectation; for the older and fatigued, it’s a nostalgic promise of what never was. As a little boy, I believed it all; especially during the era of pre-AIDS hedonism; as a teenager, knowing only what I saw in gay porn – I headed to the Castro.
Some of the very first landmark gay legal cases involved controversies revolving about the authority of gay porn shops and bathhouses to operate within the city of San Francisco. In 1981, The Jaguar Bookshop in the Castro, which sold gay pornography, but was mainly a cruising ground for anonymous sex between males, was almost closed down until the bourgeoning gay liberation movement fought for it to remain open – and won. This instance in particular demonstrated the real linkage between gay porn and gay sex. In my experience of over 10 years in the lifestyle, all gay porn shops are actually fronts for a more lucrative “back-room” arcades of looping porn were faceless sex can be procured. To many naive and unsuspecting boys, including myself, these places are the literal gateway through which one is initiated into gay sex. Because, as a teen, I thought one just bought a VHS tape and left. No one told me; and no one warmed me.
Today, the allurement is more high-tech and devious. For, all gay social networking sites on the internet are linked with gay porn sites through a plethora of side-bar advertising and links. One either goes to a gay social network site from a gay porn site or inevitably checks-out a gay porn site through a gay social networking site. In addition, gay social networking sites mirror the anonymous and depersonalized sex to be found in the porn shops and the bathhouses; this is achieved through the widespread phenomena of naked headless selfies and the endless thumbnails of crotches posted by the users. For countless souls just going into the lifestyle, it can often be a sort of initiation through shock; because gay sex, especially anal intercourse, is not as mind-numbingly blissful and pain-free as its depicted in porn; this trauma often leaves you locked – eternally bound to the orientation and to the community; for, there is a shared sense of bonding through similar experiences. Porn, then, becomes a cultural linchpin: a storehouse of the collective hopes and ambitions of a people; yet, there is always tragedy – for it’s based on a warped sense of reality that is meant to deceive. Gay porn is a dream that actually hides the nightmare.



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Never Lose Hope in the Sinful; The Next Day They Could Be Saints

August 14, 2014, 12:16 pm
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I regularly rewatch the 1953 film “The Robe” at least twice a year. Seeing the movie as a kid, it was one of the first VHS tapes my dad bought, is a happy memory from childhood. Then, I was awed by the bravery and selflessness of the heroic centurion played by Richard Burton. Over the years, the movie has meant different things to me at different times. When I was in the gay lifestyle, proudly above it all, and pretending to be a film aficionado, I thought “The Robe” and all 1950s Biblical Epics of its ilk were stupendously stupid, simple minded, and overly sentimental. When I got unceremoniously belched out from the homosexual world, the same 20 year old copy of the film was still at my parent’s house. I wanted to see it again; for, it was like a gentle memory from the past. At that viewing, it was all about the conversion story: how the alcoholic sex addicted man who crucified Christ got a second chance. I was left with such a feeling of hope. Now, I particularly notice the speed at which the conversion takes place: one moment the man is a lustful hater, the next he is a peaceful child of God. It’s truly miraculous; mirroring the lighting strike of St. Paul. For, this also fills me with optimism for my gay brothers and sisters; who are so enamored with the modern gay lifestyle and truly blinded to the Truth as revealed by Our Lord Jesus Christ. At times, it looks truly hopeless. But, then, I must remember that today they maybe a completely lost soul, but tomorrow they could be a Saint. Anything is possible with God. We should never count anyone out.

Author’s note to picture above: This is one of the most incredible scenes in all of screen history – the moment when the centurion touches the Robe and is instantly cured of his sinful demonically induced maladies. I had a similar experience, when I laid dying in a hospital bed, it was as if the Lord Jesus threw His cloak over me and a wave of calm enveloped me; a few seconds before I was cursing anything to do with Him. For there are many souls and many sinners; and many types of conversions: some ease into it after years of study, others think and argue and ponder and must be convinced, others just get forgiven and instantaneously give their lives over to God – such as my early patron St. Mary Magdalene. I was one of the latter examples: as time was short for me and God took pity on this helpless fool. 



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A Saint One Day; A Sinner the Next

August 15, 2014, 2:26 pm
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“The evil spirits, cunning thieves that they are, can take us by surprise and rob us of all we possess. They are watching day and night for the right moment. They roam incessantly seeking to devour us and to snatch from us in one brief moment of sin all the grace and merit we have taken years to acquire. Their malice and their experiences, their cunning and their numbers ought to make us ever fearful of such a misfortune happening to us.” ~ St. Louis Marie de Montfort

Our Lord often repeated to His followers the admonition: “Watch and pray.” Even at the end of his earthly life, Jesus said to the Apostles: “Pray, lest ye enter into temptation;” as He went through the Agony in the Garden for our sins. (Luke 22: 40) To His sorrow, they did not. On this, St. Louis Marie wrote: “The flesh is weak, temptation is everywhere and always around you. If you do not keep up your prayers, you will fail.” For this reason, those lured by sexual sins, including homosexuality, must always be on guard; primarily because our offenses are of such an outward nature that they have been repeatedly and openly observed by the demons who may have been attached to us. What I find most helpful is keeping open a constant dialogue throughout the day with the Lord: telling Him about every thought that goes through my head; asking for help; and continually thanking Him when I sense His Grace. This practice has a tremendous effect upon the penitent: as you never feel alone or that you are fighting your battles as a solitary soldier. But, this ease of conversing with Christ comes only after years of practice; usually including a set of regularly recited vocal prayers such as The Our Father, The Hail Mary, and The Rosary. Yet, even when we speak openly and freely with Christ, we must still maintain a strict adherence to devotions as they ground us in time-tested traditions and self-disciplined practices. Blessed Mother Teresa herself spent at least an hour every day in Eucharistic Adoration, and required her Sisters to do the same. She knew that prayers made the work, which brought her so much unwanted fame and notoriety, possible. For, these prayers are the armor at which is required to withstand the onslaught of the devil. 

A few prayer tips from a battle weary prayer warrior:
Never get complacent.
Keep humble; don’t think that you are above failure.
Don’t skip prayers if you are too tired, or hungry, or restless.
Start the day with a morning prayer and a dedication to God; and end the day with the Act of Contrition and a prayer of thanksgiving.
When vocal prayers such as the Rosary become tiresome and tedious, don’t give up on them; keep praying.
Talk to Jesus throughout the day; share your thoughts, struggles, and pains with Him; nothing is too small or insignificant in His eyes: so if you are troubled – ask for His help.
Also, make it appoint to ask for the prayers of Our Lady and St. Joseph at least once during the day. 



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“…you may at times be assailed by the memory of your own past errors…”

August 16, 2014, 12:30 pm
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WHY A FORMER GAY PORN STAR RETURNED TO THE CATHOLIC CHURCH

August 18, 2014, 9:34 am
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The Desensitizing Effect of Porn on Men

August 19, 2014, 1:43 pm
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Negative correlation between hours of pornography consumption per week and functional-connectivity map of the right striatum in the left dorsolateral prefrontal cortex.
A July 2014 study from the “Journal of the American Medical Association Psychiatry” found that men ages 21 to 45 who frequently watch pornography — defined as at least four hours a week — had less activity in the areas of the brain associated with sexual stimuli than those who watched less. According to the study:
“We found a significant negative association between reported pornography hours per week and gray matter volume in the right caudate corrected for multiple comparisons as well as with functional activity during a sexual cue–reactivity paradigm in the left putamen. Functional connectivity of the right caudate to the left dorsolateral prefrontal cortex was negatively associated with hours of pornography consumption.”
In other words, prolonged exposure to porn negatively impacts the putamen structure in the brain; and the putamen regulates dopamine levels in the body; dopamine is a hormone and neurotransmitter that plays an important role in motivation, arousal, cognition, and reward, as well as a number of basic lower-level functions such as sexual gratification. As a result, the more you look at pornography, the less satisfying it will become. And, although the researchers of this study do not implicitly support the following, I would imply that the study does prove that porn perpetuates a sort of “thrill-kill” phenomena in which the user needs to continually delve into more perverse forms of porn in order to achieve the same high. And, this is what inevitably leads men into viewing depictions of sex-violence, sadomasochism, rape, homosexuality, and child abuse.

Link to original report:
http://diyhpl.us/~bryan/papers2/paperbot/Brain%20Structure%20and%20Functional%20Connectivity%20Associated%20With%20Pornography%20Consumption:%20The%20Brain%20on%20Porn.pdf




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When We Are Chained to Our Past and Our Sins

August 20, 2014, 1:41 pm
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“I cannot believe that God has let me live these three years to die chained to an oar.” ~ Spoken by Judah Ben-Hur in the 1959 film “Ben-Hur.”

Ever since I was a kid, the 1959 movie version of “Ben Hur” has been endlessly inspiring. Like all great works of art, the film has multi-layers of significance that requires volumes to fully appreciate. One of the most powerful aspects of the film concerns how the violence and perversity of the world differently affects several of the characters; the two principal leads are Messala: a kind-hearted boy who leaves Jerusalem for Rome and returns a power-hungry megalomaniac; and Judah Ben-Hur: the Jewish boy whose life was saved by Messala, but ultimately becomes the victim of his friend’s ruthless ambition.
The bulk of the film contrasts the changed personalities of the two former fiends; while Messala rises within the Roman Empire both politically and socially, Judah is sent to the galleys after being falsely accused of attempted murder; in addition, his mother and sister are imprisoned and never heard from again. Quickly, his life of luxury and ease vanishes and Judah becomes hardened and hate-filled as a slave on various Roman ships. When given the opportunity to be recruited as a gladiator or charioteer, he refuses and steadfastly holds onto the belief that God has kept him alive during these years of pain and misery for a purpose.
In the midst of his suffering, Judah believes that the reason for his continued existence is to rescue his family and exact revenge upon Messala. When he finally sees the death of his enemy, he is left feeling cold, unsatisfied, and still strangely wanting more blood. Miraculously, only after witnessing the final sacrifice of Christ Jesus hanging on the Cross - does the light of the Lord’s true purpose enter into his heart.
Similarly, when we find ourselves chained to the addictions of this world: pornography, sex, alcohol, we often think that we are simply rowing into a sort of meaningless infinity of suffering. Like Judah, we must keep alive the Faith that God is still with us, watching over us, and will ultimately free us from bondage. But, if we keep alive enmity and hate, the chains of addiction may be removed, but we will still feel shackled.
I know that when I left the porn industry - I was free of that life, but I endlessly went over things in my head: all the abuse that had been heaped upon me, those that betrayed me, and those that lied to me. I hated them. All these emotions kept me tied to them, and eventually gave everything that was evil power of me. I was moving about, but never fully released. And, to make matters worse, I did not even have the Faith of a Judah Ben-Hur because I did not believe that the Lord had kept me alive; I simply thought that perhaps I had been lucky; or even smarter than some others. For, it was only until I read “The Diary of Divine Mercy” that I understood: “I chase sinners with My mercy in all its ways and My Heart is glad when they return to Me.” And, then I knew that the Lord was always with me; and that my life had always been in His hands; not in mine.
Therefore, this is one layer to reveal in the movie “Ben Hur,” that despite our often prideful best efforts, the Lord keeps us alive, even in the midst of our miseries, for His greatest purpose; not for us to haplessly destroy ourselves or others. And, yes, God wants us to survive and live, but to live in Love. 







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Nicki Minaj Releases Porn Inspired Video

August 20, 2014, 2:46 pm
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Before the song was even released as a music video, the cover for the Nicki Minaj single “Anaconda” has been censored because of its crass and ugly display of Minaj’s backside. One music critic has already labeled the video “basically softcore porn.” I would actually go further and state that it borders on hardcore as all its imagery is directly descended from porn films; featuring full-on lesbianism, partial to full nakedness, simulated oral sex, and simulated ejaculation; this is not including the filthy expletive laden lyrics. This horrific example of cultural decay marks a bit of a tipping point: where pornographic iconography is fully blending into pop-culture. 



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