“The Father spoke one Word, which was his Son, and this Word he speaks always in eternal silence, and in silence must it be heard by the soul.” ~ St. John of the Cross
In the midst of another outreach to the gay community, I always know that a safe and secure bastion of Love and peace is waiting for me within every Catholic church - inside the tabernacle, Christ is ever present and ever bestowing His Grace upon those who approach in fear and trembling. The supreme quite and stillness of these places, so far removed from the frantic and restless atmosphere that pervades the constant desperate strutting and preening which pervades the Castro: I immediately feel rejuvenated and consoled deep within the embrace of My Lord. I now know Him, and He knows me. I walk into the church, and I am home. The gay community was once my home, now, it feels all the more empty and hopeless; the men there, no longer idols of masculinity and beauty, but lost souls - bound to the decaying material world. I still love them, but my heart belongs to another. Yet, I had been trapped like them: once, when I was a slave to evil, a friend invited me to a Christmas concert of Gregorian chant at a San Francisco Catholic church; having been raised a 1970s folk guitar Mass Catholic, I had no idea what it was all about; but when I arrived - I couldn’t go in; the thought revolted me. It is so different today: for, I always finish a day of evangelization at Sts. Peter and Paul: after paying my respects to the Lord at the high altar, I rush to my foster-father in Heaven (St. Joseph.) At his small shrine, I kneel on the hard marble, but it feels like a pillow; the child Jesus in his arms greets me; and, I know that all is well - in this little peace of sanity in the center of chaos.
Photos taken at St. Dominic's Church and Sts. Peter and Paul Church
in San Francisco, CA. (9/30/14)