Jesus Weeps
Feb. 3rd, 2012 04:30 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
intheheartTitle: Jesus Weeps
Rating: PG.
Summary: Gina speaks out.
Notes: Father Arnott previously appeared in Sacraments. And yes, he did come to Gina's wedding. The title of this stems from a Something Positive comic, oddly enough (BEWARE: depiction of September 11th and religious asshattery at that link).
Warnings: Blatant religious homophobia.
One of the hardest things about being gay and Catholic was the need to find a decent church, with a priest who understood. She'd been lucky enough to have one in Syracuse; Father Arnott had understood, if he maybe hadn't approved, and he'd always given her light penance when she confessed to painful truths.
She smiled at the thought of him, turning into the street where her current church lay. He'd promised to come to her wedding. In less than a week, she would be married to Ivy, her heart, and Father Arnott would be there, to dance with her and give her his blessing as a man, if not as a priest.
She couldn't wait.
This current church, thank God, looked as if it would actually work out-- she was comfortable enough here to go once a month instead of twice a year. The priest, Father Romero, reminded her very much of Father Arnott with his white hair and avuncular smile. When she confessed to fornication with Ivy-- she refused to confess to anything regarding her lesbianism, since she no longer thought it was wrong-- he never commented, only gave her penance and absolution. And soon now she wouldn't need to confess to that anymore; she'd be married, and all sin in the act gone.
Gina gave a little skip of happiness, and entered the church.
She took her customary seat three pews from the front, close enough to hear easily but far enough back to get the full effect of the altar and the stained glass behind it-- and, if she was honest, far enough back to zone out without being caught. Much as she liked Father Romero, he had a distressing tendency to drone, and his sermons were not always the most enthralling.
Still, she'd been going to church since she was an infant. Boring sermons didn't faze her. If she found herself drowsing, she could always watch the colored light drape over the crucified Christ, and say her own private prayers to God.
Father Romero shuffled up to the pulpit; she rose with the rest of the congregation in one smooth wave, sat more raggedly when he reached the first reading. It was something horribly boring from Numbers, so she focused her gaze on Christ's and let her thoughts drift to her blessings.
Ivy, her heart, her love, who she'd marry six days from now. Father Arnott, who loved her enough to come to her wedding when even her parents were noncommittal. Olivia, her maid of honor, her best friend since high school, who'd always been there no matter what turmoil shook her own life. Little Summer, not so little anymore, so unexpectedly wise and big-hearted. The rest of her friends.
The world felt full of light and love, just then. Gina clasped her hands in her lap and smiled up at Christ, feeling blessed.
That lasted just as long as it took Father Romero to get to the homily.
"Now I know you're all as saddened by recent developments as I am," he began, and Gina tuned back in, wondering what she'd missed in her pre-wedding haze of joy. "It is Satan's work. But if we, the faithful, hold strong, perhaps we may effect a change in the laws and conscience of this great state."
What the hell was he talking about? Gina shuffled back through her memory, but the only law she remembered being passed was the one legalizing her marriage. Was it something they'd sneaked through in the wake of joy? Jake should have been ranting about it if they had... had she just not been listening?
"Rest assured, my children," Father Romero droned on, while she thought. "Rest assured that we together can bring right to the state, and remind our brothers and sisters in Christ of repentance. Together, we can rescue these poor lost souls and bring them to our Father's embracing love. Search within yourself: do you know someone who thinks they're gay?"
Gina froze.
Oh. Oh.
A dull roaring began in her ears, drowning out Father Romero's earnest, hateful words. Around her, members of the congregation began to shift uncomfortably, one or two who knew her looking steadfastly away. And on and on he went in his droning, soothing voice, preaching hate and anger and you're wrong you're wrong you're wrong...
"God must be ashamed of you."
She heard the voice ringing out from a distance, and realized it was her own when everyone looked at her.
Father Romero stared at her, then coughed, and said, "I'm sorry, my child, this is the homily, you need to sit--"
"I don't need to do anything," Gina cut him off, the anger boiling up and overflowing, out her mouth. "God must be ashamed of you! How dare you stand here in the house of God and preach hate?"
Father Romero focused on her seriously now. "My child," he said, his voice heavy with patience, "I know you may think what you feel is right, but..."
Gina laughed. "If you're about to tell me I'm an abomination," she said, clearly, "then you need to reread your Bible, Father. Tell me, where does God condemn love? Where does Jesus tell us to hate those different from us?"
"My child..." Father Romero sounded distinctly irritated now. Like she cared.
"You stand there," she continued, "preaching hatred in the Lord's holy name, and you dare to tell me that He doesn't love me? He made me. I am His daughter like everyone else in this congregation. My fiancée is His daughter too. And when we get married on Saturday we will still be His daughters and He will still love us, because we've done nothing but love." She lifted her chin, and looked Father Romero directly in his purpling face. "If your God is one who will hate me for loving the woman He gave me to love, then I don't want any part of Him." She turned on her heel then, and walked out of her pew, down the aisle.
"You will burn in Hell," Father Romero called after her, in the clearest, most ringing voice she'd ever heard from him, "with the unrepentant sinners who blaspheme in His name!"
Gina stopped on the lintel, took a deep breath, and turned around one last time, to face him and every single member of the congregation who wouldn't look at her. One more time, in her clearest, calmest voice, she said, "God must be ashamed of you. And Jesus weeps."
With that, she left the church, ran to the subway stop, jittered on the subway, and ran all the way home, wiping away angry tears at every step.
Ivy looked up when she slammed into the apartment, her face alarmed. "Gina?" she asked, jumping up from the couch. "Honey, what is it? What's wrong?"
Gina went to her in three strides and wrapped her arms around her fiancée, pressing her hot face into Ivy's cool neck.
"I love you," she said, her voice muffled slightly. "And so does God."
"I love you too," Ivy said, sounding mystified. "I... can't speak for God, though."
"That's all right," Gina said, without lifting her face. "I know He loves me too."
Right there, holding the lover He'd sent her, surrounded by the blessings He'd rained down on her head, she knew it in her bones.
Rating: PG.
Summary: Gina speaks out.
Notes: Father Arnott previously appeared in Sacraments. And yes, he did come to Gina's wedding. The title of this stems from a Something Positive comic, oddly enough (BEWARE: depiction of September 11th and religious asshattery at that link).
Warnings: Blatant religious homophobia.
One of the hardest things about being gay and Catholic was the need to find a decent church, with a priest who understood. She'd been lucky enough to have one in Syracuse; Father Arnott had understood, if he maybe hadn't approved, and he'd always given her light penance when she confessed to painful truths.
She smiled at the thought of him, turning into the street where her current church lay. He'd promised to come to her wedding. In less than a week, she would be married to Ivy, her heart, and Father Arnott would be there, to dance with her and give her his blessing as a man, if not as a priest.
She couldn't wait.
This current church, thank God, looked as if it would actually work out-- she was comfortable enough here to go once a month instead of twice a year. The priest, Father Romero, reminded her very much of Father Arnott with his white hair and avuncular smile. When she confessed to fornication with Ivy-- she refused to confess to anything regarding her lesbianism, since she no longer thought it was wrong-- he never commented, only gave her penance and absolution. And soon now she wouldn't need to confess to that anymore; she'd be married, and all sin in the act gone.
Gina gave a little skip of happiness, and entered the church.
She took her customary seat three pews from the front, close enough to hear easily but far enough back to get the full effect of the altar and the stained glass behind it-- and, if she was honest, far enough back to zone out without being caught. Much as she liked Father Romero, he had a distressing tendency to drone, and his sermons were not always the most enthralling.
Still, she'd been going to church since she was an infant. Boring sermons didn't faze her. If she found herself drowsing, she could always watch the colored light drape over the crucified Christ, and say her own private prayers to God.
Father Romero shuffled up to the pulpit; she rose with the rest of the congregation in one smooth wave, sat more raggedly when he reached the first reading. It was something horribly boring from Numbers, so she focused her gaze on Christ's and let her thoughts drift to her blessings.
Ivy, her heart, her love, who she'd marry six days from now. Father Arnott, who loved her enough to come to her wedding when even her parents were noncommittal. Olivia, her maid of honor, her best friend since high school, who'd always been there no matter what turmoil shook her own life. Little Summer, not so little anymore, so unexpectedly wise and big-hearted. The rest of her friends.
The world felt full of light and love, just then. Gina clasped her hands in her lap and smiled up at Christ, feeling blessed.
That lasted just as long as it took Father Romero to get to the homily.
"Now I know you're all as saddened by recent developments as I am," he began, and Gina tuned back in, wondering what she'd missed in her pre-wedding haze of joy. "It is Satan's work. But if we, the faithful, hold strong, perhaps we may effect a change in the laws and conscience of this great state."
What the hell was he talking about? Gina shuffled back through her memory, but the only law she remembered being passed was the one legalizing her marriage. Was it something they'd sneaked through in the wake of joy? Jake should have been ranting about it if they had... had she just not been listening?
"Rest assured, my children," Father Romero droned on, while she thought. "Rest assured that we together can bring right to the state, and remind our brothers and sisters in Christ of repentance. Together, we can rescue these poor lost souls and bring them to our Father's embracing love. Search within yourself: do you know someone who thinks they're gay?"
Gina froze.
Oh. Oh.
A dull roaring began in her ears, drowning out Father Romero's earnest, hateful words. Around her, members of the congregation began to shift uncomfortably, one or two who knew her looking steadfastly away. And on and on he went in his droning, soothing voice, preaching hate and anger and you're wrong you're wrong you're wrong...
"God must be ashamed of you."
She heard the voice ringing out from a distance, and realized it was her own when everyone looked at her.
Father Romero stared at her, then coughed, and said, "I'm sorry, my child, this is the homily, you need to sit--"
"I don't need to do anything," Gina cut him off, the anger boiling up and overflowing, out her mouth. "God must be ashamed of you! How dare you stand here in the house of God and preach hate?"
Father Romero focused on her seriously now. "My child," he said, his voice heavy with patience, "I know you may think what you feel is right, but..."
Gina laughed. "If you're about to tell me I'm an abomination," she said, clearly, "then you need to reread your Bible, Father. Tell me, where does God condemn love? Where does Jesus tell us to hate those different from us?"
"My child..." Father Romero sounded distinctly irritated now. Like she cared.
"You stand there," she continued, "preaching hatred in the Lord's holy name, and you dare to tell me that He doesn't love me? He made me. I am His daughter like everyone else in this congregation. My fiancée is His daughter too. And when we get married on Saturday we will still be His daughters and He will still love us, because we've done nothing but love." She lifted her chin, and looked Father Romero directly in his purpling face. "If your God is one who will hate me for loving the woman He gave me to love, then I don't want any part of Him." She turned on her heel then, and walked out of her pew, down the aisle.
"You will burn in Hell," Father Romero called after her, in the clearest, most ringing voice she'd ever heard from him, "with the unrepentant sinners who blaspheme in His name!"
Gina stopped on the lintel, took a deep breath, and turned around one last time, to face him and every single member of the congregation who wouldn't look at her. One more time, in her clearest, calmest voice, she said, "God must be ashamed of you. And Jesus weeps."
With that, she left the church, ran to the subway stop, jittered on the subway, and ran all the way home, wiping away angry tears at every step.
Ivy looked up when she slammed into the apartment, her face alarmed. "Gina?" she asked, jumping up from the couch. "Honey, what is it? What's wrong?"
Gina went to her in three strides and wrapped her arms around her fiancée, pressing her hot face into Ivy's cool neck.
"I love you," she said, her voice muffled slightly. "And so does God."
"I love you too," Ivy said, sounding mystified. "I... can't speak for God, though."
"That's all right," Gina said, without lifting her face. "I know He loves me too."
Right there, holding the lover He'd sent her, surrounded by the blessings He'd rained down on her head, she knew it in her bones.
