The Body of Christ has given me heartburn!

I'm not a regular church goer. I am not even sure I could be classified as an irregular church goer.

As a lesbian, I have some justifiable bitches about mainstream religion, in general, and mainstream Christianity, specifically. You know, the whole issue of my being an abomination and my inescapable trip to warmer climes...yeah... it does not sit well with this dyke.

Because I know that I am really not the scourge of humanity, I also know there are other parts of the Bible that are complete and utter bullshit, which makes me question the whole thing. Sometimes that causes me discomfort.

You see, I was raised in a very religious household in a rather serious religion. I come from a Mennonite family and from a faith where fun is questionable and probably immoral...like dancing, laughing, smoking and certainly drinking. I think we always skipped over the Bible lesson where Jesus turned water into wine at a wedding where everyone was having fun. I digress.

So, not being welcome in that religion because of my sexual orientation and my sacrilegious desire for fun, I went off in search of other belief systems where I could feel like I belong. That was years ago...it involved church shopping to various faiths or Houses of God without any particular faith. I eventually felt a calling to all things pagan and immersed myself in a form of Native spirituality. Most recently, I have found myself drawn to Wicca; a calling from my Celtic roots, I am certain. At least witches know how to have fun, mostly don't care if you are gay and, despite all that, they can still be reverent folk!

But this morning...this morning...I got up and went to the Metropolitan Community Church of Toronto. Ok, it's not exactly mainstream, but it has parts of it that remind me of my church oriented youth...usually parts that have historically made me cringe, hyperventilate and want to run for my very life. Regular church makes me feel claustrophobic...I have even been known to sweat during weddings, even if the inside temperature is actually cool.

An ex of mine...the same one responsible for taking me to St. James Cathedral in my first blog entry, took me to MCCT for the first time, about 8 years ago. I walked into this church as a lesbian refugee from the Bible Belt of Alberta. I was nervous, knowing my penchant for anxiety in churches. I sat down, the service commenced and I started to cry. Uncontrollably. Sobbing. Couldn't stop it. Couldn't understand it. Still don't. I could try and fit excuses for it and they would make sense, but it was really beyond that. My partner just put her arm around me, knowingly, and said nothing.

Since that first time, I have sporadically visited the church and watched other people break down in tears with the same confusion. I still have a hard time, myself, not crying when I go there. It's not an unhappy crying...maybe more of a mix of joy, feeling overwhelmed and a feeling of love or maybe even Love that has been so absent from my other church experiences. This morning was no different.

There is no fire and brimstone at the "Gay Church." There is only love and acceptance. Jesus isn't someone spewing about the impurity of sex or the degenerate nature of homosexuals. He never tells you not to have fun. At MCCT he is instead a loving activist for change who's been known to drink wine and maybe even dance a little, who knows?

I don't really know who Jesus Christ was and the older I get the more questions I have...was he God? Are we not all God? Was he a greater soul than any of us? Did he really die on the cross? Did he rise again? Questioning the Bible has led me to many questions about Christ himself and wondering what the truth is under all the subterfuge of religious crap and power mongering.

I find it amusing...cause that's the kinda weirdo I am...that I am setting off on a 750 KM trek that calls itself Catholic to some and the trail of Druids and Goddess Worshippers to others. It was the scene of violent carnage between the Christians and the Moors...a place for saints to experience God and a place for sinners trying to burn off their crimes to avoid Hell. A place of extremes. Religion has created a world of extremes. Of polarities. Black and white. Good and evil. Right and wrong. Maybe my truth lies somewhere in the middle.

Maybe the point of the whole thing is balance and inclusion. Maybe I don't have to decide who Christ was...maybe he is not the Christ of my youth. Maybe he is not the Christ of mainstream Christianity. I am not so sure about the Body of Christ...but the pre-fabbed, pressed wafer representing him, this morning, managed to upset my stomach. No offense, Jesus. But maybe that's my problem...maybe I don't like Jesus pre-fabbed and pressed to fit someone's idea of what is best to feed the masses.

Maybe I can find the truth...my truth...on the Camino where people have been fighting over it instead of listening to it for zillions of years. But this morning...this morning...I felt strangely ok in a church about Jesus. A church filled with abominable people who, according to some Jesus worshippers, should buy stock in sunscreen. It may not have all the answers I need and some things may still cause me indigestion, but I really do feel the Love there. Thanks for reminding me, MCCT, not to be such a cynic.