Perception-Bearing
Most of us have had the experience of being amazed at coming up against someone’s perception of us that’s at odds with our perception of ourselves. Such an experience can be an occasion of insight. It can sometimes be funny; it can also be painful.
Reading over St. John Chrysostom’s Homily 4 on Romans (1: 26-27) caused me to contemplate the various ways we self-accepting gay people are perceived by those in the church who, to varying degrees and in different aspects, don’t accept us. This is the sermon in which the great preacher reflects on St. Paul’s most unambiguous statement condemning homosexuality, using it paint one of the strongest and most negative images of the “vile affections” of same-sex activity that’s likely ever been spoken.
Chrysostom’s eloquent diatribe validates similar perceptions held by people throughout Christian history up to our own day, and those of us on the receiving end of this perception know just how hard it is to bear: we’re taken to be completely, willfully depraved; given over to a sort of sin that any person of reason and humility should clearly recognize to be abhorrent. They’re aghast that this isn’t obvious to us just from nature, let alone from our confrontation with scripture and tradition. Thus we end up perceived as a thing of horror to them, and even a threat. I remember the first priest to whom I brought up my homosexuality telling me that he would do his best to keep me out of the company of little boys, as, it seemed, he considered me a danger to them. It’s pretty easy to see how a gay person would want to flee the church in the face of this attitude, or how remaining there would mean dealing with intense inner conflict. The perception is difficult to bear for anyone. For many, it’s quite impossible.
The above attitude is alive and well, but there is a significant new variant on it today exhibited by those who have come to accept modern scientific evidence that homosexuality is an innate characteristic; that some of us are indeed “born that way”: they regard us as depraved only if we do something about it. Enter the realm of “sexually active” in any way (even if only intentionally), and we’re once again thought to have turned our backs on God, against all reason and understanding, and in the face of the Church’s unambiguous teaching. There’s more pity than abhorrence in this particular attitude. This perception is actually a fairly radical, modern departure from the attitude of Chrysostom, et al., though one sometimes sees it presented as the church’s age-old teaching (which is a lie that should be exposed every time someone tries to tell it). But it’s ultimately not that much easier to bear.
I think it’s worthwhile for those whose perception of gays falls into the categories above to try an exercise in empathy: consider what it would be like to exist in community that would regard you thus, as someone to be feared or pitied above all else. As someone whose every good intention is undercut by the perception that he’s turned away from God into an entirely different direction. Leaving aside for the moment whether that perception is true or not, just imagine what it would be like to bear it. This exercise will not likely instantly change the mind of anyone who’s convinced of the sinfulness of all gay behavior, but it might have some effect toward changing pity into compassion, which is worthwhile in general, I believe, and which creates a place where real communication could happen.
For those of us on the receiving end of the painful perception, it may be helpful to consider an image St. John uses in the same sermon: “For suppose I were to see a person running naked,” he says, “with his body all besmeared with mire, and yet not covering himself, but exulting in it, I should not rejoice with him, but should rather bewail that he did not even perceive that he was doing shamefully. “
This perception allows us to do our own exercise in empathy. Let us imagine what it would be like to be in such a position: to be making an effort to correct someone who is given over to obvious sin, but who is blinded to that fact, and who can’t be convinced otherwise; the frustration of trying to persuade the sinner of the truth in the face of his refusal to see it. We’ll likely not have our minds changed by this exercise either (mine isn’t), but if it can soften our hearts at all toward those who regard us as the mire-covered naked man, it will be worth it too.