Is It Cold in Here? Or Is It Just Mary?

You gotta love Texas. (Note sarcasm.)

As we all know, many of the religiously devout tend to see god and his family in all sorts of things where he (or they) most likely aren't. But this was one that should get some kind of award: I'm thinking we could name it "Silliest Worship of Graven Image" or "Sky God's Mom: The Frigid Years."

From the article:

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But folks in the small West Texas town of Morton say they’ve seen the “Holy Mother” made of ice inside a freezer at the local grocery store.

It started as one drip from the ceiling of a freezer at Morton Thrifty Foods grocery store. Now it has become quite the sanctuary for a lot of Catholic believers.

“I wanted to cry when I saw it,” said Stephan Santos, who was visiting the ice formation. “My mom has all saints in her house. But this one just got to me.”

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"Visiting the ice formation." What does one say when visiting an ice sculpture? A little conversation starter to break the ice, perhaps: "Excuse me, um, frozen Virgin? Would you care to pass that milk that's behind you? This one's expired. Thanks!"; or "Excuse me, Virgin? You're blocking the Dannon Yogurt." I guess everyone's reminded of a simpler, gentler time when Virgin's were expected to be very cold to keep their virginity exactly that! A time when one's uterus was owned by one's father or husband, and only then could the ice thaw...

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Store employee Alma Avalos first spotted the formation in the back freezer of her store, noticing what had been a few drops of water from the ceiling that had frozen.

“I went in there, and it started forming like some kind of ice, and then Friday I went in there, and it was shaped like that,” Avalos said.

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Imagine that! Water dripping into a freezer makes (drumroll, please!) a Stalagmite!!! Never would of thunk it, would ya?

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As more and more people heard about the “Virgin Mary,” they started coming in droves to see her, and the grocery store moved her into a freezer in the frozen foods section.

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Here that? Mary no longer hangs out in the back, she's front and center, next to the Jell-O pudding pops and that dead pig they just sliced up. And let's face it, she's probably right at home. She did give birth in a barn after all.

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Some have had their prayers answered after visiting the ice statue.

“I had a lump in my breast, and yesterday, when I went home, it disappeared. I don’t have it no more,” said one woman.

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Well, dad-gum! Why, I don't got it no more either! Where do they find these people, anyway? Oh, that's right, the brainless were on a pilgrimage to see a lump of ice, I forgot.



Yeah, I can see the resemblance... you mean, you can't? You must need god, my friend... (or, at least, an over active imagination and some faith...)

Near-Death Experience Number 1:Chicken Pox

It all started in that time of bliss, that time of childhood, that time of...

Jason's Yesteryear's...
I think I was about six or seven. I was in second grade. We had recently learned about this horrible disease called The Chicken Pox, and I remember hearing my teacher, Mrs. Logan, say, (among other things), "It's much worse if you don't get it until you're older." This apparently made a great impression upon me...

I prayed for The Chicken Pox. I could only imagine how horrible it would be if I didn't get it until I was older! (And, of course, to a seven year old, 15 is older!) I even remember putting it in the "prayer request" box one time at least once, hoping sky god woul dmake me sick to spare me from it being worse when I was older... (Oh, the ironies...)

And wouldn't you know it... All five of us came down within weeks of each other... with The Chicken Pox. If I was seven, that means Tom was eight, Michael was five, Sylvia was four, and Cynthia was three...

(Brief segue:) My poor mother... (End segue.)

I was one of the last to get it, actually. And I only got a few spots, not like my siblings. (I still have two spots on my tummy from it; I did have four until Near Death Experience Number 2: Appendicitis, but that's another story...) I suppose everyone thought I was free and clear...

A few days later...

My knee hurt. Hurt something bad. I remember going to bed, and I called out to my parents before they closed the door and turned off the light, saying: "My knee hurts." I was told to go to sleep...

I woke up the next morning. My knee hurt! Much worse than last night. I guess I was running a small fever, or maybe they still thought I was getting over The Chicken Pox, as I was home from school. I was sitting there eating my (Yuck!!) Cheerios with (Yum!) tons of sugar poured over it to make it edible...

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Me: My knee hurts.
Mom: It's probably growing pains. (I had been taller then my older brother since I was three--I was growing fast...)
Me: It really hurts bad.
Mom: It's growing pains. You want some Tylenol?
Me: My knee hurts bad.
Mom: I'll get you some Tylenol. Go lay on the couch.

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Now, sky god bless my mom, she was babysitting four preschool children that day (as, apparently, five of her own was not a big enough challenge...), and I know they were sitting there playing with their various toys and whatnot. Four small children is a lot to keep track of (unless, of course, your my mom...) and she still had time to get me some Tylenol...

I think I fell asleep on the couch. The next thing I remember was not my knee hurting--my knee was on fire with pain!!!! I had never known such agony before! I think my mom knew now that this was no "growing pains." She ripped off my pants, and, in her words, "my knee was the size of a softball." Picture that briefly if you will: A seven-year-old's knee, the size of a softball... Oh, and red. And painful.

I was screaming in pain.

Next thing I remember, a bunch of women were at our house. Mom had called all the mother's of whom she had their offspring there. I don't know if they gave her a hard time or not (we all remember how career women of the 80s thought they had to be tough and own shoulder pads three inches higher than their ears...), and, even though I was in pain!!!, I also had to pee!

I'm seven. I have no sense of timing or a terrific sense of bladder control. So, between my sobs:

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Me: Mommy, I hafta go to the baffroom.
Mom: (Incredulity) Now?!
Mrs. Orner: He's sick?
Me: I hafta pee!
Mom: Hold on, honey--
Mrs. Orner: Well, what's wrong with him?
Me: I HAFTA PEE!!!!!!

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Next thing I know, my pants are pulled off, and three grown women are holding me over the toilet, staring at me with concern, alternately staring at my volley-ball-sized knee cap, and I no longer hafta pee... In fact, I'm sure that I'll never hafta pee again...

I blacked out.

I remember waking up with a sudden THUMP! I was on a stretcher. Several people were around me. I think I had one of those oxygen things on my face. The sun was shining, glaring off the mask... I blacked out again.

I woke again in a hallway. A all-white hallway. People in white were a few yards down the hall, answering phones, looking at clip boards. An old man in a wheelchair waved hello to me. Mom was standing beside me, running her hands on my head. I couldn't hear her, even though her lips were moving... I blacked out.

One month later:

I don't remember much of the past month. From what I've heard, Mom was a wreck. Actually, she was A WRECK. She spent most nights at the hospital at my bedside. Grandmom constantly badgered her about neglecting her other four children (mostly because she was stuck babysitting them, and she wasn't exactly what you would call "child-friendly").

Apparently, for most of that first month, I had been dying as none of the doctor's could figure out what was wrong with me. (Now would be a good time to point out that

1. There was no white light
2. No angel standing by my bed
3. No dead relatives beckoning to me

At least, not that I remember...) Surgery had been performed, a ton of pus had been drained off my knee, tubes were going in and out of me in every--every--conceivable hole in my body...

I had Internal Chicken Pox. For the next month, my teachers came to tutor me in the hospital. One time, Miss Cox brought me a strawberry milkshake from McDonald's... I threw it up all over her (Hehehehehe!!) Mrs. Logan took over the tutoring (Hmm, wonder why?)

All the other kids on my floor were there to have their tonsils removed, so, as none of them could talk (and they were all in-and-out so fast I couldn't make friends with any of them), the nurses were my best friends. They would bring me Jell-O pudding pops anytime I asked for them (to actually help put meat back on my bones--I was anorexic thin, apparently...)

I was released after yet another month on crutches. Those crutches would be with me for another three/four months until I learned to walk again.

And, turning 31 today, I have passed the age when I was told I would need to have a replacement knee put into my body. (Hey! It's a happy milestone in what could be just another year!)

I still tease my mom over this: "It's just growing pains! Have some Tylenol!"

I'm not sure what life would have been like for the rest of my family had I not lived. I doubt Sylvia or Cynthia would even remember who I was, as they were so young. But I just know, this was one of the most profound experiences of my life, though I wouldn't appreciate that until I was much older. The sacrifices my parents had to make, even my evil grandmother, no matter how unwillingly. But I know that this, combined with Near Death Experiences Number 2 and 3, have helped me to learn not only to appreciate my life more (who wouldn't appreciate life more after almost dying?), but also to be less concerned with What May Be After. As What May Be After is just that: What may be. And not only can What May Be not have any bearing on What Is Now, it also shouldn't be used to in any way deter, overshadow, or command What Is Now. What Is Now is all we have, all you will ever be given, for all anyone knows.

And I intend to continue to live it to the fullest. I know that everything I have today, I have it not because I almost died; I have it because I lived. And that's a big difference in outlook...

Thanks Mom and Dad, and to the doctor's whose names I don't know, and most likely never did know. Thank you for saving my life and allowing me to reach this milestone, this age. I don't know what your lives may have been like if I had died, but I know my life is wonderful, in part, because you continue to be there...

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Medicine has made some wonderful advances since Near Death Experience Number 1. Do you know they now have a vaccine so that no more children will go this the agony I did? I'm glad I'll never have to see any of my nieces or nephews go through my experience...

The moral: Don't just assume it's growing pains!!! and
Live life in the now. You never know when you will have no more "nows" to live in...

Staring Down the Barrel... At a Ghost?

I'm on the cusp of turning 31... That's three decades and one year that I have been on this planet we like to call Earth, for lack of a more gregarious term (such as "The Happy Place" or "Unpredictable Cacophony of Life-Bearing Rock Land")...

In celebration of my three decades and one year (two days early), I was at Mom and Dad's today, helping my father on the continuing saga of The Deck. Of course, if any of you know my father, it isn't a simple matter of ripping down the old deck and putting on a new one. It involves:

1. Ripping down the old deck
2. Deciding piece by piece which boards can be used again on the new deck and
3. Ripping out any offending nails in those pieces
4. Adding three feet to the living room
5. Bringing out the roof 6 feet to cover the new front porch
6. Making it pretty by adding weird angles and nifty decorative beams
7. Replacing all the windows along the front
8. Adding a new back screened-in porch
9. Bringing out the roof, along with a new dormer
10. Changing where the back door was located so we can add a second bathroom and some new closet space
11. Re-shingling the entire roof (including new areas over the front porch and screened-in porch)
12. At the same time ripping out the old sky lights and putting in new ones
13. And then building a deck, complete with more odd angles, to connect the new front porch and the new back screen-in porch...

And now you know why we've been doing this since last spring...

Of course, we five of his off-spring knew it was only a matter of time before a project like this started when they moved into the new house in the Poconos... Dad couldn't go ten years at our old house without doing some kind of addition or remodeling project which, of course, always involved his herd of children (kind of like how farmers used to make their wives pop out a dozen or so to work the farm... Dad had us for the remodeling of his home... :D)

We've learned a lot over the years about the proper way to nail, screw, bolt, run wires, measure (twice), cut (once), and so on and so forth...

After a hard days' labor, we retired to the kitchen (looking out through new windows, as mentioned earlier), and had some of Mom's wonderful lasagna (she won a blue ribbon or something for it at a church bazaar... I dunno), and, as always, the subject of... yes, ladies and gentlemen, ghosts, came up.

My mother is not only a firm believer in the after-life (sky god, jesus, holy spirit, demons, angels... you know...) as well as in spirits and ghosts of those who have (to use a popular term) "passed on." I, on the other hand, while allowing for it as a possibility, don't think of it as a high probability. One case in point is the nefarious Slipper Incident, which Mom alluded to in her comments on my last post...

In short, the Slipper Incident can be summed up as such:

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Once upon a time, in a not-so-special basket in an eclectically-decorated not-so-extraordinary bedroom, there lived six (perhaps seven) pairs of slippers. On the very bottom of this not-so-special basket were slippers made in loving, if garishly colored, yarn. Never worn yet always treasured (due to an uncomfortable tightness of the ankles and soreness on the soles), these were on the bottom, as duty never required for them to be called into service by the upper five pairs.

The upper five pairs consisted of (from lowest in the basket to highest) a yet-to-be-broken-in pair, another yet-to-be-broken-in pair, a slightly used but newer pair, and an every-day use pair. And, beside this not-so-special basket were the Tigger Slippers of Ages Past (who wouldn't fit into the basket, though whether due to claustrophobia on Tigger's part, or just due to Tigger's rather large craniums hanging out in front of the slippers, one may never know).

One not-so-special day in the not-too-distant past (like, a week or three ago), Mom was going about her daily morning routine, which can be summed up as such:

1. Get up.
2. Put on slippers (top pair in basket)
3. Pet dog (Shy Anne)
4. Go to restroom
5. Drink loads of coffee
6. Get a shower
7. Drink more coffee
8. Do whatever she had planned for that day

On this particularly not-so-special day, when Mom exited from her lime-green tub (yet to be remodeled--give it another ten years), she noticed something awry as she crossed the hall back into her bedroom...

One of Grandmom Hughes's lovingly made, garishly colored, yet always treasured slippers was sitting on the floor, by the bed, quite a distance (let's say, five feet?) from the not-so-special basket...

One word pops into Mom's head: Ghost. Now, whether this is Grandmom Hughes's ghost, Grandpop Zartman's ghost, or simply a ghost who likes garishly colored yarn-type items, one may never know.

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Immediately, a call went out on the line: Mom's seen spectral anomalies in her home. I'm not sure how many of my siblings place stock in ghosts, and how many place not-so-much stock in ghosts, but as stated earlier, I am of the not-so-much variety. Several possibilities popped into my mind:

1. It was simply caught on the slippers pulled out that morning and dropped off after Mom made her way out of the room
2. Static Cling
3. The cat (Roadkill) decided she wanted to play with the garishly colored yarn-type item
4. Or any other number of reasonable, every day explanations...

Mom was adamant. "No!" she cried. "They are on the bottom. There are four other pairs of slippers on top of them. There is no reasonable explanation for how they got all the way over there from the bottom of the basket."

Trust me, things almost got heated.

Dad doesn't say much. He does have to live with her, after all. :D I explained how, why I thought it was a possibility that some spectral form from the past of the living had taken quite a shine to Grandmom's slippers, the number of rational possibilities were not only as equally possible as the ghost theory, the ghost theory was not as plausible as other explanations were.

She asked me what those explanations were. I said them. She repeated her "bottom of the basket" scenario. We went in circles for quite some time. We were actually discussing the Slipper Incident at the family Christmas get-together, and I threw at her an equally possible explanation (though just as nearly improbable) as her ghost theory: worm holes. A worm hole opened on the bottom of the basket, and reopened five feet away in her bedroom.

I'm still not sure why she'll accept ghosts, but not a worm hole...

She still thinks I just need a good haunting...

I'm staring down the barrel of thirty-one. My mother thinks all I need is a ghost. I'm wondering if it's returnable, as it certainly wasn't on my wish list for my birthday...

She made me watch some Discovery TV show called "A Haunting," which was really just a story about a woman having a nervous psychosomatic breakdown after a break up with a boyfriend--and obssesses over her ex-boyfreinds dead brothers' picture... so much so that her young, impressionable daughters start seeing ghosts... and she "finds out" through some type of medium that not only is her ex-boyfriends dead brother hanging around, he thinks she's "the light" that all ghosts are supposed to go toward, but interstingly enough, he is also being used by another ex-boyfriends ghost from a past life who killed her and wants to see her suffer in this life... And while I was laughing uproariously at the silliness of it all, I know my mother thinks this stuff is true...

This falls under the category of "I Do Not Understand, But I Love You Regardless of Your Life Choices." This is the same category she places my gayness in, so it's kind of a nice balance...

The Voices Are Back... In Adam's Head...

Just when you thought it was safe to share an anti-Christian opinion (let alone a thought), your favorite e-mail stalker rears his ugly head and declares you... An Atheistic Proselytizer!

I'm not quite sure how I was nominated (although I'll thank the little people right now--Thanks!). I'm thinking that it did have something to do with the lovely discussion I was having with davida on my last post.

Let me copy and paste a few words from Adam's e-mail:

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God has placed a concern on my heart for your recent words towards this young lady. A man with such questionable morals has no place teaching a young girl the ways of the world.

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"The ways of the world." Almost makes me wish I had cowboy boots to shudder in! (Mental Note: Buy cowboy boots for future shuddering sessions.) Although it is needless to point out to him that she (Is Davida a "she"? Hmm...) asked me about what I thought on my blog, I thought I gave fair, balanced answers, as well as having directed her to at least one Christian blog; not to mention the fact that I think it hardly counts as "proselytizing" if I'm not running door-to-door asking people about their personal relationships with sky god. (Mental Note #2: Go door-to-door asking... in cowboy boots in case shuddering is required.)

I'm also a little concerned that my stalker is still receiving messages from sky god. Not only would I have thought god would have reported Adam's repeated requests for my straightness as "Spam," but that sky god actually responded? I imagine it went something like this:

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FROM: skygod@heaven.he
TO: person_of_the_lord@yahoo.com
DATE: [immaterial]
SUBJECT: Homosexual deviants

Dearest Adam,

DON'T HIT DELETE! This is YHWH. About this Jason character; yes, I need you to once again contact him re:

1. nonreligious proselytizing,
2. sodomy, and
3. for not owning a pair of King James Patent-Leather Spike-heeled Cowboy Boots complete with Cross Insignia.

I was also a little concerned that he was alerting people to my church's rewriting of history as in his "Xmas" post. HS still hasn't gotten over that little fiasco.

Jesus would also like you to note that you are three souls short of your salvation quota, so you may not be getting that sterling silver crown of thorns for your mansion in heaven unless you pick up the pace. I suggest hitting up that Jason character again; he seems to draw a crowd.

Warm regards (although not hellishly warm),
YHWH

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Look, sky god even has a sense of humor! LOL.

Anyway, since he also implies in his email that they had a "casting out of the homosexual demon" ceremony for me (Mental Note #3: Buy homosexual demon some nice accessories for clubbing this weekend) and making me extremely curious as to what that would involve (burning me in effigy? making a voodoo doll of me and sprinkling it with holy water? a simple fasting followed by a prayer meeting at IHOP?), it makes me happy to see someone so concerned, even if it is for all the wrong reasons. I beginning to think more people pray for me than the pope. (Mental Note #4: See if I can get cowboy boots like the pope's; would shuddering lessons be required?)

He goes into this slightly a little further in his email to me:

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May the power of Jesus wrest from you this demon; may He break the chains holding you in bondage; may you find the peace in Jesus that I currently know.

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One question: If you have so much peace, why is your badonk-a-donk butt bothering me? If you ask me, peace is NOT constantly being worried about who may or may not "know Christ," but I realize that may just be me. Some people have strange definitions of peace, of that I'm sure. I mean, look at how Bush thinks we brought peace to the Middle East, am I right?

Well, here's hoping YHWH sends him a clue, even if it is as an attachment...

What Would Extraterrestrial Life Mean for Religion?

We all know that fundies believe "god created the heavens and the earth," as well as every single thing "that creepeth upon the earth."

But what would happen if ET popped by for a visit? If we did find small, wriggly one-celled beings in one of Mars' potential water ways?

I always imagined one of two things:

1. Suddenly a new "chapter" in Genesis would be discovered, sort of an addendum to chapters one and two which would say something to the effect of: "And on the eighth day, God sprinkled little bits of life dust throughout the solar system; and it was better than anything the first seven days had ever produced."
2. Or, people would simply shrug, say, "Well, I guess we should take god off life-support then, shouldn't we?"

Granted, many would fall somewhere in between. Some would suddenly find "prophecies" in Psalms, maybe a proverb or two, claim that Satan put them there, whatever.

One interesting story I read this week talked about the possibility that life was overlooked on Mars in the past, due not only to a lack of understanding about the Martian habitat, but because we didn't realize as well how diverse life could really be at the time. (Don't read into this that life had been discovered but destroyed; that is not the case. But the possibility that it may have been overlooked has been presented in this article...) Since we discovered sea cucumbers, worms at super hot acidic vents at the depths of the ocean, even life living in a sea of methane at the bottom of the gulf of Mexico... No, this isn't God Classics earth any longer. Either this is a newer, tastier, more elaborate God II, or we've switched formulas entirely...

I personally can't wait till that discovery is made. Whether it be a tiny microbe or a 7 legged deer type creature which survives by eating rocks and farting cheeseburgers...

Our universe is large, and keeps getting stranger... I just wonder how long god can stay on life support...

Happy B-day to My Blog

Yes, ladies, gentlemen, and ne'er-do-wells, it's been one year since my very first post here on Blogspot.

We've come a long way (and we also haven't moved an inch) but we've had fun. I'd liek to thank all of you for making the past year interesting, delightful, frustrating (you know who you are), and overall pretty cool...

See you sometime this week...

Deathmatch: Quran vs. BibleWhat Does the Constitution Say?

UPDATED BELOW:

I don't get it.

Honestly.

People are all in an uproar (see here, here, or even here for a real doozer!!) because Keith Ellison, the Muslim dude elected to Congress, swore into office, not on the bible which he doesn't believe in, but the Quran, which he does believe in. Now, I'm not going to go into the silliness of making people swear on fairy tales and legends to uphold the Constitution--we'll be laughing about that in what I predict will be another 50 to 100 years.

But, really people, wouldn't you rather the guy swear on a book he feels is holy as opposed to a book you feel is holy? Not only that, but it simply reiterates on a certain level that we take freedom of religion seriously. It's not "under attack" as some Christian fundies would have you believe--we just don't put up with you telling people how to live and what to believe. You may like your "freedom" in your gilded cage of religion, but it ain't for everybody, and that, at least, we can be thankful that the forefathers wrote it down on parchment: freedom of religion & freedom of speech.

This also kind of blows the lie that we are a "Christian nation" right out of the water (as, wouldn't it be in the Constitution that you must "swear on the bible" if we were a "Christian nation"?) As if the fact that the first amendment and the first commandment are in total contradiction isn't enough... In fact, you know what the Constitution does say? Of course, if you're a fundie, you'll willingly ignore this part:

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The Senators and Representatives ... and all executive and judicial officers, both of the United States and of the several states, shall be bound by oath or affirmation, to support this Constitution; but no religious test shall ever be required as a qualification to any office or public trust under the United States.

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Basically, Christian fundamentalists are upset not only because the dude won't be a hypocrite, but because they know the lies they've been perpetuating are going to be blasted out into the open.

Doesn't the irony just make you want to laugh? In fact, on the one blog I read, the poster wrote the following to his congressman:

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I ask that you introduce and help get passed a law making the Bible the book to be used in swearing in Representatives, Senators, the President and Vice-President and other public officials.

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Where's that concern for religious freedom? Of course, in his little rant, he uses an example of an extremist Muslim to point out "how dangerous they are." (And here I am, pointing out the idiocy of these Christian extremists to show how dangerous they are... just a little more irony for you to digest...)

I wonder which fundie will be the first to realize any of this... Any bets on how long it will take Robertson to ask for Jesus to kill Ellison?

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As the argument progresses on another site, it was pointed out that the Quran seems to promote violence, and that was the core of the issue with him swearing on the Quran... It was also questioned whether one could be a servant of Allah and still uphold the constitution... (I don't know why if you can believe in the bible and still uphold the constitution, why not the quran?) Regardless, here are some thoughts I left for them...

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Islam does not allow or sanctify the killing any innocent person regardless of his or her religion (much like you claim your holy book doesn't either). According to the Qur'an and Hadith (sayings of Prophet Muhammad) life is sacrosanct.

In the Qur'an: ". . . Do not take life, which Allah has made sacred, except through justice and the law. He orders this so that you may acquire wisdom" (6:151) and, "Do not take life, which Allah has made sacred, except for a just cause. If anyone is killed unjustly, We allow his heir (to seek justice) but do not allow him to exceed bounds when it comes to taking life, for he is helped (by the law)" (17:33). According to the Qur'an, killing a person unjustly is the same as killing all of humanity, and saving a person is the same as saving all humanity. (See 5:32.)

Another oft quoted verse that people say promotes violence is: "Kill them wherever you catch them. . . " (2:191), ". . . But if they turn away, seize them and kill them wherever you find them. (In any case) take no friends or helpers from their ranks." (4:89), and similar verses.

But within their textual and historical contexts, however, their true meanings emerge:

"Fight in the cause of Allah those who fight you, but do not transgress limits, for Allah does not love transgressors. Kill them wherever you catch them, and turn them out from where they have turned you out, for tumult and oppression are worse than slaughter. But do not fight them at the Sacred Mosque, unless they (first) fight you there. If they fight you, kill them. Such is the reward of those who reject faith. But if they cease, Allah is Oft-Forgiving, Most Merciful. Fight them until there is no more tumult or oppression and justice and faith in Allah prevail. If they cease, engage in hostility only against those who practice oppression. There is the law of equality of for the prohibited months, and so for all things prohibited. If any one transgresses the prohibition against you, transgress likewise against him. But be conscious of Allah and know that He is with those who restrain themselves" (2:190-194).

The other verses read: "They hope that you will reject faith, as they do, and thus be on the same footing (as they). So do not take friends from their ranks until they flee in the way of Allah (from what is forbidden). If they become renegades, seize them and kill them wherever you find them. (In any case) take no friends or helpers from their ranks, except for those who join a group with whom you have a (peace) treaty or those who approach you with hearts calling upon them to be neutral. If Allah had pleased, He could have given them power over you and they would have fought you. So if they withdraw from you and do not fight you, and (instead) send you (guarantees of) peace, then Allah has opened no way for you (to fight them). You will find others who wish to gain your confidence as well as that of their people. Every time they are sent back to temptation they succumb to it. If they do not withdraw from you or give you (guarantees) of peace besides restraining their hands, seize them and kill them wherever you find them. In their case, We have provided you with a clear argument against them" (4:89-91).

Nowhere do these verses give general permission to kill any one. They were revealed to Prophet Muhammad at the time when the nonbelievers were attacking Makkah's Muslims and threatening those in Madinah. In contemporary jargon we may say that as the Muslims were subject to constant terrorist attacks on Madinah, Allah allowed them to defend themselves. These verses do not allow Muslims to engage in terrorism; rather, they are warnings against terrorism, but they also contain clear calls for restraint and care.

You can appreciate how religious texts, if not read within their proper textual and historical contexts, are easily manipulated and distorted. Let's look at the Bible and apply the standards applied above.

In Deuteronomy, the fifth book of the Torah, Moses shares this message from God as the Israelites prepare to enter the Promised Land: "I will make my arrows drunk with blood, and my sword shall devour flesh; with the blood of the slain and of the captives, from the long-haired heads of the enemy." (Deut. 32:42)

"When the Lord, your God, brings you into the land that you are entering to possess, and clears away many nations before you, the Hittites, the Girgashites, the Amorites, the Canaanites, the Perizzites, the Hivites, and the Jebusites, seven nations greater and stronger than you. And when the Lord, your God, delivers them before you and you defeat them, destroy them utterly. Make no covenant with them and show no mercy to them" (Deuteronomy 7:1-2).

"When your brother, the son of your mother, or your son or your daughter, or the wife of your bosom, or your friend who is as your own soul, entices you secretly, saying 'Let us go and serve other gods,' . . . you shall kill him, your hand shall be first against him to put him to death, and afterwards the hand of all the people. You shall stone him to death with stones, because he sought to draw you away from the Lord your God. . . " (Deuteronomy 13: 6-10)

"When you approach a city to fight it, offer it terms of peace. If it agrees to make peace with you and opens to you, all the people found in it shall become your forced labor and shall serve you. However, if it does not make peace with you, but makes war against you, besiege it. When the Lord your God gives it into your hand, kill all the men in it. Take as booty only the women, children, animals, and all that is in the city, all its spoils. Use the spoils of your enemies which the Lord your God has given you. . . Only in the cities of these peoples that the Lord your God is giving you as an inheritance. Do not leave alive anything that breathes" (Deuteronomy 20:10-17).

"Kill every male among the little ones, and kill every woman who has known man intimately. But spare for yourselves all virgin maidens" (Numbers 31:17-18).

"I will send my terror in front of you. . . you shall utterly demolish them and break their pillars in pieces" (Exodus 23: 23-24, 27).

The New Testament attributes the following statements to Jesus:

"Do not think that I have come to send peace on Earth. I did not come to send peace, but a sword. I am sent to set a man against his father, a daughter against her mother, and a daughter-in-law against her mother-in-law" (Mathew 10:34-35).

"I say to you that to everyone who has, more shall be given, but from the one who does not have, even what he does have shall be taken away. As for my enemies who do not want me to reign over them, bring them here and kill them in my presence" (Luke 19:26-27).

There are dozens of other verses that, if removed from their context, favor violence. Some violent Muslim groups misuse the Qur'anic verses just as various violent Jewish and Christian groups have used them to justify their causes. The Crusaders used them against Muslims and Jews. The Nazis used them against Jews. Serbian Christians used them against Bosnian Muslims, and Zionists regularly use them against Palestinians. David Koresh, Jim Jones, and Baruch Goldstein all relied on religious texts to justify their violence.

Much like you preach that "Christians who claim to be Christians don't act against god's word," so Muslims can (and do) claim the same about Muslims who kill in the name of Allah. Face it, you guys are on the same side of the street, you just don't realize it yet...

So I ask you again: within this accurate context of the preachings of the Quran, do you still hold issue with him swearing on the Quran? As pointyed out, the bible and the quran both have their passages promoting violence...

It's Always Best to Start at the Beginning...

Let me preface this post with the following disclosure: these are parts of a recent e-mail exchahged between various friends and myself. I have changed some things and deleted others to not only ensure their privacy, but because there were some things I wanted to share here with all you fine readers as well, but never having found the chance to type them out till just a little while ago (and some things I have shared before but this is simply in a little more detail...). So I apologize now for any abrupt text flow, but there's a reason.

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A person asked me: [...] you said you wouldn't be able to remain "faithful" in a relationship because of being gay....was that really all there was to it?

No, that was pretty much it. It wasn't _____, it was me (and in this case, that isn't a line! :D) I don't know exactly what _____ has been going through (although I can make some educated guesses), but _____ has nothing to feel guilty about or otherwise guilty of... I knew in my heart of hearts that, as much as I loved _____, it wasn't going to work. Not because of what we ever did or said, but basically because of who I was. And as I had been that way for as long as I can remember, and was able to hide it (quite well, if I do say so myself; so much so that most of the time I wouldn't even admit it to myself). But the truth of a person always comes out eventually (just look at Ted Haggerty for a great example of what the future could have been!! Scary!!!! And not just because he could have used a nose job worse than Sarah Jessica Parker!!) and I knew who I was and what I was. That's pretty much it, and I didn't want to hurt _____ or anyone like that. And though I knew there would be hurt, it was better to do it then before we were married, we had kids, and all that jazz.

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Someone recently asked: What turned you off toward God? I was looking through some old letters and found one from you and it completely floored me how much you've changed.
The death of ones faith in a deity is never an overnight process. It was years in the forming and making; my mom still thinks it's just because I'm gay (actually, she jokes about it and calls me "happy" LOL), but the two are not actually in any way related. It's actually quite easy for most people to justify it in scripture (too easy, actually). But after some studies and a lot of reading on varying topics and points of view about religion in general and Christianity as a whole, about four years ago I just stopped believing. It's not even about god (although most fundies will claim it's about being mad at god or some other such nonsense), it's just isn't rational or logical to me any longer. One could go into the psychosomatic claims of crutches or superstition, necessity versus niceties... I personally don't care one way or another what a person does or doesn't believe, but for me, it was more of a clinical, logical conclusion after studying it and reading about it... I know this sounds very general... It's hard to explain to someone the process of a death in faith. There were years of hurt, the pain of trying to analyze the very foundations that had been my life, the things I had taken for granted, things you had learned and been told, and how that jived not only against what one personally observes and sees, but in how others bring to the table their knowledge, experiences, and observations...

In short (I know, too late!), it wasn't something I decided one morning when I woke up drinking my Folgers... It was gradual; it was a slow build up; it was necessary for me on my personal journey through life. That's about the best way I can think to put it right now...

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Someone asked: Do you have any thoughts of ever being married with a woman or will you continue the path you have chosen?
No, I will never marry a woman, as far as I know. I could beat around the bush and such, but there's no reason to do that. The path I have chosen, as you put it :), is basically all about freedom. I lived a lie. I've been there, tried to deny who I am. It took years to wade all through what I believed, what I felt, what I thought--a great deal of analyzing, tears and fights with my family, and gradually, a contentment. I would say a "happiness," as that's what most people seem to aim for in life, but happiness isn't an end, just an emotion that functions as a means and a mechanism for sharing a journey. But I have found contentment. I no longer war with myself, I no longer cry myself to sleep some nights, I no longer question things that, in the end, are in my opinion meaningless. We all have this journey to walk, this life none of us ever asked for, and I will no longer live my life based on what others think it should or shouldn't be. Am I "right" in all the decisions I have made? I don't know, honestly. But as we continue in our lives, we all must make decisions not based on what we think we know, but on what we feel is right, as a lot of times, what feels right and what we know is right are in conflict. But knowledge never brings contentment, except as perhaps another means to an end. Knowledge, like happiness, is never an end. And while knowledge, as we typically understand the term, has allowed me to greater explore the world, it has also allowed me to examine what I feel, or what I think, and conclude what could be the right thing for me. I know it doesn't work for everyone--but that's their decision to make, not mine.

I will no longer pretend to be someone I am not; I will no longer value my life or my actions by someone else's rules. Some may (and do) take issue with that, but it's not their life either. I've made peace with that (even though some of them haven't), but it's not up to me to pretend to be something to make them happy. And as much as it hurts sometimes to disagree with someone you love, sometimes there isn't any room for compromise; and sometimes, people need to learn where their lives and their expectations for their life ends, and where others begins... Know what I mean?

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SHIFTING GEARS TO ANOTHER CONVERSATION KIND OF IN THE MIDDLE...

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I know the trepidation. [...] I was a wreck. I didn't know which way was up. But I had to start somewhere. So I started at a church geared towards gays and lesbians (go figure :D) No, this isn't when I met Rich, although it was at the same place. And as I made friends, I started getting a feel for where they were coming from, and how they related to things I had always felt but never put into words. I eventually started going out with a guy named Rob. My family still didn't know at this point. I was living in Allentown, far enough away that they just couldn't drop by, but close enough that we could call and visit.

He was great. We were together about a year when he was diagnosed with leukemia. His ex-wife came by and took the kids, said she didn't want them around degenerates, especially sick ones (he had shared custody). She was convinced he had AIDS (even though he didn't, of course). Already sick, he was even more devastated. My family knew I was going through something, but since I felt I couldn't share it with them, they could only stand by helplessly as they watched me lose weight, disappear for days as I tended to Rob as he got sicker... Perhaps some of them didn't notice, I don't know.... They were barely a blip on my radar at that point...

One day, I went to Rob's apartment after work--and he wasn't there. I panicked, of course. Was he at the hospital? Did he die? What the hell was going on?

He had actually moved. To Florida. For a chemotherapy center. He didn't tell me--he didn't want me to watch him die in case it came to that. (Enter many long days and nights...; BTW, I saw him a few years later, and after crying, then bitching him out, then crying some more, we have remained friends)

Finally my sister, Sylvia, asked me out to dinner at our old hang-out spot, Michael's Diner, in Douglassville. She was still dealing with the fact that she had ___________________, feeling like a heal, like she had done something wrong (even though she hadn't). She pretty much bared her soul that day at the diner, and I did likewise. It wasn't what I had expected, of course. It felt weird to admit it to someone in my family, of course. And I had heard the horror stories. I knew people who had been kicked out of their homes. Been called names, been close to being killed by their parents, some who hadn't spoken to anyone in their families for years, one even decades, all because of being gay. Some began to not care about their lives anymore, now that their family was gone, had told them they were worthless, basically, whether under the guise of religion or not; some had committed suicide over the anguish and heartbreak. But most grew stronger, became more sure of themselves; some decided to live. How would my family react? What road would I end up on?

And if any of you know my sister, you know word travels faster than lightening. It wasn't long before I was getting calls; Mike (my younger brother) was cryptic (and drunk) when he called at three that morning: "How come we never talk Jason?" Me: "What? It's three in the morning..." Mike: "Yeah, I mean, but, you talk to Sylvia, how come you can't talk to me?" I told him I'd call him back later and hung up. My siblings reached out.

My parents... well... my mom called: "Don't tell your father. I don't know what he'll do. Just--let me tell him when I think the time is right." I argued, but only half-heartedly. This is where a waiting game began. What will they say?

It took a few weeks, but once my father found out, all he said was, "Are you still being stupid?" BTW, those words are going to haunt me for the rest of my life. Years of anguish, pain, death, tears-- and all he can say is "Are you still being stupid?" It took a long time for me to forgive dad for those words...; "forgiving" and "forgetting" are two very different things....

And it took years longer for things to resemble normal family relations again. But it did happen; I'm a lucky one, I know. Not all have such luck. Now they can joke about it; hug Rich and tell him they love him too; joke about things again. Are there still things that seem taboo? Sometimes, but when all is said and done, we are closer for me being honest; we have more respect for one another; we are more open about our feelings about everything; we have shown that we are still a family...

I imagined the worst, of course. We had grown up very religious, very stringent. My grandfather was a Baptist preacher, for crying out loud! Our lives revolved around church every waking day; we prayed together; we had watched as my great-grandfather had kicked an uncle out for being gay; we were very god-centric... I had every reason to believe that I would be one of the unlucky ones... But I wasn't.

Families can surprise you. Friends, too. The ones I thought would be the most tolerant and loving turned out to be some of the least; and some I didn't even consider friends, just acquaintances, turned out to be some of my best friends today. All the decisions we make, all the paths we chose--honesty about life shows true colors in all walks of life--in the truth teller and in the truth listener.

And though I have some mental and emotional scars--they are also some of my best memories... I wouldn't trade my path for the world, for on my path, I met my true family, my true friends, and my true love. No conditions, no precepts, no barriers--love. That doesn't mean we always agree, but it does always mean we will respect each other, and support each other, and be there for one another.

Coming out was the best thing I ever did. I couldn't even imagine still being there today--but I know that also isn't for everyone. It's scary--terrifying, actually, in more ways than anyone else can imagine. But it is also liberating. I came out knowing I could have been banished from my home, my family--and my gamble paid off. Not everyone's does.

[...] I thought I knew the conditions of my families love--I thought I knew what the rules would end up being--they disappointed, but in a good way!

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Hmm, that was a little less choppy then I thought...

Forgiveness... For Some...

Have you heard of the latest rage? It's gripped the YouTube community, creating quite a stir among those who feel that "blasphemy" is the end-all be-all of religious banality: BlasphemyChallenge.com.

To summarize: in short: it challenges anyone who doesn't believe in god to post publicly that they deny the holy spirit, which in Jesus' words was the only sin that couldn't be pardoned by god (I wonder why just him? Is he really the true head of the so-called trinity? Or just the most sensitive?):

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HS: Oh! Gasp! God the father, make them stop! They denied me! Me! I think I might cry!
GtF: There, there, now, Holy Spirit. We'll put a stop to that little nastiness. Jesus, yo, kid, say something to the effect of, "Do that again and you'll be hating life!"
Jesus: But, father, isn't that a bit much? I mean, sticks and stones and all that stuff?
HS: What did I ever do to them? Sob, sob...
GtF: Are you-- are you back talking me?! You want to hang on that cross again boy! Cause one more word out of you--
Jesus: No! No, please, not that again! Okay, let me see here...
HS: Where's the Kleenex's! Oh, goodness, my mascara's starting to run... I must look like a wreck!
GtF: There, there, it'll be alright. We'll make those cold-hearted bastards pay. Jesus will take care of it...
Jesus: I just have to bend space and time to reinsert myself soemwhere to make that happen... Hah! I know, I'll include it right about.... there! Okay, Dad, Mom, it's done. Now anyone who hurts your feelings will pay the consequences...

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Of course, to an atheist, it's really just an opportunity to piss off fundies. I mean, if you don't subscribe to the Sky God philosophy, you don't feel your "soul" has any chance of living beyond you earthly body anyway, so you really aren't endangering yourself or your soul. There's really no challenge to it. It's something done for shits and giggles.

To a fundie, however, this is The Big One. The end-all be-all of god's patience with his creation, the one thing from which there is no point of return. To them, this is the ultimate taboo, the greatest sin you could possibly even consider (which, really, makes you wonder why homosexual marriage and abortion are the real lightening rods... You'd think they'd first wanna pass a law that states: "Thou shalt not deny the existence of the Holy Ghost, Holy Spirit, or any other name which here-to-for shall be construed to have any reference to a ghostlike entity which may or may not be interpreted to be one of the holy trinity.") I mean, if it's really the only thing that can't be forgiven by a supposed being who wants to see that none should perish...

Oh, the ironies...

This "sin of sin" is based on this verse: Mark 3:28-29 [...] all the sins and blasphemies of men will be forgiven them. But whoever blasphemes against the Holy Spirit will never be forgiven.

So what does it mean to "blaspheme" you ask? Well, Webster puts it this way:

1. to speak of or address with irreverence
2. REVILE, ABUSE

Yep, that pretty much sums it up: most of you fundies think I'm going to hell. One not need to peruse deep here to find a little bit of that going on. But really, it isn't really much of a threat if one puts no belief in that prescription to begin with, am I right? It's almost like saying to you, "If you don't believe that pigs can fly, you will go to hell!" Hmm, well, let's see: I've never seen a pig fly; I haven't had any kind of logic or reasoning or epiphanies to suggest that they might fly; casual observation of pigs will show throughout years of co-habitation with man through the centuries they never have flown; and unless evolution takes a drastic turn (which is always possible, though not probably in this instance), they won't be flying for the next thousand or so years. So I'm going to hell if I don't believe pigs do currently and have always flown...

See what I mean? Sigh... some of you aren't going to get this, but that's not my problem...

One little line near the bottom of the article really made me laugh out loud, though:

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God could not be reached for comment.

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Typical... Apparently he's too busy talking to Jerry Falwell about how best to re-enact what Jesus would do in assassinating Hugo Chavez...

Till next time...

The Ghosts of Years Past...

So in not keeping with the spirit of looking toward a bright and shiny new year, it seems the past has reared up its head (and really, why do people always think it has an ugly head?) and presented me with a buffet of my past to peruse and pick through: ex-girlfriend? ex-friend from bibble college? youth group student? cousin?

MySpace is a veritable cacophony of lost souls reaching out into the ether world of wires and connections, seeking out those with whom you may have unfinished business, a simply longing to reconnect, or a curious fascination with unknowns throughout the world...

Let's travel, my friends: Back... back toward... The Bible College Days!!! (insert sounds of crashing thunder as lightening slashes the sky and winds howl through dead trees overarching the window as I hunch over the computer...)

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Okay, perhaps a little over-the-top; it's in my genes.

How did this start? What are the circumstances surrounding the mysterious appearance of a Jason Hughes MySpace page?...

As always, it starts with a kiss... (SCCREEECCHHH!!! No it didn't!) Okay, fine, but reality is, as usual, a lot less dramatic. It started with a friend who had one and wanted to show me all the "cool" stuff you could do... I was unimpressed but left it up so people could find this veritable Project of Life site...

First it was the usual suspects: a sister, a cousin, a few others whom you currently know who have been sucked in to MySpace world without apology or regret. Things appear to be going swimmingly. You stop by once a month just to check messages and whatnot...

And there it was. Who is this? you ask yourself when you don't recognize the sender of the latest "friend request." (I'm one of those, I think rare, persons who only add people I actually, physically know as "friends" in the MySpace realm. Not quite sure why, but I think the term "friend" or "buddy" isn't something you just get for having the knowledge of dialing up a computer, but a knowledge and conversation in getting to know someone...) I investigate--it's a young lady who used to be in my youth group at church (whom my one sister cares nothing for, but that's another story). She's doing great, repopulating the earth and all that with four kids, whatever. She was always full of energy and fun, so it's no surprise that her life (thus far) seems to be great. I'm happy to hear from her; it brings back some fuzzy warms and remembrances of a simpler time, a gentler time, when the lion laid down with the gopher and made loafers....

And that's how they get you. You think, "Hmm, I wonder who else is on here that I could look up?" And so I start typing in random names of people whom I used to be fairly close to, find a few, read up on them, don't initiate any contact as I haven't seen these people in years and most times there's no need to open those windows when they've been nailed shut, know what I mean?

Then I found hers. She had been a great friend. We had been planning on getting married. And I kept telling myself, This is the one; she's awesome, fun, caring, yadda yadda yadda... But I knew in my heart of hearts she hadn't been The One. She was female to begin with. I knew even then that I was gay, although I still hadn't admitted to myself what all that entailed. But I knew as we were together longer that I could never be faithful. Not all of my needs were met; I'm not sure what all the ins and outs are of psychological needs and desires and how that relates to the plumbing one is born with, but I just knew: This won't work...

I knew I had hurt her badly, although she seemed to close up in on herself and handle it well, but I didn't know for sure as we definitely drifted apart... Not only were we five or six states away on the Atlantic coast during summer break, but just the revelation of the truth in a new and real form was a wedge not easily overcome...

I stared at her MySpace. I left. I went back a few days later. Should I say hi? Should I let her know I'm okay and ask about her? Should I ignore it? I didn't want to ignore her... She had been (and still is, from what I gather) the same girl who was my best friend for a few years; still had that same ready smile on her lips in her photo... Would this only reopen wounds? Would she be glad to hear from me?

I went back and forth, back and forth; the commercialization of finding people made me uneasy. Was this an impersonal way to reconnect? Should I even do so? But I did it; I sent her a small letter letting her know I had seen her MySpace and just wanted to say hi, and that she needn't write back if she didn't want to.

And The Wait began. You know The Wait. It's always there, hanging out in the back of your mind, wanting to check your email at every waking moment; Did she get the email? When did she last log on? I'll be at peace if she at least acknowledges it enough to say "Buzz off!" But as weeks went by, The Wait became less and less, and soon I forgot about the message I had sent. Not entirely, of course, but enough so that I was no longer expecting any kind of note or acknowledgement, and life remained as it had always been: Enjoyable.

Then three nights ago, just after a lot of folks had finished celebrations of the winter solstice in its many varying forms (although we have only now just finished Phase I and Phase II of our festival of Dec.-Jan.), there was the telltale note in my inbox: "You have received a new message from ______ on your MySpace."

I stopped. I just looked at it. Should I open it and read it? Is it good or bad? Was she glad or sad to hear from me? I stop again.

I need to first let my sometimes jealous and paranoid freak of a husband know about this. (Love you Rich! :D; he'll get me back for this later, I'm sure...) So I say:

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Me: Rich, I just got an email from an old college girlfriend.
Rich: A what?
Me: A girlfriend? From college? You know, like a boyfriend, but without a penis?
Rich: (Wry look.) What does it say?
Me: I dunno. I haven't opened it yet. I just didn't want you to think I was hiding anything from you or whatever. Just wanted to let you know before I opened it.
Rich: You're weird. Read the email!
Me: You aren't upset?
Rich: You haven't read the email yet...
Me: So you're okay with me reading this email...
Rich: Is she trying to talk you into running off and leaving me with a dog and no pet-support payments?
Me: I dunno.
Rich: Well, if she does, let me know. Then I'll get jealous. Until then...
Me: (I shake my head, mildly amused at his "okayness.") I love you.
Rich: Love you, too.

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So after that little delay in which I guess part of me hoped that he would rage and I could blame him for reclosing that book, I clicked it open...

Incredulity (but in what I suspect is a good way); Happiness (I think); and a "contact me" request. All very simple and straightforward. I didn't know what I was expecting, really. Anger definitely. Some bitterness perhaps. Maybe a demand for an apology, but that wouldn't be like her either.

And then two more messages from people I haven't seen for years. Apparently there's some sort of gossip column going around now about the Lost Gay Sheep of Bibble College. A lot of hi's and how are ya's. I'm assuming the ones who've read my profile and saw "Gay" there either decided to ignore it, or just don't care; I hope it's the latter. It had been a real upheaval and point of contention with a lot of folks when I left bibble college; there were bitter memories with certain people there.

So I start this New Year, this 2007, with memories and people of the past; and I say to myself, They must be compatible with the people of my life now. Thirteen years changes a lot of things; and some things wouldn't change if Zeus himself rose from the depths and demanded a game of Monopoly with every deities' spokesperson on the earth. But if nothing else comes from this speaking to the ghosts of the past, I know one thing: I tried. Much like Ebeneezer who needed to go back to find his decent humanness, I know that I am traveling with those ghosts now. In search of something? Not that I know of, but perhaps a little more compassion for people who chose different life paths at that point in our lives. And maybe perhaps reconnect with a friend or two. And, maybe, just maybe, we'll manage to bridge a divide that seems to divide our nation: the bibble versus real life.

Here's to a bright and happy New Year! May your ghosts of the past do nothing but uphold you, love you, and teach you how to make every year greater, and reaffirm your zest and zeal for life on our rock! Life is all we have--here's to making 2007 one of the best!