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THE CRUCIFICTION:

They awaken when their alarms sound at 6am like it did every single morning for every single person in every single unit in every single block in every single settlement when they drank their glasses of enriched water and power smoothies just like everyone else did and went out to the courtyard just like everyone else did to perform their daily calisthenics and recite their allegiance to the rules and rulers who made them overseen by their guardians who were overseen by their security who were overseen by their protectors where they would from there file into the Creatoriums where products were produced processed packaged and shipped to be serenely consumed by all the peoples.

They used to remember thinking but now it’s no longer necessary and with the enriched water it is no longer possible after the cataclysmic campaigns of the last decade when it was decided that facts no longer mattered so therefore truth no longer existed so therefore thinking was no longer necessary but in fact futile so therefore not only sterile but dangerous and therefore behavior alone was substantial and adherence to action alone was useful.

For a while they motivated the relinquishment of thought with reward but acknowledging the eruptive and disruptive power of ideas they decided when the enriched water failed like it sometimes did to punish it instead which was more immediately productive for restoring order and yield.

Their motto was “Well done good and faithful servants!” because it wasn’t thought or belief or ideas that worked but behavior and since thought or belief or ideas were obviously fruitless for their souls then they were manifestly vain for their lives so they were absolutely outlawed for their mutual benefit because the tranquility of thoughtlessness far outweighed the pain of embracing aborted dreams and stillborn ideas.

Because independent thinking was so divisive and ideas were so dissentious they were provided helpful guidelines on what to talk about and how to talk about it making everything utterly sublime in comparison to the contentious years preceding.

Make Do Serve Report with Contentment is all that mattered so accordingly leave it to the leaders to worry think plan protect and they are left to behave and produce peacefully without thought for the morrow for they claimed it was all they did anyway because the value of thought and ideas had long since passed and they were just living in the residue of a dream that only brought suffering since expectations and the dreams that birthed them was what caused pain so the elimination of them completely was the key to a fruitful life and a productive society.

When books were read religion sedated the masses now instead being sedate is the religion of the masses and all together they no longer need dream and question and doubt and fear as they march through the regulated routines of their untroubled days.

Free of thought they were free to obey and peace ruled over the land.

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THE CRUCIFICTION:

I used to go to this restaurant on Friday nights because for entertainment they had a magician. He would walk around the tables and perform his tricks.

He was simply amazing. He would pull things out of the air, make things disappear, and perform tricks that drew gasps from the patrons. Including me!

Now, I must be clear… I never really believed in magic. But he was certainly magical. His routine was unbelievable. I was really drawn to it. Of course or I wouldn’t have gone every Friday night for months.

But, I think it was the fifth time when he began to recognize me as a regular. It was around the same time I started to catch on to what he was doing. I caught the slight of hand. I noticed the lump in his sleeve there, the distraction of his left hand there, and the way he made people guess something he’d already prepared them to make.

It was genius!

One time when he was performing for our table, I actually mouthed, “I see what you did there!” The look on his face clearly communicated his discomfort. I don’t think he wanted me to leave, but he certainly wanted me to keep my mouth shut. So I did. I went along with the program.

So my interest shifted from curiosity in his magic to the gullibility of his audience. I loved watching them get duped time and time again. If anyone else became a regular, they played along too, just like I did.

Eventually Maestro moved on (that was his stage name). But I learned some huge lessons. For instance, people love magic. We are a superstitious lot! We like to be fooled. We also, even once we realize we’ve been gamed, will play along just for the illusion of miracle it provides. We all collude in the illusion of magic because it makes us feel good. Even when we know it isn’t true, we will hang on every magical motion and every superstitious word. We will suspend reality for as long as we can to sustain the sense of the supernatural and live in our make-believe world indefinitely.

I could tell you more, but I have to get ready for church.

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THE CRUCIFICTION:

I wasn’t sure what to think of him at first. He wasn’t one of us, even though he tried to be.

To be honest, we were sheep and he was a wolf.

There. I said it.

You might ask why we were so stupid to let a wolf into our fold. Well, because it’s mostly wolves who apply. And, as we sadly discovered, it’s hard to find a gentle caregiver and teacher. Almost impossible.

This guy seemed tolerable. It seemed like he wouldn’t harm us at least.

But sometimes things would happen. When things didn’t go his way, his eyes would flare, as well as his nostrils, and something sinister would appear over his demeanor. He would often say things that on the surface sounded pious but actually were sharp and penetrating claws of shame. At times I wasn’t sure if he was controlling us with fear or with kindness. You know… fear of repercussions if we disobeyed him and anxiety over hurting his feelings if we disappointed him. Either way… control.

It was always lie down stand up sit down measure up go here go there do this do that stop this stop that. Always. And we did it because we so wanted things to go well. We wanted this to work. We didn’t want to anger him or hurt him.

Such a delicate dance. For our own survival though.

Every once in a while one of us would disappear. He suggested that since they left us we should leave them be. But we hear rumors as to why they leave. Always their fault. But we never hear from them again. It’s as if they were devoured. Eaten up and spit out.

Do I trust him? I don’t know. From a distance maybe. I don’t want to get too close. I’ve seen what happens. You become a kind of servant, sacrificing your desires for the sake of his… I mean the community’s… needs.

Don’t judge me. Don’t we all do it… food for the machine, we surrender ourselves for the sake of the group and for the pleasure of our leaders?

I mean, it’s what sheep do best.

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THE PARABLE:

Even right away you asked yourself, “How is a gay Calvinist possible?” Didn’t you? I’ll tell you how it’s possible, being the gay Calvinist.

I knew when I was 13 I was gay. I confessed it to my youth leader. These are the steps of theological logistics he dragged me through:

He suggested I’m not gay. I just have depraved and corrupt thoughts that become temptations, and that God was allowing me to be so tempted in order to build humility and holiness in me.

So, I tried that for a while. But I had to be honest with myself. The same-sex attractions I experience aren’t a deviation from who I am, but a natural expression of who I am. A temptation is only a temptation if the appeal is made to something inherent in who I am. The temptation has to touch something within me. Right? I mean, if I didn’t have any attraction to people of the same sex, then it wouldn’t be a temptation, would it? I was gay. I didn’t become gay. I came to realize I was already gay.

I was upgraded to a meeting with the pastor.

At first I was thankful because the pastor conceded I could be gay and that it was my orientation even before I knew it. God made me gay. What a relief!

But wait.

“No,” he said, “this is not a good thing. Yes, God made you thus, but being gay is still depraved. It is not God’s perfect will, but his permissive will. You are a sinner and you need to repent. He loves you.”

“Wait! God loves me?”

“Well,” he insisted, “God loves in three ways: first, he loves everyone; then he loves the elect; finally he loves his covenant people most of all. You’re in the he-loves-everyone category.”

When I told him I’ve repented a million times to no avail, he clarified to me that no matter how much I repented, that I probably would not change because God has sealed me unto destruction, a vessel of his wrath, and that I was a living testimony to God’s righteous will and judgment.

“Wait!” I said, “Am I to understand that the sovereign God ordained me as gay and that I was bound in depravity to be an instrument of God’s wrath in order to show the world how sinners are surely condemned and punished and that I will burn in Hell forever because God’s will is perfect and his judgments are true and on top of all this I should worship him and be thankful that I am at least fulfilling his will for my life even though it’s one destined for destruction? But he loves me?”

Relieved, he said, “Yes, that’s it. In a nutshell.”

Genius. Just genius.

This too was probably predestined, but I left laughing. And gay. And he remained confirmed in his theology.

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THE PARABLE:

I have fun with it.

I go to our church leadership meetings with full intentions of testing my theory. And it always, always, always works.

This is what I do: I fool around with the women. I mean I fool around with their heads.

Our pastor is a man, of course. So I can get away with it. I haven’t told him about my game but I’d swear he plays along. He fulfills his role perfectly.

I prove that the women have no voice unless they’re the only ones in the room. If there’s a man in the room, his voice eliminates them all.

Here are a few of my tests:

1. If a woman is talking I just start talking over her. She might look shocked and stare at me while she tries to continue, but soon enough the pastor will say, “Suzie, excuse me but Peter’s speaking.” It’s hilarious.

2. If a woman gives an idea I think is half decent, I interject, “Ya, I thought about that same thing last week! Here’s how I think we should proceed with it!” I always end up getting the credit. True story!

3. If more than a few women agree on something, I will take on a very serious demeanor and say something like, “I think we really need to let this incubate for a while. Pastor, I’ll share with you later why I think it’s best to pray about this one.” Their idea is as good as dead after that.

4. If a woman is talking about something she’s really passionate about, sometimes I’ll snicker. To myself. But she’ll notice and lose her composure. Even a man would, but I love it when a woman does because it reveals her weakness and she looks, well, stupid to the men in the room.

5. I love it when a discussion gets heated. I can raise my voice and sound like I have authority. When a woman raises her voice she sounds hysterical. She loses after that.

6. Sometimes I think the women try to gang up on me… like they come prepared with attempts to put me in my place and push their ideas through. This is when I look to the pastor and say, in a pathetic voice, “Pastor, I feel ganged up on here.” He’ll usually take on his pastoral role and say something like, “Okay ladies, let’s stick to our value of respecting each other’s voices. Let Peter say what he has to say!” Love it.

7. I don’t do this often because I don’t want to come across as a major jerk, but sometimes I’ll pull out a scripture verse about how women are to serve men. I don’t make it obvious. Like, I won’t say, “You women are here to serve the men!” No! That’s a dead giveaway. Instead, I’ll say something like, “I really appreciate how you women took time away from your families… your children… to serve us in this way. To submit yourselves with such loyalty to this man of God’s ministry is really lovely to see.” You see, in that affirmation is embedded the idea that they should be at home, that their primary role is mother, that they are here to serve, that they are submitting to a man, and that it’s ‘lovely’… a feminine virtue.

If you’re a man, try it and see!

If you’re a woman, you already know all this.

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THE PARABLE:

Those who think others need it the most need it the most.

Around my cross aren’t those who understand the cost of love, but those who exact it.

It is tragic that those who know the most about me know me the least.

The only ones here are those who would ensure my kind of compassion is killed.

I’m surrounded by authorities… political because I threatened their regime… religious because I delegitimized theirs.

They are compelled to do what they do, driven by insatiable agendas.

Moved by conviction rather than compassion, they will never get it.

They don’t know what they’re doing.

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THE PARABLE:

They told me it would make me love but it actually made me despise others.

They told me it would make me wise but actually closed my mind.

They told me it would empower my life but it actually weakened me.

They told me it would feed my soul but it actually starved it.

They told me it would give me assurance but it made me insecure.

They told me it would soften my heart but it actually hardened it.

They told me it would set me free but it actually weighed me down.

They told me it would be light in the darkness but it actually depressed me.

They told me it would give me peace but it actually made me very afraid.

They told me this was because of the way I read it, but they’re the ones who taught me.

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THE PARABLE:

On Saturday I took my kid to a birthday party. I normally don’t like doing anything on Saturdays because I’m always stressed about Sunday and getting ready for it. But I went.

They had one of those inflatable jumping castles at the party. The kids had a blast.

They continually pumped air into the castle to keep it inflated. One parent tripped over the cord and accidentally unplugged the air-compressor. I was surprised how fast it began to deflate. The kids inside hardly realized it but they got scared as soon as they saw their parents freaking out. They plugged it back in and it resumed shape pretty quickly though. No big deal.

But it reminded me of church. Just watching the toy exhausted me. We work so hard all of the time just to keep the place pumped up so we can jump around inside. There’s no real purpose except to please ourselves.

I hear some churches are more like life-rafts. Now that would be worth pumping up.

I’d be willing to get exhausted for that.

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THE PARABLE:

Never answers. Never.

Here are a few theories as to why:

1. He isn’t there to answer.
2. He sucks at communicating.
3. He doesn’t care.
4. I’m doing something wrong.
5. He’s out of range.
6. Either my phone’s not sending or his isn’t receiving.
7. Your guess is as good as mine.

Hypothetical questions (if he is “there”):
What could he have done anyway?
What would he have done anyway?

Dive down and swoop me up? A dramatic rescue?

That wouldn’t be his style. (If there is a “he” and if he has a “style”.)

So, even though I get frustrated and even angry, I get it.

I think.

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THE PARABLE:

I tried to live among them.

But no matter where I went there they were.

So I went to the desert.

But no matter where I went there I was.

Same thing.