Catholic, Gay, and Feeling Fine, Thanks
It’s not pretty, folks, but you knew it was going to show up here sooner or later, right? I’m talking about — I really don’t like the word — the big M, solitary vice, M-A-S-T-U-R-B-A-T-I-O-N. Whew, that wasn’t so hard! Back when I was a wee lad, I glommed onto the fact that you didn’t…
I remember what it was like, being terrifyingly, nightmarishly depressed. I remember one morning in college in particular. I was 19, and had just fallen for someone, call him M., harder than I’ve ever fallen for anyone before or since. I remember waking up, and feeling the freedom of that split second before you remember…
Yes, maybe. Anyway that is the point pondered in Mark Shea’s recent and sort of Chestertonian post over at NCR. Excerpt: The Church recognizes that sex is a sign, not the reality. It is sacramental, but it is never proposed as the sacrament of the altar…That’s not because sex is impure. It’s because sex is…
I spent a good chunk of the morning and afternoon soaked in brake fluid, gear oil, and sweat. I wanted to tell you about that mainly because it makes me sound awesome. I’m not especially mechanically inclined, but I am fairly cheap, and I won’t deny that working on my motorcycle1 makes me feel like…
A reader recently asked what I think of reparative therapy — therapy aimed specifically at getting the gay out, so to speak. I’m not too sure. I’m not a fan of the name, first of all. All therapy is reparative therapy, ‘cuz we’re all broken,1 so calling this kind reparative therapy is a little like…
[The first of a proposed series.] I was angry with my friend; I told my wrath, my wrath did end. I was angry with my foe; I told it not, my wrath did grow.1 I was sixteen the first time I told anybody. I went to confession to Fr. T, who’s known our family for…
A couple of years ago I went to confession to Fr. B, an older priest with a slight New York accent, a pronounced shuffle, and a curmudgeonly demeanor. I explained — I hate the sins that take explaining — that I had put myself in a not-very-good situation. I was at the apartment of a…
I like arguing. The more I’m surrounded by liberals, the more conservative I start talking. The converse is also true. I don’t, for example, have any great love for the Novus Ordo Mass in particular, but surround me with traddies and you’d think I came straight from Steubenville.1 This isn’t a great character trait. I’d…
Pretty soon here I’m going to slip up. I’m @stevegershom on twitter, I’m steve.gershom on gmail, but I’ve got “real” accounts on both of those places, too. This has been happening to me in meatspace, too, and not just since I started blogging here. I was at a party recently where a couple of gay…
Already I’m getting tired of this anonymity thing. I keep wanting to post on facebook to all my friends, about how excited I am about the new blog, about how many good conversations are likely to come from this. Also about how little prepared I feel to be anything like an authority on the subject,…
