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me, Amberle. You didnt have to and I appreciate that."
I began to nibble at my food. There were some things I wanted to ask, but I didnt know if this was the time. I looked up and her eyes were on me. They seemed to bore right through me.
"Youre wondering why I go, arent you?" she said softly.
My reply stuck in my throat. She flashed a knowing smile.
"I wonder that a lot myself."
"Why the Catholic church?" I blurted out. "Why not one thats more . . ."
My voice trailed off.
"More what?" she asked, an impish grin on her face. "More gay?"
I was relieved that she could at least find something funny in this conversation. "Well . . . yeah."
She shrugged. "I grew up Catholic. Its not something you just give up. Theyre not so bad . . . despite what you think about the Pope."
I blushed and looked away.
Neither of us spoke for a long while. I searched for the right words. "I just dont know that I could stick around people who condemned me or my lifestyle. How can you go to a church that says that the most basic part of your life is a sin?"
Had I just pushed my luck with McKayla too far?
She had a thoughtful look and smiled reassuringly at me. "Were all sinners. Every one of us. If not for being a homosexual, then for coveting or stealing or whatever. Our lives are filled with sin, and it is only through the Grace of God that we are saved. I am reminded of that Grace every time that I go to church. I guess I could go to a different church, but there is something . . ."
Her gaze grew distant for just a second.
"Theres something comforting about the rituals and liturgy of the Catholic Church," she continued. "Ive been worshiping that way all my life. Some people think that our services are staid and boring and not very contemporary, but I like its regularity. I like that I know when to stand up, sit down and sing. Sometimes . . . sometimes, I think that predictability is what has kept me sane . . ."
I reached out and touched her hand, wondering how much she was going to open up to me today. I wanted to let her know how much I appreciated the trust she was showing in me.
For a second she was silent, as if lost to a memory. Then she blinked and was back in the present. "I go to that church because theyre actually pretty friendly towards gays and lesbians. Oh, not openly, Father cant come out directly in opposition to the Pope, but for the most part, that parish is much more open-minded than mainstream America would like you to believe about Catholics."
"So why does the church so vehemently oppose homosexuals?" I asked. "Not that I want you to speak for Catholics everywhere."
McKayla chuckled. "Why does any church oppose homosexuality?"
I shrugged.
"Because every church is one generation away
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from extinction," she replied. "If you are a church—Catholic, Methodist, Mormon, Muslim, whatever—whats the best way to make more Catholics, Methodists, Mormons or Muslims? You make more. Churches have always relied on raising young people in the faith to serve as the next generation. Conversion will bring a few new members, but for the most part, the way most churches propagate themselves is—pardon the expression—by breeding more."
"Why does that make gay people a threat to civilization?" I asked.
"It doesnt," McKayla replied. "Thats what makes gay people a threat to the church, not civilization. Whats the one thing straight people can do that gay people cant?"
"Have babies."
"Exactly," she smiled, seeing that I was catching on. "The Catholic church believes that the sole purpose of sex is to make more babies. Thats why they oppose abortion, birth control and homosexuality. All of their arguments revolve around making more Catholic babies to perpetuate the church. In the sixties, there were a handful of churches that advocated celibacy for all their members. They died out . . . literally. Not only did they not make more members, but who wants to go to a church where you have to give up sex?"
We both shared another laugh.
"So why do some Catholics not mind homosexuals?" I asked.
"I guess they feel that the world is already over-populated," McKayla replied with a smirk. "God made us in His image. That includes people who are black, people who are white, people who like dogs and people who dont like sushi. And it includes gays and lesbians. God loves me, despite all my flaws and no matter who I have in my bed."
She squeezed my hand.
"When you hear people say, God hates fags and other shit like that, theyre not speaking for God," my lover said, "Theyre speaking for themselves. Theyve read His Word and have interpreted it one way, but you can use the Bible to justify just about anything."
"Like what?" I said. Not only was McKayla beautiful, but she was smart, too.
"People have used the Bible to justify slavery, misogyny, you name it. And lately, homophobia." Our breakfast was forgotten. She took my hand and led me to the back of her house, past her bedroom.
In one of the spare rooms, she had set up a small private office. In another, there were stacks and stacks of books. McKayla is a neat person. Think of every anal-retentive accountant stereotype you know and thats her.
But this room was unlike any other in her house. Along one wall, a set of mahogany bookshelves stretched from the floor to the ceiling. The shelves were filled with books of all types, but that wasnt all. On the floor, on tables, in boxes. Books were everywhere. They werent messy; everything was in an ordered pile, but it seemed to me that she was reading books faster than she could find space on the shelves for them.
She went straight to the desk and picked up a book with a well-worn leather cover and pages
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