Theology of the Body 2015/12/15

"The Apostle Paul observes that the person who remains celibate for the kingdom is anxious 'to please the Lord' (1Cor. 7:32). … Of course, every Christian who truly loves God … seeks to please him. … But Paul says that the married person's interests are 'divided' by family obligations, while the unmarried person is capable of singular devotion to the kingdom.

"Division can sneak into the heart of an unmarried person, too. If a man or woman is single, but with no clear purpose — with no special dedication to the kingdom — life can seem empty. Paul is well aware of this, and advises singles either to marry or dedicate themselves fully to God. [*]

"Unmarried life can be full of trials and temptations. Instead of seeing these as setbacks, a celibate person can use these opportunities to grow closer to Christ. 'For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses …. Let us then approach the throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and find grace to help us in time of need' (Heb. 4:15-16).

…

"In his First Letter to the Corinthians, does Paul perhaps recognize only one purpose for marriage — as a remedy for sexual sin? 'Now to the unmarried,' he writes '… if they cannot control themselves, they should marry, for it is better to marry than to burn with passion' (1 Cor. 7:8-9). For Paul's full theology of marriage, we need to turn especially to his letter to the Ephesians, and the grand spousal analogy of Christ and the Church.

"…Paul suggests the sacramental nature of marriage when he says that it is a gift from God. 'Each man has his own gift from God. one has this gift, another has that' (1 Cor. 7:7). … Paul … sees the action oof grace in every Christian. Married or unmarried, we each have our own gift from God."


[* John Paul II does not seem to have the situation of the homosexually oriented in mind. In my opinion, it is unrealistic to ask them all to get married or devote themselves completely to the kingdom of God. For those who accept the traditional teaching that homosexual activity is wrong, there is the possibility of a "mixed orientation marriage," but that presents its own challenges, although there are those who apparently manage it. Still, I wouldn't recommend it to everyone. For those who do not enter into such a  marriage, celibacy seems required. But, again, I don't see it as realistic to expect all homosexual celibates to "dedicate themselves fully to God." There is a blog called Spiritual Friendship which proposes that it should be possible for those who neither marry nor dedicate themselves fully to God to have satisfying friendships in which the friends devote themselves to each other in a way that is similar to that of spouses. The blog also calls for churches to be supportive of celibates, not just regarding them as "singles" who hopefully will find someone and get married sometime. So, in trying to apply John Paul's analysis the homosexual individuals, it seems to me that there must be a possibility of intimate, non-sexually-active relationships which supply the need people have for others in their lives and which give them the opportunity to give themselves to another in love.]

Nostalgia Revisited

Today, I went to a meeting in a town less than an hour's drive from my home. It's a town I basically never thought about in the first two and a half decades of my life.

When I went to the monastery, about 45 years ago, one of my fellow pre-monks mentioned one of the college students, "Gerry," (soft "g") whom he characterized as a "happy-go-lucky kid," and I became slightly acquainted with him. I specifically recall being in a pick-up basketball game in which he was a participant. There must have been occasional other interactions, but I can't remember any specifically. Suffice it to say he knew who I was, and I knew who he was — not much more than that.

But I developed a real crush on him. I learned that he came from the town I hadn't ever thought about, and instantly I was  fascinated with it. After leaving the monastery, I occasionally found it near my route from one place to another, and I'd take the slight detour to actually drive through it. I had learned Gerry's home address from the college yearbook, and I found the street on a map, and a couple of times on my detours through the town, I actually drove down his street, past his boyhood home. By then, of course, he had graduated from college and was living somewhere else, but I still wanted to see the place. It was a fairly typical modest post WWII "cape" style house in a development of similar houses.

I don't think of him often, but when I have an occasion to visit that town, I usually remember him and drive past his street, as I did today.

After I left the monastery, I don't think I had any further contact with him, but there is still a nostalgia for him, for a friendship which I would have liked to have, but which never had a chance to develop. From the little bit I saw about him in alumni publications, I know he had a career not far from here, and there was never an indication that he had married or had children. I'd like to see him again, but I'd no more tell him of the crush I had than I would have 45 years ago. I hope we'll meet in heaven, where secrets will not be necessary.

The moral(s) of the story. You don't forget people toward whom you had a strong attraction. Even if the memories fade, they can be triggered and feelings can re-emerge.

Don't be too shy about trying to give relationships a chance to develop. As you know, I don't advocate sexual activity between people of the same sex, but I definitely do advocate friendship. Of course, you can't force someone to be your friend, but if you'd like it, you shouldn't let shyness, or fear of rejection, inhibit you. Take advantage of chances to be with people you like. Even create chances if you can. It's possible to be too pushy about it, of course; but my mistake was frequently being too cautious (except with Mike).

More Memories of 51 Years Ago, with Reconsiderations

Ian's comment on my post of a couple of days ago has got me reconsidering how I thought about Tom and about myself. What was the difference between Tom, so self-assured, and me, so worried?

I don't think it had to do with being sexually active. Could it be that he hadn't become aware of his orientation? I hadn't been aware of mine until the end of my junior year in high school, and it was only specific words from a classmate which caused the realization to dawn. If that hadn't happened, I could have entered college blissfully unaware that I was homosexual. So why not Tom? In that case it wouldn't have felt at all amiss for him to seek to be as close as possible to me (or any other object of his affection), whereas I was constantly afraid of falling into sexual sin; and, as I explain below, my fears were at least somewhat exaggerated and misplaced.

That line of thinking is reinforced by something he said when he introduced himself to me. He explained that he had a gift for recognizing holiness in others. He had seen it in a fellow student at St. Joseph's Prep in Philadelphia and had become good friends with him. Now he recognized it in me. And  it was in that context that he raised the question of daily Mass attendance. While it is possible that it was actually holiness that he recognized, I think it's more likely that it was his gaydar which he misunderstood, just as I mistook my high school crushes for simple friendship. I'm sure that he was absolutely sincere in thinking it was an attraction to holiness that he felt.

But if, despite all that, he was also aware of his orientation, then he has to have had a different take on the nature of sin. He had had the benefit of four years of Jesuit teaching in high school, where I had only had an hour a week of religious instruction. So he would probably have had a much fuller explanation of what constituted sin than I had. At that point in my life, I was very badly afflicted with scrupulosity (see also here and here). As a result, I was very much focused on avoiding sin. Perhaps even more important, I was unclear on distinguishing temptation from sin and I was unaware that sexual desire, as part of human nature, is morally neutral in itself, even though it gives rise to plenty of temptations. (This other post may also help explain my thinking at that stage.) As a result, I felt I should be suppressing all my sexual feelings as a way of avoiding temptation. Tom, on the other hand, may have already learned that it is both impossible and unnecessary to suppress sexual feelings. He may have known what I didn't learn until much later, that an intimate friendship which does not include actual sexual activity is not wrong. (Hence he saw nothing wrong in having his bed touching his roommate's.)

What if I were to meet a "Tom" today? Well, the thing is, I didn't find him especially attractive, although he was okay as a friend until he got too clinging and I got worried. But suppose there were some degree of mutuality in the attraction? If there were no more to it that, I think I'd be willing to enter into a close friendship, with the intention of keeping overt sexual activity out of it. Or suppose the feelings were of friendship without a real sexual component. Suppose I just liked the guy. Well, that's what I have with Zack, whom I hung out with several times when he lived in eastern Massachusetts and who has visited me several times since he moved away.

Stood Up

In an earlier post, I mentioned a fellow Race Committee member I call Tim. He declined my suggestion of going to concerts or shows in Boston over the winter and spring, but he's been as friendly as ever this summer.

That last of the Thursday evening races was August 30. We both had Race Committee duty on September 8, and as he was getting ready to leave after a couple of post-race beers on the club porch, he mentioned that he had so enjoyed the get-togethers with committee and racers after the Thursday races that he had come to the club on the evening of the 6th. He had been a bit disappointed that none of the other regulars had been there. So as we were leaving, I told him that I'd be there on the 13th unless it slipped my mind.

So I showed up at the club about 6:15 and checked the bar and the porch to see if he was there. He wasn't, so I went into the room where the group would gather for dinner and took a seat at a table where I'd be visible from the bar when he arrived and where I'd be able to see him if I wasn't looking at my plate at that point. I had a nice dinner of onion soup, cioppino, and salad. I finished a few minutes before 8:00 and enjoyed the mild evening on the porch for a few minutes before I headed for home.

It was something of a disappointment that he didn't show up. But there hadn't been an actual commitment on either part, just my expectation. I mustn't even begin to entertain the thought that he would have been there if I hadn't told him I would — that he was avoiding me. Maybe he had to stay late at his work, or maybe any number of other possible things kept him from coming to the club.

I'm not sure if I should even mention it to him. At most, if I see him soon, I might say something like, "I took your suggestion of going to the club on a Thursday evening, and it was nice, although not the same as on racing evenings. But it was such a pleasant evening that I should have spent a while on the porch before I went in to dinner."

Making Friends; Reading Books

Making Friends.  One of my earliest friends in blogworld is Peter. Today he posted about his frustration with someone named Dillon, whom he met and liked online. It seems Dillon has been setting times for them to meet and then backing out. I've commented on that blog, but I'd like to share something I wrote, since I think it can apply to lots of folks, not just Peter.

I wrote, "Thinking some more about this, I wonder if you aren't more likely to find someone if you first meet irl. I mean, among the many people you encounter every day, someone comes along whom you enjoy being with and who enjoys being with you. That enjoyment can be almost instantaneous — what we call 'hitting it off' — or it can develop more slowly. But either way, that first encounter doesn't come with the built in question, 'Is this someone who could be right for me over the long term' which means that any relationship can develop over time with no pressure. It can be whatever it is at any point without even having to have a label put on it, and at least for some time you don't have to wonder or ask where it is going. It's much more relaxed and natural, IMO."

Of course, everybody's personality is different, and there may be some for whom meeting people on line and then getting together in person works just fine. But I've seen a number of people write about various difficulties in trying to get a personal relationship started through the internet. So I think if you let friendships grow from acquaintances, it's easier. Some may just become friendly acquaintances. Some may become true friends. And some may become intimate friends (whether or not you refrain from sex).

In some of my more recent posts which I've labeled "friend," I've written about three people in particular: Tim, a priest, and Zack. I think it's worth noting that Zack is the only one I met on line, and that was through blogging, not a "dating service." We got together with the help of a third blogger who wanted to meet gay bloggers irl and invited both of us to go to a baseball game with him. The priest and I met when he was assigned to my parish, and we took an instant liking to each other. Tim just sort of happened along one day, and we've gradually become comfortable with each other. Earlier friends, such as Mike, Stefan, and the Bananas, also happened through unplanned encounters. So my own experience, limited as it may be, is that more or less chance encounters can work.

Reading Books.  In my recent posts with the label "book," I've told of some of my recent reading. (I'm thinking of December 4, 2011 and later.) Now I've finished, The Book Thief and What It Is Like to Go to War. The former, although fiction, draws on the experiences of the author's parents during World War II to paint a vivid picture of the variety of characters who were living in Germany at the time. The author tells of genuine heroism and of glimpses of humanity in basically unlikable people, as well as the struggle just to keep going and the tragedies that could occur. The other book tells of the feelings that soldiers experience and gives suggestions for training them to process those feelings in a healthy way and for providing support both during and after combat.


I'm more than halfway through Brideshead Revisited. I wonder how different it would feel to a straight reader. Anyway, it's a very nostalgic book to me, even though I wasn't alive except maybe at the very end of the period it covers.


Just today, I learned of The Unintended Reformation: How a Religious Revolution Secularized Society, by Brad S. Gregory and promptly went to my local independent bookseller to order it (for 50% more than it would have cost on line — but I believe in supporting local businesses when possible and trying to slow down what I call "the chaining of America"). I won't try to summarize it. You can find a brief description, with additional links, at the publisher's web page on it, and here's the review that made me want this book. This book isn't for everybody, but if you're interested in the history of the interplay of ideas and culture, you might want to consider it.

Happy New Year! — Resolution

Happy New Year to all my readers.

I never make New Year's resolutions, but this year I'm making one, only it is not anything new. It is summed up by the words often found in scripture: "Do not be afraid." My retreat director last March pointed out that I was "always looking over [my] shoulder" for fear somebody would figure me out, and that fear inhibited my actions. Actually, I had already begun to do things I'd have been too afraid to do before I began blogging and met people I liked on the internet — I had begun meeting some of them irl. But the urging of the retreat director has persuaded me that I should overcome that fear and live as I want to. I'm not planning to do anything I believe is wrong, but I hope to continue the sort of doing things that are perfectly legitimate that I've recently been blogging about and to live without the constant fear that something I do will out me. There is a limit to it: I'm not going to come out where I live and at my church. But if I can develop close friendships with guys I like, I'm going to do it, because it's what I should do, and it's perfectly alright; and if somebody figures out that I have a homosexual orientation, oh well, I'll deal with it as best I can.

Friends, or at Least, Friendly Acquaintances

     As I mentioned in the recent post titled "BTW," I want to tell you about my time at the Race Committee Holiday Party. (It was on the last Thursday of Advent, but Hannukah had started, so I guess calling it a Holiday Party is legit.) I should also tell about my evening with the priest I mentioned briefly in the third paragraph of this post.

     On several occasions, for example here, I've mentioned that I'm on the Race Committee at the yacht club I belong to. And in the same place that I mentioned the priest, I also mentioned a guy on the Race Committee. I'll call him "Tim," but don't confuse him with a blogger who doesn't use that name on the internet. He's in his late 40's, I think, and single. He started showing up three summers ago on Thursday evenings when we run some small races. For those races, we are ashore at the club, making signals to the racing boats in the harbor. So it was easy for him to join us. He seemed to be interested in talking to me, and we'd generally sit together at the meal that sailors and committee members would have after the races. After that summer he was made an official member of the Committee. He always responds promptly when I need to send an e-mail to Committee members, and last fall, when I sent one asking if anybody would be interested in sharing a table with me for dinner after a Race Committee party, he accepted almost instantaneously.

     So I've been thinking a friendship could develop. Tim was either at the party when my brother (also on the committee) and I arrived or he got there very soon afterwards. We got drinks and chatted. I was telling him about my theater- and concert-going, and he asked questions that showed real interest, I thought. I mentioned having begun my theater attendance with "The Laramie Project." He didn't know what it was so I explained. I figured that was enough of a hint to give him the idea that I was gay-friendly. But so as not to worry him if he's uncomfortable with "gaiety," I then mentioned some others, and he seemed quite interested in a couple. Just when I was ready to ask if he might like to join me sometime, a couple joined us and sat with us for dinner, and I never got the chance to ask that question. Still, I left the party convinced that he wants to be my friend. I don't think I want to officially come out to him, because he lives in this area and I need to be closeted irl, and I don't want a sexual relationship. But since he has never said anything indicating the least sexual interest in women, I think we can have an unspoken understanding. Now I've got to work up the nerve to e-mail him "out of the blue" and suggest going to the theater some time. If I don't do it reasonably soon, this season will have past, and I'll have to wait until next fall. So, strike while the iron is hot.

   Things didn't go quite so well with the priest a week earlier. There was nothing wrong. It was an enjoyable enough evening, but when he asked what I had been doing, I stupidly decided to tell him about my health scare at the end of my retreat. That got him all worried, even though I tried to assure him that it was really more a false alarm than anything else. So I never got to bring up opera and theater, as I did with Tim. Well, at least I'll probably get together with him for dinner sometime next month, and I can explore the possibility of including shows or concerts in our get-togethers.

     I guess I could sum it all up by saying that this month I made a little progress in my social life, a little progress in developing friendships, but not quite as much as I had hoped for.

Another Pleasant Evening ~or~ They Won't Let Me Come Out

In my previous post, I mentioned that I was going to have dinner with a couple of college classmates (former Bananas) and their respective wives. We spent a pleasant three hours plus at a restaurant in the town where my grandfather lived when I was a pre-teenager. The guy who I met for lunch ("Dan") a couple of months ago is the one who arranged this get together, and he chose the location because it would be convenient for the other couple. It's about an hour's drive from my home, and he was surprised to learn that I knew my way to the town, since we had come there frequently when my grandfather lived there.

Anyway, it was a nice restaurant and we talked a lot about families (the second guy's ("John") "immediate family" — children, spouses, grandchildren — numbers about 24), classmates, and our doings. John's wfe's brother is a missionary priest, and there was a lot to tell about that. John and his wife spend three months a year in Florida. Dan is slowly retiring from work as a public defender. Dan and his wife had considered going the the one-man "Moby Dick" I had attended, and I told them it it was quite good, and "Angel Reapers" — a play with dancing or a dance performance with words, about the Shakers — was good too. Unfortunately, it didn't occur to me to mention that I had been very moved by "The Laramie Project" a year earlier. Dan got me to tell about my trip to Ireland last year, including the accidents. At one point someone asked if anything else interesting happened, and I was debating whether to tell about the lad in Claremorris who admired my hat and wanted it and said he'd suck me off for it. It might somehow broach the topic of homosexuality, but it was questionable for mixed company. I hesitated too long, and someone began another topic. At another point, I was ready to start talking about my blog, but as I drew a breath someone had something else to talk about.

So, it felt almost as if they were — unconsciously — preventing me from steering the conversation toward the topic of my orientation. Even at one point, John said something that might have led to talking about homosexuality, but it didn't go that way. Maybe God doesn't want me to tell them. LOL Well, Dan picked up the check, so now I've got to invite them to dinner (and John owes us, too — or at least he owes Dan). So there should be another chance before too many years go by.

Twenty years ago, probably ten years ago, I never would have considered coming out to them. But now I feel safe about it (but not safe enough to avoid the momentary hesitations which let the occasions pass) and somehow I want them to know, for it to be not just something they can figure out for themselves but an acknowledged fact. I think seeing how attitudes in society have changed has helped change my feelings about it as has my experience in blogging — both reading what others say and writing openly about myself. I'm not afraid that they will reject me.

But out or not, this is an example of the sort of friendly interaction a celibate gay guy can have. And it may well be that if I had not been so shy, I could have enjoyed a lot more interaction with these people over the years, but I allowed our get togethers to become very sporadic. So my advice is that shy guys cultivate friendships, especially with straight people. It can be relaxing to be in a situation where there is no sexual undercurrent; and for someone who is celibate it's good to have some real friends.

Epilogue: As we were leaving the restaurant, I tried to tell Dan quietly about the lad in Claremorris and his offer for my hat, but John's wife was close enough to hear and was paying attention. So when John asked what the story was, Dan said his wife could tell him.

Retreat — March 2011 — No. 7: Results

Note: My previous posts on this topic can be easily accessed by clicking on the label "retreat" at the bottom of this post.


The "health scare" I mentioned in my previous post about the retreat interrupted the daily routine I had established. So there was no smooth carryover into my home life. Clearly, I would have had to adapt things because I'd need to shop, prepare meals, and engage in all the other things that are part of my everyday life, while making room for more time in prayer. But in reality, in the weeks immediately after my return from the retreat, there was no perceptible difference from how I had been doing before I went on the retreat. Gradually, however, there have been changes.

One thing that was very important, I think, was to create a prayer room in the tiny sewing room upstairs. This was made possible when my nephew took the futon which he had used on visits before the front bedroom became available. I brought in prayer books, a Bible, and some other books for spiritual reading. With that, I have begun to do some Bible reading after I finish my morning prayer. I am reading the book of Isaiah. When I do my evening prayer at a reasonable hour, I follow it with some spiritual reading. Right now I'm slowly going through Henri Nouwen's Can You Drink the Cup? I'd like to do more — read Pope Benedict's two volume Jesus of Nazareth, spend more time reflecting prayerfully on the things I'm already reading, follow the formats from retreat for "behold" and "Bringing Feelings to Prayer." But wile there is still progress to be made, I know that I have made progress, and I hope to continue to do so.

The other area that both my retreat director and my regular spiritual director have encouraged me to work on is what might be called my social life. If these seems a bit unrelated to spirituality, love of others, which is one of the basic commandments, normally is practiced through contact with them. Here again, there has perhaps been less progress then one could have dreamed of, but there has been progress. There have been my night at the opera, pleasant day, and pleasant evening with Zack. When he had to come to this area for his friend's memorial service, I had the nerve to invite him to stay overnight with me, which I might not have quite dared to — "What will the neighbors think?" — without the encouragement I had received. There is also a reconnection with my college classmates, which began with a lunch with one of them and will continue on Friday with dinner with him and another and their wives. I've taken a couple of little steps toward developing a friendship with a member of the yacht club Race Committee who seems to like my company. And finally, I've reconnected with a priest who used to be in my parish. We really hit it off when he was here, and we'd go to dinner every month for a couple of years after he was assigned to another parish. Eventually the dinners petered out, but I called last week, and we'll be getting together in December. I'll try to remember to ask if he likes opera. I've started going to the theater broadcasts of the Metropolitan opera since we were in regular contact, and they could furnish a good occasion for getting together (except he's not always free on Saturday afternoons or Wednesday evenings). At this point I'm not out to any of these guys except Zack, but I'd like to be out to at least the priest and the classmates. OTOH, I'm not ready just to draw a deep breathe and say, "Guess what? I'm homosexual." It's more a matter of trying to steer the conversation to a point where it becomes the question they ask or the logical next thing for me to say.

So, unlike my first retreat, which ultimately didn't seem to have any permanent effect, the one last March seems to have set me in a good direction both for prayer and for developing personal relationships.

Retreat — March 2011 —No. 4: Homosexuality and Friendship

     Rather than continuing with a chronological account of my prayer life for the remaining seven days of the retreat, I think it would be better to cut to the chase(s), and treat some ongoing topics of the retreat as a whole.

     Early on, I mentioned to my retreat director that I have a homosexual orientation. I think that in such situations, it is important for the director (as it would be for any such advisor/counselor/therapist) to know about me. It was, unsurprisingly, an important element in subsequent meetings, the more so because the aids to prayer he had given me had a considerable focus on feelings and desires.

     The two desires that I noticed were for friendship (including non-sexual intimacy) and a better prayer life. My director suggested that in my prayer, I should let my fantasies run, and ask for what I want. This seems to have led to a misunderstanding, because when I let my fantasies run, eventually they can get to a point of fantasizing about sex (as is no doubt the case with all but the most tightly repressed). When I mentioned that, the director suggested that I should ask Jesus if I should have sex with men. I took this to mean that he thought Jesus would say, "Yes." But I didn't think I got that answer from the Lord. A couple of days later he must have sensed some withdrawal on my part, because he asked if something was troubling me, and I told him that I found it unsettling that he seemed to be suggesting that God might want me to engage in gay sex. He assured me that he had not meant that, and he did not want to encourage me in that direction.

     Apart from that wrong turn, we had some useful discussion of how I had effectively shut myself off from intimate friendships for fear of outing myself, living my life "looking over my shoulder," as he put it.  One of the other priests chose a song for Mass one day in which the singer speaks of being "afraid to show the love I mean" and feeling "unfit to follow Jesus." I found that a very poignant and moving description of my life of "looking over my shoulder."

     This led to consideration of times when I had failed to take advantage of opportunities for deeper and more intimate friendships. In differing ways, these included my father, a couple of college classmates and their wives, a couple of colleagues on the Race Committee and their wives, a former pastor in my parish, the guy in college who was in love with me, cousins on Prince Edward Island, and a few others. Then I started thinking of what prospects there might be for developing the sort of closeness which would enrich my life, make it more joyful. Perhaps the best possibility is my older brother. There are a few others who might also offer some opportunities for stronger friendships than now exist. But in every case, what I need to do is unlearn the wary, self-censoring reticence which has our friendships from getting closer.

     At one point, the director asked me if I'm happy. I didn't get a chance to answer the question to him, but as I pondered it, I came up with an answer: when I'm walking downtown, I have my head held high, a spring in my step, a smile on my face, and a song in my heart. Yes, I'm fundamentally happy. Perhaps I could be happier, but I am not desperate for better friendships, as enjoyable as they might be — which, I suppose, is why I've been able to remain so cautious about letting people get close to me. But the director made the point that I can't be close to God if I can't be close to other people.

     Overall, I'd say that in this area, I gained some very useful insights into myself and my relationships with other people. Since the retreat ended at the beginning of April, I have slowly, slowly, begun to apply those insights.

Germany/Ireland — Addenda

Book.  In the Frankfurt airport on my way to Ireland, I wanted to get something to read on the plane and in restaurants in Ireland. I found a book called Have a Little Faith by Mitch Albom, who wrote Tuesdays with Morrie and a couple of other pretty good books. Of course the title grabbed my attention, and I bought it. It's the parallel stories of his writing the eulogy for his childhood rabbi (at the rabbi's invitation) and his dealings with a reformed drug dealer/addict who was pastor of a small Christian church in Detroit. It was interesting and easy to read. I guess Albom believes that there is a God who leads people to do good things (which I also believe), and that exactly how you express your belief doesn't matter as long as you have a little faith (which I don't quite agree with). By the time I got home, I had finished the book. It has a lot of interesting stories about the rabbi and the pastor and things they did and things that happened to them.

British Couple. Thursday morning at breakfast I exchanged pleasantries with a British couple. If memory serves, they were from Brighton, and some of her family had come from Monaghan. They asked if I knew of any good restaurant for dinner. I mentioned that the best I had been to so far was Andy's, where I had had dinner the previous evening (and it really was quite good). It turns out they were the couple seated near me whom I had heard complaining about slow service. So I mentioned the Westenra Arms. I think they had been there also and found it unsatisfactory. The only other place I had gone for dinner was The Squealing Pig, which was mentioned on the Monaghan website. The dining room was upstairs, the pub downstairs. The food was tasty enough, but definitely not gourmet. I was satisfied with it. So when the man asked how it was I said something like "adequate" to which he replied that when Americans say it's adequate that means it's dreadful. They seemed like nice enough people, but it's too bad that they couldn't be satisfied in places I found quite good. I think in general, when people travel "on holiday" they should be willing to accept that things won't always be like home nor "five star." And to expect anything better than the Westenra Arms or Andy's (neither of which had anything wrong with it IMO) in an off-the-beaten-track place like Monaghan is really unreasonable. I was pleasantly surprised to find anything two places that good. And Thursday evening I had a very good dinner at Master Deery's before meeting someone in the pub who was an expert on local genealogy.

Maybe delays in service seem worse when you're with someone. You have to keep a conversation going while you wait for your food, and you notice the time passing. But when you're alone and have a good book to read, you can get absorbed in it, and occasionally get distracted by the nearby family with active children or the young couple who are clearly on a date, so the time passes quickly.

Battle of the Boyne. After returning to Monaghan from Dublin on Thursday, I was walking from the bus station to the hotel. Beside the street was a small park next to a small lake. A half dozen small children were playing, along with a boy who may have been 14 years of age. Next to the park was a tourist information board with the usual maps of town and surroundings. I was looking to see if it showed the location of the Battle of the Boyne, in which William of Orange defeated James II of England, effectively securing the British throne for the Protestants. (The anniversary, July 12, is celebrated annually by the Orangemen of Northern Ireland.) As I studied the map a boy, no older than 10, asked if he could help. I said what I was looking for, and he called to the older boy. I apologized for the bother and told what I was looking for. He didn't recognize the name of the Battle of the Boyne. I explained a bit, thinking that might help. It rang no bell. I might as well have been talking about some obscure skirmish in the U.S Civil War. It meant nothing to him.

Reflecting on this, I saw it as a hopeful sign. This pivotal Protestant-Catholic battle is no longer something that is part of the everyday culture in a part of Ireland about an hour's drive from the scene and just across the border from Northern Ireland. Perhaps past hostility is finally receding into the past.

Broken Mirror. After the left side mirror got broken in Tipperary, backing up became a problem. The narrow field of vision through the rear window meant that I had no way of seeing anything behind the vehicle to the left side. At the hotel in Limerick, I had no choice but to go head-on into a parking space. Fortunately, there were no problems getting out at midmorning. But subsequently, I took care to park only in spots I'd be able to get out of by driving forward. For example, in parking lots with double rows, I'd be sure to drive through so that I was headed out of a spot.

Belonging. (I had to keep the alliteration going.) As I wrote this post I also looked through some of the earlier posts and I noticed in one of the pictures from Rothenburg you can see someone taking a picture of the Junge Schar. And it reminded me of something I realized from the first time I sat at the table with the Junge Schar. That is, thanks to their welcome, my experience went beyond what the vast majority of tourists have. They see things as outsiders, but I increasingly became a part of what the tourists were looking at. My friendship with Stefan and the others enabled me to experience things in a way that was truly special, and truly a privilege, and truly a highlight of my life. And I'm really grateful to everybody who welcomed me into the Rothenburg "scene."

But I also believe that it is possible for people who are willing to go beyond the safety of the tour group, the hotel, and such to have special interactions with people they can meet as they travel. All it takes is a willingness to talk to "the locals," a willingness to meet them and perhaps even be drawn into what they are doing. Perhaps it is unlikely to go as far as I was able to with the Junge Schar, but  good times can be shared and acquaintances and lasting friendships can be formed. Perhaps this is even a lesson that can be applied nearer to home.

Reflecting on Rothenburg

The main thing I think my experience with Stefan and the Junge Schar tells me is that it is possible for a closeted gay man to have satisfying friendships with straight guys. It's obvious that most of the people I've mentioned genuinely like me. If I lived there, I have no doubt I could be in a close friendship with some of them. Just knowing that they like me is very affirming.

On my most recent visit, most of my conversations didn't get beyond the stage of "It's great to see you. It's wonderful being back," and the like. It was only after I left that it occurred to me that I should have asked people something like, "What's been going on with you since the last time I saw you?" Then we'd have had better and longer conversations. But I never was a skilled conversationalist. Next time I'll know better.

Why haven't I made many close friendships at home, if I could make such a good start in Germany? Maybe I felt freer, less guarded, there somehow. It does seem to me that if I had handled things differently here, I could have developed some close and enduring friendships. But I spent so much time for so many years in local government that I didn't have much time for socializing. In addition, it took me a long to accept my orientation. For a long time, my natural shyness was exacerbated by my lack of self-acceptance. I felt safer in non-social settings.

I've never felt that I needed to be in a sexual relationship to be happy. I think my life so far has in fact been reasonably happy. I've had a generally satisfying career with plenty of friendly acquaintances; I've been involved in activities I've enjoyed. But I have been a loner, and if I had managed to develop a friendship with someone here like the one with Stefan, it would be even better. Of course, my life isn't over yet (as of the time I'm typing this) so maybe I can still make improvements.

Getting back to Rothenburg for a moment: their calendar of celebrations is really impressive. They have a festival of several days at Pentecost, then there's the Imperial Free City Days in September, another celebration in October, and a Christmas festival. It's a great place to be. Of course, I've only been there during these festival times, and if I lived there, the routine life would be something quite different from these peak moments. But I get the impression that the culture is still different from here. I think I could really enjoy being one of the regulars who meet at the pub.

Germany/Ireland — Sept. 05, 2010

On Sunday, after breakfast Stefan's Dad and I walked into the city to go to Mass, a distance of maybe a mile and a half. On previous visits, I've been able to follow the homily pretty well, but there is a new pastor, and he is a bit more intellectual. The vocabulary was often unfamiliar, and at times when I could catch the words, I couldn't get his point.

Back at the house, we had dinner. The vegetables, potatoes and salad, were home grown. The bouquet I bought from Uli Müller is on the table.

Stefan's dad.

Stefan's mom. A couple of Stefan's dad's paintings can be seen on the wall behind her.

After dinner, we went back into the city for the 2:30 performance of the play, "Der Meistertrunk," which tells the tale of how ex-mayor Nusch saved the city — conquered by imperial field marshal Count Tilly — by drinking 3 1/4 liters of wine non-stop on a challenge from Tilly. On our way there, we visited the Feldschmiede and saw Hannes, who had visited the U.S. a couple of years ago. Unfortunately, I don't seem to have any pictures of him, which is surprising. I thought I took some. The play is staged in the Kaisersaal — the Imperial Hall — of City Hall.

The stage in the Kaisersaal.

Stefan's wife, Petra.

Sloggi, as City Herald. He was a Hans Staudt jun. in the Junge Schar during some of my early visits.

By the way, the nicknames that many of the people have — Sloggi, Horaz, Stupfi, Geige, Erni, Texas, Kiefer — are often names that they were given when they joined the Junge Schar. Sometimes they just have a regular nickname, like Manni for Manfred, but frequently it has nothing to do with their real name. For example, Erni got his nickname because they thought he looked like the character Ernie on the children's TV program "Sesame Street."

The Junge Schar are about to take the oath to defend the city. In the green jacket, holding the flag, is Pierre, who was a new member the time I went on stage with them. "In my day" we massed on the right side.

Stefan as Count Tilly, Horaz as his Jesuit chaplain, a member of the city council, possibly Mayor Bezold. The people with large hats are a couple of the member's of Tilly's staff.

Former Mayor Nusch says he'll accept the challenge. The beaker is to his left on the table.

He begins to drink.

After several minutes, he's almost finished — to the astonishment of Tilly and his generals.

The city is saved. In red and white is Mayor Bezold's niece. If I'm not mistaken, Manni is the imperial officer behind the beaker. The standing councillors are Hans Staudt sen. (whose son was killed in the battle) and Mayor Bezold.

Curtain call. The girl with the apron is the cellarer's daughter. She came up with the idea of giving the generals a drink, which mellowed them and led to Tilly's issuing the challenge that Nusch successfully undertook. BTW, this photo shows a mistake that Stefan made. If you enlarge it as much as possible, you can see his wedding ring on his right hand. He forgot to take it off when getting ready for the play, and when he took his gloves off, there it was. But Tilly never married, and was quite ascetic. In fact, he apparently didn't usually drink wine, which is why after having some he mellowed and relented on having the councillors hanged and the city plundered and issued the challenge

After the play Stefan and I went to an area where a group called the Panduren were having their "cast party." A number of them are also former Junge Scharlers, and again it was pleasant to visit with them. After a while the Junge Schar came and joined the party. First they sang a couple of their songs. When they were singing my favorite, "Jenseits des Tales," someone motioned to me to join them, so I got to stand in the front row and sing along. It was definitely one of the high points of the weekend. (BTW, if any of my readers know the song, I should point out that the Junge Schar sing a three stanza version in which it is the damp earth that heals the young king.)

When the party wound down, around 9:00, we went to the tavern Zum Ochsen (the Ox), which is a favorite gathering spot. The place was nearly full when we got there, but Stefan, Petra, a couple of their neighbors, and I got a table. I had an excellent meal of medallions of veal with yellow chanterelle mushrooms. A half dozen or so of the Junge Schar were at sidewalk tables outside.

BTW, as I mentioned both to Stefan and his daughter, Stefan is a real "babe magnet." In his early days in the Junge Schar, he was the favorite photo object for the young girls who'd watch the Schar set up and dismantle their camp. And it seems that there are always women who want to talk to him.

I'll have some general comments on my return to Rothenburg in a subsequent post.

Germany/Ireland — Sept. 04, 2010

It was Stefan's 45th birthday. Coincidentally it was also Horaz's 45th birthday. Horaz was born a few hours before Stefan, and he was going to have a Frühschoppen (literally "morning pint") to which Stefan and I would go. By the time Stefan arrived at his parents' home it was already after noon, so I joked that it would now be a Nachmittagschoppen (afternoon pint), but he said that on one of his recent birthdays (he might have said the 40th) he had a Frühschoppen which began at 10 a.m. and ended at 5 p.m. on the next day.

At the Frühschoppen. Jürgen, in the red shirt, is having a morsel of Weißwurst, a veal sausage, with mustard. They told me I was eating it wrong by leaving the skin on, but I like natural sausage casing. Also in the picture, Manni and his wife Elke.

Stupfi, Christine, Geige's wife whose name I didn't get, Geige, and my glass of Weißbier, a slightly sour and cloudy beer made with wheat. It is the regular beer for the summer. The yard in the background made me forget that this spot is inside the city walls until we left and arrived at a familiar location also inside the walls.

Michael, Stefan, and Horaz. Michael is the only one of the guys who was not a member of the Junge Schar. As on the previous evening, people seemed to be happy to see me again, and I was certainly happy to see them.

About 3:00 Stefan and I left to see some of the happenings for the Festival. Unlike the Pentecost Festival in the spring, which is all about the Meistertrunk which saved the city in 1631, the Imperial Free City Days, celebrate centuries of history. There is a new microbrewery, but we didn't need any more beer at that point so we proceeded to the crusader knights' encampment just outside the walls in the area to the left of the Galgentor.

Eventually I was drawn to the Knights of the Holy Sepulcher, and very deeply moved by the earnestness with which a knight prayed before battle

 After putting on some of his armor, he returned to pray, this time with another knight on each side.

Then there was a battle, which the Christians lost.

 We went back inside through the Rödertor,

and found the Loser Haufen just inside the Markusbogen (St. Mark's arch), another part of the inner fortifications, like yesterday's Weisser Turm. Texas (in America, we'd probably say "Tex") is on the left, Manni in the dark jacket, and Geige far right.

Stupfi is to the left of Texas. One of their songs was "Es wollt' ein Bauer früh aufsteh'n," which tells what happens when a farmer comes home and discovers the pastor in the bedroom.

We got to the Grüner Markt about 5:00. On Friday it was empty, but now there were tables and umbrellas. We had some supper — meat with sauce, bread, and beer. The Spielmannszug had about half the square roped off, and they played some of their music, before having some supper.

The Junge Schar arrived, with Uwe, made up as the bloodied messenger, in the lead. They set up in front of the food stand, visible in the first two shots, and performed a few of their songs. If you click twice on the second photo, you can read the menu. If you know German and German food, you can understand it.  All prices are in euros.

The Feldschmiede (field smithy) was at the north end of the square, opposite the food stand. The blacksmith in the first picture is the man who made the candle holder that Hannes gave me after his visit. In the center of the second picture, the pointed thing is the item he was working on it the first picture.

The city herald has mustered some musicians to accompany him on his rounds.

The best place for viewing the fireworks on Saturday evening is the Tauber River valley below the city on the southwestern side. But we were a bit lat and Stefan was afraid we could not find a good spot. So instead we went to the Criminal Museum, where he knows the janitor, and were permitted to join about twenty rather distinguished looking people in the garden, which is adjacent to the city walls. There was an opening if the trees which afforded a good view of the fireworks.

In addition to the fireworks, they have flares, which give an impression of the city in flames. Here's a view of the Criminal Museum from the garden.

I was back to Stefan's parents home about 10:30, and had a bit of a snack and some halting conversation with them. And so to bed.

Germany/Ireland — Sept. 02-03, 2010

I left home around 11:40 on Thursday, arrived at the airport about 12:15 for a flight to Dulles International airport (my first time there — nice countryside). My flight to Frankfurt left at about 6:30 p.m.

I arrived Frankfurt about 7:30 Friday morning (=1:30 back home), picked up my rental car, and left the airport about 8:40. Stefan had warned me that there was a lot of construction work on the autobahn. It had slowed him a lot when he brought his daughter home after her trip to England. So I figured I'd be lucky to get there by coffee time (4:00 p.m.). There were many stretches where the roadway was narrowed and traffic speeds limited to 60 km/h (under 40 mph), but I managed to stay in the left lane and, going at about the speed limit, passed a number of vehicles with inches to spare on either side. (Remember this when we get to Ireland.)

With a 40 minute stop at the Rasthaus im Spessart, I arrived at Rothenburg at about 11:30, about 4 hours earlier than I had expected with the threatened delays and hardly longer than other drives between Frankfurt and Rothenburg. (At that point I had been in transit about 30 hours.) I left the car in a lot outside the walls and walked around for a while taking pictures. (Click on pictures to enlarge.)

Galgentor (Gallows Gate) from outside the walls. On the tower, you can see a gold colored shield with the imperial eagle, because Rothenburg was an imperial free city. Below and to the left is a shield with the Rothenburg arms, a red base with two red towers on a white background.

The street in from the Galgentor leads to the Weißer Turm (White Tower) which was part of the earlier fortifications, when the city was much smaller.

City Hall, east facade. The city hall has two parts, an older, gothic portion, and this newer, renaissance part. Notice the onion domes. They're not just found in Russia. The tallest, white, tower is on the end of the older part of city hall. The American banner at the left end of city hall was not there in my honor. It is just the first of a number representing various countries going down the street.

The Grüner Markt (Grocery Market) square north of city hall, with a view toward St. James (Lutheran) Church. During the weekend, there were activities here. The Feldschmiede, where Hannes made my nail, was at the far end. The Spielmannszug (marching band) occupied the area to the left, and there was a food counter out of the picture, on the left, with benches and tables for patrons to the right.

I went across the square and took a picture of the church, and as I was coming back, I encountered Stefan's wife, who works in the mayor's office. She said she'd let Stefan's folks know I was already in town, and assured me I didn't have to wait until coffee time to show up at the parents' house. Then it was about 1:00 and I decided to have some lunch.

The restaurant where I had lunch (waiters in black vests). My lunch (liver, potatoes, beans, salad, and beer, if memory serves) is at the corner of the nearer table on the left.

After lunch, I walked around some more and took more pictures.

Here are a couple. The home of the Staudt family. Hans Staudt was a city councillor at the time of the siege in 1631, and his son Hans jun. is the leader of the Junge Schar. The second picture shows the coat of arms of Nicolaus Philippus de Staudt, dated 1701. The plaque below says, "In 1540 King Ferdinand of the Romans and in 1546 Emperor Charles V stayed here."

Here's the exterior of the Brauhaus Rothenburg, where I first met the Junge Schar, in 1984. It's no longer a brewery, but it functions as a hotel.

Then I went to Uli Müller's florist shop. Uli had been a drummer in the Junge Schar and later was one of the imperial officers in the play, but had too bad a case of stage fright and had to drop out. Stefan had told me that Uli's father had died recently, and Stefan gave the eulogy. So I was able to offer condolences in my halting German (Uli speaks no English), and he brought out a box with pictures of his father and grandfather. I bought a nice bouquet, then went back to the car and drove to Stefan's parents' place, which is outside the walls, maybe a mile or a bit less from the Galgentor. I got there about 3:30, and at 4:00 we had coffee. Stefan and his daughters joined us. In Germany "coffee" isn't just coffee. There are always several kinds of pastry as well.

At 7:30 Stefan came back and we walked into the city. We viewed the torchlight procession into the marketplace in front of city hall, and the fireworks from city hall balcony, from the second floor of a building at the south end of the square.

This was the view before it got dark enough for the procession. The white building to the left is the old part of city hall. After the fireworks Stefan got a phone call from his older daughter, who was in tears over her recent breakup with her boyfriend. After he consoled her we had a beer and then went to the Lichthof, a ground level alley that runs between the two parts of city hall

 .

When we got there, the Loser Haufen, a group of former Junge Scharlers and others, were singing Junge Schar songs, while people were enjoying sausages and beer. Presently the Junge Schar arrived with their banner, and joined the singing. I was able to greet and exchange pleasantries with former J.S. members Horaz, Härtl, Manni, Erni, Texas, Stupfi, Michel, and Kiefer. They all seemed pleased to see me again. Stefan also introduced me to several of the current Junge Scharlers, who were quite impressed with the story of my repeated visits and absorption into the group's activities.

On our walk out of the city, Stefan mentioned that now that the girls are old enough to be left alone, he and Petra are hoping to visit the States in 2011. (I'll have to do some major housecleaning before they arrive.) Eventually our paths diverged: he went to his house, and I got back to the parents' at about 1:30 a.m. And so to bed.