The Pastor’s Pen,

Dear Steven

Last Sunday I preached a sermon entitled, “Living Positively”. In it, I challenged us all to live from the positive place and to “test God in all things”, knowing that changing our attitude can change our lives.

This week I met with a man who has been struggling with this very concept. He shared with me that he comes from a faith that was more fundamentalist. His family lived in fear of God and because of this he has grown up believing in a God who is “out to get him!”

He told me that, as an adult, as a gay man, he continues to hear the voices from his past and, even when his rational voice is telling him that God is all loving, he continues to hear the voice of his childhood telling him that God is not pleased with him.

I think that many of us can identify with him. Many of us have heard the voices that tell us we are unworthy, unloved, undeserving. We hear the rhetoric that has polluted and distorted the image of God that Jesus came to remind us of. We have bought into the image of God that has been taught us by our churches or by our parents.

In my conversation with this man I told him that the image of God portrayed by our institutions is not, necessarily the image given to us in the Bible. I told him that God is inviting us into an adult relationship with God – not a relationship through someone else, through our church, our pastor or indeed through our parents. God is inviting us as an adult, and as such it is vital that we meet God in this adult place. It is vital that we develop our own relationship with God. This is what Jesus invites us into.

Today, Anne Rice, author of “Interview with a Vampire and “Called Out of Darkness: A Spiritual Confession”, announced that she is quitting Christianity, refusing to be “anti-gay, anti-feminist, anti-science and anti-Democrat”. In a later statement she said, “My faith in Christ is central to my life. My conversion from a pessimistic atheist lost in a world I didn’t understand, to an optimistic believer in a universe created and sustained by a loving God is crucial to me.” She continued, “But following Christ does not mean following His followers. Christ is infinitely more important than Christianity and always will be, no matter what Christianity is, has been or might become.”

She echoes so many of my own sentiments. In becoming an adult believer and having an adult relationship with God, I no longer have to agree with everything that the church says, or a pastor says. I no longer have to believe in the God of my parents, or my childhood and I get to follow Jesus who, if you get to know Him personally, welcomes us all to love God, love self and love others.

I am grateful that here at MCCLA we are a diverse, radically inclusive community of faith and believe that Anne would feel more than welcome here. I intent to reach out to her and invite her to come visit!

Today, I invite you to come and welcome the visitor who comes to MCCLA this Sunday to explore the possibility that the God that they have known through a previous experience is a God who is inviting them to take a fresh look, a mature look, a questioning look, an adult look at the God who is found in Jesus.

And who know…. perhaps one day we might just see Anne in our midst, or someone just like her!

I look forward to welcoming you too!

See you Sunday, Steven

Sincerely, in Christ

The Reverend Dr. Neil G. Thomas
Senior Pastor

So I did the reading for a select and varied group and I learned much more about my piece. I slashed a scene in the middle that I’ll just put in the book. But I think I have the tone right. So after edits this morning, I have a new script to take with me to NYC. I have two weeks to memorize and stage this Fringe version. I can’t forget that the reason for all the new artwork and press is to share a message. This message is about accepting the past and about re-claiming spirituality in the face of spiritual abuse. And it is also to amaze and dazzle and inform and educate and infuriate and illuminate.

We all have a coming-of-age story. I feel grateful I get to share it with audiences in New York. My fear is that no one will come. But I will have to put that aside. You do the best you can and then turn it over to the theatre gods. They have never let me down before. It’s a good thing there are many gods so I don’t have to rely on the Mormon gods. Although sometimes the Mormon gods were there for me, too. I know that isn’t politically correct to say. But they were.

Smiles.

I thought the Mormon Church was going to sponsor my show at the Fringe Festival but they pulled their funding!

So in order to pull the MISSIONARY POSITION off, I need help. Once you buy a ticket to the FringeNYC production, won’t you please go to www.mormonboy.com/store and find the Paypal button for “make a payment” at the bottom of the page. A donation of any amount will assist the Mormon Boy Movement and keep it rolling forth “boldly, nobly and independent.”

Thank you for assuming the MISSIONARY POSITION with me.

Smiles forever,

Steven

I have received some lovely emails telling me that they enjoyed the show. And that folks cried at several moments, especially when I say they songs about my kids. “Breeze off the River/If She Walked Into My Life.”

So if you didn’t see the show last night, we will be doing it again on Monday, September 13th at 7:00 pm.

Now it’s time to focus 100% on Missionary Position at the New York International Fringe Festival. I’m behind. But catching up. Just did an interview with Next Magazine this morning. So press is starting to get wind. Also Gay City News. I have very little advertising budget beyond posters and post cards, so I’m very grateful for the press.

I had the most magnificent time hiking last Sunday. Being 10,000 feet above sea level amongst the snow-capped granite peaks with meadows of wild flowers in full summer splendor and the all those reassuring pine trees. I know I’m in the right place. The streams and the glacier lake were so delightful, too. And I was there with good people. So I feel like my soul was nourished in the middle of this chaos. And I’m reminded that I am a Mountain Boy! (Scatter my ashes on a Western Mountain meadow when I die. This is where I came from. And this is where I will return to. No matter where in the world my travels take me.)

But I need a break. So I’m going hiking with other gay Mormon dads (who don’t get to see their children), up in the mountains. I’m going up to Alta where I used to take my young kids on mini-hikes. It’s so beautiful up there. And I hear the snow has melted enough to finally have the gorgeous flowers in bloom.

I can’t wait to get so fresh mountain air!

Scene from MISISONARY POSITION:

One by one I was reunited with my family members as they came through the veil. They embraced and congratulated me with tears of joy and thanksgiving. “Families are Forever.” And the look in their eyes said, “Are you okay? Do you buy this? It’s alright. We don’t get it either. But our pioneer ancestors seemed to. Now let’s get out of these temple duds and go get some grub down in the cafeteria!” As the others went down to partake of the Mormon banquet, I had this overwhelming urge . . . to save myself.
(Lights change for fantasy sequence as he puts takes off his temple clothes and puts on his jeans to Mission Impossible music.)
I raced back in time, and ran through the automatic sliding doors of the Temple in my New Religion jeans. Passing the Mormon Oompa Loompas, I ran through the large and spacious building and up all the escalators, until I found my younger self in the Celestial Room standing like a deer caught in God’s headlights. I started ripping off his temple clothes.
Younger: “Who the heck are you?”
Older: “I’m Steven Fales and I’m here to rescue you.”
Younger: “But I’m Steven Fales.”
Older: “They’re about to make you Elder Fales if you’re not careful. Now take this crap off. This isn’t God. Or true Christianity. It’s all about the ego of Joseph Smith – a bipolar megalomaniac who stole all of this hocus-pocus from the Free Masons. And who got himself shot to death because he wouldn’t stop fucking his followers and calling them his wives. Now let’s get out of here!”
Younger: “But I don’t understand.”
Older: “I’m you, only older. I’ve come to save your nineteen-year-old ass from all this bullshit!”
Younger: “Okay. Fine. But you don’t have to swear!”

Just as we were about to run out the automatic sliding doors of the temple, my younger self stopped me.

Younger: “Wait! I can’t go.”
Older: “What do you mean you can’t go? You saw what’s going on in there. They’re taking you for a ride. It’s dangerous in there. Come on. We’re going back to Boston.”
Younger: “No. It’s safe in here. I don’t trust Boston. I don’t trust you.”
Older: “Look, I’ve been through all this and much more. Those chandeliers and mirrors in there, they’re not God.”
Younger: “And neither is rolling on ecstasy under a mirrored disco ball at seven a.m. I’ve heard about you and your kind–from the prophet. All your drugs. And sex parties. And all the other proclivities and viruses you people have. Your fabulous life’s a mess. You have nothing I want.”
Older: “I don’t do that anymore. (Looks at audience.) Now listen here, Steven. I know what I’m talking about.”
Younger: “Yes. You do like to talk don’t you? They warned me about you. What happens when we forsake the Truth. When we sell our signs and tokens for money! You’re just a fledgling secular humanist playwright desperately trying to make sense out of all the wreckage of your past and pay your child support. You turned your back on God and look what’s become of you. Oh, the show poster of you is so cute. Blasphemer!”
Older: “I didn’t turn my back on God. God turned his back on me!”
Younger: “And you replaced him with the divinity you call yourself! Let me tell you something, Elder Fales. You. Are. Not. God. You’re not God!” (Pause) I’m staying. All our family’s here. Plus I’m hungry.”
Older: “I didn’t leave. They kicked me out.”
Younger: “Oh, be honest. You left long before that. And you left me.”
Older: “I’m sorry. But I’ve come back.”
Younger: “I’m staying. I’m going on a mission. I want the blessings.”
Older: “You’re coming with me. I’m twenty years older than you and I’m the playwright, remember?”
Younger: “I’m not going. I’m not gay like you. I want a family. You know the Church is true, Elder.
Older: “No. It’s not.”
Younger: “Then please leave the temple. Now.”
Older: “That jolly green apron won’t make you straight.”
Younger: “GET THE HELL OUT OF HERE!”
I walked out the doors of the temple; and watched myself go back inside . . .
Fuck.

My recent blog posting was bold. And I don’t retract it. If I have ruffled my ex-wife’s fans and patrons and have lost a few fans myself, that is fine. You’ll be back. I have a national audience and I am not too concerned that many Affirmation members have defected from my camp. We’ve had a wonderful relationship. But relationships have ups and downs. Sometimes we grow apart. But I have a hunch we will all reconcile.

I must repeat that I have seen far too many of my own family members kill themselves. I have thought about the effects these suicides in my family have had on me for months. I believe if there is any blame at all in this last local suicide, Todd’s FAMILY must speak to that. But in the end, TODD is to blame. It made me sick to see Todd used as a political “F-U!” up on Capital Hill. Is it so cruel that I would write a blog sharing my intense feelings? Who held the vigil first? And if I am entitled to one last cynical question, “Did anyone film it?!” Can I buy a copy through the next HRC newsblast?

What disturbs me about FACING EAST and 8: THE MORMON PROPOSITION is that this sentimental “Mormon” Art (Watch any good LDS propaganda film and see the comparison in poor craft and writing all based on sentimental manipulation, audience’s euphoric hype, and old-fashioned priestcraft) not only exploits, but it perpetuates the myth that we are victims. No great civil rights movement had victims. And I will be discussing this far more in my work. Utah’s gay rights movement has been in a comfort zone for far too long with opportunistic mascots who are well-meaning say what the community wants to hear instead of what they need to hear, straight allies who are after pink dollars first, and sugar daddies and sugar mamas that enable all kinds of insanity. Fabulous is killing us, too. (I don’t even use that word anymore. Fantastic is even rationed.)

I tell my own story. And when I include others, they have signed depiction releases that I have purchased. And I don’t let anyone tell my story for me. They will always use it and spin it to the point where you won’t even recognize it. Beware of who you let tell your story. I have turned down offers time and time again. But dang it, I let Tyra Banks use it. Darn! Glad she only got ten minutes out of me. Don’t you just hate bad daytime TV?

If I am confronting to those who want to hold fast and dear to their victim status, so be it. I have recently been attacked as if I were the Christian Right. But I’ve had enough recent emails from local folks championing my blog entry, telling me I have nailed it on the head. I’ll keep posting all comments, even the most “vitriolic” comments. I’ve endured much worse. I can handle this. I think it’s a little much to ask me as a New York-forged artist who’s returned from the trenches to come back to Zion and be NICE? That’s been your job, folks. He’s dead. “You carry them, you bury them!” (Did you hear that Carol Lynn Pearson?) But I will be very nice to the Mormons who I’m about to have breakfast with. It’s big neighborhood breakfast here in Sugarhouse. Lots of nice your families. Yes, I’ll mingle with these sinners. Hate the Mormonism, love the Mormon!

As for me mentioning Todd’s drinking based only on his facebook photos. I don’t know if he was drunk when he died. Or if he needed help or treatment for mind-altering substances, but my point in bringing it up is that IT IS NEVER BROUGHT UP. Just a lovely obituary that never tells us the real story. Many suicides are alcohol and drug related. And if you’ve ever seen someone leave the church and then run to the bars, you’ll understand that drinking on pain and resentment is a formula for disaster.

If we are not looking at the relationship between alcohol, drugs, and suicide, we are not addressing the needs in Utah. This silence condones and is killing us. I’m tired of those who don’t like to hear mention of anything pertaining to sobriety because they can’t stand to hear about that old Mormon “Word of Wisdom.” Or they hate to be told not to have all the sex they want because of that old wicked “Law of Chastity” that was unfairly used against them when the Brenthren confused sexual orientation with sexual addiction and excommunicated them.

Well go to the big cities, fellas. You will see rooms filled with gay men who are sober and abstinent AND ALIVE. Some are finding happiness. Because they are finding the help that the Mormon Church cannot give. And that the bars cannot give either. And Manhunt cannot give either. As long as there are choices and recovery from Mormonism, crystal, of whatever ails us, we are not victims.

For my own health as a gay man, I need to call suicide what it is. I have walked on the dark side. I was slowly killing myself.  (By the way, do you know how many gays have done sex work? Or have binged on crystal? Keep the drug addict whore statements at bay. Nine years clean from sex work, fellas. That’s 90 years in gay life.) And if I’m considered narcissistic, well, I learned it from the best. Do my genealogy on that one to figure it out. That old label was used far too long to discredit me. And it will prove outdated in time. Just because my pictures on the poster doesn’t mean I don’t have something very legitimate to say. And I’ve earned my opinion.

I AM NOT A VICTIM. NOT EVEN OF H8.

I’m sorry Todd. So impressed you had a degree. And that you were a singer. My cousin that killed himself in March was trying to get his GED. Rest in peace, both of you.

Todd Curtis Ransom 1982 ~ 2010 Todd Curtis Ransom departed this life on July 19, 2010. He was born on July 11, 1982 in Princeton, New Jersey. He grew up in Tucson, Arizona and Orem, Utah, where he graduated from Timpanogos High School in 2000. He graduated with honors from the University of Utah in May 2009, earning a BS degree in biomedical engineering. Before his death he worked at BD Medical in Salt Lake City. Todd was a talented singer. He was a member of the Timpanogos High School Show & Chamber choir and sang in the BYU Men’s Chorus. He loved to sing, play the guitar, and write. He loved the outdoors and taking photographs of beautiful scenery. For many years Todd dealt with emotional pain that we could not understand. In spite of this, he was sensitive and kind and had many friends. We know he has found peace and that we will see him again. We all loved him very much and will miss him deeply. We will always remember his laughter, twinkling blue eyes, big dimpled smile and long, loving hugs. Todd is survived by his parents, Michael and Laurie Ransom of Orem, his siblings James Ransom (Celeste) of New York City, Melissa Gonzalez (Israel) of Lehi, Tyler Ransom (Nichole) of Durham, North Carolina, and Jessica Ransom of Orem. He is also survived by his grandparents, William and Michele Wilson of Kailua, Hawaii and many aunts, uncles and cousins. Todd had a special bond with the Jacquez family of East Carbon, Utah and considered them his second family. The family invites friends to join them at a viewing at the Sundberg-Olpin Mortuary, 495 S. State Street in Orem on Sunday, July 25, from 6 to 8 p.m. Funeral services will take place at 11 a.m. on Monday, July 26 at the Heatheridge LDS Stake Center, 450 E. 2000 N. in Orem, with a viewing there from 9:30 to 10:30 a.m. A brief graveside service will follow the funeral at Orem City Cemetery.

“I often take my children to see live performances of the Mormon Tabernacle Choir on Temple Square. The choir represents the very best of my people. I want my children to know where they come from. My children are the hope of the Mormon Church–if they choose to play a part. I don’t believe in “church” anymore, but I will never give up on my people. Though I’m not longer a Latter-day Saint, something about me will always be Mormon.” (Afterward of the book Confessions of a Mormon Boy.)

I couldn’t stomach church after my excommunication, but I wanted to teach my children goodness and spirit. So we would go to “church” at the Tabernacle. Oh, the tears my children have seen me shed listening to the choir. And then we would go to brunch at the Market Street Grill all dressed up in Sunday clothes that daddy bought (sometimes from Bloomingdale’s!).

When I hear the Grammy Award-winning Mo-Tab Choir, as in this simple, serene, calm, haunting hymn, I am feel like I’m Frankenstein compelled to follow, arms up and staggering, toward the sweet music of a beckoning violin. “You can take the kid out of the tabernacle, but you can’t take the tabernacle out of the kid.” Well, that’s what the Village Voice said about me!