Tags
Bible Study, Gospel of Mark, homosexual, Jesus, pink, prayer
The True Light, which enlightens everyone, was coming into the world. John 1:9
It’s Advent. Christmas is on its way, and we Christians take four weeks or so to prepare ourselves to celebrate Christ coming into the world. I know it’s Advent even though there are no decorations in here. No wreaths, no trees, no twinkling lights, no garland, no manger scene, no paper snowflakes, no Santa Claus or reindeer or snowmen. I know it is Advent because there is so little daylight coming in to brighten my cell, and I’m spending most of the day with wonderful fluorescent lights on so that I can read and write.
I also know it’s Advent because of W–, our psychotic homosexual. Normally W– whistles the theme song to the Andy Griffith show. He cannot hold to one key as he whistles and changes from one to another at random, even in the middle of a musical phrase. He whistles it over and over, usually losing his place in the simple tune. When he’s no longer certain where he is, he does a big wolf whistle to mark the end and then starts all over. Seven in the morning, noon, or eleven at night, W– sees anytime as a good time to disturb us with his whistling. His goal is to provoke you into telling him to “shut the heck up” so that he can curse you and your parentage, and go on whistling longer and louder.
But I know it’s Advent because W– has started singing Christmas carols, which he destroys just as well as he does the Andy Griffith them song. So now it’s “Deck the Halls” and “Oh Christmas Tree” at all hours. In addition to whistling these revered songs of Christmas, he also sings them with new and disturbing lyrics, “Deck my balls with lots of holly. Fa la la la la….” and “Frosty the homo” and “Jingle Balls.”
If you look in your dictionary under the word “vile” I’m pretty certain there is a picture of W–, not because he is a homosexual, but because he is determined to repulse, attack, belittle, or humiliate every other human being he comes into contact with. W– is a small man who looks like a cross between a Neanderthal and Golem from “Lord of the Rings.” But his voice is loud and piercing, even through his closed steel cell door. His mouth runs constantly, and if anyone gets into an exchange with him, he writes and grievance against them.
When W– was born, his mother gave him a normal first name for a male, an older sort of name that is not given to children very often in the 21st century, but a name that was worthy of one of our presidents. W– is his last name. And we call him W– because he hates his first name and gets irate if you call him by that given name. In place of his mother’s choice of a first name, W– has chosen a woman’s first name. Let’s say it’s “Tabatha.” He calls himself Tabatha, or Tab, and signs that name to all his requests, grievances, and legal documents.
When Tabatha came to jail, he was processed in booking like the rest of us, except that when he stripped down he was wearing Pink Panther panties and a bra. On an earlier arrest it was apparently Hello Kitty panties and bra. When Tabatha was in the hole for a month, they had to give him bag meals with finger foods because he kept taking the spoons from the meal trays — and you don’t want to know where they found them. Tabatha loves with the nurses deliver meds, commenting on their shoes and their choice of colors for scrubs. On a day featuring pink, he laments his loss of wardrobe and speaks of wearing a pink skirt and pink shoes again one day, the way we talk about missing wings from Quaker Steak and Lube.
Here, in this dark place where the days are growing shorter and the darkness is taking over, we have been doing a Sunday/Wednesday Bible study and prayer time. I’m doing my best to hold onto the light and keep my lamp shining, even in here. Normally, there are 3 – 5 of us at Bible study, and Tabatha is not one of them. But one Wednesday evening, he sat down at the stainless steel table with us, Bible in hand. We had been reading through the Gospel of Mark for several weeks, and we were in Chapter 10. As surprised as we were to see Tabatha sit down, we told him where we were in the Bible, and he found Mark easily. We were taking turns reading, and when I asked Tabatha to read a few verses, he shook his head no.
“Where’s all the gay shit at?” He asked.
“What do you mean?” I asked.
“You know, all the gay shit. Like when those people wanted to have sex with those two guys.”
“Do you mean the story of Sodom and Gomorrah?”
“That’s it. Where’s that shit at?”
“That’s in Genesis. We’re reading through Mark about the life of Jesus.”
“Genesis, huh?” he said, and turned back to Genesis to search for Sodom and Gomorrah while we continued to read in Mark. We were on Mark 10:32-34 where Jesus predicts his death and resurrection for the third time when Tabatha said, “Where’s the other gay shit?”
“Like what?” I asked.
“Like where it says that one dude should not be f— another dude up the a–.”
I prayed. God, give me the patience. God, give me the words…
“You know W–,” I began, “It sounds like you are looking for some verses about homosexuals.”
“Yah. Yah.” he said eagerly.
“Well, there are a few places in the Bible, probably fewer than you think. But right now we’re reading about the life and death of Jesus, who died for us sinners. We’re all sinners here, along with everyone else in the world. And we’re looking at how Jesus, the Son of God, gave up his life so that we could really live.”
“But what about everybody hating gays?” he said.
“We’re reading now about love – the love of Christ for this messed up and fallen world. We all have things to work on in our lives.”
“Yah W–,” another Bible study member spoke up, “I’m working out my own shit here – we all are – so let’s just keep reading.”
Tabatha read along for a while, then got up and left before we started our prayer time. But a few weeks later we were again in our Bible study, getting ready to pray, when Tabatha came over and said, “Hey. Pray for me.” He didn’t know that his mouth and attitude were constantly on our list of concerns.
“What do you want us to pray for?” I asked.
“For me, Man,” he said. “You know, whatever kinds of stuff you pray for people.”
And so we prayed for Tabatha. For peace and wholeness. For calmness and self control. For his case and for his future. Afterwards, he just walked away quietly.
But now it’s Advent, and Tabatha is singing, “Jingle Balls.” I don’t know what to do about him. No one does. All I can do is light my candle in this darkness and hope that the light does some good, because we are celebrating the true light, that shines on everyone, coming into the world.
I found and old faded hymnal among the romance novels in the book closet they call a “library” here. And there’s a hymn called, “I Heard the Voice of Jesus Say.” Verse 3 goes:
I heard the voice of Jesus say, “I am this dark world’s light;
Look unto me, thy morn shall rise, And all the day be bright.”
And in that light of life I’ll walk, till trav’ling days are done.
Do you know The Light? Are you shining in the darkness around you? The power we celebrate at Christmas is the Light that shines in the darkness. And although the darkness does not like the Light, or understand the Light, the darkness has not, and shall not, overcome it.