Gay in a Quaker Respite in Rural America

I am a Connecticut Yankee Quaker living in the wilds of rural Central Pennsylvania surrounded by Amish Mennonites and their farms. Compared to these neighbors with their horses and buggies and low-carbon lifestyle, I am a fast-paced, modern believer with electronic devices and access to a global community of Quakers, or Friends, as we refer to each other. Some days my life on the banks of the Susquehanna River doesn’t seem much different from the time before I became a Quaker when I lived, studied, and worked near the Hudson River in New York City during my twenties. 

 Today when I step into Quaker meeting for worship, though, here in the countryside and even in large cities, my life gets simpler, downright primitive, and profoundly divine. After years of worship in Evangelical and Pentecostal Holiness Churches, it may seem odd that today I take part in a quiet, contemplative worship service. Culturally it still seems foreign to me, but my journey as a Christian, who happens to be gay, led me to worship with the Religious Society of Friends, or Quakers, and within this faith community I have been able to thrive in a rural setting.

 Like many gay men in America I originally come from a rural community that I escaped the first chance I had after high school graduation. Born in the city of Stamford, Connecticut, we moved to the Catskill Mountains in New York State when I was five, in part to help me flee the pollution of the city that routinely sent me to the hospital with asthma attacks. Coming of age in rural New York state during the HIV/AIDS Crisis and a growing organized movement to protect the church and family from what was called “The Gay Lifestyle,” I consumed secular and religious messages that told me I would be more valuable if I were heterosexual and masculine.

It was in a rural independent Bible church that I gave my heart to Jesus and determined to repent from homosexual attractions . . .  and spent seventeen years and $30,000 on three continents pursuing a cure for being gay so that I could finally be eligible for Christian service in the churches I chose to attend.

 One day, though, I had to face reality and admit that change was not possible; in fact, the only real change I experienced was a growing depression, self-loathing, and despair—not the fruit of the Spirit I wanted for so long. With great reluctance, I came out gay and immediately assumed I had to become an atheist. I still believed that I could not be gay and Christian. I was a lousy atheist and regularly missed being part of a church.

Then living in Hartford, Connecticut, a week after the 911 terrorist attack, I stumbled into a Quaker meeting house on a tree-lined city street. There I experienced a service that seemed the exact opposite of what I knew from Evangelical and Pentecostal churches; I experienced quiet.

The full essay is available in Liturgy 32, no. 4 available by personal subscription and through many libraries.

Peterson Toscano is a theatrical performance activist exploring issues of sexuality, faith, and climate change. See his work at https://petersontoscano.com.

 

Peterson Toscano, “Quaker Liturgy in a Rural Context,” Liturgy 32, no. 4 (2017): 20-24.