by Joseph Sciambra

I was born in 1969, not far from San Francisco. My father was a hard-working immigrant from Sicily, and my mother a California girl who grew up in a broken home. They married, in a Catholic Church, though not in the sanctuary, as my mother had been raised Baptist.. Later, they had four children. I was the youngest. My mother later converted, and my parents saw to it that we all attended Catholic parochial schools. I was a child of the 1970's and 80s, when, unfortunately, the Church experienced the worst of the repercussions from the Second Vatican Council. After thirteen years of Catholic education, I left, knowing next to nothing about my Faith. I remembered the kindly guitar strumming religious sister, but I did not know many prayers, nothing of Sacred Scripture, Catholic dogma, moral teachings, or the Rosary. Religion felt inconsequential, unrelated to my life. I thought I didn’t need it.

After graduation from high school, I was always nervous and restless, I didn’t know what I wanted to do, so I decided to go to college and waste some time. I picked the University of California at Berkeley, not because of any academic aspirations, but for it's liberal reputation. Somewhere along the way, I feel in love with the study of Art History and was accepted into the program. Perhaps, it was my inner longing to find true beauty, away from the ugliness of the world. Right away, I began to notice a strange spiritual emptiness within me. One day, while walking near the campus, I wandered aimlessly into a New-Age curiosity shop. Immediately, I became enthralled with the seemingly discordant mix of Eastern philosophies, Western paganism, and witchcraft. From that moment onwards, I began to create my own religion based upon my personal needs, interests, and fleeting desires...

During the same period of time, I ponderously questioned my sexuality.. I didn’t know if I was straight, gay, or bisexual. From a very young age, I was exposed to both soft and hard-core pornography. As a child, I repeatedly rummaged through my old brother's things in a desperate need to find porn magazines. By the time I reached my late-teens, I was buying my own issues as well as x-rated videotapes. In the same spirit of further exploration, I started picking up female prostitutes then made several trips to the legal brothels in Reno, Nevada. At first, I enjoyed myself, then the risk and expense became too much. To my great relief, I discovered adult novelty stores that featured video-booths in the back of the shops. There, I began having anonymous sexual encounters with various men. After one night of deviance, I started to hear strange voices in my head. They told me to go to certain locations and to do bizarre things; usually of a sexual nature. The first place the voices guided me was to a gay bathhouse.

At one of these sex-clubs, I met my first lover. He was an older man who, at first, introduced me somewhat cautiously into the gay lifestyle. Then, our relationship quickly digressed to include more extreme sex-acts. We eventually tired of each, and I moved on, steely and cynical, to his other friends. Many enjoyed the experience of sex in public or having their exploits video-taped. In the beginning, I got a new thrill from being an exhibitionist. Later, as I was already bored, oversexed, and burned-out, this also began to no longer interest me. Then a friend told me about an amateur pornographer who paid guys to masturbate in front of his camera. I thought the idea rather tame, but I gave it a try. What I found surprisingly exciting, was the copious amounts of praise that I received. In my twisted mind I became a star; if only to a third-rate porn pusher. But my initial dalliances with pornography did not end there. Like a drug addict, in need of a more powerful fix, I jumped into the world of BDSM (bondage, disciple, and sado-masochism) pornographic films.. My involvement took me to a new level of demonic possession. Satan gave me power.

The dark ritualism within the world of S&M neatly complimented my already advanced knowledge and interest in all things related to the occult. For large segments of the gay population, sex became ceremony. It was the highpoint of their religious experience. Many found solace in this. And for fleeting moments, I too could forget the pains of my tormented soul. But that also faded. I then began to pick-up random men at various cruising points throughout San Francisco. In the meantime, I was still doing an occasional cheap porn film: not for the money, but to bring a few cherished minutes of excitement into my increasingly dull life. Porn became just another route of escape. I was running from myself, but to nowhere. Near the end of my sordid existence, a stranger who invited me to his home tried to kill me. By then, I wanted to die. I begged him to murder me. But, he didn’t.

Sinking to my deepest level of degradation, I took part in a violent series of sexual performances that brought me to the edge of damnation. Later that same night, I ended up in a hospital emergency room. The demons arrived and began to escort me to hell. I was scared, and, for the first time in years, I called out to Our Lord Jesus Christ. Immediately, the demons left me alone. Then, I started the long road back to healing. Thankfully, there was still a small mustard seed of Faith within myself that even the years of being saturated in evil could not eradicate completely. Through the Grace of God, I became reacquainted with a humble Catholic priest that I once knew, and he heard my lengthy Confession. But my soul was still not at peace. I couldn’t accept God's forgiveness. I thought that I was perpetually stained and forever undeserving of love. Instead of banishing the devil from my life, I clung to all that I was. In a foolish attempt to flee Satan, I entered a secluded religious community where I thought I could hide. Even there, the devil found me..

Against my stubborn will, I returned home to California and tried to start over again. But I was stuck in the past. Out of nowhere, a newly ordained priest visited the city where I lived. He was giving a series of talks about the power of the occult, so, of course, I went. When he met me, it was as if he already knew much of my story. He took me into a little room, in the enormous old building where he was speaking. There, he placed his stole upon my head and delivered me from the grip of Satan. The demonic spirits of self-loathing, hate, and fear left me. Finally, I could receive the love of Jesus Christ. He took me into his strong arms, where, at last, I found the sustenance I spent years searching for. After that moment, life has surely not been easy. But I have never abandoned my belief in God. More than a decade later, the Lord is now asking me to tell my story that others may not make the same mistakes I made.

Can a gay man be a practicing Christian and remain a part of the gay world?

by Joseph Sciambra

I will never forget my first day in the Castro. For those who may not be familiar with this neighborhood in San Francisco, it is the epee-center, the Rome, of the gay world. I first heard of it, during my childhood in the 1970s, from the dance song San Francisco by The Village People.

As soon as I graduated from high-school, and turned eighteen, it was one of my first solo-outings as a self-proclaimed mature adult. Since I was underage, and looked it, I could not go into most of the clubs or bars. So, I spent the afternoon, before meeting that night with a new college friend, looking through the various stores predominately owned by gay men. At that time, I was already interested in Art, therefore the numerous bookstores and antique shops held my interest. The first one I walked into was a small and narrow place crammed full of old posters, bronze statues, and hard-wood furniture. Immediately, hanging in the very back, a beautiful water-color of several nude men around a lake caught my attention. As I walked closer to it, I discovered that the figures, though exquisitely rendered, sported enormous phalluses. My shoulders dropped. The fantasy of beauty was gone. A couple of hours later, while looking through the large coffee-table sized photography books at another store, I was, at first, mesmerized by the fluid grace and masculine perfection of the black and white pictures contained in the various collections. As I turned the pages, the photos became darker, uglier, and masochistic. Once the sun went down, I hooked up with my buddy, got right into a discotheque, and partied till closing. He met someone, and went back to their place. I drove home alone. My first day out: I was disappointed, but seduced. I knew I would be back.

My initial experiences in the gay lifestyle revealed, although I could not recognize this at the time, much about the homosexual community. Primarily, gay culture is built upon sex. Without the freedom to engage in homosexual activity, the lifestyle collapses. For this reason, early on, I noticed the extreme political views and allegiances of many homosexuals. Any perceived threat, whether real or imagined, was quickly focused upon and attacked. Hence, the strong hatred for Christians who oppose homosexual behavior. For the homosexual, the sex act is the sacrament. It is the closest they can become to the divine. It must be protected. In those fleeting moments of bliss, all felt right in the world. You reached contentment. Whatever gaping wound that bleeds inside is temporarily healed. Afterward, the mind is continually preoccupied with when, where, and how you will be able to get back to that place. This false sort of religiosity I saw condensed and intensified in the leather and BDSM sub-cultures. There, every gesture, motion, even color of a hanky, took on ritualistic and symbolic meanings. The sex was often violent and rough: riskier, but with a greater pay-off. It quickly drew me in. Being in pornography was the next logical step. Eventually, my life as an active gay man brought me ever closer to death. I had to make a decision: keep going down the road I was on and die, or turn around and live.

The question then arises: Can a gay man be a practicing Christian and remain a part of the gay world? In the two above paragraphs, my intent is to prove that all gay culture revolves around sex. The aspirations of many gay men are often well-meaning, but they always return to the materialistic and the base. For homosexuality is founded on function not form. For instance, the homosexual act is a human behavior, it is not something that you are. Unfortunately, most gay men fall into this trap. During one of my first attempted one-night stands, I found this fact out first-hand. While walking to the apartment of a man I just met at a club, the two of us talked about what we liked sexually. As it happened, we found out that we were both tops. A top is the active member in gay couplings. Earlier, while cruising at a nearby pub, we both erroneously assumed that each of us was the other; a bottom. Before entering the gay lifestyle, I was already familiar with the top/bottom designation in gay sex from my previous exposure to pornography. For most, it is a deal-breaker because it categorizes your entire being: the personality of a top is supposedly different from that of a bottom. Well, once we found that our positional classification was off, my new acquaintance and I quickly parted and went our separate ways.

Once I left the gay lifestyle, I had to relearn who I was. I was not a man who preferred sex with men, I was not a sexual position, I was not a top, bottom, pig, whore, twink, chicken, daddy, or stud. I was a child of God. At first, it all makes sense. Being with Jesus is the ultimate high. Then, when we least expect it, the devil slips back in. In my case, I became lonely for companionship. I didn’t want to have sex, but I missed my old friends. I thought to myself, I can go back to the Castro. I can handle being social on a platonic level. At the time, since I was still fresh from my exit, I got a call from a former pal who invited me to a gathering at his house in San Francisco. I accepted. That night, while preparing, I made a mental resolution to stay only for the camaraderie and conversations and to quickly leave if things got nasty. Then, when I was propositioned, I jumped right back in. The fall happened in a flash. When I got home, I said to myself a short prayer. One of the lines includes this phrase: “the near occasion of sin.” I could never quite figure out what that meant. But now I did.

The near occasion of sin is any circumstance that can entice a person to commit an evil act. Since the gay community is a group of men who have one primary article in common: the practice of sexual relations with those of the same gender, which is sinful according to Our Lord Jesus Christ, gay culture must be avoided. After all, a recovering alcoholic will not keep booze in his house, nor would a reformed porn addict subscribe to a pornographic magazine. At the same time, this must also be distinguished from desire. It is the act which is sinful. Because you have homosexual longings does not automatically make you evil. It is what you do with it that matters. Steering clear of that which may cause you to have sexual thoughts is the first step. That does not mean that you have to live like a monk. For your own well-being, disinterested friendships with those of the same sex must be sought after and nurtured. I know that this is not easy. It takes an enormous amount of Faith in God and persistence. Those that get out of the gay world, are outsiders. To the people that we leave behind, we are the new Biblical lepers. It can often be a stiflingly solitary existence. When I initially joined the gay juggernaut that is San Francisco, I felt completely loved and liberated. I met other guys from all of the country who often felt monstrous and rejected back at home. When you walk away from that, the solidarity is gone. Now, the former freaks don’t even want you. Therefore, the only thing which will keep you alive and sane is a very close relationship with Jesus. He must become your best friend. Your everything. All that we looked for in the gay lifestyle: love, acceptance, fulfillment, we must now find in Jesus. It will not happen overnight.

This may sound like a horrible state that I am asking gay men to live in. In reality, to deny your urges requires a great deal of suffering; and it is only natural to want to avoid pain and discomfort. We must always keep in mind that some are called to this very special place of honor next to Our Lord. Every Apostle chosen by Jesus, with the exception of one, died from violent and often gruesome instances of martyrdom. Jesus truly loves us all, but only a precious few are allowed to share in His most intimate pains. The holy and glorious Saint Francis of Assisi, who the city of San Francisco was named after, became so thoroughly linked with Jesus that the wounds of Our Lord appeared on his body. As gay men, our condition is a torturous burden and oftentimes a heavy cross to carry. But we have a choice: we can surrender to it and let ourselves be crushed or it can become light and joyful. Onetime, before Jesus saved me, I met a sickly man riddled with AIDS. He was not angry or bitter because he knew what had brought him to this state. Then, I thought his cheerful demeanor very strange. Only he had accepted the truth. His suffering was joined with Our Lord. He was doing what he had to do. And he died in peace.