In college I dropped out of church. When the Preacher called to check up on me, I told him I was going to another church now.
Which one?
"Roman Catholic," I said, just to shake things up a bit.
He slammed the phone down, and by the next Sunday, my family was being shunned, stared at, and whispered about. They made me call the Preacher and tell him that I was only joking.
The first real Catholic I met was Frank, the boy on the Prospect List. I spent the night with Todd, a Maronite Catholic, at music camp in the summer of 1976. My first view of the real Roman Catholic Church came the next fall, when my Medieval History class at Rocky High saw Brother Sun, Sister Moon (1972), about the life of St. Francis of Assisi.
Like many movies and tv programs of the era -- That Cold Day in the Park, Hair, If...., even The Bugaloos -- it featured a "wild youth" who shakes up the establishment. Raised in luxury as the son of a wealthy Italian merchant, Francis is repelled by the materialism, avarice, and aggression of the adults. He goes to war, but cannot bring himself to fight. He seeks refuge in the Roman Catholic Church, but finds it antiquated and materialistic. So he "lights out for the territory" and starts a hippie commune. . .um, I mean a monastic order.
To symbolize his rejection of the material, Francis sheds his clothes, revealing a beautifully sculpted backside. So a naked male body shows us the way to Paradise.
Some of the movie posters tried to transform the movie into a heterosexual romance, but Francis has no interest in women. Or in men, either. He has a best friend, Paolo (Kenneth Cranham), but his love extends to all living things and even inanimate objects, and cannot be contained in a single person.
Actor Graham Faulkner, reputedly gay in real life, also stripped down to play a Cornish farmer with rather shapely thighs, frolicking on the beach with writer D.H. Lawrence in Priest of Love (1981).
Today I know much more about the Roman Catholic church. I've read The Seven Story Mountain. I've seen the Sistine Chapel. I know about the histories of popes and saints, the scandals of the priests, the intense opposition to gay marriage and all things gay (but check out this blog, The Wild Reed, Thoughts and Reflections from a Progressive Gay Catholic Perspective).
But in the early days, I found there appreciation of male beauty that the fundamentalist church of my childhood denied.
Male beauty is far too undervalued and rarely acknowledged due to narcissistic heterosexual men who are obsessed with women. Also, a culture that does not nurture male affection and genuine male appreciation and male/male romantic love.
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