CAMP Spirit

December 1st is almost upon us, and we ready ourselves as a community to commemorate another "World AIDS Day." I remember back in 1982, when I first heard about "gay cancer;" it seemed a really freaky thing, certainly something that would never touch my life or the lives of anyone I knew. In my wildest imaginings, I would never have predicted that twenty years later we would still be battling a disease called AIDS, which has become a world-wide pandemic. I also remember the first time I really heard about AIDS and its symptoms. I was on a trip to San Francisco, something I did frequently when I lived in California. I was walking in the Castro district and had a brochure thrust at me by a man and woman staffing a card table in front of the Bank of America. I put it in my pocket without looking at it; I later came across it when I was at Ghirardelli Square sitting and looking out at the ocean and the Golden Gate Bridge. I opened the brochure and began to read. My life would never be the same again.

I, along with thousands of other gay men "of a certain age" began to wonder day by day if I had "it"; I prodded my lymph nodes, weighed myself obsessively, and worried constantly. Gradually, because of where I lived and my personal sexual history, I began living my life with the assumption that I was HIV positive and did so for about 7 years, until I relocated to the east coast. Those were the days when Lyndon LaRouche was trying to pass a proposition in California calling for quarantine of those who tested positive, so getting tested was a very scary and even unwise thing to do. I remember watching acquaintances get sick and disappear. I remember going back to San Francisco and hearing someone in a bar saying, "This country won’t do a thing about AIDS until President Reagan’s son gets it!" Well, he was almost right. It wasn’t until Rock Hudson died that folks outside the gay and lesbian community seemed to "get it" that AIDS wasn’t going to go away overnight, that it did not discriminate, and that no one could afford to remain ignorant.

In the ensuing years much has happened. It was the AIDS crisis that caused me to become a minister. My boyfriend of ten months died just a week after diagnosis in 1986. He knew I attended the Metropolitan Community Church and asked me to pray for him; his mother’s priest had told him that he had AIDS because he was gay and had been a prostitute in his youth. I told him that God hears everyone’s prayers, that he could pray too. I’ll never forget the last time I saw him; he moved aside the oxygen mask to tell me, "I did it, Tom!" "What, Tony?" "I prayed!" I realized that there were hundreds of Tonys dying while believing that they were cursed by God. I never looked back. I share this not to get a pat on the back or to seem immodest, but merely to show that the Divine Spirit works in our lives in mysterious ways: If I hadn’t kept that brochure... If I hadn’t met Tony... If I hadn’t bitten the bullet and contradicted his mother’s priest....

Since that time, we have witnessed many brave and courageous women, men, and children pass from our sight. We have seen the advent of protease inhibitors and frequently encounter those who have lived positive for many more years than they ever thought possible. We hear great messages of hope and experience wonderful humanitarian efforts from celebrities and ordinary people alike. Some days it’s even possible to forget that AIDS is still here. But it is. And there are still "religious" individuals who view any disease, but especially AIDS, as a punishment or a test from God. I for one do not and would not worship a god like that! The Spirit that enlivens and empowers every one of us every day is a Spirit of boundless compassion, whether one accesses It through one of the major world faiths or through personal experience and introspection. Love is the Ultimate Power in the universe, and it is Love that has brought healing, hope, and wholeness to many in the midst of AIDS.

As the author of the Song of Songs in the Hebrew Bible tells us: "Love is strong as death, passion fierce as the grave" (8:6). I look forward to the year when World AIDS Day will be a dim memory, but until that time, I encourage each of us to go within, to remember those we have lost, and to remain inspired by their memory.