Believe it or not, there are things I don’t talk about.

There are a good many things I keep out of quote-unquote polite conversation, in fact. A good way to figure out what they are is to read the things I post on the web. I think about political and religious issues more or less all day long while the area near my brain stem labelled “Job” makes my fingers do the things that make the money appear at my house, but I almost never have particularly meaningful conversations about them with other people. I know too many party-liners on both sides to get further in a political discussion than “Boy, I sure do prefer our system of government to that one on ‘Survivor’ Island.” And people are so keyed up about religion (especially in the last few years) I’ve had people scream at me while I was agreeing with them.

“We’re all sinners, but Jesus loves us so much!”

“I know. Jesus died for our sins!”

“You shut up! Don’t you patronize me, you son of a bitch!”

Things are further complicated by how the two topics increasingly intertwine. Political agendas in America are more often framed with religion, and religion becomes more explicitly politicized.

“Happy Thanksgiving, Dad! Say, Dad: have you ever noticed that there are planks in each party’s political platform that reflect Catholic teachings, but the bishop only teaches the ones emphasized by the Republicans? Why is that?”

“Well son, if the Church seems to lean to the right, it’s only because Republicans are the forces of Good, and Democrats want gays to abort Christians.”

“I see. I must now attack you with this carving knife.”

“Yes, this discussion has decreased the quality of our relationship. Same time next year?”

So I use this little safety valve that nobody sees and get it all off my chest here. Nobody has to get defensive; I don’t get my face chewed off because the kitten-rescue operation I like turns out to be tied to Planned Fucking Parenthood somehow, possibly through the Freemasons; nobody is involuntarily put in a position to find my immortal soul wanting or wonder aloud how they ever made friends with an amoral traitor like myself. Years of experience and unguarded, ill-timed asides have taught some bitter lessons.

Occasionally, I do need a refresher course.

As helpful as it is to vent my spleen in my little corner of the world, sometimes I thirst for something more. I long to be inspired instead of discouraged. I long for affirmation of what is good instead of laundry lists of what is not. That’s one of the things I love best about Advent and Christmas: you go to church and get your glory booster shot. Peace on Earth! Good Will Toward Men! Joy to the World! Giving! Sharing! Hot Damn, We’re All in This Together, Hallelujah!

No anger there, right? Everybody can get behind joy? To the world?

So this year I sent a gasket into orbit when I read an article in the local paper saying that all the priests in the state were instructed to use the first week of Advent to deliver a statement opposing a petition on stem cell research. Stem cells? Right now? It’s Christmastime, time to put aside the acrimony and controversy for a few weeks and come together as brothers and sisters… or, failing that, instruct people how to vote on one of the most divisive cultural issues of the day in the most condescending, stultifying way possible. We are all out of Joy to the World, but as a priest, my prepared notes on cellular biology should be at least as inspirational as a PowerPoint presentation.

Whatever happened to moving people’s hearts?, I thought. Whatever happened to trying to convert people? It feels like a lot of church leaders honestly couldn’t care less whether or not anybody believes in anything, just so long as they win. As long as we get out the vote and squash this petition, you can believe Jesus Christ is a grapefruit in your refrigerator. Then, once the stem cell petition is done, we can start fighting Target for saying “Happy Holidays.”

So after I read the article and went crazy, I did the thing that crazy people do: I wrote a Letter to the Editor. Having the remaining flicker of sanity to realize that these things always go badly for me before going ahead and doing it anyway, I tried to sound as little like myself as possible and turn the dial to “simmer.”

To Whom It May Concern:

While I recognize that social issues are a huge part of the Church’s mission, I was nonetheless almost inarticulate with frustration when I read that the Catholic Church in Missouri would use the first Sunday of Advent to uniformly lobby against stem cell research. As we should be preparing to celebrate the birth of Christ, I cannot believe that the Church I was raised in would actually choose this time of all times to deliver a canned stump speech for the sake of advancing a political agenda. At a time when we should be celebrating a joyous holiday on the Church calendar, our “leaders” have once again chosen to wade into the areas of science and politics and emphasize all things divisive and inflammatory. It breaks my heart that I hear about abortion and Petri dishes from the pulpit nearly every week, but issues like poverty and caring for our fellow man– about which, incidentally, Jesus actually had something to say, and which actually relate to the coming holiday– almost never seem to come up on Sunday. If only my priest or bishop had this much to say about Medicaid cuts! As troubling as it is to see religion shrinking from the public square, it is downright infuriating to see the extent to which politics, specifically Republican politics, keep finding their way onto the altar.

Sincerely,

Jimski

Having said my piece and put the whole thing out of my mind, I was taken by surprise a day or two later when a message on my voicemail informed me that my letter would be published. I got the little charge that you get when these things happen: They’re printing my letter. The priests will read it, and they’ll send it to the bishop, and everyone will change their minds. It all starts here. Oh my God, I am going to be pope. I’d better pack.

No, you don’t really think that, but you sort of do, don’t you? Why else are you writing the freakin’ letter? What do you think the outcome is going to be? Maybe you don’t know what the outcome will be. Well, let me tell you. In the aftermath or my letter’s publication, my mom heard the story I’m telling you now and summed it up in her inimitable fashion: “You see? This is why I always say, ‘Never say your opinion about anything.’”

If hearing that my letter would be published was a surprise, that was nothing compared to actually seeing the letter in the paper. It was at this point I learned the horrible secret of why people who write letters to the editor sound crazy, and also that Christmas would be cancelled.

To Whom It May Concern:

…It breaks my heart that I hear about abortion and Petri dishes from the pulpit… every week, but issues like poverty and caring for our fellow man– about which, incidentally, Jesus actually had something to say– never come up on Sunday…. It is downright infuriating to see the extent to which… Republican politics keep finding their way onto the altar. [I drink Christian blood from a hollowed-out Bible. I need stem cells to clone our Fuhrer.]

Sincerely,

Jimski’s Dad

I knew the name thing was going to be an issue. I was ready for that. My dad and I have shared a name for thirty years, which was always just icing on the cake that is having an eleven-letter Polish surname made entirely of consonants. I will always cherish the character-building experience of being seventeen years old and having girls call the house, only to hear my mom ask them, “Do you mean Big Jim or Little Jim?” I’m not bitter about that. Six feet tall, shaving before I drive my car to my college interview, and I’m getting “Little Jim.” “The father or the son?” would have done the job, but it’s fine. I could live with it, big smile, just name your son Gustav and put it behind you. What I had a harder time with was that, as I got older, my dad got also got older, as well as more devoutly religious and somehow more forceful in his opinions. Dad eventually retired, and retirement could mean only one thing: letter after letter to the editor with my name signed at the bottom.

When Ray [Hartmann] stated it was an embarrassment that Missouri passed Amendment 2, I presume he was referring to the embarrassment of the 28% who voted to reject the sanctity of marriage. Signed, Jimski

-Donnybrook, August 12, 2004

So I have to admit that as I wrote my letter, all the calls I have fielded from old friends saying, “My brother is gay, you ass!” were not miles from my mind. “Let’s see how he likes it,” I may have remarked in an unguarded moment. But honestly, in my naive, puppy-like heart, I truly believed that my thoughts as written were nothing to get upset about. My family loves Christmas, right? Who’s going to get in my face about keeping the church’s Christmas about baby Jesus? It’s a little nuanced, but we’re all more or less on the same page here, right?

Here is why I am an idiot:

(this is only a partial list.)

• When your writing is somewhere besides your web site, the people printing it can change it however they want. Sometimes, they can take the entire point right out.
• While I did take into account the fact that my father and I have the same name, I forgot that in his retirement my father had taken a job with the local Catholic Church’s pro-life office. We as a family became aware of my publication when every priest and parishoner at my dad’s church called him Saturday morning to find out when he decided to give the devil his soul for Christmas.
• The source of my original frustration was that the local Church was using Advent to talk about stem cells, and I didn’t think Advent was the time to get people angry about stuff like that. Having written my letter, I have now guaranteed that people will be shouting at me about stem cells for the remainder of the holiday season. Oh, shit! “The Christmas season”! I meant “the Christmas season!” I don’t even know why I said “holiday”! I’m sorry!
• If you say you’re tired of the Church being political, that means you love stem cell research and won’t be happy until winged monkey bodies with baby heads are flying out of labs all across this country.
• Calling the local church leaders “divisive” and “inflammatory” is sounding pretty funny right about now, eh, funny man? Good thing nobody’s dividing or inflaming people around here, eh Copernicus? Cheer up, though: at least they didn’t print that part.

Here’s the good news: my refresher course was a complete success. A+ for me. As much as I struggled to keep these things to myself/my site before, the old me will look like friggin’ Michael Moore compared to the new me. Send the word out: cancel the death threats! Intimidated into silence! Already taken care of! As you were! I got my year-end booster shot; it just wasn’t the one I expected.

Jimski Writing Crutch Count:
-exclamation points: 22
-italics for emphasis: 8
-parentethical asides: 2, possibly a record