Dan's Conundrum - 15. Chapter 15

Imagine your parents are very ill and they need your help. That you alone possess the antidote, a cure in the form of rational thinking that stops them from hating you for whom and what you are. Now you hold the syringe in one hand. It is your chance to make this family right again.

Would you do it?

Once we got home that evening it took just three words uttered on the dining table: God is just. Too long I had suffered in silence. Too long I had tolerated their prayers, their love for God and the teachings that ruined my life. I must cure them before it was too late.

‘God is not just,’ I remarked.

The room temperature dropped ten Celsius as the words ricocheted off walls and ceiling like mini-icicles. It was a statement, a challenge to a debate. Not that I particularly cared about religion but I cared passionately about my family. If they had to be reasoned with in a debate then so be it.

Dad turned to me, his voice cold as ice, ‘How is God not just?’

That was not hard to answer. ‘God cannot be just, if he would rather kill all first-borns of Egypt than send angels to fly the Israelites out – or any other way without spilling innocent blood. He can’t be just, if he told his people that a village must be burned to the ground if one person so much worshipped another god.’

‘God acts in mysterious ways,’ Dad replied. ‘We don’t always understand – nor do we have to.’

No good to me. God could get away with anything then, particularly mass murdering people he claimed he loved.

‘How is Lot, who offered his own daughters to mobs for rape, who later impregnated his own daughters, a righteous man that God would save when he burned cities to the ground? What justice is that?’

I half expected Dad would say ‘God is infinitely just and wise, as recorded in the Bible’. That would be stubbornness, which came in varying degrees of severity as long as there was faith. The nature of faith was to believe it was virtuous to deny all evidence that pointed towards the contrary.

Sensing my trap, Dad shifted the focus of the argument, ‘That’s in the Old Testament. Sin could not be tolerated then. The New Testament is more important.’

With what zeal they cling to this garbage! By now I was unstoppable. ‘Let me ask you two questions. Who is more guilty, the Tempted or the Tempter? And who is guiltier, the Tempter or the one who created the Tempter knowing what he will become? Don’t you see all this is a lie? Sure, the New Testament didn’t say non-virgins should be stoned on their wedding nights but in so many ways…they’re just the same.’

‘Same?’ Dad glared at me, slightly raising his voice. Mum had put down her chopsticks to listen. ‘Name some,’ he ordered.

I regretted it now. They were not the same. I’d said it because they both decreed I would not inherit the kingdom of God, that I was an undesirable. I would be stoned in the Old, but not the New. In the New, I can be gay as long as I don’t do anything gay. Even if I did, I could still repent truly and be forgiven. Repent truly by never doing it again.

That meant I could do it once, if I were Christian.

‘Well?’ Dad prompted.

Old Testament, New Testament…whatever. They were the same to me. They both condemned me and left me with nothing. They shaped the society’s view on me. They took my family from me. How were they not the same? Can’t my parents see that in my eyes?

‘They unify minds,’ I said, a little hurt but I wouldn’t let it show. ‘Both testaments sought to unify morals, ideals, beliefs and values to create a better society. They separate the grey into light and dark. Do not yoke with unbelievers, because goodness cannot be paired with wickedness. Unbelievers are “wicked” just because they don’t believe. It’s divisive. This is poison, don’t you see?’

Slamming the table at my remark, Dad stood up as his eyes burned right through mine. He was going to hit me, I thought. I had forgotten how physically frightened I was of my Dad. He hadn’t hit me since that horrible thing I said to Grandma years ago, but he could do it again. Now resurfacing in my mind was the image of a young man, lying, twitching and in serious pain in the middle of the street, his nose bloodied. Maybe one day, I would be him too.

‘I don’t care what you’re playing at but it’s not working, okay?’ he spoke with venom. ‘If you don’t believe, that’s fine. But He feels real to me, alright?’

‘Tse-Ho,’ Mum said finally, surprising us both. Her face was stern. ‘I think you should leave the room.’

I stood and left without a word. Dad was still standing as he saw me off. I felt like crying. I never thought that my parents didn’t want my help. They didn’t want to be cured. They wanted God. My fate was all but sealed. I just knew it. If one day I would come out to them, they would choose God over me because the Bible told them so.

* * * * *

This was life.

So often in church we were told how many souls we’d saved and redeemed. But how many had we forced to jump a cliff? This was the price of living: wherever I go, whatever I do, the church would be there to let me know I was not welcomed. They would be there to oppose every part of my life. To have a boyfriend (and my heart truly do ache when I write this word), I could see men in black standing at my door, telling me I was going to hell. To get married – to a guy no less – I would also be opposed. They needn’t to know how much these things would mean for me, they wouldn’t care. They just oppose.

Could it be possible that the church with its long and bloody history had killed more people than gays ever did? Why are we more ready to accept teachings of the church than gay marriage? Every Sunday, thousands of people leave their churches with their hatred for me renewed, never more ready to combat and make my life difficult. The church had poisoned my family: first my parents, now my grandparents and my uncle’s family too. I could never be honest with them. They’d never give up their Bible for me. This was life.

Perhaps I ought to just die, you know? Thinking on my journey, the people I had left behind and hurt, it might have been better if I hadn’t existed. I was a mistake. Why can I not bring delight to others when they have to me? Why can I not be someone who everyone wants to see? I am not David – everyone wants him around. I am not Chris, who in his own way is still a likeable person. Everywhere I go, someone gets hurt eventually.

Maybe I am a horrible person.

I want to die. I don’t want anyone to grief for me. I just want to go quietly. If only there is a way…

Following gentle knocks, the door opened slightly and Mum’s head peeped through.

‘Are you going to finish your dinner?’ she asked softly.

‘I’m not hungry.’ I sniffed, holding back a tear.

She came in, concerned. She walked over and sat on the side of my bed. We didn’t speak. She waited a minute or two.

‘Tse-Ho, I don’t know what happened but…’ she stopped. ‘It’s like we don’t know you anymore.’

I looked at her, unsure what to say.

‘It’s probably our fault but we thought you could have faith like your father and me,’ she said, smiling sadly. ‘We were wrong and if you don’t want to believe it’s okay. But now…’ she struggled for the right words. ‘It’s like we’ve lost you.’

‘I’m still here,’ I managed to say.

‘I don’t know about you, but when I see my family,’ she went on, ‘I see a crack.’

A crack. A tear in the family photo. And that was my doing too.

‘Mum…’

‘You used to be a lovely boy, you know? Confident and all that sparkle in your eyes,’ she said. ‘We lost all that when we came here. That’s not what we wanted – we wanted you to be happy. We don’t know what this country’s doing to you sometimes.’

‘Mum…I just don’t feel like I’m the same person, you know?’

She nodded. Her sad expression told me she knew that as time passes, it takes her child away too.

‘Can we not talk about God anymore, in this house?’ she offered. ‘A truce?’

I nodded. But there was one more question I had to ask.

‘Did my eyes really sparkle?’

‘Yes. And you have the most charming laugh in the house. You used to tell us anything. Bad day in school, bad prefects…’

‘Mum, there’s too much to tell. Too many things I wish I could tell…’

‘And you couldn’t?’

No. Not yet. This isn’t the time. I shook my head.

She bit her bottom lip, stood up, turned away and looked back for a moment, unable to make up her mind.

She looked disappointed as she said, ‘Look, Tse-Ho. We’re family. We are always open to you and you can tell us anything. I’m so sorry you don’t feel that way. We’re family, Tse-Ho. We’ll always be here for you.’

She headed towards the door, and just before closing it, she added,

‘No matter what.’