How I Lost My Faith . VII - Heresy (continued)

The year 1984 proved to be the most pivotal of my life.  Everything changed for me that year, for better or worse.  My mind was awash with ideas and entirely new ways of thinking about the universe and my place in it.  That year I created the first draft of my own language and decided that a fantastic and potentially highly-lucrative project would be the creation of a massive astrological ephemeris in chart form.  The works of Velikovsky, particularly Worlds in Collision, were at the top of my reading list (I read a lot back then), providing me with a clear, thoroughly-researched and expounded scientific explanation of events recorded in the Bible as divine miracles, as well as a reason to avoid the teachings of Jehovah's Witnesses that I knew would bury me in guilt and shame, as they stood in stark contrast to Velikovsky's theories.

All of this was complete and utter heresy!

The Bible specifically condemns astrology as demonic, and the idea that the Ten Plagues of Egypt that led to the Exodus were the result, not of Divine intervention, but of natural forces at play during a near-earth collision with a comet was anathema to Jehovah's Witnesses.  So why, one might ask, would someone who'd been a spiritual and God-fearing boy from toddler-hood and who'd faced down religious intolerance on a deeply personal level at a very young age suddenly adopt a belief in the occult and unscriptural teachings that could not have been farther from "Bible truth" if the author had written with that intent in mind.

That's actually a very good question, one I've asked myself more times than I can count.  The answer lies in the fact that I've always been very spiritually-minded, and the growing void deep inside me needed to be filled with something.  I could not bear being reminded of the Bible's condemnation of my lifestyle, so I turned to the next best thing: the supernatural, or occult.  That's where astrology came in.  It helped satisfy, at least for a little while, the overwhelming belief that there is something or someone greater than ourselves from whom we all may utlimately benefit, something or someone in control of our—of my—destiny, as well as my need to "create" something with my own hands.

Besides, it wasn't like Velikovsky had simply pulled his theories out of his butt and had them printed.  He spent nearly a decade researching material for Worlds in Collision and Ages in Chaos and the sheer volume of footnotes and references (well over 1,000 in Worlds in Collision alone) made it something I determined to take very seriously.  Since most of his books were out of print, I searched local libraries until I'd gathered all of them and prepared to dive into his material with the same passion and gusty with which I'd previously studied the Bible.

Unfortunately, right about that same time—the summer of 1984—I made a rash of fiscally-unsound decisions that led to a complete change in circumstances, and not for the better.  I had reached a very critical cross-roads in my life and I needed to go somewhere, anywhere but the east coast.  

I decided to go west.  I'd never seen California (or anything west of Oklahoma, even), so one day I threw everything I could fit into my car, a 1985 burgundy Chevy Malibu, locked the rest in my apartment, and hit the road, my sights firmly set on the Pacific Ocean.  I took with me all of the library copies of Velikovsky's works; I would need them to continue my search for the real "truth."  Ironically, I also took all of the Watchtower literature I'd kept...and about $300-worth of gay porn.  

The contents of the trunk of my car were a clear reflection of the terribly-disarranged state of affairs that had become my life by the fall of 1984: heretical theories that eliminated God from the equation, Bibles and Bible-based literature, and boxes of pornography.  At the very least, one could say I was more-than-a-little confused by that point.  Who would I turn out to be?  I had no idea, but I endeavored to cover all my bases, just in case.

I basically fled the east coast with the intent of changing my name and identity and starting over from scratch.  Even though I've expressed that the first half of the 1980s was for me the best time of my life, in certain aspects it was a complete disaster.  By the time I turned 21, my credit was so screwed up it was a miracle I still had a checking account.  I had no real grasp on the notion of fiscal responsibility back then, and it cost me dearly.

So, in September of 1984 I hit the road, on what I considered to be the greatest adventure of my young life...one that would change the course of my life forever.

How I Lost My Faith . VII - Introduction to Heresy

In 1974, two men, Dr, John Gribbin and Stephen Plagemann, published a book entitled, "The Jupiter Effect."  Therein, they predicted that the world would experience a devastating cataclysm in 1982 as all of the planets in our solar system gathered on the same side of the sun as the earth and the combined gravitational pull of all these bodies would severely strain the earth's crust, causing a shift in the earth's rotation that would lead to global destruction the likes of which mankind (allegedly) had never before experienced.  There was a movie released in 1982, as well.

I don't remember much of the specifics, but I remember being utterly enthralled by this theory.  I'd been deeply convinced since the age of 10 that this world was coming to an end, not by some chance alignment of the planets, but by the hand of God as He waged war against Satan the Devil at the batle of Armageddon, which, for Jehovah's Witnesses, was (and still is) always "just around the corner".  This "chance" alignment could simply be Jehovah's way of making it happen.

Of course, the world didn't end in 1982.   If it had, my life would likely have ended then, as well, as I was not even trying to be "one of Jehovah's Witnesses," which, back then, meant near-certain death for those outside of their organization.  Even though I was out of the closet and being my (real) self, I always had in the back of my mind the belief that someday God would destroy this wicked world and, even though I'd never survive into the promised "Paradise on Earth," the one that caused me to be so despicable in God's eyes—Satan the Devil—would himself be destroyed.  Somehow, I was able to glean a sense of justice from this conviction, and I wrote about it in a journal in the late '80s, in pretty much the same words: "At least I know that the one who caused me to be this way [gay] will himself be destroyed forever."

Sometime around 1982/83, I discovered a series of books written by one Immanuel Velikovsky.  The first one, published in 1950, was Worlds in Collision, wherein a startling new approach to ancient history and the Bible was introduced, and it was right up my alley!  Velikovsky proposed that events described in the Old Testament surrounding the Israelites' exodus from Egypt, the forty years spent wandering in the wilderness and events experienced in the time of Joshua's conquest of Caanan—interpreted for millenia as miracles from God—had actually taken place, but were not miracles.  Instead, they were the result of a near-collision of the earth with another, near-earth-sized celestial body: a comet ejected from the core of Jupiter that eventually settled into orbit around our sun and became the planet Venus.

This was complete and utter heresy!  Velikovsky took away the Divine nature of so-called miracles and replaced it with something that made complete sense to me.  The thoroughness and sheer scope of his research was virtually unheard of, at least by me, all but eclipsing that of the Watchtower Society up to that point, and the book, The Two Babylons, by one Rev. Alexander Hislop (begun in 1853 as a pamphlet and published in book form in 1919).  I have always been fascinated by researching and libraries, and had begun building one of my own—a number of volumes of which I still have today—so I devoured these books, and others like them, like candy.  I was all-but-obsessed with the means by which Jehovah God would cleanse the earth—even though I never believed I would actually benefit from it—and these books, The Jupiter Effect, Worlds in Collision, and Earth in Upheaval (also by Velikovsky), gave me many, many hours of enjoyable speculation as to the nature of what was about to strike the human race.

To this day, many of my favorite movies and TV shows are about global cataclysm and the complete chaos that would inevitably ensue: Armageddon, Deep Impact, 2012, Jericho, as well as alien-instigated devastation like that in Independence Day, Battle L.A., Battleship and others.  The more realistic the portrayal of devastation, the better.  It's not at all about the death and destruction, but about cleansing and rebirth.  We as a species are out of control and some kind of external intervention is required before we get it right, in whatever form it may come; I've always felt this way and feel so far more strongly today.  It is my understanding of the possible nature of that intervention that has changed.

Of course, the world hasn't ended yet.  Had Gribbin and Plagemann been right, human civilization would have been all but wiped out in the throes of catastrophic global upheaval.  Had the Witnesses been right about certain calculations based on certain Bible prophecies, Armageddon would have come and gone and this planet would have begun it's transformation into the "new (paradise) earth" two or three decades ago.  Either way, our world as we've known it should have ended in the 1980s, for better or for worse.  For me, however, it wasn't this world in the physical sense that ended that decade, it was my world...but more about that later.

During my four-year hiatus from Jehovah's Witnesses, I gave a lot of thought to the end of the world, but little-to-no thought about what I needed to do spiritually to have any chance of surviving whatever was coming.  I had no desire to return to the bigotted, homophobic elder body of the local Kingdom Hall, and once I moved to the D.C./Maryland area, I didn't think of them at all.  But I knew that, deep, deep down inside me, a void was opening up.  I needed more than bars and parties and sex.  Those were excellent distractions, but they held no substance.  I began searching for something meaningful and substantive to do with my life.  My job was just a job, and I had no real purpose in life.  So I decided to revive an early skill of mine, calligraphy.

As a late teen, I'd begun writing out parts of the Bible in calligraphic script, usually uncial.  It had been my goal back then to write the entire Bible this, an act of deep love and respect.  While the Bible was out of the question in 1983, my talent would find expression and it did in a big way when I discovered a book on "magical alphabets".  I cared nothing for the "magical" part, but became thoroughly enthralled with alphabets.  I remembered J.R.R. Tolkien's elvish alphabet from Lord of the Rings (which I'd read two or three times at that point)—and sparks started flying everywhere.  I found all the books I could on ancient languages and their alphabets and xeroxed a veritable books' worth of pages to pour over, and I dove head-first into the creation of my own language, one that no one would ever be able to understand—including, as it turned out, even myself!  

An ancient language with an ancient character set that no one can read!  Imagine: I could write out the Bible, artifically age the document, then bury it somewhere for archaelogists to find and puzzle over for years to come!  YES!

I compiled my own alphabet by mixing characters from many different alphabets from around the world, picking out the ones that seemed like they belonged together.  My first draft was beautiful and since I needed to something write about, the only thing that seemed worthy was the Bible, specifically the New World Translation used by Jehovah's Witnesses.  I had no interest in what it said about me and my lifestyle, just the text; I translated/transcribed the first three chapters of Genesis before I was done with that version of my language.  Of course, by the time I'd made it that far, I couldn't even read the first chapter, I'd made things so complicated.

While I had no desire to expose myself to the Bible's message about how bad me and my lifestyle was, I had a nagging desire fill the spiritual void growing inside me.  What could I do from which others could benefit?  I began exploring the occult and came upon an aspect of astrology I'd never before been made aware: the ephemeris, a chart outlining the positions of the sun, moon and planets for any given day of the year.  I was a whiz at mechanical drafting and decided to combine my interests into one enormous project: an ephemeris on steroids, one that showed the planetary alignment for each hour of each day, one month per volume—in graphical form.  It would bascially be an astrological chart for each day of the year, eliminating the need for creating such charts from scratch.  I knew it would be a massive undertaking, but I thrilled at the prospect of completing such a project. 

I had a goal, a purpose, a belief that there was something to astrology, if you really dug into the precise alignments and inter-relationships of the planets, and this ephemeris would be the ultimate tool for helping people find meaningful answers to the questions plaguing them, as well as myself.

To be continued...

How I Lost My Faith . VI - Hiatus

The years between 1981 and 1985 were hands-down the best years of my entire life.  I was free, I was OUT of the closet and did not give a damn who knew!  I was never all that obvious; I was never "queeny" or into drag or anything, but I never hid it, flirting with straight friends working at the mall and such.  I made friends very easily and was soon a regular at several of the gay bars in Washington, D.C.  It was quite an event among my friends and I when my 21st birthday finally arrived and I could finally drink rum and coke (legally, that is)!   I also discovered sex clubs where I could spend entire nights having totally-anonymous sex with as many men as I possibly could. 

I'm quite certain that it was during this period that I contracted the HIV virus, though I wouldn't know it for five or six years yet.

I was a very-well-read young man, and my studies with Jehovah's Witnesses had been so thorough over the decade since my family met them that I could generally reason circles around most people when it came to the Bible.  I had come to believe at my very core that Jehovah's Witnesses had "The Truth".  I knew enough about the beliefs of other religions, especially the Baptist Church, to believe with all my heart that the Witnesses had the only answers that actually made sense and were taken straight from the Bible, to boot.  At the time, I had no delusions in this regard: Jehovah's Witnesses were the only true religion and that's what I needed to aspire to be.  After my last encounter with a group of elders, however, I felt utterly abashed and knew that I could never live up to the image I'd formed of the "perfect Christian."

So I stopped trying, and avoided reminders of such things like the plague; any discussion about God and the Bible became anathema to me.  If I saw a preacher on the TV, I would quickly turn the channel; if I didn't, I'd find myself yelling at the TV, citing Scripture after Scripture in refutation of whatever nonsense the preacher was spouting.  Seriously, I would get extremely angry at these people, misquoting and misapplying the Bible, jabbering on about things they knew little-to-nothing about, and asking for money in return at every opportunity; it was obscene!  My friends learned to avoid such discussions and TV shows when I was around.

Now, there are many gay men and women who have always felt that God made them the way they are and so there is nothing wrong with being gay.  While I now believe similarly, such was not always the case.  As far as I was concerned back then, since my homosexuality was never actually a choice, it had nothing to do with whether or not God had made me this way.  Instead, it had everything to do with the environment in which I was raised: female-dominant, no father-figure—a classbook case of "environmently-induced homosexuality".  The nightmarish images/memories of certain events in my early childhood lent much credence to this conclusion, especially since, to this day, I cannot even begin to consider intimate relations with a 'female of the species' without getting nauseous.

Since, in my mind, my being gay was not a choice and could not be genetic (hadn't they proven it was an illness?), it had to be due to the way I was raised.  That meant, somewhere in the back of my mind, that there was hope for me, that maybe Jehovah God could somehow, someday forgive me for what I was and that I could change—somehow.  However, since I could not reconcile my openly-gay, debauched life with what I'd come to believe was the proper image of a "true Christian," I shut that entire side of myself off and remained free and gay and completely out of the closet for the next four years.

That four-year hiatus was the best time of my life, a time when I actually liked myself and was genuinely happy, with few real cares and virtually no fear—a time spent blissfully unaware of the life-altering crises looming on the horizon.