(The following was my contribution to an essay in the St. Ignatius Loyola newsletter.)

I’ve been a spiritual seeker all my life. Raised atheist by ex-Mormons, I journeyed through Quakerism and Buddhism, and Centering Prayer acquainted me with Catholic monasticism, which I explored but abandoned. Last year, grace led me into a new close friendship with someone who embodies loving Catholicism. Our rich conversations about spiritual matters and my discovery of St. Augustine’s writings helped me see the Church and a life of faith in an entirely new way. She guided me to St. Ignatius and as I sat near the back that first Sunday, though I had yet to understand the mysteries of the Trinity and Eucharist, the relevance of objects all around me—our amazing RCIA program would later fill those in—the moment the plainchant began, I knew I was no longer a seeker. St. Augustine describes his conversion as returning home, and that’s what it feels like for me. Also like him, I feel called. I’m long past my “formative years” and didn’t convert for a spouse or child, yet I have found myself drawn to this sea change, this awakening, like it was inevitable. As the beautiful Jeremiah passage says, ‘You have seduced me, O God, and I have let myself be seduced.’

So I’m sitting in Saint Patrick’s Cathedral on the first Sunday of Lent, preparing to go up, along with every other person in the New York metro area being baptized Catholic this Easter, one by one, to sign our names in the book and transition from being “catechumens” to being “members of the elect.” I’m sitting there in my suit and tie, overwhelmed by the number of people and the diversity of the crowd and the beauty of the moment. But I’m also steeling myself as I have done at various stages along this nearly year-long path in anticipation that THIS Catholic situation will somehow offend my morals or beliefs. I’m assuming this because I’m outside of the cozy liberal enclave of the Jesuits, out in the messy mainstream Catholic world. I’m assuming this because a lot of the catechumens here are from the Bronx and Staten Island. I’m assuming this because I am about to hear a homily from Cardinal Egan. I know next to nothing about Cardinal Egan except that he was appointed by Pope John Paul II and is one of a few cardinals on the highest canon court of the Church. So I’m expecting something uncomfortably “conservative”—whatever that means.

The Gospel reading, which corresponded to baptism and the beginning of the forty days of Lent, is about Jesus’ forty days in the desert and the temptations that were put before him. Cardinal Egan welcomes us and talks about the Church’s delight at our decision. …

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Coming Out as Straight
By Phil Fox Rose
June 9, 2006

I have not written anything on gender in a couple of years. The main reason for this is that I've had a strong sense that my understanding of it as it relates to me was in flux. Though as a nonfiction writer one must be willing to commit to paper your thoughts of the moment, with full awareness that they will change and probably embarrass you down the road, there are times when you feel your current thought-state is so obviously immature that it would be imprudent to proceed. Such has been the last two years.

Recently, though, things snapped into focus and I've been growing increasingly uncomfortable with the already-published work being my latest words on the subject. So, the point of this is: I'm a straight man. There, I said it. I'm not a lesbian in a man's body; I'm not a post-gender-non-gender something-or-other. I'm a guy. Of course, I'll always be queer in the sense of rejecting society's rules on this subject, and I still don't get most "regular guys". But that doesn't make me a girl. The personal statements that follow are not meant as a challenge to anyone else's choices involving gender identity. If anything is a personal matter, for God's sake, gender identity is it. That said, I'm not going to bar any holds in describing how my thoughts have changed, and some may not like a few of the conclusions I've arrived at. Hope it's …

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This is a new version of my alternate language for s3. After living with what I wrote for over six months, I wanted to make some changes -- make it a little less precious, more straightforward. Again, this alternate language makes it possible to voice the words without reservation, making it a powerful part of my spiritual life. I don't say it is right for anyone else, but it is useful for me:

"I give myself to love — and to the
connectedness of all life, which it represents —
that it may flow through me and guide me.
Relieve me of the bondage of self,
that I may better serve to advance that Oneness.
Let the grace that fills me when I act out of love
remove my difficulties, that victory over them
may bear witness of its power to those I would help.
May I abide in love always."
- Phil R.

Mostly I love seasons, nature, cycles, and this is where I live so this is where I'm experiencing that. But I guess — in the snow series and this one — I'm also looking at the juxtaposition of nature with ultra-urban culture. (That sound like an artist explaining their work. Ick. These are just snapshots. Look at the pretty pictures, k?)

Proof that you can make a business of anything. The bigger question: What were they doing on St. Marks, a few miles from anything corporate? My guess is a paranoid consipracy theorist on my block decided mass shredding had to happen immediately.

Last week in NYC we had a blizzard with a foot of snow, single-digit temperatures and 50mph winds. It's funny. In Maine, that would be unexceptional, but down here it's just shy of the apocalypse. It's like when I was growing up in NY and would laugh when Southerners had freezing weather and an inch of snow and everything shut down and cars were sliding off the roads left and right. Now, having lived through a half dozen winters in Midcoast Maine, I watch fellow New Yorkers prepare for storms and cold with bemusement. Ya call this weather?! Sheesh. Also their understanding of cold weather dress is so uninformed. Every time I go out in sub-freezing weather here at least one if not several people say something about my being underdressed, when I'm the warmest one there. They all have puffy parkas or bulky wool coats and all the accessories. I'm wearing what I wore to feed the sheep at 7am in 30 below in Maine: t-shirt under a double-thick sweater under a lined barn coat, plus cap, neck warmer and mittens. (The actual items. There's still straw dust in the pocket of the barn coat a decade later, which makes me smile.) I don't think it's possible to be cold in that, with all the layers trapping warm air. But they think you have to look like the Michelin Man to be warm. I actually miss the severity of weather up north. It feels real. Something about respecting nature …

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I always think it's cool when New York has a blizzard. People walk in the street, things slow down, people seem festive. When I left earlier, around 6, the snow was falling hard, cars were slipping around -- it was cool, and I didn't have my camera. Later we were tromping around the Upper East Side throwing snowballs at each other and I didn't have my camera. Well, I took some when I finally got home at about 1am. The snow had calmed down, but it was still pretty.

A new TV ad campaign by the United Church of Christ (including the Congregationalists) shows a conservative church with a velvet rope and bouncers turning away anyone who is gay, non-white or weird looking. The ad says, "Jesus didn't turn people away. Neither do we. No matter who you are, or where you are on life's journey, you are welcome here." CBS and NBC have refused to air the ads. "Because this commercial touches on the exclusion of gay couples and other minority groups by other individuals and organizations," says CBS, "and the fact the Executive Branch has recently proposed a Constitutional Amendment to define marriage as a union between a man and a woman, this spot is unacceptable for broadcast on the [CBS and UPN] networks." NBC, home of Will & Grace and Queer Eye, just said it was "too controversial." You can see the ad at http://www.stillspeaking.com/default.htm If I were a member of a conservative church where only blonde heterosexual couples in blue suits and pink summer dresses with perfect children were welcome, I'd certainly get the message from this ad that I was being criticized. I could understand if a network feared their wrath and didn't want to show it for that reason. What's disturbing about the CBS response is that they cite the executive branch's opposition to gay marriage as the reason it's "too controversial." So apparently, they're saying that since the President opposes gay marriage, this is the official baseline for our society, and …

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As I talk to friends and read blog entries about trips to visit family for Thanksgiving, and decompress from the visit I just had from my ex-wife on her own way to a Thanksgiving feast with her new partner's family, I'm struck by the fact that while I feel melancholy, it's not over my family being gone, it's over not having a partner to share the holidays with. I'm a sentimental ninny -- I will go on a Christmas window outing every year, decorate a tree, see Handel's Messiah, and generally enjoy strolling around my East Village neighborhood streets where trees and lampposts are strewn with strings of little white lights and boutique after boutique offers the perfect gift for that hard-to-get-a-gift-for friend. The nip in the air, the smell of soup, fogged windows from warm bodies inside: all put a smile on my face. For me, the holiday season never led to suicidal states. It was always a Good month, annoyingly interrupted by a few one-day family events. Those days could be horrific, but I didn't generally blame the season for them. Family holidays have faded into background memory. My family of semi-choice is more fun. But this year, despite my life being good, and despite its being the fourth holiday season in a row that I'm single, it feels different. I think the fact that my life is good may be the reason my singleness is more problematic. These last few years, I have given the holidays far …

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