ODE TO JOY “I lost so many friends in the 1980's”…an 80-year-old gay man

Fear, palatable, living moving, slithering through the hallways. I had never seen nurses flat-out scared. They warned they whispered, saying “don’t touch his brother’s dressings. You might get AIDS.” For some reason, I was calm, even excited, or maybe hyper-aware of my surroundings. I had been called into the hospital as the “code” chaplain (when a person dies or there is a major crisis). I think I was wearing blue jeans and a regular shirt. No collar, no special cross. Nothing to set me apart. Really it was a good thing, as the mom and son and friend (partner?) were economically challenged (we did not use those words then, actually they were dirt poor). Mom looked resigned to her fate, one son had died another had lost his eye to the “plague.” No crying, no wailing, no wringing of hands, just a quiet acceptance. This plague was called a just death to gay men. It was called god’s retribution. It was called all this and more by fear that slithered under the doorways and into the bedrooms of men who did horrible things.

The friend (partner? look we did not have the language then) was a brave, noble man. He said, “I am going to see him.” I said, without a minute’s hesitation, “I will go with you.” The man was dead, not even cleaned up, the nurses had not even touched him. We spent considerable time with a man who had been literally thrown to the curb, no dignity, no care, just left for the mortician. He was dead. I have seen many dead people including suicide victims, babies, young and old. Every one of them was treated with respect and care by the nurses and morticians. Not here. Just Partner and me, staying looking. Waiting. Partner looked into the man’s eyes, at his face and hand. As I said, he was a brave man, facing death without fear. Like Mom and Brother, acceptance, resignation, as if to say “this is our fate.”

Partner and I left the room. Maybe I saw an apparition, but what I saw was an angel sitting on the arm of the wingchair Mom occupied. When I said, “you may not believe this, but I beheld an angel sitting by you.” She got a knowing smile and replied, “Oh, I believe.” The angels sang while the nurses feared, while the religious judged, while even I wondered what this plague AIDS was going to bring.

Rolling the camera to the modern-day, both of my sexually active Gay sons tell their mom and myself that they get tested regularly, and they take PrEp. Ode to joy. My late 30’s gay sons may not die of AIDS. Yet, I wonder, did the religious folk, did our nation get anywhere? Do any of us really comprehend the cost of judgment, bigotry, and hidden fear? Do we see the angels, or do we even stop to listen to the music?

Another plague, now not so restrictive, brings fear and death to all homes. While it took years to develop effective drugs for AIDS, most of the world including our nation holds this new plague as an incurable disease. Preachers spit out lies, proud white men carry guns and clubs and use this opportunity to beat and kill the marginalized. They blame everyone, looking for a scapegoat, a victim to blame. Girard’s mechanism where “violence tends to converge on the same victim. The violence of all against all gives way to the violence of all against one” stalks the streets, capitol buildings, school council halls, seeking some to lay the blame upon someone. Just like in the 1980s people tend to find anything to dismiss their fear, blame the powerless, and take up torches and guns. I never believed god brought AIDS, nor do I believe god unleased COVID.

My sons check-in. They are doing OK. No HIV. No AIDS. Yet, I wonder what death may be for them. Will they die at their own hands? Will the medicine stop working? Will someone once again victimize them and their community? I believe Death stalks the LGBTQIA community, not because they have done some awful thing, but we on the outside have.

Will I become that 80 some year old man saying, “ I lost my sons to a mob, to a club or gun?” Or will I die peacefully with all my children and grandchildren by my side?

Is there a cure to death? No, but living death, fear that slithers along and under the doorways can be cured. AIDS and COVID death can be lonely, and scary. But, neither have to be solitary. Both are attended by the angels of mercy either from otherworldly places or from this world.

The cure to the fear of death is found in a new worldview, where we stop and sing with the angels. As Beethoven penned:

All Thy works with joy surround Thee,
Earth and heaven reflect Thy rays,
Stars and angels sing around Thee,
Center of unbroken praise.
Field and forest, vale and mountain,
Flowery meadow, flashing sea,
Singing bird and flowing fountain,
Call us to rejoice in Thee.

If the universe sings out in this time of darkness and death, what is stopping us from joining the Ode to Joy? Fear that slithered in the hospital all those years ago still is manifest among us today. Yet, maybe, just maybe if we join in the chorus of rejoicing, fear of death, and the attendant xenophobia, myopic, systematic hatred, and bigotry will slow down. People will not beat death, but all of us can change from scared nurses to brave Partners, and we will see the angels and hear them singing.

Ludwig Van Beethoven, Ode to Joy https://makingmusicfun.net/htm/f_mmf_music_library_songbook/ode-to-joy-lyrics.php

Rene’ Girard, Scapegoat Mechanism, The Scapegoat, pub. 1986, https://violenceandreligion.com/mimetic-theory/