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It was almost 3 years ago when my priest asked me to become an altar server at my Vancouver parish. This was right after I came out of the closet to him. At the time, I was in a deep state of depression; part of it was caused by my wrestling with my own sexuality. Since I was a young boy, I always had a relationship with God. What is unique about my experience is that I did not grow up in the Church, but came from an atheist family. In fact, I came out of the closet the same year that I formally converted to the Anglican Church. Still for a few years after that, I was struggling coming to terms with my sexuality.

At that moment, I was stuck at home, unemployed, and overcome with anxiety. So I said yes and entered into the mysterious world of altar serving. My job every Sunday involves bringing the bread and wine for Communion, carrying the candles, and assisting the priests in the prayers. There is a joke somewhere about why gay men love being altar boys. Perhaps it has something to do with running around in a dress.

Part of my coming out has to do with my involvement as a server in church. Historically in Anglican and Roman Catholic churches, the sanctuary was separated from the rest of the church by an altar rail. The sanctuary was the abode of male priests who would carry on the work of God while the ordinary parishioners looked onwards. In some ways, this physical separation symbolized the separation between the Church and the world. The inner sanctuary was holy, clean and righteous, while the outside was profane, dirty and foreign. Some current Church leaders still perpetuate that division whenever they publicly preach against homosexuality, abortion or other moral issues. We are the Church, holy, righteous and pure. You are the world, sinful, wicked, and lost.

During my first training session, one of my priests sternly said to me “The Altar does not bite.” He spoke of my own reluctance to touch the altar, the symbol of the body of Christ. Indeed in the beginning, I had mixed emotions over the prospect of becoming a server. Who am I to touch the very body of God?

Over time, the division between inside and outside slowly dissipated as I adjusted to becoming part of the team. The first thing that I found out is that altar servers are just like everyone else. To recite an overused cliché, people are people. The same emotions of loneliness, joy, sadness, anger, and excitement are found in everyone. So I slowly started to laugh again, even though at that time, I still was unemployed and somewhat down on myself. As I kept on carrying the candles, bringing the bread and wine and genuflecting, I, not only fell in love with God, but began to learn that God has fallen in love with me.

So here am I, three years later, at a different church in a different city. I’m still wearing my cassock and cotta and worrying about any little missteps I might make during Mass. After communion is finished, I head to the altar to take the consecrated bread and wine to the credence table at the back. As I walk with the sacred vessels, for a moment I realize that I was holding Jesus in my hands. The controversies, the heated words, and the political debates do not change the fact that at this very moment, Jesus is being held by people. Jesus is being held as two gay lovers in Uganda are embracing each other in fear and trembling as the police are throwing their compatriots in prison. Jesus is being held as a battered woman is embraced at the local shelter after she has escaped from her violent husband. Jesus is being held as an HIV positive child is being carried by her grandmother as she watches her mother’s casket being lowered to the grave.

“Who am I to touch the body of God?” We all touch the Holy, in our friendships, our love-making and our encounters with strangers. The Divine allows herself to be touched, embraced, celebrated and loved. We just have to accept the invitation.

Submitted By: Justin C.

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