We had had our first group meeting with Dr. Cushing, and Peter and I had met with him a couple of times separately. After the second appointments, there was clearly a problem between Peter and his mother. It wasn’t until we were at my house later in the day that Peter told me about his brother, Tommy, who had died in a terrible accident. I sympathized as best I could, but what can you say about a tragedy which seemed to be tearing his family apart?
Happily, the next day he told me about the long talk his mother and father had had, and that his mother was going to contact Dr. Cushing to get some help. A few days later, he told me that he and his parents had begun talking about Tommy. He was so relieved I could hear it in his voice, and I told him how happy I was for them all.
Meanwhile, my parents and I had started talking about their religious objections to homosexuality. At my father’s request, I had read the Genesis story about Sodom and Gomorrah. In fact, I read it several times.
The next time we sat down to talk, I said, “I understand that the men of Sodom wanted to rape the Angels, but I don’t think the story really says anything about a loving, caring, homosexual relationship.”
“That might be true,” my mother responded, “but ‘sodomy’ has always meant certain homosexual acts which are against nature.”
I made a mental note to look up ‘sodomy.’ I went on, “The Concordance sent me to Ezekiel, where, in Chapter 16 it talks about the Sodomites being guilty of things like gluttony, laziness, and greed, but doesn’t mention men having relationships with men.”
“There are other passages,” my father said, “which speak about homosexuality. I’ll make a list of them for you, so you can read them for yourself.”
The next day in school, I handed Peter a note that said, “If you don’t know what it means, look up ‘sodomy,’ and gave him my most angelic smile. In the afternoon he handed me a similar note. It read, “Wow, that sounds like fun! I can hardly wait!”
My father did give me a list of passages to read. One of the stories he referred me to was the story of Jonathan and David, in the first book of Samuel. I thought about the story long and hard before our next conversation.
After dinner one evening, I said, “I think I’m ready to talk about David and Jonathan. Just what is it that you object to about their relationship?”
“They were homosexuals,” my father said.
“I couldn’t find that in the story,” I responded. Getting the Bible I said, “Can you show me where it is?”
My father read the Bible constantly, so I was certain there had to be something there which I hadn’t found.
He found his place and spent some minutes reading. Finally, he frowned and said, “Well, it doesn’t say it in so many words, but listen to this,” and he read:
And it came to pass, when he had made an end of speaking unto Saul, that the soul of Jonathan was knit with the soul of David, and Jonathan loved him as his own soul.
“Then, there’s this,” and he read:
Then Jonathan and David made a covenant because he loved him as his own soul. And Jonathan stripped himself of the robe that was upon him, and gave it to David, and his garments, even to his sword, and to his bow, and to his girdle.
“What else could that mean?” he asked.
“It could mean that Jonathan loved David with his heart and soul, and that he gave David gifts, but it says nothing about his body. In fact, didn’t David have sex with women, Bathsheba for example? I think, after reading the story several times, that Saul hated David, not because he had a homosexual relationship with Jonathan, but because the people praised David above Saul. Do you remember the passage that says, ‘They have ascribed unto David ten thousands and to me they have ascribed but thousands.’ I think Saul, in his madness, was jealous of David and wanted to get rid of him.”
Our discussions continued, often in a circular fashion. I knew I wasn’t convincing my parents, but they knew they weren’t convincing me either.
Another time I asked, “Dad, do you believe everything in the Bible?”
“Well, yes, I believe it is the word of God and that it is right and true.”
“Tell me, what would you do if, right now, I cursed you? Don’t worry, I don’t plan to, but what would you do?”
“I’d probably take away a lot of privileges; maybe not let you see Peter for awhile. I suppose it would be something like that.”
“Would you kill me?”
He looked horrified. “Of course not. Why would you think that?”
I handed him the Bible and said, “Look at Exodus 21:17.”
He found the page, smiled ruefully, and read aloud, “And he that curseth his father, or his mother, shall surely be put to death.”
“It says the same thing in Leviticus 20:9.”
He looked it up, smiled again and read, “For every one that curseth his father or his mother shall be surely put to death: he hath cursed his father or his mother; his blood shall be upon him.”
“Well,” he said, “I may not win every point, but at least I’m turning you into a biblical scholar.”
We laughed before I continued, not willing to give up the point, “The Bible says I should be killed for cursing you, so why wouldn’t you kill me?”
“But that’s a very ancient rule, and perhaps it was the custom of the time, but it’s not our custom.”
“But if it’s in the Bible, shouldn’t it be our custom? Are you saying that you believe in the Bible but not all of it?”
“I suppose in a way I am. I’ll need some time to think about this.”
Meanwhile, our appointments with Dr. Cushing continued. I did feel somewhat better after talking with him, but I still felt badly that I couldn’t convince my parents of my side of the discussion.
“You may never convince them and they may never convince you,” Dr. Cushing said one time, “but you can convince them that you have really thought about the question and that you’re sincere in what you say. Ultimately, you all may just have to agree to disagree.”
“Do you think they’ll hate what I do if they can’t convince me otherwise?”
“I’m sure they’ll never hate you. They may always think you’re wrong and pray for you to see things as they do, but I don’t think they will ever cut you off from them again.”
Christmas came at last. Once again, my family went to Peter’s cathedral for the midnight service and gave him a ride home afterwards. Peter and I had agreed that, because I went to his house last year, he would come to mine this year. After we had had presents and Christmas dinner, Peter arrived with a package, which he handed to me. We went into the living room, where my parents were enjoying some after-dinner relaxation and I handed Peter a package. We opened them at the same time and, just as we had last year, we both laughed aloud. Peter had given me a beautiful, red cashmere sweater. I held it up, while he held up the light blue cashmere Cardigan I had given him. The two sweaters were even from the same store. We had to assure my parents several times that we had not done this purposely. Peter said he had given me red because he thought I looked so good in it, while I had given him the light blue one to match his eyes and because I knew it was his favorite color.
After Christmas Dr. Cushing said he thought Peter and I could cut back to one session a week, reminding us that he was available any time we needed him. He also suggested that we try writing about our relationship, beginning with how it started. He suggested that we each write about the first year or so and then compare notes. After that, if we wanted to alternate events, he thought that would work. He added that, if we were willing, he would like to read what we had written and we agreed both to trying the writing and to showing it to him.
One day, Peter came over to my house when Mom hadn’t yet gotten home. I was sure I knew what he was going to say.
Peter looked around and asked, “Are we really alone?”
“Yes, my mother’s a little late today.”
“Then we could go upstairs and have a really hot session and nobody would know!”
“We could, but we won’t.”
“Why not? It’s our first chance in months.”
“Because we both promised our parents that we wouldn’t do it.”
“They’d never know. Come on Christian,” and he tried to pull me toward the stairs.
“Perhaps they wouldn’t, but I think our word is worth a great deal and I’m not willing to sacrifice it. If they can’t trust us now, how can they ever trust us?”
Peter sighed and said, “I suppose you’re right. Well, I guess it’s back to playing the piano.” And that’s exactly what we were doing half an hour later when my mother walked in.
At Easter time, as my father was slicing the ham, I asked, quite innocently or course, “Why do we have ham at Easter?”
“I don’t know. I suppose it’s just a custom in our family. We always have it.”
“But doesn’t the Bible forbid eating pig?”
“Oh, no,” he said, “here we go again.”
“And what about the shrimp cocktail we began with. Aren’t shrimp forbidden in the Bible?”
“Christian,” my mother interrupted, “do we have to turn every time we are together into a theological discussion about homosexuality? I know just where you’re going with this. It’s true we don’t follow a lot of the dietary rules in the Bible which the Jewish people follow. We aren’t Jewish.”
“I know we’re not, but wasn’t Jesus?”
“Christian,” my father put in, “there were a number of times when Jesus chose to ignore or question the rules of the Old Testament, which was his Bible.” I didn’t pursue it any more at the time, and we settled down to a delicious meal of forbidden food, chatting happily about other things.
Peter and I worked hard on the duet we wanted to play for Graduation, a ‘fantasie’ by Franz Schubert. It’s a gorgeous, romantic duet, but it’s very difficult so we knew we had our hands full. We were both going to graduate that year and go to the liberal arts high school in Westbridge. We were looking forward to having a new experience and, perhaps, some new friends.
In early June, I had another conversation about the Bible with my parents. My father had conceded that most of the references in the Old Testament were perhaps questionable, but he insisted that both Paul and Timothy had written against homosexuality.
“But did Jesus ever say anything about it? After all, isn’t he the authority we should be looking to?”
“No,” my father replied, “I don’t believe he did, but Paul and Timothy are still part of the Bible.”
“But who gave them the authority to speak with the voice of God? I read about Saul’s conversion when he became Paul, but all the Bible says is that Jesus called him, ‘a chosen vessel unto me, to bear my name before the Gentiles, and kings, and the children of Israel, For I will shew him how great things he must suffer for my name’s sake.’”
“You don’t believe that Paul and Timothy were speaking for God?”
“No. I think they probably thought they were, but how can we know whether they really were or not? If Jesus didn’t say it, I’m not sure I believe it. If Reverend Braithwaite wrote to us the way Paul wrote to the early Christians, would we take what he said as the word of God or would we think about it and decide what we believed?”
“So you really don’t think that the Bible is the Word of God?”
I needed to go very carefully here, so I thought hard before saying, “I don’t believe it can all be taken literally. I don’t really believe that the Creation story, for instance, is anything more or less than a myth created by the ancient Hebrews to explain what they could not explain, just like the Greek and Roman and Norse myths. I think I believe a lot of the historical stories about the kings and the judges, although I’m not sure I believe in miracles in either part of the Bible. I do believe the story of Jesus and I believe in what the Bible says happened to the early church, but I don’t think that everything the disciples wrote must necessarily be followed by all of us.”
My parents looked very disappointed. By now, they were certainly aware of my outlook, but the Bible was such an important part of their lives that they wanted it to be important to me too. I assured them that the Bible was important in my life too, but sometimes it said something different to me than it did to them. I’m not sure they ever accepted my point of view, but they did know I was being thoughtful and honest.
In mid-June, we had our last full meeting with Dr. Cushing. Neither Peter nor I was looking forward to it, because we weren’t certain how it was going to end. Dr. Cushing began by asking, “Can you all tell me what conclusions you’ve come to in your talks with each other?”
Peter’s father began by saying, “We’ve had some good talks with Peter and we’ve been impressed by how thoughtful he’s been and how he has truly listened to us carefully. That said, I don’t think we’ve persuaded him with our position but I think we respect him for his and I hope he feels the same.”
“I do,” Peter responded. Turning to his parents, he added, “I really didn’t realize how strongly you felt about homosexuality and I do respect that, but I haven’t changed my mind. In fact, if anything, I’m more sure of how I feel now than I was at the beginning.”
My mother continued, “I think we’re in somewhat the same position. Christian has listened to us, as we have to him. He has looked at passages in the Bible very seriously and has given us thoughtful opinions about how he views them. He just doesn’t see them the same way we do, and we are disappointed, but we do know that he is not going ahead thoughtlessly. I think that, for now, we’ll have to accept what he believes as his sincere ideas, but we’ll continue to pray that he eventually comes to our way of thinking.”
I was a little hurt that they still thought they could change me through prayer, but I didn’t say that. Instead, like Peter, I simply confirmed how I felt.
Dr. Cushing continued the discussion by asking about various points that had been raised and how we explained them. Towards the end of the meeting, he said, “I think we probably needn’t keep meeting as a whole group any more, although I assure you I’m available any time you want to meet. I would like to keep seeing the boys, perhaps once a month for awhile longer, if that’s agreeable to all of you.”
It was, and we began to get up to leave. Then Peter said, “I have just one question.”
“I think I know what it is,” his mother said.
“You probably do. I want to know when Christian and can start to become…” he paused, searching for the right term… “more intimate again.”
All the parents looked at each other. Finally, my father spoke. “Peter and Christian, we have discussed this among ourselves, and the conclusion we have come to is that we don’t want you to start again until you are eighteen.”
“But we won’t even be fifteen until next month,” I protested. “Why do we have to wait that long?”
“We understand that you want to begin again right now, but we believe that you need to let your relationship mature more…” He held up his hand as I began to interrupt. “Let me finish first. We know from experience that choosing a partner for life is probably the most important decision we make in our lives. You both are young. I know that you truly believe you love each other, but we think that you need to give that love time to either mature and ripen or to die naturally before you get farther into the emotionally turbulent experience of further sexual passion, which may be just that and not real love at all.”
Peter and I looked at each other. We couldn’t believe what we had heard. Didn’t they understand that we loved each other and we knew it was forever? Finally, Peter said exactly that. “But we already know we love each other, it’s not just about sex, and it’s forever.”
My mother put in, “Boys, we do know that’s what you honestly believe now. But we also know that too often teenage love is just that, and it doesn’t really last. All we’re asking is that you give yourselves time to let yourselves grow some more. If, when you turn eighteen, you still feel the same way, we have all agreed that we’ll support you totally with whatever decision you make. Until then, we really believe that it’s in your best interests to postpone sex.”
Again, Peter and I looked at each other, with matching expressions, I’m sure, of despair. It had been difficult for us to wait this long, and I must admit, half of me wished we had taken the opportunity that day when my mother was late, but the other half remained proud that we had not.
“OK,” I said, “but we have a proposition, because we know that waiting will continue to be extremely hard on both of us.” I looked at Peter and he nodded, because, while we were upset at their proposal, we were not totally surprised, and we had already talked. “If, at the time of our eighteenth birthdays, we’re still determined to go ahead with our relationship, we want to have a little ceremony, with all of you there, including you, Doctor, confirming our love for each other and we want to go away for a few days to be together.”
The adults looked at each other questioningly. I’m quite certain our parents believed the relationship wouldn’t last that long, once we got to high school and met other kids. I have no idea what Dr. Cushing thought. They all seemed to be trying to read each others’ minds.
Finally, my mother said, “I, for one, can agree to that. What do the rest of you think?” They all nodded, so we agreed, said goodbye to Dr. Cushing, Christian and I giving him grateful hugs, and left.
On the way home, we stopped for lunch at a very nice restaurant to celebrate the peaceful conclusion we had come to. Peter and I knew that there would be more discussions, but we felt confident that we could hold our own.
Graduation came. Peter and I played the Schubert together, and it went rather well. After we had received our certificates and the ceremony had ended, we were once again deluged with congratulations and praise for our playing, and again we went to Friendly’s to celebrate.
Peter’s birthday was on July 17th, while mine was six days earlier. Our parents had gotten together and purchased tickets for a Sunday afternoon concert at Tanglewood, the summer home of the Boston Symphony. To our great joy, the concert we were to hear included Arthur Rubinstein playing the Chopin Second Piano Concerto with Charles Munch conducting. Peter and I were ecstatic!
On the morning of the concert, my parents drove me to Peter’s house. The plan was to take two cars, since six people could not fit comfortably in one, but that Peter and I would ride in one car on the way to the concert and in the other on the way home. Peter and I sat in the back seat of our car, quite close together, and quietly held hands.
None of us had ever been to Tanglewood. It had a large shed which seated as many people as a regular concert hall. In addition, for a small admission fee, people could sit on the lawn, have picnics, and listen to the music. On nice days, they doubled the size of the audience. We had perfect seats in the shed, just a little left of center and about a third of the way back.
The concert opened with a rousing rendition of the Brahms Academic Festival Overture. When Rubinstein came on stage, I realized he was actually quite short. His playing, however, was romantic and at times, very powerful. Peter and I sat next to each other, awestruck. At the conclusion of the concerto, the audience rose to clap and cheer, so Rubinstein came out to play an encore, the Chopin ‘Nocturne in E Flat.’ It was exquisite.
During intermission, Peter and I asked our parents if we could go there again next year and stay overnight so we could take in more concerts. Our parents agreed to consider it.
Following intermission, the orchestra played the Berlioz Symphony Fantastique, a marvelous, exciting piece which I loved for the wonderful colors Berlioz orchestrated and the symphony played so beautifully.
On the way home, Peter and I talked and talked about the concert. “I gather that you two enjoyed it,” said Peter’s mother, turning in her seat to look at us.
We hastily moved our hands apart saying it was the most wonderful birthday present they could have given us.