I do remember when I first set foot at the cathedral. It was in the 2001 spring a couple of weeks before Easter. Maybe it would be good to tell you about my mental health at that time. I’m a gay guy. Born in a Roman Catholic family in the Abitibi-Temiscaming region. Being gay in that region and in my family is simply evil. They have rejected me and it was forbidden for me to be alone with my nephews. For them being gay means also being pedophile. No words could be harsh enough to describe their disgust about me. Let’s say that whore was the less offensive word used by my own mother when she first suspected my sexual orientation at 14 years old after I spilled the beans about being abused by one of my brothers for 7 years. When I did my coming out, I was sent at 24 year old to Medjugorie in the former Yugoslavia, a very popular pilgrim place at that time, to beg the Virgin Mary to be healed that I might be acceptable and worthy to her son, our Lord Jesus Christ (meaning be worthy to her and my family). I can also speak about all the mistreatment I passed through at school by the teachers, how I as a dyslexic I had been declared by those people to be too stupid to be able to do something good in my life. Let's say that I’d had been taught to never believe in myself and not to have self-respect.
Now, back to the first time ever I came to this cathedral. I was crying my eyes out in the front pew in the right hand of the center. Suddenly, I saw this little bearded priest coming toward me. I was scared of being thrown out from the church so I fled by myself. A couple of weeks after, I came back in the very same pew and again the same little bearded man came in but this time he asked me to be still and have a chat. I have to admit that I was very surprised. I thought that Father Pitts must have lost his marbles! So he took the time to ask me what had happened to me and why I was crying like that. With the little of English I had at that time I tried to explain myself. We switched to French. What a surprise for me to speak in my mother tongue with an anglo… hou hou!!!! So after I’d explained to him my situation - a long abusive relationship, and another one which had just finished dramatically and all of my past, I was confirmed in my belief about him… he had really lost his marbles! Instead of sending me away from him and his church, as I was used in the Roman Catholic faith, he was respectful and spoke to me as a human being. He also invited me to meet him at his office if I needed to. He assured me that I wasn’t a waste of space or a disgusting, dirty, scummy being who should make himself disappear from the surface of the earth as I thought I was. I was so surprised that it was possible to be accepted in a church. I had been also very puzzled to be informed that a well known and accepted gay man worked there as the choir director and that his partner is also member of the community and the choir. Now I did not just believe that Father Pitt had lost his marbles but all the congregation must have lost their marbles too! It was like the entire world was going upside down. It was unbelievable for a man like me, but how refreshing! So after two or three meetings with the Dean I’d asked if a guy like me could be member of this parish. Then he told me about the reception which would occur a week later at Easter. So I took my decision right away and became an Anglican that very week. It was also the occasion to meet the scariest women I’d never met at that time. Mother Sanchez came in with the papers to sign. My God this huge, motherly women, at that time, made me very uncomfortable, and I felt trapped like a mouse in the Father Pitts' office with her blocking the way out. Gush! It was also the first time I realized that women could be priests in this faith and as an ex roman-catholic guy I really had no idea how to deal with that. Any way, I was received that Easter as member of this church. People have been very friendly to me, trying to speak in French to me and making me comfortable with them. But, because I was still afraid to be rejected by the church’s members, I’ve been in and out of the church for mostly 6 years since my reception. But each time people let me know that they were happy to see me back.
Now, I’d member of the choir for a bit. I’m often at church. I have had the chance to make contact with Joyce and I have discovered this wonderful woman with her beliefs and her doubts. She has shared her difficult times, her happiest moments and those less happy. Joyce, like Father Pitts, has never tried to make me believe that she is perfect. This was also a big surprise for me. I was used to dealing with "perfect" Roman Catholic priests with whom it was impossible to be myself. Even Bishop Clarke is this simple man full of love for human beings… sometimes it still very strange to me.
So that’s my story. Christ Church Cathedral is now my church, where I can be myself, and grow in my belief.
MarKo Hubert
