As my heart is reeling from news of being laid off from my regular church today, I go back to a story. These all start with a story, all rife with feeling and promise. This one’s about a church.
In August 1999 I returned from New York. My mother had been dead a year, I was recovering in turmoil from a recently broken relationship that I had thought would last forever (I was 23. Of course I thought that.), I had been put through the wringer. It was January of 2000 before I licked my wounds enough to get back in the game. I needed more money than my DayJob provided, and I wanted to earn it by singing. But where to start? Where any tenacious, operatically-trained career rebel starts – the yellow pages. (For the younger folks in the audience, this was a book of businesses listed by type, with addresses and phone numbers.) I made a spreadsheet, typing in each church’s address. I customized 88 cover letters and printed out 88 copies of my resume, for each church in the yellow pages in San Francisco. Every denomination, including the Temple of Set, got a copy and a personalized letter.
Three churches responded. One said their parish was about 50 people – not enough to warrant aย cantor. Another kept me on file, using me 3-4 times, for weddings. And one called me directly. Dick Davis, ofย St. Anne’s of the Sunset, on the other end of the phone. Dick was a no bullshit man, tall and gruff. He told me their regular cantor was done, showing up halfway through the sermon (for the uninitiated, this is after the opening hymn, the Kyrie, the Gloria, the first reading Responsorial and the Gospel Acclamation Allelujah – 5 total cantor responsibilities) and he was ready to replace her.
For the next four weeks, in private, huge, bombastic, hilarious, openly gay Dick Davis trained me to cantor. If I waited for him to play my opening tone instead of figuring out the interval myself, he’d say “No. You’re a professional. You start when I start; don’t wait.” He said he was going to “train me right”, and train me he did. I’d never sung a mass before outside of a congregation. (I left the church when I was 12, filling out every subsequent informational form with “Marisa-ist” under “other” in the “religion” category.) I learned when to stand, sit, kneel, how to do a responsorial, everything. Dick was patient, grueling, and worked into the wee hours to ensure I would be a professional cantor. After a month, he let his wayward cantor go, and I stepped in. And there I sang – for nearly 5 years; until well after I moved to the East Bay, I sang at St. Anne’s; one Saturday mass and two masses Sunday morning. It was exhausting and I loved it. We worked on amazing music, and Dick was a fantastic mentor. After I moved back to Alameda in 2003, I eventually made a sad phone call to Dick to let him know I could no longer do the commute. I sent regrets to both Dick and their amazing pastor, Father Ed Dura. Dick and I were in touch until he died several years later – this shook me more than I have cared to admit until now. Having quite a good reputation (I show up and can sight-read almost anything), I was unemployed less than a week before I started work at St. Barnabas in Alameda, just a few blocks from my house. I worked there for a year or so until they lost funding… and before I even knew funding had been lost, I got a call from David Sundahl, telling me I wasn’t going to be unemployed for any period of time – he wanted me at Saint Margaret Mary. And so I went. In 2005 (or late 2004), I began to sing at this wonderful church – the 5:00 on Saturday, the 10:30 on Sunday. This sweet parish, plucked from a hillside in Europe, gothic in appearance to the flying buttresses, filled my heart. A short commute from my house, Saint Margaret Mary immediately became home. A wonderful choir that was always being challenged to do incredible music, and wonderful, accepting people who never questioned my not going down to communion, I made a home there. The priest was one I often espoused – one who reminded us before voting day that Christians had agreed to love everyone, not just people who thought like they did. One who, when a parishoner fainted after communion, berated the congregation for claiming to be Christian and not coming to her aid. I loved the message. And so I was there; David and I sightreading amazing music, even recently garnering a $1500 donation to the organ repair fund based simply on our Laudate Dominum.
Until today.
No one asked about my proclivities at the beginning of my employment there. Singing well and kickass sight-singing was good enough.
In 2007, my life partner and I bought a house. The priest questioned me – why wasn’t I married? I said getting married was expensive. He said it wasn’t as expensive as living without the blessing of our lord.
For a few weeks, he questioned me. I demured – Luke isn’t Catholic, I said. Luke is Jewish, I said. I’m not practicing, I said. Finally, I said, “I know you won’t marry us, because I don’t want children.” “What’s wrong with you? Why don’t you want children?” he said. “What’s wrong with you? Why don’t you want children?” I said. I couldn’t believe that had come out of my mouth. True, but probably not appropriate. He smiled and hugged me. I knew this was it – a priest will not marry you in the Catholic church if you do not want children. I was either going to get fired or not have to deal with this again.
This is a scary thing that happens to me when cornered. I’m honest to a fault normally but, backed into a corner, I become honest beyond that. These are the kinds of things that come out. This was in late 2007, or early 2008. I reeled. I worried. But I didn’t get fired. And, for years, that was it. The knowledge was common (many choir members are friends on facebook); I lived with my (male) domestic partner, unmarried. Additionally, I filtered nothing about my feelings about gay marriage on the facebooks. I lived an open life, while being respectful; journaling during the non-singing parts of the mass, enjoying the community and the music.
Until Saturday.
Saturday, as I left mass, the conversation went like this:
“I haven’t seen you in a while – where have you been?”
“I got married!” (Thrilled for me and Luke, foolishly thinking that this would be positively looked upon in the church.)
“You didn’t get married here – where did you get married?”
“In Berkeley.”
“What denomination?”
“No denomination.”
“You did not get married in a church? I think that’s evil.”
…
“But you used to be Catholic, and you left the church?”
“Yes, I left when I was 12.”
“That is evil. I don’t think you should sing in our church if you aren’t practicing.”
…
“I like you. I want to talk with you. Make an appointment with me.”
“…ok.” (I was willing to agree to anything at this point to not be called evil again.)
And so I left. I had let the choir directors (David, my dear friend, and the July sub, Chris) know several days prior that I’d be out of town the next day. I called David to let him know what had happened, and said I’d regroup with him the following week when I was back in town to see if the priest had said anything.
Today David called me to let me know that the priest had said that I’d flaked on an appointment with him. Impossible: I was never going to be there yesterday anyway. He said that, unless Luke and I agreed to allow him to marry us, he didn’t want me singing there anymore.
8 years. Done in the blink of an eye, and not even by the person who had a problem with it.
I never lied. I never pretended to be anything I wasn’t; I can’t. It’s too far out of my nature. I also won’t argue it; I don’t want to be anywhere that I’m not wanted, and I’m not here to make a political statement – politics are bad on the voice and I’m well past drama in my life.
And so that leaves me brokenhearted, facing not seeing some amazing people again to join them in song and, frankly, out several thousand dollars a year. As an equal earner in my household, I rely on my musical income for bills.
The ramifications of this are far and wide – hurt, betrayal, without regular singing income and, worse, regular singing, and missing some dear friends.
I am so thankful for the amount of time I’ve had, and for the people I’ve met. I’ve been so fortunate to have had these things. I hate how they were ripped away – how swiftly and harshly. But something better must be in the works – I have to believe that. Until then, I am here, and here, and teaching a LOT, and considering, maybe, taking a regular day or two off a month for the first time in 13 years – I’ve been working 7 days a week since 2000.
Brunch on Sunday, anyone?
At times, religion is its own worst enemy. Sorry to hear of you loss for such a crazy reason.
Well, first off, let me introduce myself–my name’s Nathanial and I’m a regular parishoner at St. Augustine’s in Oakland. I heard a sum-up of your story through a friend of a friend. I’m happy for you and your husband, and aghast at what happened. I’d love to invite you to visit us at St. A’s–we have a warm and wonderful choir director, a couple of weekly ‘ringer’ professional singers, and a rotating cast of guests for the major holidays and feasts. I’ll think you’ll find Jim Gilman, our director, about as welcoming and inclusive as can be. Clearly you’re busy, juggling many things, and considering many other. If you do decide to give us a visit, or a call, please know you’ve got at least one fan in the pews. And for God’s sake congratulations on your wedding!
Well, hello, Nathaniel, and thank you so much!
Please introduce me to Mr. Gilman! I am at 415.244.7388, and marisa_lenhardt@operamail.com. I would love to come and visit. I am exploring everything right now, and the response has been… well, I’m overwhelmed with gratitude. Thank you. ๐
Well, you don’t know me, but I have mutual friends on Facebook from St. Margaret Mary’s, and my biography with that church goes back many years. I have since moved away across the country. Truth be told, it was just a matter of time before something like this happened, and I am honest when I say that I feel sorry for you. I tended to steer clear of my own mutual friends at that church once I shacked up with my then live-in girlfriend (also now my wife, and we have two kids, married in the church and everything). But honestly, stuff like this has driven me to chuck religion altogether at this point. That church was made for people who want to “protect” themselves with rules and make themselves feel better about it. But rules don’t save anybody, rules don’t give life. If your religion makes you feel better than others or makes you turn people away, then you are doing your religion wrong. Who knows, if that priest had an ounce of sense, he would have concluded that your singing at his church (you are obviously very talented) was your own form of searching for something, your own version of “my heart is restless until it rests in Thee”? Or maybe it wasn’t; maybe it was just a job, but still, how would he know? “My house will be a house of prayer for all nations, but you have made it a den of thieves.” It really doesn’t make sense. Again, I feel for you, and good luck.
Thank you so much. The responses from people like you are what give me faith.
My mother is a singer. She’s sang Flamenco all over Southern California for almost 30 years. She can’t sight read,she’s just always sang and has always managed to get paid well. At least well enough to feed, house, and clothe 3 kids. It took a disease like Sarcoma to make her stop performing in San Diego, but she still has lots of friends that come to her house to wish her well. She usually sings for them because it’s what she loves to do. I can tell that she really misses being in front of both the people and the music.
Your former employer cant take you away from your audience or your music. He doesn’t like the direction the new Jesuit Pope is heading(Way better than the Sith Lord we had before) and is just trying to shore up his constituency by being vindictive and good ol’ mean and nasty.
You’ll end up somewhere better. What you transmit is alive and unmistakable. Firing a critical instrument in a function after an eight year tenure for theological disagreements might win him hard line friends in his Diocese, but it’s going to look like Fuck next mass there I’m sure. You’re not a fry cook-you’re a singer. And even if you were a fry cook it would still not be ok.
Dear Ed,
Thank you so much. You have told me about your mom since we met 19 years ago, and though I’ve never met her, I think of her when I think of you. โค Thank you. I know something good must come of this. ๐
I am so sorry, and mourning for your loss – and theirs. What foolishness.
Greetings! I saw this story via Absinthia & AG. I don’t know if we’ve ever met, but I’ve enjoyed your voice at the Temple Burns for years. Anyhow, I’m sharing this story on my own fb, which includes a number of friends & colleagues in religious studies. (I have a PhD in religious studies & wrote an academic book about burning man, btw…) I’m assuming that because this is public, you don’t mind this story potentially gaining a wider audience. Please let me know if I’m mistaken.
Hi Lee,
Thank you so much, and thank you for your kind words about the Temple Burns… very sacred for me.
Yes, please share (and thank you for the respect in asking. ๐
-Marisa
I am so sorry this happened to you; I can’t imagine the level of betrayal you must feel.
I am sorry for the parishioners at this church, who are now denied both your lovely singing and your loyal friendship.
And I’m sorry for the person who made this unfortunate decision, for this misguided interpretation of both marriage and faith. Because this person will now have to explain to these parishioners why, after 8 years of dedication, you are no longer deemed worthy to be in their presence. And they are going to question this judgment, to question this church, and to re-evaluate their faith under this criteria.
There is nothing I can write here to soothe the hurt of this betrayal, but the actions of others might. Other people, of faith or not, will step forward to applaud your honesty and to condemn this hypocrisy. Know that being true to yourself could be the catalyst for change at this church; perhaps even its salvation.
Thank you so much, Sabrina. ๐
I can only tell my story.
People have been so amazing; it’s incredible. I’m not going to say it’s worth it, but it gives me hope to see people’s responses to this.
Frankly, the idea that a church would hire a non-adherent to help them with their worship and then fire them, after so long, over something that is perfectly expected for a non-adherent to do is appalling to me. I can certainly understand churches not hiring non-adherent professionals at all, but if a church is okay with hiring professionals who are open about their non-adherence, you can’t get all hot and bothered about them living their lives the way they told you they live their lives. And that’s a particularly lousy way to fire somebody regardless of the reason.
I’m so sorry, Marisa. I hate hearing about my friends being treated unjustly, and I hate hearing about my coreligionists acting out of hate or fear. There wasn’t much to like in this post ๐ฆ
::hugs::
Thank you, Eric. It means so much to hear you say that. ๐
(is this Eric Mor******?)
Eric, Lisa’s husband from the Stanford Savoyards. Still flabbergasted that of all the things that would push that parish over the edge, it was you getting MARRIED. To a man, no less.
Reblogged this on The Adventures of the Terminally Snarky and commented:
This is something that happened. And it’s not cool. Please, if you are in the Bay Area, consider taking voice lessons from my amazing friend.
Thank you my dear. ๐
I am sorry for your lossโand theirs. I can’t imagine that you, as a singer, will be unemployed (never “unwanted”) for long. I wish open minds for them and the best for you.
๐ Thank you so much.
I’m glad that new doors are bound to open for you now! Everything happens for a reason, nothing in G-d’s world happens by mistake. I’m excited to see what happens for you next since it can only go up from here!
Yes, yes! I LOVE THIS ATTITUDE! YES.
I’m so sorry to hear you’ve experienced this; but really I’m sorry for them. I know how amazingly talented you are and how much passions and dedication you have for your art. It is TRULY their loss!
I wish you all the best and I know better things are coming your way!!
THANK YOU, Teala. Thank you. ๐