God's Dress is Gay E-Book

Nulf A. Schade-James

• Herausgeber: BookRix
• Kategorie: Sachliteratur, Reportagen, Biografien
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2021

Beschreibung

About the Author

Nulf A. Schade-James was born in 1958 in Gedern, Hessen. He studied in Frankfurt and Heidelberg before starting his pastoral internship in Wiesbaden and Kairo. A member of the group Homosexuality and Church, he has been campaigning for the rights of homosexual brothers and sisters of faith since the 1980s. For years he was admired on the cabaret stage as Greta Gallus, Dame of Sodom without Gomorrah. He plans further appearances during a reading tour for this book.

The press repeatedly picked up on Schade-James’ commitment, according to Spiegel and FAZ. In 2002 the gay magazine hinnerk listed him at #41 in the TOP 100 GAYS THAT ARE MOVING GERMANY. A detailed interview with him was published in 2014 in the book Stadtgesprache Frankfurt a.M. by Gmeiner Verlag.
Today Pastor Schade-James lives and works in Gallus, Frankfurt, together with his husband and his foster son. In 2015 he married his husband for the third time in New York, and in 2018, finally, in Germany.“

Leseprobe

God’s Dress is Gay

How a queer Pastor changed the Church

Autobiography

The moving testimony of an impressive life

I had just begun my studies when the director of studies told us: "If anyone here is homosexual, he might as well stop studying theology right now!" I didn't listen to him; after all, even though since puberty, I had only had sexual contact with men, I wasn't homosexual.

From the time I was 13 years old, I had only one goal: I wanted to be a pastor! When, at the age of 20, I left our small town in Hessen, a completely new and exciting world awaited me. No matter where my path led me, God was at my side: from my studies in Heidelberg, to my time as a pastoral intern in Wiesbaden and Cairo, or to the parsonage in Frankfurt. Time and again I felt a divine closeness because at some point, my soul had recognized that God made me wonderful.

Me, a gay Christian; a pastor in body and soul.

With his autobiography, Nulf Schade-James gives a moving testimony of his life path, which has been shaped by the struggle for acceptance as a Queer within the protestant church and society. He was one of the first pastors to give benedictions to homosexual couples and made a significant contribution to their enforcement nationwide. His courageous struggle for equal rights for homosexuals has changed much in the church, which he hopes will be a source of strength for others.

About the Author

Nulf A. Schade-James was born in 1958 in Gedern, Hessen. He studied in Frankfurt and Heidelberg before starting his pastoral internship in Wiesbaden and Kairo. A member of the group Homosexuality and Church, he has been campaigning for the rights of homosexual brothers and sisters of faith since the 1980s. For years he was admired on the cabaret stage as Greta Gallus, Dame of Sodom without Gomorrah. He plans further appearances during a reading tour for this book.

The press repeatedly picked up on Schade-James’ commitment, according to Spiegel and FAZ. In 2002 the gay magazine hinnerk listed him at #41 in the TOP 100 GAYS THAT ARE MOVING GERMANY. A detailed interview with him was published in 2014 in the book Stadtgesprache Frankfurt a.M. by Gmeiner Verlag.

Today Pastor Schade-James lives and works in Gallus, Frankfurt, together with his husband and his foster son. In 2015 he married his husband for the third time in New York, and in 2018, finally, in Germany.

Contents

About the Author

God gave us breath, so we can live

Childhood

First contact with the church

Early Youth

School Days

Children’s Choir leadership

The Final School Years

University

Kirchentage (Church Days)

Political Engagement

Israel

Cairo

Return to Germany

David

Church Politics

Church Blessing

Partnership

Epilogue

Attachment

Memorial hour

Address to the Synod in the Autumn of 2001

God gave us breath, so we can live

In the spring of 1958, just two years after my brother’s birth, I saw the light of day and God gave me breath. I start with this song “God gave us breath,” from the evangelical hymn book, because I am convinced that God gave me breath and set me on my life’s path. I believe that, like the many other men and women who live with and love people of the same sex, I am part of that wonderful creation of God that is colorful, and sometimes even dazzling. God gave me breath, so I can live.

Childhood

That same summer four months later, I was baptized - as it turned out, without a baptismal verse. Back then a baptismal verse wasn't that important. What was important was that there was a godfather, and I had the best godfather in the world. Later on, my friend Gloria gave me my "baptismal verse.” She said to me: "Speak and do not be silent, for God is with you and no one should dare to harm you." (Acts 18)

Not a bad choice - and looking back on my life, it was actually right on because, in everything I did, I felt that I was being led. The sense that I am God's child made me strong and sometimes really courageous. It gave me a sense of security, especially in those moments when I felt that I had been abandoned by the entire world.

After the birth of my brother, my parents bought our milk direct from the farmer. When my mother was expecting a second time – me - that farmer said to her, “This child,” pointing at her belly, “needs a godfather here in Gedern. I’ll be the godfather if it’s a boy.” How right he would be. I really needed a godfather to hold me, not just over the baptismal font, but especially when everyone found out I was gay. I know that my parents' choice of this godfather was one of the best decisions they ever made, not only for me but for our whole family. Pädder Werner and his wife Gerda stood by and treated us absolutely equally. Whether birthdays or Easter, for St. Nicholas Day or for our confirmations, Pädder Werner and Gothe Gerda nurtured us and lovingly accompanied our lives.

I was born into a small middle-class family. My father was busy building his professional career as a dentist, which meant he wasn't really at home much. He joined all sorts of clubs and got into local politics, becoming a city councilor for the SPD, a referee for the football club and forming a fife and drum corps for the volunteer fire department. Whoever wanted to get to know him could go hiking with my parents through the Vogelsberg Mountains once a month: membership in the Vogelsberger Mountain Club was a family tradition. Yes, my father was a hiker, just like my grandfather Ewald.

My poor mother, who had lived and worked in a big city as a postal clerk, had no choice but to quit her profession and devote herself to raising her two children, more or less alone. While she dealt with us kids, father was out on some soccer field almost every Sunday, or taking part in various important meetings during the week. Last but not least, he was also very successful as a “female” comic satirist at Carnival time - the time leading up to Lent. The “Büttenredner” is a mostly-comic political and social satirist. Back then, there were no female carnival Büttenredners - that wasn't respectable. So the role was played by a man. There were no female pastors either: the world at that time, the world of fools and the church, was exclusively in the hands of men.

To be honest, I didn't really miss my father: our mother's love and care made up for his absence. She was there for us and almost always available. This was a great blessing for my brother and me, especially in the first years of my life. I later wished she would leave us alone more often, but in our early years, it was wonderful. She played and sang with us, told us fascinating stories and exciting fairytales. Because of her, I memorized almost every children's song. And I loved the moments when, just before sleep, she came to our room, sat down on our bed, read us a bedtime story and sang. I particularly liked the song "Little brother, come dance with me" from Hansel and Gretel. We not only sang it – we acted it out as well. She would take my hands and dance with me back and forth through the little kitchen. And she went for walks with us almost every day, at first with the baby carriage and later holding our hands. The playground near the old castle in Gedern was a paradise garden for us - here we were allowed to play freely and at ease. Here we made new friends. Mother always sat on the bench while we slid down the big slide, or we animated each other to see who could swing the highest.

Even though my mother later complained from time to time about how difficult it was for her at first in Gedern, my father's “clubbiness” turned out to be a good thing. Because of his activities, it took just a few years for us to be known and to become a part of the local community, which was wonderful for us kids. Whenever possible, we took part in club activities. One of my favorite memories is of “roasting potatoes.” We would go out to some meadow with blankets and picnic baskets; the men would have prepared a fire early in the morning. Later on, we would put the delicious potatoes in the hot embers. While we waited for them to cook, we played together with the grownups; games like “Blink” and circle games, like "the fox is walking around", dodgeball or soccer. I didn't like soccer, and for that preferred to be a spectator. I really just wanted to see the men, who often took off their shirts and then spent the rest of the day in the summer heat bare-chested. Even back then, that sight gave me a pleasant feeling.

For the first few years, my brother and I were brought up together. We had a neighbor, Aunt Lemy, who loved us very much and whose hair salon, along with the Protestant Church and a bakery, was close by. I’ve always had a connection to older women. This has been so my entire life: there have always been women who have been a support to me. Mother, surrogate mothers, the ironing woman, the preschool or the kindergarten teacher, the children's worship leader, the piano teacher and the neighbor.

We were allowed to call Aunt Lemy “Aunt” even though we weren't related at all. She was always very well coifed and her lips glowed red. My mother hardly used any make-up, but Aunt Lemy, who was a hairdresser, was always very smartly made up. For me she was somehow special because she had such a different life from that of my mother. She was not just a housewife and mother: above all, she was a businesswoman. When I think back on her today, she was like a Woman of the World to me. I watched TV for the first time in her house, "Little Peter’s moon trip", and there you could eat pasta with cherries and bread crumbs, which was completely frowned upon at my home - you could even eat salty pasta or, even better, pasta with ketchup.

Our small family had a very special relationship with Aunt Lemy and her husband, who of course we called Uncle Lemy. They weren't just our neighbors, but also the lucky owners of our little house. And because the adjoining garden was not really a garden, but rather a very small dusty back yard, we were allowed to use the large garden behind their house. There was a “Gängelchen” (sweet little path) between the houses that had an iron gate opening onto to the street and at the other end, opened to the garden. My brother and I often played on this path where people would greet us as they walked by.

Our children’s bedroom was also a shower, or rather, a bathroom. The little room was long and narrow. A coal stove was at the entrance, a wardrobe was opposite the stove and next came the bunk beds. I was afraid of falling and had so I the lower bunk. My brother Hartmut was the braver of us. There was also a small window looking out on the bakery and Aunt Lemy’s garden. The entry to the shower was opposite the beds. It wasn't really a children's bedroom, let alone a playroom, but it didn’t matter: we played outside most of the time anyway.

Our house was right on the main street and stood between the bakery and hairdressing salon. Opposite our house was the old school along with the school yard, neither of which were in use. There was a bakery, farm yards, a carpentry shop and a large old brick house which sheltered many people under its roof. Between the old carpentry shop and the brick house was the storage facility of a building yard. There were mountains of sand and gravel into which we would jump from the roof of an old shed. Wooden crates and shacks, one of which was an old furniture store with an old man who lived in the attic above - all of that was our playground. It was here, where we met up with our friends - we were a real little gang. Whenever we got together to play, we were always happy and completely exhausted by evening.

Most of all I liked to play hide and seek, and the large area opposite our small house was the best place for this game. I can still remember the excitement of sitting somewhere behind a pile of wood, crouched down so no one could see me, and then, when the coast was clear, to reach home-base unnoticed – going from wall to wall, from door to door, always careful not to be seen. Whoever was found last had to be the seeker next.

Those childhood years were truly carefree and happy - exciting for all of us. Of course I had a best friend: Paul, the second youngest in the family with nine siblings. He was just a month older than me. Together with Robert, the boy from the neighboring farm, we formed our very own bond of friendship. Of course, these two boys were invited to my birthday parties. Birthdays were always prepared and celebrated with a lot of love in my family. My father even took time off for birthdays, and closed his practice early so he could show my guests and me animated films. He owned a “film projection apparatus” very early on - that's what we called the projector. It was a very special thing for me to share; something that none of my friends had in their homes. Even before the first television moved into our house, my father showed us these funny cartoons on our birthdays – great little stories of an evil witch who turned children to stone and ended up falling into the cauldron, or Donald Duck, struggling with a deck chair. The last film was the highlight: Charlie Chaplin in the department store. For the first few years I didn't really understand this film, but I always laughed at the funny-looking guy who moved so strangely and was terribly afraid of the department store boss with the long beard. In the evening, the birthday table was richly set. Birthdays were really very special days in my young life.

As far as I know, Paul was the first boy I fell in love with, without knowing exactly what "fell in love" meant. His life was very different from mine; his home was completely different from my more-or-less middle-class home. He lived in a large brick house with his nine siblings, his father and mother. I lived in a small house with four rooms and a toilet right next to the kitchen, built in the winter garden. At Paul’s home there were two rooms and the large kitchen with a cellar that could only be entered through a trap door. I was always afraid to step through this wooden door and I would never have gone down the steep stairs to the basement. I felt very comfortable in his kitchen. It often smelled of burnt wood, because the kitchen stove was still wood-fired. I liked being with Paul, so much so that, one day I announced to my mother that I would rather live with Paul and his family. She actually packed my suitcase. At the front door, however, I turned back and went into her arms. Anyway, at Paul's house, both the front and back doors were always open.

Both of Paul's parents had to work and, unlike my mother, often neither were at home. At Paul’s, we could roast bread in the pan with margarine any time we wanted. At home we only had "good" butter. My parents would never have bought margarine: my father always said derogatorily, "Margarine - that's monkey fat!” When the bread was the right dark color, we would put it on a plate and sprinkled sugar on it. Eating “sugar bread,” was Heaven; in our home even Nutella was forbidden.

Every Saturday at the same time, Paul had to go home for a bath. We could be deeply immersed in some game, but no matter how much fun we were having, when the call rang out across the schoolyard, he deserted us and I was left alone - usually everyone went home then. My friend from this big and permissive family always obediently went home at bath time, otherwise he would have gotten it with the wooden spoon. The bath oven was only heated on Saturday; by then we already had a water heater… of course, we also had a wooden spoon.

It was with my friend Paul that, when I was nine, I was intimate for the first time. To be honest, Paul was the one who explained things to me – explained very differently than my parents had.

Paul was straightforward and blunt. He also knew those „other words“ that we definitely weren’t supposed to say. I think that, because of the closeness within his family and the many older siblings who already had families themselves, Paul had learned early on about the sexual things that adults do.

At some point Paul's parents built a house and moved away from the center of the small town. We met for the first time at his new house in a strange and curious way. We were alone together. I don't remember exactly how it happened, only that, hidden next to the bed in his parents’ bedroom, we cautiously touched each other. We were both excited, and we both had the same desire to touch, but the fear of doing something forbidden and the fear of being discovered made us quickly pull up our pants. Then it was already over. We were together in this situation only once. We never talked about it again; it remained our secret. We pretended it never happened.

Our meetings became increasingly rare due to the move and the change of schools that went with it. After going to elementary school together, he went to the vocational school and I to the academic high school, so we only saw each other sporadically. Paul did an apprenticeship as a retail salesman and was very popular everywhere. My father was happy and pleased that he had become such an exemplary young man. He often made that comment to us at the dinner table.

At some point Paul left our little town. It was said that he had to go to Frankfurt for further training. When we were adults, we met by chance on the street at a church consecration festival. He was standing in front of me in a fur coat, a little embarrassed and yet overjoyed: "Yes, I'm fine, I got married, I have a child and, as you can see, have otherwise been very fortunate."