Yesterday was my dear Kati's birthday, as I believe I mentioned. I went with her and Esther to their weekly church service at Cegla (Centro Evangelico por Gays y Lesbianas Argentinos, or something of that ilk), which meets in a more liberal Methodist church every Friday night. The Bible study was the third chapter of John--I mean Juan--and the sermon I couldn't quite make out. Something about trusting God. The worship music was familiar, however, in tune if not in lyric, and I felt quite at home, Jewishness and Shabbat aside. I know I'm not supposed to be in church, but does it count if it's a gay church, that no other church recognizes? The strangest part, these people love God just as much as the people who reject them. Kati tells me there's a lot of broken people at Cegla, people whose families won't speak to them or who hid their identities for a long time. I find that really sad, almost as sad as the fact that my being there would disappoint not only the Christians in my life, who long for me to return to the fold, but the Jews, who long for me to come apart and be separate. Can I not just do what brings me peace and joy?
Anyway, brokenness was not in evidence last night, when we went to a cheap burger joint to celebrate Kati's birthday. There was much singing and tomfoolery, a bit of origami, and some standing on chairs. Emily, she of the blond hair, and who everyone wants to set me up with because they want everybody to be gay of course, had a camera, so I finally have some pictures. Enjoy!
We had to sit in the empty back room because these are some really loud homosexuals.
We got Kati a cake!
The happy couple
Don't remember their names, but the one one the right is from Ukraine...
This swarthy young man would be Manu, doing unspeakable things to his cake.