Imagine this: a man walks into a crack house and proceeds to violently execute everyone in it. A tragedy? Of course. A reason to excuse crack smoking and pretend that crack smoking is a good thing? Of course not. A senseless tragedy such as a slaughter of crackheads does not make being a crackhead good. It is still an evil, and almost anyone commenting on such a tragedy would not hesitate to point that out.
Why is it then, that those of us who have chosen to point out the evil of homosexuality in reference to the Orlando slaying are considered to be so tasteless and wrong? The deceased were all at the Pulse nightclub to, at the very least, celebrate a wicked and destructive lifestyle, and in many cases, to bring home one or more people with whom to commit horrid, horrid, sexual acts.
The following is more explicit than I would normally post, so please look away if you are easily disturbed. From ex-“gay” Joseph Sciambra:
In the pre-HIV era, the various gastrointestinal and rectal maladies in male homosexuals seen by physicians and proctologists were collectively referred to as “gay bowel syndrome.” I experienced this first hand, as the constant ritual of anal cleansing, douching, enemas, and penetration, caused the already naturally dry and thin-skinned rectum to become perpetually red, irritated, and swollen. Diarrhea was a relentless affliction; some rather active gay men who otherwise were beautifully muscular and apparently healthy-looking took to wearing diapers – especially during intense work-outs or weight-lifting scissions [sic] at the gym, as the increased pressure often caused abnormal leakage. Visits to a San Francisco proctologist were frequent, and his waiting room, crowded with other gay men, sometimes turned into a place to meet and talk as there was always someone I knew – also there waiting to see the doctor. Though, not everyone with this secret problem was single and adventurous; one such friend – a sincere guy who had been in a monogamous relationship for a couple of years, was continuously left with painful anal fissures. After I left the lifestyle, and went back home, my smaller town doctor still knew of my past – as soon as he saw the ravages of what had been my backside. By then, my hemorrhoids were protruding severely – and thus began a few years of one painful surgery after another. During that time, I was constantly walking about with suppositories, frequently with embarrassing stains soaking through my pants, my underwear had to be continually bleached to remove blood stains, and I stunk from fecal matter seeping out.
There is nothing praiseworthy in this. Of course it is a tragedy that these homosexuals are dead. I have no idea the state of their souls, but given Church teaching it seems that it is extremely unlikely they are now in a good place. Like the crack heads, we must feel sorrow without affirming the sin. Instead, we should double down on communicating its evil to the world.
Mors Sanctorum 