by Hieu Tran Phan
O.C. Register
October 4, 1998

His castigation explodes like a commandment from above: "A man can't be a fag and a Christian at the same time!"

Joel Traywick's character, Buddy, unleashes this indictment in "The Last Session," a critically acclaimed musical finishing its West Coast premiere at the Laguna Playhouse.

Buddy's words ring clear — as absolute as his Bible-thumping interpretation of Baptist theology. They are hurled at Gideon, an AIDS-infected songwriter.

Gideon was once also a Baptist. He, too, possesses a decisive outlook on faith: Jesus is a has-been, a "fake cure."

One God. One option. Either Christ or homosexuality.

As the musical flows forth, though, new shades of judgment take over. Each dialogue brings a new level of mutual understanding. Each song pulls Buddy and Gideon closer to an ambiguous middle. In the end, it's still one God. But there's no longer a black-or-white ultimatum.

The spiritual metamorphosis transpired in one night for Buddy and Gideon. Beyond the stage, this transformation took years for Traywick and composer Steve Schalchlin, the real-life model for Gideon.

Their lives bear a strong resemblance to those of their characters. Both grew up in devout Baptist families. Not long ago, their views on gays and God occupied polar opposites. And these days, through "The Last Session," they are striving to forge common ground between gay radicals and Christian extremists.

"We're not asking audiences who see the musical to change their minds on homosexuality. We're asking them to discard all-out hostility and condemnation," Schalchlin said Thursday.

"There is a respectful middle, a balance between militant gays and homophobic violence. It's called love for a human being."

BUILDING BRIDGES

Schalchlin didn't always love himself. The son of a Baptist preacher and a nurse, he grew up immersed in church activities. His religion's stance on gays caused him to feel guilt, shame and self-hatred as he became aware of his sexual orientation. The composer tried dating women, counseling and a heavy dose of denial before coming out 20 years ago.

Even self-acceptance failed to stem Schalchlin's erosion of faith. He questioned the authenticity of a benevolent God. The 45-year-old wondered why Jesus placed on one of his children the curse of HIV, for which he tested positive in 1993. And he basically discarded institutional religion when he nearly died of AIDS before new drugs afforded him a renewed life.

Since last fall, Schalchlin has been an avid member of Bridges Across the Divide, an organization devoted to nurturing respect between gay activists and Christian fundamentalists. Members surf onto the group's Web site (www.bridges-across.org/) to weigh in on a hotbed of gay-related issues.

"It was war in the chat room for the first few months. We were like cats clawing at each other in a cage," Schalchlin said. "Both sides did it. I found myself venting a lot of hate toward people I didn't even know."

Therein lies Schalchlin's cure for intolerance: scratching past the skin surface to unearth each person's humanity. "The Last Session," which he created with longtime partner Jim Brochu, reflects his conviction.

In it, Gideon plans to surrender to AIDS by committing suicide. He wishes to leave a musical tribute to his lover. Four friends are asked to help, but Buddy intercepts one of the invitations and keeps it for himself. Initially, Buddy gushes with excitement at meeting Gideon, his musical idol. Then he turns hostile and self-righteous after hearing of Gideon's sexual orientation.

However, once Buddy discovers the Gideon behind the "fag" label, he finds it increasingly hard to predict eternal damnation for the songwriter.

Schalchlin has hoped that his musical would challenge theater-goers mentally and emotionally. Little did he know that the production would profoundly change one of his own cast members.

FINDING HUMILITY

Traywick landed the role of Buddy in June after having played Charlie Brown in a string of productions. He had grown up in Tunnel Hill, Ga., a rural town of 897 people where Southern Baptists rule supreme. The 26-year-old moved to Los Angeles two years ago to pursue acting opportunities.

"Until then, I shared the standard Southern Baptist belief that gays were demons who needed to repent and find the Lord," Traywick said. "With all good intentions, I wanted to save them as much as Buddy wanted to save Gideon."

Never mind that he had never met a homosexual.

By pure chance, a producer rented Traywick his condominium in West Hollywood, an area with a large gay population. Since then, the actor has developed a sense of community there. Some of his friends, including his roommate, are gay.

"I'm still firmly Baptist ... I'm still straight. But I've also realized that this issue isn't just about religion. It involves fears, stereotypes, prejudices, personal pride," he said.

"And I've also learned humility. Only Christ should judge because, ultimately, only Christ knows someone's soul."

Joining "The Last Session" cast has heightened Traywick's sensitivity toward gays. It has also fed his confusion regarding their spiritual and ethical standing before God.

Traywick has bonded with the cast, particularly with Schalchlin. The two often hugged or held hands during Thursday's interview at the playhouse.

Likewise, he expressed deep admiration for Bob Stillman, who originated the role of Gideon in New York City. Traywick finds a mastery of emotions in Stillman's acting, which he credits for helping to make Buddy's change of heart realistic.

"This show has changed me forever. I'll never be the same person again," he said. "Like Buddy, I have no answers. ... Except that in the Bible, Jesus reached out to the poor and the outcast. His message was to love above all else, and this show is a ministry of love."

A GROWING COMPLEXITY

But can Buddy befriend Gideon and remain true to his religion? Is he practicing the Christian motto of "Hate the sin, love the sinner?"

Many Christians say no. They insist that such caring goes too far because it amounts to tacit approval of homosexuality and, more important, an unwillingness to draw a bottom line for ethical behavior. These Christians criticize what they deem as society's increasing subjectivism — a "do as you please" and "Who am I to judge you?" attitude of the 1990s.

The problem is, where should Christians draw their bottom line?

"Don't let a church authority dictate to you what's right or wrong. You have to decide for yourself," Stillman said. "It's healthy to question your religion. That's part of faith."

Stillman emphasized that both Gideon and Buddy give up some ground to understand each other. He highlighted the closing scene in which Buddy asks Gideon to let him say a prayer.

"We trip the audience for a second because they think Buddy hasn't learned anything," Stillman said. "They assume that he will try to save Gideon again."

Gideon knows better. With the passing hours, he has come to see Buddy's innocence and sincerity. He senses the growing complexity of his newfound friend's religious outlook. He closes his eyes in peaceful trust.

Buddy stands over Gideon — eyes also shut, head tilted toward his creator — in silence. The audience never hears his prayer, but here's what Traywick thinks of on most nights.

"Standing there, Buddy can feel only love for this man he despised just a few hours earlier. In the beginning, religion divided them. In the end, it brought them together in mutual healing.

"Tears always streak down my face during this moment," he said, "because it's true what people say: I am Buddy."