My earliest memory of seeing homosexuals dates to the early 1970s. We were driving from our home in Utah to San Francisco. We stopped and spent the night in Reno, Nevada. The next morning we ate breakfast at an International House of Pancakes. As we sat in our both, two men came in holding hands and sat in the both next to the one in which my family sat. One of the men carried a purse. The man with the purse had longer hair than his companion and was dressed more neatly. I could not have been older than 6 or 7.
Without the least bit of guile and certainly not in a mocking way, I said out loud, "Look, Dad, that man has a purse." I don't mind admitting that it seemed to strange to me, not wrong necessarily, just something that was clearly outside the very narrow range of my young (in)experience. Of course, my parents both shushed me while they apologetically glanced at the same-sex couple. Typical of that time, my parents were simply intent on me shutting up to avoid embarrassment. But nobody explained anything to me. As a result, an important teaching moment was missed. Some things were just not discussed. Of course, this story was shared numerous times over the years for comic effect.
My next direct experience with someone was who was homosexual did not occur until my junior year of high school. My best friend and I walked in to a guys' restroom on campus, When we entered we encountered two guys hassling a third guy. They were taunting and threatening him. My friend and I intervened, chasing the two would-be badasses away. Predictably, the guy they bullied was gay. That day began my friendship with David. He and I became good friends after that. He was always very straightforward about being gay. Prior that episode in the restroom, David and I were in drama together, performing in plays, taking classes, etc. While friendly, we were not friends prior to that day's incident.
When I was in the Marines, David wrote me letters. He wrote things on the outside of the envelope that he knew would cause me to be razzed or even mildly punished. These were mostly song lyrics. I remember on one he used these lyrics from Culture Club song: "War is stupid and people are stupid." He also used Springsteen's "War! What is it good for? Absolutely nothing." I didn't mind. I was happy to have a friend who actually took the time to write to me. The ridicule and mild punishments were no big deal. For the most part, I endured them while smiling.
Eventually, David and I went our own ways. But crossed paths again when we were in college at the University of Utah. He worked at the Kinko's Copies nearest to campus while taking classes. In those days- late 80s/early 90s- Kinko's was a busy place near any college campus. By that time, I was married and had a child. But I would stop in to see him a lot because Kinko's was located on the same corner as my bus stop and across the street from the Newman Center, where I went to church. I stopped in to pray for a few minutes several times a week or attend mid-day Mass. We went for coffee once or twice. It was always nice to see him. Several years ago, we reconnected on Facebook. He was living in San Francisco with his partner. He left social media because he found it infuriating.
Since my friendship with David, I have made friends with gay men and women. Recently, one of those friends married the love of his life. There is a lot to his story but it is his story, not mine. Yesterday, this friend, who is Christian and Roman Catholic, shared a blog post by Sarah Bessey:
"Penny in the Air: My Story of Becoming Affirming." Reading this made me think about my own turn on this issue, a turn that it took me a decade or more to make.
Like many Christians, while I harbored no personal animus toward gay people and went out of my way to say that, I continued to adhere to what is taken to be traditional Christian doctrine on this matter, seeing genital expressions of gay love as sinful without exception, forbidden by God and expressed in revelation. Both of these assertions, I now know, are highly questionable (as an example see
"Adriano Oliva's Amours: L'Église, les divorcés remariés, les couples homosexuels — On the Pastoral Implications of Aquinas' Recognition That Homosexuality Is Natural"). Like many Catholics, I bought into the incoherent and unsustainable stance of separating person from act. Unlike many Catholics, I worked very hard for quite a few years to maintain this point-of-view because, as a "faithful" Catholic, later as a cleric, a deacon, someone who teaches and preaches, I wanted to be in perfect harmony with Church teaching. This desire remained even after I became pretty affirming in my pastoral practice.
I readily admit to publicly expressing my disappointment of and disagreement with the Supreme Court's Obergefell v. Hodges decision, which was handed down four years ago this month. I have to say, the reality of that decision resulted in a regression for me, a turning back. In retrospect I can see that I was fearful about the alleged chaos that would result from gay people marrying. After a year or so, noticing the world had not ended and that civiilzation had not collapsed as the result of Obergefell, as many predicted it would, my regression ended.
Looking back, I sometimes enjoyed playing the smart-ass by pointing out that technically-speaking "homophobia" means something like "fear of the same." I was just in denial about being homophobic, if only mildly by comparison. Homophobia is not a mental disease, as I used to assert those who employed the term implied. Like all phobias, however, homophobia is an irrational fear. Homophobia is an irrational fear of both homosexuality and homosexual people. This meant that up to this point I had learned
nothing from my experience. I had utterly failed to pay attention to my own life, preferring instead a disembodied and atemporal approach to reality, a ready-made metaphysics I could impose on people, which cut against my otherwise fairly existentialist philosophy of life.
Separating person from act with regard to homosexual people means affirming that while their homosexuality in and of itself is not sinful, engaging in homosexual acts is. This cognitively dissonant view leads to many insulting (i.e., homophobic) comparisons, like being homosexual is akin to being predisposed to alcoholism. Just as the person pre-disposed to alcoholism should avoid imbibing alcohol, a person pre-disposed to homosexual behavior should refrain from gay sex. The flaw in this logic is readily apparent: human sexuality is not a disease. At least from a Christian perspective, sexuality is a gift. Even according to
Humanae Vitae, the gift of sexuality isn't only given to us to procreate but for enjoyment (sec. 12). Following this line of thought, because one's sexual desire is predominantly or even exclusively for members of his/her own gender, that person is condemned to a life of celibacy and sexual continence. On the view I formerly held, this is the cross they must bear. It is not uncommon to encounter the argument that, according to this stance, homosexual people are in the same boat as single heterosexual Christians, who are also morally forbidden sexual relations. The problem with this, of course, is that, at least theoretically, a single Christian can meet and marry someone. A homosexual person cannot, according to this view. I have come to see that forbidding someone to be who s/he is is, in a word, cruel.
Extending my metaphor, which starts with making a turn that leads to setting off in a new direction (
metanoia), I do not intend to provide a detail of every step of my journey. So, as I have done thus far, I will simply write about a few milestones. The first major milestone was reading Rowan Williams's now quite old lecture,
"The Body's Grace." Williams began this lecture by looking at homosexuality from the broader perspective of human sexuality. What Williams showed me initially was that no Catholic who has been appointed to preach and/or teach has any business railing against gay people from the ambo (i.e., pulpit) unless he is willing to be equally hard, or perhaps even harder, on everyone whose sexual lives do not conform to Church teaching, not only including but especially married couples who use contraception. Given that this is going to constitute, in any given parish, close to 100% of married people in the parish, it's not a very effective pastoral strategy. In fact, it is a self-defeating one. Why would it be more effective for other groups of people, gay or straight? They can ignore you just as well, perhaps even better.
I make the above observation as a father of 6 who endeavors, along with my beautiful wife, of course, to live according to the Church's teachings on sexuality. Personally, I wouldn't do it any differently, even though I know how damn difficult and vexing it can be. As Simcha Fisher noted a few years back, far from solving marital problems, starting to practice NFP will bring the issues you have into stark relief. For my wife and I, there was no start except our wedding day. I am a big believer in witness, honest witness, which means not blowing smoke up the proverbial orifice by overselling its benefits to the detriment of its difficulties. To jump ahead quite a ways, along with Sarah Bessey, I "hold to a deeply Christian sexual ethic, an understanding of fidelity, faithfulness, purity, constancy, love, honour, concern, etc. far beyond mere consent. In my understanding and experience, it’s a path of flourishing. It’s just that I believe
we’re all welcome to that ethic, it’s not just straight folks like myself."
Another milestone was reading Fr. Timothy Radcliffe's still excellent book
What Is the Point of Being a Christian?. While this does not deal specifically with homosexuality, Radcliffe insists
The Church has nothing to say about morality until our listeners have glimpsed God’s delight in their existence. People often come to us carrying heavy burdens, with lives not in accord with the Church’s teaching, the fruit of complex histories. We have nothing to say at all until people know that God rejoices in their very existence, which is why they exist at all
Far too many homosexual people have grown-up Christian and never experienced what Radcliffe describes. What they have experienced is quite the opposite, in the name of Jesus and for the sake of their soul, no less.
When we reduce the Gospel to sexual ethics and to morality in general we can be sure we've lost the thread. This is not to say morality or sexual morality don't matter. They do. But morality, including sexual morality, are not first order theological or pastoral concerns. If you're still jonesing for a morality fix, here's one courtesy of Bessey:
So remember to sit down at the feet of those who have suffered, those for whom this isn’t theory or theology, those for whom this isn’t an exercise in thought or opinion but their real lived life, the ones who, as Broderick Greer says, "engage in theology as a matter of survival" and I say, "I’m here to learn from you. Lead me. I will listen to you. I will respect your story. I will submit myself to the margins
Continuing to mine this moral vein I return to "The Body's Grace," in which Williams, in the second paragraph, points out what any discussion of sexuality needs to begin with:
Most people know that sexual intimacy is in some ways frightening for them; most know that it is quite simply the place where they begin to be taught whatever maturity they have. Most of us know that the whole business is irredeemably comic, surrounded by so many odd chances and so many opportunities for making a fool of yourself; plenty know that it is the place where they are liable to be most profoundly damaged or helpless. Culture in general and religion in particular have devoted enormous energy to the doomed task of getting it right
What we should see in this citation is the phrase "doomed task of getting it right." I take this to mean that you should only speak about sexuality with great humility, fully aware of your own fears, frailty, insecurities, and failings in this aspect of your own life. In speaking about sexuality you need to be careful not to project your experience onto others, especially in the service of some disembodied and atemporal "truth" of which you are not yourself completely sure. How can be you be sure if it's not part of your experience?
Another milestone on my path, one I first passed quite a few years ago, is the work of James Alison. Because I am conscious of the lengthiness of this post, I cannot do Alison's work any justice. It will have to suffice for me to point you to his book
Faith Beyond Resentment: Fragments Catholic and Gay, along with Rowan Williams's review of this book (see
here). I would also encourage you check our Fr. Alison's website:
James Alison. Theology. Alison possesses the best insight on the internal dynamics of the Church's seemingly endless sexual abuse crisis. Alison's work also demonstrates how third order concerns about sexuality have displaced first order things in a manner similar to the way credal formulae displaced the reign of God, the latter constituting nothing less than the center of Jesus's teaching.
I passed another milestone on my journey to affirmation when I read a short book by theologian Robert Song:
A Covenant Calling: Towards a Theology of Same-sex Relationships. Particularly, I think Song's exposition of New Testament sexual ethics is a great antidote to the heavily-laden sexuality derived from natural law, which, like so much theology post-Nicea, seems to ignore the radicality of Kingdom-based ethics as they apply to sex. What Alison and Song did for me was enable me to situate homosexuality into a Catholic theological context. This means that I no longer felt I was dissenting but delving ever deeper. The importance of this for me cannot be underestimated.
Along the way, I undertook no little Bible study
via commentaries and books. One book that touches on what the Bible, particularly the New Testament, has to say about homosexuality stands out. Sara Ruden's
Paul Among the People: The Apostle Reinterpreted and Reimagined in His Own Time. In summary fashion, Paul didn't address mutually loving, reciprocal, or even consensual homosexual relationships. There are other books, but keep in mind I am only marking mileposts, not chronicling my journey in detail. There is an indispensable interior aspect to this journey about which I am utterly incapable of writing about presently.
In addition to rejecting the untenable separation between person and act, my conscience bids me to no longer say one thing publicly while thinking something different. This is now unacceptably hypocritical to me. I am no longer willing to live with that level of cognitive dissonance. I grieve those times I pastorally tried to impose a preconception on someone else, failing to listen to them or to accept them. In addition to a couple of homilies and some blog posts from years gone by, which are still available, I can think of two particular people who were affected (afflicted?) by my pastoral ineptitude. Maybe by God's grace I will some day be able to ask their forgiveness in person.
I can't speak for anyone else, but I do not want to even be tangentially responsible for or remotely complicit in violence against gay people. Such violence is still far more prevalent that most of us would care to admit. A terrible incident that occurred in London this past week made international news (see
"Lesbian couple beaten on London bus after refusing to kiss for men"). In our current social and political climate, I think we can expect more of this kind of violence. It was strange how compelled I felt to write this today. I can honestly say that I needed to compose this. It is Pentecost and Pride month after all. Maybe I just needed a catharsis. God knows.
I passed the milestone that marked the end of my journey to being affirming when a few years ago my oldest daughter came out as gay. While I was a little surprised I was neither shocked nor disappointed. She had a steady girlfriend for awhile. It was this relationship that occasioned her disclosure. We made it a point to welcome them, to include them, to love them. When they split up last summer, my wife and I helped her through her first broken heart. She's doing fine now, moving forward in her driven way. She's a wonderful person. I am very proud of her. What matters is to be honest and to live with integrity knowing not only that you are loved but that you are free to love.
Even though the Catechism of the Catholic Church insists that sexuality "affects all aspects of the human person in the unity of his body and soul" (sec.
2332), it is important to not reduce anyone, including yourself, to her/his sexuality. "Chastity," the Catechism goes on to teach, "means the successful integration of sexuality within the person and thus the inner unity of man in his bodily and spiritual being" (
sec. 2337). Now, both sections of the Catechism I have cited go on to say other things having to do with gender complementarity and procreation. I find it interesting that when not "clarified" these pronouncements are more descriptive of reality and quite wholistic.
Where does that leave me? Well, in the same place I've been for several years now. I have just gone public with it. I am not an activist by nature. I do, however, have a low tolerance for what I perceive as being unjust. I am not going to start being defiant in homilies. I will continue to be non-condemnatory and try to focus on the essence of the Gospel, things having to do with loving my neighbor as I love myself and giving my life in service to others.
Something else I have utterly changed my mind about the past several years: women deacons. Don't worry. I don't feel compelled to compose an
apologia for that, at least not yet. This post is long enough to make up for no
traditio yesterday.
