Witnessing the Mystery of Silence: Being Gay and Catholic

Sitting in a Catholic Church on a Sunday, one can’t help but get caught up in the mystery of the celebration taking place at the altar. Whether we consider the mystical nature of the formulas we pronounce at different parts of the Mass or the solemn way in which we process to receive the Eucharist, there is something austere and yet majestic about the entire service. Just as the service itself is a mystery, in looking around the church on a Sunday I’m left wondering what stories are hidden beneath the faces of individual parishioners. In these moments, I am reminded of the beautiful diversity that makes up the body of Christ; however, I am equally cognizant of the pain that some members of that body may feel. I’m aware of this pain, because I am among those who endure it.

Since moving back to the Hudson Valley in July 2010, I’ve found it difficult to find a community as welcoming as the Church of St. Francis Xavier in New York City. Perhaps it’s because the parish was so open to all people without exception and truly lived, what I perceive, to be the message of Christ. A message founded in the love for, and acceptance, of all of God’s creation without exception. It was not uncommon to walk into this Church located in the heart of Chelsea on any given Sunday and witness a service dedicated to a specific cause related to social justice. Whether those assembled at the Church of St. Francis Xavier were speaking out for the rights of those living with a disability or standing up for the gay and lesbian people of Uganda, the congregation was witnessing the justice and peace that Christ promised. Today, I attend Mass at a much smaller church in the Hudson Valley and often wonder whether my silence is out of respect for the solemn way in which Mass is celebrated or out of fear of being ostracized. Is this the community that Christ had in mind when he proclaimed “I was a stranger and you welcomed me” (MT 25:35)? Or by my silence, am I denying the community the right to know who I truly am?

As someone who once thought that pursuing the priesthood would be the avenue by which to work for change in the Church with regards to its teachings on homosexuality, attending Mass as a layman in the Hudson Valley, I’m left wondering whether change of such magnitude is really possible. Yet, within this question of “possibility,” I find comfort in the great contributions that the Church has made throughout history. Whether speaking out against war, fighting for the rights of the hungry and the thirsty, or supporting the rights of working Americans, the Church has been and is still called to be a bearer of justice. As members of the laity, we have an obligation to remind the Church of its role as the great protector of justice and human rights. Still though amidst the great works of the Church, gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgender Catholics continue to be promised compassion, yet denied a validation of the love that they have for their partners. This is not an issue that I anticipate the Church to resolve over night, but this is an issue that I believe commands great discernment by the Church’s leadership of the love that is clearly expressed by countless same-sex couples. Amidst this call for discernment, I wonder if there will come a day when all humanity will truly be welcomed into the house of God as being created in His likeness? Will there come a day when our voices will no longer succumb to the silence that they have become all too comfortable with? Or will silence continue and therefore be complicit in the lack of change? These are questions that only time will reveal the answer to. Yet, as I re-read the Gospel reading for Sunday (MT 5:38-48), I take refuge in the words of Christ:

Pray for those who persecute you,
that you may be children of your heavenly Father

In reading these words, we are reminded to pray that the dualistic approach of Catholic social teaching on homosexuality may change as the world experiences the love evident between same-sex partners and their families. As a gay Catholic, I’m sometimes left wondering why I choose to attend services at a Church that on the one hand promises “respect, compassion, and sensitivity” (CCC, 2358) and on the other proclaims that I suffer from a “moral disorder” (CDF, 1986). It is in these moments of great doubt, that I remember why I continue to find comfort in sitting before such a great mystery. Bullied as a child, the greatest comfort and promise of hope that I found was not in the words of a great literary giant or even in the speech of a civil rights activist, rather I found comfort in the persecuted Christ. I found comfort in knowing that the Son of God was himself persecuted by humanity and walked among us with the hope of bringing justice to humankind.

Perhaps the time has come for those of us who have fallen silent in the Church out of fear, to follow the example of Christ and countless saints, to break through the silence to share our own stories. By telling our stories and opening our hearts to those around us in church, we can only hope that doing such will show others that Christ’s love lives in all of us without exception. In these moments of honesty and sharing of identity we will become as Pope Benedict XVI has said, “fountains of living water in the midst of a thirsting world.” In this great moment, we will be living examples of Christ’s healing of the deaf-mute man, for just as Christ opened his mouth and ears, so too can we take comfort in the promise that he will open our mouths to share our stories (MK 7:31-36).

So to answer my own question: “Is this the community that Christ sought to establish?” Yes, but it’s a Church run by leaders that must be open to the diverse lives that make-up the family of Christ. It’s a Church that must humbly learn from the example set by our brothers and sisters in other Christian denominations, so as to continue to grow as a single Christian family. St. Paul reminds us in his First Letter to the Corinthians “For just as the body is one and has many members, and all of the members of the body, though many, are one body, so it is with Christ” (1 Cor. 12:12). Just as the body grows, so too must we realize that the Church is never complete, but rather constantly growing and dependent on the voices of the persecuted to remind it of its mission of love and commitment to social justice.

Fear can no longer induce silence, but rather hope must awaken the voices of the persecuted sitting in the pews, so that one day we may all gather together as the children of God (cf. MT 23:37).

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Author’s Note: This essay would not have come to fruition without the thoughtful feedback of three close friends for whom I am truly grateful.

Questioning the Dignity of God’s Creation

At times, religion has been the great bearer of liberation, while at other points in history religion has manifested itself as a force of oppression. Today, our world suffers at the hand of persecution on many fronts and in most cases the Catholic Church has expressed concern regarding this lack of respect for human dignity. Whether we consider the Church’s outspoken efforts on behalf of the Palestinian people or Rome’s recognition that the death penalty is no longer a humane sentence in the modern world, we can find countless examples of the Church pleading for justice and peace on behalf of the oppressed. In Gaudium et Spes, the Church declared “social disparity between individuals and people of the one human race is a source of scandal and militates against social justice, equity, human dignity, as well as social and international peace.” In light of this, today the Church remains silent in the face of an attack on the dignity of God’s creation. As I write this blog entry, people everywhere are mourning the loss of one Ugandan man, David Kato, who stood in the face of injustice and cried out for equality. David, like many others, spoke out against the proposed Ugandan law against homosexuality.

As I began to type this blog entry, I debated whether I wanted to comment on such a sensitive issue, but realized that if I opted for silence, I would be complicit in this denial of human rights. As I read the articles covering the proposed Ugandan law, which includes death as a possible punishment for homosexuality, I realized how truly lost humanity has become. Yet today, as people mourn the loss of one, they are reminded that he spoke for many. In spite of this, the Church remains silent.

I find the proposed law in Uganda to be antithetical to everything considered civilized and Christian, yet I am equally disappointed by the silence of the Vatican in response to this deplorable law against creation. This act of silence is not limited to the Vatican; however, as a Catholic I pray for a statement from Rome. The silence reminds me of a nonverbal version of Peter’s encounter with the Galilean where he denies knowing Christ (Luke 22:55-60). For when we look at our brothers and sisters and deny their existence and their very souls, are we not denying Christ himself? Our silence is denial.

The Church’s emphasis on compassion with regards to homosexuality is clear. The Catechism of the Catholic Church asserts:

They [gay men and women] must be accepted with respect, compassion, and sensitivity. Every sign of unjust discrimination in their regard should be avoided (CCC 2358).

In exercising silence in the face of discrimination, the Church is failing to uphold its own teaching. This proposed Ugandan law against homosexuality and the punishments it institutes are in clear contradiction to the Church’s emphasis on “respect, compassion, and sensitivity.” So what are we as Catholics, and all Christians, called to do in response to this law? Pope Benedict XVI provides a path for the Christian response, in Deus Caritas Est, when he writes “love of neighbor is a path that leads to the encounter with God, and that closing our eyes to our neighbor also blinds us to God.” Even if people hold different views regarding homosexuality, a law that denies the right to life cannot be in conformity with either Catholic social teaching or common Christian principles. This denial of human rights for gays and lesbians in Uganda is an aberration for all Christians. As Christians, we are called to preserve the human rights of all people without exception.

In addressing the Ambassador from Great Britain, Pope Benedict XVI stated, “Tolerance and respect for difference… derive from an appreciation of the innate dignity and the inalienable rights of every human person.” Therefore, if we turn a blind eye to the gay and lesbian people of Uganda not only are we denying their dignity, but we are risking our own ability to see God. In the face of such a grave act of discrimination, Catholics and all Christians should speak out against this law.

Further, as the house of the Vicar of Christ and as a symbol of truth and peace, the Holy See must denounce this proposed law as being a threat to creation itself. If we fail to speak out against this injustice, we will be left uttering the words of Martin Niemoller:

First they came for the Socialists, and I did not speak out –Because I was not a Socialist. Then they came for the Trade Unionists, and I did not speak out — Because I was not a Trade Unionist. Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out — Because I was not a Jew. Then they came for me — and there was no one left to speak for me.

We must not allow injustice to spread. Instead, we must respond to such not with silence, but with a promise for a peace founded in love. As some reflect on whether their views on homosexuality impede their willingness to speak out against this injustice, let us remember the words of Christ:

You shall love the Lord, your God, with all your heart, with all your soul, and with all your mind. This is the greatest and the first commandment. The second is like it: You shall love your neighbor as yourself. (Matthew 22:37-39)

If we stand together, in love, against this injustice we will ensure that no inn is ever to full to receive a child of God.

A Man Called Peter and the New Evangelization

Have you ever started watching a movie that presented a Pollyanna approach to life and decided to take your mind out of misery by changing the channel? This was precisely the thought that went through my own mind as I started to watch A Man Called Peter, a 1955 classic based on the true story of a young minister, Dr. Peter Marshall (1902-1949). The film begins by introducing us to Peter, a Scottish man, who one day in the woods hears the call of God to pursue the life of a minister. He ends up leaving Europe for the United States to begin his journey towards becoming a preacher. Marshall rises quickly from his assignment at a humble countryside church in Georgia to eventually become the pastor of the “Church of the Presidents” in Washington, DC. Although this rise to power in itself seems slightly hard to believe, it is not the plot of the film that inspired me, but rather the content of the sermons presented by Dr. Marshall.

Standing behind a large pulpit, Marshall calls upon his congregation to reach out beyond the walls of the church to bring the outside world into the church. Peering down from a pulpit and speaking to a crowd of mainly Washington elites, Dr. Marshall draws their attention to the empty pews within the hallowed church. It was at this point in the film, that I recognized the powerful message the story offers for today’s world. Just as Dr. Marshall was the “Peter” upon which a new evangelization was taking place in Washington, so too are we enjoined in the mission of the universal Church to bring the message of hope to the world around us.

This is the same challenge that was offered to the Church by Pope Benedict XVI in June 2010 when he created the Council for New Evangelization. This new Council has been charged with reaching out to secularized countries with the hope of reawakening an understanding of the “Christian faith and of belonging to the Church.” In announcing the new council, Benedict declared that it is a response to “the deserts of the secularized world,” where “man’s soul thirsts for God, for the living God.”

Evangelization is not a new term in Christianity; however, it is a term that necessitates a consideration of twenty-first century realities and the impact of such on the success of this new evangelization. Questions pertaining to social media and how best to utilize such to spread the message of the Gospel, as well as competing cultural messages, require the Church to consider a method for bringing the Gospel to life amidst contemporary society. Though Dr. Peter Marshall challenged the status quo of his congregation’s evangelization efforts, even he lived in a very different culture than the realities that surround us today. In light of this, there is reason to hope. The promise of a new evangelization allows us to honestly reflect on the role of faith in our own lives, amidst our own interactions with contemporary culture.

The other day, I was talking with a friend and he inquired about my Facebook status which said “LOTH and then bed;” he wanted to know what “LOTH” meant. I explained that I pray the Liturgy of the Hours, to which he asked what it was. In continuing our conversation, I explained the role of the Liturgy of the Hours in sanctifying the day and one’s work throughout the day. I then went on to explain how faith has carried me through both the hills and valleys of life. Although I had hoped to continue this conversation at greater length, sadly I think my friend stopped listening once I mentioned that I prayed the office five times a day! Regardless, this was a conversation that opened a door, no matter how small that door may be. In this experience, I realized that it would be through similar, small, yet powerful discussions about faith that we’ll come to enter a dialogue not only between fellow humans, but also between the religious and the secular in a way that each will inform the other.

In fact, this “new evangelization” must be an opportunity not only for the Church to reach out to thirsty souls, but also for the Church to understand the world in which it now exists. As an institution, the Church must adopt a worldview that recognizes the varied cultures of the global community while still recognizing the importance of the Apostolic Tradition. The Second Vatican Council’s document Lumen Gentium helps us to understand the role of evangelization and how the Church, by its very nature, must adapt to the diversity of our world by appreciating that which encompasses it. In Lumen Gentium, the Council’s Fathers wrote “Since the kingdom of Christ is not of this world the Church or people of God in establishing that kingdom takes nothing away from the temporal welfare of any people. On the contrary it fosters and takes to itself, insofar as they are good, the ability, riches and customs in which the genius of each people expresses itself.” By bringing these customs and riches of the mind into the fold of the Church, we will come one step closer to obtaining the oneness for which we pray, for “the Catholic Church strives constantly and with due effect to bring all humanity and all its possessions back to its source In Christ, with Him as its head and united in His Spirit.”

In essence, Lumen Gentium and the Council for New Evangelization call upon the universal Church to awaken to the call for each of us to carry on the work of St. John the Evangelist, St. Paul, and all the saints in bringing the message of Christian hope to our world. This new evangelization does not necessitate a denial of secularized culture, but a recognition that the good works of such are born from the divine creation of God. Further, we must hope that this recognition will lead humanity to seek a means for integrating the message of Christ into daily life and work. By living our faith in the simple moments of life, by sharing our own stories of faith struggles, and by expressing love amidst moments of uncertainty, we will offer a source of certainty and a source of truth that flows through our hearts as a river flows through fertile land. It will be by linking these individual rivers together that we will feed a massive ocean that will give birth to the new evangelization. It will be this ocean that will serve as the source of water for a thirsty generation.

It will not be by merely documents or councils that evangelization sweeps the world, but rather it is dependent upon individual Christians living as Christ has called us to live.

Discovering Truth

Currently, I am reading An Introduction to Christianity by Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger (now Pope Benedict XVI); in the opening pages of his book, Ratzinger explores three approaches to understanding truth. In reflecting on these three approaches, I realized that they offer a means for understanding our world today. By considering what distinguishes each of these approaches, I believe that we become more aware about how one’s perception of truth might impact his or her perceptions regarding our culture at-large. For the sake of this essay, I am going to explore the three approaches in reverse order from how Ratzinger discusses them in his book.

Perhaps the dictum presented by Ratzinger that best describes our culture is verum quia faciendum, finding truth in the “makeable.” In our world today, it seems as if this approach to truth has overwhelmed the language of political, social, and economic discussions. Consider for instance political debates related to whether man can “create” life or questions related to our ability to “forge” peace. In our world today, both sides of the political divide present their own views as if they are absolute fact. Sadly, they fail to realize that these “facts” are merely the products of our minds rather than truth in the absolute sense. As a world, we seem focused on questions of the future and creating a new tomorrow, however, in solely focusing on the makeable nature of a particular issue, we deny God being the beginning and the end. In ascribing to a definition of truth that emphasizes man’s ability “to create,” we forget that we are in fact a manifestation of creation itself (Ratzinger 1969).

A second approach, which Ratzinger explores, is verum quia factum. He explains that with this approach, we can only “truly know what we have made ourselves” (Ratzinger 1969). In other words, humanity embraces a view of truth that finds its definition in history. In the case of verum quia factum, it intrigues me to think how willingly humanity accepts the discoveries of science, but often questions faith. A mere 132 years ago, Thomas Edison invented the light bulb, an invention that today is accepted as fact without question. Yet if we truly examine the light bulb, we are surely left with countless questions and perhaps even left doubting how precisely it was invented. Still though in absolute darkness, we flick a switch and are able to clearly see the room around us. We accept the relationship between the switch and light-filled room without question, because we recognize the truth behind its relationship as being “firmly” established. Perhaps when we examine the relationship at closer detail, we realize how weird it is. Although as humans we are willing to accept the “truth” behind a switch, a few wires, and a bulb bringing light to a room, many of us still doubt Christ being the light of the world. Is it because Christ does not require a switch for him to be “turned on” that we doubt his existence and in turn truth itself?

The final approach discussed by Ratzinger is verum est ens, being is truth (Ratzinger 1969). It is in recognizing the beauty of our own existence that we come to understand the creative force of truth itself. In essence, it is in ascribing to this dictum that we come to understand how being embraces both the past and the makeable future in a way that enhances our understanding of not only truth, but also the world around us. Christ came not only as love incarnate, but also as a living example of truth. In his living ministry, Christ exhibited the meaning of truth in the past, in the future and above all in the eternal.

Consider the scene in the New Testament where Christ appears before the eleven disciples at Galilee. It is here that many of the disciples recognized Christ, but the Gospel makes clear that “some doubted” (MT 28:16-18). In response, Christ declares:

All power in heaven and on earth has been given to me. Go, therefore, and make disciples of all nations, baptizing them in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit, teaching them to observe all that I have commanded you; and behold, I am with you all days, even unto the consummation of the world. (MT 28:18-20)

In this powerful moment, Christ embraced the truth of the past, the truth of the future, and the truth found in the eternal. In accepting this commission, the disciples embraced the value of all three approaches to discovering the meaning of truth, but recognized the absolute nature of verum est ens. In today’s world, it will again be through looking to the heavens that we awaken to the deception of contemporary culture. Truth is not merely found in either what we have made in the past or intend to create in the future, but rather truth is found in the confines of our own hearts in a way that allows us to live and pray for a better tomorrow. One can only hope that policymakers entrusted with safeguarding the common good, will recognize that they are not charged merely with learning from the past and with building a “makeable” future, but rather they are charged with embracing the peace and love that Christ revealed to humanity. In this revelation, Christ revealed an absolute truth to the world: truth is in the eternal.