The authors at Crisis Magazine have done an extraordinary job uncovering the misconceptions and outright misrepresentations of the Faith as put forward by a group of proudly “gay” and Catholic thinkers labeled as the New Homophiles. Their main philosophical tenants: “they accept the Church’s teaching that sexual activity can only occur between married men and women. They oppose a redefinition of marriage to include anyone else…They do not want to stop being gay; they don’t believe they can or even should. They believe God made them gay so they want to be known as gay and they want the Church to accept them on those terms. And they believe being gay is part of God’s plan and vocation for them.” Part and parcel with this willingness to at least partially embrace and celebrate their gayness is a strange interpretation regarding the writings of a rather obscure medieval Saint: St. Aelred of Rievaulx-
“The New Homophiles embrace and promote an interpretation of St. Aelred’s writings that favors the experience of ‘spiritual friendship’ among those with same-sex attraction. But, there are problems with their interpretation. Chief among the errors of the New Homophiles’ views on St. Aelred’s writings are:
1) The New Homophiles deliberately make room for ‘same-sex eros’ in their interpretation of St. Aelred’s ‘spiritual friendship.’
2) The New Homophiles seem willing to accept exclusive ‘chaste, gay couplehood’ under the rubric of St. Aelred’s ‘spiritual friendship.’
3) The New Homophiles advocate for vowed friendships as compatible with St. Aelred’s ‘spiritual friendship.’”
Reading this, I was rather astonished as I had no idea that anyone so deeply thought about special “friendships” between chaste homosexuals or chaste former homosexuals, let alone given it a name: for, soon after I left the gay lifestyle I formed a peculiar bond, something that would have been called a particular friendship within my later experiences in the religious life, with another gay refugee. Sadly, it all ended very badly.
Within a few months of barely surviving the gay lifestyle, I somehow discovered the Courage apostolate; at that time, mid-1999, the group met in dark and dingy combination store-room/mini-conference room at the Cathedral. I learned that these meetings were the last hope of the hopeless: guys my age (29) or older, fed up with the increasing desperation and loneliness which pervaded the gay scene, this lack of resolution in being gay drove a few to attempt escape. We huddled together for a sense of camaraderie and for the faithful old priest who offered Confession and, who, unlike a number of priests in liberal San Francisco, wouldn’t patronizingly pass you off as gay and okay. The stories were generally wretched; unlike myself, who immediately got out of San Francisco – most had staid and were attempting to remain chaste in a City where the gay revolution began. For most this constant exposure to temptation set up a cycle of endless recidivism. The two out-of-towners, who seemed to remain somewhat above the fray – where myself a man from the East Bay.
At first, the two of us got to know each other better when I offered him a ride home, driving over the Bay Bridge, so he would not have to ride BART (the Bay Area subway) late at night. We immediately became friends and were inseparable. Over the next few months, in our free time, if we were not together, we were on the phone. We always had a lot to talk about – our lives mirrored each other in countless ways: we were both born Catholics, had similarly troubled childhoods, ran to San Francisco to become gay, got caught up in all the sex, and left it for another life. We were both excited about everything to do with the Faith: we repeatedly visited all the beautiful churches in San Francisco that we once walked by a thousand times and paid no mind when we were in the life, we attended every religious music recital at St. Ignatius like it was rock concert, and endlessly poured through the books at the Daughters of St. Paul shop.
From the beginning our intentions were good – we were drawn together by an earnest desire of friendship caused by extreme loneliness; when you leave the gay lifestyle, you leave everything: your neighborhood, your friends, your way of life; you are left completely alone – it feels as if you just spent years on another planet after being abducted by aliens – then, suddenly you are redeposited on Earth in the middle of the Mojave Desert. Instinctively you cling to anyone that happens to pass by. Like a passing caravan in the distance – my friend became my savior, my one link to human contact and love.
Slowly, as we became more intensely linked, our relationship began to change. Sometimes, rather semi-nostalgically we talked about all we had given up: constant companionship, activities, sex. I was having a particular longing, not for the old life, but for the connection I felt with those I once knew – a bond formed in sex; for those who have never experienced it – male homosexual sex is incredibly empowering as it mimics a hyper-masculine form of quasi-violent bonding that feels like an initiation into manhood every time you do it; then, through our discussion of our past sex lives, by accident, we discovered our sexual compatibility. Quite instantaneously, we started to fall back into gay passive and dominant roles. At first, sliding up to each other on the coach while watching TV, holding hands at home while having an emotional discussion, hugging longer than the customary straight male three slaps on the back; when I wasn’t with him, I was thinking about the next time I would be with him. For, I not only longed for his emotional support, but for his physical presence. He made me feel wanted.
Quickly, we became co-dependent. That which we longed for in the gay lifestyle: closeness, masculine affirmation, and male love, we transposed to our relationship. Although we were not having sex, we became a miniature version of the Castro: a desperate place of sanctuary for all the lost little boys. In his book “The Truth About Homosexuality,” Fr. John Harvey warned against the tendency for recovering gay men to insulate themselves and to only seek each other’s company; with Courage meetings as “a refuge from the real world, in which people with homosexual tendencies form their own subculture.” Outside of Courage, we generally socialized only with other members – circling our wagons and protecting ourselves from the gay world around us; while he and I became a de-facto chaste couple around the Courage guys who understood our relationship. But, in actuality, it had become sick: I became possessive, jealous, and depressive when he was not around. Sometimes, we didn’t see each other for days at a time. Usually, on a weekend, when we did get together again – we would go away. On one such weekend, I was feeling incredibly vulnerable – for some reason I revealed something painful and cried; sitting very close to each other – we kissed; the next thing – we were making out.
That lapse back into homosexuality ruined everything. I blamed him, he blamed me; we blamed each other. We each acted like the spurned spouse in an adulterous marriage – except we both cheated, not on each other – but on God; and, we both knew it. I felt guilty, he felt guilty – we didn’t talk for a while. For a few months, we rekindled our friendship, but only as a part of a group. He moved away, now – once in a while – we correspond through e-mail.
Again, Fr. Harvey cautioned those entering such relationships citing the “emotional dependency” which often plagues these overly symbiotic and complicated connections. He was right: as I mentioned, former gay men leaving the lifestyle are especially susceptible to transferring their wounded longing for male affection towards those they meet in exile; if both participants in the “spiritual friendship” are same-sex attracted: the situation is primed for failure. In an endlessly fascinating book, one of Fr. Harvey’s most cogent, and, perhaps overlooked recommendations is this: “…Christian therapists recommend that the homosexual person seek to form same-sex friendship with a heterosexual person. It can be a step out of the homosexual subculture. Today there is a whole body of literature recommending that persons with homosexual inclinations seek out heterosexual models of masculinity and femininity in order to free themselves from the homosexual subculture.” Therefore, in advocating such tight relationships between same sex attracted individuals, I believe that the New Homophiles are rejecting a homosexual dependency based on genital activity in favor of another dependency based on emotions. Both are equally crippling and confirm the participants in the orientation. Only by stepping outside that which is familiar and comfortable, our attachment to being “gay” for example, can we truly find freedom and lasting healthy relationships; ultimately bringing us into closer union with God.
“The first Apostles, when Our Lord called them, were by the side of an old boat busy mending the torn nets. Our Lord told them to follow him and statim — immediately — relictis omnibus — they left everything — everything! And followed him...
And it does happen sometimes that we, who wish to imitate them, don’t quite leave everything, and there remains some attachment in our heart, something wrong in our life which we’re not willing to break with and offer up to God.
—Won’t you examine your heart in depth? Nothing should remain there except what is his. If not, we aren’t really loving him, neither you nor I.” ~ St. Josemaria Esciva
Links to articles cited: