When I first told, back in 2002, some still-in-the-life gay friends that I had returned to the Catholic Church, they looked at me with horror. “But, they hate us:” they said. I didn’t really argue, at the time I did not possess the spiritual or physical strength to do so, therefore, I just said: “It’s the place I want to be.” For most of them, this would be their last image of me. That night, I had gone to their party in the Castro, to only quickly get caught up in the intoxicating whirl of sex, alcohol, and swinging. I never returned again. Today, over ten years later, although I love the Catholic Church with all my heart, I still sometimes wonder if there was not a molecule of truth in their fear of Catholicism. This week, a bizarre story went across the gay media universe: a representative from a Catholic group said:
“The massive tornadoes that hit Illinois after the passing of the same sex “marriage” bill, has stimulated many people to reflection. In it, some see God’s chastisement; others see it as yet one more merciful warning from Providence; others yet deny both options and give various reasons.”
Now, I know that this statement represents only one person’s ill-informed opinion, still – it got picked up by the homosexual internet bloggers and went viral. Normally, I wouldn’t pay any mind to such nonsense; it was like the early reactionaries who claimed that AIDS was a punishment from God. Yet, from my own personal experience, I have often found those in the Church (clergy and laity alike) to be oftentimes less than welcoming. Sadly, it has continued to this day. Consequently, I have discovered, most gay men, if they return to the Church at all, seek out liberal minded priests and parishes who will celebrate their sexual woundedness rather than challenge them. I get it: for here, at least they find acceptance. In a curious twist, that my life was full of, soon after returning to the Faith in 1999, I started attending a Latin Mass at a very conservative parish. I loved the kindly priests and the beautiful liturgy, but, right after the Mass, the conversations with the faithful were often downright vicious: ridiculing priests, bishops, gays, those they judged as liberal and so on. At best, it was uncharitable. The only place I found in the Church that combined a welcoming attitude with an equal respect for the Truth was at Courage. But, there, we were segregated and frequently left feeling shunned. I will never forget making the rounds of my own diocese, trying to find interest in another chapter of Courage, and realizing that many of the priests were apathetic and skeptical; my lay friends feared I would embarrassingly out myself. I was discouraged and quickly distanced my life from any kind of future outreach.
Year later, I am filled with renewed hope: that the Church will embrace our suffering gay brothers and sisters and receive them with respect, but also with the Truth. This will not be easy. Case in point: a recent Pew Research Center study of 1,197 LGBT adults released on June 13, 2013, found that 79% of those questioned rated Catholicism as “unfriendly” to LGBT people. Only 4% view our church as “friendly.” For this reason, the majority of gays are reticent to even consider a return or conversion to Catholicism. As a result, they are often huddled and pushed together at heretical Christian churches that offer a superficial sense of belonging without any real demands on their daily lives. My old home of San Francisco is populated with numerous such places. Once, I had to watch as a good friend, who was also raised Catholic, searched endlessly for some spiritual center in his life to only settle into a wildly progressive Christian community that catered to his weaknesses rather than to what he could become. It’s those men and women that we have all failed.