And oh, that phrase: intrinsically disordered!
Leave it to a theologian to devise such a nice way of saying that homosexuals are disgusting perverts, that we can be tolerated, but no more, and that our supposed "sexuality" is an abomination in the sight of God.
As homosexuals, we occupy a special place in the realms of moral failure. After all, it's not just any sinner that can earn the title of "intrinsically disordered." The Catholic Church doesn't describe alcoholics that way. Or meth heads. Or murderers. Or the multitude of fornicators and adulterers and masturbators. It reserves that special term for us homosexuals.
I do my best not to think on such gloomy things, or at least not think too hard about them, but recently I was bitch-slapped by the archbishop of San Francisco who announced that Speaker of the House Nancy Pelosi was no longer welcome to receive holy communion in his diocese because of her stance on the issue of abortion. I was left breathless and heartily agitated by this "sacraments as weapons" approach to pastoral care. I was also reminded that as a so-called "gay Catholic," I too could easily be singled out by the church hierarchy for a good what for, and that while I could blithely ignore church teaching on homosexuality, archbishops like the one in San Francisco were certainly not ignoring me.
I used to tell myself that my church-going was a rather radical act, that I knew I was not a sinner and had done nothing wrong, and that if other people wanted to be all judgey and stuff, well, that was their problem and not mine. I told myself that one of the reasons we fought for gay rights was so that we could go and do all the things that "normal" people do -- like going to church, if that was our thing. I told myself there was a certain sort of valor in being true to the Church even though the Church was not true to me. I told myself that I had spiritual needs, just like "normal" people, and that I should not be cast into the outer darkness as though my soul were nothing more than collateral damage in the Church's eternal war on sinners and losers.
And I believed those things.
But then, on a recent Sunday morning, I woke up and read that news article about the archbishop in San Francisco denying communion to Nancy Pelosi -- and I got mad. Goodness gracious, I got mad! I got so mad I should probably go to confession because there was smoke coming out of my ears and an astonishing array of curse words and colorful bits of vulgarity exploded out of me. I was not simply mad; I was furious.
But, over and above that, I was hurt. Dismayed. It was like that archbishop had rudely ripped off the Band-aid I had put on my feelings about being both gay and Catholic and had suddenly exposed the ugliness I had tried so hard to hide.
Some folks told me I shouldn't let any archbishop or anyone else's bad behavior affect my faith. And I readily agreed with them. One's faith should not depend on the good behavior of someone else. Problem was, my faith -- my conscience -- was telling me that to support an organization that teaches such ugly, hurtful things about people like me was not right. That I, as an older gay man who had suffered horribly because of those teachings, ought to know better. That it was wrong of me to support an organization that was teaching entirely new generations of Catholics that gay people like me were less than, second rate, and not as deserving of the same sort of respect accorded to "normal" people.
I don't like drama, though. I don't like going around with my tail feathers in a huff. And I certainly don't like making mountains out of mole hills. I like to keep my feelings in hand and to listen to my doubts, but not be pushed around by them. But try as I might to dust myself off and move on -- to "shake it off," to quote Taylor Swift -- I could not. A feeling of uneasiness had settled into my bones. Something was not right.
One of my first reactions to that story about the archbishop was to wonder aloud how I could support a Church that does not support me -- and that was the crux of the problem. It took me a few weeks of anguished hand-wringing, but I finally figured out what was bothering me, which was the fact that the church, because of its teachings on homosexuality, literally could not support me. Folks could be tolerant, but being tolerated is not the same as being respected. One only tolerates something when one feels superior to it and decides to have compassion and patience and put up with it. I don't want to be tolerated. If I'm going to sit down to dinner, I want the same thing that everyone else is eating, not crumbs thrown from the table.
Here's the problem: The Church teaches that the sexuality of a young gay man or woman is "intrinsically disordered" and sinful, and that if such a young person meets and falls in love with another young person of similar persuasion, their budding relationship cannot be supported, their feelings are disordered and dreadfully sinful, and they will go to hell if they "give in" to such disordered passions.
Try to remember when you were young and fell in love for the first time. What was the reaction of those around you? If you were a boy falling in love with a girl, were you shamed for it? Were you told you would go to hell if you gave in to such feelings? Were you told it was "unnatural" to feel such attractions, that you should pray to God to heal you, that the Devil himself might be tempting you and trying to lure you away from God and the straight and narrow?
Remember what it was like to be a teenager? To be so painfully self-aware and self-conscious? To be so overwhelmed by so many new feelings?
The job of a teenager is to push mom and dad away and figure out how to stand on one's own two feet. This is a natural process. To become independent. To figure out who you are, and how you are going to make your way in the world, and who your friends are going to be, and how you're going to survive. Suddenly, the approval of your peers becomes much more important than the approval of mom and dad. This is natural. This is how it works. This is how young people separate from their parents and make their way in the world and eventually create families of their own.
What the Church does to its LGBT kids at this crucial juncture in their lives is to introduce the most dreadful sort of slut-shaming and fear-mongering about their sexuality. The consequences can be devastating. Just ask the parents of all the many young people who committed suicide because they felt so ashamed of themselves because they were gay. Hell, ask me, because I tried to commit suicide many times in my younger years because I was so completely ashamed of myself and had prayed so hard and so often to be "cured" -- prayers that were never answered.
The question, for me, is this: How can I continue to be Catholic? How can I, in good conscience, support an organization doing such horrendous damage to young LGBT folks?
My faith tells me I cannot.
As a lifelong Catholic, this was not the answer I wanted. In fact, this answer breaks my heart. I love going to Mass. I love being in the choir. I love my statues and devotions -- they give me a sense of continuity with the past. I love going to Holy Communion. I love my Catholic friends. I love my local parish. I love all the good things they do for people. I love the nuns who run the parish. I love being part of it.
But ...
I have come to a place where I cannot ignore the contradictions anymore. I cannot turn a blind eye to the harm being caused by an institution that has trampled on gay people for thousands of years and will keep right on doing so.
When respect is not being served, one needs to get up from the table -- and leave.
I have not been to Mass since that Sunday morning when I read that article. I don't know if I will ever go to Mass again. I don't know if I can.
What I do know is that the damage done by the Church to LGBT folks for so many centuries is not trivial -- and should not be trivialized. What I do know is that God loves and respects all His children, not just the heterosexual ones, and wants all of them to love and be loved.
If you ask me, what's "intrinsically disordered" is the ugly, hurtful things that the Church teaches about gay people. It's an archbishop using Holy Communion as a weapon. It's a whole slew of bishops and cardinals covering up sexual crimes against children. It's a Church that once believed it had the moral right -- and duty -- to torture and kill those considered heretics or "witches." But it's not two people who want to love each other in a way that's natural, comforting, and healing.
When the Allied forces liberated the concentration camps in Nazi Germany, they freed not just the Jews but others, a large group of whom were homosexuals. While the Jews and other nationalities were returned to their homes, the homosexuals were sent back to various prisons since being gay was considered a crime.
Gay people have a long history of being "criminals," and the Catholic Church has been a major player in that history. Now safely into the 21st century, the Church has toned down its rhetoric to the ridiculous "intrinsically disordered" line, but it's the same message.
And it still hurts.
And it leaves people like me with a painful choice to make.
