Friendship in Christ: A conversation about chastity and same-sex attraction

 My latest article at Catholic World Report, here.

Innocence and Sophistry

 

"Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God; trust also in me." (Jn 14:1)

While I was made aware of it dropping like a nuke in Rockefeller center yesterday, I'm not going to join the chorus and write about Fiducia Supplicans here. All I will say is that the DDF and the Holy Father's timing is impeccable. One has to give credit where credit is due.

I should also say that yesterday was one of the worst days I had had in a while for various but unrelated reasons. When I texted my friend Kevin Wells: "Got time for a pep talk?" I was unaware that he thought I was referring to the aforementioned document that was released just in time for Christmas. So getting the run down on what was going on in the world was kind of the shiny bow on an especially dour twenty four hours.

Truth be told, this time of year I always long to be in a cave somewhere rather than working, scuttling between stores, or being immersed in the overall frantic spirit around me. But the news of the document--which gives explicit approval for priest's to impart a blessing on same-sex couples and those in "irregular situations"--was, ironically, just what I needed to snap me out of the depressed and frazzled state I found myself in.  

As a father, I feel that one of my primary jobs is guarding and preserving the innocence of my children for as long as I am able, to give them an innocent childhood and a solid foundation for when they do go out into a world full of wolves. When my five year old lays down next to my wife and I in bed and falls asleep, I find myself just looking at him, kissing his head while he sleeps and running the back of my hand along his cheeks as he breathes quietly between us. These are the moments that day by day slip away, until they inevitably one day become a memory; and so I try to spend those late-night hours just listening, watching, and gazing over him as he sleeps.

And so I was especially repulsed when my inadvertent naivety of yesterday's current events popped my bubble. Not only because of the distraction from what should be an anticipatory spiritual season of waiting and gazing with this nefarious pastoral pronouncement, but because of the nature--the subject matter--inherent in the pronouncement itself. While "the Heavens declare the glory of God" (Ps 19:2), and the Virgin Mother's Magnificat magnifies the Lord who looks down on His lowly servant (Lk 1:46-55), the sins that cry to Heaven (Gen 18:20-21) instead mute with such crude force what should be a quiet, guarded innocence of gazing on the Christ child in his manger among the Holy Family and the shepherds that had come to worship him. They were amazed (Lk 2:18), while Mary treasured all these things and and pondered them in her heart (Lk 2:19).

In the stable, awe and innocence--of Mary, Joseph, the Christ child, and the shepherds--is replete in that Holy Night. There is no news, no communication from outside that setting, that defiles that scene. And yet, here we are in late December of 2023 and the defecation of impurity has resounded not from the pagan nation of Herod's Rome, but from the throne of the Christ Child's future Bride, the Church. Simply defined, sophistry is the "use of fallacious arguments, especially with the intention of deceiving." Can any description of what came out of Rome yesterday be more fitting? And just days before Christians worldwide seek to sit at the foot of the manger and simply gaze, worship, and be filled with awe that a child--God himself made incarnate in innocence--would redeem us from this fallen world. For "He has cast down the mighty from their thrones, and has lifted up the lowly" and has scattered the proud in their conceit (Lk 1:52, 51). 

If I am urging you to keep your gaze focused on the innocent Christ lying helpless in a manger this season, it is only because it is taking everything in myself to do the same. Just when you think your back can't bear anymore weight, that your spirit will collapse under the weight of sin from our shepherds, the hand of the Church adds another kilo to the stack. It's enough to make one buckle.

Which is why the timing of the Ember days this week are opportune as well--to bring us back in a focused spirit of poverty, hunger, and penance. While we should not let them go to waste, and recognize as those in the Christian East do that "Christ came into the world to save sinners, of whom I am the first," also let yourself grieve for the death of innocence that the Vatican has subjected us to during this season at the most inopportune time. Feel it, be disgusted by its disgrace, and realize at this point it is almost impossible to bear this weight of sorrow under your own strength. 

It is a weight too strong for even the most stoic of men most days--but for the babe in the manger before you who will bear the weight of sin and the world on his shoulders--"he will bear you up, lest you strike your foot against a stone" (Ps 91:12).  And remember the true nature of blessing in the Canticle of the Three Youths in the book of Daniel:

Bless the Lord, all you works of the Lord;

Praise and exalt him above all forever.

Angels of the Lord, bless the Lord;

You heavens, bless the Lord;

All you waters above the heavens, bless the Lord.

All you hosts of the Lord; bless the Lord.

Sun and moon, bless the Lord;

Stars of heaven, bless the Lord.

Every shower and dew, bless the Lord;

All you winds, bless the Lord.

Fire and heat, bless the Lord;

Cold and chill, bless the Lord.

Dew and rain, bless the Lord;

Frost and cold, bless the Lord.

Ice and snow, bless the Lord;

Nights and days, bless the Lord.

Light and darkness bless the Lord;

Lightning and clouds, bless the Lord.

Let the earth bless the Lord;

Praise and exalt him above all forever.

Mountains and hills, bless the Lord

Everything growing from the earth, bless the Lord.

You springs, bless the Lord;

Seas and rivers, bless the Lord.

You dolphins and all water creatures, bless the Lord;

All you birds of the air, bless the Lord.

All you beasts, wild and tame, bless the Lord;

Praise and exalt him above all forever.

You sons of men, bless the Lord;

O Israel, bless the Lord.

Priests of the Lord, bless the Lord;

Servants of the Lord, bless the Lord.

Spirits and souls of the just, bless the Lord;

Holy men of humble heart, bless the Lord.

Ananias, Azarias, Misael, bless the Lord;

Praise and exalt him above all forever.

Let us bless the Father and the Son and the Holy Ghost;

Let us praise and exalt God above all forever.

Blessed are you in the firmament of heaven;

Praiseworthy and glorious forever.

The Shirt That Never Fit

 

As I have written here before, all I ever wanted to be was a monk. From the age of 19 (a year after becoming Catholic) to the age of 28, I discerned a religious vocation. Over the course of those nine years, I visited the (Contemplative) Benedictines, the Trappists, the CFRs, and even inquired with the Carthusians, doing periodic Observerships across the country and corresponded for a number of years with the vocation directors of the respective communities. To me, monastic life made sense and seemed in my mind to be intentional Christianity simply taken seriously and lived out in fruitful expression. 

And then I met my wife-to-be, and in a matter of weeks knew that marriage, to this woman God had set aside, was my true vocation.

Happiness is a by-product of our vocation, not the target we are aiming for. God's ways are not our ways, His wisdom surpasses all understanding, and He knows us better than we even know ourselves and wants what is best for us "that we might have life, and have it more abundantly" (Jn10:10). Because of that, when we are pliable and seek His will for our lives, things have a way of fitting into place. The priest or religious who is called to that vocation, despite the challenges and crosses, finds peace and purpose, and yes even happiness. The same goes for those whose vocation is marriage. Happiness is not at odds with the crosses that inevitably come with those callings--for Christ embraced his Cross; he loved it, because his vocation was to die, and to give his life as a ransom for many. Were he to have come down from it and settled down with Mary Magdalene (as Nikos Kazantzakis sketched out as The Last Temptation of Christ)...well, we don't have to go there.

I talked about this in a previous post, this idea of the 'close but no cigar' situation we sometimes find ourselves in: in vocations, relationships, jobs, identities, and life in general,

"The analogy I have always used to describe this experience (or discernment) that seemed to describe it best was akin to finding the shirt you always wanted at the local thrift store, trying it on, and finding that it's one size smaller that what you typically wear. You can make it work if you walk out of the store with it. But then you begin to notice it chaffs under the arms, rides up an inch too much at the waist, and is just snug enough to be uncomfortable. It looks great--it just doesn't fit. Because it wasn't made for you. 

You could use the 'trying to fit a square peg in a round hole' analogy, but it doesn't quite work because no matter what you do in that situation, you can't ram it through. It would be almost easier if it was like this, because the fact that you have the wrong piece would be apparent from the start. You wouldn't spend ten years trying to make it so (that would almost be an apt description of a kind of insanity). 

You could use the 'puzzle piece' analogy, which is closer to the mark, but that isn't quite it either. You know, when you find a 'close but not cigar' piece in a puzzle, and it's almost the one you are looking for, but you'd have to slam your fist down on the table to force it, which would distort the edges and present an inaccurate picture. 

No, I think the shirt analogy works best in this circumstance. You want to look good. You found a good deal on a great brand. Surely, it should fit, despite the label saying 'Small' rather than 'Medium.' The stitches aren't breaking, the buttons aren't popping off. You can tolerate the discomfort to an extent, but it's far from fitting like a glove. You always kind of feel it, even if you convince yourself otherwise. 

When we don't pay attention to these things, these little chaffings, we can sometimes miss the ways in which God is telling us "this isn't for you. I have something set aside for you. But you have to trust me." Because God rarely speaks to us audibly, we have to rely on these signs and signals to discern whether we are trying to conform our will to God's, or God's will to our life." 

If I would have tried to force God's hand, and said "I'm going to become a monk come hell or high water," and assuming an Abbot who was not as discerning accepted me a postulant, I think it would have been like that one-size-too-small shirt. It may have worked, even for years, were I to push down those nagging feelings of dis-ease. And the religious life is a good life, objectively speaking. But I would not have flourished, either spiritually or in a human sense, but would have stunted.

I write about this experience as a pivot-point to how it relates to those who are either openly gay or struggle with same-sex attraction (SSA). I parse those two categories out separately because as we know, and as the Church teaches, sexual orientation or proclivity is not the same as a willful embrace of the homosexual lifestyle. Just as it is easy to point out the "clown Masses" in the Novus Ordo as an indicative example of post-conciliar abuses and deficiencies and use it as ammunition in the Traditionalist arsenal, this is not the norm. Rather, it's the beige, lukewarm banality of the New Mass in the majority of churches that is normative and the real problem at hand. 

In the same manner, we cannot point to BDSM actors, TransPorn or the extremes of homosexual deviancy as the norm. Yes, it is out there. But also out there are those in stable homosexual partnerships, those who are gay and single, those who teach and work and hold office and, yes, even attend church among you. Some may be married to members of the same sex, some to members of the opposite sex. Additionally, there are those who may struggle with SSA and not identify as "gay" but who nevertheless maintain lives of chastity, have deep prayer lives, may attend the TLM, and not feel any inclination to identify with the LGBT community. 

It is a hard pill for the world to swallow, but the teachings of the Church, by way of holy scripture and tradition, is that not only are homosexual acts a grave depravity, intrinsically disordered, and contrary to the natural law (CCC 2357), but that the inclination itself is objectively disordered (2358). And so we run into this issue of human flourishing. Is it possible to compartmentalize that part of ourselves--our sexuality--and still flourish and be psychologically healthy? Can we live (and by happy) without sex? Are those with SSA somehow not whole as human persons? Additionally, how can those with such proclivities and attractions willingly submit themselves to a spiritual authority (the Church) that teaches that those inclinations are, in fact, "disordered"?

As any psychologically healthy person knows, sex is a big part of life; whether you're having it or not having it, married or single, gay or straight--it consumes a lot of our thoughts, our behaviors, and how we live out our lives and pursuits. Because it is a gift from God for the continuing of the human race, and has the power of fire (which can warm a house and cook food or burn down a village), we must treat it reverently, carefully, and soberly. 

In many ways, the mystery of the Incarnation points to how we integrate our sexuality with our personhood. For God, in taking on flesh, was in another sense "out of his skin"--that is, the Father's home is in heaven. For many during the Patristic age, the Incarnation was a complete scandal, for the Most High does not live in houses made by human hands (Acts 7:48). So how can God take on the body of a (finite) man? How can Jesus as God find himself at home in a human body? It seems--disordered, in a sense. 

Integration is no easy feat. Those who find themselves called to the vocation of marriage may find it is not easy to live with someone so different than themselves. Learning the nuances and subtleties of lovemaking takes time and tenderness. Deferring one's own self-interest, day after day, takes work. If I am saved by God's grace, it will be as a married man. In the confection of that Sacrament, my identity has been altered--I am not longer one among another, but "one flesh" with another.

And we don't always get this right, either. People grow apart, change. Betray one another. Jump ship, break their vows. Act out. Forget love. Those who are divorced (but sacramentally married still in the eyes of the Church) find themselves with new and heavy crosses they are called to bear. When a partner gets ill, or comatose, the spouse can find themselves saying "this is not what I signed up for." Those who are widowed with a gaggle of young kids find themselves alone, grieving, and burdened. In all of this, as in all of life, we cannot run from our crosses because our crosses were made for us. They are wrapped up in the mystery of our vocation. 

But I think for people who are gay or struggle with same sex attraction, there are additional layers. I don't have statistics, but I would imagine a higher proportion may have been victims of childhood abuse, either realized or unrealized. Not all of course, but wounds and trauma can be deep-seated in many cases. Because our sexuality is wrapped up with our identities, our sense of self, our personalities, and everything else, when that is set off-track by the psychological and spiritual murder of sexual abuse, it is not an easy feat to find wholeness and healing. The lower-cost alternative, in many cases sadly, is to mask it.

You may be wondering at this point why there is a picture at the top of this post featuring three men--my friend Joseph Sciambra, celebrity provocateur Milo Yiannopoulos, and Catholic journalist Michael Voris--that seems to have nothing to do with what I have been writing about up until now. As public figures in the digital age, they can be open targets for both the right and the left. Joseph is an open-book (for better or worse) online and does not hide his past life as a former gay porn actor and his conversion to Christ, as well as his animosity towards the Catholic Church and leaving it for Orthodoxy; Milo has not been in the news much lately, but has always struck me as a complicated individual, a walking paradox of his own construction who also happens to be Catholic; Voris and Church Militant was never my cup of tea (I always thought their brand of journalism was reckless and sloppy), but of course with the news of his ousting by the CM board it's not hard to notice that, sadly, his secrets were eating him alive. 

For these three SSA men, theirs was the "shirt that never fit." For Joseph, who has suffered abuse (both sexual and ecclesial) at the hands of the Church, he found he could no longer exist in the Stockholm-like situation of remaining Catholic. I do not judge him (which doesn't mean I condone his flight to the arms of the East, only that I understand it). For Milo, his hatred of "the left" and embracing his identity as an “alt-right f*g" was a both perplexing and savage. He sought out his identity in politics, in social media, and in the spotlight--a kind of gay right Paris Hilton--and no exposure was bad exposure. Voris I suspected had struggles with SSA (which was later confirmed), and his bulldog demeanor of hunting down and rooting out enemies of the Faith seemed to be channeled from something deeper within himself. I do believe he loves Christ and the Church, but that there are other issues at play psychologically and spiritually that need to be worked out.

I hate admitting this, but it was fairly obvious from my laptop vantage point over the years that these three particular men were not whole, were wounded and constructing their respective houses as best they knew how. Their constructed personas were compensations, not vocations. 

In Joseph's book Disordered, he wrote about spending his whole life looking for that wholeness in the arms of other men--not because that was the Promised land, but because those arms opened wide and gave him a rental home. And that, I think, is the struggle for most, if not all, gay men: what will make me whole? If my inclinations are, in fact, "disordered," I can turn myself to order myself to the disordered (in the gay lifestyle), or I can "disorder" and contort myself into the order of Catholicism. The first is a deadend, and the second (while it holds the potential for wholeness), when undertaken without addressing the necessary healing, is a recipe for not only cognitive dissonance, but disastrous scandal.  

If the wisdom is in the means, however, it begs the question: is there a middle way between these two unsavory roads? Because I am not a gay man, this not my road to walk. But to think there are not men and women with SSA who kneel with us in the pews at Mass, who live in our neighborhoods and community, who we are not called to love as pro-bono charity cases but as brothers and sisters and equals would be naive at best and an injustice at worst. We need to come to terms as Catholics that we are living among the walking wounded--gay and straight alike--and get off our spiritual high horse and ivory internet towers. The work of healing is hard enough; that we are erecting field hospitals in a war zone to treat the wounded necessitates we become whole ourselves.

All men are called to conform themselves to the cross of Christ, and our crosses are tailor made. Christ died not for some, but for all (2 Cor 5:15). The journey to wholeness--of which our sexuality is just one part--is one we are all called to labor towards, just as we work out our salvation in fear and trembling (Phil 2:12). When we are not whole we employ counterfeits, costumes and personas, in our attempt to find the shirt that fits. For some its a Givenchy suit; for others, it's a pair of stilettos and a halter top; still others a feathered pink boa and a rainbow sash. 

But in all cases, the loving eyes of Christ who calls us to wholeness gaze straight through the wardrobe to the dressing room of the heart. Just as he appeared in the Upper Room to Thomas and the disciples without forcing the door to offer his peace, so too he sees the heart of man (1 Sam 16:7) underneath the clothes we don. He brushes away our past and our sin with a gentle sweep of his arm, steps over the fortified barriers we erect to keep him out because of our wounds, smiles at our feeble defenses and protests and sits down at table to sup with us. 

If you say, “Surely the darkness will hide me and the light become night around me," you will soon know that even the darkness will not be dark to Him; the night will shine like the day, for darkness is as light to Him. For He created your inmost being; He knit you together in your mother’s womb. And when you are made whole, you will praise Him--because you are fearfully and wonderfully made. You will find then the shirt that fits.

Your Gay Neighbor

 

We are on vacation--it was 46 degrees last night; unseasonably cool for the beginning of June. We rent a little (and I mean little) cottage earlier in vacation season (one of the advantages of homeschooling) so we can get the off-peak rate. This area has resisted a lot of commercialization, and it hasn't changed much honestly since I was a kid. We love it here.

The guy we have been renting from the past few years has been really nice to deal with. He's accommodating, and has offered some perks (like a free night this year) that are very much appreciated since we are on a budget. We had my wife's niece paint a picture of the cottage last year (she is a graphic designer/artist) as a gift to him in appreciation for renting to us. He was appreciative of that as well.

I also surmised he is a gay man given a few magazines (not the explicit kind, just culture stuff!) we found around the cottage, the tasteful interior design and decor...and the Human Rights Campaign sticker on the front door. Of course that's an assumption. Gayness (or our family's religious affiliation) is a non-issue in our particular tenant/renter relationship. I reserve our week, send him a check, and communicate as needed via email or text. We're grateful he's so accommodating and easy to work with.

It's a similar situation at work. A good number of the faculty members I work with are gay, and they are also very nice to work with and pleasant individuals for the most part. Of course they have particular quirks, like all people do; that's normal. But again, that aspect of their lives doesn't come up a whole lot, at least in my interactions with them. I've worked with many of them for almost a decade now; never had any issues or complaints.

One of the things I liked most in Of Gods And Men is how the film showed the way the Trappist monks lived and worked among their Muslim neighbors. Even when their lives were being threatened by Islamic extremists, the Christian monks did not turn on their Muslim neighbors or caricature them as 'the enemy.' They were their neighbors, whom they have co-existed peaceably with for years and with whom there was mutual trust and the foundations of relationships. When you have to live with someone by circumstance for years on end, it can be akin to a kind of marriage--you just have to find a way to compromise, live together, and work things out, assuming there is mutual respect between parties.

"The first part of the film is idyllic, reflecting a decade of leadership by Father Christian (Lambert Wilson). The son of a distinguished French military family, he had been raised in Algeria and had fought in the Algerian war of independence on the French side. After entering the Cistercians, he dedicated his life to establishing a strong relationship with Muslims. Before joining the monastery in Tibhirine, Christian studied with the White Fathers in Rome, an order devoted to both African conversion and Christian–Muslim reconciliation. He often invited their Muslim neighbors to share meals and discuss their religious beliefs at the monastery. A student of the Quran, which is seen prominently on his desk, he noted that devout Muslims identify with the monks because they both had ritual daily prayers. He was often critical of his co-religionists, something that probably had its roots in his familiarity with prejudiced elites in France and Algeria. In addition, his great great aunt had been a member of the order of the Society of Helpers in the 1880s. Serving the sick poor and outcasts especially blacks in New York City and St. Louis, they fought against religious prejudice in the Church at the time (Kiser 2002). By the same token, many of his colleagues thought that he was too “sensitive” and loathe to criticize Muslims or the Quran." [1]

We would be naive and woefully misguided if we thought there were no orthodox men and women in the Church today who may happen to be same-sex attracted. Being an orthodox Catholic isn't a kind of litmus test where we stop people at the door to make sure they meet the qualifications to worship in the house of God; we are all sinners saved by grace. Orthodox means right belief. And belief comes from the individual themselves. So, to the degree with which their beliefs conform to that of the Church and they are sincerely trying to align their lives with that right belief, that is orthopraxis.

Case in point--we drove 30 minutes or so down the Cape this morning to attend a High Mass for Trinity Sunday at a small, simple wooden mission chapel. I'm at the point where I would drive three times that distance to worship in the usus antiquior, and especially while traveling. We have re-routed our already long drives in the past to hit up a ICKSP for First Saturday or Corpus Christi, and it is always worth the extra effort. I say that without feeling the need to denigrate the Novus Ordo. But the reality is I have developed a kind of liturgical anxiety when it comes to the random N.O. parish, because I never know what kind of situation I am walking into. With the traditional Latin Mass, there are no real surprises, and no nonsense. For the benefit of my family, and as the spiritual head of my household, this is a sacrifice I am more than willing to make to spare my children from the potential for unforeseen liturgical scandals. 

What's cool is that even though the Traditional Latin Mass is more or less uniform, there is still diversity within it. I loved seeing African Americans, altar boys with Downs Syndrome, young families and old timers. Even though we were travelers and guests at this particular parish community, we were neighbors in spirit and liturgy.

I also noticed at this particular Mass that two men around my age came in together just before Mass and sat in the pew in front of us. They were dressed similarly--white button downs and khakis. They could have been brothers, they could have been friends or military. But it's very possible they could have been a couple as well. From outward appearance, it seemed that they were unfamiliar with the Latin Mass, though they followed along well--kneeling when the congregation knelt, standing when they stood, etc. I'm always curious (not just with these two men) what people's "stories" are. But the fact of the matter is, it was none of my business. 

When it came time for communion, I noticed neither of them went up to receive. Again, that is none of my business, and could have been for a myriad of reasons--from potentially not even being Catholic but simply "curious", to not being in a state of grace, to simply not feeling disposed by conscience to receiving. They, like all of us, were there to worship God in a fitting manner. They disappeared quietly to their car after Mass. Not knowing their story, I prayed for their intentions and journey. 

Priests like Fr. James Martin do a great disservice to the Church and fellow Christians by their obfuscation and untruth--that the Church (or church) should and will change to accommodate those Catholics in the LGBT community. He--and those who abet such "accompaniment" when it is not grounded in the truth of the Church's teaching--fail to love them enough to tell them the truth. Must like our President, about whom my priest friend notes, "It's sad that no one ever loved him (the President) enough to tell him the truth (about his sacrilegious communions, among other things)." 

And yet, when we think about our gay neighbors, how do we accompany them with the lantern of truth? Being neighbor to them (as we are neighbor to anyone) precludes being high-horse, self-righteous jerks--judging, assuming, condemning, patronizing. In this Pope Francis is correct that the Church should be a "field hospital" for sinners, where we bring those in most need of grace to the font of Love and the source of Grace itself. We don't "make ourselves good" before we approach the Lord, or else no one would be worthy to approach Him, ever. And yet, there is something to be said to having the humility to know when we are invited to the wedding but aren't wearing the appropriate garments to enter (Mt 22:11-12). The story of St. Mary of Egypt is one such example. A public sinner, the lascivious harlot once brazenly tried to enter a local church when she heard a relic of the true Cross was being venerated, and was unable to do so by a mysterious (miraculous) force, which led to her contrite metanoia and a subsequent lifetime of penance.  

It is interesting that in Luke's Gospel, the 'expert in the law' who seeks eternal life and initially answers Jesus' question about the Greatest Commandment correctly is affirmed by Jesus by his answer. Yet the Evangelist describes the man as "seeking to justify himself" when he takes it a step further, asking "Who is my neighbor?" And it is here the Lord tells the parable of the Good Samaritan. The beaten man is passed over by a priest and a Levite, but a Samaritan becomes neighbor to him by caring for him and bringing him back to health and wholeness. "Who was neighbor to him?" the Lord asks. Being neighbor is not about slogans or our personal sense of cleanness, but action.  

I try to stress the point with my kids. Even today as we were driving in the car, and my son was asking about rainbow flags, I reiterated that we are called to "hate the sin, and love the sinner." That same-sex attraction is not part-and-parcel the same as lived homosexuality. That we are called as Christians to love, but not through pat, untruthful slogans ("love is love", etc) as those ideologically opposed to us spout to justify sin, but though preaching the Gospel in truth and charity. The reality of living in a fallen world, under a corrupt government, and among a diversity of people (atheists, Jews, Muslims, pagans, etc) was no strange thing to Jesus during his time. We are to give to Caesar what is Caesar's, and to God what is God's (Mk 12:17), to love our enemies, do good to those who hate you, bless those who curse you, pray for those who mistreat you (Lk 6:27-28). That can take some discernment in how that looks in real time and circumstances. But neighbor we must be.

There is a point when we must turn over to Satan for the destruction of their flesh those so blinded by their corruption for the good of their souls (1 Cor 5:5). But love also does not cross over to the other side of the street. Love is without deceit (Rom 12:9). Love does not judge the heart, which cannot be seen or known by man (Jer 17:9). Love is compelled by Truth. 

Sometimes people self-segregate (Chinatown, the "gayborhood," Crown Heights, Little Italy, etc) to be neighbors among those they share an affinity or culture with, and there's nothing wrong with that. But to the degree that we find ourselves as neighbors among different people who don't share our religious values should not be a reason to move necessarily, but an opportunity to witness in love, integrity, and truth. It is hard work, as all years-long relationships are.  

Here I Am. Send Me.

 

A lot of hand-wringing and angst-tweeting by faithful Catholics with the in-your-face juggernaut of corporate Pride, Inc. as the month of June is peeking its colorful head around the corner. It can often feel like a David and Goliath situation and I don't blame our brethren for staying in their safe spaces and raising cain from a keyboard. Real life is sloppy and often unscripted. A lot of times, even though people won't always admit it to themselves, people are just trying to figure things out as they go.

I spent the afternoon having lunch with a now-friend who is a member of our parish community. I listened intently to him for an hour and a half relay the tales of the pre-indult period spent fighting to sustain the Latin Mass in our diocese, from the early 1960's til not too long ago. He (and his elderly father) were in the trenches: invested in time, money, energy, and spiritual capital to keep the flame of tradition alive when everything around them was working to make sure it was snuffed out for good; the "Latin Mass celebrated in a hotel" were not just fairy tales from a time long long ago. They also endured hostility from all sides, and were not immune to in-fighting as well.  At times it was barely a flicker of light in a vast darkness, and I don't think many people newer to tradition realize what was endured during those early days. 

There were no blue-prints or script for how to go about fighting these battles; but they knew what was at stake and that it was worth fighting for. I admire that, as I admire my now-friend, even if there is a lot I am still working through myself and how little I still know about the history of the Council and the tumultuous wake it left faithful Catholics in. In speaking (or rather listening) to him, it became clear that there is no 'perfect way' of going about these things, and the only ones who get it right are the Monday-morning quarterbacks and critics highlighting the shortcomings after the fact. 

I'm a little bit of a thinker, but it's more outweighed by the impetus to 'do.' I loathe meetings and conferences and talking ad nauseum when it isn't followed by action. When I reflect back on my time spent in the Lion's Den of San Francisco Pride six years ago when I took a red-eye out from the East Coast to SFO to witness to the 1M+ attendees there to the truth of the Gospel, there were many times I thought to myself "What the hell am I doing? I just dropped $700 on a flight to stand in the middle of a mob of gay activists and BDSM hedonists for four hours and hand out rosaries and witness to a people who want to hear nothing of what I have to say, then fly back the same day. And I have an abject fear of crowds to boot! Why, why am I doing this? I don't want to do this!" The answer was pretty straight-forward: The Lord through the Holy Spirit sighed "Who shall I send? Who will go for us?" and before I could think twice or second-guess it, I replied: Here I am. Send me! (Is 6:8)

I didn't know what to expect, or what I was expecting. It seemed like a fool's errand. But as I have lived as a Catholic for the past twenty five years, my inner convictions in one area have stayed firm: if I can bring even one person to Christ and the Gospel and the truth of the Catholic faith, I can die having lived a good and purposeful life. In that massive sea of rainbow fish, there may have been one soul swimming upstream in his mind but not knowing where he was going. It was raining men all day, but I was fishing--not with a massive net on a commercial ship, but with a single rosary line on a clapboard tugboat. Souls are often won one at a time, and even that one soul you may have to fight and plead tooth and nail for. 

So, I went. I remember feeling like a fool, but also at peace for having the assurance of the Holy Spirit that at least in that moment, I was doing what God was calling me to do. Not bitching, not complaining, but taking action. It was a good lesson for me, and one I kept close to my heart years later. 

The funny thing is there was a moment when I felt the Holy Spirit clearly saying GO and I hesitated for an hour or so. We were on vacation at the time, and I remember when I was checking available flights online (an hour later, as I was hemming and hawing and thinking this was crazy), the one I was going to book suddenly jumped up $200 more than the one from an hour before. It was the only flight out of PHL that came back the same day, but it was going to cost me a good bit more. So I booked it. It was a good lesson--when the Lord calls, don't hesitate to answer. 

 I should mention too I work in an extremely LGBTQ friendly-Marxist environment, so it felt especially tenuous and I was fearful of any professional repercussions were I to get caught up in any media presence, etc. A lot of those fears were unfounded. A valuable lesson I learned from a civil-rights activist (which I quoted from in my article Christian Men, Take the Beating) and took to heart was this:

"They made black people experience the worst of the worst, collectively, that white people could dish out, and discover that it wasn’t that bad. They taught black people how to take a beating—from the southern cops, from police dogs, from fire department hoses. They actually coached young people how to crouch, cover their heads with their arms and take the beating. They taught people how to go to jail, which terrified most decent people.  

And you know what? The worst of the worst wasn’t that bad. Once people had been beaten, had dogs sicced on them, had fire hoses sprayed on them, and been thrown in jail, you know what happened?

These magnificent young black people began singing freedom songs in jail. That, my friends, is what ended the terrorism of the south. Confronting your worst fears, living through it, and breaking out in a deep-throated freedom song. The jailers knew they had lost when they beat these young Negroes and the jailed, beaten young people began to sing joyously, first in one town then in another." 

If you know what's right, you don't count the cost. You fight for it. You go where you are called. You obey the Lord. You take the beating. 

I found in a deep-recess of my email my reflections from that day in the belly of the beast. It's interesting to read it now, because I, too, get comfortable in my little Catholic bubble, my safe space. I don't want to look like a fool. I have a lot to lose. But there is a danger, too, in not obeying the Lord, passing by opportunities to witness, ignoring grace or signal graces or gut-feelings, not only speaking when you should hold your tongue but holding your tongue when you should speak, or only speaking when you should be marching, or only marching when you should be locking and loading. 

We are called to labor and work, and we don't need to always do it perfectly, with imaginary Catholic critics in the back of our heads pointing out all the things we are doing wrong. Half the battle is showing up, and when you live by faith you are given your marching orders but not a crystal ball. The Lord gives us what we need to know in that moment, and not before. 

I may be accused of getting things wrong more often than not--but it's harder to accuse those who seek to be faithful and follow and back it up with the imperfect labor of the the second son, the one who says, "I won't go," and then puts his gloves on.  

So, do the work. Don't worry. After all, you are called to be faithful, not successful. 

Sent: Sunday, June 25, 2017 at 08:21:35 PM EDT

Subject:

It has been a marathon day, and I'm pretty spent, but God is so good. A few reflections from SF Pride while it's fresh in my mind:

The first is that everyone was pretty pleasant and free-spirited for the most part. There was not a lot of belligerence, no yelling and minimal confrontation. These are not "bad people," but as i see it, they are lost, hurting people, and also other people just going along with the crowd. There was a lot of drugs in the air, you could smell it everywhere, so maybe people were just happy I don't know. Joseph is very mild mannered and polite and admits that his presence there is a bit of a Johnny Appleseed operation. People didn't know what to make of us. I think they were so pleasant because there were many gay-affirming churches present at booths and I guess they thought we were just members of another one of them, since we were wearing shirts that said, "Jesus loves gay men and women." Which is true, but hard to go into it on the street...that Jesus everyone without exception, loves us so much he wants more for us than what we degrade ourselves to. It was boots-on-the-ground ministry and hard to connect one-on-one, so we gave out rosary bracelets and a card with Joseph's website, I think in the hopes that they will visit the site after the parade at home when things aren't so crazy. Joseph said his site gets about twenty times more traffic in the days after Pride. I remember the first post I read when I found his website was 'Hell is For Real' about his near-death experience. I think that's what struck me about the day, what I made mention to Susan: this parade, this world...it's not reality. It's somebody's reality, but it's not what is really true and really real. It is as if there is a cliff behind the curtain, and nobody really sees it. For four hours I wore a smile (a genuine one, mind you) and said more "God bless you's" than I could count. But on the inside I was breaking up at the offenses against our Lord, the perversion. I offered up the soreness, the sunburn, the hunger and thirst to The Lord in the hopes he would pardon such offenses, an act of reparation that pales with what he endured on the cross for us.

Something interesting note as well was that this really was a quasi-religious event, albeit not in the traditional sense. There was a procession of sorts, down Market Street. There were men in underwear dancing on platforms wearing angel wings. One man was dressed as the pope in mockery, blessing people...another, Our Lady, a kind of blasphemous Madonna. Why would they do this? Like Satanists who do not have Black Masses at a Methodist church, or an Episcopal church, or a Baptist church...they mock the Catholic Church, and desecrate the Eucharist. And it was very similar here. Satan mocks, and he doesn't bother to mock what has no power. But there was also a hunger here, a hunger for God and what is religious and even Catholic...but not on God's terms. It was a perverted substitution. There was also a legitimate sense of a craving for love and affirmation, but somewhere along the line a hurt, a trauma maybe came in and something must have failed along the way. Joseph has written about this. You wouldn't believe how many rosary bracelets we gave away, people wanted them, but in a way in which they did not understand.  There was dancing and laughter and happiness, but it felt like a facade because like Joseph, I know what's on the other side. It is easy, so easy to go along with what is around you, when you are surrounded by it as the majority, and it's even seen as good. But it was like...I felt like I was in an alternative universe where everything was upside down. It didn't shake my faith, but it made me fearful of God's judgment. God has been so patient with us, and I think that time may be running out, and so I pray the rosary every day and if anything flying out here has convinced me to start fasting and offering up sacrifices for conversions. Because there is really nothing we can do on our own, the force against us is to strong. We need God. NEED Him. And prayer is an indispensable weapon in this fight.

One thing that bothered me was seeing children at an event like this. I thought of my own children, and so many other children...toddlers, pre-teens, and adolescents...who are just being born into this confusion and won't know any different.

Joseph made an interesting point too, that there were many corporate sponsors of the event, a lot of backing. It felt like Goliath, honestly...a powerful force to be reckoned with. I felt like a needle in a haystack. I had peace and an assurance of being on the 'wrong side of history,' because it was evident that this was the history of man, not God, for God is not the author of confusion (1 Cor 14:33). It made my heart heavy, but only because as a Christian I was finally entering into the fray; it was new to me, but not new to human history, for the world will hate us because it hated Him first (Jn 15:18), and we'd better get used to it if we want to be Christ's disciple.

My final reflection is that the scene was just saturated with sex. It's like you get numb to it. And that's not how God intended sex to be. There was no modesty at all, and I'm not talking in a prissy kind of way. I wasn't scandalized by it per se, but it's just...if people knew the power and holiness of sex as God intended it. I don't know. It's like a secret, but one that God wants us to know. There was a part of the parade where people would engage in all kinds of perversions, and Joseph said in the past he has gone over and prayed over that area, you know outstretching his hand and all. And people would react violently, the way demonics would react to being exorcised kind of.

I can't help but think the Church has let people down. I'm not talking about the Catechism or the Holy Spirit's assurance that the gates of Hell will not prevail against Her. I'm talking about waffling and wavering in practice. The temptation to be liked is so strong, and I'm sure those in ministry and pastoring have made the mistake of capitulating so as not to be hated. Well guess what? If you're not hated for your faith, it should give you pause. Because we are past time for dialogue and understanding. You'd better pick up sides and get on your knees when you see what we are up against, the way Satan has his way in the world. Now, I'm late to this fight, so maybe I'm just as much to blame. But the narrow path is becoming more clear to me as the only way to be saved. It should have been clear from the start.

I'm tired and sunburned, hungry and thirsty, and I thank God and give him praise for the opportunity to offer it up these pittances and to taste some of the derision and sorrow He experienced as he hung for us, men of the mob who favored Barrabas over the very Son of God. I don't know why he called me fly out here from Philadelphia. I hope maybe we touched one person. God bless Joseph for his endurance and compassion and commitment to Truth in a way that is not always understood or accepted as normative, and to people who most of us would not minister to. What a blessing to go into the trenches with him, even if just for a day. And thank you thank you thank for all your prayers, they sustained us for sure.

It's Okay To Hug Your Son

 

I once had a conversation with a man with same-sex attraction (SSA) about his childhood. His parents were immigrants from Sicily; his father had a vineyard and worked hard. Like most men of his generation, he was the strong, silent type. He loved his son, but never showed it physically through any kind of affection or affirmation: no, "I love you's" or "I'm proud of you." It was clear as this man recounted his childhood that he has a deep and unfulfilled yearning for those things which were never received. 

It's not appropriate to put this man's decision to dive headlong into the gay lifestyle on the shoulder of his father, and there were probably other factors at play; but it seemed clear that the things he most wanted from his father that went unrequited he sought in the arms of male strangers in bathhouses and BDSM lairs. 

I grew up in an affectionate household. We're not Italian, so it wasn't loud and expressive necessarily; but my father was not stingy with displays of affection for my brothers and I. Hugs and talking (not just about the weather and external things) were common. My grandfather died when my dad was just getting ready to graduate college, so I think that left a deep and painful hole for him. My grandmother struggled with depression and my father was an only child. When my dad had his own children, it was clear we were the most important thing in his life, and he let us know it.

The "Silent Generation" had their own post-war ghosts and the trauma of the Great Depression to deal with; we all do the best we can under the circumstances. But we live in different times now. The Millennial dads I see seem to all pride themselves on taking an active role in their kid's lives. They unabashedly change diapers and help with housework (typically), and take their kids to playgrounds and such. They are "active dads." 

As a Gen X'er, I tend towards these things as well, but am a little more hands-off with my kids, though. One thing I do make a habit of, though, is hugging my sons (and daughter, of course) and telling them I love them, often. Maybe it's because of how I was raised by my dad, but it seems healthy to do so. I probably am lacking in the discipline and follow-through department (though we haven't spared the wooden spoon when they were younger), but they seem to be pretty well-adjusted. 

One of the things I hate most about the gay-everything lifestyle it has completely quashed the potential for healthy heterosexual fraternal displays of affection between men. Homosexuality makes a sexualized idol of the male ethos, a thing of fantasy and an object of desire. It makes it harder for heterosexual men to have a deep and abiding relationship with one another that isn't tainted with that gay specter that has made it's way like MSG into everything. 

But anyway, back to the title of this post. Yes, it's okay to hug your son. It's good and healthy. It's good to tell them you love them and are proud of them, even if you are the strong silent type; in fact, such words probably carry more weight if you are, since you might use your words sparingly and the ones you do use mean something, Probably one of the most painful things about losing a parent or a child is that you can't physically experience them anymore--the hug you might long for simply isn't possible anymore, and that can be felt acutely. 

So while your kids are still young (or even if they're older), go ahead and hug them. Tell them you love them. You never know how long they'll be around to experience it.

'Tames' In Clerical Life

A few years ago I stumbled across an article by way of an acquaintance that was published in Latin Mass magazine in 1996 (and reprinted in The Traditionalist in 2016). The author is an American cleric, published as Anonymous. I could not find the article anywhere online, and had it sent to me via scanned pdf, so I had until now been unable to post it due to formatting. 

The reason I am took the time to transcribe it (and cramped up my hands doing so) was that when I read it, a lightbulb went off; it offers a incisive psychological insight into certain, we’ll say, priest-personalities (I will leave it to your deductive reasoning to ascertain who might fit the description). I have abridged portions for the sake of brevity. 

Read it carefully, and feel free comment.

-------

TAMES IN CLERICAL LIFE

The profound problems that beset priestly life today have been discussed for the most part by means of categories that reflect the preoccupations of our time and the way in which the problems have come to our attention. Because sexual scandal has figured so largely in the contemporary crisis, the now conventional division of male populations into gays and straights has, not surprisingly, played a large part in these discussions. But the reality is considerably more complex than the standard vocabulary of “sexual orientation” would suggest. Though it seems contradictory, even the battles over issues of sexuality among priests may have their basis in personal factors in which sexuality itself plays a relatively minor role.

What is here proposed is that the contemporary priesthood exhibits a disturbingly high number of one particular sociopsychological type, to be designated by the neologism “tame,” and what follows is a first attempt to sketch a profile of the tame priest. The author is innocent of training in psychology and the data have been neither collected nor analyzed systematically; they are simply the result of twenty years of observing the subject at close hand. The description is addressed to the experience of those familiar with the current condition of clerical life, and to the common-sense intuitions of others. 

Perhaps the most universal and distinctive characteristic of tames is their paradoxical combination of great sociability with an incapacity for true friendship. Tames are great mixers at parties and all social functions, and they have the ability to join in almost all conversations and project friendly interest. In the jargon of the MBA they are abundantly endowed with “people skills.” Yet their friendliness itself makes them unfit for friendship. They exist on the level of superficial companionability, and lack the depth of personality and character necessary to make and keep a friend. Whereas most men in their late twenties unconsciously begin to narrow the number and deepen the quality of their friendships, tames preserve a kind of adolescent gregariousness and live on in the world of the fraternity or freshman dorm. While they tend to be cheerful on social occasions, the mask occasionally slips to show a characteristic expression of apprehension, hunger, and puzzlement. Strong friendships draw one apart from the crowd, and being out of the mainstream and on the margins is something a tame cannot tolerate. Tames prefer instead to exercise their talent in the public arena, where they can flit from buddy to buddy, chatting, telling jokes, fetching drinks and collecting from as many as possible external tokens of friendship. 

Being tame is not itself a sexual orientation, yet within the clerical life tames tend to behave politically, socially, and morally in a manner as uniform as that of gays. It is part of the syndrome that tames are not conscious of themselves as tames: there is no question of their forming a caucus as do gays. Yet because their responses to concrete crises and problems are so uniform tame comprise a black de factor, and have an influence in the Church disproportionate ot their number. In fact the defeats and frustrations visited upon straights in the clergy are primarily due not to gays but to tames. 

It is usually very hard to know whether a particular tame priest is heterosexual or homosexual. THey are seldom obviously effeminate; most laymen will assume, in default of indications ot the contrary, that they are straight. But they wear their masculinity as a businessman might wear a baseball cap at a picnic; his support for his team is not necessarily insincere, but you get the feeling that it is displayed as an emblem of good will--”I’m an easy-to-get-along-with kind of guy”--and not as a constitutive part of who he is. Tames never seem entirely at peace with this aspect of their lives and, in situations where gays and straights are clearly at dds, live in a kind of emotional No Man’s Land. This is not because tames waver between competing appetites like bisexuals, but because any definitive involvement risks isolation, and isolation terrifies them.

One external indication of the tame seminarian or priest is the changes of dress to which he will subject himself. Sometimes he will change clothes four of five times a day, depending on the activity planned and (more importantly) on who will be in the company. Tames will own the full array of clerical gear, but are also outfitted as laymen for a wide range of formal and informal occasions. Tames live in the present, in the “now”; they are extraordinarily sensitive to the people in the same room with them, they intuitively grasp the balance of power, the divisions of opinion, the dominant party or ethos. Their overadaptability in clothing is symptomatic of their overadaptability generally. Tames are capable of astonishing changes of opinion depending on the composition of their company-at-the-moment; it is not quite accurate ot say they are chameleons, because in a sharply contrasted environment they will not adapt themselves to the majority if the minority clearly has greater power and prestige. Always and everywhere, tames will go with a winner.

…

Tame priests are without exception worldly. Their worldliness, however, is always a nervous worldliness, and they never allow themselves to wallow in pleasures as do gays or simple hedonists. Tames dress better, dine better, drink better Scotch, take more expensive vacations, and generally entertain themselves at a higher level than their fellows, but their enjoyment is poisoned by constant reference to what others may think of their acquisitions and recreations. They are always on guard against equal and opposite dangers: censure for unbecoming profligacy or for unbecoming rusticity. Even at his favorite restaurant a tame is seldom at ease, not knowing who may walk through the door and see him: is the wine too common or too extravagant, his dress too clerical or too casual?

A ‘giveaway’ characteristic of a tame is panic. Tames live in terror of being caught out--of being discovered on the wrong side of an argument, backing the wrong horse, having committed too deeply to reverse course with grace. As a consequence a tame will often register a momentary flash of panic when something occurs to make him unsure of his surroundings--for example, the entrance of an unknown party into a conversation in which he has prematurely taken a stand, or the friendly approach of a pariah at a public function. Tames see failure and unpopularity as contagious, and will oil their way out of contact with either as soon as possible. In their dealings with equals tames often make them feel used--not because they deliberately and cynically set out to manipulate, but because they are virtually incapable of exchanging a human (or supernatural) good with another person.

Tames have a morbid lack of curiosity about the first principles of things: metaphysics, the grounding of moral arguments, dogma. This does not come from any lack of brainpower but is simply a reflex of their concern for the here-and-now. The functional/pragmatic/political is supreme. A tame may hold an office that obliges him to defend some moral or dogmatic principal as inviolable and he may do it competently, but always with an eye to the occasion; even defense of principle, for a tame, is itself not principled but simply a means to realize some practical good. In general, tames have a distaste for confrontation and avoid situations where they are forced into conflict. In most controversial situations tames hedge their bets by showing mild support for both sides as long as possible, only declaring allegiance when it is clearly to their advantage to do so. Tames are capable of professing directly contrary opinions within a matter of hours, and frequently shock others by their apostasies. Because they adapt so spontaneously to the environment they are sometimes unconscious of inconsistency and puzzled when it is brought to their attention. Tames are rarely capable of loyalty in the strict sense, but only the kind of loyalty salesmen show to their products of lawyers to their clients-of-the-moment; they are Company Men, spirited defenders of the institution in which they wish to advance.

Tames tend to be dutiful in the same way that they are loyal. They are “responsible citizens” in the places where they live and work. They are team players and willing to work long hours; they are eager not to give others cause for complaint, and they tend to make themselves--if not indispensable--important worker bees in the machinery of the chancery or seminary or office of religious education. In addition to the energy that comes with ambition, tames have the sort of managerial affability that attracts favorable notice in any bureaucracy. They are relatively unlikely to leave the priesthood; thus, if tames make up only 30% of a seminary entrance, they may well compose 70% of those still working as priests ten years after ordination.

…

In the contemporary Church tames serve the agenda or gays in the long run, even though they sometimes find themselves forced to take a contrary stance. Tames are extremely susceptible to emotional blackmail of all kinds, and gays are adept at putting a thumb on the emotional windpipe of weak men in order to manipulate them. Of course this takes many forms; one of the simplest (playing on the tame avoidance of conflict) is to engender a stormy atmosphere in a room in which the gay agenda is under discussion, with the threat of outrage and vengeance if the correct conclusion is not reached. Tames will often sell the pass to avoid the risk of having ot fight for it before a wider public.

Gays have also pulled tames into their service by the gambit of discussing chastity and sexuality in terms of “affective maturity.” This is how it works: first, one wins the admission that “affective maturity” is the principal gauge of authentic celibacy. Once this is conceded, it is stipulated that the condition sine qua non of affective maturity is “comfort” with one’s own sexuality (mature men are comfortable being themselves), and this in turn is seen to preclude disgust or moral censure directed at a “sexuality other than one’s own.” ...The paradoxical truth is that tames are more effective agents of the gay agenda than gays themselves; on one hand they are more presentable advocates (uneffeminate, good at reassurance, good at string-pulling), on the other they are motivated by a terror of the either and of being thrust to the margins of the institution--a terror stronger even than the hopes and anxieties of gays. The tame commitment to be noncommittal is the engine that powers progress in the Church.

…

The public arena brings forth from tames another side of their personality. Tames lack the resources of character to remain indifferent to hostile news media; moreover, the techniques of evasion and equivocation refined earlier in their lives are largely useless as bishops, when the media (and general public) reflexively attribute to them as their own the positions of the Catholic Church. A few tames are able to charm the media into a kind of truce: good ink in exchange for a blind eye toward heterodoxy; several others can be seen to engage in a disastrous cycle of appeasement and recrimination. They sue for the favor of the press by taking pains to portray themselves as moderates and by lashing out at more aggressive conservatives, causing dismay to many of the Church’s friends and giving delight to her enemies. 

…

From this provisional attempt at description it will be clear that the distinguishing characters of tames are for the most part destructive of what they Church needs to accomplish through her clergy. The U.S. Church may be especially instructive in this regard. Seventeen years into the pontificate of a “conservative” Pope, concerned to appoint dutiful and orthodox bishops, the problems of clerical homosexuality and pedophilia, doctrinal dissent of the professorate, liturgical abuses, acceptance of contraception, etc. have improved in no respect and worsened in many. It is reasonable to assume that there is not a single cause for this strange paralysis, but it is worth asking whether the prevalence of the tame priest does not go far to explain the combination of outward managerial competence and personal moral cowardice that has examined these problems so often, so “professionally,” and never lit on the obvious steps toward their solution.

The Glass Pedestal

In the 25th chapter of the Imitation of Christ, Thomas a Kempis recounts the wretched state of the lukewarm religious constrained, as it were, by his vows on one side, and his lack of freedom in virtue on the other:

"A fervent religious accepts all the things that are commanded him and does them well, but a negligent and lukewarm religious has trial upon trial, and suffers anguish from every side because he has no consolation within and is forbidden to seek it from without. The religious who does not live up to his rule exposes himself to dreadful ruin, and he who wishes to be more free and untrammeled will always be in trouble, for something or other will always displease him."

"No consolation within and being forbidden to seek it from without"...Though A Kempis wrote this in reference to monks and nuns, his observation has always struck me as relevant to the particular cross of men and women who, by the grace of God, come into the Catholic Church and leave their "gay" identity at the entrance. Those who wish to be "born again" in the waters of baptism and live by a different compulsion--the desire to do God's will (Ps 40:8).

Of course there are those who come into the Church who do not leave the old man behind (Eph 4:22), but seek to baptize their former way of life. Those who abet such distortions of the Cross and true religion with various "gay-affirming" ministries (New Ways, Dignity, etc) do these men and women no favors. In their false compassion, they advise and encourage with a well-intentioned but misguided love devoid of truth (Eph 4:15). They may convince themselves that there is no reason to "forbid to seek consolation" and they may settle their inner cognitive dissonance by calling what is evil good (Is 5:20), but they continue to live in darkness because their life is a lie--the truth is not in them (1 Jn 2:4).

And yet there are those also who do "suffer anguish from all sides" within the Church because they do take to heart that they are "forbidden to seek consolation" in the arms of another man or woman but do not have the consolation within to sustain them in this deprivation of the senses. They seek the "glorious rest" across the Jordan promised to St. Mary of Egypt, but are not mortified to the degree that they find it within themselves. 

Can the Church help these men and women, those who have left the poisoned wells of their former disordered lifestyles in search of the Bread of Life, which is true food, true drink (Jn 6:55)? Yes, She can--by providing them with the keys to unlock their cells. In this way, there is no particularity that distinguishes these men and women from their "straight" brothers and sisters--we are all called to die to ourselves, to pick up our cross, and follow Christ (Mt 16:24). To deny ungodliness and worldly lusts and live soberly, righteously, and godly, in this present world (Titus 2:12). To regard our bodies as temples of the Holy Spirit (1 Cor 6:19). 

Because of the inherent dignity of each man and woman, the Church does not reduce us to our particular sins and disorders. We are ALL sinners in need of grace. And yet, what kind of effective "ministry" would help a man or woman who has left the gay lifestyle find their new identity in Christ and achieve wholeness of being? Courage (and EnCourage) is one such formal apostolate (the only one I know of) which promotes chastity while supporting those with same-sex attraction (SSA) be faithful to Church teaching and achieve holiness. 

I've often thought my role as a Catholic man seeking to love not just some, but ALL people, needs to include some sort of "ally" role. Not in the LGBTQA "ALLY" sense (which is a political role and one antithetical to truth, goodness, and freedom as we understand it as Christians), but in the way St. Paul says, "I have become all things to all men so that by all possible means I may save some" (1 Cor 9:22). For me personally, that included attending a Courage conference to learn more about SSA and meet Catholic brothers and sisters living with SSA. It also led me to fly cross-country to do some unorthodox "boots on the ground" Catholic evangelization in a Silas-type role at the largest gay-pride festival in the country. "You will know the Truth, and the Truth will set you free" (Jn 8:32). 

But I have found just as it is difficult for even a righteous man to be saved (1 Pt 4:18), the healing which must take place in a formerly-gay man or woman is substantive, because of the depths of the wound which may have caused the condition in the first place. And there are things one must watch out for as well; whereas we all to a degree struggle with issues like narcissism, self-absorption, and vanity, these qualities can be amplified in SSA individuals because of the nature and character of the particular wound which gave rise to the disorder. Dr. Joseph Nicholosi, whose recent death was met with jeers and celebration by those in the LGBTQ community for his work in reparative therapy for men and women dealing with unwanted same-sex attraction, wrote about the vulnerability of those who return to their former (gay) lifestyle:

"For many SSA men, the deepest problem they must wrestle with is not sexual identity, but core identity. The original source of this struggle is not the more obvious problem in bonding with the father, but a breach in the primary attachment with the mother. For these men, their deepest-level problem is not about sexual orientation but about something more fundamental: identity, attachment and belonging. Gender-identity conflict and attraction to men are only surface symptoms. This is the problem that the media chooses to ignore, and which both sides of the debate fail to acknowledge.

As such a man’s identity evolves, there will be an excited “discovery of my True Self,” followed by disillusionment, then a new “real discovery of my True Self,” and then again, disillusionment. At the base of this desperate search is the anguished grasp for a stable personhood, a profound emptiness and beneath it, a self-hatred. That self-hatred is often expressed in deconstructing and condemning every previous aspect of the person’s own former life, including the influence of persons most near to him.

Radical shifts in “the discovery of my True Self” are associated, in some such people, with Borderline personality disorder, narcissistic personality disorder and gender confusion, since gender identity is built upon an earlier foundation of self-identity. A fragile self-identity makes the later structuring of gender identity particularly perilous.

The restlessness such people feel is shown in a chronic state of dissatisfaction; in the narcissistic expectation that “if others really love me, they must take this pain away from me; and they [or what they stand for] are responsible for my pain.” When others fail to do this, there is a deep sense of betrayal; betrayal that these individuals failed to take away the core emptiness, and so the person in conflict may become angry at the people that participated in his former life. The pain of an identity search and the need for escape from the ordinariness of life can be alleviated for awhile by adulation. The narcissistic inflation found in celebrity, for example, can be an intoxicating balm.

This periodic disillusionment leaves behind devastated individuals who have invested deeply in the person.

The gay community wants to frame changes from ex-gay back to gay as proof that people who experience SSA were simply designed and created for homosexuality, but we would be deceived if we believed this simplistic paradigm.

Where core identity is the foundational problem, we suspect a breach in the primary attachment with the mother. From my clinical experience, there is a particular kind of client who, although he is deeply dissatisfied with gay life and does succeed in developing good heterosexual functioning, will, over time, struggle to muster the self-discipline and maturity to put in a hard day’s work, come home to wife and family, help the children with the homework, have dinner and settle down to a good conversation with his wife, and go to bed. Such a life of day-to-day investment in one’s loved ones seems too confining: it is boring, lusterless, unexciting, “just not enough.” Underneath the boredom and restlessness remains this deep, chronic dissatisfaction.

It’s not just about needing to find a partner of a different gender; it’s about getting attention, flirting, being made to feel special, distracting oneself from one’s chronic dissatisfaction with life through parties and other high-animation activities, such as the gay community offers on its well-known, drug-saturated party circuits. I suspect that “excitement” was what John was looking for when he went to the gay bar in Washington, D.C. many years ago, just after speaking at a Love Won Out conference, when he created a public-relations crisis while working for the ministry Focus on the Family. I don’t believe John was there looking for sex. I suspect he was bored with the Christian community and its expectations – I believe he sought diversion, flirtation, adventure, and – a favored word in gay politics- “transgression.” Of course, every shift the person makes from “I thought I was such-and-such…” to “Now I really know who I am,” will always have its cheering admirers." 

Getting attention. Wanting to be special. Feeling confined. Deep, chronic dissatisfaction. In my experience, just because one takes on a new identity as a Catholic, it does not all of a sudden heal one "at the root" from all disorders and attachments. This goes back to the words of A Kempis, who laments this pitiable state of being for the lukewarm religious. In this instance, for the formerly gay-man, he cannot indulge himself as he used to, and so is confined by the law of God. And yet, because he has not learned to heal in the way he needs to be made whole psychologically, emotionally, and spiritually, he "has no consolation within" either. 

When Christ was made to carry his cross, I always found it interesting that in salvation history Simon was written into the story as an instrumental figure in ensuring Jesus made it to Calvary. We are often called to carry our own cross most of the way, but when we falter, we benefit from the help of other Christians who lift us up. 

For Christian men and women with SSA, their cross can feel like a solitary one, one that precludes any such Simons, were someone see them "as they really are." As a heterosexual man, I have tried to be a "helper" to those I know who experience SSA while living as faithful Catholics; not in any formal type of "ministry" which can often reduce people to their particular sexual orientation, but simply as a man and a friend to a fellow brother in Christ. Dr. Nicolosi writes of the latent trauma in need of healing in the gay man or woman in the following way:

"Homosexuality is, in my view, primarily a symptom of gender trauma. Although some people may have been born with biological conditions (prenatal hormonal influences, inborn emotional sensitivity) that make them especially vulnerable to such trauma, what distinguishes the male homosexual condition is that there was an interruption in the normal masculine identification process.

Homosexual behavior is a symptomatic attempt to “repair” the original wound that left the boy alienated from the innate masculinity that he has failed to claim. This differentiates it from heterosexuality, which arises naturally from undisturbed gender-identity development.

The basic conflict in most homosexuality is this: the boy—usually a sensitive child, more prone than average to emotional injury—desires love and acceptance from the same-sex parent, yet feels frustration and rage against him because the parent is experienced by this particular child as unresponsive or abusive. (Note that this child may have siblings who experienced the same parent differently).

Homosexual activity will be the erotic reenactment of this love-hate relationship. Like all the “perversions”—and I use that term not to be unkind, but in the sense that homosexual development “perverts,” or “turns a person away from,” the biologically appropriate object of erotic attachment—same-sex eroticism contains an intrinsic dimension of hostility."

The gay "issue" (and, most recently, the "trans" issue) at the forefront of social, cultural, and political today is a juggernaut that can often set Christians on the defensive.  While it is true the LGBTQ movement is an "enemy" to the Faith as a body politic, it's individual members are brothers and sisters who are not yet redeemed but are not beyond such grace. 

I think this is something a formerly gay friend of mine did well--seeing the trannies, the BDSMs, the "freaks" of the streets of San Francisco--as children of God worthy of love and not outside the possibility for redemption. He was a kind of formerly gay Paul of Tarsus in the Catholic underground, and I felt called to be his Silas. It was a queer type of ministry (no pun intended), certainly unorthodox, and not that effective ultimately. Like everyone today, I think this man (and myself, by extension) were simply trying to figure things out as we went along, and address a need that the Church did not seem to be able to as a top-heavy bureaucracy without much integrity or credibility on the issue anyway.

Unfortunately, that last point seems to have driven this man from the Church, as if he is, as A Kempis describes, "suffering anguish from every side because he has no consolation within and is forbidden to seek it from without." Whether it is unhealed trauma, a lack of accountability, an unaddressed narcissism, or a kind of cognitive dissonance he can no longer reconcile internally, I do not know. He has since turned to Russian Orthodoxy, I believe, as perhaps a way to remain on the path of hopeful salvation. He would not be the first, and certainly not the last. We are living through an age of apostasy as Our Lady predicted, after all. 

One thing I resented of the Catholic peanut gallery, the Church fanclub who put this man on a glass pedestal during those years of his high-profile social media life was the way they canonized him in this life. "Oh, you are a saint!" "He is a hero, a saint!" This is befitting of no one in this earthly life, and we should be ashamed to burden people with such adulations, opening them up to temptations to pride and vainglory. There is no one who is good, no not one. (Rom 3:10). 

Looking back in hindsight, I think this stemmed from a misplaced hope--hope for those mothers with a gay son, a lesbian daughter who had left the Church; for heterosexual Catholics who didn't understand what it meant to be gay and had so few people to look up to who seemed to be both (formerly) gay and orthodox, challenging the bishops and being "in the trenches". We all wanted this type of ministry to be effective, because the odds were so against us all.  I also think, in hindsight, that this friend of mine was not yet healed "in the root" and the restless desire to do perhaps prematurely took people's hopes and trusts and ultimately betrayed them. Of course, he is answerable to no one but God alone, who will judge him. And really, the blame lies with us for such premature canonizations and should be a warning to us all. "Take heed, lest you fall." (1 Cor 10:12)

We are all working out our salvation, and we should be doing so not in confident self-assuredness, but with fear and trembling (Phil 2:12). The celebrity priests, the overconfident religious pundits, the lay Catholic influencers and talking heads--no one will escape the judgement. Maybe we can all just have the humility to admit we are doing the best we can to figure it out as we go what we don't always understand with one hundred percent surety. Glass pedestals have a tendency to break rather easily.

I held on to the shirt in the photo below for a number of years. It was a reminder of that time when I didn't think, but simply obeyed, the directives of the Holy Spirit to fly out to Pride and "do the work" in the vineyard. I did my part, and I also paid the price for this obedience. But great grace came with it too. I always thought some day it may be a relic of sorts, not because of me, but because of the one who gifted me with it. I admitted recently, though, that I may have been mislead. That is not the fault of my friend, but mine. 

And maybe it touched a nerve--maybe my friend's leaving the faith was simply a mirror held up to my face; what is to keep me from the same fate? Perhaps I just haven't gotten close enough, dug deep enough, and am living in a kind of blissful ignorance of the Stockholm-nature of the Catholic Church, which is nothing but rot, hypocrisy, and deceptiveness. It can be a very hard time to hold the line today. Apostasy and betrayal tends to touch a nerve.  

I laid the shirt in the garbage a couple weeks ago, and took out the trash, to put it to rest. I still pray for my friend--he has, admittedly, been through a litany of traumas. But if anything, through this and many other past incidents of feeling let down by others, I have come closer to learning the meaning of the scripture, 

"Put not your trust in princes, nor in the son of man, in whom there is no help. His breath goeth forth, he returneth to his earth; in that very day his thoughts perish. Happy is he that hath the God of Jacob for his help, whose hope is in the Lord his God." (Ps 146:3-5)

 

To Have Become Like Orphans

I've been getting texts and Rorate-Caeli links about the Holy Father's flowery letter to Fr. James Martin congratulating him on his work and apostolate. You can read it for yourself if you like here. 

Remember that infamous clip of the liberal head explosion making the rounds on the internet after the 2016 election, of the woman (?) screaming into the universe? Does this letter have the same head-exploding potential for conservative/orthodox Catholics? Sure. Heads will explode. We are hungry for scandal. We're no better than liberals when we lap it up like dogs.

My response by text to my priest friend and others was simple:

"All I feel is peace, because the fissures are so clearly drawn, and we have no excuse not for girding our loins for what's coming. 

Just because your father is passed out at the wheel doesn't mean there's not work that needs to be done and siblings who need to be fed and cared for."

 

If the "smoke of Satan has entered the Church" as Pope Paul VI said, is it any wonder the Barque is as turned upside down as the world outside? Where the Pope himself affirms the construction taking place at Sodom and Gomorrah just prior to it's razing? It is enough to baffle the mind and razzle the most fervent souls. 

For those who let it.

I am not an ostrich type, with his head in the sand. I know what's going on in the Church. If I am a fool, let me be a fool for Christ, who is married to His Bride. But are we fools for staying on the ship? You almost need a kind of 'holy ignorance' today, which seems like a grace that allows the follower of Christ to continue to advocate and hold fast to the most dysfunctional, corrupt, and perverted institution in existence today. 

Of course, if that was all She was, I'd have jumped ship when I saw the smoke. But we're in it for the long game, even through the birth pangs and agony of foolishness. 

When your wife is in labor and you are by her side, what do you do? "Look at me," you say. "Focus on me. Breath. This will not be forever." As she tightens her grip on your hand to the point of cutting off the circulation, you tell her "Look at me. Focus on me" to keep her from entering into the pain, which is so blindingly acute that it seems an agony that will never end. And then she gives birth, as scripture says, and the pain is forgotten and her joy complete.

I read the letter from the Holy Father. If this were five or more years ago, I might have thrown up in my mouth a little, might have suffered a kind of spiritual aneurysm. But this pontificate has been a grace and blessing in that all the stops have been pulled out. During my time trying to extricate myself from sin and the influence of my secular friends, I felt like I had both feet on opposing fence posts which were being spread apart, and felt the acuteness of the the pain as I continued to try to straddle. When I stepped off, and left it all behind, I had peace, and could get to work; at least the suffering that came with choosing had merit, not for naught, "suffering for doing good," as St. Peter says (1 Peter 3:17). I have taken to heart that we "should not be surprised when the fiery trial comes upon us" (1 Peter 4:12). Nothing surprises me anymore. Nothing. 

Does that mean there are not siblings to be fed, like I said? Work to be done? Souls heading to perdition to fast for? Orphans that need to be cared for? It has gotten to the point that we are being gaslit so badly that we just have to tell one another, "don't listen to him. He's not in his right mind" and do the best we can as teenage parents in the faith. God gives us the grace. Passed out at the wheel or not, abusive or not, we cannot not call him father. We may be adopted by another family (Orthodox? High Church Anglican?), offered a more comfortable environment in the suburbs away from the abuse, but we know our history. Can we leave? Sure. Can we divorce our spouses? Sure. Can we give back our birthright? That may be another story altogether. 

It is interesting that all of the above verses from scripture that seem so apt in this trial to hold on come from the first Bishop of Rome himself in his epistles. I'll end with one as well. Remember--people still need to be fed. The house still needs to be cleaned and maintained. The bills still need to be paid. We as brothers and sisters of the Church are like the Lost Boys of Sudan. But it is those same fools who have chosen their Master to follow--the man with no guile on his lips, who always told the truth and did not relish in falsehoods, who loved and died and rose and did not leave us orphans--who will inherit the kingdom. 

How clear are the lines drawn in the sand. What a grace we have for this breaking open of falsehood in full view for those with eyes to see to view. What delineation between angels and demons who used to resign themselves to the shadows. What a sifting taking place, wheat from chaff, and we are spared no grace to get off the fence and double down to work out our salvation in fear and trembling, and great confidence. The perversions of this world are so apparent, so in your face, that we almost have to shield our eyes as one would look away from the sun lest we burn out our eyes. But as the Master says, "Fear not! I have overcome the world!" I have such great hope. Such great hope.

"But there were also false prophets among the people, just as there will be false teachers among you. They will secretly introduce destructive heresies, even denying the sovereign Lord who bought them—bringing swift destruction on themselves. Many will follow their depraved conduct and will bring the way of truth into disrepute. In their greed these teachers will exploit you with fabricated stories. Their condemnation has long been hanging over them, and their destruction has not been sleeping.

For if God did not spare angels when they sinned, but sent them to hell, putting them in chains of darkness to be held for judgment; if he did not spare the ancient world when he brought the flood on its ungodly people, but protected Noah, a preacher of righteousness, and seven others; if he condemned the cities of Sodom and Gomorrah by burning them to ashes, and made them an example of what is going to happen to the ungodly; and if he rescued Lot, a righteous man, who was distressed by the depraved conduct of the lawless (for that righteous man, living among them day after day, was tormented in his righteous soul by the lawless deeds he saw and heard)— if this is so, then the Lord knows how to rescue the godly from trials and to hold the unrighteous for punishment on the day of judgment. This is especially true of those who follow the corrupt desire of the flesh and despise authority.

Bold and arrogant, they are not afraid to heap abuse on celestial beings; yet even angels, although they are stronger and more powerful, do not heap abuse on such beings when bringing judgment on them from the Lord. But these people blaspheme in matters they do not understand. They are like unreasoning animals, creatures of instinct, born only to be caught and destroyed, and like animals they too will perish.

They will be paid back with harm for the harm they have done. Their idea of pleasure is to carouse in broad daylight. They are blots and blemishes, reveling in their pleasures while they feast with you. With eyes full of adultery, they never stop sinning; they seduce the unstable; they are experts in greed—an accursed brood! They have left the straight way and wandered off to follow the way of Balaam son of Bezer, who loved the wages of wickedness. But he was rebuked for his wrongdoing by a donkey—an animal without speech—who spoke with a human voice and restrained the prophet’s madness.

These people are springs without water and mists driven by a storm. Blackest darkness is reserved for them. For they mouth empty, boastful words and, by appealing to the lustful desires of the flesh, they entice people who are just escaping from those who live in error. They promise them freedom, while they themselves are slaves of depravity—for “people are slaves to whatever has mastered them.” If they have escaped the corruption of the world by knowing our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ and are again entangled in it and are overcome, they are worse off at the end than they were at the beginning. It would have been better for them not to have known the way of righteousness, than to have known it and then to turn their backs on the sacred command that was passed on to them. Of them the proverbs are true: “A dog returns to its vomit,” and, “A sow that is washed returns to her wallowing in the mud.” (2 Peter 2:1-22)