During the first session of the Synod on Synodality, which took place last October, I was not surprised that many synod delegates were opposed to what you could loosely term “L.G.B.T.Q. issues.” What did surprise me was the intensity of the opposition, the language used and the anger the topic provoked for some delegates. Perhaps because of my ministry with L.G.B.T.Q. people, many delegates shared with me their comments, questions and challenges. It was an honor to listen, to reflect and to respond. Now, in another week, we will return for the second session and final of the synod, which begins on Oct. 2.
Without breaking any confidences, I can say that some delegates made interventions at the roundtable discussions and on the synod floor last year that went beyond any opposition I had heard from church leaders before. It’s one thing to know that these arguments are part of the discourse in the universal church; it’s another to hear them in person, sometimes face to face. The words “disgusting,” “repulsive,” “unnatural” and “sick” were used regularly in conversations with me.
By the same token, many delegates from around the world expressed a strong desire to reach out to the L.G.B.T.Q. community, a pastoral need mentioned twice in the first Working Document or Instrumentum Laboris. (This year’s Instrumentum Laboris focuses less on specific issues like women’s roles in the church and L.G.B.T.Q. Catholics, and more on the concept of “synodality” in general. )
Last year I sought out delegates to understand their opposition. Synodality is based on listening, so how could I be a good delegate—let alone good Christian—if I didn’t listen to people who disagreed with me? After one delegate at a plenary session called homosexuality a “Western ideology,” one cardinal asked me, “Would you like me to help arrange a meeting with him?” This led to open and honest conversation, which prompted me to seek out other delegates, which in turn helped me to appreciate their concerns. I tried to apply St. Ignatius Loyola’s “Presupposition,” in which one tries to give another person the benefit of the doubt in order to understand their perspective.
As the synod drew to a close, another synod participant suggested to me, “In the coming year you should make it a goal to try to build bridges by meeting with delegates and other Catholic leaders who disagree with you, to hear their concerns and dialogue.” I thought that was an excellent idea. Over the past year, then, I’ve spoken with cardinals, bishops, priests, religious men and women, and Catholic lay leaders from around the world, with special attention to Eastern Europe and Sub-Saharan Africa, where much of the opposition seemed to come from, about these topics.
What follows is what I heard and my responses. For shorthand, I’ll use “L.G.B.T.Q. issues” to represent a constellation of topics, ranging from pastoral approaches (extending welcome to L.G.B.T.Q. Catholics) to more overtly theological issues (church teaching on homosexuality) to more recent developments (like the approval of the blessing of same-sex couples in certain circumstances). I will keep these responses anonymous. The opposition can be summarized as follows, in order of how often these sometimes overlapping stances were mentioned: 1) L.G.B.T.Q. issues are an ideology; 2) It is a form of neo-colonialism; 3) It is a Western preoccupation; 4) Supporting L.G.B.T.Q. people means opposing church teaching and 5) L.G.B.T.Q. people hate the church.
1. L.G.B.T.Q. issues are an ideology. The most common response to any mention of L.G.B.T.Q. people is that issues surrounding this topic are merely an “ideology,” that is, a faulty belief system imposed on unsuspecting people, often youth. This helps to explain the reluctance of many delegates even to use the term “L.G.B.T.Q.,” which was seen not as an identification of a community but as a reflection of a dangerous ideology.
This argument is a firmly held belief among many church leaders and synod delegates. Pope Francis himself has gone on record as opposing “gender ideology.” Now, while that term focuses mainly on transgender people, for many Catholics it is used to oppose all L.G.B.T.Q. issues. Some delegates felt that any discussion of these issues—even the lived experiences of L.G.B.T.Q. Catholics—was kowtowing to a dangerous ideology. Likewise, a few delegates said that L.G.B.T.Q. people either did not exist or were merely assenting to an ideology (which turns them gay). One African archbishop said to me, “The reason that people are gay in my country is that Americans pay them to become gay.”
I have no idea if Americans travel to other countries to pay people to “become gay.” But one response to concerns over “ideology” is to remind people that while there are many ideas, positions and thoughts about L.G.B.T.Q. issues today, the vast majority of gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender people will tell you that they are not responding to ideas, but to their own experiences.
Certainly the media may influence young people who are unsure of their sexuality to experiment and even to question their sexuality or identity. But overall, psychiatrists, psychologists, physicians, biologists, social scientists, and, most of all, L.G.B.T.Q. people themselves will tell you that they are not responding to ideas as much as to deeply felt experiences. For gays, lesbians and bisexuals, this is the way they feel that they have been created, not the result of an intellectual assent. And for transgender people, as Sister Luisa Derouen, O.P., often points out, this is part of their journey, not a response to any ideology.
2. This is a form of neo-colonialism. Another common response during the synod and in my conversations over the past 12 months was linked to the first objection: colonial powers have exported this ideology. That is, homosexuality is an importation of Western colonizers, not in keeping with the original cultural norms of other locales, especially in the developing world. This never existed in our country, one bishop told me. It is “an import,” said another. “An unwelcome visitor,” said another.
Many people also shared their anger that foreign aid is tied to accepting certain L.G.B.T.Q. rights. That is, some Western aid packages, they argue, come with stipulations that their country must accept L.G.B.T.Q. rights. One African priest said to me, “You have no idea how humiliating this is for some countries and for some people.” He repeated that word: humiliating. On the other hand, another African priest pointed out that the stipulations for aid are usually not related to promoting same-sex marriage, but simply protecting L.G.B.T.Q. people from harassment, beating, violence, jailing and execution.
Sadly, the “colonialist” and “ideology” arguments are often used by governments and dictatorships that support homophobic policies, and the church, in turn, may feel pressured to accede to this political repression. And if the state funds church organizations, it can prove even more difficult to oppose government-approved homophobia. “My government uses it as hate propaganda,” said one bishop from Eastern Europe. “There is so much darkness and anger.” The Catholic faithful are also influenced by government-controlled media to see these as “colonialist” or “ideological” threats, which makes it even more difficult for local bishops to reach out to L.G.B.T.Q. people. Finally, in countries where the church is in the minority, and government leaders promote homophobia, Catholic leaders may feel even more frightened to support L.G.B.T.Q. people.
One of the difficulties of dialogue around this issue at the synod, and more broadly in the church, is that those with experience in pastoral ministry with L.G.B.T.Q. people may want to encourage others to listen to L.G.B.T.Q. people, but are afraid of being seen as “colonialist.”
Interestingly, during the synod, the call for opening up the discussion about polygamy, raised by several African delegates, was welcomed more warmly than the question of same-sex couples, even though it could be seen as a similar outreach: to a group of Catholics whose lives do not fully conform with church teaching. Unlike L.G.B.T.Q. issues, it was also part of the most recent Instrumentum Laboris, which spoke of the need to “discern the theological and pastoral issues of polygamy for the Church in Africa.”
One European delegate said, “I was afraid to say something negative about polygamy or positive about L.G.B.T.Q. issues because I’ll be seen as colonialist.” I asked one African bishop who supported welcoming polygamous couples who wanted to feel part of the church, why we couldn’t use the same argument for same-sex couples. “Because one is natural and the other one isn’t,” he said.
Yet, as many scholars point out, homosexuality has been part of many ancient, non-Western cultures, predating the era of colonialism. Cardinal Peter Turkson raised this recently when he pointed out that there were words in his native language, Akan, for gay people. Luisa Wall, an Indigenous person in New Zealand, wrote an article in Outreach on the presence of “people of diverse sexual orientations” in the Pacific Islands, long predating colonialism.
Indeed, one of the most famous stories in the Lives of the Saints, that of the Ugandan martyrs, is often used to illustrate the terrors of homosexuality. In 1885, 22 Catholic and 22 Anglican men, some very young, were subject to gruesome deaths after refusing the violent sexual advances of the local king. Yet another aspect of that story is often overlooked. One East African priest said, “Their story is used against gay people in my country. But it also shows the presence of homosexuality long before colonialism. No one likes to say that.” Homosexuality is part of every country, locale and diocese.
As several delegates pointed out to me, the deeper colonialist influence is the history of “anti-sodomy” laws, particularly those enforced by the British Empire, which have left a lasting legacy of homophobia. So if we are going to consider the baleful effects of colonialism that needs to be part of the conversation.
3. It is a Western preoccupation. This is somewhat different than “This is a form of neo-colonialism.” The idea is that even if there are L.G.B.T.Q. people in their dioceses, it is not an “issue.” “Homosexuals in my country are not an issue,” one African bishop told me. “No one talks about it. It is not a problem.”
One African priest explained that sexuality in his country was not discussed openly, even in families, and certainly not publicly. So there is a deep distrust with this issue culturally and having the conversation “imposed on them” seems Western. For some in his country, the topic is anathema. “The bishops are outright against it and if you bring it up, they will deny that it exists or is a problem” But, he said, “Every bishop knows it exists. It is not a question of whether they are conservative or liberal. They are helpless to talk about it.”
Deep cultural attitudes and even violent practices, such as, as one African priest called it, “corrective rape,” where lesbians are raped to “cure them” makes it difficult to raise the topic. So some Catholic leaders, seeing few people discussing these topics in their countries, label it not only a Western issue, but, more specifically, a Western preoccupation. This approach can be seen in the refusal to promulgate “Fiducia Supplicans,” which permitted the blessing of same-sex couples in certain circumstances, by SECAM, the Symposium of Episcopal Conferences of Africa and Madagascar, because it would cause “confusion.” (Ironically, the argument is also made that “Fiducia Supplicans” goes against church teaching, when of course it is church teaching.)
One priest also admitted that in his country, where homophobia is rampant, there are gay priests who feel a deep sense of shame. “So they try to push it down and deny it.”
But the rising number of L.G.B.T.Q. people fleeing from persecution and violence, as detailed in Mark Gevisser’s book The Pink Line, may be the best response to the argument that this is a “Western preoccupation.” In dozens of countries you can be jailed for either engaging in same-sex relations or advocating for L.G.B.T.Q. rights. In seven countries you can be executed. Cases of L.G.B.T.Q. people fleeing their countries out of fear are rampant; sometimes that persecution follows them into refugee camps. For these people, and therefore for their countries and the church, it is very much an issue.
4. L.G.B.T.Q. people oppose church teaching. In this line of reasoning, any mention of L.G.B.T.Q. people is to be forbidden because L.G.B.T.Q. people oppose church teaching, which states that homosexual acts are “intrinsically disordered.” Certainly there are L.G.B.T.Q. people who oppose church teaching, who engage in same-sex activity and who are married to same-sex partners. But opposition among some Catholic leaders is stronger, more visceral, than the fear of seeming to approve opposition to church teaching. Last year, after I shared the story of same-sex couple I knew, one Latin American prelate said to me that he appreciated the example of self-giving love in the relationship, but that the sexual act itself was not only against church teaching, but “disgusting.”
Others argue that the opposition to L.G.B.T.Q. issues is “biblical, not cultural.” But, as many Old and New Testament scholars have pointed out, use of the so-called “clobber passages” in the Bible is highly problematic since the readings were meant for an entirely different context (similar to biblical passages on slavery) and, moreover, there are many other biblical injunctions and instructions (like stoning women for adultery) that we no longer follow. Use of the “clobber passages” is almost always highly selective and almost always used against L.G.B.T.Q. people, instead of what are called “texts of welcome.”
In these conversations, I often invite people to think about the young person, perhaps 15 or 16, who is not in any sort of relationship, and not planning on marrying any time soon, but who feels marginalized from his or her church. Or the lesbian who is subject to the horrors of “corrective rape.” Or the gay man suffering in a refugee camp or jail. What church teaching are these people opposing? Listening to the stories of L.G.B.T.Q. people does not automatically mean casting out church teaching.
5. L.G.B.T.Q. people hate the church. This argument I heard from several synod delegates, especially from Eastern Europe. For some Catholic leaders, their main experience with L.G.B.T.Q. people is hearing them critique the church in the media or seeing them protest in person. I heard several reports of protests in front of churches and cathedrals (sometimes during Pride marches). This is a problem because it links L.G.B.T.Q. people always and everywhere with opposition to the church, which naturally makes bishops less likely to listen. Human nature makes it harder to work with people who demonize you—something that L.G.B.T.Q. people understand.
One response to this is to invite people to understand that many L.G.B.T.Q. people (many of whom are not Catholic) are responding to what they see as homophobic comments from church leaders, and also to remember that these protesters do not represent the vast majority of L.G.B.T.Q. Catholics who simply want to know that God loves them, that Jesus is with them, that the Holy Spirit enriches their lives and that the church is their home. It’s also important for L.G.B.T.Q. people to know how counterproductive hateful comments can be if one wants to dialogue with church leaders.
Toward the end of my discussions with Catholic leaders and synod delegates over the last year, I often asked the same question: How can we best respond to these concerns? Almost everyone had the same answer: get to know L.G.B.T.Q. people not as stereotypes, but people. In the end, the best way to help those who oppose L.G.B.T.Q. issues—for all the reasons mentioned above—is to meet them, listen to them and come to know them as beloved children of God, that is, our brothers and sisters in Christ.
This article was originally published on Outreach.
