Okay -- this is what I had really wanted to write a while back, before when I went off on a spiel how great the Catholic church (and many
other Christian churches) can be.
The plain truth is: church is also frustrating and maddening. I’m not even
talking about the abuses, hypocrisies, and sundry other crazinesses that litter
its history and its current manifestations. There is also just the day-by-day balancing
beam of praying and loving and serving with people who may or may not be on the
same wavelength. And also, the variety of approaches to dealing with, challenging,
and/or ducking dastardly dictates from on high.
Here’s just one example of this: There are two midlife women
in my Engaging Spirituality group who are married to each other. I’ll call them Dierdre and
Molly. They got hitched during the brief window of time when same-sex marriage was legal in
our state of residence, but they have been living in commitment to each other for more
than twenty years. Dierdre was raised Catholic and has always felt most deeply
at home spiritually in Catholic churches. And, to a certain extent, the institutional church
welcomes her. The Holy See considers homosexual orientation to be “objectively
disordered” – neither a choice nor a sin. They see it as a kind of congenital
condition, I guess? – somewhat akin to a disability. So, according to the Vatican, it is "okay" to be gay –
just as long as one doesn’t act on his or her orientation and have a lover /
spouse of the same sex. In essence (and despite a lot of disagreement on this in the pews) Catholic gays and lesbians are supposed to
be celibate, as is a straight Catholic who is not living within the sacrament of
marriage.
While Molly was not raised in a particular religious
tradition, she became Catholic as an adult after being drawn to the church
through her relationship with Dierdre. The pastor at our church -- who has long
known about their relationship – welcomes them and accepts their civil
marriage. While he cannot officially bless their couplehood, the two are welcome
to receive communion. This would not be the case in some Catholic churches,
where many priests would say that “living in sin” or being “outside of the
state of grace” bars them from receiving communion. (And there are some bishops
– Newark Archbishop John Meyers, for example -- who are demanding that gay-marriage-supporting
Catholics in their dioceses stop taking communion. More lines being drawn in
more sand. But despair not. Check out this Huff Po article by Rev. Daniel C. Storrs.)
Molly’s connection to the Catholic church has always been
uneasy. Though grateful for our pastor’s support and for the acceptance and
love of several Catholic friends and co-parishioners, she and Dierdre are still
partially closeted in church. Even in our fairly liberal parish, there are
still certain folks who would find their relationship unacceptable. Molly
describes it as a kind of liturgical “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy. She and
Dierdre can go to church together, but they must avoid expressions of affection
that other couples take for granted. In introductions among church friends and
acquaintances, they cannot refer to each other as wife -- at least not until
they feel comfortable enough to let their hair down. And part of this tip-toeing
concern is for our pastor, who could get in trouble if our bishop got word that
married lesbians receive the Eucharist in his church.
Over the past year, Molly grew increasingly weary of this
church closet. It’s difficult enough to live with the day-to-day intolerances
of the larger U.S. society – having to be closeted in the space that is
supposed to be a spiritual home grated harshly against her sense of integrity,
decency, and self-respect. So she started attending a nearby Episcopal church,
where her marriage to Dierdre could be shared openly, among all the congregants. So far, her wife Dierdre has stuck with the Catholic church – attending Mass on Saturday afternoons but also joining Molly at the
Episcopal liturgies on Sunday. We joke with Dierdre that she is going to become
really holy, attending two churches
each weekend.
Recently Molly invited our ES group and several other
friends to attend a ceremony celebrating her reception into the Episcopal
church. She radiated such joy that day – new suit, new highlights in her hair –
standing next to her wife without having to hide or dance with duplicity. The Molly contingent (most of us Catholic,
including at least 3 nuns) filled about a third of the medium-sized chapel,
part of a simple and elegantly-designed space comprised of several units inside
an industrial park.
The bishop of the local Episcopal diocese – a warmly sincere,
slightly goofy, and welcoming fellow -- was the presider. Beyond Molly’s elation,
what I remember most about this day was the open discussion that occurred at
the end of the service, when the bishop invited those gathered to ask questions
or voice a concern.
One of the questions we explored was the role that today's worshipping
communities play in a culture that frequently sees religion as working at
cross-purposes to secularism, democracy, and reason. As the bishop explained, the
three top adjectives that non-church-goers use to describe those in the pews
are: judgmental, hypocritical, and homophobic. Nearly everyone sighed sadly and
shook their heads, recognizing the truth in these descriptors – even though it’s
not the complete truth. One woman in her 80s shared her experience of how she
grew out of her judgments and fears about homosexuality after her daughter came
out to her. Now, with the two of them reconciled and attending the same open
and affirming church, she has great hope for an evolving Christianity.
Another person asked if the bishop believed in hell. I felt
him treading carefully here, a high-level religious leader in a mixed crowd of children and adults. Chuckling,
he began by saying “well, hmm … sometimes this stuff ends up on the internet.”
(So of course, this kindly man remains incognito in this-here pseudonymous blog,
and a part of me can’t help but wonder if Christianity is evolving all that much if even
an Episcopal bishop has to be this cautious about what he says…). But I loved
his response, which took the form of a thoughtful rhetorical question: “If you
go to ‘heaven,’ and yet others are in ‘hell,’ – can you really be in heaven?”
And the bishop ended up admitting that he believed truth was
revealed in all the major religions, and that he disagreed with the claim that
Jesus is the “one and only way” to be saved/transformed/heavenbound: “Is Jesus a way or the way? I find
that he is the way for me, but to say that he must be the way for all is
perilous.”
Really, just a delightful part of the celebration, this
informal pre-barbecue chat with the bishop. And so here I go again, jabbering on about the
wonders of church, when I had intended at least somewhat of a rant about how crazy
and wearisome Christian worshipping communities can be. Alas, perhaps I’m an Episcopalian
in Catholic drag -- not that there's anything wrong with that -- and the dissonance keeps throwing my aim off.
