I use the "g" word

I should probably resonate with Ron Weasley more than I do (you know, from Harry Potter). Both of us are the youngest sons (though his family is much larger) who end up at a school where older siblings have already made their mark. I showed up at the University of Illinois and was greeted more than a few times by Telthorst? Are you related to…? Even though it had been at least five years since either of my siblings were there, they’d made a lasting impact.

Ron entered Hogwarts with a real desire to prove himself and differentiate himself from his siblings, while I was more content to follow in my sibling’s footsteps: become a sacristan and join FOCUS; it was well-trodden ground. But I think that many Catholics have a lot in common with Ron when it comes to other people’s perceptions. Ron is often viewed in light of his brother’s successes. Catholicism is often viewed in light of its failures, but in both cases, there is this longing to be seen. Ron, for his own triumphs and Catholicism as a life-giving guardian of what is sacred. This divide between perception and beliefs is no stronger than when we’re talking about homosexuality.

For years, I’ve been an audience to two opposing choruses. On one side, Catholicism hates gay people, and on the other, You are not defined by your sexuality but as a child of God. You are a child of God; that was the phrase I heard over and over again as I shared my struggle with same-sex attractions in private conversations with priests, spiritual directors, and the occasional friend. The ironic thing is during the time when I was the most closeted, I also felt the most defined by my sexuality.

Experiencing same-sex attractions hugely impacted my vocational discernment since, for years, it meant I couldn’t date, and when I shared it with a vocations director, it kept me from going to seminary. It hindered friendships and my relationship with my family as mentors dissuaded me from opening up to people for fear of identifying with my sexuality. A huge part of my prayer life was devoted to trying to overcome and fight these temptations, and I developed a deep mistrust of myself since my desires were so obviously disordered.

Then I decided to come out, and, like Ron, a certain perception seemed to proceed me long before I could explain myself. For Ron, the tip-off was his red hair; for me, it was that simple phrase—I’m gay. I’ve had people freeze mid-conversation, sit with an awkward pause, and fumble through questions when I mention that I’m gay or dating men. And I know that in these situations, people are trying to see if their perceptions about gay people match reality when they have follow-up questions like, “So, do you agree with the Catholic Church?” And often, in these conversations, that same refrain comes up: You are not defined by your sexuality but as a child of God. Now, when I hear phrases like this, I am slightly puzzled. Of course I’m a child of God; that hasn’t changed. But I think because I used the word gay, people immediately think I’ve changed.

There is a very strong caricature of “gay culture” that gets thrown around in some religious circles, one of promiscuity and provocative parades. And while I won’t deny that reality exists, I can’t think of a single gay person I know who is defined by their sexuality. Instead, I think of activists, experts in their field, close friends, neighbors, mentors, and good people. Maybe in a similar way that Catholics don’t want to be known for hating gay people, gay people want to be known for more than, well, being gay.

Now, I get that there will probably be some pushback here. The Catholic Church stands firmly by the belief that identifying with terms like gay, lesbian, bisexual, or transgender is identifying with sin. And identifying with sin, Catholicism states, fails to acknowledge the inherent dignity and sanctity of each life. It’s this reason why I felt that tension when I said I’m gay. I think those Catholics weren’t thinking about who I’m attracted to but lamenting the fact that I was choosing to identify with sin.

And this is exactly where Catholics get tripped up, and many queer people feel hurt. Catholics get so focused on the vision of the sacred, the reality of the dignity of the person, that we end up overlooking the person in front of us. Queer people see embracing this part of themselves as a gift and a good, even something sacred, and assume that the silence is condemnation. We come into these conversations with all the baggage of our preconceived notions about the other. It’s like when I showed up at college, and people just saw a Telthorst instead of seeing Justin. 

Catholicism will (likely) never view being gay as sacred, but there are still sacred spaces that we can step into together in moments like these. It is sacred to acknowledge all of who we are (even those parts that aren’t perfect). It is sacred to receive another person exactly as they are. It is sacred to integrate disjointed or ostracized parts of our lives. It is sacred to be honest and vulnerable. And it is sacred to see the person in front of us as a child of God, not because we agree on everything but because they are worthy of love. We don’t need to tell someone they’re more than their sexuality; we get to show them when we engage with all of what makes them unique: their hobbies, their job, their spirituality, their interests, and, yes, even their romantic life (if they choose to date).

If you find yourself in a situation where someone throws out a term that makes you freeze up; pause for a second. Is it the person that’s making you freeze up, or all the connotations of that word? What assumptions about the other person am I making at this moment? Is my desire for the other person’s good leading me to focus on an ideal or is it grounding me to stay present to the child of God that’s in front of me?