Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death,
I will fear no evil, for you are with me.—Psalms 23:4
In 2013, the Pew Research Center found that the average lesbian, gay, or bisexual American first began to sense that they might be different from their straight peers at age twelve. The average age when someone “came out,” telling a close friend or family member about their orientation, was twenty.
Eight years: eight years of covert, intent listening at the family dinner table, wondering what the people you care about the most would think if they knew your secret. Eight years of news headlines (in 2013: “Bishop Exorcises Entire State to Protest Same-Sex Marriage”; “South African Cardinal: I Can’t Be Homophobic ‘Because I Don’t Know Any Homosexuals’”) and eight years of homilies. Eight years of people talking about you all the time, never realizing that you’re right there in the room. Eight years in a silence that is not contemplative but lightless.
Both anecdata and the not-especially-rigorous studies I’ve seen suggest that people nowadays come out at younger ages, and so spend somewhat less time in that unsettling, lonely place. And yet for Catholics who begin to sense that they might be gay, there is still so much isolation. So many people still fear what might happen if they told their fellow students at St. Suspicia’s, let alone their CCD teacher—or their mom. And the more visibly Catholic the people you care about are, the more you might wonder and fear what they’d think of you. The more you might hesitate.
And you might be right to hesitate, in some of those cases. Because what I’ve learned through decades of mentoring LGBT+ and same-sex attracted Catholics is that even the many people in the Church who truly want to serve gay people well have no models for what it looks like when an openly gay person flourishes in the practice of our faith. Many well-intentioned Catholics either stay silent, out of fear of doing harm, or say something that’s awkward and unhelpful at best, painful and discouraging at worst. And who can blame them? Nobody told them what it might mean to be both gay and Catholic—to accept oneself, and follow Christ in His Church. Nobody showed them what it might look like for queer people to be called to missionary discipleship.
This week, Building Catholic Futures launches: you can find our website here. BCF grew out of a retreat where lay evangelist Keith Wildenberg and I gathered with other practicing Catholics who identify as gay, bi, or same-sex attracted, in order to learn what helps people like us grow closer to Jesus. Again and again, we heard the importance of companions. When a parent, priest, teacher, or trustworthy mentor is willing and able to accompany us well, shining a light even in the darkest and messiest parts of our journey, it is so much easier to trust that Jesus also walks beside us.
That’s why Building Catholic Futures is not a support group. Those groups exist, serving a wide range of LGBT/SSA+ Catholics’ needs. But our job is different. Our mission is to equip Catholic institutions to evangelize and catechize gay people of all ages: evangelizing, sharing the Gospel in a way that makes it obvious that Jesus understands and honors gay people’s deepest longings and aspirations; and catechizing, bringing the Church’s wisdom into contact with people’s unique experiences.
At our website, you can learn more about what we do, including our three program tracks. Our Futures resources serve those who share the Faith with the next generation: parents, Catholic school personnel, catechists and youth ministers. Journeys resources serve those who work mostly with adults, like priests, seminarians, and parish and diocesan staff. And Witnesses resources help LGBT+ adults become the role models we needed when we were young. All of our work is grounded in the experiences of thousands of LGBT+ people we’ve spoken with, across a wide range of relationships to the Catholic Church; and our work is also created in consultation with the kinds of people who will be using our resources, from teachers to parents to priests. In recent months we’ve presented “beta” versions of Futures, Journeys, and Witnesses materials in Baltimore, St Louis, and Wales, and we’re ready to share this work with everyone.
No matter what your own orientation is, if you’re out there in the Church today then you have probably encountered people with questions about how the Church relates to LGBT+ people. Our job is to help people enter those conversations from a new set of assumptions:
- Assume that gay people can and do flourish as Catholics.
- Assume that the Church has holistic wisdom that can shape lives toward love, not isolation.
- Assume that Jesus liberates LGBT+ people not just from sin, and not just from oppression, but for integrity and for mission: bringing one’s whole self to be known by the Church, and knowing and sharing the joy of the Gospel.
These assumptions can’t just be asserted. They have to be grounded in realistic understanding of gay people’s spiritual journeys, and familiarity with the stories that inspire queer people: stories from Scripture, from the life of Jesus and the lives of the saints, from history and from contemporary biography—and from the people around you.
If you want to start discovering those stories, why not take a look at what we’re doing? Let us be your companions, as you discover new ways to accompany others.
Wherever you go I will go,
wherever you lodge I will lodge.
Your people shall be my people
and your God, my God.—Ruth 1:16
Image: Adobe Stock. By Farknot Architect.
Eve Tushnet became a Catholic at Yale University and is the author of the award-winning books Gay and Catholic: Accepting My Sexuality, Finding Community, Living My Faith and Tenderness: A Gay Christian’s Guide to Unlearning Rejection and Experiencing God’s Extravagant Love. She has long experience giving presentations and leading workshops on gay Christians’ spiritual lives, for audiences including priests, seminarians, and Catholic-school personnel. She is a cofounder of Building Catholic Futures.
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