Breath of the Spirit

One gay Catholic's reflections on the new pope

By Christopher Cappiello

With permission. This article first appeared in IN Los Angeles Magazine

May 3 - May 16, 2005

A few years ago, while hanging out on a Saturday evening in New York, my friend Randy challenged each of us in a small group to identify what it was about us that made others uncomfortable. For me it was an easy choice: the fact that I go to church. It is a kind of second coming-out to let a new friend or acquaintance know that, as a lifelong Catholic brought up going to Mass every week, I choose to continue to worship with Dignity, the national organization of LGBT Catholics that operates outside the purview of the official church.

I understand why this can be an uncomfortable topic. Organized religion in general, and the Roman Catholic Church in particular, have demonized gays and lesbians with obsessive zeal, with those in authority going out of their way to condemn and demean us. It makes sense that most would run, not walk, from the traditions of an institution so openly -- and hypocritically -- hostile. But something deep inside me refuses to give up the precious sacraments that I grew up with just because a gang of old, mostly white, and nominally celibate men in Rome have an unhealthy obsession with other people's sexuality. Those sacraments belong to me, too. And I won't give them up so easily.

It was with great interest, then, that I watched the unfolding drama in Rome following the death of Pope John Paul II. Would the College of Cardinals muster some imagination and make a bold choice? Would the thousands of women ready and able to serve as priests be given a ray of hope that their vocations would be honored? Would the church let go of its unbalanced focus on punishing sexual behavior of all stripes and, instead, unleash its considerable power in the battles for justice and peace around the globe?

The answer was a sad joke. With the eyes of the world watching, in the residual warmth of the uncritical media spotlight from John Paul II's funeral, the College of Cardinals dropped the ball with a resounding thud as they chose Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger. They not only passed up the opportunity to put a brown or black face on the throne of St. Peter, they settled on the archbishop of Munich, a 78-year-old archconservative from Bavaria, of all places, the southeast corner of Germany that gave Hitler his initial toehold in power.

For more than 20 years Ratzinger has been the face of the church's vocal and aggressive campaign of homophobia while presiding over the Congregation for the Doctrine of the Faith, the arm of the Vatican that once conducted the Inquisition. Earning nicknames like "God's Rottweiler" and "the Panzer Cardinal," Ratzinger has gone out of his way to demonize lesbians and gays, employing his supposedly considerable intellect to craft phrases like "intrinsic moral evil," and "objective disorder" to describe gays and lesbians attempting to live honest, authentic lives. His dogged persecution of left-leaning theologians has purged the church of some of its most imaginative thinkers and his refusal to support condom distribution in AIDS-stricken areas of the globe has contributed to a devastating spread of HIV in communities without the resources to manage the virus. In 2002, his initial response to the sex abuse scandals pouring out the U.S. Catholic Church was to paint the story as a media exaggeration.

His words have alienated many thousands of adults -- gay and straight -- and there's no way to know how many gay Catholic teens have tormented themselves with debilitating guilt and suicidal thoughts in light of Ratzinger's ringing condemnations.

To add insult to injury, immediately after the unveiling of the new pope, it was announced that he had taken the name Benedict XVI. The name Benedict has always had an important spiritual meaning for me. My childhood parish in the Bronx was St. Benedict's, staffed by a cadre of young, idealistic Benedictine priests who, fortified by the Second Vatican Council's recent reforms, worked imaginatively to make the Mass relevant and meaningful on a grassroots level. I received my First Holy Communion in a home Mass in our family's tiny living room. Our faith and liturgy meant something special because we were helping to create them. More than anything else, it is those spiritually nourishing early experiences at St. Benedict's that have allowed me to retain my faith in the face of a hostile and dysfunctional church hierarchy.

The last Pope Benedict was an Italian who became pontiff just after World War I broke out. He spent his short tenure trying in vain to broker a peace accord. He was a man of reconciliation and modesty. St. Benedict himself essentially invented the concept of monastic life in the sixth century, writing the Rule of Benedict by which most monastic communities live today. Joan Chittister, a Benedictine nun who has earned the ire of Rome for her writings on the role of women in the church, reminds us that the Rule of Benedict is "totally incompatible with authoritarianism or suppression of the human spirit." Among the guiding principals of Benedict's Rule are listening, hospitality, and humility Ñqualities not often found in Vatican City. Chittister writes, "Believe me, if this pope really takes Benedict of Nursia for a model, this will be a very healthy church."

I'm not holding my breath, though. The new pontiff comes with enough pastoral baggage to fill several popemobiles. Even the increasingly uncritical press greeted his election with harsh headlines. People who know him say Benedict is a quietly humble man who loves cats. I'd feel better if they said he loved people. Or the poor. Or the disenfranchised. So I will continue to worship with Dignity with a capital "D" until I feel I can worship within the church with dignity with a small "d." And I won't go away. After all, there's a pretty good role model from about 2,000 years ago for holding the religious authorities' feet to the fire and speaking out for justice, equality, and truth.

Christopher Cappiello was co-host of Dignity New York's cable television program, The Gay Catholic Hour, from 1995-1999. He is a currently active with Dignity San Fernando Valley (www.dignitysfv.org).