Gratified, But Not Convinced, By The Latest From The Vatican

"Homosexuals have gifts and qualities to offer the Christian community: are we capable of welcoming these people, guaranteeing to them a further space in our communities? Often they wish to encounter a Church that offers them a welcoming home."

So far, sounds good, doesn't it?  The source of that quote might come as a bit of a surprise:  a relatio from the Vatican.

Given that the current Pope has said things like "If someone is gay and seeks the Lord with good will, who am I to judge?", one could be forgiven for believing that the Roman Catholic church--in which I grew up--might become a more welcoming place for LGBT people.

What is commonly forgotten is that the Pope's quote was taken somewhat out of context:  He was not talking about according loving same-sex couples or people who live by the gender of their spirit the same respect within the Roman Catholic church as cisgender heterosexual couples.  Rather, he was responding to a question about gay priests who remain celibate.  The relatio quoted at the beginning of this post was talking about the same issue, and other gay people who wish to serve the church while remaining celibate.

All of those conservative Catholic groups who fear their church is losing its grip on its "traditional" values have nothing to fear.  As the National Catholic Reporter tells us, more actual and suspected LGBT people have been fired, not had their contracts renewed or simply were pushed out of their jobs in other ways,  by Catholic institutions this year--with two and a half months to go--than in any year since 2008. 

Moreover, five major American dioceses (Cincinnati, Cleveland, Columbus (OH), Honolulu and Oakland (CA)) have revised teacher contracts with "morality clauses" that ban teachers from supporting same-sex relationships in their personal or professional lives.  I'm not a  lawyer, but I suspect that such clauses could be interpreted to mean that a teacher could be fired for accepting a gay couple's invitation to dinner at their home.

Now, to be fair, I don't mean to denigrate individual Catholics.  Many--including my mother and my closest friend--have shown me kindness when other people--including someone with a PhD in Gender Studies--didn't.  Also, I have entered Roman Catholic church buildings and encountered people who greeted me warmly or simply didn't notice me. 

However, for all of the good PR the current Pope is giving the Church, I don't expect that it will welcome LGBT people as equal members, let alone as priests or nuns, during my lifetime.  That is the reason why, after realizing how much of a spiritual journey my gender transition was for me, I have joined an Episcopal congregation, where one of the priests asked me to teach Sunday school.

Why We Are The Future Of Faith

Lately I've found myself thinking more and more about an issue that I ignored and had assumed I would always ignore:  that of the relationship between transgender people and religious communities.

You see, for a long time I told myself I wanted nothing to do with any religion.  Most of the time, when people asked about my faith, I'd say I didn't have any (unless, of course, I grunted "It's none of your fucking business!").  It's a lot easier to say you don't believe in a supreme being or power, or anything beyond this physical world, than to get into arguments about what it is, isn't or might be, or why I don't subscribe to someone else's belief.

Even so, I couldn't help to notice that more than a few trans people are involved with religious communities.  Some, like Eva-Genevieve Scarborough and Joanne Priznivalli, write about their experiences on their blogs.  Outwardly, I expressed astonishment that any trans person would want to be a participating member of a church, synagogue or other organization, let alone study or train to be a cleric.  I told myself such people were misguided, at best.  Sometimes I wondered whether they suffered from advanced cases of Stockholm Syndrome.  What else could explain their desire to identify with institutions and members that, very often, told them they were vile sinners or that they simply didn't exist?

One thing I could not fail to notice was that they--and some trans people who weren't overtly religious--often described themselves as male or female "in spirit" and their processes of "coming out" and transitioning from living in the gender they were assigned at birth to life in their true selves as "spiritual" experiences.

Yes, those words came up a lot:  "spirit" and "spiritual".  I even used them to to describe my own journey.  And on the night after my surgery, I had a very long, detailed and intense dream that, for me, could not have been evidence of anything else.

Perhaps my perceptions were colored by the fact that most of the support groups I attended, and most of the trans-related activities in which I participated, involved people who were beginning their transitions--or simply exploring the possibility of doing so--in the middle of their lives, or even later.  Not a single one of them spoke of their wishes merely in terms of changing their body parts; they all spoke of making their corporeal forms more reflective of their "true selves" or "spirits."  I have come to believe that if you have reached a certain age before embarking upon the requisite counseling and medical treatments, you really can't see your change in any other way.

(To those of you who are young--say, under 40--I hope I don't seem condescending.  If you really understand your identity and why you want to change your body to reflect it, you are more mature than most other people.  On the other hand, I have seen very young people who see the transition only in terms of hormones and surgeries.  They will say or do whatever they think they must--including sex work--to get them.  The consequences are often tragic.)

Anyway, I realize now that the revulsion I expressed at religious institutions was, in part, a response to my own earlier experiences with them.  I grew up as a Roman Catholic and spent several years in a school affiliated with the church.  I was even an altar boy!   Although the Church was, and is, repressive and I had some rather unpleasant (to say the least) experiences with priests and nuns, I have to admit that I received a better education than I might've otherwise had.  And, truth be told, for all of the bigotry that's part of its doctrine, I was safer there as a sensitive and possibly effeminate boy than I was on, say, sports teams or ROTC (both of which I would later participate in).  And, as Richard Rodriguez points out in A Hunger of Memory, there is less socio-economic class prejudice in the Church than in other parts of society.  Growing up in blue-collar Brooklyn, I was aware of that fact, even if I couldn't articulate it.  

And now, it seems, there are some religious leaders--and their followers--who actually understand that following the precepts of their faith means treating as they would other people.  Love thy neighbor--whether trans or cis--as thyself. Thou shalt not kill--whatever the identity of the person.  

Perhaps even more to the point, some are starting to realize that if their faith communities are to have any future at all--let alone carry out their missions--they must include people of all identities.  Actually, it goes deeper than that, as Joy Ladin points out:  Judiasm, of which she is an adherent, as well as Christians, Muslims and others cannot continue to confine themselves to the gender binary. It's not just a matter of the survival of religious institutions; it's a matter of allowing all people to participate in life as fully realized beings.  That, as I learned during my own transition, means understanding the spiritual dimension--forget that, the spiritual reality--of a person's identity.