Gay Catholic’s Coming Out Is Affirmed by Easter Message

As we celebrate the Octave of Easter–the eight days of rejoicing at the Resurrection that began on Easter Sunday, it might add to our prayers to reflect on a recent coming out story written by a young gay Catholic for his college newspaper.

John Ferrannini, co-Editor-in-Chief at The State Hornet, the student publication at Sacramento State University, used the occasion of the Paschal Season to describe his reconciliation of his faith with his sexuality.  In ” ‘Coming out’ as a gay Catholic,” he writes:

John Ferrannini

“The church has beautiful things to teach about human sexuality — the symbol of the complete giving of oneself to the other. Without a moral guide on this journey, I certainly did some things I regret. I felt as though my choice was between a lonely repression or exciting but lonely promiscuity.

“But I refuse to believe that. And I realized that when, at Sunday mass again for the first time in a few months, I heard Jesus ask his father from the cross in the gospel reading ‘My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?’

“. . . . He was so removed from his father that he asked why he had been abandoned, betrayed, scoffed at, beaten and left for dead.”

“But as Easter Sunday reveals, Jesus wasn’t really forsaken, because God never abandons his children. Jesus came, after all, to seek out and be with those rejected and derided by the society of his day — and ours.”

Ferrannini described the struggle and tension that he felt as he grew up as a gay teen:

“The religion is based on love, incarnate in the person of Jesus. Yet my love remains designated by the church an “objective disorder.”

“And so when I realized I was gay as a later teenager, I spent a lot of time asking why it had to be me, why this cross was the one I’d been chosen to bear.

“I asked myself what childhood trauma I must’ve gone through that made me this way.”

Despite the obstacles that Catholicism seemed to put in his way, he still found a pull towards the faith, but also began to trust his own experience:

“What attracted me to Catholicism was the certainty of knowing the absolute truth. Christ assured St. Peter that the gates of hell would never prevail against the church, that when the pope spoke doctrine we are bound to obey as though God himself were saying it.

“I was, as many are, content to accept Catholic teaching about homosexuality. But what got under my skin was the fact so many otherwise devout Catholics threw away so many teachings — particularly those championed by Pope Francis — because they were too ‘liberal.’ “

” . . . And in the meantime, the LGBT people I knew and worked with didn’t seem ‘objectively disordered.’ “

Ferrannini describes his acceptance of his sexual orientation, his temporary break from the church, and participation in activities that he did not find fulfilling.  And then the Easter moment described above seemed to break through for him, providing him with insight to be able to live creatively, not destructively, in the tension between faith and sexuality.

He offers an insight that would be important for many church and LGBT leaders to heed:

“. . . I learned that the awkward relationship between the church and the LGBT community hurts both.”

So true.  each group could benefit greatly by the gifts and insights that the other has.  From the time of St. Paul’s conversion on the road to Damascus,  the Christian tradition has always grown from the personal experiences that individuals of faith undergone.  The Church tests those experiences against its values and tradition to see if they are congruent with the faith.  As more LGBT people like Ferrannini continue to testify to the goodness and holiness they experience in the discovery of their sexuality or gender identity, the more opportunity the Church has to see the value that such people bring to the growth of the faith.

–Francis DeBernardo, New Ways Ministry, April 20, 2017

 

London’s Catholic LGBT Ministry Rallies Around Ugandan Exile

In what is a strong display of Catholic advocacy for the human rights of gay people, the members of LGBT Catholics Westminster have rallied around a gay Ugandan who worships with them to prevent him from being deported to his native land where homosexuality is criminalized.

LGBT Catholics Westminster embers at London Pride.

London’s Tablet reported that the man “faces a very high risk of being killed if he is forced to return to the place of his birth.”  LGBT Catholics Westminster is the official diocesan pastoral ministry in London, approved by Cardinal Vincent Nichols, the head of the Westminster Diocese.

The Tablet provided background about the man at the center of this situation:

“Godfrey Kawalya, a gay Ugandan refugee, LGBT campaigner and a member of LGBT Catholics Westminster, has been living in Britain since 2002. In Uganda, where same sex acts are illegal and punishable by life imprisonment, he says he was expelled from secondary school, sacked from his job and rejected by his family for being gay. He was also an active member of the political opposition to the current president, Yoweri Museveni.

“After he fled from Kampala to rebel-held territories in Northern Uganda, Kawalya said he was attacked and robbed, and a friend who sheltered him was killed. He escaped to Kenya with the help of some nuns and eventually made his way to England.

“In August 2015 the Home Office refused his claim for asylum on the grounds that they did not believe he was gay and because he didn’t disclose his sexuality when he first arrived. ‘I was fearful, it wasn’t easy. I don’t know why they don’t believe me’, Mr Kawalya told The Tablet.

“Several appeals have failed and Mr Kawalya has one final chance to appeal by supplying new evidence to support his case by 17 May.”

LGBT Catholics Westminster has organized a petition for UK citizens to sign, asking the British government to grant Kawalya asylum.  Several Catholic leaders have already signed the petition, including  Vincent Manning, chair of Catholics for AIDS Prevention and Support, Ged Clapson, Jesuit Communications Officer in Britain, and Fr. Tony Nye, a pastor at Farm Street Jesuit Church in Mayfair, London, which hosts the LGBT Catholics Westminster organization.

Martin Pendergast, a leader in the LGBT Catholics group said of Kawalya’s case that “even if he were not (gay), the law takes the view that refugees who are in danger of death or persecution because they are perceived to be gay in their home country must be granted asylum.”

For more information about LGBT Catholics Westminster or to learn how to sign the petition if you are a UK citizen, visit www.lgbtcatholicswestminster.org or email lgbtcatholicswesminster@gmail.com.

When people speak about appropriate Catholic pastoral ministry for LGBT people, I can think of no better example than this story of Catholics using church teaching condemning discrimination against LGBT people to help save a person’s life.

In less than two weeks, Frank Mugisha, the head of Sexual Minorities Uganda, the leading LGBT advocacy organization in that country, will be speaking at New Ways Ministry’s Eighth National Symposium, Justice and Mercy Shall Kiss: LGBT Catholics in the Age of Pope Francis, is scheduled for April 28-30, 2017, Chicago, Illinois. For more information and to register, visit www.Symposium2017.org.

–Francis DeBernardo, New Ways Ministry, April 19, 2017

 

Good Friday: Outcast, Oppressed, Abandoned

“Crucifixion” by Emil Nolde, 1912

The symbol of the cross in the church points to the God who was crucified not between two candles on an altar, but between two thieves in the place of the skull, where the outcasts belong, outside the gates of the city. It does not invite thought, but a change of mind. It is a symbol which therefore leads out of the church and out of religious longing into the fellowship of the oppressed and abandoned. On the other hand, it is a symbol which calls the oppressed and godless into the church and through the church into the fellowship of the crucified God.                                                                                                                                                                                         –Jürgen Moltmann                                                                                                                                              The Crucified God

 

In the Garden of Gethsemane, Praying for Identity

For Ash Wednesday and the Sundays of Lent, Bondings 2.0 is presenting spiritual reflections from a diverse group of students at the Graduate Theological Union in Berkeley, California,  who either identify as LGBTQ+ or who are involved with LGBTQ+ theological research and/or ministry. Today’s post is from Fernanda Beldero, a second-generation Filipinx-American, working as a Religious Studies teacher in the San Francisco-Bay Area. Fernanda received a Master of Arts in Ethics in 2014  from the Graduate Theological Union.

Scripture readings for Palm Sunday can be found by clicking here.

Today is Palm Sunday, the beginning of Holy Week. As I reflect on today’s gospel story, I cannot help but identify with Jesus in the Garden of Gethsemane. Allow me to explain.

Gethsemane – Matthew 26:36-46

While I identify as Catholic, and work at a Catholic high school, my lived reality is that I do not fit the pattern of an “ideal” Catholic.  I am marginalized in the Church in three ways: being Filipinx, a woman, and queer.

My marginalization goes further. On New Ways Ministry’s blog, we can read the list of names of employees at Catholic institutions who have been fired, forced to resign, or had offers rescinded because of their LGBTQ+ identity.  I was acutely aware of this terrible trend as I was finishing my master’s degree at the Graduate Theological Union and knew I would soon be seeking a job in a Catholic school.

Last year, a writer on a conservative Catholic website wrote an article about me after having trolled my school’s website and my LinkedIn profile, and then assumed that I am gay based on how I express my gender. This invasive experience made me question my ability to stay in the Church. Yes, I am gay, but this writer took my power away from me by outing me without my consent or knowledge. These are threatening times in our Church today for any LGBTQ+ person working in a Catholic institution, so this article made my employment as a Catholic educator extremely vulnerable. I was stunned and deeply hurt by this writer’s violation.

At the same time, I also heard the voices of my friends and family members who ask me “Why do you work for an institution that does not accept you?” After I found out about the article, I couldn’t even look at myself in the mirror. I seriously questioned my calling to work as an educator for my faith, which is itself is a complex issue.

I have dated women who could not understand why I am still Catholic, and yet this community is very much a part of my identity. It has been a lens through which I have experienced my spirituality. The examples of my mother and grandfather, who embodied my Christian faith, the rituals and traditions of Mass and praying Novenas after a family member who has passed, spending time in nature with my family: all of these have lain the foundation of my current spirituality.

My faith is something I cannot shake, nor can I turn away from. And yet I struggle with it every day. Many in the Catholic LGBTQ+ community also struggle with this dilemma, asking the question: “How can we authentically be ourselves, our whole selves, which includes our sexuality?”

So, in today’s gospel reading, I am drawn to the image of Jesus in the Garden of Gesthemane, where, frightened at what the next hours will hold, he prays aloud: “My Father, if it is possible, let this cup pass from me; yet, not as I will, but as you will.” How many times in our own lives have we said a similar prayer to God, in times of distress, sorrow, facing the unknown? Jesus knew his calling, his purpose in his life: to give us all people an example to live by, and to die on the cross to show God’s deep love for us. But in this moment, he showed us that while he knew his vocation, he, like us, had doubts and weaknesses.

We need to ask ourselves an important question:  What is our own personal calling and purpose in life? In what ways are we challenged by others who judge us as not fit to be following our call, or who do not accept our authentic, God-given selves?

After Jesus requested his disciples to stay awake with him while he prayed, they ended up falling asleep.  His response to them: “The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak.” My spirit is willing: I want to continue to impart to my students the best of the Catholic faith. I want them to know that the Catholic faith is centered on Jesus who ministered with the marginalized in his community, with the lepers, the tax collectors, the prostitutes, the outcasts. He preached and lived unconditional love. Our Catholic faith calls us to be in solidarity with those on the margins of society, of the Church, and of our world. Our faith is not a faith meant to keep us comfortable. It should challenge us constantly, shaking up our worldview, and inspiring us to seek justice for those who deserve to be acknowledged as human beings.

But it is my flesh, my ego, that is weak at times: I sometimes give into others’ judgments about me and my sexuality, the color of my skin and the organs I was born with. In order to be my whole self, I need to acknowledge and feel the sorrow, the hurt, the despair, that this dilemma has on me. I need also to reflection how I have to continue my work both as a queer womxn and as a Catholic educator.

As I struggle with all these challenges, I look outside my window and see the trees budding with new life, the cherry blossoms blossoming. I hear the sweet sound of birdsong. It is possible to experience peace in the midst of an inner storm.

As we embark on this Holy Week, may we all reflect on our own pains and sorrows as a way of sharing the pain of Jesus’ persecution for being who he is.  May we work toward being in solidarity with the pains that our human family and Mother Earth are experiencing which is the contemporary version of Jesus’ death on the cross. May we also not forget to look forward to the Easter hope of Jesus’ resurrection and to experience it in our own lives.

Fernanda Beldero, April 9, 2017

New Ways Ministry’s Eighth National Symposium, Justice and Mercy Shall Kiss: LGBT Catholics in the Age of Pope Francis, is scheduled for April 28-30, 2017, Chicago, Illinois. Plenary speakers:  Lisa Fullam, Leslie Griffin, Rev. Bryan Massingale, Frank Mugisha. Prayer leaders:  Bishop Thomas Gumbleton, Bishop John Stowe, OFM, Conv.  Pre-Symposium Retreat Leader:  Sr. Simone Campbell, SSS.  For more information and to register, visit www.Symposium2017.org.    

We Are Not in the Tomb But in the Womb

Elaina Jo Polovick

For Ash Wednesday and the Sundays of Lent, Bondings 2.0 is presenting spiritual reflections from a diverse group of students at the Graduate Theological Union in Berkeley, California,  who either identify as LGBTQ+ or who are involved with LGBTQ+ theological research and/or ministry. Today’s post is from Elaina Jo Polovick, a second year Masters of Divinity student at the Jesuit School of Theology. Elaina is currently working on her field education at the Ignatian Spiritual Life Center in San Francisco.

Scripture readings for the Fifth Sunday of Lent can be found by clicking here.

“Master, the one you love is ill.” Mary says this to Jesus point blank in today’s Gospel. Mary, who has already anointed the feet of Jesus, is clearly close to Jesus. She knows that Jesus loves Lazarus, her brother, and she knows that Jesus will visit.

When I hear Mary boldly say “the one you love is ill” I feel the call to make it my own prayer. But who is the one who is ill? Right now, I think it is not just one person. It is a Church and a country who continuously rejects their LGQBT brothers and sisters that are ill. In fact, an illness plagues our communities.

Jesus says of Lazarus’ illness: “This illness is not to end in death, but is for the glory of God, that the Son of God may be glorified through it.” In the hope that the weaknesses of our Church communities do not end in death, last semester I wrote a liturgy with another student in which we hoped to name the reality that the Church we love is ill. We wrote the liturgy as a final project for a Queer Theology class we took at the Pacific School of Religion. (Queer Theology is the academic study of theology through the perspectives of LGQBT people). The goal of our liturgy was to ask what does it mean to love one another, to see each person as God’s Beloved? And how do we attempt to find justice, harmony, and reconciliation in our Church with all its complexities, full of beautiful, broken people and their identities? Our hope was to move toward a more loving, vulnerable, and authentic community to care for each and every part of the Body of Christ.

Last week we had the blessed opportunity of celebrating part of the liturgy we had written. The core of the liturgy was a ritual where those present were invited to write on a piece of paper an identity that they struggle with and/or embrace in relation to the. I and the other presider told the community that each of these identities, each of these pieces of who we are, would be read aloud anonymously by myself and the other presider. We gave about five minutes for people to write something and add it to a basket in front of the altar. Since each identity written was held by at least one member of the community present, a member of the Body of Christ, we knew they must be held and honored by the whole community. So, each identity that was read aloud was echoed by the community. When we read things like, “I am a woman, I am bisexual, I am a teacher, I am sexy, I am transgender, I am a priest” the community echoed, “We are women, we are bisexual, we are teachers, we are sexy, we are transgender, we are priests.”

The experience of that ritual proved to be more moving than I could have expected. There was laughter and tears, pain and hope. Hope is something we need in our Church. We need to know that although sometimes naming or accepting our identities may seem like a death, we are really only facing a temporary darkness as Lazarus did. A good friend who has been walking with me through my coming out recently told me that sometimes we are not in the tomb but in the womb. For me, starting to tell people that I am queer has felt like walking into a dark cold uncertain tomb, but those who know me well have seen a transformation. Being who I am has brought me greater life and light. And praying the identity ritual last week made me feel known more fully as who I am by my community and by God.

Jesus not only awakens Lazarus in today’s gospel, he also awakens the disciples to a greater understanding of who Jesus is: a revolutionary, a miracle worker, and a beloved friend. We must awaken our Church to be revolutionary in its fight for the dignity of every person regardless of the diverse identities they hold. We must awaken our Church to be miraculous in its openness to loving all the members of the Body of Christ. We must awaken the Church to be a beloved friend that loves so deeply it is willing to weep at the deaths people face every day, just as Jesus wept to show how deep his love for Lazarus was.

Sometimes we are afraid to open the tomb or to be born anew. We are afraid of how heavy the stone is, we are afraid of the smell– we are afraid of having to deal with what is inside our Church. But we must be willing to leave the tomb, or perhaps to reorient ourselves so we realize we are in fact in the womb getting ready for the light.

Instead of doing general intercessions in last week’s liturgy, we petitioned the One Who Loves Us by saying: We dream of a church where…

. . . No one is considered intrinsically disordered;
. . . Everyone regardless of their gender or sexual orientation can be fully welcomed;
. . . Marital status cannot keep people away from the sacraments, especially the Eucharist;
. . . Where everyone matters and all are welcome;
. . . Where there is justice;
. . . Where there is love.

We prayed for the one Jesus loves: each and every one of us, exactly as we are.

I hope that as we continue our Lenten journey, we can continue these prayers.

–Elaina Jo Polovick, April 2, 2017

QUOTE TO NOTE: At the Intersection of Gay, Catholic, and Mexican-American

A few times a year, Bondings 2.0 features pieces on different individuals’ experiences of being LGBT and Catholic. Even in the age of Pope Francis, many people outside the church cannot understand why an LGBT person or an ally would remain within Catholicism. And, indeed, many people in the church struggle to reconcile multiple identities.

kkyzxeyk

Xorje Olivares has added his thoughts on this conversation at Vice [Editor’s note: the full article contains content which some readers may find inappropriate.] Olivares reflected:

“I, like most LGBTQ Catholics, am a modern-day, socially-conscious parishioner in a stunted and horribly antiquated institution, albeit one that I return to each week because it’s what I know best as the product of a devout Mexican-American household. It feels right to me, since I genuinely understood elements of my faith years before I ever had a grasp on the nuances of my sexuality.

“But my Catholic identity came first, and you may be surprised to hear that it was my faith itself that helped me come to terms with my sexuality during my adolescence. Despite growing up in a predominately Mexican-American community that placed a lot of value in the concept of ‘machismo,’ I felt then, and continue to believe, that God made me and millions of others different. And I never questioned His intentions or asked that ‘this cup be taken from me’ (as Jesus did prior to the crucifixion) because I always viewed my sexuality, and my individuality, as a gift. For God never errs, correct?”

Olivares concluded:

“Being gay and Catholic are both choices—the only difference is that God made the first.”

Despite the challenges, and the criticism from queer friends who are not in the church, Olivares has thankfully found his place at the intersection of being gay, Catholic, and Mexican-American.

LGBT ministry in Hispanic Catholic contexts has its own particularities. Professor Elsie Miranda will be speaking on “Hispanic Catholic Culture and LGBT Issues” at New Ways Ministry’s Eighth National Symposium, Justice and Mercy Shall Kiss: LGBT Catholics in the Age of Pope Francis, is scheduled for April 28-30, 2017, Chicago, Illinois. For more information and to register, visit www.Symposium2017.org.

Robert Shine, New Ways Ministry, April 1, 2017

Seattle’s Gay Mayor Ed Murray and His Catholic Journey

Back in 2012, when the marriage equality debate was in full swing in Washington State, one of the leading voices in the push for equality was Ed Murray, a gay Catholic state senator.   Murray, the chief senate sponsor of the marriage legislation, was tireless in his campaigning, and often spoke of his faith as one of the reasons he was working for LGBT equality.

Murray, now the mayor of Seattle, was recently profiled by Seattle Weeklyand, interestingly, the focus was not on the fact that he was a gay mayor, but a Catholic one.  As the magazine article points out, Seattle is tied “with San Francisco and Portland for the least religious city in the country.”  Only 13% of residents identify as Catholic, while 37% identify as religiously unaffiliated.

In Seattle during the 2012 marriage equality campaign, Mayor Ed Murray is flanked by New Ways Ministry’s Francis DeBernardo and Sister Jeannine Gramick.

While Seattle has had Catholic mayors in the past, what makes Murray’s faith so unusual is that he speaks so openly about it:  he’s an “out and proud” Catholic.  And the magazine finds a particular detail about Murray’s depth of religious commitment very interesting:

“Indeed, Murray’s Catholic faith can seem a study in contradiction. Not only is he a practicing Catholic in a secular city, he is a gay man who has remained in a church that has been outright hostile toward homosexuality.”

So, the reporter set out to gauge “whether Murray was a ‘true’ Catholic—a question that has been raised elsewhere on account of his sexuality and stances on various public-policy issues.”  The answer to that question is the basis of the long, but interesting article which chronicles Murray’s faith development that has led to his “consideration of the priesthood, his decision to leave the Catholic Church, and, ultimately, his return to the fold and how it has helped guide his first term as mayor.”

While the article is well-worth reading for all Bondings 2.0 readers, those who are 55 years of age and older will certainly identify with Murray’s story.  He speaks poignantly of coming of age in the era of John F. Kennedy’s election as President and the transformation of the Catholic Church due to the Second Vatican Council.  Rev. Mike Ryan, the rector of Seattle’s St. James Cathedral who knew Murray as a teenager and who is still a close friend, remembers the adolescent who would become mayor:

” ‘He made an impression, which is unusual,’ says Ryan, who at that time was involved in youth outreach and meeting a large number of young people. ‘Normally you meet high-school kids, they’re not thinking about the big picture. Then here’s someone who cared about issues of justice, peace, world issues, that was not typical of his contemporaries. He took a Catholic point of view [on those issues], the Catholic social teaching, which is some ways is one of the best-kept Catholic secrets.’ “

Ed Murray and his husband Michael Shiosaki at their 2013 wedding.

The article also recounts Murray’s coming out as a gay man, and how Catholic pastoral ministers supported him in that process:

“After graduating from high school, Murray attended St. Thomas Seminary in Kenmore, exploring the priesthood. After a year there, he decided against it, and finished his college studies at the University of Portland, a Catholic institution. There he got to know Trappist monks who introduced him to monastic worship, and counseled him on, among other things, his homosexuality, which he began to acknowledge in college. Far from the pious recriminations one might expect, Murray says that in college he was encouraged by priests to embrace that part of himself, rather that feel shame about it. It was further evidence, for Murray, that the Catholic Church, especially in its social-justice form, was a home for him, rather than the prison many people considered it.”

In the 1990s, Murray was a state representative and working for an LGBT anti-discrimination bill.  The Seattle Archdiocese, under Archbishop Raymond Hunthausen, had originally supported the measure.  But in the 1990s, the new Archbishop Thomas Murphy opposed it, causing a crisis of faith for Murray, as he explains:

“After sticking with the Church for years, despite its poor record on many gay-rights issues, Murray says he couldn’t take it any more.

” ‘Most of my friends would die by the time I was 40 of AIDS, [and] we had a pope [John Paul II] who was pretty horrible on the issue of HIV/AIDS,’ Murray says. When the archdiocese reversed its stance on the anti-discrimination bill, “you had a Church that was opposing my civil rights.

” ‘I reached a point where it’s like, this does not work. This does not work for me.’ At 40 years old, he quit practicing Catholicism.”

But that wasn’t the end of the story:

“. . . [F]or Murray, life outside the church proved less tenable that his life within it. Strangely, what brought Murray back to the church was the work of a Protestant, Kathleen Norris. In 1997, during Murray’s second full term in office, the South Dakota author published The Cloister Walk, a memoir of her time spent at Benedictine monasteries. A bestseller, it reminded Murray of his time with the Trappist monks in Oregon. ‘I read it, and it really was like a glass wall shattered. Here was a Protestant woman from the Dakotas introducing my tradition back to me. … I didn’t feel spiritually whole until I came back to the church as a practicing Catholic. There’s no other explanation I can give for it: As a spiritual home and a spiritual experience, it’s where I belong.’ “

Though most of his contemporaries have left the Church because of gender issues, he remains. Faith still presents a challenge to him, and he sees that as a good thing:

“If you read the Gospel, it is not about being together with a bunch of people you feel good about. It’s about being places that are uncomfortable with you. So am I challenging myself more as a Christian if I sit in a congregation where everyone believes the same as I do, or am I being more of a Christian if I’m sitting in the congregation where the nun in the pew ahead of me goes down and testifies against marriage equality and sometimes I want to throw a missal at her head?”

In another interview, Murray acknowledged that, in terms of church, he is “kind of waiting for the other shoe to drop … I always have one foot in the door and one foot out the door. I never know if I’m going to stay or if I’m out.”  Yet the Pope Francis papacy seems to have given him hope.  The Seattle Weekly  story concludes:

“Murray says he was skeptical of Francis at first as well. But he was soon convinced that Francis was true to his hype—a fact underscored in 2015 when Francis released his encyclical on climate change as a social-justice issue. Shortly after publishing the teaching, Pope Francis invited 40 mayors from across the world to the Vatican to discuss ways to fight climate change. Among them was Murray, the man who had considered the priesthood, left the Church in a rage, and more recently been made to feel like such a pariah that he feared being denied Communion.

“Murray says he was unsure at first whether the Vatican had made a mistake. ‘When they sent the invitation, we had folks call the Vatican and say, “Are you sure you understand who I am, and that you’re inviting me?” ‘ Murray says. ‘They said, yes, they wanted me to come.’ “

On a personal note, I had the pleasure of meeting Ed Murray in Seattle in the summer of 2012, when Sister Jeannine Gramick and I were in Washington State for Catholics for Marriage Equality events (see photo above).   He struck me then as someone whose faith identity was evident in the way he spoke and listened to people.  Reading about his journey of faith gave me a deeper appreciation for the many ways that LGBT Catholics and their allies are using their religious heritage to renew the world and the Church.

Francis DeBernardo, New Ways Ministry, March 28, 2017

New Ways Ministry’s Eighth National Symposium, Justice and Mercy Shall Kiss: LGBT Catholics in the Age of Pope Francis, is scheduled for April 28-30, 2017, Chicago, Illinois. Plenary speakers:  Lisa Fullam, Leslie Griffin, Rev. Bryan Massingale, Frank Mugisha. Prayer leaders:  Bishop Thomas Gumbleton, Bishop John Stowe, OFM, Conv.  Pre-Symposium Retreat Leader:  Sr. Simone Campbell, SSS.  For more information and to register, visit www.Symposium2017.org.    

Bondings 2.0  posts about Ed Murray:

February 2, 2012: “N.Y. Times Reports Incorrectly on Catholic Opposition to Marriage Equality

August 26, 2012:  “New Ways Ministry Supports Marriage Equality Efforts in Washington State

October 17, 2012: “Marriage Debate Brings Out Deep Faith and Thought in Catholics

October 31, 2012: “Prayerful Vigils and Reflections Highlight Lead Up to Election Day in Washington State