How a Gay Dad Showed Me the Lies of Progressive Catholicism | Wender Mind Kids

Castro Street

“Mom, why did you divorce dad?” I asked for the hundredth time. I was used to hearing her reply, “We just couldn’t live together anymore.” But this time she didn’t say that. We were on our way to the laundromat and I remember exactly where we were when she called.

“Because your father is gay.”

“Oh I know the,” I lied, trying to hide my shock. I Not know that. I was 9.

I did not know the.

Although my parents raised me with a Christian worldview and I knew the Bible well, my world began to change radically after my father explained why he was sleeping with men. It didn’t take long for both my father’s home and our visits to change. A calendar of mostly nude men appeared in the bathroom, along with some revealing artwork. The visit was very uncomfortable, but I tried not to let it bother me.

On the weekends that I was visiting, Dad and I would go to Castro Street in San Francisco. It was a colorful place and I quickly found that I had to watch where I was looking so as not to see more than I expected. I learned my way around the neighborhood and knew which bars were gay and which were lesbian. I even went to the gay Olympics to cheer on a family member.

i was hip I was open minded. I was enlightened.

But I was also torn. If someone in authority, especially someone trusted, tells a child that something is true, that child will believe them. In fact, this child can build their worldview on that foundation. I did. This is why pride parades, drag queen story hours, and teaching gender as a social construct are so insidious.

Out of loyalty to my father, I would never have shared my instinctive doubts about his lifestyle, but I clearly remember being unsettled by it. And yet, I shrugged off my feelings and ignored my discomfort so I could be a supportive daughter. As I got older, I became a good social justice campaigner at my school. I learned how to put condoms on bananas and the importance of safe sex no matter who your partner is. I certainly wouldn’t judge.

My father died of AIDS when I was 17 on the morning of my prom. I’ve watched him endure his final months without a partner and I’ve listened to him express his regrets.

Just before my mother remarried, she and I became Catholics. But in our ultra-liberal community in California, there has been very little accurate catechesis of what the Catholic Church taught on these subjects. However, I certainly embraced what the church taught about sexuality: open-mindedness, tolerance, acceptance. I was desperate for a way to explain what the Bible says so clearly, and the progressive wing of the Catholic Church was eager to help me.

My Jesuit University did a fantastic job of not only condoning my late father’s behavior, but celebrating it, wholeheartedly embracing and acknowledging the homosexual lifestyle. In my Marriage Theology class, instead of having a straight couple speak, the teacher had a gay couple come to speak about the sacredness of their “marriage.” At the time I said I was so glad the church was changing its backward views on homosexuality; but deep down, such an idea unsettled me.

This illusion of the changing Church continues to this day. In his most recent essay at Range, Fr. James Martin, SJ, explains why Pride and the Month of the Sacred Heart of Jesus are not only compatible but complementary. He argues that Our Lord loves all, which is certainly true. But his salacious case that Pride Month is something Catholics should celebrate is rife with tacit approval of homosexual relationships. First he says: “Imagine a young LGBTQ person who is not in any sexual relationship but just wants to be accepted. where is the sin Second, it ignores the fact that we are all sinful. Who among us has not sinned?”

Of course, a chaste person struggling with same-sex attraction is not sinning. But then Fr. Martin turns to the argument that we are all sinners. Oh well. But we should also try to stop sinning. That kind of you-hates-chaste LGBTQ individuals gives way to we-are-all-sinners, and then the reader is free to fill in the blank: but God loves me anyway; or so the church is wrong; or maybe, so we should never judge the actions of others.

This type of article is exactly the kind of evidence I clung to in my progressive, liberal days trying to justify not only the homosexuality around me but my own sinful choices. While Fr. Martin is right that we are called to love all, sometimes the most loving thing we can do is call others out of mortal sin.

After having my own children, I became friends with several traditional-minded Catholic women who took the time to educate me about the Church’s teaching on homosexuality. What made them so effective was that they shared the truth in the context of our larger relationship. Even though our family didn’t homeschool, these homeschooling moms welcomed me. We had monthly dinners and occasional stump-the-priest nights where we could ask questions and freely discuss faith. Through these encounters, we were able to discuss and debate, but only after we’d shared our favorite recipes, lamented the sleepless nights with our babies, and before we arranged the next park day for our kids to play together.

These sometimes heated discussions about homosexuality didn’t define our friendship. They were just one facet of our relationship, and these women cared for me even when I was a relativist. Being able to move on to other issues where we shared common stances gave me space to reflect on her words and dropped my guard. What I said in the argument was often no longer what I believed to be true. Sometimes, even though I believed what they told me, I felt like I had to make arguments to the contrary.

Through the influence of my friends and through the grace of God, our family began to conform to the teachings of the Church. But without her courageous speaking of the truth, I wonder if I would have changed.

On Rod Drehers to blog, he recently described the experience of a progressive artist he dubbed “Jane.” One night, in the midst of a depression and in the clutches of transgenderism, she accidentally clicked on a video of Jordan Peterson that was on her social media feed. She was shocked to find that she agreed with everything Peterson said. His lonely voice amidst the sea of ​​madness she had been swept into, along with the brave voices of my friends, gave her permission to pull out. She gave up her artistic career because she realized that being alert wasn’t worth it.

Hearing the truth was important to Jane and important to me. For those in a position to teach others the truth about homosexuality, marriage, or transgender ideology, please speak up. Fearlessly share the beauty of truth, because your voice may be the only sane voice your friends and family will hear. Know that people can be angry. You might feel attacked. You might be defensive. But in a world where schools, media, corporations, and even many within the Church (like Father Martin) teach half-truths or outright lies, how is anyone supposed to find the truth if we don’t show it? The fruits of wisdom and counsel are often invisible, but that doesn’t mean the seed of truth you sow won’t sprout.

Finally, I was able to accept that the people who told me the truth and defended the actual teachings of the church were the people who cared about me. They were the ones who loved me and wanted me to know about God’s plan for human sexuality. I did not always respond kindly to their correction, and there were many arguments and disagreements, but my friends—my real friends—always met my arguments patiently with the truth and presented them with compassion. They neither yielded nor shunned me when I was in the clutches of my ignorance. They spoke the truth out of charity, and over time softened my hardened heart.

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