Author Archives: Tim MacGeorge

The Shock of the Cross: Homily for Passion Sunday (2011)

Posted on by

Passion Sunday – April 16/17, 2011

For the communities of Dignity/NoVA at Emmanuel Church-on-the-Hill in Arlington, VA and Dignity/Washington at St. Margaret’s Episcopal Church, Washington, DC.

Today’s Liturgy is long, and perhaps that’s why the Sacramentary instructions say that a “brief” homily may be given, and I promise, I will be brief.

On this Passion / Palm Sunday, the homilist’s job is a bit precarious. It’s precarious because there’s the danger of the homily becoming a distraction from the power that is within the Liturgy itself – a Liturgy that is unique as we seek not merely to remember the beginning of events that happened two millennia ago, but as we truly transcend time and are, once again, entering in a way that we can’t fully explain and don’t clearly understand, the Mystery that we sometimes too easily call “the passion, death, and resurrection” of Jesus.

The Liturgy of Passion Sunday is filled with contradictions, drama, and even shock. There’s the apparent joy of what we call Jesus’ “triumphant” entry into Jerusalem; the dramatic events of the ensuing hours; and most especially the shock of the Cross.

Shock is very powerful; it can take our breath away, leave us without words, and cause us simply to wonder.

  • Perhaps, like me, you were shocked earlier this week when you heard the news of a young mother who drove her minivan into the Hudson River, killing herself and three of her four young children.
  • Perhaps you were shocked, as was I, when you heard of the recent, sudden, and very sad death of a long-time member of this community.
  • Perhaps you’ve been shocked when you’ve heard about the betrayal of leaders such as priests and bishops or popes who’ve played a role in stealing the innocence of the young, or who – for the umpteenth time – said something that excluded this or that branch of God’s Family Tree, something one could never imagine coming from the lips of the Man from Nazareth.
  • Perhaps you’ve been shocked by a personal betrayal by a family member, close friend, or significant other — a betrayal by someone you love who has hurt you in one way or another.
  • Perhaps, you’ve even been shocked in recent days and weeks when political leaders – many of whom bear the name of Christian – put forth public policy and budget ideas and proposals for our country that seem to reflect little sense of those foundational Christian values of “social justice” and “the common good.”
  • And … perhaps what is most shocking of all … is when we recognize that we, ourselves, are capable of doing some of those very same things that we find so shocking in others, realizing that sometimes we find ourselves in both the crowd waving palms and the crowd shouting “Crucify him!”

In a few moments we will listen for the first of two times this week to the long story of Jesus’ final days and hours. The most shocking words we will hear are those of Jesus himself who, when dying on the Cross, wonders out loud whether or not he has been abandoned by God: “My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?” Yes, we know how the story ends … and we are glad for that. But so that the true and full power of that ending might transform us in whatever ways we need to be transformed, let us not too quickly run from the Cross to the empty tomb. Rather, let us take time here and now and throughout this week to be fully engaged in this, the Passion of Jesus, allowing our Passions to be one with His, our sufferings to be one with His, our betrayals and hurts and crosses to be one with His; because the more fully we are one with Jesus in this the hour of His Passion, the more fully we will be one with Him in the eternity of His joy that we know is yet to come.

Homily for the Third Sunday of Lent

Posted on by

Third Sunday of Lent (Year A) – March 26/27, 2011
For the communities of Dignity/NoVA at Emmanuel Church-on-the-Hill in Arlington, VA and Dignity/Washington at St. Margaret’s Episcopal Church, Washington, DC.

Although we in this Dignity community hear these particular readings only every third year – following, as we do, the 3 year cycle of our Lectionary – there are many, many parishes that hear these readings and this Gospel story about Jesus’ encounter with the Samaritan woman at the well every year. The reason for that is those parishes have an active RCIA program – they regularly have adults who have either never been baptized or who are seeking to complete their initiation through the Rite of Christian Initiation of Adults, the RCIA. In those parishes, this Third Sunday of Lent marks the first of 3 very important “steps” in that ritualized process. Two Sundays ago, they would have gathered at their Cathedral with their godparents and the local Bishop, and the unbaptized would have declared in a public way their intention to be initiated into the death and resurrection of Christ through the Easter sacraments of Baptism, Confirmation and Eucharist. While previously they would have been called Catechumens – students, really – interested in studying and learning about Christianity – now they are called the Elect, having been publicly accepted by those of us who already bear the name of Christian into these Lenten weeks of preparation of prayer, fasting, and the doing of good works.

This particular Sunday, the Third Sunday of Lent, those Elect are gathering at their parish’s principal liturgy, along with their godparents, and they are celebrating the first of what are called The Scrutinies. In two weeks they will hear perhaps the ultimate gospel story outside of the Passion Narratives that tell how Jesus’ has power even over death as they listen to the story of the raising of Lazarus from the dead. Next week they will hear how Jesus brings vision and light to the Man Born Blind; and today they hear the story of Jesus’ encounter with the Samaritan Woman at the Well as he declares himself to be “Living Water.”

It sounds like such a cliché for me even to say this, but it really is true that we could spend hours talking about this Gospel story we just heard, so filled it is with depth and meaning.

  • We could, for example, take note of how the Gospel writer has Jesus speak 7 times in his conversation with the woman, using that biblical number of fullness, like the 7 days of a week, to symbolically suggest that an encounter with Jesus brings wholeness; OR
  • We could discuss how Jesus pays little heed to established gender roles by engaging an un-chaperoned woman in conversation in a public place and at a time of day where a woman would never be by herself; OR
  • We could see how these gender roles continue to be ignored as the Gospel author puts the woman in the role of evangelizer, being the one who bears witness to Jesus to the men in the town square.

However, the point I want to draw our attention to is neither of these, but rather to what the conversation these two have is all about. The instruction for the RCIA instructs the Elect to come forward after the homily. At that time special prayers – prayers which are rightfully called Exorcisms – will be prayed over them as the community encourages them to continue on their journey of faith, asking God to free them from sin and from all that hinders what the RCIA itself calls “progress in genuine self knowledge through serious examination of their lives and true repentance.”

When we think about it, isn’t that what not only Lent but the entire Christian life is all about – progressing in “genuine self knowledge through serious examination” of our lives, as we seek meaning, purpose, satisfaction and fulfillment? Our thirst that seems never to be satisfied is what makes us work so hard to succeed in this life – whether that be in school, or the workplace, in a sport we enjoy, or some other activity that gives us pleasure. That thirst is also what brings us here, week in and week out; it’s what underlies the longings of our hearts as we strive to do what is good and right; as we strive to seek justice in this world, and to be agents of change in the face of established, sinful social structures that all too often keep people from realizing their full humanity as beloved children of God, from their rightful place at the table of God’s People.

Certainly it is good and typical that we have such thirst. After all, is there anyone here who can honestly say that when you look at the entirety of your life, you are fully satisfied? Is there anyone here who has no unmet goal, no unfulfilled hope, no dream yet to be realized? Is there anyone here whose relationships are perfectly satisfying, whose health is without flaw, and who has achieved everything you ever set out to achieve? If there is, I suspect you’d be the envy of us all! Simply articulating those questions demonstrates that there isn’t one person on this planet who is not unfulfilled in one way or another. As this Gospel story unfolds, it’s clear that one of the main messages Jesus brings to this woman, and one which she in turn bears to others, is that it is Jesus himself who is Living Water and is the One who can and does satisfy every longing of our hearts, every thirst we have, if only we could be as open and honest and vulnerable as she is.

But before we jump too quickly to the end of this dialogue that Jesus has with this woman – a woman whose life and past and shortcomings he already knows – let’s pause for just a moment. What is the very first thing Jesus says to her, the first words out of his mouth? “Give me drink.” Give me a drink. The encounter’s focus starts out not with the thirst that the woman – and by extension we – have; but rather on the thirst that Jesus has. In reaching out to her – and to us – Jesus reminds us of God’s never-ending thirst for us; and not just for “us” in general, for “humanity” writ large. Jesus’s encounter with the woman at the well proclaims that God thirsts for and longs for and desires each and every one of us … including you and me and all those countless others whom society or church says “you’re not good enough.” Like his words, “I thirst” spoken on the Cross, Jesus – whom we believe is the en-fleshed presence of God in the world – became one like us precisely because of that eternal thirst of God to be loved by each and every one of us, the ones God created in Love.

Lent is a time when we are all called to be like that unnamed woman at the well in Samaria – a woman not perfect, a woman “with a past,” but more importantly a woman whose openness and faith satisfied the thirst of Jesus such that in turn she came to know his loving touch and was able to drink freely from the life-giving water he offers.

Are Lay Catholics Less “Catholic” than Church Leaders?

Posted on by

From today’s Washington Post about Maryland’s movement to recognize the right of same-sex couples to marry:  “But the presence of three Catholics at the helm in Annapolis hasn’t stopped a same-sex marriage bill from wending its way through the legislature, triggering deep disappointment among church leaders as it suggests a waning of Catholic influence in this heavily Catholic state,” (emphasis added).

Some see the role of Catholic politicians in advancing Maryland’s soon-to-be enacted (hopefully!) legislation recognizing same-sex marriage as indicative of decreased “Catholic influence.” Such a conclusion would be justified if only bishops and other “official” Church leaders were seen as the bearers of that influence.  But Catholics know that the Church is more than the pope, more than bishops, more than those who hold a particular office or position. The Church is — as the Second Vatican Council taught so clearly — the People of God. From this perspective, the roles played by Catholic leaders in advancing the rights of God’s gay and lesbian children — especially when the positions those leaders take are rooted in Catholic ideas on human dignity and justice — can be seen not as a diminution but rather an expansion of influence of true Catholicism in the public square.

Homily for the 4th Sunday of the Year (January 29/30, 2011)

Posted on by

Homily for the 4th Sunday of Ordinary Time (Jan. 29/30, 2011)
For the communities of Dignity/NoVA at Emmanuel Church-on-the-Hill in Arlington, VA and Dignity/Washington at St. Margaret’s Episcopal Church, Washington, DC.

Readings: Zep 2:3; 3:12-13; 1 Cor 1:26-31; Mt 5:1-12a

These Beatitudes from the Gospel of Matthew come at the beginning of what is commonly known as the Sermon on the Mount or sometimes “The Great Sermon.” The author of Matthew’s Gospel goes to great lengths to “set the stage,” as it were, like any good director of a play or movie, to make sure that the readers of his Gospel know how important these Beatitudes and this Sermon are to fully understanding the message of Jesus.  The Gospel writer, for example, starts off by saying that Jesus “went up the mountain,” consciously evoking the image of Moses who went up the mountain to receive the Commandments, to be the bearer of God’s Law to the Israelites.  No matter that the geography of where Jesus was at the time doesn’t really have a “mountain” per se … the point is that Jesus is the New Moses, the New Lawgiver … and that what he is about to say is a revelation from God.

The Gospel writer continues to set the scene by making the point that Jesus “sat down.”  Being seated is the position of a teacher, a rabbi, a wise person to whom others come to seek insight and understanding.  And that is, in fact, what happens next.  Jesus’ disciples come to him, they gather around this seated teacher and wait.  The translation we listened to then simply says that Jesus “began to teach them,” as it leads in to the Beatitudes themselves.  However, the original text paints a more descriptive picture. The Greek text says, “…and he opened his mouth and begin to teach them.”

All of this the Gospel writer does to make sure that Jesus has our full attention, that we are closely attending to what is to come. And the reason we need to pay close attention is because what Jesus says doesn’t seem to make sense. Like so much of what he says, these Beatitudes don’t seem to fit with our experience of the world.  In fact, one of the standard points one hears whenever there’s a discussion of the Beatitudes is that they turn upside down the values of the world.  They take what most would see as conventional wisdom and turn it on its head.  For example, what is so good about being poor or poor in spirit? Why would Jesus claim as blessed those who grieve and are in mourning? Where in your experience is meekness seen as a virtue, and why would Jesus proclaim as blessed those who are persecuted and lied about and condemned by others?

To be sure, our world does at least pay lip service to the virtues of being merciful and seeking peace, but do we really hold these in high esteem?  Do most people in our war-torn and violent world really live their lives by showing mercy when we have the chance, or by doing what we can do not only to pray for peace, but actually to promote peace in our actions as well as our words?

To get a bit of an insight into these Beatitudes and the “newness” of the law and message that Jesus was preaching, our first reading from the prophet Zephaniah may be helpful.  This prophet is not one we read very often.  There is heaviness in much of what he wrote, but one of his most enduring contributions to our understanding is his assertion that God is concerned for the poor ones of our world – in Hebrew, the anawim.  In the culture of the time, being “poor” isn’t solely about economic condition, though it’s certainly connected to that in some way.  Being poor, rather, is about having lost status in some way or another. It’s about being outside the social order, outside the group.  Thus, the widow or orphans were seen to be poor in this sense, because she or they lost their social status with the death of a husband or parents.

The question remains, however … why would the poor, or the poor in spirit, be said to be blessed or highly esteemed? What could possibly be so good about being considered without status or power or position in any group or culture or society? The answer is that such poverty, such lack of status means that the poor ones – the anawim – are freed from the illusion that status or power or position have lasting value. Jesus proclaims the poor as blessed, as honored – as the truly lucky ones esteemed by God – because they are freed from the burden of what the world and others say is important and are almost forced by the sometimes harsh and difficult circumstances of their lives to rely on the One who is always dependable and eternally reliable.

Perhaps the truth of this is most explicitly stated in the final beatitude in which Jesus first states a general blessing using the third person, and then speaks directly to his disciples using the second person. “Blessed are they who are persecuted for the sake of righteousness, for theirs is the kingdom of heaven.  Blessed are you when they insult you and persecute you and utter every kind of evil against you falsely because of me. Rejoice and be glad, for your reward will be great in heaven.”

This past week was a busy one for news.  We saw the President’s State of the Union address and the various responses to it; the bombing of the Moscow airport; the continued violence and unrest in Egypt, as well as the continued stories about our own troubled economy and what the newly-elected Congress may have on its agenda. In the midst of all these “big stories,” you may have missed the one about the murder of one man in Uganda.  David Kato was 46 years old. He was a short, very slightly built man who had become known as an activist within the Ugandan gay community – especially in the wake of having his picture on the cover of a Ugandan tabloid that called, literally, for the killing of homosexuals in that country where homosexuality is a criminal offense.  In its call to “hang them,” the newspaper provided the names and addresses of 100 gay and lesbian Ugandans. The paper’s call was fulfilled earlier this week when Mr. Kato was beaten to death, having been attacked with a hammer to the head.

It is coverage of the story, CNN interviewed another gay Ugandan, a lesbian named Stosh Mugisha, about her experience of also having been identified in that same newspaper story. At one point in the interview, as she told about feeling too scared to leave her home because neighbors had gathered outside and were shouting that she was a homosexual, and stones were being thrown at her house throughout the night, the interviewer asked “Was it sad for you” to see this happen in your own home, your neighborhood, your own community?  With tears in her eyes she responded, “Yes I felt so sad, it’s what made me want to leave the place, because these are people with whom I used to share … I felt I was betrayed.”  “But,” she said after pausing to wipe her tears, “I had to just understand that they didn’t know what they were doing…”

Does that sound familiar?  “They didn’t know what they were doing.” This woman – someone whom Zephaniah would clearly have named as among the anawim, the outcasts of society, someone who (in the words of St. Paul) was not powerful and whom her society counted for nothing – this gay Ugandan woman was able in the midst of her own persecution to see the humanity of those who literally sought to stone her to death.  I have no idea whether she is a Christian or whether or not she ever heard of Jesus, but clearly she carried the mind and heart of Jesus within her … and may those of us who call ourselves Christian have faith enough to do the same.

Homily for Christmas 2010

Posted on by

Christmas Eve and Evening, December 24/25, 2010
For the communities of Dignity/NoVA at Emmanuel Church-on-the-Hill in Arlington, VA and Dignity/Washington at St. Margaret’s Episcopal Church, Washington, DC.

Christmas homilies can be a challenge. Whether the challenge is self-imposed by homilists and preachers, or whether it’s really part of the fabric of the celebration of this very powerfully-charged time of year, I think there is a higher degree of expectation that the sermon, the homily, will be particularly inspiring. And so with that in mind, I began casually asking some people a few weeks ago, “what would you like to hear in a Christmas homily?” Without exception, they said that what they wanted to hear was message of joy and of hope.

One respondent – a friend who is not Catholic, but who regularly attends weekly services at what would be called a “mainstream” Christian church – said that he was tired of hearing about the “heavier” side of this season. You know what I’m talking about; it’s those homilies and sermons which are really intended for those who aren’t in the pews; the ones in which there is lamenting about the over-commercialization of Christmas, about how we’ve lost a sense of what Christmas is “all about,” and there is an almost unspoken judgmentalism with calls to “put Christ back in Christmas.”

And so, I want to make sure that you hear from me a message that truly is one of joy and of hope – and that message is this: Simply put, Christmas, this almost unbelievable feast of the Incarnation in which God becomes one like us – is at its core a celebration not of us finding God, but of God finding us.

Most great religious traditions speak to our inherent human yearning for God, for the divine. They speak to that truth expressed so well by Saint Augustine, the North African bishop of Hippo, who over 16 centuries ago wrote, “God has made us for God’s self; and our hearts will not rest until they rest in God.” Religious and spiritual traditions throughout the world all provide ways intended to lead people to God; paths to the divine that the believer may follow. Christianity – at least our Catholic Christianity, in its best expressions – generally speaks very favorably about such diverse paths that people from various faith traditions may pursue in their life’s journey.

But the uniquely wonderful thing about what we celebrate this night, about our belief in the Incarnation – that God becomes human in the Person of Jesus – is that no matter what happens in the course of our own life’s journey, no matter what paths we take or the degrees to which we may or may not be on the “right path,” Christmas reminds us that God so loved the world and so loves each and every one of us that God is present within our very flesh. The birth of Jesus is God’s way of telling the story of Creation over again … only this time with greater emphasis. It’s the story of creation and re-creation not just in words, but in a Person. It’s almost as if God is saying: “Ya know folks, when I created the world and said it was good; and when I created each and every one of you in My own image and likeness and said that you are ‘very good’ … you really didn’t believe Me, did you?!” Just as in the garden, God came looking for Adam and Eve, so in Jesus, God comes looking for us, comes looking to find each one of us once again.

But why do we even need to be found? Well, we need to be found because of the truth that is expressed so beautifully in that iconic spiritual hymn, Amazing Grace. You know the words, I’m sure, just as surely as you know the words of the Our Father or the Hail Mary. What’s the 3rd line of Amazing Grace? “I once was lost, but now am found.”

In one way or another, to one degree or another, at one time or another – we individually and sometimes collectively do get lost. We sometimes lose our way in the many darknesses of life – and we all know what those darknesses can be. There is, for example, the darkness of war that comes from the desire for power and dominion over others; the darkness of poverty that comes from the greed of those who are never satisfied; the darkness of exclusion and isolation that comes from failing to see the face of God in everyone. But more powerful than these and every other darkness you can imagine, is the Light of God. More powerful than anything that may temporarily lead us away is the bright and enveloping light of the divine that finds us in our darkness and leads us home.

This time of year is often a time for reflection; a time to pause, and think back on recent months, or perhaps the full year, and take stock of our lives. On this Christmas Eve / Evening, I invite you each, even now, to do just that. Just for a moment, perhaps even daring to close your eyes – think back on what has taken place in your life over the twelve months since we last celebrated this day.

  • Were there times when you were lost?
  • Were there moments or periods of darkness, or hurt, or pain in which you felt lost and alone?
  • Were there situations that brought you confusion and disorientation?
  • Did you find yourself, on occasion, not sure of where you were going or what your next step should be?

Now think about what happened during those times.

  • How did God find you in the midst of all that, and in what small ways did you see the Hand of God at work in your life?
  • Did someone offer a kind word, a simple gesture, or even just an understanding look?
  • Were you able to see something or hear something or understand something in a new and different way?
  • Did a family member, a friend, a spouse or a loved one let you know that you are special and unique and well loved?

These are among the simple ways in which God finds us in the concrete, flesh and blood lives we have been called to live. And it is, I suggest, in the presence and love of others that God finds us again and again and again.

Some of you are probably aware of an event that was held at Georgetown University a few weeks ago. It was called “A Catholic Family Conversation on LGBT Issues.” This ‘conversation’ had a debate-style format in which those with opposing views on LGBT issues were given time to speak, with a moderator guiding the discussion. The person who spoke on what might be called the “pro gay rights” side of the discussion was Andrew Sullivan, the well-known author, blogger, and commentator. In his opening remarks, what struck me was that Sullivan, unlike his counterpart on the other side, didn’t talk about “issues,” trying to present an argument why such things as same-sex marriage or the repeal of DADT were good things. No, what he did was simply tell his own story; the story of how, growing up in a very Catholic family and environment, he came to understand who he was as young gay person. At one point he said: “The first person I came out to was God… and God was OK with that.” Sullivan had a sense early on that he was / is indeed created as a beloved child of God, and that God is not only “OK” with who we are, but that God indeed LOVES us as who we are, precisely because God made as we are. And … if God loves us so much … how can we ever truly be lost?

And so no matter where we may be on our life’s journey today, Christmas reminds us that the light that came into the world 2,000 years ago still shines within each and every one of us … and that even (and perhaps especially) in those times when we’re not quite sure where we are or where we or our world or our Church might be going, we are called to have faith that our Loving God will surely find us once again.

Thoughful analysis of Phoenix “abortion”

Posted on by

This is a very helpful, thoughtful article (National Catholic Reporter), and it would be instructive to read the entire analysis that Professor Lysaught provided.

I wonder if Bishop Olmsted has an equally thoughtful and detailed analysis of his own position, one that is not simply an “argument from authority,” (i.e. “it’s wrong because I say it’s wrong,” or simply “I disagree” without giving detailed explanation as to why he disagrees)?

However, seeing how Bishop Olmsted has handled this situation, I won’t hold my breath.

Stop Blaming “Washington”

Posted on by

“‘Earmarks are a symptom of wasteful Washington spending that the American people have said they want reformed,’ [Texas Republican Sen. John] Cornyn told reporters,” reports today’s Washington Post (Republican senators say they’ll vote against their own earmarks).

I know that when it’s used in this sense, “Washington” means so much more than the 68 square mile piece of land along the Potomac River and its 600,000 inhabitants. But as one of those inhabitants for over seventeen years, it irks me to no end that “Washington” as a word so often becomes politicians’ shorthand way of doing just what Sen. Cornyn did to describe all that is bad with federal government and politics.  The truth is, it’s not Washington that spends money or that imposes taxes or that sneaks earmarks into legislation.  No, it’s the very politicians from Texas and Florida and Kansas and South Dakota and every other state in the nation that sends Texans and Floridians and Kansans and South Dakotans to do these things. Instead of blaming “Washington” — whose citizens don’t even have the full representation that the citizens of these other states enjoy — why don’t these senators and representatives take responsibility for their own actions and simply replace “Washington” with “we” or “senators and representatives.” More honestly, Cornyn should have said, “Earmarks are a symptom of wasteful spending by me and my fellow senators…”

That would certainly be more accurate, though perhaps, like earmarks themselves, just a little too close to home.

A Catholic Family Conversation on LGBTQ Issues at Georgetown University

Posted on by

Last evening I attended A Catholic Family Conversation on LGBTQ Issues with speakers Andrew Sullivan and Maggie Gallagher, moderated by EJ Dionne. The event was held at Georgetown University, sponsored by the school’s Democrat and Republican clubs.

Sullivan was thoughtful and articulate in his presentation as he told his own story and shared with the audience why it’s important for LGBT people to have the same civil rights as all other people. Saying that the first person he came out to was God, at an early age he understood that “this thing” (i.e. his experience of same-sex attraction, only later to be labeled as homosexuality or being gay) was part of his very nature, his very core; part of who God made him to be. I can identify!

While Sullivan’s starting point in the discussion was his own lived-experience, Gallagher’s starting point was an abstraction.  This, I think, exemplifies the fundamental flaw in the arguments of those who seek to deny God’s gay and lesbian children their rights and rightful place in society. Gallagher’s argument goes essentially like this:

Because there is something unique and special in the way humans procreate; and because this involves the coming together of a man and a woman in the act of sexual intercourse; and because the child produced from such intercourse deserves to be raised by the mother and father who created him/her; the social bond which we call “marriage” is unique and limited to those couples who can procreate. Thus, because same-sex couples cannot produce and raise children in the same way as heterosexual couples, they therefore should not be afforded the same social recognition of their relationships in the institution which societies throughout history and across cultures have called “marriage.”

So what’s the problem? Well, the many self-evident holes in that argument notwithstanding, the problem is that she’s barking up the wrong tree; she’s arguing the wrong issue.  No one who seeks to advance the rights of gay people within society at large or within the Church is in any way “attacking” heterosexual marriage or seeking to change the way children are produced and raised.  The starting point for advocates of LGBT rights is the lived experience of those of us whom God created gay. That’s what this is about — simply recognizing that there is now, always has been, and probably always will be a significant part of the human family whom God creates gay or lesbian. Given this unavoidable fact, we’re faced with the question of how God’s gay and lesbian children can and should live within society.

Gallagher may well have legitimate concerns about the “breakdown of [heterosexual] marriage” or “what’s best for children” or any other social issue that warrants its own discussion.  But many of us who hope for change in church and society regarding gay people are concerned less with issues and more with people.  In fact, I have to wonder if the evening would have unfolded differently if that distinction had been recognized from the beginning.  If this had been a “Catholic Family Conversation about LGBTQ People,” would that have made a difference?