The Sacrifice (14 page)

“Yes. There was no way you were going to pass on attending seminary. And I couldn't bring myself to even consider life without you. So, there I was at the University of Dallas.

“Which turned out to be a Catholic university, owned and operated by the Diocese of Dallas.” Sue smiled broadly. “And although you were attending seminary, I was at least rubbing shoulders with seminarians, with Hungarian Cistercians as teachers.”

“Right,” Alice concurred. “We really owe the Trappists a vote of gratitude. They've played an important part in our lives without even knowing how important.”

There was an extended silence, during which they sat and silently reminisced.

“Then we woke up … gradually,” Alice said finally.

“We should've known that religion was going to be a problem.”

“It's more my fault than yours or anyone's,” Alice said. “I was far more aware than you of the coming conflict. Mixing the Roman and Anglican Churches is like stirring oil and water: It may look promising, but it doesn't work.”

“I don't see it,” Sue said. “I don't see it because, probably, I can't see it.”

“Look at it this way, sweetheart: There is no possible way we are ever going to be able to marry in the Roman Church. They are not—emphasize not—going to ordain women. They are not going to accept married Roman Catholic men into the priesthood. They are not going to ordain married women. And they are not going to allow inactive priests to return to the active ministry.

“Some of those prohibitions are stronger than others. But even if the Roman Church somehow decided to do any or all of these things, they still wouldn't accept our marriage. Not because we are of different—”

“—slightly different—”

“Okay,” Alice admitted, “when it comes to Episcopal High Church, ‘slightly different' religions. It
is
possible to get a dispensation for an interfaith marriage. But not between two men or two women. I think you know the ‘official' teaching of your Church regarding homosexuals—gays and lesbians.”

“It's ‘an evil.'” But that was conjecture on Sue's part.

“That used to be the official word. In recent years it's softened somewhat. Now, the ‘official' teaching is that the state of being gay is not a sin. It may very well not be a gay person's ‘fault.' But note the words:
Sin. Fault.”

“I didn't know the teaching had gone that far,” Sue said.

“Yes, it has. The bottom line is: Gays can be gay. But they may never express that externally. In other words, it's okay for a woman to love a woman or a man to love a man. But they may not have sex.”

A long silence followed, during which both women sat, eyes closed, each going over in her mind that which they had gone over, verbally and mentally, many, many—too many—times before.

Sue was the first to open her eyes. “Look, Alice …” She leaned forward. “Here's where my bottom line is: I wish with every fiber of my being that we could be an ordinary couple, as the song says. I wish whatever worries that enter our lives would just be the same worries everyone has. Like health, security, peace. But maybe we can't have that. Not now, apparently. Maybe sometime.

“But if we separate because we can't be an ordinary couple, I think we will miss the whole point of our lives. If we split up now, we may never be together again. And I don't want that to happen.

“At the same time, I'm talking about sacrifices I would be willing, more than willing, to make. If push comes to shove, I could at least compromise my religion. I know some theologians who suggest a pastoral solution for people like us. People who are prohibited from a Church-sanctioned marriage because Church law hasn't caught up to today's understanding of human nature.

“Maybe, with the guidance of the right priest, I could learn to live with you in good conscience. But we want to be totally honest tonight. We want to be perfectly candid with each other. Could you live with me that way? In good conscience?”

Alice shook her head. Not in the manner of one saying “no,” but rather as one just overcome by the enormity, the immensity, the seeming insolvability of it all.

“I'm trying to marshal my thoughts,” Alice said finally.

“The priesthood is a wonderful but complicated calling, at the very least. It is a marvelous vehicle for helping people, for leading people in worship, for patching marriages—where that's possible.

“It also puts a priest in a goldfish bowl. Parishioners expect perfection. They're never going to get it, but still they expect it. You're constantly being evaluated and criticized. The hours are long. In reality, it's not anywhere near nine to five. It's around the clock.

“The point I'm trying to make is that the priesthood—and I'm primarily thinking of the Anglican priesthood, though all this is the same with the Roman priesthood—the point is that it's a demanding profession. And that's just the ordinary everyday demands of this priesthood.

“Let me explain it this way: Suppose two people get married. And I'm not considering a gay couple. A pair of straights. Let's say the man is an alcoholic, or almost one. She marries him because she's confident she can change him.

“So, on top of all the new demands and lifestyle of a newly married person, she has to reform her husband. What would you guess would be the odds that she could carry it off?”

Sue sat back in her chair and folded her arms. She could tell the general direction in which this was heading. She wasn't sure she wanted to hear the concluding argument. But the question had been asked. A response was expected.

“The chances are not good,” she admitted. “They're not good for her working a cure for her husband's drinking. And, partly for that reason, chances aren't good that she or anyone could save the marriage.

“But,” she continued, forestalling a further statement from Alice, “neither of us is addicted to anything. It's not us.”

“It is and it isn't. My point is that a conscientious priest faces plenty of pressure just to do his or her basic sacerdotal job. It's demanding and unrelenting. A good marriage can be very helpful in relieving much of the stress.”

“Do you have any doubt that we would have a happy marriage?” She was pained at the implication that their marriage could fail.

“Not for a moment,” Alice replied. “What I suggest we do is factor in all the added concerns that we—no, make that I—would have to face.”

“Okay. Let's hear them.”

“Well, I can't stress this too much.” Alice leaned forward as if to better gauge Sue's reaction to all this. “Just about the main thing that could complicate everything is the bishop. Bishops come in all sizes and strengths. Some bishops flat-out refuse to ordain a gay man or a gay woman.”

“They can do that? In this day and age!”

“Uh-huh.” Alice nodded. “What with one thing and another, they can do just about whatever they want when it comes to the essentials of priestly life.

“Now, granted, my bishop—I say ‘my' because he has already virtually accepted me—anyway, he's in charge of the Diocese of Central Michigan. The See city is Lansing. My bishop, by past performance, does ordain gays. He demands a close and meticulous scrutiny before he confers orders. He never gave me the impression that he is open to this across the board. Each case is examined as unique. So, before I get into the ordinary, run-of-the-mill-type priestly ministry, I'll have to pass muster because I'm ‘different.'

“Nor does all this mean I will forever serve the bishop of Central Michigan who ordains me. The bishop can and will retire, if he lives long enough. Or he may be translated to another See. In which case, if I were openly gay, I could be in some trouble.”

“How?” Sue thought this was cruel. That the bishop's successor could change the rules of the game to suit his own beliefs seemed unfair.

“How could I get in trouble?” Alice was about to clarify her statement. “Honey, in some ways, placement can be more important than ordination.”

“Placement?”

“I want a parish ministry. I stand a very good chance of getting such an assignment. But what if the bishop gets angry? What if a bishop wants to punish me? What if he removes me from the parish and puts me into a jail ministry, or seminary assignment—or places me on his own staff at the Diocesan Center?”

“Isn't there anything you could do if that happened?”

“Remember now, I'm gay.”

“How could I forget?”

“I emphasize the gay issue because of what might be termed an ‘official' stand of the Episcopal Church.”

“Which is—?”

“Which is that the Church is, theoretically, guided by the biblical ideal. It's not a position carved in stone. Very few things in Anglicanism are inflexible. And nothing in Anglicanism is infallible in the Roman sense.

“But, for instance, there's the question of experience in the matter of gay priests.”

“‘Experience'?”

“It's been fairly constant that when a gay priest is accepted in the average parish, a number—sometimes a goodly number—of parishioners walk.”

“So let them walk.”

“Easy enough for us to say. But there's been a steady drop in attendance and membership in the Church. For reasons as diverse as gay pastors to the changes in the Book of Common Prayer.

“To try to sum this up, there is an element of risk in what we face. Not completely unlike that married couple we were talking about a little while ago.

“No matter how beautiful a marriage may be, there's always an element of risk. All of a sudden, a couple is asked to give up a lifestyle peculiar to the single state in favor of a radically different lifestyle peculiar to the married state.

“It's a gigantic leap. And it involves a risk. When you complicate that by one partner's having an alcoholic addiction, the risk increases tremendously.”

Sue rose from her chair and began to pace. “So what you're saying—what you want me to understand is that the bare bones of the priesthood is very demanding.”

“Exceptionally so.”

“Okay, I can see that. So are lots of other jobs. Police, firefighters, doctors, nurses—and most of the other service positions, as well as marriage and parenthood—all of them are demanding and involve risk.

“A cop straps on his weapon and walks out the door. He may never return. Same with firefighters. The special demands of living intimately with another person or having the responsibility of nurturing a child—all of that involves risk—”

“And now you're going to tell me that people accept these risks, most of them successfully.”

“Yes.”

“But I'm trying to tell you that our case is different. Our problems multiply because we are gay. Just being as we are might not carry too heavy a burden were we to occupy almost any position in life excepting the priesthood. Remember: Self-righteous parishioners reject the entire ministry of a person, no matter how much dedication and special talent, just because his or her orientation is different.”

Sue stood still and faced Alice. “Yes, I understand all that. But I submit that for what we will gain, we can accept all the challenges they can throw at us. Alice, sweet, how many chances will life give us to find the perfect partner? You and I, we've got that now. We can't let it slip away.”

Minutes passed in silence. Each woman tried to carefully pick the next direction of this brutally candid conversation.

Finally, Sue spoke again. “So far, just about all the negative things you've said involved the consequences should we come out of the closet. We've talked about marriage and we've talked about being open for all to see.

“We've talked about the bishop's reaction. We've talked about parishioners. I take it it's pretty well certain that some of your prospective congregation would leave the parish if not the Church. And that's a consideration the bishop would have to deal with.

“Now …” Sue began pacing again, this time more slowly and deliberately. “ … now let's suppose that we go right back to the beginning—”

“The beginning?”

“To just after you came in the door a little while ago.”

“Oh … okay.”

“Your proposition was that you stay in Detroit for as long as you're needed, while I return to Dallas.”

Alice nodded.

“The unfairness of that is what set me off: Why should you be forced to shoulder this burden by yourself when I could be here to help you?

“What I propose now, dear, is a return to the status quo. I'll go back to Dallas tomorrow. We'll keep in touch by phone until you return. And after that we go back in the closet and stay there to the best of our ability.”

Another long silence.

“The best of our ability,” Alice said slowly, “may not be enough.”

“What can you mean? Not being pushy, keeping our distance, respecting the sensibilities of others—even if they are modern-day Pharisees—should be enough for any bishop or parishioner.