The Glance - 7. Chapter 7

The Glance – rev. 7

Jeff drove home quietly, thinking hard about what John had told him, and trying to think of what this could mean for him, and for all the gay and lesbian clergy of the diocese. His mind was in a whirl, too many thoughts – and memories – swirling around in there. He knew that he was a bit jealous, maybe a lot jealous, but that couldn’t sway him now. His mind kept returning to his own seminary experience. He remembered that first day, looking around in class, trying to find a seat. All those strangers suddenly gathered. Maybe it was like any other first day, but somehow it had felt different. They were all there to “serve” God, all feeling called to the priesthood, all sharing that same bond – and all strangers to each other. A seat had been open beside one other young man, so he had taken it. They’d introduced themselves and started chatting, waiting for the professor to come in. And by the end of the class, they’d become friends. Kismet, fate, serendipity, God’s Will, whatever you wanted to call it, their meeting had begun a life-long friendship. Well, he smiled to himself; it was more than a friendship. And that very fact was bittersweet.

As their friendship had deepened during the first semester, they found themselves spending more and more time together, enjoying each other’s company, laughing, having fun together. One of their classmates had jokingly referred to their going out on a date – and Jeff had realized that it was one. He’d never thought about it before. He just knew that he really enjoyed being with his friend. But he knew, with an awful, sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach, that their friend had been right – it was a date, with all that implied. Now what?

He’d wrestled with that growing knowledge, not just about their relationship, but about himself, too. He’d grown distant, and finally his friend had cornered him one evening, coming into his room and closing the door. He’d wanted to know what was wrong, and Jeff had found himself uncharacteristingly tongue-tied. He, known in his class for his way with words, couldn’t find any. His friend had leaned in and kissed him. “It’s OK, Jeff, I know,” he’d said, “I know. We love each other, and even more than that, we’re in love with each other. It’s OK.”

The relationship had deepened and blossomed over the next two years, and then suddenly they were facing graduation and ordination. Reluctantly they had let each other go so that they could be ordained and move on into their vocations as priests. Back then there was no possibility for two men to live together and be in the ministry. It just wasn’t even a thought. And now? Well, now they lived a thousand miles apart, they saw each other for vacations and some holidays, and they suffered. There was no Brokeback Mountain for priests! He laughed at himself, maybe he should write a screen play about Broken Altars? He laughed again, and an idea began forming itself in his mind.

Once home, he spent the next hour on the phone, arranging a meeting with his friends and colleagues. Maybe there was something they could do.

The house sparkled with cleanliness, a faint hint of pine in the air. The wood gleamed, the antiques glowed, and all the people moving around the rooms were having a good time. When everyone had a drink, and when all the canapés were gone, Jeff clinked his glass.

“Please come and sit down, friends.” When they were all seated, he started again, “Dearly beloved, we are gathered here together…” and laughter erupted around the room as they all recognized the opening words of the marriage service. “Friends, we all know each other, and we all know that everyone in this room is gay or lesbian. That’s why I invited you all here this evening. This, brothers and sisters, is the inaugural meeting of the Gay and Lesbian Clergy Caucus of the diocese. Let me tell you what’s going on.”

Jeff told them about John and Chuck. He told them about John’s decision to come out to the bishop, and he reminded them about their own stories – he knew them all. He invited them to look around and begin sharing some of their own lives with each other. There had been some surprise in the room, not everyone had been out to everyone else. Yet, they had all known that they were no alone. The evening deepened as they shared their stories, as they found support from the other people in the room, and a feeling began to grow that they needed to do ‘something.’ Jeff put words to that feeling.

“We need to do something, don’t we?” he asked. “We need not just to help John but to help ourselves. Maybe it’s time that we all came out, together, to the bishop.”

Stunned silence greeted those words. What could he be thinking? What had he been drinking? Come out to the bishop! All of them! No, it wasn’t possible – they chattered back and forth, interjecting, interrupting each other, and slowly a consensus grew in the room. Maybe, just maybe they could do that very thing – come out to the bishop. One priest asked the question that was on everyone’s mind, “What about our parishes?”

Jeff answered, “Maybe we’re not ready to tell our parishes yet, though my guess is that several of them already know and just don’t want to hear it. You know, the ecclesiastical version of ‘don’t ask, don’t tell.’ Eventually we’re going to have to cross that bridge, too. But for the moment all we’re talking about is seeing the bishop together and laying it in front of him. Are we ready to do that?”

Not everyone was ready, there were several who demurred. But everyone was ready to go home and think about it. Jeff invited them all back next week. Together, maybe they could come to a consensus and figure out a plan of action for the next step. He chatted with everyone as they left, one by one, picking up their coats from the hall closet. Jeff wandered around afterwards, cleaning up the house and putting things away. He was thoughtful, wondering about what he had just done. Sure, they all knew each other, and yes, they were all gay or lesbian. But this was a big step, a very big step. Going to the bishop together meant that the bishop had to take notice of them. He had been supportive on a personal level for a long time, but was he ready to deal with all of them together? Only time would tell.

The week went by quickly; thoughts of the meeting were never far from his conscious mind. He wondered. Would everyone come through? Would they have to protect some of the brothers and sisters from exposure? How would the bishop deal with this? How would the diocese deal with it? Thoughts simply went around and around inside his head. It was hard to concentrate.

Finally the week was over. Everyone came back, plus a couple of people he had not originally invited. He was discovering that he hadn’t known all the gays and lesbians in the diocese. He wasn’t sure whether to be complimented that they had come, or annoyed that he hadn’t been able to spot them. Oh well, it was a big diocese.

One of the older priests started, “Jeff, we’ve all been talking, and certainly I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about John, and about your idea. It’s audacious, you know. Maybe it really is time to let the bishop know about all of us. I’ve got to tell you that I’m nervous about this, I’ve spent most of my life in the closet, but perhaps there’s safety in numbers. So, count me in.”

The others in the room nodded their heads, one by one. Consensus had happened. Every priest in the diocese, male and female, black and white, gay or lesbian, had decided that it was time to come out. Boy was the bishop in for a surprise!

“Then I guess I’d better get an appointment for us to meet with the bishop. Can I suggest that I invite him here? I’m not quite ready for all of us to come out to the whole diocese yet. If he comes here and we meet with him together, then there’s still a little bit of cover for us. Is that OK with you all?”

Everyone nodded again, and a somber and serious meeting quickly became a celebration. Wine and cheese went around the room, people started chatting energetically with each other, laughter erupted in little corners as people shared jokes. If you didn’t know, it looked like any other cocktail party anywhere else in the city – a group of well-dressed men and women standing around with glasses and chatting with each other. Who would guess that they were all clergy, and all gay or lesbian?

To an outside observer the body language was obvious. They were not having a good time, two well-dressed men, sitting at an outside table at a downtown café, glaring at each other. Something had gone wrong.

“Jeff, I just can’t believe you did that without telling me!” John was angry, his voice furious even though held down quietly to just their table. “How could you do that?”

“John, I’m your best friend. But I’m also involved in this, and it’s time. It’s time that the bishop knew just how many of his clergy are gay and lesbian, and it’s time that he began to deal with that. Sure, he’s been a good guy in a ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ kind of way. But, it’s time to move further than that. And this is one way to do it.”

“But Jeff, it’s my decision whether to tell him or not. You can’t just out me like that!”

“Hey, I’m not outing you. I’m asking you to join the rest of us. It’s your decision, John. Sure, your relationship and your thinking about going to the bishop yourself kind of pushed me. But I think it’s time for all of us to come out together, and for all of us to confront the bishop together. There’s some safety in numbers. What’s he going to do, fire the bunch of us? Sure, then he’d have a 25% vacancy in his diocese with some of the major parishes suddenly without their clergy and with no good reason for it. Anyway, he can’t fire us, you know that. Canon Law protects us unless there is cause.”

“But that’s just it, Jeff, you’ve now given him ‘cause.’ All of a sudden he’s going to find out just how many gays and lesbian he’s got amongst his clergy, even if some of us are married. And then he can fire the bunch of us.”

“No, he can’t. Calm down, John. There’s just too many of us. Be reasonable, it would gut the diocese and cause major problems for him on the national level, too. Does he, one of the great liberals of the Church, suddenly want be seen as a reactionary conservative? No way. Calm down and drink some more coffee, or do you want something stronger?”

John fumed as he drank some more coffee. Slowly he began to see the humor of the situation. Here he was, thinking about outing himself to the bishop because he’d fallen in love, and now Jeff was planning on doing it for him, along with twenty other gay and lesbian clergy. Was he angry that his thunder was being stolen, angry because he’d lost control of the situation? What was really going on? He sat back in the chair and looked at his best friend, toying with the coffee cup.

“OK. When were you planning on this huge coming out party? And, do you want ‘spouses’ along as well?”

“No. I don’t think that would be good. It’s going to be tough enough for the bishop just with all of us. I just don’t think he’s ready to meet our significant others, even if I don’t have one! I’ll call him right now and set it up.”

Jeff pulled out his cell phone and speed-dialed the diocese. “Hi, this is Fr. Keegan, is the bishop available, please? Sure, I’ll wait.” A few seconds later, the bishop came on the line. “Bishop, this is Jeff...Yes, fine, thank you, how are you? ...Good, good, yes, the parish is fine, too… Bishop, I’m calling to invite you over to my place for a meeting… No, there’s no big problem, but there’s a small group of clergy who would like to meet with you, and I think it’s better if we do it at my place rather than coming downtown… I don’t really think I can tell you what it’s about right now… no, we’re not planning on pulling some parishes out of the diocese, far from it… but there’s an issue which we would like your help with and we would just feel better meeting with you in private… thank you, bishop, that would be fine…I’ll confirm it with the others, but I’m sure that they’ll all be there… see you then.”

He put the phone away and looked up at John, “I think I got him nervous now. At this point in time, with so much going on in the church, he’s always a bit worried when a “group” of clergy want to meet with him. Can you blame him?”

“OK, then I need to tell Chuck what’s going on and I’ll see you at the meeting. When is it, by the way?”

“Two weeks, you know how tough his schedule can be, but he’ll meet with all of us in two weeks at my place. I’ll tell everyone else. Now, let’s plan the menu …” And the two old friends leaned across the table and began to laugh again, enjoying planning a menu just as they had so often in the past. This time it would be for one of the most important meetings of their lives, but it would still have really, really good food.

* * * * *

The living room was a sea of roiling black with little wave caps of white around each neck; the clergy were waiting for their bishop. The late afternoon sun cast dark shadows on the walls. The conversation was animated, some might say frenetic, as they chatted away with each other, balancing cups of tea or wine glasses filled with red, white or pink, bubbly or not, small sandwiches and cookies filled the rims of the tea cups, or were carefully balanced on napkin-decorated laps. They were waiting for the bishop. This would be an important meeting, a momentous meeting, a possibly dangerous meeting, and they were nervous, each one trying to deal with their nerves in their own unique ways, some talking, some laughing at jokes, some sitting quietly in corners. There was a kind of grim determination under all the nervous energy. They were waiting for the bishop.

The doorbell rang, all talk stopped in the middle of sentences, middle of words, middle of thought, as each head turned to look at the door. The room was suspended. The door opened and it was just another of the clergy. The noise level quickly rose again, got louder as if they were saying that they weren’t nervous, weren’t waiting for one man to come in the door. The doorbell rang again, and quiet settled on the room. The bishop walked in, everyone turned like sunflowers turning to face the light as each person focused on the bishop.

“Welcome, welcome, bishop. Come right in. It’s after four, can I get you something to drink, or would you prefer tea?” Jeff worked hard to be his normal, gushy and hospitable self, but he, too, felt the nervous tension.

“Tea would be fine, Jeff, thank you.” The bishop walked into the living room, shaking hands, exchanging pleasantries, working the room just like any other very successful politician, making sure that everyone had a moment of his time and focus. Jeff hurried back with a cup of tea, a little milk and sugar, just the way the bishop liked it, trust Jeff to keep that knowledge hidden somewhere in his brain.

”Bishop, please take a seat.” The bishop sat.

“Bishop, without further ado, and noting that you don’t know why we’re meeting with you and that my brothers and sisters are nervous about all this, bishop, may I present to you your gay and lesbian clergy?”

Silence descended on the room. The bishop slowly looked around, noting everyone, stopping on a few faces with a quizzical look in his eye. Each person so singled out nodded their head, or smiled back at him, letting him know that ‘yes, they, too were gay or lesbian.’ The silence stretched on as the bishop finished looking around; the china cup tinkled as he spent time stirring his already well-stirred tea. He looked up.

“I’m surprised. I know all of you, and certainly, I’ve known or guessed about some of you, but not all. I would never have guessed about some of you at all. I know some of you are married. And I’m not sure what it means that you’ve now told me you’re gay or lesbian. But, all that aside, (and here he paused and took a breath) I’m very glad to meet you all. I can only guess at how hard this is for some of you – to come out in public, and to come out to me, your bishop. So, let me say something right now – none of your jobs is at risk because of what you’ve shared with me today. I hope that will take some of the anxiety out of the air.(He paused again, looking down at the floor for a few seconds, and then up again, letting his eyes go around the room, looking into each person’s face.) Now, let me ask, why have you decided to tell me this today?”

Now it was the turn of the clergy gathered together to pause, to look down and then to look at each other, someone would have to speak. Jeff took a breath.

“Bishop, we think it’s time that you knew just how many gay and lesbian clergy there are in this diocese – and this diocese isn’t unusual. There’s been a lot of talk floating around the church about ‘those gay people’ and we want to make it personal – that’s us who are being talked about. If this diocese is going to move forward, then you need to know who you’re talking about. We’re all gay or lesbian. As you know, some of us are married; they will speak with you about their circumstances. Some of us are celibate by choice, some by misfortune (laughter rippled around the room). Some of us are in committed relationships. We don’t want to hide any more (this time, nods rippled around the room.) But we love the church, and we’re torn; how can we be true to ourselves and still be supportive sons and daughters of Mother Church?”

John spoke up, “Bishop, I’m in a new relationship. I’m tired of hiding from everyone and I want to continue being a priest. How can I do that? How can I speak of integrity and truth to the congregation, and still hide the deepest parts of myself? Where is truth in that?”

An older priest, white-haired, spoke up, “Bishop, I’ve known you all your life. I was one of your mentors. I’m proud of who you’ve become and of the leadership that you’re showing in this diocese. But Mike, and I’m going to take that liberty, Mike, I’ve never been able to tell you who I am – and all these years in the parish, I’ve had to hide. I don’t want to hide anymore.”

Tears rolled silently down his face as he spoke. Hands reached out to him, patting him on the back, giving him what comfort they could. The bishop looked at this old priest who had been so important to him all during his life, and he got up. He walked over, put his arms around him, and hugged him, hard, trying through his touch to let George know that he was still loved. George allowed the hug, and then slowly hugged the bishop back, sobs beginning to break through as years of grief and pain began to come out. As the bishop looked up over George’s back, he saw more tears rolling down faces, and he began to understand just how much had been asked of these dedicated servants of God over the years. He saw their love and dedication; he saw their pain and began to feel their loneliness. And he was overcome; tears began to roll down his face, too. How could he minister pastorally to these men and women; how could he hold his diocese together?

* * * * *

The Bishop got home later than he'd intended. When he walked in his front door, it was obvious to his wife that the meeting had been difficult.

"Do you want a glass of wine," she asked.

"Yes," he answered.

She brought it to him as he sat down in the family room, tired, wrung out from all the emotion of that afternoon. Shr brought herself one, too, and sat beside him on the couch.

"Can I rub your feet?"

"No, not yet. I'm still too tired."

"Tell me about it, if you want."

"It was a meeting of the gay and lesbian clergy of the diocese. They wanted to introduce themselves to me. Of course, I knew them all. I've been here for twenty years, but now they were being open about who they were, and it was pretty tough. There were the obvious ones I would have guessed about, and a lot of others I would never have known. And there were the ones I wondered about, too. I'm sure there are still some others who were too scared to come to the meeting, or who just couldn't break away from their parish responsibilities, but there were a lot of people there. It was tough. These were men and women I've known for many years, good priests, people I've served with, people I've looked up to, and they've hidden all these years. It was just heart-breaking."

"Were you surprised?"

"Oh sure. As I said, there were some I would never have guessed. But, it was the pain that was most surprising, shocking really. Can you imagine the irony, 'You will know the truth, and the truth will set you free' and yet these people have had to hide all these years ... preaching and teaching about truth and authenticity and too scared to reveal themselves. I listened after they dropped the bomb-shell as they told me stories, one after another, of what it had been like during seminary, or during the early years in the parish; how lonely it was. And the younger ones told me how difficult it was to 'go back into the closet' as they put it because they wanted to serve the Church. It was just heart=breaking. These are good people, people we've driven to desperation. And now, they want out..." his voice trailed off.

"What are you going to do," she asked.

"I don't know. I can't stand by and just let them continue to suffer. And I know that when they come out into the open, I'm going to have a royal mess on my hands. I don't know. How can I minister to everyone, how can I lead this diocese through this?"

She reached out and took his hand, "Mike, I've stood by you all these years. You know what we've gone through and I've been there. I think that's been pretty helpful for you."

He interrupted urgently, "Of course it has. I couldn't have done it without you."

"Mike, who have they got? Who is there to hold their hands? Who holds them at night when they cry about the parishioner who died, or the couple who is breaking up, or the teenager who committed suicide? Who is there to laugh with them and celebrate when the new baby is baptized, or that young couple comes in for marriage, or the person suddenly comes to know Christ and gets turned on? Who is there for them?"

The questions hung in the air between them, as they held hands. Tears began running down both their faces as their memories went back over the years, and they remembered the bad times and the good times. They knew how important that support had been, for both of them. The enormity of the isolation under which their gay and lesbian brothers and sisters had been forced to operate began to become real for both of them.

"Mike, you're the bishop. You've been a strong support for gays and lesbians for years now. I guess the chickens have come to roost. Now they're looking to you for support. These people are your parish now' you're their pastor. What else can you do but support them, help them, pastor them, and try to lead the rest of the diocese forwards as well?"

"I guess there's not much choice, is there. 'The buck stops here,' doesn't it? I've got to figure out a way to be true to them, to be their pastor, and to continue to be a pastor to everyone else, too."

He smiled wryly, "You realize there are going to be some pretty annoyed people out there, don't you? The phone is going to be pretty busy. Are you ready for that?"

"Yes. We're in this together. I'll handle the homefront and the telephone here, you take care of the office and the diocese." Her voice had firmed up, she knew where her priorities lay.

"Yes, sir," he laughed. "Oh, I'm already sorry for whoever gets you on the phone!"

They cuddled on the couch, slowly drinking their wine, each lost in their own thoughts, but already turned towards solving the situation which had been handed to them.

* * * * *

John sat cuddled with Chuck on his living room couch. They, too, were sipping wine together. Chuck had his arms around John, supporting him with his body, John's head tucked back against Chuck's shoulder. It was one of their favorite positions, close, cuddled, warm, safe. Right now, John needed to feel safe. It had been a tough evening. All the emotion had taken its toll of him, not too mention his own personal emotions. He felt exhausted, drained.

"It was overwhelming, Chuck. All those other priests gathered together and facing the Bishop. We were so scared. We could all have lost our jobs, and then where would we be?"

"But John, haven't you told me how liberal and caring this bishop is? Do you really believe that he would have fired you all on the spot?"

"No, of course not. Intellectually you're absolutely right, but deep down in my guts I was really scared. I'm still scared."

"It's OK, John. I'm here. It took a lot of courage to do what you people did. It was kind of like facing the principal, wasn't it?"

"Yes! That's an awful lot of how it felt. Facing the principal, even when you knew you hadn't done anything wrong, but you just weren't sure if he knew that."

"So, what comes next?"

"I'm not sure. I guess I need to figure out how to tell the parish...," John trailed off into silence, his eyes focused on the distance as his fingers played with the wine glass.

"John, why do you need to tell the parish?"

John's fingers stopped their twirling. He looked down at the wine glass, and then turned his head to look back at Chuck. Chuck craned his head around and looked at Jim, waiting. After a few moments, Jim began to speak.

"Chuck, you're absolutely right. Why do I 'need' to tell the parish? Well, let me explain. First, I need to live my life with integrity and honesty. Hiding who I am isn't honest and doesn't have integrity. Second, I'm in love with you. I want to celebrate that. I want others to celebrate that with us, and I can't do that if I'm hiding. Third, well, third, I want you to move in with me, and we can't do that if I'm still hiding. It'll just be too complicated and too nerve-wracking."

"John, I'm in love with you, too. But you already know that. I love you." He leaned down and kissed John, hard, tongues reaching out to each other and playing. "Yes, I love you. It sounded to me as if you were, dare I say it, proposing to me. Are you?"

John got up, put down the wine glass, and turned around. He pulled Chuck up so that they were both standing together. "Chuck, will you move in with me? Will you come and share your life with me?"

"Absolutely yes! Now, let's go celebrate, or is that consumate?" And he leaned down and scooped John up into his arms and carried him off to the bedroom, to consumate their celebration.

* * * * *

Jeff walked around his home, picking up trash and putting it into a garbage bag. He shook his head at all the mess still left around the room. He had a rythmn, first the paper garbage, then he would pick up all the glasses and take them to the dishwasher and fill the top shelf, then the dishes to be scraped into the 'insinkerator' and then stacked on the lower shelf of the dishwasher. Once the dishwasher was loaded, he would start it up, and then as it cycled through he would go back and finish cleaning up. He hummed quietly to himself, some of the old hymns that he had grown up with. Somehow they were comforting. It had been a tough evening. He loved to entertain but he wasn't sure that he wanted to do this again any time soon. There had been just too much emotion flowing, literally, around that room.

He felt good, though. It had been good to get all those people together in one room. It was amusing how some of them hadn't even known about each other. Gaydar! Ha! Sure, it sometimes worked when you were cruising, but infallible, absolutely not! Not even the pope was infallible, at least not from an Anglican point of view. Yeah, yeah, he thought to himself, so that's an in-joke for Anglicans. He thought it might have been the first time that some of the guys realized that some of the women were lesbian. So that had been good, too. It began to create a network, a sort of coalition. And they were going to need all the support they could get.

The Bishop had taken it well. He had hoped that he would, but it had been a risk. It might have just been too much for the guy -- all those people being gay. Who would have thought? Well, he did, of course, 'cause he knew all these people. Would the Bishop support them now? He thought some of them might begin to make noise about coming out to their parishes. Oh boy, that was going to be tough. If the Bishop was supportive maybe they could find a way to do it together...he needed to think, how could they coordinate this, how make it effective. Oh, he did love it when a plan came together, and he hoped this one would.