In this clip, Kellie Fiedorek says something common-sense that seems to be missing in today’s discourse. The virtue of tolerance is precisely the virtue of “putting up with” someone or something that is not good (from your perspective). You don’t “tolerate” an ice cream sundae; You don’t “tolerate” your closest friend, unless at that moment they are doing that thing that drives you crazy. Tolerance is part of love, but only because we live in such an imperfect world. We will not have to “tolerate” one another in heaven.
But today, it seems we cannot even do that. The Church’s beliefs about marriage and about the best home for children is being regarded as hateful or discriminatory. (A big thank you to those states who have passed laws to protect religious adoption and foster care agencies!)
As Pope Benedict XVI pointed out, “In the name of tolerance, tolerance is being abolished.” He speaks of how the Church is being prevented from being herself, “and that, instead, an abstract, negative religion is being made into a tyrannical standard that everyone must follow.”
Don’t we see this happening today in America?
 Benedict XVI. Light of the World. (San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 2010), p. 53.
 Ibid, p. 52.
At the June 2017 General Assembly, the USCCB approved the continuation of the Ad Hoc Committee on Religious Liberty to a permanent standing committee. This demonstrates the bishops’ commitment and the Church’s investment in assuring religious freedom for all people in America.
As Ryan Anderson points out, Americans tend not to value rights that they do not exercise. It is probably not too much of a leap to guess that the “elites” in America (celebrities, media personnel, politicians, CEO’s) are not that interested in religion, and therefore in religious freedom, especially its expression in the public square.
For this reason, it’s even more important for lay people in the Church to make it clear to their representatives and others that religious freedom is important to them. This is an issue that lay people must be engaged in, since the clergy enjoys more leeway because of their “official” ministerial positions, and could more easily be dismissed as not representative of “normal people.”
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Scientific evidence continues to demonstrate that men and women are different in thousands of ways. Biological differences, which are never only biological, since we are composite beings of body and soul, affect men and women in myriad ways. A recent article out of Stanford Medical School enumerates a few of the neurological differences between male and female brains and the corresponding behavioral differences and susceptibilities to various disorders.
We are called to value our differences, not ignore or negate them. As Pope Francis said, “For example, I ask myself, if the so-called gender theory is not, at the same time, an expression of frustration and resignation, which seeks to cancel out sexual difference because it no longer knows how to confront it. Yes, we risk taking a step backwards. The removal of difference in fact creates a problem, not a solution” (General Audience on Man and Woman, April 15, 2015).
Why I Don’t Call Myself Gay: How I Reclaimed My Sexual Reality and Found Peace
by Daniel C. Mattson
Review by Sara Perla
At the end of this book, which is part memoir, part theological and philosophical discourse, Daniel Mattson quotes Thomas Merton: “[God’s] glory in me will be to receive from me something He can never receive from anyone else—because it is a gift of His to me which He has never given to anyone else & never will.” Mattson has certainly given God glory by giving the Church this book that dispels both the caricatures of “LGBT” people and simplistic thinking about Church teaching on human sexuality.
This is the book that the Church has needed for some time: the story of a witness. As Pope Paul VI put it, “Modern man listens more willingly to witnesses than to teachers, and if he does listen to teachers, it is because they are witnesses” (Evangeli Nuntiandi, 1975). Mattson fulfills the role of a teacher who is a witness.
Let’s start with the bold title: Why I Don’t Call Myself Gay. The title engages the debate that is occurring within the Church about the acceptance or use of commonly-accepted labels: lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender. The discussion usually involves people who do not experience same-sex attraction or sexual identity incongruence; these people are debating whether to call other people by labels that designate those people’s sexual attractions or gender identities. On one side, the argument is that using the label the person chooses is a sign of respect; on the other, the argument is that the label does not do justice to the person who chooses it, defining them by an experience that should not be self-defining. In this book, we have the entrance into the debate of someone who, by experience, has more of a stake in the question, but answers it differently and offers a reasoned argument for his position. He spends a whole chapter on this (p. 127- 140), exploring the way that labeling a person as “a homosexual” or “gay” emerged in a concrete historical context and with clear aims of conflating action and identity. This chapter deserves a careful read.
The first section of the book, which is also the longest, consists of Mattson’s personal story of wounds, confusion, experimentation, sexual activity, love, heartbreak, and conversion. “A well-done and useful testimonial is like a parable,” notes Fr. Paul Check in the introduction. Mattson’s story is like this. It is perhaps more complicated than we are comfortable with, especially since it involves a relationship with a woman amid continuing same-sex attractions—but isn’t real life always more complicated than we expect? The frankness of the telling, including sections from his journals, is refreshing.
The second section is about reclaiming the reality that men and women were made “for each other,” in relation to one another, and that is the true identity of each one of us—male and female, in the image of God. The third section includes practical advice and stories from Mattson’s experience of “running the race” of chastity. This section would be pertinent and helpful to anyone who seeks to live this virtue according to their state in life, but particularly to single people who are called to sexual abstinence. He includes the temptations to pornography and masturbation here and the way that the saints can help us to persevere.
Part Four is the most philosophical and theological section, going into the “why” of Church teaching and how these “hard sayings” can lead to freedom. Especially helpful is Mattson’s discussion of the term “disordered” as used in the Catechism for acts or inclinations (p. 209-232). In this section, Mattson also discusses “disinterested friendship” and dispels the false notion that this means that friends do not care if their friendship is reciprocated; it simply means that it is not self-seeking. Friendship seems to be in a sort of crisis these days, and this chapter is important for everyone. Friendship is an essential element of happiness, and too often today is it seen as “less than” a romantic relationship or a “consolation prize” for those who are not married. Mattson points out that even the ancient philosophers (particularly Aristotle) understood that the bond of friendship is a gift. This chapter may also help parents to form their children in the habits of friendship, starting with those basic lessons of sharing and taking turns to encouraging friendships to open and include new people. Learning friendship in this way as a child may help to prevent some of the struggles that Mattson worked through as an adult.
Finally, the last section is devoted to “The Most Important Things.” These are, in Mattson’s estimation, the virtues of humility and magnanimity, and the sure knowledge of one’s being beloved of God.
Why I Don’t Call Myself Gay should be required reading for the “people in the pews,” especially those younger Catholics who have been formed in a culture that uses “gay” casually. It is eminently readable, chock full of quotes from diverse sources, and bravely stands up against the pressure to conform to this age.
In this clip, Kelli Wild speaks about her work with couples who choose to entrust their children to the adoption process. She says that it is not an easy path, and that it must be “laced in love.”
It may not be possible for someone who has never gone through it to truly understand a woman’s experience when she gives her child to another couple to raise, but empathy can go a long way.
One of the things that we can learn to do as a culture is to honor this choice and to be conscious of our language about it. The phrase that was traditionally used was that a woman “gave up” her baby to adoption, while the phrase that perhaps better captures the truth is that she “gave her baby to” a couple to raise, when she knew that she was not able to do so. That is an expression of the authentic love of a mother—willing to bear all the uncomfortable and painful moments of pregnancy and birth for the sake of her child, even though she will not enjoy the consolation of their smiles, giggles, or “I love you, mom” in future years.
While we should always support a woman who is committed to mothering her child on her own, if the circumstances demand it, we should also rightly honor the gift a birth mother gives when she chooses adoption.