All you need is love, the Pope agrees (as did the Beatles)
With Pope Francis’ declaration that allows the Church to bless couples in “irregular situations”, queer laity around the world have won a hard-fought acceptance
The week began with a historic shift for the Church. On December 18, Pope Francis, the spiritual leader of over 1.3 billion Catholics — a sixth of the Earth’s population — granted approval to priests to bless same-sex couples on request. In a declaration entitled Fiducia Supplicans (Supplicating Trust), the Pope permitted the blessings of “couples in irregular situations”, including unmarried heterosexual and queer couples, as long as such blessings were not imparted in ritual form, or offered the impression of a marriage ceremony. The Vatican took pains to underscore this latter point, clarifying that priests should not bestow such blessings in concurrence or in connection with a secular wedding. While the Pope’s extempore words and actions throughout his papacy have continually extended dignity to queer Catholics, a ‘declaration’ document from the Holy See carries a greater burden of authority. Such declarations are often published when a modification of Church law or practice occurs and were used extensively during the Second Vatican Council (1962-65), which significantly transformed Catholicism’s approach to the modern world. However, even with its caveats, the recent declaration turns the Church’s public emphasis towards empathy, inclusivity and compassion towards all, effectively turning away from condemning queer couples as sinful.
The Pope’s consent to blessings of queer couples is the latest in his intensified efforts to retain queer Catholics under his pastoral care and circumscribe discrimination within the Church. In 2013, in his first interaction with the media during his tenure, he spoke against the marginalisation of queer people, stating in now famous words, “If someone is gay and is searching for the Lord and has good will, then who am I to judge him?”
A year before his papacy began, Barbara Johnson, a lesbian Catholic in Maryland, United States, was denied communion at her mother’s funeral by a homophobic priest, who left the altar while she delivered the eulogy, and did not attend the burial. This is merely one example of the ecclesiastic decay that Francis’ determined compassion has attempted to halt.
Unlike his predecessors, the Popes John Paul II and Benedict XVI, Francis’ decade-long papacy has initiated a dialogue on themes deemed controversial by traditionalists: priestly celibacy, ordination of women, and the extension of full communion to divorced Catholics who have remarried. The Pope expressed sorrow, indignation, and shame at the historical abuse of indigenous Canadian children forced to study in Catholic residential schools and has indicated a willingness to cooperate with law enforcement in cases of child sexual abuse, where the perpetrator is a member of the clergy. He has also spoken out about the plight of refugees. In August, in a private meeting with fellow Jesuits in Lisbon, he spoke of the “backwardness” of some conservative Catholic clerics, which promoted a climate of closure. This, Francis cautioned, led to the loss of “true tradition”, prompting a dependence upon ideology. “In other words, ideologies replace faith.”
Some queer historians like John Boswell have offered evidence that complicates what may be viewed as “true tradition” itself, positing an alternative to the presumption that the blessings that Pope Francis has now sanctioned are antithetical to Church history. Boswell suggested that medieval Christian rituals like adelphopoiesis, in which two men were blessed as brothers, indicate a legacy in which at least some same-sex blessings were viewed as admissible by the Church. Medievalists have debated the meaning of such rituals during a time before the 13th century when Christianity did not view marriage as a sacrament.
Pope Francis’ endorsement of spiritual aid to queer couples may be seen as the latest affirmation of his personal mission to evolve Catholicism out of a conservative outlook. In Ireland in 2018, Francis counselled parents against disowning their queer children, suggesting they were obligated to raise them within loving families. Earlier this year, the Pope also remarked that laws criminalising queer people were an injustice and a sin because God loves and accompanies people with same-sex attraction. Much like the declaration of blessings, this continual advocacy for queer people represents a unique kindness towards the marginalised that Francis has made a centrepiece of his papacy. It does not modify Church teaching that same-sex acts are “intrinsically disordered”, but it accords primacy to “respect, compassion and sensitivity” when it engages with queer people. As he proposed in the 2016 document Amoris Laetitia, “Every person regardless of sexual orientation, ought to be respected in his or her dignity and treated with consideration.”
Pope Francis’ defence of queer dignity comes at a moment of great crisis for the Church, with the number of Catholics who identify as a member of a parish in steep decline. In Germany, with around 21 million members, Catholicism has lost more than a tenth of its following — over 2.4 million adherents — in the last 10 years. A record 522,000 left the Catholic Church in Germany just last year. This March, Herbert Ullman, a priest in North Rhine-Westphalia held a “mass of blessing for all loving couples”, in which one queer couple participated along with 25 heterosexual ones. For his efforts at outreach to the underserved among the faithful through this service, Fr Ullman was reprimanded by Cardinal Rainer Maria Woelki, the conservative Archbishop of Cologne, an act that prompted a minor rebellion among progressive believers in the diocese.
In response, in September, several priests held a ceremony blessing around 30 queer and heterosexual couples outside Cologne Cathedral, the Archbishop’s seat, in what is Germany’s most populous diocese, with about 1.8 million members. The congregants, numbered in the hundreds, waved rainbow flags, and sang the Beatles’ song, ‘All you need is love’. This is the grassroots fervour for a pathway towards a more tolerant future among ordinary Catholics that Pope Francis appreciates deeply.
There remain, however, influential sections of the hierarchy that continue to oppose him publicly, whose power he has now begun to restrict. In October, Cardinal Raymond Burke, a longtime critic of Francis’ engagement with queer people, delivered a stinging rebuke to the Pope on his reform programme in Rome. Francis’ reaction was swift: he rescinded Burke’s privileges in Rome, including a subsidised Vatican apartment as well as his monthly stipend, possibly amounting to US$4,500.
For ordinary queer Catholics, Pope Francis’ declaration this Monday is hugely significant. On Friday, the Archdiocese of Shillong allowed priests to bless same-sex couples, in line with the Catholic Church's new policy. The statement issued by the Church authority in a Christian-dominated State, however, clarified that the blessings would not resemble ritual blessings but remain a "personal and spontaneous prayer".
London-based Ruby Almeida, who is a member of the global LGBT+ Catholics network, believes, “All same-sex couples of faith, who are in long-term, committed relationships can now get a blessing from a priest, for their love for each other to be acknowledged and to receive God’s blessing and grace in their lives. Same-sex couples who love their faith and love their Church only want it reciprocated.” When she met Pope Francis along with other queer Catholics in Rome in October, she made a unique request of the Holy Father: “Namaskar, Papa Francesco,” Almeida said, “please, may I hug you?” The Pope smiled and hugged her. “To receive that hug of love was the most affirming moment of my life. This sense of belonging is what same-sex couples yearn for from the Church that they love.” Those among us, who do not experience equality within Catholicism – queer people, divorcees, women who may never be ordained to the priesthood – who sit in the pews at the back of the Church, patiently await our turn.
Mario da Penha is a doctoral candidate in History at Rutgers University, writing his dissertation on hijras during the Maratha and early colonial rule in western India. He has worked in queer organizing and activism for over twenty years. While raised Catholic, and grounded in the Church, he is a freewheeling person of faith without a fixed creed.
The week began with a historic shift for the Church. On December 18, Pope Francis, the spiritual leader of over 1.3 billion Catholics — a sixth of the Earth’s population — granted approval to priests to bless same-sex couples on request. In a declaration entitled Fiducia Supplicans (Supplicating Trust), the Pope permitted the blessings of “couples in irregular situations”, including unmarried heterosexual and queer couples, as long as such blessings were not imparted in ritual form, or offered the impression of a marriage ceremony. The Vatican took pains to underscore this latter point, clarifying that priests should not bestow such blessings in concurrence or in connection with a secular wedding. While the Pope’s extempore words and actions throughout his papacy have continually extended dignity to queer Catholics, a ‘declaration’ document from the Holy See carries a greater burden of authority. Such declarations are often published when a modification of Church law or practice occurs and were used extensively during the Second Vatican Council (1962-65), which significantly transformed Catholicism’s approach to the modern world. However, even with its caveats, the recent declaration turns the Church’s public emphasis towards empathy, inclusivity and compassion towards all, effectively turning away from condemning queer couples as sinful.
The Pope’s consent to blessings of queer couples is the latest in his intensified efforts to retain queer Catholics under his pastoral care and circumscribe discrimination within the Church. In 2013, in his first interaction with the media during his tenure, he spoke against the marginalisation of queer people, stating in now famous words, “If someone is gay and is searching for the Lord and has good will, then who am I to judge him?”
A year before his papacy began, Barbara Johnson, a lesbian Catholic in Maryland, United States, was denied communion at her mother’s funeral by a homophobic priest, who left the altar while she delivered the eulogy, and did not attend the burial. This is merely one example of the ecclesiastic decay that Francis’ determined compassion has attempted to halt.
Unlike his predecessors, the Popes John Paul II and Benedict XVI, Francis’ decade-long papacy has initiated a dialogue on themes deemed controversial by traditionalists: priestly celibacy, ordination of women, and the extension of full communion to divorced Catholics who have remarried. The Pope expressed sorrow, indignation, and shame at the historical abuse of indigenous Canadian children forced to study in Catholic residential schools and has indicated a willingness to cooperate with law enforcement in cases of child sexual abuse, where the perpetrator is a member of the clergy. He has also spoken out about the plight of refugees. In August, in a private meeting with fellow Jesuits in Lisbon, he spoke of the “backwardness” of some conservative Catholic clerics, which promoted a climate of closure. This, Francis cautioned, led to the loss of “true tradition”, prompting a dependence upon ideology. “In other words, ideologies replace faith.”
Some queer historians like John Boswell have offered evidence that complicates what may be viewed as “true tradition” itself, positing an alternative to the presumption that the blessings that Pope Francis has now sanctioned are antithetical to Church history. Boswell suggested that medieval Christian rituals like adelphopoiesis, in which two men were blessed as brothers, indicate a legacy in which at least some same-sex blessings were viewed as admissible by the Church. Medievalists have debated the meaning of such rituals during a time before the 13th century when Christianity did not view marriage as a sacrament.
Pope Francis’ endorsement of spiritual aid to queer couples may be seen as the latest affirmation of his personal mission to evolve Catholicism out of a conservative outlook. In Ireland in 2018, Francis counselled parents against disowning their queer children, suggesting they were obligated to raise them within loving families. Earlier this year, the Pope also remarked that laws criminalising queer people were an injustice and a sin because God loves and accompanies people with same-sex attraction. Much like the declaration of blessings, this continual advocacy for queer people represents a unique kindness towards the marginalised that Francis has made a centrepiece of his papacy. It does not modify Church teaching that same-sex acts are “intrinsically disordered”, but it accords primacy to “respect, compassion and sensitivity” when it engages with queer people. As he proposed in the 2016 document Amoris Laetitia, “Every person regardless of sexual orientation, ought to be respected in his or her dignity and treated with consideration.”
Pope Francis’ defence of queer dignity comes at a moment of great crisis for the Church, with the number of Catholics who identify as a member of a parish in steep decline. In Germany, with around 21 million members, Catholicism has lost more than a tenth of its following — over 2.4 million adherents — in the last 10 years. A record 522,000 left the Catholic Church in Germany just last year. This March, Herbert Ullman, a priest in North Rhine-Westphalia held a “mass of blessing for all loving couples”, in which one queer couple participated along with 25 heterosexual ones. For his efforts at outreach to the underserved among the faithful through this service, Fr Ullman was reprimanded by Cardinal Rainer Maria Woelki, the conservative Archbishop of Cologne, an act that prompted a minor rebellion among progressive believers in the diocese.
In response, in September, several priests held a ceremony blessing around 30 queer and heterosexual couples outside Cologne Cathedral, the Archbishop’s seat, in what is Germany’s most populous diocese, with about 1.8 million members. The congregants, numbered in the hundreds, waved rainbow flags, and sang the Beatles’ song, ‘All you need is love’. This is the grassroots fervour for a pathway towards a more tolerant future among ordinary Catholics that Pope Francis appreciates deeply.
There remain, however, influential sections of the hierarchy that continue to oppose him publicly, whose power he has now begun to restrict. In October, Cardinal Raymond Burke, a longtime critic of Francis’ engagement with queer people, delivered a stinging rebuke to the Pope on his reform programme in Rome. Francis’ reaction was swift: he rescinded Burke’s privileges in Rome, including a subsidised Vatican apartment as well as his monthly stipend, possibly amounting to US$4,500.
For ordinary queer Catholics, Pope Francis’ declaration this Monday is hugely significant. On Friday, the Archdiocese of Shillong allowed priests to bless same-sex couples, in line with the Catholic Church's new policy. The statement issued by the Church authority in a Christian-dominated State, however, clarified that the blessings would not resemble ritual blessings but remain a "personal and spontaneous prayer".
London-based Ruby Almeida, who is a member of the global LGBT+ Catholics network, believes, “All same-sex couples of faith, who are in long-term, committed relationships can now get a blessing from a priest, for their love for each other to be acknowledged and to receive God’s blessing and grace in their lives. Same-sex couples who love their faith and love their Church only want it reciprocated.” When she met Pope Francis along with other queer Catholics in Rome in October, she made a unique request of the Holy Father: “Namaskar, Papa Francesco,” Almeida said, “please, may I hug you?” The Pope smiled and hugged her. “To receive that hug of love was the most affirming moment of my life. This sense of belonging is what same-sex couples yearn for from the Church that they love.” Those among us, who do not experience equality within Catholicism – queer people, divorcees, women who may never be ordained to the priesthood – who sit in the pews at the back of the Church, patiently await our turn.
Mario da Penha is a doctoral candidate in History at Rutgers University, writing his dissertation on hijras during the Maratha and early colonial rule in western India. He has worked in queer organizing and activism for over twenty years. While raised Catholic, and grounded in the Church, he is a freewheeling person of faith without a fixed creed.
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