After the loyalty oath is distributed,
who will be left to do God’s work?

© David Chartrand, 2006


    The Sunday Mass choir at my church often leads us in an opening hymn entitled, “All Are Welcome.”

   “All are welcome,” we sing, lustily. “All are welcome in this place.”

   The day may draw near when the composer is asked to change the lyric to: “All are welcome, in their place.”

   Maybe no one will notice. The Catholic liturgy has always been long on word recitation and short on textual comprehension. It doesn’t matter if we catch all the meanings. What matters is that we sing together in unison, if not always in harmony.

   But the tune turns sour as Catholics, along with our brothers and sisters in the Episcopal communion, attempt to resolve the homosexuality question by creating distinctions between faith and participation, communion and compliance. It makes me long for the good old days when we sang, “Jesus loves the little children, all little children of the world.” Apparently I never learned all the verses.

   The issue isn’t whether homosexual persons are loved by Jesus but whether they should be given “leadership” positions in the church. Needless to say, it’s easier to discuss membership rules than it is to argue the theology of bigotry and fear.
Let me give an example. If Jesus heard this one, he’d just die all over again.

   In my hometown, a Catholic pastor recently fired one of his choir leaders for refusing to renounce homosexuality. This popular music minister also directed a local gay men’s chorus that performed for pro-gay causes in the community. That’s the problem with sinners. They always want the same rights enjoyed by the rest of us.

   But the choir director wasn’t simply fired; he was first offered a deal. He could keep the music gig if he signed a Catholic loyalty pledge — a written declaration that he agreed with official church teachings. Not all its teachings, of course; just the one that defines homosexuality as a “disorder.” Be on the lookout for an updated edition of the Ten Commandments, called, “Disorders Are Sins, Too.”

   The choir leader refused. Over the protests of many in the congregation, he was canned.

   Not long after, I listened as a local Catholic bishop explained how this works. He was speaking on a live Sunday morning radio program, urging listeners — believers and non-believers, I assume — to vote against a local ballot initiative in support of stem cell research.

   The bishop’s explanation was matter of fact: Every club has rules. Companies impose rules on their employees; coaches have conduct codes for athletes; professional societies have ethics standards.

   A church has a right to dismiss a choir leader or anyone else, the bishop explained, on the basis of sexual orientation — or even their views on sexual orientation. The grounds: Noncompliance with church teaching. That there might be an arguable difference between a teaching and an admission requirement is beside the point. Unless you think it’s the entire point.

   Needless to say, church bishops face the same dilemma that confronts chief executives in all large and inert organizations. They must decide if they are guardians of systems or humans. Sadly, many choose to defend institutional rights at the risk of institutional relevance. Then, one day, they are sincerely stunned to discover that no one has much interest in a club that randomly chooses which requirements are really requirements and which ones are, well, ignored.

   The gay choir leader in my hometown was run out of the sanctuary not for being a homosexual but for refusing to reject homosexuality. (No word yet on whether his replacement was asked to do likewise.) One can only wonder which believers, and beliefs, are next.

   There’s no telling who will be around to manage churches if the long-suffering servants of Christ must sign affidavits of good behavior before signing up to lead Bible class, serve on parish councils, usher at Sunday Mass or volunteer in the babysitting co-op. Or attend seminary.

   As new priests become harder to recruit, and the old ones enter diversion programs for sexual predators, Catholic communities are more dependent then ever upon laypersons to carry the workload. God only knows how many of these do not comply with, let alone agree with, official Church teachings on homosexuality, premarital sex, abortion, the death penalty, attending Mass on Sunday, or stem cell research.

   How are the rest of us faithful followers supposed to know which leaders are the sinners and which ones have signed the loyalty pledge?

   I suppose we could ask for a show of hands, right after the choir finishes that welcome hymn.