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?