Mass movement.

When Cardinal Bernard Law, the

archbishop of Boston, broke

ground May 18 for McBride

House, built by Catholic Charities to

house people with AIDS, he prayed

that such relief measures, like the disease

itself, would one day be relegated

to the past. "May only the memory remain,"

he declared, "serving as a reminder

of his house's special purpose:

that there will always be those

who are homeless, who are strangers

in our midst, who are without the

love and support that every human

being needs."

Many in the audience of 200 saw

the event as building common ground

for Boston's gay and Catholic communities.

It had special meaning for Law

as well: The house was named for his

close friend Robert McBride, an openly

gay man who died of complications

from AIDS last year, yet less than two

weeks later, auxiliary bishop William

Murphy, who works under Law, fired

off an angry letter to local clergy demanding

that they not attend a convention,

to be held July 10-13 in

Boston, of Dignity/USA

because the gay Catholic

group, with 80 chapters

and 2,700 members nationwide, opposes "Catholic

moral teachings."

For gay and lesbian

Catholics, the letter

seemed to betray the

spirit of law's speech,

which many interpreted

as the offering of an olive branch. But

it was also a stark reminder of the

Catholic Church's often ambiguous attitude

toward homosexuality and

AIDS. Gay people are welcome in the

church, Law seemed to be saying, as

long as they keep quite and don't organize

politically.

Nonetheless, many gay and lesbian

Catholics are doing precisely that--and

in record numbers. For every gay

Catholic who, disgusted with the

seeming intransigence of the church's

hierarchy, has left the church, another

is working for full inclusion. "It's my

identity and so much a part of me,"

says Marianne Duddy, president of

Dignity. "every family event over the

years has been connected to the

church, setting a rhythm for my life. I

can't deny who I am."

Indeed, gay and lesbian organizations

at American Cathilicism's grassroots

level have been flourishing over

the past several years, and gay-friendly

parishes are springing up across the

country. The Jesuit Urban Center in

Boston is a case in point. Sunday Mass

there draws several hundred openly

gay Catholics, "My journey to the center

began about five years ago when a

friend invited me to come." says

Charles Martel, a social worker. "I discovered

a group of about 50 men and

women who clearly were there by

choice, not obligation. There was a joyfulness

in the celebration of the Eucharist--and

the preaching--that

spoke to me."

Yet many gay congregants retain and

abiding sense of anger at the church

even after they have returned to it. In

San Francisco the Rev. Zachary Shore,

pastor of Most Holy Redeemer Church,

located in the predominantly gay Castro

district, says of his congregation,

"Painful feelings are there when you

push the right buttons. I've run into

situations where a person will come to

me in confession and say, `Father, I

went to confession in another parish.

and when I announced that I was gay,

the priest told to come to you.'"

Many Catholics bristle at the notion

of a priest's refusing to hear confessions.

At least 30 dioceses nationwide

now take formal steps to ensure the

full inclusion of gay men and lesbians

in parish life and sacraments. In 1989

the diocese of Oakland, Calif., issued

guidelines stating that "all baptized 

persons, regardless of sexual orientation 

or social attitudes, have an equal

right to the pastoral service of the

church." The diocese's outreach program

even operates a high school

youth project, providing support and

education for gay and lesbian students

in parochial schools.

It is not just predominantly gay

parishes that are learning to serve gay

men and lesbians. Jim Schexnayder,

president of the National Association

of Catholic Diocesan Lesbian and Gay

Ministries, says that "more bishops

express interest in our work." Cardinal

Roger Mahony of Los Angeles has

agreed to celebrate Mass at the

association's Long Beach, Calif.,

conference in September.

Thomas Gumbleton,

bishop of Detroit, goes

beyond celebrating Mass.

"I hope that within our

church every gay person,

every lesbian person, and

every bisexual person or

transgendered person

will come out," he declared

at a 1996 conference in Pittsburgh

sponsored by New Ways Ministry,

a Catholic research organization,

"because that is how our church will

truly change."

Such progress has been a long time

in coming. The conflict within the

church over homosexuality has been

building for at least 20 years. Official

church policy rests on ironclad "natural

law" theory, drawn from interpretation

of the Bible, which teaches that

sex must take place in the context of

heterosexual marriage. All sexuality

without the possibility of conception--from

masturbation to homosexuality--is

prohibited.

In 1986 the Vatican released Cardinal

Joseph Ratzinger's well-known

"love the sinner, hat the sin" position

paper, officially known as the "Letter

to the Bishops of the Catholic Church

on the Pastoral Care of Homosexual

Persons." The paper terms homosexuality

an "intrinsic moral evil" while

condemning antigay violence and calling

for the "intrinsic dignity of each

person" to be respected "in word, in

action and in law."

With its seemingly contradictory

approach to homosexuality, the letter

still rankles the faithful. "I felt like I

had been slapped on the face and

handed a bouquet of roses," says

Lesa Lessard, a member of the Jesuit

Urban Center in Boston. The advent of

AIDS exacerbated the contradiction, with

the church ministering to people with

AIDS while blocking safer-sex education.

Behind the clashes, however, AIDS

was opening doors for gay Catholics.

"AIDS has awakened the church

institutionally by profoundly exposing

us to real gay people," says Rodney

DeMartini, a Marianist priest and

executive director of the National

Catholic AIDS Network.

Despite such progress gay and lesbian

reality presents a serious challenge to

church teaching. According to church

policy, the only way to resolve the

conflict between "disordered" gay sex

and the "intrinsic dignity" of gay people

is chastity. Yet for most gay Catholics,

chastity is irreconcilable with a

gay-positive identity. Some gay

Catholics are finding a way out of this

conundrum in the church's own teaching

that a carefully informed conscience is

the ultimate guide in every moral

decision. "Sometimes the hardest way is

the best way," says Bernadette Brooten,

author of Love Between Women: Early

Christian Responses to Female

Homoeroticism. In rejecting natural-law

theory, Brooten proposes mutuality and

consent as the guiding moral principles

for human sexual relations.

Gay priests may prove the key to

uniting the church and gay Catholics.

A.W. Richard Sipe, author of A Secret

World: Sexuality and the Search for

Celibacy, estimates that 18% to 22% of

Catholic priests are closeted gay men.

"I'd say it's a lot closer to 50%," said one

gay priest who requested anonymity.

Gumbleton agrees: "I can't tell you the

number of letters I have received from

priests who say they are gay but who are

afraid to come out. What a loss that is to

our church. If they were willing to stand

up on Sunday morning in front of the

community and say who they really are,

our church would much more fully and

effectively appreciate the gifts

homosexuals can bring to the whole

community of our church and society as

well."