By JD Flynn
Denver, Colo., May 21, 2018 / 13:00 pm
I am not a priest or deacon, or even a counselor or pastoral care worker. But in more than a decade of full-time work in the Church, I've often sat with people who are confronting some difficult cross they have to carry, some heavy burden that's been placed upon them.
I've found that the question people most often ask is "why?"
"Why did my spouse abandon me and my children?"
"Why did my baby die?"
"Why do I face these temptations? Why did God make me this way?"
"Why?" is the most common question. And it's the question that we're usually least equipped to answer.
We do well with "what" and "how" questions, but "why" is harder.
"What am I supposed to do now?" - "Follow the teachings of the Church, and give the anguish and the suffering to Jesus."
"How can I live this way?" - "Trust in the Lord, stay close to the sacraments, lean on the community of the Church- on saints, family, friends, pastors, and counselors."
"Why did this happen to me?" - "I...I don't know."
We all want coherent and sensible narratives to explain the circumstances of our lives. Looking for those narratives seems to be a part of coping with difficulty or tragedy. But sometimes there are no clear answers. And sometimes, when we can't find them, we create them in our minds- we call this the narrative fallacy.
The essayist Nassim Taleb says that the narrative fallacy "addresses our limited ability to look at sequences of facts without weaving an explanation into them, or, equivalently, forcing a logical link, an arrow of relationship upon them."
A few years ago, I sat with a woman who had suffered terrible abuse. She was talking with me about her experience. Eventually, she told me that God had wanted her to suffer, to test her faithfulness to the Gospel. She told me her pastor had told her that was true.
Her pastor was a friend of mine. I doubted he believed that God proactively willed that this woman would be abused. I called him and asked him if he'd said that.
"No," he told me. "She said that. I sat there quietly listening, trying to decide what I should say next. But before I got a chance, the conversation ended."
I thought of that woman and her pastor when I read that a Chilean, Juan Carlos Cruz, told the Spanish newspaper El Pais that Pope Francis said that God had made him gay.
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After being reported in the media, what the pope might have said has become the subject of speculation, of misapplication, of misunderstanding, and criticism.
It must be said that God loves each one of us. God is love. He created us in love, and sustains us in love. God reveals truth to us - truth about ourselves, and about his plan for us - because he loves us.
The Church teaches that same-sex attraction is a "disordered" inclination, which distorts God's plan for our sexuality. Disordered inclinations come from the disordering effects of Adam's fall - same-sex attraction is not a choice, it may even have genetic components, but it is not consistent with God's positive will for the experience or expression of our sexuality.
God gives us the grace to bear our crosses, he permits that they exist and that we carry them, and through Christ, he transforms us in holiness as we carry our crosses. But it would be a cruel God who actively imposed on us the suffering that comes from disorder. And God is not cruel.
It is not immoral to experience same-sex attraction, which, the Church recognizes, often constitutes a "trial"- a cross. But all people, no matter their attractions, are called to express their sexuality in accord with the teaching of the Church, and with the virtue of chastity.
There is every reason to believe that Pope Francis knows those things and believes them. He teaches them, in fact, with regularity. While we don't know what Pope Francis said in a private, pastoral moment, it is unfair to presume that he would willfully give counsel that contravenes the teachings of the Church.
What Pope Francis said might have been misreported, or it might have been accurately reported in its entirety. But it's most likely that, in the difficulty of a pastoral moment, what the pope said, or attempted to say, was somehow unclear, confused, or misunderstood.
We may not know what the pope said, or didn't say. He may choose to clarify it, or it may continue to be the subject of speculation. But from Catholics, at least, the pope deserves the benefit of the doubt, with some understanding for the challenge of teaching complex theological concepts in intimate pastoral moments, and understanding for the challenge of receiving and comprehending those concepts.
In a private meeting with a man who carries many crosses, including some imposed by abuse at the hands of a priest, the pope gave a reminder of God's love, and of the Church's love. Beyond that, we are unlikely to be sure what was said. But in charity, we should presume the best of the pope, and pray for him, for Mr. Cruz, and for all those who might doubt the Lord's love, or ask the oft-unanswerable question: "Why?"
This commentary reflects the opinions of the author, and does not necessarily reflect an editorial position of Catholic News Agency.
