A couple of years ago, when I was a senior at the University of Notre Dame, I was asked by the LGBTQ campus chaplain to help plan and speak at a prayer service for National Coming Out day. Our dorm community hoped to provide a safe space for the LGBTQ campus community to gather and pray in celebration of a day meant to commemorate those who have bravely come out and began sharing their experiences while also encouraging others to do the same when the time feels right.
Recognizing that church spaces have a complicated history towards the LGBTQ community, we knew this would be no easy task. Previous events I had helped plan for National Coming Out Day had resulted in strong backlash from members of the campus community. How could we create a space that ensured those who wanted to attend would be accepted and not feel a sense of shame or fear?
We decided to title the prayer service “Called By Name” to emphasize how Jesus calls all of us into God’s Kingdom. There would be no expectations or assumptions made for any of the attendees, just that they come as themselves. This was meant to be a welcoming invitation and ease the minds of those who might not be publicly out by conveying that one does not need to identify as queer, privately or publicly, to pray with us. All we asked was that they come with an open heart to answer Jesus’ call.
In the days leading up to the event, I stressed over what I was going to say. Would people try to attack me? Would people even want to come? I sometimes had trouble expressing myself and I did not think of myself as a model representation of the queer community or as a model Catholic. I was nervous that I would struggle to strike the right tone.
On the night of the prayer service, in the small chapel tucked into a corner of my dorm where I lived for the past four years, there was a palpable tension present. But as we were welcomed into the space and the first few notes of the opening hymn began, we all started to relax. As the song continued, more voices joined in, and I saw smiles on the faces of those inside the chapel with me, faces visibly full of joy.
As I looked out into the crowd from my spot in the front, I also noticed the large turnout: people from all corners of the campus community and even across different generations joined hands for the Our Father. It was as though we all felt connected through both past traumas and heartache and through perseverance to answer God’s call to be present in this moment. For several students, it was one of the first times they had set foot inside a church in years. There were no judgements or fear, only love and patience.
It was as though we all felt connected through both past traumas and heartache and through perseverance to answer God’s call to be present in this moment.
When it was my turn to speak, I slowly walked up to the lectern, taking deep breaths. I made eye contact with everyone in the audience and I felt as if I could see parts of my story present within each one of them. I began by telling my own “coming out” story, how in my first year at Notre Dame, I started to disclose to my close friends how I’m attracted to men.
Slowly but surely, I started to meet and form connections with others in the queer community at school by building friendships and gaining support for who I was, finding God in unexpected places and people. This community encouraged me to deepen my faith by attending events like the Notre Dame LGBTQ retreat. In one sense, my standing before them that evening was a culmination of this journey together. Without supportive people, without meeting and talking to gay people who were already out, I very well may have never come out. This work takes a village.
Realizing the importance of community in coming out, I connected my story to the Gospel passage proclaimed at the service, the raising of Lazarus (John 11:1-44). In that story, Jesus was moved to compassion by the weeping of Lazarus’s sisters and, with the community’s help, they were able to move the large boulder that kept Lazarus in his tomb. It is then that Jesus calls Lazarus to “come out,” and it is only through Jesus’s call to Lazarus does he emerge fully restored to life (John 11:43).
While connecting Lazarus’s story to my own, I shared how I have always had a conflicted view on the idea of coming out. Originally I had thought that the idea of coming out only further emphasizes the “otherness” of gay people. It normalizes how we are seen as going against the norm. But I have come to realize that coming out is so much more than just posting some big announcement on social media. In fact, the effects of coming out often extend far beyond yourself.
Without supportive people, without meeting and talking to gay people who were already out, I very well may have never come out. This work takes a village.
The prayer service underscored this importance, especially in building and uplifting the LGBTQ Catholic community. While LGBTQ people have more rights and opportunities at this current moment in time, rarely is their witness to the Gospel seen or able to be seen. Representation in the church matters.
As the service wrapped up, I reflected on what just happened. Though I was more or less out at that point, talking about my sexual orientation in such a public manner was a new, frightening but ultimately rewarding and faith-filled experience. And I’ve realized that it’s not one and done. Coming out is a process, a decision, that we make over and over again, day after day, year after year. I’m grateful that my faith has provided me with a solid foundation to continue this journey. By embracing myself as God made me and sharing my story, I hope that others are inspired to “come out” of the closet and live as their authentic selves, loved by the God who created them.
