Extracted from an account by Canon Albert Ogle which will be published in Ireland later this year.
In 1980, I was fired for being a gay priest. It was a long time ago but it was very difficult, and an example the results of a “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” policy practiced by both church and state.
In the early 1980s it was still illegal to be gay in Ireland; and there was a stigma which the Church strongly endorsed through its interpretation of Scripture. My partner Frank and I were young and naive, and we didn’t really know what we were dealing with in terms of the culture of the Church of Ireland, which was still very homophobic.
At St. Bartholomew’s Church in Dublin, my rector, John Neill, when he discovered I was gay and in a relationship, suspended me from all duties and even from saying goodbye to parishioners. This hurt me personally, but it also profoundly hurt the congregation. Even worse was the impact this decision had on the whole Church of Ireland. The story of what happened circulated for many years after my departure and was cited as an example of the church’s poor handling of gay and lesbian clergy.
I later learned that John Neill might have been elected Archbishop of Dublin sooner than he was, partly because clergy in Dublin were worried about his ability to deal with his clergy as a fair and compassionate pastor, given that he had fired me without any significant support or agreed transition plan.
Henry McAdoo, the then-Archbishop of Dublin, also dealt with the issue in a very reactive and hidebound way. He allegedly said “I want him out of here, quickly and quietly.” When I finally met with him at the See House in Dublin, he told me he did not know any gay people and assumed I was a paedophile. His last words to me (I was also a trained teacher and youth worker) were “I will not be able to recommend you for any position that involves working with children.” Given the power of the episcopacy over clergy, there was nothing I could do to challenge his ignorance.
Forced to leave Ireland, family and friends
I had to leave my home and my country within three months and it was horrific. I was dealing with my own grief and the grief of my parishioners. I had to come out to my father — (my mother already knew) — worried that the news might hit the press. He told me that he never wanted to see my partner ever again. He got his wish.
This premature coming out to my father led to a rift between my parents which took many years to heal. The shame of being fired for being gay cast an enormous cloud over everyone, our family, the parish and the whole church.
St. Bartholomew’s was considered a liberal progressive parish where a large number of parishioners were in mixed marriages, where there were known to be a number of gay couples, and the church was a refuge from the cultural and religious bigotry of the day. This status was undermined by the decision to fire me and in retrospect, it must have become difficult for John Neill to continue to function there as a spiritual leader, given what had happened.
I had nightmares about being rejected. It affected my spiritual life and as a priest I wasn’t able bring myself to celebrate the Eucharist for another three years. My only “sin” was that I was living in a six-year committed relationship with another man.
Picking up the pieces in London, but losing a partner
We limped off to London, like so many Irish gays before us, trying to pick up the pieces. The exile had devastating consequences on our relationship and we finally parted in 1982 when I moved to the USA. Frank got sick in 1985 and died from AIDS. I threw myself into full-time AIDS work in California and helped to set up some of the early AIDs services in the U.K. with our good friend Christopher Spence. A fountain in the London Lighthouse is dedicated in memory of Frank, whose inspiration and leadership in the early years of a frightening disease helped us to mobilize resources and move forward.
Between leaving St. Bart’s and moving to California, I worked in the U.K. as a project director with Newham Community Renewal Programme. I learned a lot about living in an alien land from children born to young West Indian parents living in London’s East End. Needless to say, I remained in the closet during my two years there and worked hard to build up the “Out of work Centre” for fellow exiles – they were black Londoners and I was a gay Irish priest. The U.K. was also a very difficult place to be gay and the Church of England remained a place of clergy closets with a few supportive bishops. Partners of clergy were reduced to “lodger” status… To be continued
Originally from St. Patrick’s Parish, Ballymacarrett, Belfast, Diocese of Down, the Rev. Canon Albert Ogle was ordained for the Diocese of Connor as curate of Derriaghy Parish 1977-1979 and served as curate of St. Bartholomew’s, Diocese of Dublin, 1979-1981. He has served in several parishes in the U.S., including rector of St. George’s Laguna Hills for 10 years and is currently president of the St. Paul’s Foundation for International Reconciliation based in St. Paul’s Cathedral in San Diego.