Extracted from an account by Canon Albert Ogle in “Moving forward together : Homosexuality and The Church of Ireland”, co-edited by Canon Ginnie Kennerley and Dr Richard O’Leary, which will be published in late January 2012 by Changing Attitude Ireland.
Uganda, AIDS work and reconciliation
My ministry also involved getting to know the Anglican Church of Uganda and working on AIDS prevention there from 1991 to 1997 and more recently with the amazing Bishop Christopher Senyonjo. As a straight ally for LGBT inclusion, he too shares the shame and exile of the “crucified ones.” He has been stripped of his status in the church and refused the privileges of baptizing his own grandchildren or being buried in consecrated ground. The sacrifices are endless for those who are called to “stand with the crucified,” LGBT and for straight allies.
More than anything, my ministry has been helped by returning to Ireland following a wonderful reconciliation that sprang from taking part in the “Hands of Healing” process in Los Angeles in 2005. At the end of a two-day training program, we were invited to write down the name of someone we either sought forgiveness from or wanted to forgive. After 20 years of carrying around the negative energy of John Neill and his impact on my life, I committed HIS name on a little piece of paper with others seeking healing that was then prayed over in a large bowl of water. Months later, I would receive an email from my old parish of St. Bartholomew’s in Dublin, congratulating me on becoming a Canon in Los Angeles. The present rector, who obviously knew the story of what had happened to a former priest at St. Bart’s, invited me to preach and celebrate next time I was in Dublin. I could not believe what I was reading! I wrote back thanking Fr. Thompson and suggesting he run it by his present Archbishop, who happened to be none other than John Neill. I was certain John would not want me around Dublin any time soon. But I was wrong.
What followed was an email from John Neill – a very wonderful email apologizing for what he had done to me. He said he understood a lot more about LGBT issues and had great respect for some of his clergy who are gay and lesbian. He also admitted that, if faced with a similar situation today, he would handle it very differently. I immediately wrote back, accepted his apology and arranged to meet with him as soon as possible. I arranged a special trip to Dublin to have dinner with him and his wife Betty. I remember the difficult drive down the very street where Archbishop McAdoo lived and rang the doorbell of the same house where 20+ years before, John Neill’s predecessor had told me he could not recommend me for ministry where children were involved. It was a very difficult thing to do, but I had to “return to the place of the wound” if I was going to find healing and we were all going to move forward.
So I reconciled with him and we became good friends. We had a lovely dinner in their kitchen and it was just like old times. We picked up where we left off and tried to catch up on what each other had been doing, what their family was up to. It was a grace-filled blessing to all of us. A few months later, while I was web-surfing for a course on conflict resolution as part of a planned sabbatical, “The Irish School of Ecumenics” popped up. The course was perfect for what I wanted to do, but if I had not reconciled with John Neill, I could never have come back to Ireland.
So in 2006, I returned to complete a master of philosophy degree at the ISE and was licensed by John Neill to officiate in the Diocese of Dublin. Fr. Thompson’s invitation to preach and celebrate in St Bart’s after 20 years was gladly accepted. I found myself back in the place of my nightmare of shame and rejection. The amazing thing about that Sunday morning, seeing parishioners who I knew and were certainly familiar with the whole story, was how ORDINARY and matter of fact it all was. It was an unconditional welcome to my old parish after 20 years. It was healing for me and I even acted as John’s chaplain at the enthronement of the new Archbishop of Armagh, Alan Harper, who was a contemporary of mine in seminary. There in front of the whole Church of Ireland gathered that day in Armagh Cathedral complete with the Duke of Edinburgh and President of Ireland, John and I demonstrated Christian forgiveness and reconciliation.
Yet while I was in Ireland, two fine Irish gay clergy once again left for London. There was no still no place for them in the Church of Ireland either. Another priest friend, suffering from a terminal illness, was fighting for his rights to give his church pension to his legally recognized civil partner, having been refused permission to officiate by his diocesan bishop. I witnessed the inhumanity of a church that may have done wonders for the Irish peace process, but was continuing to discriminate against gay clergy. Like institutional sectarianism, institutional homophobia can creep up on us and before we know it, we are reverting to old patterns of relating.
I recently visited the Ulster Museum to read the damning consequences of the Penal Laws against Catholics, supported and encouraged by the Church of Ireland, then the established state Church. Such state-sanctioned violence against Catholics in the 18th century has much in common with LGBT criminalization in places like Africa where the Anglican Church supports criminalizing LGBT people. The consequences are death dealing and it is difficult to provide HIV education and services in many of these 76 countries. If there ever was an opportunity for the Church of Ireland to repair its dark past, it has to be today’s engagement with LGBT people. It begins by listening to the stories of your own children and fellow clergy and then to the stories of African LGBT Christians. What do both very different contexts have in common, and what could the Church of Ireland do to take leadership and, in the words of my friend John Neill, “to do it differently”?
Final thoughts
There are two final reflections I end with. My reconciliation and return to Ireland taught me that I, as well as others, had been limited or even downright wrong in how I told myself my own story. The reconciliation with my past actually changed my story. Was I “kicked out” or was I “birthed out” became an important question. That is what is spiritually scary about any form of reconciliation. We would rather stay safe in our anger and brokenness, with our identity secure, than step out through a door to an unknown land where our preoccupation with what was done to us paralyses us from dancing to a different song. Twenty-five years after the fact, I realized I was “birthed out” and God had other things for me to do in ways I could not have imagined. Given the difficulties faced by my gay and lesbian clergy in the U.K. and Republic, I realized I had more opportunities to exercise my gifts and ministry than if i had stayed under the “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy that secretly still exists in many communities.
The way that the Irish have always dealt with problems is to go away. Therefore, it is really good that the issue of Church of Ireland clergy in committed same-sex relationships is now in the public domain and being openly discussed. I would encourage the Church of Ireland to engage wholeheartedly in the Listening Process.
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.