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From the Pulpit

One Gay Mormon: A Reconciliation

From a talk given by Tony Collette at the 1990 Affirmation Conference

There's a good chance that you are Mormon and gay. Some people would have you believe that these two vitally important aspects of yourself don't mix. "Like oil and water," they'd say, "being openly gay and an integral part of any organized religion—much less Mormonism just doesn't work. The two are simply incompatible. You won't be accepted, you won't be trusted and you'll drive yourself crazy in the process."

The leadership of this conference has invited me here to tell you exactly the opposite. You can be Mormon and gay. You can be an active, contributing member of your Ward. If you're persistent, expend some energy and seize the opportunities that come your way, you will be trusted, you will be accepted and, far from going crazy in the midst of all this, you're much more likely to integrate two of the most significant and enduring aspects of who you are.

Significant because your sexuality and your testimony of the Gospel are both divine gifts given by loving Heavenly Parents. They influence the vast majority of decisions you make every day. Enduring because while both are likely to undergo the dynamism of change over the years, neither is likely to leave you entirely.

If this is true, bringing the two together and living peacefully with yourself and others becomes a central issue. How do you stay true to yourself, true to who you are, and function successfully in the middle of a bunch of Mormons? How do you convince these people that you're a relatively normal, ordinary person? The simple truth is that the average Mormon shares more common ground with a gay member of the Church than he'll ever have in common with a straight non-member. But how do you convince your fellow Ward members of this? And, maybe more importantly, how do you bring your local LDS leadership to the same conclusion? How do you preserve and nourish your faith, allowing it to soften and heal your heart? How do you maintain a loving relationship with the Lord in the midst of it all?

Just as there are a variety of roads leading to the same destination, there exist as many ways to approach this challenge as there are gay personalities. Bear with me while I share with you some thoughts and suggestions, hopes and fears, successes and defeats and a vision. A hopeful, enthusiastic vision of what may be—of the way things could become. Of a future we could all participate in that includes and integrates our sexuality, our spirituality, and our fellow Latter-day Saint brothers and sisters.

Getting What You Want

I spend a lot of time and energy thinking about what I really want, and exactly how to go about getting it. Whether it's a decent job, a new friend, a more complete understanding of an idea, a chance to help someone, an opportunity to create something beautiful, a closer friendship with God or a few hours to simply be left alone—at one time or another thoughts like these attract the focus of my attention and motivate me to do something about them.

For years I wondered what to do about being a gay Mormon. Since I figured the gay facet of my personality would eventually go away, and because I couldn't imagine anyone being hurt by the situation, there didn't seem to be a great need to do anything about it. Other than discussing the issue with local Church leadership and praying for guidance and understanding, the whole gay thing received little attention and was shifted to a back burner—not to cool as I thought at the time, but to simmer. And just like my very Italian mother's tomato sauce—an all-day affair that bubbles on the stove, the flavors intensifying, the texture and consistency changing with each passing hour—the gay issue in the matrix of a Mormon orientation to the world became more and more a central, core issue in my life.

A Kind But Aggressive Method of Dealing With Local LDS Leadership

As I got to know more gay Mormons, I heard horror stories about how they or their friends were terribly mistreated or unnecessarily offended by rough handling from Bishops, Stake Presidents or GAs. This seemed really stupid and completely avoidable. Finally I decided that for my own sanity and the good of others, there had to be a way to bring all of this together into some sort of a cohesive whole. Why not try an experiment? What would happen if I went to Church, participated in the meetings and discussions and let a few people know that I not only sympathized with the gay cause but actually was a Gay Mormon? This may not sound very brave to you, it may not seem like a particularly ground-breaking idea, but to me it was revolutionary. And a little on the kami-kazi side.

Things went pretty well for a while. At one point at least half our Singles Ward of about 150 knew that I was gay. Except for an occasional half-joking grumble from some of the girls in the Ward disgusted with the dating situation, no one seemed to be particularly bothered. Everyone was kind and some were even affectionate. When one girl approached our EQ President to get "the scoop" as she put it, he calmly and without the least bit of negative sentiment explained as best he could. When my Home Teachers seemed ready, we spoke about the gay issue for a couple of hours. They were mellow, caring and didn't seem to be especially bent out of shape over it. They in turn spoke with the Bishop who called me into his office. We had a pleasant time together discussing the issues during a frank and pointed hour. So far, the experiment was working well.

Then the Bishop recommended me to the Stake President to be a stake missionary. This was a real surprise because I was sure the Bishop understood I was sexually active. When we discussed the calling, he said he thought I'd be a good missionary and the gay thing wasn't a big concern to him. How bizarre! He had completely misunderstood and assumed I wasn't sexually involved.

When the Stake President and I met, he told me that God had called me to the position of stake missionary. "How do you feel about this call from the Lord?" he asked. "Well, I think it's great," I told him, "I'm really looking forward to it. I want you to know that I'm gay but it won't interfere with this calling at all," I offered. He was distressed. Visibly upset. We talked a little longer and he suggested getting back in touch in a day or two. When he did, he said under the circumstances the calling couldn't be extended and he requested that we meet.

When we met at his clinic, he said he was really offended by my breaking the commandments. I told him I was really offended by his using the phrase "God has called you." "Look," I said, "If God called me to be a stake missionary, He already knows I'm gay. If he already knew, there's no need to rescind the call. If you're simply asking me to accept an assignment in the Stake, that's perfectly fine, but you should say what you mean."

This exchange began a relationship, a friendship, that, started in confrontation and distrust and developed into reconciliation and respect.

President G and I met about once every three weeks. He wanted me to repent, renounce my beliefs, sacrifice my hope, and "go along" with what the Brethren have to say on the matter. I told him I couldn't repent of being who I am, that my beliefs were a personal revelation from God, and that I respected the central LDS leadership but didn't feel they understood. Two people could not possibly have held more divergent points of view.

A High Council Court

Before long we found ourselves in a High Council Court, Ours was a new Stake Center and the High Council room looked like a minimalistically decorated, austere corporate board room. Our High Council was very mature, made up mostly of men in their 50s and 60s. There were a few younger guys on the Council. I hoped they'd be a little more sympathetic than the older members. Knowing that they'd be a captive audience, and thinking this would probably be a one-time opportunity, I prepared a statement, written in "their language." After President G briefed the High Council, I read it to them. It took about 20 minutes. Then they asked some questions, Quite surprisingly it was the younger guys who got the most distressed. President G had to calm them down on at least two occasions. Their pointed questions evoked equally pointed answers. When it was over, it seemed they had every reason in the world to excommunicate me. Even though I wanted to keep my membership, and even though I had tried to be as persuasive as possible, they now had all the ammunition they needed. I braced for the worst.

The worst never came. The Council, really President G, decided to disfellowship me for one year. We met every month to discuss what it means to be a gay Mormon. He agreed to read everything I brought him if I'd agree to read everything he gave me. These monthly sessions were really taxing at first, but quickly became enjoyable and rejuvenating. We still disagreed on some important ideas, but he was willing to listen, and that made all the difference.

Once he suggested that God's special calling for me as a homosexual man was to be celibate for the rest of my life. I asked him, "What sort of reaction to that idea would you get if you brought any other member of my Ward into your office and told him—despite the fact that we've taught you from Primary on that the ultimate expression of your religion is to couple with another person, forget all that. God's got something different in mind for you. It's not just a question of circumstance that you remain single, but a matter of personal choice. God wants you to choose to be single, not just accept the fact that you happened to remain single." He mentally chewed on that for a while and said he'd never thought of it that way before. "You want me to sacrifice my hope, in advance. That's completely different than accepting a situation already occurred." This was the big impasse. It didn't look good.

After a year was up Church policy required the Stake President to reconvene the Council to either reinstate or excommunicate. Those were the only two options. We were both pretty nervous about it. I told him it would be a total, complete mistake to excommunicate me or anyone else in a similar position. Who would it help? Would the Church be better off? Would the individual? How would excommunication of a gay member prepare the world for the return of Christ? Exactly what good would it do? He shifted in his chair. He shifted again. His face got red. His eyes teared up. He didn't talk for a while, but when he did his voice was broken and full of emotion. I don't remember what he said, I remember the way he said it. This man loved me. He felt for me. It left a deep impression.

Within a few weeks he became aware of a policy change that removed the former restrictions and allowed the Stake President to do whatever he wanted with a disfellowshipped member. What a relief! We kept on meeting. I ran across an interview with the former Bishop of the SF Singles Ward and started thinking. How could we do this in Dallas? At one point the hope issue came up again, only this time President G said something about no one really being able to completely guarantee their future actions. I didn't read into this any sense of a loophole or a way around anything. But it felt comforting and reassuring, and it stayed with me.

Some Conclusions and Decisions

After some extended soul-searching, prayer and a lot of thought, I came to the following conclusions. The Church is what it claims to be. God did reach down and with His own hand he formed the Church, restored the Priesthood and commissioned the Saints to accomplish some very specific tasks relating to the preparation of the world for the return of Jesus Christ. On the other hand, the Church is composed of ordinary humans, loving people who are imperfect and therefore make mistakes—sometimes small, sometimes big. Obviously these loving, caring people had simply made a massive mistake in their assumptions about homosexuality. Could I forgive them for making such a big mistake?

Eventually the answer was yes. The next realization was that the promises of God apply to me just as much as anyone else—and they are absolute. He'll come through on every promise and every agreement we've made. With those two thoughts in place, and a desire to see what has happened in the SF Singles Ward repeat itself in Dallas, I met with President G and asked him if we could start discussing reinstatement.

He offered two possible options concerning what would and wouldn't be appropriate to do and say about homosexuality and the Church. I told him neither felt right and offered a third which was more compatible with the intent of the Gospel. We discussed it and he agreed. After some discussion with his counselors, the issue was raised again. Obviously they were really nervous about what I might say in public, or possibly from the stand. Understanding the tension they felt, I tried to reassure them, but their doubts were persistent. They were truly worried.

He called the High Council together and we had a really nice meeting. President G briefed them again and then asked me to bear my testimony and answer some questions. The council had gotten a lot younger in a year and a half. This worried me. Although the questions were blunt and the answers blunter, the texture of the meeting stayed friendly and pleasant. Bishop F told them that the issue was whether I could answer the appropriate questions in a temple recommend interview and that everything else was completely irrelevant. "We don't understand this stuff, so let's not pretend we do," he said.

After a short adjournment, President G announced the decision of the Presidency to reinstate me into full fellowship. After making a quick round shaking everyone's hand, I left that room with my Bishop, thinking, "This whole thing has been way too weird." I was really happy, excited, and VERYvery relieved that this ongoing confrontation with the institutional Church was finally over.

Was It Worth It?

What was the point? Why put up with the hassle? Why should anyone have to go through all this distress? To get what you want. Through it all I was convinced that this was the only way to get what I wanted, And that was (1) to be accepted as a gay man, and not as a person who's sexual orientation needs to be changed, (2) to be treated like everyone else, to have the same opportunities to experiment with the principles of the Gospel in an LDS Ward setting, (3) to be trusted with the power to seriously embarrass or significantly uplift, (4) to educate the local LDS leadership about the truths of homosexuality as best I understand them, and (5) to make a significant change in the way they would react to someone, especially someone young, who came to them to discuss their own homosexuality.

Now that the tension with the Church is over, I intend to get on with the more important aspects of the Gospel. Like learning to love your neighbor, understanding what God wants and how to do it, and loving someone else more than you love yourself. And I look forward to having some fun—simple, clean Mormon fun—with the wild and crazy members of my Ward.

—Tony Collette

Update Sept 2001: Since writing these articles, Tony has terminated his membership with the church on his own terms and is no longer affiliated with it.

Contact Tony at:
P.O. Box 60288 - Oklahoma City, OK 73146
(800) 552-3135 - (405) 748-3119/fax