Cover
story De facto couples struggle with churchs
norms
By NCR Staff
Tough many Catholics who deviate
from traditional marriage norms gravitate toward more liberal churches, many
others, unwilling to abandon the familiar comforts of a childhood faith,
gradually find ways to accommodate and belong.
Take Marta and Magaly Alquijay-Perez, two women who met in high
school and were friends before they were lovers. Nearly two decades ago, after
theyd become a couple, they decided they wanted to adopt a child. Los
Angeles County officials raised no objection.
They represent what the Vatican , in a recent document, termed
de facto unions (see previous story).
The couples daughter, Samantha, is now 4, and they hope to
adopt a second child. Marta, a psychologist, and Magalay, an artist who
catalogs images at a movie studio, are both Catholic. Samantha attends a
Catholic preschool.
Two decades ago, the two women moved away from the church, said
Marta, but later they began a search that was accelerated by Samanthas
adoption. They tried to fit into the parish where they had grown up but found
that it focused on traditional, heterosexual families.
Eventually they found St. Dominics, a small Dominican church
in Eagle Rock, one of seven parishes in the Los Angeles archdiocese with an
outreach to gays and lesbians. We saw in the bulletin an announcement for
the Gay and Lesbian Outreach Group, which blew us away, Marta said.
Samantha was baptized at St. Dominics, Magalay confirmed
there. Initially, with Samanthas baptism, said Marta, there was some
difficulty with the fact that Samantha has two moms, but the pastor
cleared that up.
There are struggles along the way, she said, but
also support.
One of the problems, Marta said, is that the church doesnt
recognize gay and lesbian unions. Do I feel genuine in participating if
they say part of me isnt right? she asks herself aloud.
Her answer is that much of her moral fiber -- her sense of
justice, her belief in equality for all -- derives from church teaching.
There is, she said, a vision of church -- based on its teachings
and Jesus life and love -- that is larger than anything the institution
is able to embrace, or even completely comprehend.
John Falzone, a gay Catholic from Simi Valley, Calif., believes
the church is slowly, gradually, coming around. Falzone and partner David
Spotts met in April of 1990 and became a couple the following June.
Falzone, a hairdresser, was raised Catholic. His partner, David
Spotts, a stay-at-home parent, was raised Mormon. Neither religion at the
institutional level opens its arms to Falzone and Spotts and their three
adopted children, Emily Rae, age 7, and 3-year-old twins, Carly Rae and
Mackenzie, as a family unit.
Teaching the basics
As a young man, Falzone would attend church from time-to-time, but
later distanced himself, in part because of the churchs attitude toward
the fact he was gay. The Catholic church regards homosexuals as
objectively disordered and condemns sexual activity between gays.
What Falzone and Spotts hope is that, by drawing on their religious backgrounds
we are teaching the children the basics of a Christian life,
Falzone said.
I felt some rejection from the church, he said,
but now they seem to be coming around a little. Theyre not
condoning my lifestyle but theyre not shutting me out.
Falzone said their parents -- both sets -- are very supportive,
but it bothers Falzones mother, Geri Falzone, that the Catholic church
rejects unions like her sons. Not only are John and David excluded from
the church; their children are effectively excluded as well, she said.
If gays and lesbians in the United States are creating families,
couples in Europe are often reticent to reproduce. For heterosexuals Tomasso De
Benedetti, 31, and Bibi David, 25, of Rome, for instance, desire for children
is tempered by economic concerns.
Such couples illustrate a startling paradox of the Italian family
scene: a nation whose Catholic heritage and cult of the bambini are at
odds with the current demographic winter. In Italy, 91 percent of
women say they use birth control, and the birth rate, 1.19 children per woman,
is one of the lowest in human history.
An unmarried couple, both De Benedetti and David declare the
intention of being married someday, though not necessarily to each other. Both
qualify their desire to have children, saying they want them if economic
stability permits.
Ironically, in Italy, children are treated as little less than
gods, feted and spoiled at every turn. Gigantic stores are devoted entirely to
childrens bedroom furnishings. Friends talk about encounters with one
anothers children with the sort of wide eyes and breathless tones
reserved in other cultures for rock stars or royalty.
Perhaps, given the hectic pace of modern life, the only way to
maintain such an exalted status for children is to have relatively few.
De Benedetti, a teacher of Italian literature, believes economic
uncertainty is at the root of the trend.
In some ways the crisis of feeling insecure about ones
work is affecting even the most evolved societies, he said.
Not looking for commitment
David, a freelance journalist, attributes the low birth rate to
children living longer under the parental roof. There is a tendency here
for young people to live at home longer, not creating new families of their
own, she said. They change partners often and are not looking for
serious and fixed commitments.
De Benedetti says he thinks egoism also plays a role.
In Italy in recent years an attitude of hedonism has
triumphed, a cult of pleasure, of fun. Many couples say that we want to enjoy
our lives, we want to remain carefree, and children are too much of a
problem, he said.
De Benedetti said that the somewhat higher rate of birth in
Northern Europe may have something to do with its more extensive system of
social supports for families, but he predicts this difference will not survive
the push to globalization.
As for the impact of church teaching, De Benedetti said,
Most young people are very distant from religion, theyve
experienced living in their own way, he said.
But he said he sees a new turn ahead under the impact of John Paul
II. I think that, given the force of this pope, especially his capacity
as a communicator, there is a greater tendency to follow the ideas of the
church, he said.
David disagrees. I think the church does not have much
influence over Catholics, and thats not likely to change, she
said.
Sarah Van Roo Barber Patterson of Portland, Ore., a twice-divorced
Catholic, intended to follow church teaching when she married Oliver Barber
several decades ago, but the marriage lasted just 10 years. Patterson now says
she overextended herself, entering law school when the couples two
children were toddlers.
The Barbers decision to divorce was not made lightly, said
Patterson. It followed much counseling, she said. Patterson did not consult her
uncle, a Jesuit serving in Rome at the time, but 10 years later when she and
the priest talked about her divorce, he assured her that she had made a valid
decision of conscience.
Patterson, less certain at the time, exiled herself from a parish
in Kentucky where shed been active during her marriage. After a few years
she returned and was warmly embraced, she said.
Her sons, Scott and Brandan Barber, lived one week with their
mother, the next with their dad. Both attended Catholic high schools and Jesuit
universities. Both have a highly developed sense of spirituality and
morality, but its not religious, their mother said. Even so, son
Scott married in the church and served in the Jesuit Volunteer Corps and as a
public defender in Portland.
Ten years after her divorce from Barber, Sarah married Pat
Patterson. An Episcopal minister officiated, and a priest friend attended.
Patterson did not seek an annulment of her first marriage. To me an
annulment is dishonest; its an artifice; an annulment would make my
children seem illegitimate, she said.
Back to the church
The effort to blend the Barber sons with the three Patterson
children from her second husbands previous marriage proved
difficult and very stressful, and the marriage ended after five
years. In her years of unease with Catholicism, she explored other religious
paths, including Buddhism, but found them unfulfilling. I always seem to
go back to the Catholic church. I missed Catholic ritual, she said.
After a year of serving in the Jesuit Volunteer Corps
elder corps program in Portland, Patterson has traded in a thriving
law practice and Pacific Heights condominium for a life whose core values
derive from the Jesuit program: spirituality, community, simple living and
social justice. She has become active in an inner-city Portland parish and
works as a volunteer with people who have AIDS. She divides her time between
Portland and Truckee, Calif. Shes developing her photography skills and
exhibiting her work.
Patterson looks enviously on the stability of some of the
35-year-long marriages of friends, but shes quick to add: Its
better to raise kids in peace.
People should feel part of the church even if theyre
not able to have a happy marriage or one that survives, she said. She
finds that some parishioners remain apart from separated and divorced members
of their parishes. They dont want to hang out with the
divorced.
Patterson thinks the churchs teaching on divorce and
sexuality will eventually change -- and the change will come, in part, she
said, by people like her hanging in.
Franciscan Fr. Donan McGovern is among pastoral priests who
encourage such people to stay. Some 16 years ago, he started a support group in
midtown Manhattan for separated and divorced Catholics. Since then, hes
established similar groups in Wilmington, Del., and Boston.
Here people learn that theyre not to be ashamed,
theyre not ex-Catholics and, most important, their own
tragedies and setbacks can be turned into faith assets, he said.
McGovern would not claim to be the pioneer in outreach to the
brokenhearted. He credits the Paulist Fathers for a similar ministry begun 30
years ago. But what McGovern likes to stress is that such support groups are
peer ministries formulated on the spirituality of the brokenness of their
members.
Experience speaking
This is the church speaking, McGovern said. We
clergy, the bishops, even the pope were never there. We havent
experienced what these people are going through. They remind us that the church
is imperfect.
McGovern said he was prompted to found the support group because
of massive misinformation about church teaching. Often separated
and divorced Catholics do a kind of self-exiling from the church,
believing that a failed marriage renders them no longer Catholic, he said.
A lot believe theyre excommunicated because they got a divorce.
They hear it at the office, from friends.
I tell them that theyre not out of the church unless
they want to be, he said.
McGovern has seen support groups provide emotional as well as
spiritual help for persons fighting a losing battle with their marriage.
Here laypeople preach to other laypeople by sharing their own hurts and
losses. Here they find understanding and forgiveness, he said.
Some also find healing in doing it the churchs way:
annulling a broken marriage. When his first marriage ended after six years, Pat
Healy of San Diego, began the process of obtaining an annulment through the
local diocesan marriage tribunal.
I didnt want to wait until I had met someone, he
said, and I found it to be a healing and cleansing process. It took the
bad taste out of the civil divorce process. It also led to his new
career.
Healy and his first wife, Connie, had two sons during their
six-year marriage, Patrick, now 8, and Michael, now 15. The couple both worked
in television news. Healy, now a licensed marriage and family therapist,
attributes the breakup of their marriage to his own immaturity at the time.
At the request of his pastor, Healy organized a support group for
divorced and separated Catholics in the parish. He met his second wife, Marla,
at church. A divorced Catholic herself, she began the annulment process after
meeting Pat. The couple has been married seven years and now have two young
daughters.
Healy said he would encourage divorced Catholics to participate in
the annulment process. If you enter into it as a healing process and are
open-minded, it can bring closure to a painful period in your life, he
said. For me, it was important to remain in good standing with the church
in spite of the breakup of my marriage.
Ministry to cohabiting couples
In Joliet, Ill., just outside Chicago, psychologist James Healy --
no relation to Pat -- works with another group that deviates from the
churchs norm of sex within marriage only and one marriage for life. James
Healy, who directs the Center for Family Ministry in the Joliet diocese, spends
a lot of his energy on unmarried couples who live together.
In the United States, cohabiting couples number more than 4
million, according to recent studies, and many of them are Catholic. About 2
million of those couples are over age 35, and 41 percent have a child under age
18 living with them.
Many of those working in the field of Catholic marriage within
diocesan offices use the 1986-94 Creighton study of cohabitation -- statistics
you can bank on, Healy said.
He noted that an increasing number of seniors are part of the
overall cohabitation pool. Seniors choose to live together without marrying for
financial reasons, but also because of issues raised by their adult children,
he said.
Whether seniors or younger couples, Catholics do not differ much
from the rest of the population when it comes to cohabitation. Healy, a
frequent lecturer on cohabitation, has written three pamphlets and made a
75-minute audiotape to guide pastors and parish leaders working with cohabiting
couples seeking to wed in the Catholic church.
Healy has memorized words from John Paul IIs Familiaris
Consortio, an apostolic exhortation, stressing that its unwise to
generalize about any of these unions. He is fond of quoting John Paul IIs
advice that pastors become acquainted with cohabiting couples and deal with
them on a case-by-case basis. He also points to a recent background paper sent
to the bishops by the Family Life Committee of the National Conference of
Catholic Bishops. It indicates that in dioceses across the nation, church
leaders who work on marriage guidelines want to talk about cohabitation,
to get it on the table and help create a smooth path toward the regularization
of these situations, he said.
The trend toward cohabitation continues, Healy said, despite
statistics revealing that couples who live together before marriage are 50
percent more likely to divorce than those who dont, he said, and despite
such counter trends as True Love Waits, a movement toward
postponing sex until marriage that is making some headway among the young.
Reporting for this article was done by John L. Allen Jr. and
Arthur Jones of the NCR staff and correspondents Rosemary Johnston and
Patricia Lefevere.
National Catholic Reporter, January 5,
2001
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