An Honest Life, Faithful and Gay by Geoffrey Hooper

It can be found on Amazon 

I was struck immediately by the title, An Honest Life, it is what I seek to live, but it seems that it is not something the Church actually supports. There have been moments when something other than an “honest” existence has been attractive, and I am increasingly troubled by, and for, my peers who seem to live within another state.

When Geoffrey talked of the gay cliques at King's it rang bells with me – not of my time at King's but afterwards when I was Chaplaincy Assistant at Keele, I recall hanging out with two students who were at that point in a closeted relationship with each other, so we made up a little gang, where our sexuality, while still unspoken, was acknowledged. There was a bond that came from this slightly illicit gathering, that you were part of it. As an aside, one of the Chaplains at Keele in order to try to move my exploration of vocation on arranged for me to visit Staggers, it was fun (until the almighty hang over from the gin), and one of the lessons I learnt was that being gay was not a problem, as long as you managed it in the right way.

While at Keele I also learnt how complicated it is trying manage a closeted life. I had come out back at Sixth Form, and as a student in Durham and at King's I had an open and active involvement in both Christian and gay scenes, without any real difficulties. Going to Keele the gay side of life somehow took a back seat, although there were people who knew I was gay, in part because my sister had been a student there and so there were people around who knew her and knew her brother was gay. But the experience of Keele, for me, was claustrophobic and I increasingly see that a key cause of that was living in the closet.

From Keele I went on to Bishop Grosseteste in Lincoln and as I went deeper into the formal exploration of vocation I found myself increasingly distancing myself from gay life, well from those aspects of gay life that might involve public acknowledgement – I didn't actually let the dust settle on my Gaydar profile...

I am not sure what the particular trigger was that made me take an “honest” look at what I was doing – it was partly that I am pretty rubbish at lying, I don't have the capacity to remember which lies I have told which people, it is all too much hard work and even after only a relatively few months of trying to juggle a “straight” front I was exhausted by it – but there was a moment of clarity when I saw the essential tragedy of so many of these “bachelor” Priests, the lace and the gin are all well and good but there comes a point when the brief encounters are not a substitute for love.

It was clear to me that there were only two choices, even in Lincoln with one of the most gay “friendly” Bishops, choices at least until you had safely got through selection, or possibly training, there was an idea that once you got a Dog Collar there might be more freedom, although I think I realised that there would always be some reason for deferring honesty, waiting till you had free-hold, waiting for that new job offer, waiting till you had won the trust of the parish...

Two choices, follow my vocation or be open about my sexuality and hold on to my sanity.

There then followed a few moments of bridge burning to put my sexuality out there, to irrevocably close the door of the closet from the outside - perhaps a rather dramatic metaphor – I was not prancing down the aisle of Lincoln Cathedral declaring my desires – no, it was little acts, perhaps no one really noticed but they were important to me, joining the local Changing Attitude group, going back to YLGC (Young Lesbian and Gay Christians), having a boyfriend that I talked about.

And I tried to find other routes to express the vocation, as the end of my contract approached I applied for every chaplaincy post I could find which didn't make ordination a prerequisite. There followed six months of unemployment, living back home with my parents, and just at the moment when I was start to acknowledge I was stuck in Chester and should try to get a life there (and as I did I think there was even the potential for a relationship with a lovely guy on horizon), God decided the lesson in humility had been endured long enough, and an admin job in Southampton was offered.

On the first night in Southampton, as I got into the sleeping bag on the floor of the hurriedly found, unfurnished, flat I will admit that I was scared that this move was going to be a total disaster – but in the days, weeks, years that have followed there have been so many signs that have told me that this is where God has called me, placed me. I am blessed with a full and stimulating life and a loving relationship, but there are times when there is a yearning, there is an unfilled hole left by that “abandoned” vocation (even if there are probably a great deal more frequent times when I reflect that I had a lucky escape).

Within our parish we have experimented with lay worship leaders, but I had to stand back from it because to be leading the people in worship created a state of turmoil, a taste of a calling and yet only underlining the void between me and the fullness of its expression. I also find attending the ordinations of friends can be a little painful, like the spurned ex-girlfriend at a wedding, I am on the verge of standing at a vital moment and declaring “but it should have been ME!”.

In some ways I am thankful that Winchester has such a conservative Bishop (I realise I am the only one) because it means that there is no temptation toward compromise or collusion, the would be no nudge-nudge, no supportive in private as long as you keep your head down, keep it unofficial, and avoid speaking out against the Church. There would only be a “no”. It a funny sort of way I take this as one of the signs that I am in the right place.

But there are others for whom I worry. There was a young man I knew through the gay group in Durham, (my friends knew him as “Cute Chad's Fresher”), and one Sunday I ended up sitting with him at the Eucharist at the Cathedral and then going for coffee – over which he talked about his “chosen profession” - which was a little cryptic, but clearly ordination. He is now a priest, we are friends on Facebook, although in reality only acquaintances (that coffee had, in various ways, a more profound effect on me that is seems it had on him), and so the content I see via Facebook is I assume for general consumption, I am part of no inner circle – and so because I saw his fancy dress outfit for the Pride Parade I imagine, at least in theory, his Bishop saw it too.

But there are others, some days my Facebook wall seems to be exclusively made up of the antics of gay priests, and you are left wondering what conclusion you are supposes to make, or not make, that their holiday photos seems to always include that same “friend”.

It is this group of my peers that troubles me, they must have been faced with the same questions during the process of testing vocation as I was, in many ways the vocation process has increasingly shone a spot light on sexuality and therefore to be gay and pass through it involves ever more gymnastics. This is a group that are making the choice to play that game, in a way that I don't think is true for earlier cohorts – those who were ordained when to be gay in society generally require a certain amount of management of identity, when the idea of same-sex marriage was a fantasy, or when Issues in Human Sexuality was written and it's the authors thought the Church was on a journey – and in its wake you might have thought any compromise you had to make would have been temporary...

So what do my cohort say about the value of “truth” in the Church, I will admit I look on them with bitterness, their collusion is one of the brakes on change. There are some that draw parallels between the journey toward the ordination of women and the, open, ordination of gay, lesbian, bi, etc. people. But the parallels collapse because the pressure that forced the change for women was the witness of those women would were called but not ordained banging on the door demanding access. There are effectively no gay witnesses, they have all slipped in through the door, and the last thing they will do is raise their voice to demand access for others for fear that instead they will be ejected. Their collusion is what ensures the continuing denial of honesty in the Church.

But I also worry about them as people, what is life really like for them, I might at times throw stones that they are having their cake and eating it – but are they, I somehow doubt it. I think there is rather more cake on my side of the fence. How do we make a different kind of Church that would allow them an honest life without wreaking their existence in the process? Maybe it is all omelettes and broken eggs. My trouble is that I am not really an activist, I am not one to man the barricades, I prefer to quietly get on with living my own life but I still hold these worries in my heart as I struggle to do anything about them.