Between vocation and refusal: the challenge of Catholic transgender people in the Church

Article by Madeleine Davison published in the National Catholic Reporter (United States) on 24 October 2024. Freely translated by the volunteers of the Gionata Project.

James Pawlowicz was only seventeen when he began to sense, deep down, that he felt like a boy. He still didn't have the words to say it, nor the awareness to understand what he was experiencing.
Raised in Chicago in a strong catholic family, he found a refuge and a foothold in the faith.

But, for a long time, he Tells The National catholic reporter, neither the language nor the cultural references yet existed to give a name to that feeling of diversity that inhabited Him. talking about transgender identity was then something almost unknown, especially in more traditional religious contexts.

As a child, James did not really feel like a child, but the people around him treated him according to social conventions. Even without using the word "transgender", he was already starting to live in coherence with what he felt inside himself.

Throughout his school years, his presentation fluctuated: he often appeared as a boy, and no one seemed upset. Many, perhaps, simply preferred not to ask.

It was only in 2022, when he began to seriously think about joining a consecrated community, that his gender identity became a delicate and difficult issue.

He had already completed his medical transition, had been living as a man for years, and was fully integrated into his faith community, where he felt welcomed. Yet, right then, she encountered rejection for the first time because of being transgender.

“It was when I wanted to enter consecrated life and confided to someone that I was transgender that I experienced real rejection,” she recalls. «Only in that moment did I fully understand what being transgender meant to me. I had to give up the idea of ​​simply being a man like the others and accept that reality was more complex."

For eight months James experienced an intense journey of discernment with the jesuits. He says he felt a deep inner peace, a certainty that God was calling him to serve the catholic church.

But when he approached the moment of final choice, he understood that he could no longer hide such an essential part of himself.

«I knew that was my path. I was ready to leave everything and dedicate my life to the Jesuits to serve the people of God", he says. «But I also knew that I couldn't live forever keeping my truth hidden. I'm a transparent person, it's part of who I am."

When he revealed to his spiritual companion that he was a transgender man, he found human acceptance but institutional closure. His mentor listened to him with respect and affection, but shortly after he received a phone call from the Jesuit director of vocations that put an end to his dream: "To enter consecrated life you must be born male and remain so for your entire life."

“It was devastating,” confesses James. «For months I had dreamed, I had trusted in God, I had believed that it was possible. And then everything collapsed."

After that refusal, he sought contact with other religious orders, such as the Franciscans, but the response was always the same. Consecrated life, they told him, was not accessible to transgender people according to the current doctrine of the Catholic Church.

Yet, he found acceptance in his parish: he still continues to participate in mass Every day and offer his service. he Works in a non-profit organization and collaborates in various pastoral activities, living the faith with serenity and hope.

It was his spiritual companion who introduced him to Brother Christian Matson, a diocesan hermit in Lexington, Kentucky, the first openly transgender Catholic consecrated person.

Before being welcomed as a hermit in 2022, Matson had also attempted to join the Jesuits several times, between 2011 and 2018. Although he was described as an “excellent” candidate, his application was ultimately rejected due to “medical history”.

Matson says that, for four years in a row, his spiritual directors presented his request to Jesuit superiors in New York, but always received the same negative response.

The reasons, he explains, were two: the alleged "psychosexual complexity" and the doubt that a person who had fought so hard to affirm his identity could really live in obedience.

“They didn't really listen to me,” he says. “They thought that because I had fought to be recognized, I wouldn't be able to obey. But that's not the case."

In one of the rejection emails, they wrote to him that "the Jesuits are not a place to hide from the difficulties of public ministry." «If I wanted to hide – I replied – I certainly wouldn't try to join the Jesuits».

Matson didn't give up. He even refused the offer to become an Episcopal priest, because he felt that his vocation was fully within the Catholic Church.

In 2021 he was welcomed by Bishop John Stowe of Lexington, who admitted him to the novitiate as a diocesan hermit. He took his first vows in 2022 and renewed them for three years in 2023.

Today Matson is a point of reference for other Catholic transgender men who feel called to consecrated life. The small group he created – as he says, “born spontaneously” – meets every month online and once a year in person. It is made up of men of profound faith, many of whom have personally experienced discrimination.

“We need to understand that we are here for the Eucharist, for Christ,” says Matson. «We do not want to change the nature of the church, but to live the Gospel fully. Our lives are rooted in Christ."

Il canonista Daniel Quinan, del Minnesota, spiega che casi come questi sono ancora rari ma sempre più attuali. Ogni comunità religiosa, ricorda, ha una propria regola approvata dal Vaticano, e ogni discernimento va valutato singolarmente.

Il diritto canonico oggi si basa ancora sul sesso biologico, il che rende giuridicamente ammissibile il rifiuto di candidati transgender. Tuttavia, sottolinea che la trasparenza e il dialogo dovrebbero essere alla base di ogni vocazione.

A livello teologico e canonico, Quinan non vede alcuna ragione assoluta per escludere le persone transgender dalla vita consacrata. Cita i principi del Codice di Diritto Canonico, in particolare il canone 210, che parla della chiamata universale alla santità, e il canone 597, che stabilisce le condizioni per essere ammessi alla vita religiosa.

«Sarebbe un grave errore – afferma – pensare che l’esperienza transgender sia incompatibile con la vita consacrata. Tutto dipende dal discernimento concreto e dalla relazione con la comunità».

Tra i membri del gruppo di Matson c’è anche George White, trentenne insegnante di religione alla St. Paul’s Catholic School di Leicester, nel Regno Unito. Cresciuto senza fede, decise di farsi battezzare a sedici anni insieme alla sorella gemella, dopo un’esperienza positiva nella scuola cattolica. Quel momento, racconta, fu l’inizio di un cammino che avrebbe cambiato la sua vita.

At twenty-three, White understood that he was transgender, just as the desire to consecrate himself among the Salesians of Don Bosco, known for their educational mission, was growing in him. He soon realized that, in the Catholic Church, that dream would be impossible.

Despite this, his faith did not wane. He continued to feel part of the church, thanks also to religious figures who accompanied him delicately. In particular, he remembers a Salesian priest who told him not to feel guilty about questions about his identity: "It's not something to confess," he told him. That sentence made him understand that there was room for him too.

Today George White believes he is the only openly transgender religion teacher in a Catholic school in the UK. He wrote a chapter on LGBT inclusion in British Catholic schools in the volume Trans Life and the Catholic Church Today (Bloomsbury, UK, 2024, 320 pages).

In June 2024 he attended the Outreach Conference, a large international gathering of LGBTQ+ Catholics, where he met Matson and other discerning Catholic transgender men in person.

«Meeting them reminded me how much I still need to explore my identity – he says -. Now I know I have a space to do it, and it's a grace."

Il 23 ottobre 2024, grazie a don Andrea Conocchia, sacerdote italiano da anni vicino alle persone cattoliche LGBTQ+, White, Matson e altri due uomini transgender – tra cui il giornalista Maxwell Kuzma – hanno potuto incontrare Papa Francesco in piazza San Pietro.

Hanno consegnato così al pontefice una copia del libro Trans Life and the Catholic Church Today, con una lettera personale ciascuno.

Dopo essersi presentati come cattolici transgender, il papa ha stretto loro la mano, li ha benedetti e li ha ringraziati. «È difficile descrivere ciò che ho provato», ha confidato White dopo l’incontro.

* Madeleine Davison è giornalista del National Catholic Reporter e si occupa di giustizia sociale, fede e diritti delle persone LGBTQ+.

Original text: Transgender Catholics face barriers to religious life, find peace in communities