At the age of twenty-five, Benjamin James Brenkert--a young man from Long Island, a social work student, and an internet vocation to the priesthood--entered one of the historically boldest, influential, apostolic religious orders of the Roman Catholic Church. Aged thirty-four, and a member of the Society of Jesus (the Jesuits) in good standing, Brenkert was missioned to the laity by his last religious superior. Brenkert could not come out publicly as a gay Jesuit and support his LGBTQ peers who were being fired from various church employment and volunteer activities because of whom they loved. Brenkert had never concealed his sexuality from his religious superiors, he knew all too well what was written in the Church's Catechism about homoseuxals. Still, he felt uniquely called to respond to God's invitation to serve him in total love as a priest, something confirmed in him in prayer during his thirty-day silent retreat and affirmed to him by his religious superiors and peers throughout his life in the Jesuits. In his Open Letter to Pope Francis in 2014 Brenkert wrote, "Pope Francis . . .I ask you to instruct the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops to tell Catholic institutions not to fire any more LGBTQ Catholics. I ask you to speak out against laws that criminalize and oppress LGBTQ people around the globe. These actions would bring true life to your statement, 'Who am I to judge?'" In 2015, the United States Supreme Court struck down bans on same-sex marriage in Obergell v. Hodges and in 2020, the United States Supreme Court expanded the Civil Rights Act of 1964 to include discrimination based on sexual orientation and gender identity. Despite these landmark achievements in the public sector, LGBTQ Catholics still cannot receive communion and must always seek reconciliation. Their flourishing as part of their religious community is always frustrated. Brenkert's account of his life before, in, and after the Jesuits is interwoven with trials and tribulations, but remains always full of hope, written candidly and with bracing honesty. Brenkert offers readers the opportunity to join him on a theological and spiritual pilgrimage, one that ends with readers making a discernment. The world today is full of distraction, misinformation, and timidity, Brenkert's pilgrimage is full of conviction, heartful, written with an eagerness to help people of faith and no faith at all find their true selves, all for the greater glory of God.
When something newsworthy happens, a main character in that news story may capitalize on it by publishing their story. Maybe they survived a tragic event or witnessed heroism. Their stories may be good and valuable, but the timeliness of their retelling is short lived and, quickly, their stories look quirky and out of place on a book shelf.
Ben Brenkert's "A Catechism of the Heart" is a personal story of someone who is not as well known as other autobiographies, but it also holds value across time. His story is part autobiography, but, more importantly, a confession from the heart as he tells his tale about being gay, being pulled towards the Jesuits, and, eventually, leaving the Jesuits after seeing that LGBTQ people could not and would not be fully accepted by the Church.
This is a courageous and very honest confession from start to finish. Ben does not hold back in any of his thoughts, his struggles, pains, joys, and pleasures. I confess that I know Ben, but did not know so many things about him, his challenges, and the paths he took from when I knew him in college to today. And what a life he has led! From the people he has met to the places he has traveled, Ben has lived a full life, which is something that so many of us cannot say. In fact, his retelling reminds me that most people have lives that are far more interesting than they themselves recognize.
It was heartwarming and sad to see how faith was so important to Ben as a child and as he grew up and recognized who he was, including his sexuality. His faith was a comfort and a home to him, one that is really all encompassing, and filled holes of longing when he had so much anguish, doubt, and rejection for who he was and who he wanted to love. His honesty in describing his search for gay love and sex is a reminder that physical affection is valuable in itself and such companionship, whether straight, gay, or lesbian, fulfills something deep in our humanity and shouldn't be shunned by faith or society.
The progress made in the Western world on LGBTQ rights and acceptance is promising, but the need for people to have a home in a Church that loves them is urgent. Gay people can't just wait for a Church that calls over a billion people adherents to finally say that they are worthy for who they are, unconditionally.
I was saddened to see how many people, from family to Church leaders, seemed to work and pray for Ben to just leave his sexuality behind instead of just fully embracing and loving him from the start. Perhaps more families would offer that unconditional love to their LGBTQ sons and daughters if the Church would give them the OK to do so.
Ben's story should hopefully encourage others to feel brave enough to be who they are, no matter who they love, and that they should love fully. I'm glad he has peace and his story offers hope that others will demand progress.
There are some grammar and name usage issues that keep me from giving this a full 5 stars, but I cannot commend enough Ben's honesty. His story is not about one interesting moment in time, but a life of self actualization, something that all of us should desire, no matter our views of faith.
What would life for LGBT youth be like if all 1.2 billion Catholics accepted them in full communion? How does the pastoral practice of sexuality blindness erase LGBT people from their own stories? What privilege would gay priests need to sacrifice to come out of the closet and live as openly as the rest of us? Can closeted priests ever truly collaborate with LGBT lay colleagues who have fought and struggled for love and acceptance most of our adult lives?
These are all questions that came up for me while reading this memoir. It's an excellent read and a story that needs to be told. Representation matters and I hope we hear more stories of LGBT people who broke the cycle of religious and spiritual oppression.