Hidden Mercy: AIDS, Catholics, and the Untold Stories of Compassion in the Face of Fear

by Michael J. O'Loughlin

The 1980s and 1990s, the height of the AIDS crisis in the United States, was decades ago now, and many of the stories from this time remain hidden: A Catholic nun from a small Midwestern town packs up her life to move to New York City, where she throws herself into a community under assault from HIV and AIDS. A young priest sees himself in the many gay men dying from AIDS and grapples with how best to respond, eventually coming out as gay and putting his own career on the line. A gay Catholic with HIV loses his partner to AIDS and then flees the church, focusing his energy on his own health rather than fight an institution seemingly rejecting him.

Set against the backdrop of the HIV and AIDS epidemic of the late twentieth century and the Catholic Church's crackdown on gay and lesbian activists, journalist Michael O'Loughlin searches out the untold stories of those who didn't look away, who at great personal cost chose compassion--even as he seeks insight for LGBTQ people of faith struggling to find a home in religious communities today.

This is one journalist's--gay and Catholic himself--compelling picture of those quiet heroes who responded to human suffering when so much of society--and so much of the church--told them to look away. These pure acts of compassion and mercy offer us hope and inspiration as we continue to confront existential questions about what it means to be Americans, Christians, and human beings responding to those most in need.

Genres: Nonfiction, History, LGBT, Religion, Catholic, Faith, Memoir

281 pages, Hardcover

First published November 30, 2021

Reviews

[Ron Selgratj · Rating 5 out of 5]

There is little in the book that I did not personally witness in Los Angeles, albeit from a distance. When historians in 2220 wish to understand the interplay between the Catholic Church, the AIDS epidemic, the persons who suffered from the disease, and the Catholics who took care of them, this will be the source. It also rekindled in my long forgotten feelings. O’Loughlin has made a major contribution to the dialogue between the gay community and the Catholic Church. Never met you Mike, but thank you.

[Linds · Rating 5 out of 5]

This book brought me to tears over and over again - tears of mourning for queer lives lost to ignorance and fear, but also tears of joy for those poignant moments when Catholics stepped into the true light of their faith to defend the rights and the lives of the weakest. As a queer Catholic myself, the author’s quest to reconcile his beloved faith and his sexuality hit so close to home, and that his answers lay in seeking his history speaks so closely to how I have reconciled myself as well. This book is so important, so special, so beautiful.

[Kathie · Rating 5 out of 5]

This is the story of HIV/AIDS at the height of the epidemic and the Catholic Church’s response. Especially the Church’s lack of acceptance of the LGBT community. Since I worked in AIDS care during this time period it was deeply personal. I also went to school at St Vincent’s Hospital which is prominently featured. Although the Church itself did not respond to the epidemic well, there were many individual priests and nuns who worked in the trenches to help care for those affected by AIDS. St Vincent’s was at the forefront of this care.

[Mallory Nygard · Rating 4 out of 5]

A helpful insight to a rarely spoken about history

[Emily Shore · Rating 5 out of 5]

This gave great insight into such a dark period of time in the Church, a true testament to “the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness has not overcome it”

[Randal · Rating 2 out of 5]

A heartfelt examination of the reaction of LGB Catholics during a time of uncertainty and fear. It is beautiful to see how many loving people were able to overcome stigma to put the Gospel into action by helping those suffering from AIDS. The truly loving response of many religious sisters and priests was inspiring. I found particularly interesting the section on the experiences of gay priests during the AIDS crisis: I think this topic is deserving of its own standalone book.

Despite being an important read which I'd recommend, and despite feeling like I learned a lot, I was not impressed with the author or some of the tone in parts of the book. It did seem like the process of research and writing the book itself was a kind of catharsis for the author as he reconciled his faith and his sexuality; this unfortunately made some passages feel self-absorbed and self-indulgent. His engagement with actual Catholic theology also does not go much deeper than to brush aside and dismiss traditional Catholic "theology of the body" as being backwards and hate-centered, which isn't accurate.

Also, I've read several books on this topic, and what strikes me in reading books on AIDS by gay authors is how unfortunately intransigent many in the LGBT community remain about the reckless behavior of men during the height of the crisis.

While recognizing sensitively that this community at the time felt at war against unfair stigmatization and under siege by fear and hate, I think we can still safely discuss the issue of how many men completely ignored public health recommendations and were militantly unwilling to mitigate some of their more extreme behavior. An unwillingness to deal with this unfortunate reality undercuts many histories of the time and does not allow us to engage with any more nuanced understanding of this unique crisis.

Despite all this, I think it is important to read and learn about this topic, especially for Catholics, and especially for traditional Catholics, as we are called on to feed the hungry and care for the ill, and "the king will say...in reply, ‘Amen, I say to you, whatever you did for one of these least brothers of mine, you did for me.’"

[Fred · Rating 5 out of 5]

Great work in documenting the HIV/AIDS crisis among gay men in the US and the response of Catholics, both supportive and oppositional. A distinctive perspective about history in my lifetime. I lived through many of the events in the book, and it was very helpful to hear about them from those who were at the forefront of care in those days. Having listened to the Plague podcast, much of the book was familiar but reading the book made things hit home in a new way. And there are some new stories and details that weren't in the podcast as well. I love the journalistic approach of the book, getting at what happened with people, how they reacted and responded, and tracing their journey even to today.

[booklady]

Kindle book is as expensive as the print edition. Wasn't the whole point of Kindle to save paper and money? 🤔🤨

[Andrew Dittmar · Rating 5 out of 5]

Hidden Mercy: AIDS, Catholic, and the Untold Stories of Compassion in the Face of Fear by Michael J. O'Loughlin

28 December 2025 (initial reaction, incorporated into fuller review); 31 December 2025

I genuinely cannot think of a time I've had a more visceral reaction to a book. I'm going to be thinking about it, and probably redrafting this, for a long time. I marked so many pages to return to. What follows is a bit scattered, but it's a start.

One of the weirder realizations of my 30s has been that I am now older than MANY of the people who died of AIDS, as well as the friends who cared for their friends dying of AIDS. I cannot fathom that.

We are also more than 40 years separated from the earliest days of the AIDS crisis. This year (2025) marked the 30th anniversary of the peak of AIDS deaths in the United States. While medical advances have changed life and care for those with HIV/AIDS, there are so many stories that are lost. I find myself getting more emotional as time passes when I read books about the crisis, because there is so much that's already been lost to time.

So. I cried a lot reading this book. I also got REALLY angry a few times. Like, almost throwing the book at the wall levels of anger. Cursing some people to hell levels of anger.

My emotions started early. Author Michael O'Loughlin talks early in the book about one of the earliest AIDS memorials in New York City, dating to 1992 I believe. The memorial is, remarkably, in a Catholic Church. O'Loughlin's reflections are two-fold: that there as in fact an AIDS memorial inside a Catholic Church, which still feels remarkable to me - and also the fact that the memorial was tucked far away from where most would see it in the church, thereby reflecting the shame present despite the memorial's existence. Over the course of O'Loughlin's research for the book, that Roman Catholic Diocese of New York closed that particular parish. I've been scared to death to look up and see if the building, and therefore the memorial, still stands; if the memorial was preserved in some way; or if the church building was demolished taking the memorial with it.

That sort of reflects the tensions in the book. The fact remains that, like basically every other institution, the Catholic Church's response to the AIDS crisis was woefully inadequate - and despite that, there are remarkable stories of those who bucked the prevailing winds of the Catholic hierarchy of served selflessly.

This book includes many stories of nuns and priests who refused to follow along not just with the church but with the broader culture of the 1980s and 1990s that viewed AIDS victims with disdain. Some of the stories are a bit funny in a dark way: lifetime-professed nuns learning about gay sex practices, contending with things like condoms, etc. But mostly those stories are inspiring: so few leaders in any arena, but especially church leaders, look good in retrospect when discussing the AIDS crisis. That some of those who do were Midwestern nuns is heartening.

But, then again, there's the church hierarchy.

The passage in particular made me so angry that I nearly threw the book across the room relates to the issue of condoms: "A handful of bishops condemned the document [a cursory pseudo-ish possibly-but-not-even suggestion that condoms might not be entirely bad for prevention of the spread of HIV], including Cardinal Bernard Law of Boston and Archbishop Theodore McCarrick of Newark." (pp. 90)

The Catholic Church has long been against birth control, so I suppose the condemnation of condoms is unsurprising. But.

Bernard Law resigned from his post as archbishop of Boston when it was revealed that he had spent decades covering up accusations of child abuse and pedophilia. In one notable instance, Law was made aware of accusations of such abuse against a particular priest - and then proceeded to move that priest to a parish with even more children. Theodore McCarrick was defrocked in 2019 after facing decades of accusations of inappropriate sexual conduct with both minors and seminary students. The Vatican put a report out in 2020 detailing the charges against him that is 461 pages long.

There are so many priests, bishops, prelates, and other Vatican staff that were implicated in sex abuse scandals of the Catholic Church - not even Pope Francis escapes that ignominy. The fact that sexual abuse was not a bridge to far, but CONDOMS were... my blood boils.

But most of the book made me weep, sometimes actually.

Some of the stories aren't exactly unique. There are books documenting families disowning their children with AIDS. A short documentary I once encountered detailed a woman trying to preserve a cemetery where she'd paid to for the burials of AIDS victims whose families would not claim their bodies.

One such story:

"A young man, twenty-two... was not yet out to his family, but he wanted his mother to know the truth, so he told her he was gay and tried to steel her for the battle ahead. He hoped the revelation would help bring them closer. He was wrong. 'Twenty-two years ago, my only mistake,' the mother said, wrapping her arm around her son, 'was not having an abortion.'" (pp. 180)

And then there are the priests. Priests died of AIDS: "But in that same year [1987], the National Catholic Reporter published a series of stories about homosexuality in the priesthood, in which a research suggested that as many as 26 percent of priests were gay, while some seminarians and priests guessed that a majority of seminarians were gay. The implication was the even if just a small percentage of gay priests broke their vows, HIV and AIDS could present an ongoing challenge for the priesthood." (pp. 146) "While some bishops stood by their priests after a diagnosis of HIV... others meted out severe punishments. In Atlanta, priests who were diagnosed with AIDS had their fitness for the priesthood questioned, as church leaders pondered whether a priest with HIV could sufficiently condemn homosexuality. In Houston, a doctor said he had treated three priests for HIV and that he was stunned when they each were thrown out of their rectories because of their illness." (pp. 147) There are also passages about priests dying of AIDS, and church leaders attempting to hide that fact from families, friends, and funeralgoers (see pp. 151).

Even with all this, though, there are the stories of those who stayed. I found myself intrigued by parishes that became known for being congregations of "the gays and the grays", like Most Holy Redeemer, a parish situated in the Castro neighborhood in San Francisco.

I marked more pages to consider. I was vaguely aware of William Hart McNichols, who is discussed in some depth in the book - many of the pages I marked either relate to him or to his work directly. (I'm hopeful to be able to track down some of the works that O'Loughlin describes.)

I don't know. I've gotta say, I did not expect this book to rivet me so, make me feel so deeply, and also make me want to go on my own pilgrimages to some of these places.

I'm shelving this on my favorites shelf. "Favorite" feels like a weird word to affix to this, but it certainly made me feel deeply, so I guess it's appropriate.


Other quotes
The following pages I marked for one reason or another. Much of them relate to content above as well as much about William Hart McNichols - definitely planning to buy some of his prints!
pp. 55, 136, 229, 231, 232, 233, 234, 236, 237, 238, 246, 247, 248, 254


Reading history:
Normally I keep this in my private notes section, but I'm moving it. Yay!

Reading history was not added on Goodreads, but was instead kept on a post-it note with the book.


Started December 13th, 2025.
Finished December 29th, 2025.


December 13th, 2025: read author's note + chapters 1-4 (pp. 1-58) in physical book.

December 28th, 2025: read chapters 5-18 (pp. 59-242) in physical book.

December 29th, 2025: read epilogue + acknowledgments (pp. 243-254) in physical book.

[Austin Caleb · Rating 5 out of 5]

As someone aspiring to religious life in the Anglican tradition, I read each page of this with delight, reaping enormous inspiration. This kind of faithful advocacy, often -- though not always -- made by queer Catholic religious, is the kind of life I would hope to make for myself as an openly gay monk.

Its stories are a refreshing counterpart to the dreadful history that the other end of the Roman communion has written for themselves. The flamboyant Spirit of Jesus Christ is wildly at work among queer Roman Catholics, and this masterful account tells us how.

[Scott Pearson · Rating 4 out of 5]

American religion has bifurcated along ideological lines in recent decades. Some voices trumpet a moralistic approach while others trumpet a compassion-driven approach. Some of the early splitting can be observed in the story of how the church treated those afflicted by AIDS in the 1980s. Moralistic voices today still seem to hold the loudest places in the Christian church, but compassionate approaches can be seen everywhere. Journalist Michael O’Loughlin records some of those stories before their bearers face the grave. He paints a picture where people in the pews take a very different approach than those in the pulpits and where professional courage met human care in the face of suffering.

Congruent with the stories in that era, this book intertwines three basic themes: AIDS, homosexuality, and Roman Catholicism. None of those fit me: I am a heterosexual Protestant who does not have HIV. However, I’m interested in all three topics. Like fundamentalist Protestants (my original tradition), some in the Roman Catholic church issue stark condemnations of homosexuality. These voices often echo loudest, unfortunately. O’Loughlin brings out the opposite edge within the church – those who take great personal risks to embrace those afflicted with disease. At the time of the 1980s, homosexuality and HIV were synonymous, unlike today where HIV’s impact is broader. Nuns, priests, and everyday churchgoers aimed to humanize disease’s disfiguration as part of their Christian mission, much as Jesus Christ welcomed the sick.

Of course, moralistic voices in the church are never content with the social radicalism of inclusion and compassion. Yet both moral teachings and the radical welcoming of marginalized groups have a prominent place in the Christian tradition. This book tells stories of celibate nuns who mastered every detail of gay sex so that they could minister to those with AIDS in their communities. It tells of gay priests who advocated for those afflicted with HIV through educational art – intertwining the crucifixion of Jesus with the dehumanizing death of AIDS sufferers. It tells of gay men who could not escape Christian spirituality despite leadership’s loud shamings.

O’Loughlin writes with a highly social tone oriented towards compassion. It’s no surprise he writes for the prominent Jesuit magazine America which conveys a need for social justice from Christian voices. His attitude is invariably inclusive about those in the LGBT community and the church. While he does bring up the Protestant groups, he is staunchly Roman Catholic in his perspective. He tries to wed the lives of the saints with the spiritual lives of homosexuals.

This book most directly addresses Roman Catholics in the United States with a journalistic tone, much like a mainstream news magazine. The author does not advance an argument as much as chronicle stories that might be soon lost to history. It can also find a readership with English-speaking Roman Catholics worldwide interested in American social justice. Further, those who, like me, have an curiosity about the fascinating tale of HIV can benefit from this unique intertwining of religion and those ostracized. HIV has exposed some of the worst elements of society, but it also has conjured up some of the most virtuous aspects, too. I’m grateful and inspired to have learned about those who put themselves at risk for the well being of their neighbors.

[The Ingenious Gentleman Don Quixote of La Mancha · Rating 4 out of 5]

I'm glad I read it. Part of the message is that gay Catholics can love God and embrace the life of the Church, and there were compassionate priests and nuns who showed great love to gay men who were dying in the AIDs epidemic. However, O'Loughlin doesn't fairly spell out the Church's position on condoms. Now I can look past that and appreciate the book simply for publishing these stories at all, which are invaluable and should be remembered. But the Church's position on contraception applies only within marriage; the Church technically does not have a position on whether nonmarried individuals should use contraception because the underlying position is that they shouldn't be having sex at all. And as a matter of public health, what kind of a solution is it when condoms - even if used properly - are only 90-95% effective in preventing HIV? Look it up if you don't believe me. Real life usage is even less effective. No, seriously... If you were facing a public health crisis where hundreds of thousands of gay men were dying of a sexually transmitted disease, would you tell your gay loved one to take his chances with a condom or to tone down his sexual practices? Obviously, your chances of acquiring HIV and AIDs are reduced when you use a condom; but when you multiply the failure rate by the hundreds of thousands of potential HIV-positive condom users, you could end up with tens of thousands of new HIV infections - even with the use of condoms. Failed contraception is a real thing, and "safe sex" does not actually exist outside of marriage. On the contrary, condoms simply give irresponsible sex the veneer of responsibility. O'Loughlin dances around these issues without spelling them out clearly, and he almost seems to blame the Church for gay people dying of AIDs - as if they would have listened to the Church on contraception while ignoring the Church on sex outside of marriage. News flash: If gay men aren't using condoms, it's not because the Church told them so. All that being said, I don't expect to agree with everyone all the time, and I can still learn a great deal from someone with whom I may have some differences of opinion. And to be fair, I did agree with a lot of what O'Loughlin had to say, and I thank him for writing the book.

[Cara (Wilde Book Garden) · Rating 5 out of 5]

Such a brilliant and necessary book. I think Michael O'Loughlin did a phenomenal job of incorporating his own story and perspective into the book while letting the people he interviewed and research speak for themselves and keeping a strong focus on the history itself. I'm also impressed at the way he would realize and confront his own biases and expectations throughout his time working on this project.

There are so many people I want to learn more about now that I had never heard of before reading this book. And I think the author did a really fantastic job of addressing the messy and complex history this book represents (i.e., the official position of the Catholic hierarchy which led to so much more death and suffering vs. some of the ordinary Catholics on the ground who were actually loving their neighbor and doing so much good - some laypeople and some priests and nuns).

This book also highlights variety - there are so many different ways people provided help to those suffering with AIDS, there are so many ways different gay Catholics attempted and still attempt to reconcile their faith with their sexuality (and some ultimately can't reconcile those things, which he shows is okay too) - and all of these different choices are shown with care and nuance.

This is such an important piece of history and I highly recommend for anyone interested in LGBTQ+ history, religious history, or any combination thereof. (O'Loughlin states that the audience he was thinking most of is other gay Catholics and their loved ones, but I think he also does a good job of providing context for readers who may not be familiar with the Church.)

CW: Grief, HIV / AIDS, homophobia, references to: suicide, sexual abuse, conversion therapy

[Jay · Rating 5 out of 5]

This was really, really good. Incredibly hard to read in places, but really good. The author is queer and Catholic and I think he does an absolutely phenomenal job of capturing the pain and frustration experienced by queer Catholics who are trying to reconcile their faith with their queerness (for context, I was raised Catholic). I’ve had a lot of experiences with queer people telling me it’s not possible to be queer and Catholic or insulting Catholicism, and of course experiences with Catholics not accepting my queerness. This book does a great job of respecting queer people who both stayed with the church and left, rather than casting any judgment on their decision. It still holds the church as an institution responsible, though, with heartbreaking stories of the people who died feeling rejected by their faith and the way the church abandoned those trying to make a difference in the HIV/AIDS crisis. The book begins by establishing a few of the key figures at the intersection of AIDS crisis work and Catholicism – a nun, a gay priest, and a gay lay Catholic – and weaves together their stories with the broader backdrop of the crisis, other vignettes, and the author’s own life. It was gripping, heartbreaking, and absolutely a crucial read for all Catholics – but I’d recommend it to queer people as well.

[Mary Ann · Rating 4 out of 5]

The world faced a medical crisis in the 1980s and 1990s as young men began dying of AIDS. The disease was frightening and because those who suffered early in this crisis were mostly gay, a mix of homophobia, fear, and outrage paralyzed the traditional medical support systems. In this compelling chronicle, O’Loughlin presents these early days of AIDS through the lens of those individuals who with an abundance of courage, Christian compassion, and love responded. The author tells the stories of several individuals, but the majority of this story is woven around two individuals: Sister Carol Baltosiewich, a Catholic Hospital Sister of Saint Francis from the Midwest, and Father Bill McNichols, a gay Jesuit priest and artist. Around these two individuals, the author describes the complex response of the Catholic Church as well as the deeply personal responses of local parish priests and their congregations in the hard-hit cities of New York, Chicago, and San Francisco. The stories are heartbreakingly deeply personal, but also inspiring. This is a powerful book providing insights into a time that on the one hand seems far distant, yet on the other is just a day away.

[Zeph Webster · Rating 3 out of 5]

3.5

The stories of compassion and bravery in the face of the AIDS crisis make Hidden Mercy a worthwhile read, but I confess (!!) that the smallness of scope in these individual stories versus the scale of the church's institutional bigotry just made me depressed and want more of a theological/ moral reckoning, either from the author or the subjects at hand. It's a little bit like all the "heartwarming" stories you hear about a small town that raises money for a little girl's cancer treatments, when really, we should see this as a huge inditement of the greed at the heart of the American healthcare system or the hypocrisy and ugliness of the church.

That being said, I don't know how much I can hold it against the book. To do justice to that theme is a huge subject, possibly best left for another book. Plus, O'Loughlin does what he sets out to do extremely well, and if anybody is curious about the subject, I would still highly encourage this book.

For now, I will just say—once again—that Catholicism is wasted on Catholics.

[willowdog · Rating 4 out of 5]

These stories of Catholic individuals who saw the need and stood up to help individuals with AIDS when their church and the hierarchy of the church was looking away or condemning these individuals are truly inspiring. O'Loughlin relates these stories with such compassionate that I found myself moved to tears a number of times. Very strong writing. As a HIV+ gay man and no longer a Catholic for many of the reasons stated in this work, I kept thinking of the strength of these individuals. But more so that their religion probably played some role, but in the end it was their true humanity. I kept thinking that there are these stories within all religious groups, but I'm glad to have been able to read about these individuals. They are people that give one a sense of hope in people.

My thanks to Edelweiss/Above the Treeline for providing this free ebook in exchange for a unbiased review.

[Katie · Rating 5 out of 5]

This book took me almost 10 months to finish. It was too painful at times and I had to put it down. It was too beautiful at times, I had to savor it. My heart has been broken in so many pieces for the way that the Catholic Church has treated the LGBTQ+ community so many times in my life… reading stories of the “underground” efforts of inclusion and accompaniment in this book reminded me there is sometimes beauty in the most broken of spaces. It also affirmed my resentment and anger towards the leadership of an institution that preaches the Gospel and yet their policies and behaviors often portray the opposite of the message and ministry of Jesus. Anyways…. Not a light read. But I recommend it. Really to anyone who wants to better understand the intersection of faith, religion and sexuality…

[Jim · Rating 5 out of 5]

Powerful , disturbing and inspirational. The book is about how individual priests and nuns ministered to aids infected individuals in the 1980's. The book highlights the shame and guilt felt by many and the institutional hostility towards those infected with the HIV virus. Risking their reputations and welfare these religious had to fight society and their own Church in many cases. It forces one to contemplate what Jesus would do and how each of us would react. Some might find the topic uncomfortable as it covers the religious who were also infected and often times abandoned by their orders. Thankfully medication was found to fight this infection, but for many years infecton was a death sentence. I am still impacted by reading this book. It is not a comfortable or easy read, but very important.

[Gwen Devereux · Rating 1 out of 5]

Although the description about this book says that it’s about heroes who ministered to the suffering during the HIV AIDS epidemic, it’s really only a window dressing for the book. The real plot is about the author “coming out of the closet” boasting about his own homosexuality and trying to point out all of the ways in which he doesn’t approve of the Catholic Churches stance on LGBTQ issues. I was sad to find that it’s not a story of heroes but rather of pride and trying to promote all the things LGBTQ. I didn’t appreciate the bait and switch.

[McKenna · Rating 5 out of 5]

I’m very tired so this might be sort of incoherent but this was beautiful in most senses of the word. It added a new perspective to a time period that I have learned a lot about and care a lot about. It was very very interesting.

I think that if you want to see an intersection of religion and lgbt people that this would be a good book to read. It’s definitely trying to share more positive perspectives, but it doesn’t gloss over the negative ones.

Learning our history is important, and this book is a pretty good example at that

[Max Pins · Rating 5 out of 5]

made me cry on a train, on a plane, on park benches.....every other page made me tear up with joy and grief. an incredible work of history that any reader would find interesting and a beautiful and insightful work sharing the lives of so many who died unnecessarily and the people who cared for them. I believe this adds dimension to the catholic church that we all benefit from learning about, and, as a gay raised Catholic like Michael, it healed parts of me and shined a light on people who lived true to the social justice tenets I love about the church.

[Danielle · Rating 5 out of 5]

It’s impossible to read this book without weeping for the lives lost, the bigotry and hatred so many felt, and the countless acts of tender mercy and Christ’s love fulfilled by so many. I loved this and think it’s a profound and unique look at the Catholic response to the AIDs epidemic; a history that, as mentioned by the author, is slowly being erased as those who lived it have left this world.

[Matt Fowler · Rating 5 out of 5]

A must-read for anyone who has struggled with their sexual orientation and their religion. While this book focuses on the Catholic church in particular, I found it extremely helpful for me even though I'm not as tight with that side of Christianity. The chronicling of the AIDS epidemic had me feeling some sort of way as it's easy for a millennial to view AIDS as something that happened long ago and really it's far fresher than we acknowledge.

[Kate · Rating 5 out of 5]

This book was an eye opener for me for so many reasons. I learned a lot about the Catholic Church’s response to the HIV and AIDS epidemic in the 80s and 90s. It also highlighted some of my own biases I still have against the capital C Church. I absolutely adored Mike’s style of writing in this book and enjoyed sitting with it as it felt like I was listening to an old friend. Very much enjoyed this book club book:)

[John Daniell · Rating 5 out of 5]

This was a beautiful book that tells a critically important story. It was obviously sad, and dry at points, but well-written and accessible. My critique is that it mostly focuses on the Chicagoland, New York, and Bay Areas, while I’m sure there were other important work on the AIDS-crisis being done by Catholics in other parts of the country as well that I would like to see documented (Boston, for example). Overall, a great book.

[Maryellen Cyr · Rating 4 out of 5]

A compelling look at how individual Catholics lived the message of the gospels, in spite of their Church. It's hard to be faithful to a Church that is still deaf and blind to the needs of so many of their people. But, it is heartening to know that there are people who get the message and do what we, as Christians, are called to do.

[Jill · Rating 5 out of 5]

Michael O'Loughlin takes us through the time period when, for me, the members of the LGBT community became visible. Imagine that we, as Catholics, were so willing to exclude this group of people and to claim that they deserved what they got. But to be inspired at the same time by all the people, Sr. Carol, Sr. Mary Ellen, Fr. William McNichols, and so many others who did what Jesus would do.

[CC · Rating 5 out of 5]

perfection!! made me feel so SEEN and like my experience is worth something. the prose is natural and comfortable while also being incredibly profound. i couldn’t put it down!! could not recommend more to anyone of any identity. even though it focuses on gay-catholic-church-aids interaction, at its core, it’s a narrative about humanity, compassion, resilience, and pure unadulterated love.

[Heidi Harrison · Rating 5 out of 5]

One of the most beautiful, compelling, sad, and life-giving books I’ve read. I read it in small doses so as to let each story and person—really icons written by O’Loughlin—sink in and work on me, and these icons of mercy and grace in this book will stay with me and inspire me for years.