Cardinal Dolan was appointed by Pope Benedict Cardinal Dolan, and has since become famous for his recent suit against Pres. Barack Obama because of the contraception mandate.
I was shocked by this.It's not the Church I grew up in. Saddened, I sat down to write a private letter. However, since there has been no response, I feel it's necessary to share it with the world. Below is the letter I sent to Cardinal Dolan:
Dear Cardinal Dolan:
My name is Jennifer Morgan. I am a Catholic, raised in the Biloxi diocese. I am also a lesbian.
Please, Your Eminence, don't stop reading. I have much to say, but I say none of it with hatred or condemnation. I have been hated and condemned too much in my life to do that to you.
I have been reading of the controversy surrounding a letter sent to you by Carl Siciliano, the director of the Ali Forney Center in New York City, and the subsequent resignation of a Catholic Charities board member. To say that I ran a gauntlet of emotions is an understatement. Anger did creep in, but the most pervasive emotion was sadness.
Sadness is an emotion I am used to, but in my life when I am sad, the safety of Catholic Church has seen me through the darkness. I could not write you this letter if it wasn't for a Catholic priest who saved my life multiple times. I would have been emotionally broken years ago if not for an empty church on a weekday where I could talk out loud to God, or sit in silence and safety.
You see, I owe the Catholic Church in my hometown-both the building and the pastor- my life. I owe my faith in Jesus Christ to a man who decided to love me despite my sexuality, and who never ceased to lift me up when I'd fallen. Friends and family members failed to look at me as my priest did. Family and friends' love withered and faded. However, a priest with a large congregation, and many outside responsibilities, decided to never give up on me. Because of him, my faith in God-damaged by hateful comments by other Christians- grew immeasurably.
As I write this, tears are streaming down my face, and I can't stop them. They aren't tears for me, but tears for all of those in the LGBT community who never had the opportunity to be loved as I was. I weep for those that once held Christ deep within themselves, only to have Him replaced with cynicism and hate because of condemnation by others.
How could this be what Christ wanted?
I can't begin to count the number of friends I've seen kicked out of their homes and families, and I can't count on both hands the number of friends I've lost to suicide. Did they call out to Him before they took the pills or shot the gun? Did they scream to God for clarity and peace? Did they huddle homeless in the streets, and pray for guidance? Or did they let cynicism and hate—the greatest weapons of Satan—kill their mind, body and soul?
Then there are the funerals. The funerals for my brothers and sisters lost to the pain of being LGBT in this country. The thing about a funeral, as I'm sure you know, is that you don't see your friend. He/she is dead, and closed in a casket in front of the altar. What we see at the funerals are the family and friends of the deceased. We see the mother, torn by the inevitable questions and guilt. We see the father struggle to comprehend the loss. We see the siblings caught in between their own anger/guilt, and the guilt of the parents. We feel pain so immense that it strangles us.
Why does any of this have to happen? Why must a child be homeless in the streets? Why must a mother weep in loss? Why should families be separated all because of someone's sexuality? Why must moral superiority trump an individual's humanity?
I'm afraid that the question of why is one that we don't ask enough. It is the question of humanity, and if we fail to ask the question, we fail to understand the individual.
So why am I writing you today? Cardinal Dolan, it is my sincere hope and greatest wish that you will reconsider visiting the Ali Forney Center. I can't ask you to reconsider your stance without seeing those of us that suffer the most.
You were blessed with four siblings, and two parents. What if, in your youth, your parents had hated you for something you couldn't change, and kicked you out? What if one day you were told how loved you were, only to be told you are no longer welcome?
It is the most painful and damaging feeling in the world, Your Eminence. It breaks your heart and soul simultaneously. I don't believe that you hate LGBT people. I believe that you might even have friends, maybe even family, that are members of my community. Wouldn't you want them to feel love? Would you ever wish them to walk alone? Maybe I'm naive , or maybe it's just my faith in Jesus Christ. Either way, I refuse to believe that you have simply cast us aside as "evil," or "barbarians" like so many have.
You would not have to go to the Center as a Cardinal. This shouldn't be a PR stunt. You don't have to go to the Center as anything but a man. After all, Christ didn't walk amongst the least of His children with condemnation, or even with a sense of superiority. Instead, He walked amongst the people that society condemned, asking and posing the question of why. By asking why, He lifted up the downtrodden, and brought love and understanding.
I'm not writing this believing you will walk into the Center, and immediately change all Church policy. Honestly, I'm not. Instead, I am praying that you will walk into the Center and listen. We spend so much time internalizing the hateful comments of others, that when someone is there to listen it is empowering. It sounds so simple, but even just a hug and a nice word can save someone in my community's life.
Your Eminence, when someone condemns my love of Christ because of my sexuality, I say that I will not spend my life hating Christ because of six verses in the Bible. If on the day of my death, the Lord says that my sexuality negates any good I've done, then so be it. I look forward to the day I am judged based on the totality of my life. If Christ sends me to hell, no angel will have to throw me into the Lake of Fire. I'll swan dive in. I'd rather walk in the light of the Lord, then drown in the shadows of hate.
All I want for my community is for each individual to at least have the opportunity to feel the same. All I want for the families of the members of my community is to never see them struggle through loss because of ignorance. That opportunity comes through love, and understanding. Please, Cardinal Dolan, reconsider!
Thank you for your time, and may God's blessing be upon you,
My name is Jennifer Morgan. I am a Catholic, raised in the Biloxi diocese. I am also a lesbian.
Please, Your Eminence, don't stop reading. I have much to say, but I say none of it with hatred or condemnation. I have been hated and condemned too much in my life to do that to you.
I have been reading of the controversy surrounding a letter sent to you by Carl Siciliano, the director of the Ali Forney Center in New York City, and the subsequent resignation of a Catholic Charities board member. To say that I ran a gauntlet of emotions is an understatement. Anger did creep in, but the most pervasive emotion was sadness.
Sadness is an emotion I am used to, but in my life when I am sad, the safety of Catholic Church has seen me through the darkness. I could not write you this letter if it wasn't for a Catholic priest who saved my life multiple times. I would have been emotionally broken years ago if not for an empty church on a weekday where I could talk out loud to God, or sit in silence and safety.
You see, I owe the Catholic Church in my hometown-both the building and the pastor- my life. I owe my faith in Jesus Christ to a man who decided to love me despite my sexuality, and who never ceased to lift me up when I'd fallen. Friends and family members failed to look at me as my priest did. Family and friends' love withered and faded. However, a priest with a large congregation, and many outside responsibilities, decided to never give up on me. Because of him, my faith in God-damaged by hateful comments by other Christians- grew immeasurably.
As I write this, tears are streaming down my face, and I can't stop them. They aren't tears for me, but tears for all of those in the LGBT community who never had the opportunity to be loved as I was. I weep for those that once held Christ deep within themselves, only to have Him replaced with cynicism and hate because of condemnation by others.
How could this be what Christ wanted?
I can't begin to count the number of friends I've seen kicked out of their homes and families, and I can't count on both hands the number of friends I've lost to suicide. Did they call out to Him before they took the pills or shot the gun? Did they scream to God for clarity and peace? Did they huddle homeless in the streets, and pray for guidance? Or did they let cynicism and hate—the greatest weapons of Satan—kill their mind, body and soul?
Then there are the funerals. The funerals for my brothers and sisters lost to the pain of being LGBT in this country. The thing about a funeral, as I'm sure you know, is that you don't see your friend. He/she is dead, and closed in a casket in front of the altar. What we see at the funerals are the family and friends of the deceased. We see the mother, torn by the inevitable questions and guilt. We see the father struggle to comprehend the loss. We see the siblings caught in between their own anger/guilt, and the guilt of the parents. We feel pain so immense that it strangles us.
Why does any of this have to happen? Why must a child be homeless in the streets? Why must a mother weep in loss? Why should families be separated all because of someone's sexuality? Why must moral superiority trump an individual's humanity?
I'm afraid that the question of why is one that we don't ask enough. It is the question of humanity, and if we fail to ask the question, we fail to understand the individual.
So why am I writing you today? Cardinal Dolan, it is my sincere hope and greatest wish that you will reconsider visiting the Ali Forney Center. I can't ask you to reconsider your stance without seeing those of us that suffer the most.
You were blessed with four siblings, and two parents. What if, in your youth, your parents had hated you for something you couldn't change, and kicked you out? What if one day you were told how loved you were, only to be told you are no longer welcome?
It is the most painful and damaging feeling in the world, Your Eminence. It breaks your heart and soul simultaneously. I don't believe that you hate LGBT people. I believe that you might even have friends, maybe even family, that are members of my community. Wouldn't you want them to feel love? Would you ever wish them to walk alone? Maybe I'm naive , or maybe it's just my faith in Jesus Christ. Either way, I refuse to believe that you have simply cast us aside as "evil," or "barbarians" like so many have.
You would not have to go to the Center as a Cardinal. This shouldn't be a PR stunt. You don't have to go to the Center as anything but a man. After all, Christ didn't walk amongst the least of His children with condemnation, or even with a sense of superiority. Instead, He walked amongst the people that society condemned, asking and posing the question of why. By asking why, He lifted up the downtrodden, and brought love and understanding.
I'm not writing this believing you will walk into the Center, and immediately change all Church policy. Honestly, I'm not. Instead, I am praying that you will walk into the Center and listen. We spend so much time internalizing the hateful comments of others, that when someone is there to listen it is empowering. It sounds so simple, but even just a hug and a nice word can save someone in my community's life.
Your Eminence, when someone condemns my love of Christ because of my sexuality, I say that I will not spend my life hating Christ because of six verses in the Bible. If on the day of my death, the Lord says that my sexuality negates any good I've done, then so be it. I look forward to the day I am judged based on the totality of my life. If Christ sends me to hell, no angel will have to throw me into the Lake of Fire. I'll swan dive in. I'd rather walk in the light of the Lord, then drown in the shadows of hate.
All I want for my community is for each individual to at least have the opportunity to feel the same. All I want for the families of the members of my community is to never see them struggle through loss because of ignorance. That opportunity comes through love, and understanding. Please, Cardinal Dolan, reconsider!
Thank you for your time, and may God's blessing be upon you,
Jennifer L. Morgan





