Yesterday, was the feast of Blessed Bernardo de Hoyos, who saw himself, in a mystical vision, as “the spouse of Christ”, united with him in what today we might call a gay marriage.

Kittredge Cherry has the story, in a useful post at Jesus in Love blog. This reminded me of my own, somewhat similar experience while on retreat, as seeing myself as a “Bridegroom of Christ”. I have already described this briefly, as one that changed my life. I now want to share more fully on the experience.

I was on a six-day silent, directed retreat in early Advent 2002, nine months before leaving South Africa for the UK. I had two pressing issue weighing on me as I entered the retreat: was I right (as I believed I was), in the decision to make such a momentous move? and was I right (again, as I believed I was) that there was no conflict between my Catholic faith and my life as a gay man, in a permanent and committed relationship? Going in, I had been over both of these issues thoroughly - but had a sense that it us always important to recognize at least the possibility that one is wrong. I needed either to see that I was mistaken, or to have final confirmation that indeed, I was right.

Early on the first day, I was reading the passage of the Lord speaking to Moses from the burning bush, I made a simple but heartfelt prayer, “Lord, speak to me”. During the rest of that first day, I sank steadily into a feeling of deep immersion in the Lord’s presence. That evening, during exposition of the Blessed Sacrament, the experience was so intense that I could not bear to have it end. At the end of the hour, I followed it from the room where we had been to the chapel, and knelt before it, rapt, for several hours more.

The next morning, my thoughts turned to the traditional image of the Church, and its adoption by religious sisters, as the “Bride of Christ”, and began to see myself, as a gay man, as a “Bridegroom of Christ”. I do not, like Bernardo of Hoyos, remember specific words (if there were any), but there were definite visual images, of walking down the aisle, and of standing together by the altar. (Remarkably, the same afternoon I was browsing through some spiritual journals in the lounge of the retreat centre, and came across an article with exactly the same idea: that men could profit from adopting the same image for themselves, as the groom of Christ - but having to imagine Christ as female).

From that moment on, the palpable feeling of being in the Lord’s presence became ever stronger. It was as if I was on honeymoon with my new husband. By day, every moment was spent deeply focussed on his presence, whether out of doors, in my room, or in the chapel, where I sat for hours at a time gazing at the tabernacle. Always, I was in constant conversation with him, going over the details of my life and my plans, or with his mother Mary. (Marian devotions had never previously been a particularly important part of my prayer life, but at this time it was as if I were deliberately cultivating a relationship with my new mother-in-law). By night, I was alone in bed with my lover, and husband - on honeymoon. (Of that, I spare you the details).

As the days went by, there were even not quite lovers’ quarrels, but disagreements on what we should do together. On the next to last day, I went out of my room, fully planning to turn left, to go as usual to the chapel. Instead, I distinctly heard (or felt) him say, no, go right. “But I want to meet you in the chapel”, I replied, and was told again, “No, go right”. Inevitably, I lost that one, and turned right, with no idea where it would take me. I soon came across a small graveyard, with tombstones marking the resting places of several priests, monks and religious sisters, leading me to some appropriate Advent reflections on death. But this was just a brief stop. I was soon led further, to an open field, surrounded by fourteen crosses, each about eight feet tall, and each carrying a little inscription: stations of the Cross.

As I read the first one, I was overcome with emotion. Unable to stand, I fell to my knees, crying. Slowly I calmed down, and thought I really ought to control myself a bit better. (This field was alongside a public road and in full view of any passers by). I decided that this sudden outburst was so publicly emotional precisely because it was unexpected. If I knew what to expect, I thought, I would manage more dignity. So, I stood up, collected myself, and moved on the next one. Again, the same thing happened, again and again - and again. Fourteen times I approached a cross determined to remain calm, fourteen times I dropped to my knees in public tears.

Finally, I was allowed to return to my room to recover and freshen up before lunch, very much shaken. To put this into context, I must stress that my religious practice is not typically of the demonstrative type. Prior to this retreat, I would have been embarrassed by any such display in another, and would have been cynical of any such description as I have presented to you, suspecting a fevered, over-active imagination. Should you be similarly sceptical, I can only say - that’s how it was.

In describing this experience as a counterpart to Bernardo’s, I am emphatically not comparing myself with him. I am no saint, and nor am I a mystic. This specific experience, however, was described by both my retreat director on the spot, and by my regular spiritual director later, as a genuinely and profoundly mystical experience. It was one I was privileged to receive, and have no expectation of receiving again - once, was quite enough. As I have noted before, it has certainly changed my life.

I had begun my retreat with two pressing questions: was I right in the belief that there is no conflict between my Catholic faith and my life as a gay man? and was I right in my decision to cross the world to the UK? I finished it with very clear answers, to both. The Jesuit theologian Karl Rahner has written that a direct experience of God is one that is at least possible for all of us. When we have had that experience, he says, we develop a knowledge that nothing the Church says can shake. I fully believe that I have had that direct experience, and I now know, from that experience, that the answers to both questions was a resounding “Yes”.

There is no conflict between my Catholic faith and my same-sex orientation, and I was right to make the move to the UK. The details and implications, and the interplay between them, I have been working out since - and have been the driving force that led to this blog as a nearly full- time occupation (or deranged obsession. Take your pick).

Related articles

• Blessed Bernardo de Hoyos: “The Spouse of Christ”
• My homoerotic retreat: 6 days that changed my life

• “You and I Are One”: Blessed Bernardo de Hoyos’ Mystical Same-Sex Marriage to Jesus (thewildreed.blogspot.com)
• A True Prophet in South Africa - Sermon for Royalty (kiwianglo.wordpress.com)
• Robert McClory on Danger of Turning Metaphor Into Law (bilgrimage.blogspot.com)
• Advent begins today: We seek your Word embodied (jesusinlove.blogspot.com)