Trans & Religion...

by michael moloney

Ioften hear my fellow Catholic brothers and sisters use appalling terms like “mutilating their bodies,” “cutting off their breasts,” “ripping out healthy organs,” or “a woman pretending to be a man” when referring to some of the beautiful individuals who have faced or are facing the challenge of gender dysphoria.

My name is Michael Moloney, and I run a special ministry for LGBT people in the Catholic Church in London, www.medjugorjelgbtministry.com

Five years ago, while living in Croatia, I met a young man named Toni who was struggling enormously with his mental health. After praying with him, he experienced a remarkable healing and a renewed desire to follow Jesus. However, there was one issue—he was, and still is, transgender.

I remember when he told me, bracing for my reaction, anticipating rejection—something I, too, have faced all over the world for being gay. But instead of shock, I gave him a loving hug. I knew at that moment that I needed to help him even more.

A friend and I invited Toni to stay in our apartment, and we began bringing him to church. This turned out to be an education of a lifetime. While many of our Catholic friends were delighted that we were evangelising and sharing Jesus with LGBT people, their joy turned to horror when they learned that a trans person was living with us.

Most of our church friends refused to meet “her.” When we suggested bringing Toni to a prayer meeting, they declined, fearing that the “demons of transgenderism” might jump onto them. It was heartbreaking. One day, in desperate pain, Toni self-harmed. Later that evening, when we sought support, all the priest could say was that he shouldn’t have received Holy Communion before confessing his “awful sin.”

My friend Seamus and I were appalled by the lack of love, compassion, and sensitivity. Instead of encouragement, nearly all our Catholic friends— including priests and even a psychiatrist—told us to give up and “leave Toni to the professionals.” But Toni had already spent six months the previous year in a psychiatric hospital with so-called professionals, it was God’s love that he needed and a community and as someone who had barely survived similar “professional help,” I refused to abandon him.

Like the Holy Family fleeing to Egypt, we had to pack up and leave Croatia overnight. We went to Medjugorje, a very well-known catholic place of pilgrimage in Bosnia & Herzegovina, where Our Lady has been appearing for over 40 years. No sooner had we arrived than the police were called. We suspect we were reported by a closeted gay priest known to us for “giving Medjugorje a bad reputation” and for being “dangerous sodomites who were following demons.”

“Are you the girl who wants to be a boy?” an old woman asked Toni, with no tact or respect. Her words sent him into hours of self-hatred, fear, and depression. As usual, Seamus and I were left to pick up the pieces and when we reached out to the Church for help, explaining what was happening, we were simply ignored. It seemed that hatred toward LGBT people was not considered a sin and that our mission, our lives, and our well-being mattered only to God—not to the Church authorities.

Three months later, we moved to London. By God’s grace, we found a very special catholic priest who understood the challenges faced by LGBT people. He took Toni under his wing with a zero-tolerance policy toward transphobia. For the first time in his life, Toni began to flourish.

But the challenges didn’t end there. When some churchgoers discovered that Toni was transgender and serving on the altar, they were scandalised. Again, the lack of love, compassion, and sensitivity was shocking. When we read the Bible, one of Jesus’ strongest messages is to avoid judgment, yet these Catholics seemed to make a career out of it.

Many Catholics believe that gender dysphoria has a “quick fix”—counseling, inner healing, perhaps a few exorcisms, and all will be well. It’s the same misguided mentality behind “gay conversion therapy,” something I myself survived.

These well-meaning but misguided individuals are like the Pharisees of the New Testament—judging, condemning, and ultimately driving the most vulnerable people in the LGBT community further away from the unconditional love and mercy of God. As for Toni, while he was accepted by many, others left our church or stayed only to pray and fast that he would “never have the operation.”

One of the promises I made to Toni when we met was that I would never stop him from transitioning if that was what he needed. After knowing him for nearly three years, it was clear that transitioning was essential for his well-being.

And so, one year ago, Toni had the operation. Unlike a regular medical procedure, where the church community would gather in support, Toni’s surgery had to be done in secret. I called it “Operation Top Secret,” as we had to sneak him into the hospital without anyone knowing and bring him home two days later.

Six months later, one woman remarked, “There is a remarkable improvement in Toni. I don’t think he will ever have that awful operation.” I stayed silent, though inwardly I wanted to tell her that his remarkable improvement was precisely because of the operation he had already undergone.

Another woman asked, “Has Toni had surgery? What will Jesus say when he dies and appears before Him?”

I replied, “Well done, my beautiful child, for loving Me, for not giving up, for not succumbing to despair. For every prayer and suffering you endured, here is your new resurrected body—three times more glorious to make up for the hell you endured on earth.” That silenced her.

As I conclude this article, what do I want you to remember?

Firstly, God is love. He loves all transgender people and understands the complexities involved far better than we ever could.

Secondly, our churches are still broken and fearful of these issues. Many within them continue to do tremendous harm to the gay and trans community. That is why our voices must be heard. Rather than running away from the Church, we must claim our places as equal and beloved children of God.

Finally, to any priests or pastors who may read this: The time for silence is over. The Church stands at a crossroads—one path leads to love, healing, and justice, the other to deeper division and pain. Will you be a shepherd who gathers God’s flock, or one who scatters it? The world is watching. More importantly, so is God. Choose wisely.