Browse Our Articles & Podcasts

Seeing My Father Pray the Rosary Saved Me From Homosexuality

As a child, I revered my father and I didn’t understand him. I instinctively knew that my survival depended upon him. My father was a hard worker. He was industrious. He could create something out of nothing: a garden, a tree house, an addition to our home. He was a dispenser of my material happiness; a joyous day was when he occasionally brought home a cake or donuts. Then, I knew my father was pleased and I was happy. Sometimes, when I did something wrong, my father would get angry. At that point, I feared him as he was the bestower of punishment. But I loved my dad and I knew he loved me. But in the mind of a child, he was not human, he was a god. And a distant god.

My father was ambitious, bold, and loud. I wasn’t like him. My father was strong and stout. I wasn’t. My father was a man’s man. I considered myself less than a boy. I always shrunk next to him. My father could fix anything, always choosing the right tool and using it correctly; he could drive tractors; lift massive wooden beams with the power of his muscle; he was never bullied; he was no man’s fool. I felt safe but unsure when I was around him. As for myself, I couldn’t stay vertical on my bike; I was unable to throw a ball more than five feet; when I held a hammer or a screwdriver I inevitably hit my thumb or stripped the screw. Instead, I sat for hours with a pencil and drew little pictures of imaginary worlds filled with rabbits and rainbows. The boys at school mercilessly teased me while I stood by humiliated unable to say a word in my defense. I was ashamed. One day, I was so petrified that I soiled myself. Although my dad was nowhere near the schoolyard to witness my disgrace, I thought he was watching and he knew. In some strange way, I thought I failed both god and man.

The picture of Jesus presented at school, was of a slightly effeminate constantly smiling hippie. He preached some nebulous doctrine about love, but eventually fell to the political powers of intolerance and oppression. I could never figure out exactly why He was killed, because no one should have even cared about Him. The most indelible picture of Christ implanted in my brain during those years was Jesus as the simpering flower-child from Godspell. The school wide viewing of that film in the darkened gymnasium was an experience that would change the course of my life. If my father was more god than man, this Jesus was more man than god. If my father was larger-than-life and somewhat overpowering, this Jesus was mundane and cloying. And as I grew older, I scorned both of these gods. In homosexuality, I thought I could find the perfect man – someone who was masculine and powerful, but unquestionably accepting and compassionate.

I never found my gay god. Because everyone else around me was looking for precisely the same thing. But the more I expected and the more I hoped, the increasingly desperate I became. My parents, especially my father, could not bear what I had turned into. Only I didn’t care. Publicly needing a man was my way of getting back at him, although he didn’t comprehend this. I was proclaiming that I needed him, but I contended that he was never there. One day, he made a cutting, albeit honest, comment about the appearance of me and my friends. Testing the waters of acceptance, I had deliberately brought home one weekend some of my odder-appearing gay compatriots. My father made it clear that they were not welcome in his house. I saw it as just another repudiation. So, I walked away.

As the years passed, I got older and I got sicker. My options were fewer, and now a younger generation of lonely boys looked to me as their potential savior – as their new god. For awhile, I played the part. Only to become imperious and vengeful; treating those who sought my approval in the same manner as I had once been abused and broken by older men. I hated myself, and I began to envy my long-vanished friends who died painfully of AIDS. Because, I thought, at least their suffering was now over.

One night, I lay dying and forgotten on a cold and hard hospital gurney. I prayed for death while my mother prayed nearby to Jesus. I cursed her as she attempted to intercede with heaven on my behalf. I didn’t want her God. Where had He been my whole life? Anyway, he was scrawny and pitiful. Yet, in my pathetic death throe attempt at finally being assertive and confident, I became afraid. I panicked. And I called out to God the Father and He sent His Son. Immediately, I felt His solid reassuring presence. In a way, it was the same feeling I had as a boy when my dad was around – I felt safe. Later, a certain uneasiness returned. Was this Jesus Christ the same long-haired social worker from the 1970s who was here to give me a hug, a gift card for a free meal, and then send me back to the streets? Only, I didn’t want to go back.

Having nowhere else to turn, I went home. The prodigal son was alive, and my parents opened the door. But I was too confused, exhausted, and ill to celebrate. For awhile, I couldn’t speak or sleep. I was shocked back to near infancy. I was grasping for help; I was grasping for truth; I was grasping for life. I was reaching out for my father and I was reaching out towards God.

At first, my father didn’t know what to make of the situation. He stayed away and I stayed in my room. I prayed to God, not knowing I was praying. Because I was in so much physical pain, I couldn’t concentrate on any of the simple prayers that I inaccurately remembered from childhood. Instead, I just pleaded for help. I begged. And for the next few days, I lived as a hermit. But I was still uncertain.

Slowly, I ventured out of my monastic cell and went in search of answers. I made my way almost directly to my parent’s bookshelf. Without even thinking, I took two books back to my room: The Bible and The Catechism of the Catholic Church; I had read neither.

Over the next few days, I selectively studied again and again certain passages. Primarily the forgiveness of the public sinner by Christ and the paragraphs in the Catechism dealing with homosexuality. There was compassion and then there was strength all residing in Truth. Christ was not the ineffectual wimp I imagined since grammar school. He stood up to the bullies, and then He consoled the wounded. But He didn’t leave them cowering in the dust; He gave us His Word to live by, and the laws which should guide our every thought. He offered a way out.

Carrying my two books, that I now placed all my faith in, I left my room to put them back on the bookshelf. On my way there, I saw my father praying. I had never seen him pray before. During my self-imposed imprisonment within homosexuality, my parents had gone through their own captivity in a world of diversions and excess. But they found the extravagance of expensive wine and endless nightly gourmet tours of the globe to be an essentially empty meal. Now, they had abandoned the luxuries which my father’s determination had afforded them. My father didn’t seem less driven, but his ambitions had changed. Everything used to be directed in his life towards a material goal, now his energies were focused on the purely immaterial.

I stood and watched semi-concealed halfway up the stairway as a few small beads on a cord passed through my father’s fingers. As a child, I never knew how to pray the Rosary. Over the past few years, my only recollection of a Rosary was the one a young singer named Madonna constantly wore around her neck. In my mind, it had become almost a profane object, transformed from the sacred as the crucifix was always strategically situated inside her ample cleavage. But in the rough calloused hands of my father, the Rosary had been restored to its rightful meaning and significance. Like my childhood conception of Jesus Christ, there was more to my father than I previously believed.

All the time I thought my father detested me, he actually prayed and wept for me. And in that act, often performed alone and silently, there was compassion. While I danced in some gay disco, my father prayed. While I had sex with nameless men, my father prayed. While I tossed my life away, my father prayed. Every day He prayed the Rosary and I didn’t know it. In those long days of desolation, like on my deathbed, I wouldn’t have cared or thought that he was incredibly stupid. It must have appeared that his prayers weren’t working. I didn’t return home. But he persisted. And that took strength and determination, the same qualities that seemed offensive when I was a boy, were transformed into a means of my salvation through Christ Jesus.

Dissatisfaction with the world sometimes leads to regret. Next, unless we are to remain continually bitter and sullen, a radical revision of how we conceive ourselves and everything around us is required in order to move forward and survive. And, that takes humility. In my present ruined physical state, my humiliation was complete. In my futile quest to the find a masculine man who would save me, I was sent back to boyhood; the damage to my body was horrendous, the scared little boy was still messing himself. Except, now I knew that no mere human could make me clean, forgive me, or wipe away the pain, not even my father. For another man, who was somehow more than just a man, had already saved me. And in that deliverance, my father played a part.

Originally published at Reprinted with permission. 

43 thoughts on “Seeing My Father Pray the Rosary Saved Me From Homosexuality”

  1. You know, in this horrible age, so drenched in and obsessed with sex that the gender fanatics even equate one’s very being with this or that mode of sexual behaviour, purity is I believe absolutely inpossible unless one asks for it up front and openly in prayer. The grace for it *will* be given but otherwise a young person now has no chance.

    Is this not doubly so for the person afflicted with temptations towards unnatural relations, especially as the 99% who do not have this temptation (they have others!) are almost forced to glorify the behaviour of him or her who does?

    Thus, those who do live chaste and continent lives despite suffering from this affliction, asking for the grace of purity and cooperating with it, living the Way of Grace daily, are in my opinion among the great heroes of the Church in the present evil time.

    All of which means that the judgement to be faced one day by the unholy and impure army of lay and clerical homo-heretic will be the more severe, because they refuse ipso facto to accept that with the grace offered by Our Lord Jesus Christ, all things are possible for us.

    Purity. Without it, we will not see Heaven. Ask the Blessed Mother for it. She will obtain this grace for those who ask for it from her Son.

  2. I too was that Joseph Sciambra, but in London, not in San Francisco. I didn’t have that towering father praying the Rosary to look up to. I had immoral parents who allowed immorality to enter our home and the devil to take route. Through the near obsession with the sin of impurity I entered the sin of homosexuality. I left the Church but not Christ. I sought that ideal man through that gay pride, and indulged in sexual liaison after sexual liaison.
    Through one of my boyfriends I made contact again with the Church and came back to the Mass, nous ordo, and attended an East London parish church, where the priest was gay, and wished to have sexual liaisons with me. Thank the good Lord I didn’t. But I didn’t find true catholic teaching or guidance, rather an affirmation in my sexual state and endless sacrilegious communions. I indulged in the world of drugs and clubs, but frequently would pray an Our Father, Hail Mary and Glory Be after I had taken drugs and was about to “come up”. I made a promise that I would come back to God because I knew that it was wrong.
    As far as I know I had no-one praying for me and I had no epiphany, except a growing realisation that my life was heading nowhere, that this continual searching for a meaning in homosexual relationships was fruitless and empty. So I began to do some research; I eschewed further searching after the unobtainable and read about our faith. Eventually I found the TLM and true Catholic blogs and educational sites, and then came to a realisation that I had to confess my sins properly. I spent a week and went through the ten commandments writing down all the occasions that I had fallen, going back to my childhood, and wrote them in a book. Then I took myself off to confession to my local Catholic Church.
    It felt right. It was the beginning. Once again, there was no great sign from heaven, but just one step in my journey to try and make myself whole again. It was hard. It is hard. And I kept falling down. I know the perniciousness of the sins of homosexuality because the devil has more than enough of an arsenal in my memory to attack me with. I knew that I had to keep returning to the confessional because the sin of impurity was the easiest means to attack me, especially when I had been a prisoner in this vice for 30 plus years. I cried in the confessional to my Fathers to be rid of this sin. I prayed the Rosary, decades and decades, and still I fell (not frequently) but when I did, I felt worthless, dirty, and how could I possibly become a child of Christ. The worst times were the moments that I was assailed not to confess these sins of the flesh because I felt so worthless, so ashamed. God I hated the devil. I couldn’t understand how the evil one could get such a hold of my mind and memory and attack me so easily. I still don’t. It feels so unfair.

    Thank the Lord I didn’t allow my feelings to govern my actions, I knew that it was through my reason and my mind that I would make my headway. Time after time I would avail myself of holy confession, knowing that no matter how much I fell Jesus was there to make me whole again. Little by little, my prayer life has improved, little by little grace has entered my soul and made me humble, little by little those persistent mortal sins are kept at bay. And I have done nothing. It is all to do with my Lord and my Saviour, my Blessed Queen and Mother, Saint Michael and my guardian angel. I continue on knowing that I am damaged goods, that there is still something of the homosexual in me which will be my cross to my dying day. I sometimes think of the ten ten year old who read Luke 18:8 and became very afraid. I couldn’t understand that there wouldn’t be faith on earth. Then I even wanted to be a priest; but in my chaotic and immoral family life it wasn’t to be. Now that cannot be, and anyway I am too old to undertake that. I must accept the path God has willed for me, and strain to attain greater holiness and holy fear. Vivat Christus Rex!

    • God bless you. I read your story and i will pray for you. Please pray for me, for we all are “damaged goods” in one way or another. God bless.

    • Thank you for sharing your story. You [and Joseph Sciambra] have convinced me that I really should contribute financially to support OP5. I do benefit spiritually from many of the articles published here, and so it is only right that I should donate a shekel or two to the pot. Thank you again. I will say a Memorare for you as soon as I finish typing here. May God bless you and always keep you safe from the evil one.

    • Blessed be God forever. I was an atheist and the Lord delivered me from that terrible state just as He has and is delivering you from the terrible state that has gripped you for so long. Never Give UP! The Lord Jesus desires your total deliverance and the salvation of your soul and He has suffered every ignominy for your sake. Allow Him to use your past for the Glory of His Holy Name and the liberation of those how have suffered the same as you have suffered. You are not a homosexual, you are someone who has suffered that sin and the evil one who enticed you, but you are not that: You are a Son of God in the Only Begotten One of God and You are His Witness. May the Lord ever remind you of His Love for you and May you behold Him face to face and Live forever Amen.

      • Think how Peter felt when he denied his savior 3 times. How much more should we forgive ourselves knowing how happy our Lord has us back. Nothing we do can take his love away from us! Pure love. God bless you.

      • Dear Father,

        I’d like to contact you personally in re to an ongoing situation with an atheist. I will ask Steve to give you my email. I really need prayers and good advice on how to deal with this person.

        In the Risen Christ,


    • Paul, your courage and your humility in telling of your battles will encourage many people. By way of saying “thank you”, I will include you in my daily prayers.

    • Paul, thank you for the courage to come publicly with this confession. It needed so much courage and so much humility to speak about the life you led. Perhaps you may include also your parents in your prayers, as they seem not having a chance to benefit from healing as you have. Perhaps they are waiting for this merciful forgiveness…God bless you Paul

      • Pavel thank you and all the others for your kind words and prayers. Yes I pray for my family and my parents every day. My Mother went to her eternal reward. I managed to get a priest to her for confession before she died. I paid to have a Gregorian set of Masses for her soul when she passed away. I have enrolled all my family into FOSS, Friends of the Suffering Souls – – a lay lead apostolate praying for the Holy Souls, which I cannot recommend highly enough to you good people. God bless to all you kind people. Paul

        • I thank you Paul for the kind words too. After all, there is a big mystery in the link between children and parents. The saying is that one does not chose the parents one is born to, but perhaps this is taking only 1/2 of the story. You, by showing compassionate forgiveness to your parents, have been an instrument of God’s all-forgiving Love and I believe you are reaping some benefits in this life already, not to speak about the “credit” you have earned for yourself in the world behind. God bless you Paul

    • Dear Ones, I can say with absolute certainty that Paul was mistaken when he thought no one was praying for him. Many of us entrust the merits of our daily Rosaries to our Blessed Mother, to beg her intercession before her Divine Son on behalf of those souls who are most in need of His grace and mercy.

      I’m confident that, in the Virgin’s hands, our most desperate pleadings become as sweet offerings of surrender and faith. And Jesus refuses nothing asked by His Holy Mother.

      No one is alone in his suffering. I know, because I am the beneficiary of many prayers offered when all I could muster was, “Out of the depths I cry to you, O Lord! Lord, hear my voice!” The Church bears us up!

  3. “If the thought of your past life and sins oppresses you and you have no courage to look into the future beyond the grave, give yourself to the Immaculata wholeheartedly, without restriction. Entrust her with the work of your whole salvation, your whole life, death, and eternity. You will perceive what peace and happiness is (sic), a foretaste of Heaven, and you will sigh for Heaven.” (St. Maximilian Kolbe, Aim Higher, pp. 21-2) While we are still alive, no matter what has gone before, it is never too late to do what Father Maximilian, on Our Lord’s behalf, has spelled out for us. If on the other hand we refuse in any way to make and to live out our Total Consecration–intellectually, emotionally, morally, spiritually–then we might as well admit that, in our own case, it is “too late” already.

  4. Dissatisfaction with the world is one of the Keys to Salvation. Praise God for your father and for your mother who never gave up hope for the Salvation of their son. Do not let your past sins claim you as theirs, you are not! You are one of Christ’s beloved little ones and your parents know this. Their quiet prayers for your soul have been heard and your deliverance from the evil of Sodom is the answer to their prayers and to yours. May the Lord continue to strengthen you in the Truth so that you may continue to shine His light on the darkness of homosexuality. May many be delivered from that vice by your prayerful and honest witness. Amen. Alleluia. Forever, Amen.

  5. Having walked those same streets but in New York, Joseph’s essays always leave me somewhat dumbstruck, awed and appreciative. Once again one is made aware that not only proximity, but deep immersion in a subculture so grievously wounded, while frighteningly perilous, is still only a
    step from salvation. A wonderful reminder that Jesus never took scandal at sin, but confronted it with fortitude, clear-sighted, and addressed it as it is. Before His Face humiliation is lifted to the virtue of humility – freedom. No longer slaves but free men now.
    Grace is everywhere.
    God reward you, Joseph.

    • May the Lord continue to pour forth His Holy Blessing upon you and may you be His Holy instrument in the Salvation of many souls. Amen.

  6. Joseph…..I so admire your honesty. It is in this that others will follow behind you one by one back into the life of grace. Mary, Mother of Purity protect your children who are fraught with interior anxiety.

  7. Thank you this story give me hope and encouragement for my loved one who is lost.
    God bless all of you courageous men. God help us all!

  8. Very moving and uplifting. Must have costed the poor Joseph a lot of humility and courage to come up with this public confession. God bless you, Joseph!

  9. God willing I will never have a wayward child but this inspires me to be much more dedicated in my prayer life if only to stand in the breach between my daughter and the forces of hell!

  10. The most consoling book I’ve ever read (and reread) is “Life of the Beloved: Spiritual Living in a Secular World,” by Henri Nouwen.

    In the first 25 pages or so, Father Nouwen explains that God chooses each human being as His “first,” to be His own, without diminishing the status or stature of any other; that God loved us even before our parents could imagine our existence; and that, as the Psalmist sings, “His love endures forever.” Each of us — individually and especially! — is “taken” [chosen] and “blessed” by God from all eternity.

    As I read those pages for the first time, I cried as if a child rescued from an orphanage.

    Father Nouwen’s remaining themes are that human beings, in turn, need to recognize and choose to love each other at those tender places where we are most “broken” by sin, and “give” ourselves as offerings back to God and in charity to each other. This is a “spiritual life.” It reminds of the saying that we Catholics are a “Eucharistic people.”

    Meditation on being “taken … blessed … broken … given” never fails to bring me peace. I pray someone reading this will find that same consolation.

    • Yours reminds me of Mother Angelica one evening explaining the nature of God’s omnipotence and His love for each of us. Paraphrasing, with as much accuracy as I can muster after all this time, she said that all reality is ever before His eyes – all that ever was, is or will be – simultaneously. That is our best way of understanding “omnipotence.” And our limited reason can understand God’s love, Who Is Love Itself, loves without any diminishment – He Loves us as if no one else ever existed, exists, or ever will exist except the object of His love in the moment that is the Eternal Now.

    • Thank you for suggesting this book.

      I have never heard of Henri Nouwen, yet, found the title most interesting, as I am part of a lay community who ministers to women post abortion, Our apostolate is 100 percent faithful to the Magisterium, and based on St. John Eudes and St. Mary Euphrasia.

      I sense this book may be of help to those we serve in our Catholic apostolate.

      Is the book faithful to the teachings of the Church?

      • Yes, Fr. Nouwen’s theology is consistent with Magisterial teaching. I’m sure your colleagues and those you care for would benefit highly from Nouwen’s book.

        I can also recommend his study of the parable of the prodigal son for you. It is a meditation on how all of us can put ourselves, at times, in the shoes of the prodigal son, his father, and his hard-working brother. Very moving.

        • I would stay away from Fr. Nouwen at all costs. Anyone who is still dealing with an intrinsic disorder as destructive as same sex attraction has no business leading or guiding people in the faith. It’s one thing if you have been completely healed of SSA via confession, prayer, intense counseling or even exorcism. But from all accounts, Fr. Nouwen was not. Here is a quote from a First Things article on priestly sodomy/homosexuality:

          :Perhaps no book on the priestly life and pastoral care has done more damage than the late Henri Nouwen’s The Wounded Healer.
          In this view, priests become good pastors to the degree that they
          expose their own wounds to therapy, inviting others to similar
          disclosure. The teaching of the Church and centuries of spiritual and
          moral wisdom are judged by whether they inhibit or enhance the
          therapeutic norm”

          We don’t need wounded, psychologically damaged and needy men for guidance in how to heal and restore ourselves. Joseph Sciambra and others have rightfully shown us the the holy and healed men that can do that: Our Lord, the holy saints, Fathers, Doctors of the Church and the wonderful Saint Joseph. We must look to them, not some emo, modernist, psychologically immature and seemingly navel gazing “spiritualists” who promotes “mysticism”. Look to the truth, to reality, to the real men of time, history and eternity…look for God’s presence, grace, the sacraments, the Blessed Mother etc. Read the greats like St. Francis DeSales, Teresa of Avila, Catherine of Siena, St. Augustine, St. Thomas Aquinas etc. Have our Lord come into your heart on a daily basis and surrender to Him. Fill your mind with Godly, safe, traditional and saintly examples. The Church provides many in her long history:+)

          God bless~

          • I’m not familiar with Fr. Nouwen’s history of same sex attraction. He’s been dead for some time now.

          • Supposedly his biographer said he had a “homosexual orientation.” I guess I would just stay away from following and recommending books/ideas created and promoted by people who have a unhealed disordered sexual attraction. I would never read a book by priest struggling with pedophilia, or a priest who was only attracted to his mother. I’m not of the “wounded healer” idea either…what good is that? I prefer a “healed healer” who can lead me out of my muck, immaturity, brokenness, etc. rather than coming into my mess and sharing his own. Please also look into Fr. Nouwen’s support of Buddhism, too. We need to be so careful when it comes to the tending of our souls in these perilous times. I want heaven for Fr. Nouwen, for all people, including you…but we need to tread carefully in who we allow to form our intellects, help us heal, and guide us in that narrow path:+) God bless~

          • I do appreciate the information. Yes, we have to exercise discernment.

            I read and gained much insight from several of Fr. Nouwen’s books that speak to many aspects of the human struggle. I never saw a conflict with Catholic teaching or anything that explicitly referenced sexual behaviors and morals.

            Fr. Nouwen’s biographer notes that the priest did not openly identify as a homosexual, and he doesn’t believe that Fr. Nouwen violated his vow of celibacy. The author nevertheless acknowledged that his journals allude to his private struggle. Fr. Nouwen died in 1996 at age 64.

            This new information about Fr. Nouwen does not diminish that which I appreciate in his writings. Others may believe differently.

    • Funny you mention Nouwen.

      He is said to have struggled w/ same-sex attraction himself.

      My mother was a fan of Nouwen. And she, an anti-Catholic wife of a Methodist minister!

      My father’s life was radically altered when he was a boy. He struggled with obsessive lying. One night he walked by his father’s bedroom and heard his father {my Grandpop} praying: “Dear God, don’t send my son to hell for lying. Send me instead!”

      My dad learned something about love that day, in spite of the murky theology!

      I wish I could have told them all about the Catholic faith. All were deceased before I was received into the Church. What they knew was either wrong or conditioned by sinful examples of the faith. I pray for their salvation daily.

      • I am not aware of Fr. Henri Nouwen’s struggles, but his spiritual battle bore good fruit for the rest of us. His compassion for the suffering of others is a singular mark of his work. God rest his soul!

        How interesting, your mother’s appreciation of Nouwen. I’m not surprised though! He wrote “Life of the Beloved” for an young atheist friend who had asked him about God. I think his writing has a universal appeal because he wrote plainly, beautifully, and with great compassion.

        Your Grandpop was wonderfully self-sacrificing. What a great inheritance that your father witnessed and passed it on to you!

  11. Joseph’s father was the living embodiment of putting into practice these words of Pope Leo XIII: ‘We most EARNESTLY exhort ALL the Faithful to PERSEVERE in the DAILY recitation of the Rosary’. And therein may lie the not so secret secret of a happy eternity both for those who say the rosary and those for whom the rosaries are said.

  12. That the church has a part in this horror, by “acceptance and celebration” of the homosexual lifestyle, breaks my heart. We have a hollow church, a stuffed church here in america, filled with stuffed bishops.

    • It has happened before. Read St Peter Damian’s “Book of Gomorrah”, circa 1065 AD.

      What goes around, comes around.

  13. At the core of this issue is the sacred status of fatherhood itself that has been so demolished in our culture.

    Status as provider stolen by the welfare state. Status as leader trashed by feminism. Status as lover smashed by the culture of adultery and pornography. Status as role model erased by homosexualism. With many men not even entering the fight against these threats!

    The “World” hates every role God ordained. Womanhood and manhood, motherhood and fatherhood, all. No state of life is left unsullied.

    Doubt this? Be a good father and just watch how you are criticised. Be a good mother and watch how you are belittled.

    From TV shows and their smuttly disrespect to school districts and their usurpation of parental authority, it permeates our culture.

    Western culture, especially embodied in our governmnetal structures, pretty much despises a good man and hates a strong man. Men, especially fathers, are a terrible threat to governments who seek to claim ALL from their citizens.

    And just like Adam who kicked back and did nothing when he was confronted by sin in his own family, modern men seem to be bothered little with the depths to which manhood has fallen.

    Not all of them, but many.

    Praise God for the men who try.

  14. From the Catechism of the Council of Trent:

    “And so it really is: when we imagine that God has utterly abandoned us, that we are utterly bereft of His protection, then it is that in a special manner He, of His infinite goodness, seeks after and takes care of us; for in His anger, He stays the Sword of His justice, and ceases not to pour out the unexhausted treasures of His mercy.”

  15. This has “fake news” all over it. So this supposed person was dying of AIDS in the hospital, but now is alive?

    This is just another propaganda piece attempting to paint all gay men as sexual perverts who lead empty, miserable lives. I’m gay, married, and we have kids. With the same man for 24 years. And happily left the oppression of the Catholic church decades ago. There are plenty of other denominations that accept gay people for who they are.


Leave a Comment

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

Popular on OnePeterFive

Share to...