For more than two decades, as a Jesuit priest, Reverend James Martin has given thousands of blessings: to rosaries, babies, homes, boats, and meals, statues of saints, the sick, brides, and grooms. However, he had never been allowed to bless a same-sex couple, not until Monday, when Pope Francis said he would allow such blessings, an announcement that resonated throughout the Church.
On Tuesday morning, Damian Steidl Jack, 44, and his husband, Jason Steidl Jack, 38, stood in front of Martin in a visiting room on the West Side of Manhattan. The couple, who arrived a little late due to subway delays, was casually dressed. Damian, a floral designer, praised Martin for the scent of the Christmas tree.
In accordance with the Vatican’s warning that such a blessing should not be performed with “any clothing, gesture, or words typical of a wedding,” Martin did not wear a robe and did not read any text. There is no same-sex blessing in the thick book of blessings published by the United States Conference of Catholic Bishops. Instead, he selected one of his favorite passages from the Old Testament.
“May the Lord bless you and protect you,” Martin began, touching the shoulders of the two men, who slightly bowed their heads and held hands. “May the Lord make his face shine upon you and be gracious to you. May the Lord lift up his countenance upon you and give you peace.”
“May Almighty God bless you,” he said, making the sign of the cross, “in the name of the Father, the Son, and the Holy Spirit. Amen.” And then, with evident emotion on their faces, the three men embraced.
Damian Steidl Jack, left, and his husband, Jason Steidl Jack, on their wedding day at Judson Memorial Church in the West Village in 2022.
Martin is likely the highest-profile advocate for LGBTQ Catholics in the United States. He has frequently met with Pope Francis to try to make the Catholic Church more inclusive, and in the fall, he participated in a worldwide meeting on the future of the Church by invitation of the Pope.
On Tuesday morning, Martin was far from the halls of power. He was at home, making history. He had waited years for the privilege of openly saying that prayer, however simple it may be.
“It was very nice,” Martin commented on Tuesday, “to be able to do it publicly.”
The pope’s decision was hailed as a historic victory by advocates for gay Catholics, who describe it as a significant gesture of openness and pastoral care, and a reminder that an institution whose age is measured in millennia can change.
The decision does not invalidate the Church’s doctrine that marriage is between a man and a woman. It does not allow priests to celebrate same-sex marriages. It makes a clear effort to differentiate between the sacrament of marriage—which must take place in a church—and a blessing, which is a more informal, even spontaneous, gesture. Furthermore, it stipulates that a priest’s blessing of a same-sex couple should not be performed in connection with a civil wedding ceremony.
The news of the pope’s decision spread quickly among gay Catholics, many of whom began making preparations for their own blessings after the busy holiday season.
On the morning of the pope’s announcement, Michael McCabe’s husband, Eric Sherman, rushed into the office of their apartment in Forest Hills, Queens, eager to share the news: their 46-year relationship could finally be blessed.
“You wait so long for the Church to change its mind, that you somewhat lose hope,” said McCabe, 73, who attends Mass every Sunday at the Church of St. Francis Xavier in Chelsea, Manhattan.
The couple married in 2010 in Connecticut, before same-sex marriages were legalized in their home state of New York. For a long time, they resigned themselves to the Church’s stance, although they had not fully made peace with it, McCabe said.
“I know that both myself and my relationship with my husband are good things,” McCabe said, who taught first-grade catechism at the church.
Although the pope’s decision falls short of recognizing McCabe’s marriage, he said he could not help but find joy in the news. After rejoicing with his husband on Monday, he sent an email to his priest. They plan to receive a blessing early in the new year.
It remains unclear how different priests across the country will respond to the pope’s invitation to bless same-sex couples. The announcement gives priests freedom and encourages them to offer blessings, but does not obligate them to do so. Same-sex couples living in more liberal dioceses are more likely to find a willing priest than those in conservative ones. In Chicago, Cardinal Blase Cupich, a close ally of Pope Francis, issued a statement saying that in his archdiocese, “we welcome this statement, which will help many more in our community feel the closeness and compassion of God.” Many other bishops have remained silent until now. Conservative critics have said the pope’s move essentially encourages priests to bless sin.
“I’m sure many older bishops are open to this, and many young priests will have to be convinced,” said Massimo Faggioli, a professor of Theology at Villanova University, noting that young Catholic priests in the United States are overwhelmingly conservative.
In New York City, where a handful of progressive Catholic churches have been at the forefront of welcoming LGBTQ parishioners but have refrained from marrying and sanctifying their unions, the Vatican news was as exciting for some priests as it was for their congregation.
“I say it’s about time,” said Reverend Joseph Juracek, the pastor of St. Francis of Assisi Church in Midtown, who believes the Church is finally aligning with the teachings of Jesus: “This is what it’s all about: that God is for everyone.”
While many Catholics celebrated the pope’s decision, others felt it was a belated and insufficient measure. Some LGBTQ individuals who left the Church years ago, feeling unwelcome, said it was a half-hearted move that would not compel them to return.
Thomas Molina-Duarte, a 37-year-old social worker in Detroit, was an active member of his local Catholic parish for many years. But when he and his husband got married, they had to do it in an Episcopal church, and in the end, they joined a “home church,” where they gather with a small group to engage in close readings of biblical texts.
“I’m glad about the news, but it won’t make me return to the Church,” Molina-Duarte said of the pope’s decision. “We’ve found a community of other people where we feel we can fully be ourselves.”
In New York City, Damian and Jason Steidl Jack, who married last year, had previously discussed the possibility of a blessing with Martin, an old friend of Jason’s. When Martin texted them on Monday afternoon and asked if they wanted a blessing, they accepted the offer without hesitation.
“The grace of God is working in our lives, whether the Vatican makes an announcement or not,” said Jason, an assistant professor of Religious Studies at St. Joseph’s College in Brooklyn and an advocate for gay Catholics. “But we are eager to receive the support of our communities and our pastors who care for us.”
As they headed back to the subway from Martin’s Jesuit community residence, Jason and Damian said the blessing he had given them felt both simple and profound.
“It’s one blessing among many,” Jason said. They were part of history and were also going to meet Damian’s mother at Walmart for some Christmas shopping.
“As you said,” Jason told his husband, “it’s like we’re claiming our…