In relation to James Martin, sj’s excellent article published on July 24th titled: "Should homosexual men (celibate) be ordained priests?", I have some questions from a psychological perspective, my field, which I want to share.
The Church has been asking for decades who can access the priesthood. Perhaps it is time to ask what psychological structure a person needs to live celibacy (the promise made by priests in their ordination) and chastity (the vow made by members of religious orders). And the decisive question, in my view, is the integration of sexuality within a mature personality.
From psychology, we know that sexuality does not constitute an isolated function of the human being. It is not an impulse that can be analyzed independently of the rest of the personality. It is part of identity, of how one relates to others, of emotional regulation, of affective history, even of the capacity to establish free relationships. Therefore, it is striking that ecclesiastical discernment has often paid extraordinary attention to the object of desire*—whether the attraction is directed toward men or women—and much less to the way that desire is psychologically organized. Not all heterosexuality is mature. Not all homosexuality is immature. Sexual orientation, by itself, says very little about a person’s capacity to live celibacy.
Clinical experience teaches that many forms of abuse, something that also has to do with the affective/sexual, do not originate mainly from sexual orientation, but from an insufficiently integrated personality. Spiritual abuse, emotional manipulation, dependency relationships, narcissistic dynamics, or the use of pastoral power often have their roots in unelaborated affective needs, in attachment wounds, in fragile identities seeking support through recognition or control. All this can exist even when there is no sexual behavior. Poor capacity to regulate loneliness. Confusion between intimacy and possession. Difficulties in recognizing one’s own limits. Bonds that lead to using the other to calm one’s own anguish, without truly perceiving their subjectivity. In other words, people whose affective world has not reached sufficient integration. And this reality runs through all sexual orientations.
A heterosexual priest can establish affectively dependent relationships with women in his parish community. He may seek admiration, emotional refuge, or affective compensations incompatible with the freedom required by his ministry. Similarly, a religious sister can develop exclusive bonds with another sister that end up nullifying the inner freedom inherent to consecrated life. And at the same time, there are priests and religious—heterosexual and homosexual—whose affective integration allows them to live a serene, free, and profoundly fruitful dedication.
The determining variable is not the direction of desire. It is the structure from which that desire is lived.
Christian tradition has never understood vocation as the simple absence of certain behaviors, but as the progressive configuration of the entire person with Christ. Celibacy, in this sense, does not consist solely in renouncing the exercise of sexuality; it consists in learning a new way to love. The celibate who has learned to transform desire into gift does not live it the same way as one who has only managed to repress it. The difference is enormous. Because celibacy does not make desire disappear. It does not extinguish the need for intimacy. It does not eliminate the yearning to be loved. It does not suspend attachment mechanisms. It does not automatically heal childhood wounds. All of that continues to exist. And precisely because of this, it needs to be worked through. He who does not integrate his affective world ends up seeking compensations. Sometimes through ambiguous relationships. Other times by taking refuge in pastoral work. At times, through the exercise of power. Or through forms of emotional dependency cloaked in spiritual language.
Centering discernment on sexual orientation risks simplifying an infinitely more complex reality. All of this inevitably leads to a question that the Church perhaps needs to face with growing depth: are we sufficiently discerning the affective maturity of those who will be called to live celibacy for their entire lives? And to answer it, I am convinced that asking about sexual orientation is not enough. One must also ask how that person navigates solitude. How they tolerate frustration. How they integrate aggressiveness. How they handle power. How they set boundaries. How they experience intimacy. How they respond to the admiration of others. How they face rejection. How they recognize their own vulnerabilities. Ultimately, how they love. Vocation does not suspend the human condition. At best, it elevates it.
Perhaps that is why the time has come to broaden the horizon of vocational discernment. Not to substitute spiritual criteria with psychological criteria, but to understand that both belong to one same integral vision of the person.
The Church has always been expert in discerning the movements of the spirit. Today it also possesses a much deeper knowledge of the movements of the psyche. To ignore this contribution would be to renounce instruments that can help better safeguard vocations, protect communities, and accompany with greater truth those who dedicate their entire lives to the Gospel. Not to “psychologize” vocation, but to guard it; not to substitute grace for psychology, but to recognize that grace acts upon a concrete humanity, always needing to continue growing.
Because human maturity is not a goal reached before ordination nor a requirement that, once verified, guarantees the rest of the journey. It is a permanent task. No one can consider themselves definitively integrated or immune to their own frailties. Life, relationships, and the exercise of ministry continue to confront each person with aspects of ourselves that require recognition, elaboration, and transformation.
After all, an authentic vocation does not belong to perfect people, but to men and women who, aware of their limits, learn to respond each day with greater freedom, humility, and truth to the call to give their life out of love. And this is a lifelong work; no one has a mental health certificate. But yes, with accompaniment, with psychology, without feeling “abandoned,” one could become a person who humbly responds, from their frailties, to the call to give their life. Because, ultimately, the Gospel never directed its gaze solely toward behaviors. It always directed it toward the heart.
María Noel Firpo, psychologist
*in psychology, “object” refers to everything that is not oneself, the subject.