True to the basic doctrines of their church, Mormon homosexuals seek to resolve awkward conflicts

Kate McNeil, Daily Herald

Like other students at Brigham Young University, Matt Kulisch has walked across campus many times.

But the walk that meant the most to him was the one when he returned to the campus after being banned for 72 hours for participating in a gay advocacy group's demonstration. It was a violation of BYU rules.

On his return, he slowly climbed the hill north of the Tanner Building, still a Mormon, still an English major, but now also something else. He was an openly homosexual BYU student, a rare commodity on the conservative campus where the display of anything other than a heterosexual orientation can get you expelled.

"It was the most liberating moment of my life," Kulisch said.

Kulisch chose BYU because of his Mormon faith, and because of the low tuition made possible by The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, which heavily subsidizes the school. But, like other homosexual students, he found himself in an uncomfortable situation, constrained in the expression of what he believes are core elements of his personality.

At age 19, Kulisch told his family that he was gay. But he remained a faithful Mormon and served a proselyting mission in London. He returned to BYU and for three years followed the usual pattern: he kept silent.

He is one of an unknown number of Mormons live with an internal tug-of-war: their minds tell them they're gay; their church tells them they're wrong. Each deals with the struggle in different ways, from repression of feelings to the abandonment of faith. Few find a comfortable middle ground.

Studies vary on the number in the human population who identify themselves as homosexual. One early pioneer in human sexuality, Alfred Kinsey, suggested that number was as high as 10 percent, but a more comprehensive study, the National Health and Social Life Survey, shows numbers in the 4 to 5 percent range. Given BYU's enrollment of approximately 30,000, that would place the number of homosexual students at between 1,500 and 3,000.

In 2006, after many meetings with BYU counselors, Kulisch decided he had been quiet long enough. He got involved with the gay advocacy group, Soulforce, which landed him on probation with the BYU Honor Code office and eventually led him to a transfer to the University of Utah. He is no longer affiliated with the LDS Church, but not by choice, he said.

In March of this year, he returned to his former school as a co-coordinator of an annual demonstration by Soulforce, which agitates at conservative schools to draw public attention. With an "End Homophobia" pin on his messenger bag, Kulisch, along with other members of the group, walked the 4.2-mile perimeter of BYU. He was "out," and he and his fellow demonstrators were kept outside the campus boundary.

An adjective, not a noun

The LDS Church has not wavered from its stance against homosexual behavior, though its position has varied on its causes and consequences. The church has supported initiatives around the nation against the legalization of gay marriage. It reserves sexual activity for heterosexual marriages only, which by definition closes the door for homosexuals.

At the same time, LDS President Gordon B. Hinckley and other leaders have frequently expressed love toward members with homosexual "inclinations," as distinguished from behavior. BYU's standard for behavior mirrors the church's.

For people like Kulisch who grew up in the church and took its main doctrines to heart, the reconciliation can be a rough emotional ride. Their faith tells them that they were created as sons and daughters of God and that God made them as they are. Yet they are told that they must repudiate their nature when it comes to their most intimate and personal thoughts and feelings.

An analogy is sometimes drawn to black men, who were barred from the church's priesthood until 1978 solely because of their race, a factor over which they had no control.

While church leaders have delicately acknowledged the possibility of a genetic contribution to homosexuality along with environmental factors, they have also emphasized keeping natural desires in check, and especially homosexual ones. Elder Dallin H. Oaks, member of the Quorum of the Twelve Apostles, is cited as providing an authoritative position in a 1995 article in a church magazine, the Ensign, and in a 2006 interview on the church's Web site, lds.org.

Though the statements of church apostles are not always regarded as official church doctrine (some viewpoints -- such as those on the origins of race by former Apostle Bruce R. McConkie and church president Brigham Young -- have been quietly repudiated), many Mormons regard speeches and writings of their current leaders as ongoing revelation from God, and even as "modern scripture."

In his lds.org interview, Oaks laid down a view that is widely held as official. "Men are that they might have joy," he said. "In the eternal perspective, same-gender activity will only bring sorrow and grief and the loss of eternal opportunities."

"Homosexual feelings are controllable," Oaks said. "It's no sin to have inclinations that, if yielded to, would produce behavior that would be a transgression. The sin is in yielding to temptation. Homosexuality ... is not a noun that describes a condition. It's an adjective that describes feelings or behavior."

That concept was imprinted on the BYU Honor Code earlier this year, when the rule on the expression of sexual orientation and advocacy was modified in a way that provided encouragement to many in the same-sex community. What some viewed as ambiguous and pressurizing language has now been adjusted, apparently to allow a student to at least state his or her sexual orientation without penalty.

In the past, the code was viewed by gay and lesbian students as open to interpretation, and it created anxiety. If a person were to express himself or herself truthfully, expulsion from school could result. For example, the previous version of the code could be read (and was, according to some) as prohibiting a simple statement identifying one's sexual orientation. Such a statement could be viewed as advocacy.

Now, under the section dealing with "a chaste and virtuous life," the language focuses on behavior, and what behavior may symbolize. For example, no homosexual student may demonstrate any form of physical intimacy that gives expression to same-sex feelings -- holding hands, for example.

The outward expression of intimacy between men and women is not expressly prohibited.

The Honor Code now reads: "Brigham Young University will respond to homosexual behavior rather than to feelings or orientation and welcomes as full members of the university community all whose behavior meets university standards. Members of the university community can remain in good Honor Code standing if they conduct their lives in a manner consistent with gospel principles and the Honor Code.

"One's stated sexual orientation is not an Honor Code issue. However, the Honor Code requires all members of the university community to manifest a strict commitment to the law of chastity. Homosexual behavior or advocacy of homosexual behavior are inappropriate and violate the Honor Code. Homosexual behavior includes not only sexual relations between members of the same sex, but all forms of physical intimacy that give expression to homosexual feelings. Advocacy includes seeking to influence others to engage in homosexual behavior or promoting homosexual relations as being morally acceptable."

BYU spokeswoman Carri Jenkins said that the change -- a minor adjustment that she said doesn't change the school's stance -- arose from questions raised by eight students earlier this year over what was meant by "advocacy."

Gays and lesbians have hailed the adjusted language as significant progress that may lead one day to full acceptance of homosexual behavior. One homosexual BYU student who spoke to the Daily Herald on condition of anonymity said it's even commonly believed among gays at BYU that the LDS Church will one day receive a revelation from God regarding gays, much like the 1978 revelation allowing blacks to be ordained to the church's priesthood.

Given history, recent statements by key church leaders and attitudes of Mormons, that seems unlikely.

In 1997, three BYU students conducted a poll at the school in which 41 percent of respondents described the LDS Church as accepting homosexuals "as long as they change their sexual orientation." Thirty-three percent said homosexuals were acceptable if they "live the church's law of chastity."

Ten percent of the respondents believed that the church excommunicates gays and lesbians; 80 percent said that they would not live with a gay or lesbian roommate; and 42 percent said that gays and lesbians should be barred from attending BYU even if they're not sexually active. [Church statements on homosexuality are listed at ldsviews.notlong.com.]

"I see our living prophet of God tell us that while homosexuality is not part of God's plan, gays should be reached out to with love," said a gay student. "I don't feel BYU does that."

A Celibate Christian

When Christian Harrison came to Provo in 1993, his head was packed with stereotypical images about homosexuals -- outlandish clothing, pedophilia -- which is why he resisted acknowledging his own sexual orientation.

"I knew I liked guys at BYU but I said to myself, 'I can't be gay,' " he said.

Before his freshman year was over, however, Harrison said he had made the leap.

But he didn't leap away from his faith. Even though his church and school condemned what he knew to be his intrinsic nature, Harrison said, he made "no conscientious decision" to abandon his Mormonism. He stuck with it.

"There are gay students at BYU going out clubbing and having sex," Harrison said. "Outside of Provo, they are as gay as Liberace. Others are so deep in the closet that the only person who knows is Heavenly Father."

In college he had been among the latter group, he said.

"I had a positive experience at BYU, but I didn't exactly let people know I was gay," he said. "I minded my p's and q's and didn't get into trouble." In fact, his only run-in was having a crush on his roommate and having to change apartments.

He dated lots of women, but mostly to disguise the truth. "Going out with girls was fun, but fun like going out with my sister," he said. "The daughters of Zion deserve to be loved fully."

Today, Harrison is a proud BYU alumnus and the clerk of his LDS ward in Salt Lake City. His homosexual orientation is on the table.

"I am an out gay man who's an active Latter-day Saint. In my Salt Lake ward, my bishopric knows, my stake presidency knows, the Relief Society president knows. It's not a secret," Harrison said.

A returned missionary, Harrison says he accepts being subject to the same commandments as any other church member, namely the law of chastity -- no sexual relations outside of marriage. Because the LDS Church recognizes marriage only between a man and a woman, he said, celibacy keeps his membership intact.

Harrison frequently dates other men, but "pre-mission" style, with strict obedience to the law of chastity. He declined to give more detail.

He also knows that he will never be called to serve with the young men of the church or Primary children. But he still isn't leaving Mormonism.

"I've never considered leaving the church, ever," he said. "The church is true. It's inconvenient, but it's true."

Harrison knows that he is in the minority: "By and large, the majority of gay men in the church leave the church, and in no small way. They leave the church and everything else behind, which is a shame. It's a terrible loss to the church and the kingdom of God."

An Unwanted Attraction

"Homosexuality is something that I've grown up with my entire life," a gay student told the Herald. "I first remember homosexual feelings when I was 8 -- it's an unwanted attraction."

The Californian came to BYU in hopes of overcoming his "temptation" -- a word some LDS leaders have used to describe homosexuality.

"I went to BYU knowing the Honor Code I'd have to abide by," he said. "Gay students come to BYU initially either from the pressures of their LDS families or because they have the desire to change. Most that I've talked to, it's usually the latter."

At first, being at BYU and not talking about his sexuality made him want to act out even more, he said. But now he describes himself as straight, and he hopes to marry and have a family someday.

His biggest supporters in that goalfi Other gay BYU students.

"Mostly it was them befriending me and saying, 'Hey, it's OK,' " he said. "It gave me time to figure it out."

He still hangs out with other gay students, offering support where he can: "Most of them feel fairly oppressed. If anything, they suffer from severe depression because they're not allowed to talk about it with anybody. Most of them want to be straight. They do everything they can -- study scriptures, pray, fast a lot and follow what the church teaches."

He hangs out with his straight friends at school and church, but on weekends he's the designated driver for all his gay friends. At the nightclubs, they introduce him as straight.

"The more I'm around gay people, the more it relieves the stress," he said. "I'm not hiding things. It's kind of like not exploding." Exploding, he says, is having male roommates who don't know you're gay. It's feeling shame for checking out a guy in the library.

Finding a support group has helped more than hindered. It's not so easy for others, he says, because most gays at BYU can't talk to their straight friends about their orientation. They seek out other venues, like the Internet, where they talk anonymously of alienation, suicide and other effects of being "in the closet." But he says most are just looking for a good time, not a good talk.

"I'd say 70 percent of those chatting are looking for sex," he said. "All this discreetness in the church and at BYU, it leads to promiscuity. This is their only contact with homosexuality, and so they go and act out on it."

He said he has never "acted out" and firmly believes in the law of chastity, for both straight and gay couples, as taught by the LDS Church. He dates women "on and off." His biggest wish is that those who come to BYU who are struggling with the conflict between faith and sexual orientation should be allowed to talk about it without fear.

"Sometimes it's the most hellish thing you could ever go through," he said. "I think it's the hardest whenever I feel alone and I'm not busy with other things and all my friends are getting married and having babies. My life would be a thousand times easier if I could tell my friends, 'Here's the reason why I'm not married and I need your help.' "

A Safe Family

Harrison, the gay ward clerk, grew weary of facades. "At BYU, I tiptoed for five years," he said. "Your ankles hurt after five years."

Reaching out to others, he started a family home evening group for gay Mormons. They meet the third Monday of each month. Family home evening is a Mormon tradition of togetherness, and Harrison's group enjoys some of that. But it's a different sort of family with an additional purpose.

"We're a safe place for people who are both leaving the church and staying in the church," he said. "We're a safe place for people who think that change is possible, and for people who think change is blasphemy."

But mostly the meetings are a place to talk -- something most gay Mormons can't do easily.

"There's nothing worse than coming to terms with your sexuality in a vacuum," Harrison said. "I think BYU is still trying to figure out how to pronounce the word gay."

At the group's Jan. 8 meeting, discussion shifted, as it often does, to being gay at BYU. Participants talked about suffering and alienation. They also expressed hope for a change.

One said he believed that current BYU leaders are "more liberal" than those in the past "but the policies are still in place and people are terrified."

'I don't exist'

BYU makes no apologies. "We recognize that BYU is not for everyone," said Carri Jenkins, the public relations voice of the university. It is a school for Mormons, she said, owned and largely funded by the LDS Church, whose moral standards are well known.

Yet because of their religious orientation, some gay Mormons continue to want to attend BYU, even in the face of deeply personal conflicts between faith and self.

"If a gay student says he's here and exists, there's a wish he wouldn't be here," said another gay student who also requested anonymity. "There's a total disregard of the issue. It's swept under the rug. I don't exist."

Critics of BYU and the church often cite speeches by church leaders, some of which date back decades. One of those is a speech in 1978 by Elder Boyd K. Packer to BYU students. It was titled "To the One," -- a reference to the minority of individuals who are homosexual. The address mentioned the reluctance of the church to talk much about homosexuality. [See speech at www.totheone.notlong.com.]

"There is a reason why we in the church do not talk more openly about this subject," Packer said. "Some matters are best handled very privately." He then compared homosexuality to reading pamphlets about various diseases: "Read enough about it and you'll think you've got it," he said, quoting a friend.

Harrison, the ward clerk, says he has "got it," yet he reads his scriptures every day. Other gay Mormons are working to change their sexual orientation. Some, like Kulisch, have been punished for speaking out. Kulisch is now exploring Eastern faiths.

For Harrison, it's better to stay connected. "Some leave because they feel betrayed. Some leave because they can't see a place for themselves in the church. But the church is designed to bring us joy," he said. "It's possible to find joy."

This story appeared in The Daily Herald on page A1.