In His Words

A Call to Courage 
Fr. John Harvey, O.S.F.S.

In 1980, I responded to a call that would change my life and the lives of so many others in a profound way. Nearly four decades before, I had already answered the Lord’s call to the priesthood. This new call came from Terence Cardinal Cooke, then the Archbishop of New York. At that time, the cardinal noted that Catholic men and women with same-sex attraction had no shepherd in the Church to meet their needs, to minister to them and call them to holiness. As His Eminence was aware of the work I had done in this area, he contacted me and the organization Courage was born. I would experience God’s grace in ways that I never imagined when I was first ordained thirty-six years earlier. 

My story is one of influences and inspirations, all guided by God’s powerful hand. Its interest lies in the work that our good Lord ultimately called me to do. The Holy Spirit calls each of us to some unique and meaningful work. We find the greatest peace in this life when we say yes to that call. Each day I pray, “Yes, Lord, yes,” and “Thanks, Lord, thanks!” This is the story of my yes, for which I give God great thanks. 

My story begins with adversity that led to blessing. I was born in Philadelphia in 1918, the third of four children, and my mother passed away when I was only four. In the second grade, Sister St. Magdalene would read us stories of the saints, and by doing so she nurtured the seeds of a priestly vocation. She told us how St. Ignatius Loyola persuaded St. Francis Xavier to enter the fledgling Society of Jesus, how St. Francis gave up a chance to be a professor at the University of Paris to become a missionary in Japan and India, and how he died at the age of forty-six. I wanted to be like him, a missionary priest! All through grade school, that thought never left me. 

I came to view the nuns at my school, the Sisters of St. Joseph, as taking the place of my mother. They taught me, knew me, and, I believe, loved me. Even when trying to teach me to write with my right hand—I was naturally left-handed—they did so with patience and gentleness. On one occasion in eighth grade, a dear old nun was disciplining several of us for making noise and it was my turn to put out my hand to be smacked. I held out my right hand, trying to protect my left hand (after all, I was a southpaw pitcher!). She said softly, “Please put out your left hand,” and then added, “Some day you will be using your right hand for better purposes.” “How does she know I want to be a priest?”, I remember thinking. I was happy that she knew. 

After the eighth grade I took the scholarship examination for the local Jesuit high school, but I did not think my father could afford to send me there. This was during the Depression, and he had three other children to support. The school awarded five full scholarships, but I placed sixth in the ratings. I was not crushed, however. I had decided I wanted to go to Northeast Catholic, which was run by the Oblates of St. Francis de Sales.  An older friend told me the Oblates were good teachers.  At the time, I knew nothing about St. Francis de Sales.  It turned out to be a good choice, one that would direct the course of my life. 

During high school, my confessor was a diocesan priest that most of my peers chose to avoid because of his standard penance—a full Rosary! This did not dissuade me from seeing him each week, and I benefited from his good counsel. For example, when a young Oblate student-teacher unfairly gave me a punishment of conjugating French verbs, my fellow students suggested I refuse to do it. I took the matter to my confessor, and while he agreed I had been treated unjustly, he told me to remember that Jesus was treated unjustly to the point of death on the Cross. He said to accept the punishment for love of Christ. A lesson in obedience was instilled in my young mind, a lesson which would serve me well throughout my life. 

I was attracted by the gentle spirit of my Oblate priest-teachers. I turned down an offer of a full scholarship at St. Joseph’s College, a Jesuit institution. The Oblates of St. Francis had a hold on my heart. Fr. J. Francis Tucker, the first American Oblate, spoke each year at our student retreat, and I was deeply impressed. 

A few days after graduation, I was called to the high school to be interviewed by an Oblate. “You must know our life is very challenging,” he said. I answered, “Yes, I know,” thinking about the missionary activities of St. Francis Xavier (who was actually a Jesuit). 

When I applied to the Oblates I was given a thorough physical exam. The doctor said I had a heart valve problem and was underweight. He told me that I might live to be eighty or I could die young. I wondered whether the order would accept me. Feeling discouraged, I walked over to the high school and ran into the principal, Fr. William Stahl, O.S.F.S. He assured me, “We have many bad hearts in our house. Go to the novitiate.” In whatever condition, my heart was at home in the Oblates of St. Francis de Sales. I have never regretted my choice. 

St. Francis de Sales Shapes My Life 

I entered the Oblates novitiate in Childs, Maryland, on July 6, 1936. Despite the negative medical report, I had no health problems—even though the novitiate was much like boot camp in those days. The very first morning, the dormitory bell made sure we were in chapel by six o’clock for the Angelus. Following the Angelus, everyone was silent for some time, and I couldn’t understand why Mass didn’t begin. I soon came to learn that the daily schedule included spiritual reading, meditation, Mass, and prayer. 

During that first year we read and meditated on Holy Scripture and the writings of St. Francis de Sales, particularly his Introduction to the Devout Life. In the past six decades, I have gone over this volume countless times. I came to use it along with the Twelve Steps at Courage meetings. It took years for its lessons to shape my inner life. I found great strength in St. Francis’ discussion of the virtues of humility and gentleness, as well as in his words on anxiety and discouragement. Even recently, these lessons helped me in very personal circumstances, such as when I was the victim of a pickpocket in Rome and when a pastor denied me the privilege of delivering a eulogy at a close associate’s funeral.  Perhaps the most important virtue I learned from St. Francis de Sales was obedience to the desires of my superiors. During my novice year I was taught one does not wait until a superior demands obedience before carrying out his request. 

After my novitiate year, I headed for the Catholic University of America in Washington, D.C. During my two years of philosophy studies there I had an outstanding teacher, Dr. Rudolph Allers, who taught psychology in such a way that I decided to seek a master’s degree in it. In one semester Dr. Allers focused on the freedom of the will, using St. Augustine’s Confessions as the center of his discourse. This psychiatrist, with a wonderful background in philosophy and theology, made me think about ways of integrating the insights of psychology with those of philosophy and theology. 

The next step in my academic career was to enter a program for a licentiate degree in theology. My interest in psychology remained high, however, and in the summers of 1942 through 1944, I completed the psychology courses I had begun during my academic years but could not finish due to my theological coursework. I was on track for the priesthood, and I was ordained on June 3, 1944. Having reached the priesthood, I looked forward to integrating the perspectives I had learned in psychology with pastoral theology. 

In the fall of 1945, I took my final required course for a master’s degree in psychology. The professor, Gregory Zilbourg, was a distinguished Russian scholar who opened up my mind still further. I remember also the foreword of a book on child psychiatry in which the writer said that too often in the healing professions (medicine, psychology, and psychiatry), one speaks in terms of success or failure when really a better way of looking at difficult situations is to see things as open to improvement. The word used was amelioration, i.e., to make things better, even if only gradually. This concept would inform my later work in difficult pastoral situations. 

At this point I began teaching remedial reading back at Northeast Catholic High School in Philadelphia, the school where I was introduced to the Oblates of St. Francis de Sales as a teenager. I had a desire to work toward a doctorate in psychology at the University of Pennsylvania. In 1947, however, the superior of our house of formation in Washington, D.C. informed me that the Oblate Council wanted me to go back to Washington to study for a doctorate in moral theology. The Provincial Council had plans to begin a school of theology for Oblate candidates for priesthood, and they needed faculty to staff it. I was surprised by the request, which was not a mandate. I really wanted to study psychology while teaching high school in my hometown. I shared my dilemma with an elderly Irish nun who replied, “Father, consider that your provincial, his councilors, and your Washington superior all want you to study for a doctorate in moral theology so that you will be able to teach in your own seminary, and you hesitate? Don’t you see that their desire is for you God’s explicit will?” I knew she was right, and the lesson of obedience again came to the fore. I accepted my superior’s request. 

One year later, in 1948, I received a telegram from the provincial requesting that, as I worked on my doctorate, I would also teach two hours a week at Dunbarton College of the Holy Cross in Washington, D.C. I really didn’t want to do it, but—again, following St. Francis de Sales’ advice concerning a superior’s “request”—I agreed with the hope it would only be for one year. I ended up teaching moral theology there until the college closed in 1973. 

Theology, Psychology, and St. Augustine 

At the beginning of my second year in the theology program, I had to select a doctoral thesis in moral theology. I proposed to the academic dean Fr. Joannes Quasten the topic of healing grace. He took my outline but said that I did not have the necessary background for the topic and suggested he assign me one. Two weeks later, I began working on The Moral Theology of the Confessions of Saint Augustine. Father Quasten told me to do it in any form I desired, adding, however, that any quotes from the Confessions had to be substantiated by the Latin footnote at the bottom of the page. In writing about the moral content of this book, I came to understand more clearly Augustine’s concept of free will, which I had first learned about in a course taught by Dr. Allers some eight years previously. 

In the Confessions, Augustine presents an analysis of the will that stands us in good stead today. Augustine’s thought is helpful when treating questions of sexual impurity and the human battle to avoid giving in to these temptations. In our culture, we speak of someone with a strong will overcoming all kinds of obstacles on his way to success; on the other hand, we say that another person has a weak will, because he gives up too easily in a difficult task, or he is not able to resist temptations such as drinking, using drugs, or viewing pornography. But Augustine saw that what makes a will strong is found in one’s motives for actions. Where the purposes and motive are unified, one acts with determination. But when one’s motives are mixed, when one feels torn between what one ought to do and what one desires to do—such as in the case in alcoholism, drug addiction, and lustful sexual desires—one vacillates between avoiding the act and giving in to it. On the pastoral level, this would lead to the person learning how to strengthen his good motives in order to develop a strong will. 

I discussed this at length in my doctoral thesis, The Moral Theology of the Confessions of Saint Augustine (Catholic University of America, 1951). In the same volume I examined Augustine’s analysis of bad habit as a chain taking away our freedom. Today, we would call such bad habits addictions. 

One may discern four key links in this moral chain: (1) perverse will. This is found in the first deliberate act of impurity, which is primarily a rebellion of the spirit against the law of God. It is the basic “deordination” of the will from its greatest good, God, which gives rise to the consequent rebellion of the flesh against the spirit, and such disobedience to God’s law opens the way for the next stage, namely, (2) libido or perverted lust. The initial pleasure of lust stimulates and excites the individual to seek the same pleasure again, and with repetition comes the third stage: (3) consuetudo, by which the soul is drawn powerfully to the vice it has sought frequently. Thus, an evil habit is formed from continued license; and such may be termed (4) necessity. Just as a chain is fashioned from the individual links, so is the will entangled by repeated acts of impurity until the individual believes that he must have the pleasure that comes from the activation of the addiction. Consequently, he despairs of his ability to resist its violence and yields to its impulses, as if unavoidable. 

In summary, what Augustine called necessity is now described by psychologists as addiction or compulsion. You can see how freedom of the will decreases as the person gradually moves from one stage to another until he has lost freedom with regard to specific forms of sexual addictions—not only with illicit heterosexual and homosexual acts, but also the addictions to masturbation and pornography. This loss of freedom represents a loss of a great gift from God, namely, our ability to choose what is good. 

Thus, as I developed my doctoral thesis, I was integrating pastoral moral theology with psychological insights from the study of the Confessions. I was able to draw together both the theological and psychological elements found in the topics of weakness of will and addictions. These were the exact comparisons and integrations I had sought to make some years before when I wanted to study psychology. The Lord does provide when we choose obedience. I also found in the Confessions a concept that I would develop over the next fifty years of my life—a concept I refer to as interior chastity or chastity of the heart. 

The Lord Sets the Direction 

God has his mysterious ways. In 1953, I was teaching at De Sales School of Theology as well as at Dunbarton. Nine young priests, ordained at the end of their third year, wanted to have faculties to hear confessions during Holy Week which, that year, came at the end of March. In those days, all our newly-ordained priests had to pass a thirty-minute oral examination before being given the faculties to hear confession. This year, however, the provincial was sick, and in his absence a Scripture scholar and I prepared a written exam. 

All the students passed, but I was called in by the provincial, Father William F. Buckley, who asked, “How come your students do not know much about homosexuality?” I was surprised at this question. The scriptural scholar had included two questions about homosexuality and the students did not do well on them. I explained that in my course plan, the issue of homosexuality did not come up in pastoral theology until some time in April, and that we would cover it next month. He replied, “OK, but make sure that next year’s students know about homosexuality.” I walked out of his office determined that next year’s class would know about that issue and so, that summer, I spent many hours reading all the literature on it in Philadelphia’s Logan Library.

Up to this time, the topic of homosexuality had been nothing more than a Latin footnote in the classical moral manuals. It was one of the subjects to be treated in pastoral theology, but just one among others, like alcoholism, drug addiction, and pornography.

After my reading of both psychological and spiritual authors on the subject, I was eager to write an article on the psychological aspects of the homosexual condition. I wanted priests to know something about it. Within a few months I had a rough draft which I shared with some fellow moralists and an editor. I received encouraging feedback and made revisions, but it was not published until I sent it to Father John Courtney Murray, S.J., then editor of the quarterly Theological Studies. Fr. Murray published the article in the March 1955 issue under the title “The Pastoral Problem of Homosexuality.” When the article appeared, I received an immediate response from Jesuit missionaries throughout the world, many of them requesting reprints. I was happy that the article had been well received, but at the same time, I did not want to write about homosexuality again. Two years later, when Fr. John Ford, S.J., asked me why I had not written again on the subject, I admitted I didn’t want to be known as the “homosexual priest.” Fr. Ford encouraged me to continue writing on the subject. Because I had such esteem for him, I continued my research, which resulted in five published articles. 

Renewal, Rest, and Re-Creation 

My studies in the area of homosexuality were clearly meeting a need in the Church. I continued my teaching and pastoral work, and, by 1978, I began to give retreats to priests and brothers in perpetual vows who had experienced difficulties with same-sex attractions. These men were fearful that if anyone knew of their situation, they would be told to leave their diocese or religious order. The retreats were called “Renewal, Rest, and Re-Creation.” I had begun this work because several years earlier a fellow Oblate, Fr. John Kenny, had challenged me to do it, even offering to raise the needed money for the idea. From 1978 to 1990 we averaged two retreats per year in the Diocese of Arlington, Virginia. Fr. Kenny was secretary-treasurer of our little enterprise and I gave the retreats. I was also ably assisted by Dr. John Kinnane, who taught at the Catholic University of America and was in private practice as a clinical psychologist. Once again, the Lord used someone else’s prompting to bring out a good work through me. 

As happened later in Courage, those who worked on the retreats and those who attended bound themselves to anonymity and confidentiality. I estimate about 250 priests and brothers made the retreats while I conducted them. (I would later write about this program in my book The Homosexual Person.) I was able to refer some of the priests and brothers to treatment centers where they would get further help. It was not an easy program; there were five days of rigorous self-examination and prayer. I worked with each participant personally, and I believe that most of them benefited from the experience. Sadly, the retreat program had little support from most of the bishops of that period, though Arlington’s Bishop Thomas Welsh gave it warm support. When I was no longer able to conduct the retreats, I handed over the reins to a religious brother who continues the ministry today. 

Those gatherings taught me the importance of group spirituality among members. I learned the powerful influence of group support in helping priests wounded with same-sex attraction who are striving to remain faithful to their promises and vows of chastity. I can see now that God was preparing me for something more.

Courage is Born 

Aware of “Renewal, Rest, and Re-Creation,” Fr. Benedict Groeschel (a Capuchin at the time) asked me to come to New York and discuss a similar group for Catholic lay men and women with same-sex attraction. Cardinal Cooke, the Archbishop of New York, had realized that Catholic men and women with same-sex attraction had no adequate guidance. The cardinal asked me to begin a support group and I readily agreed. 

We formed the group in September 1980. Every Friday afternoon, I would come up from Washington to preside at this first gathering of five men and then meet with them individually afterwards. These men developed the five primary goals of Courage:1

1. Chastity. Live chaste lives in accordance with the Church’s teaching on homosexuality. 

2. Prayer and Dedication. Dedicate one’s life to Christ through service to others, spiritual reading, prayer, meditation, individual spiritual direction, frequent attendance at Mass, and the frequent reception of the sacraments of Reconciliation and Holy Eucharist. 

3. Fellowship. Foster a spirit of fellowship in which all may share thoughts and experiences, and so ensure that no one will have to face the problems of homosexuality alone. 

4. Support. Be mindful of the truth that chaste friendships are not only possible but necessary in a chaste Christian life and in doing so provide encouragement to one another in forming and sustaining them. 

5. Good Example. Live lives that may serve as good examples to others. 

Early in the history of Courage, we ran into opposition from a few members who were unable to make the distinction between Courage and another group, Dignity. Courage emphasized chastity. Dignity was vague about the issue at first, and later took the position that same-sex acts between two persons could be moral if there was fidelity and love—a position contrary to authentic Catholic teaching. Later, at our 1990 annual conference in Philadelphia, some visitors who were not Courage members requested that Courage also strive to bring its members out of the homosexual condition, a process known as reparative therapy. It was suggested this could be the sixth goal. The members rejected the idea. Many members who choose to lead a life of chastity in the world do not feel the need for reparative therapy. Courage encourages its members to seek psychological help to move away from the condition but this is an option, not an obligation. Courage now continues to stress the development of meditation, a prayer life, interior chastity, and the formation of chaste friendships as a protection of the gift of chastity. In the latter part of my priestly ministry a considerable portion of my time has been spent with the parents of persons with same-sex attraction. They, too, need the help of the Church as they strive to accept the permissive will of God, with all the heartaches they experience in seeing one of their children in a lifestyle contrary to the Gospel. The ministry within Courage to help them—Encourage—began in 1990 in the Boston area, and it has been a great support to parents and friends of those struggling with same-sex attraction. 

Despite its slow growth, due in large part to a massive indifference on the part of many clergy and laity alike, Courage has a clear program for the future. It aims to promote interior chastity—or chastity of the heart—within the Church. It stresses that each person must develop a life of prayer and interior chastity, supported by chaste friends. 

Just before Christmas 2000, I became seriously ill with water on the lung, an irregular heartbeat, and bleeding ulcers. In most ways, I have recovered but have slowed down a bit. I now spend only three or four days a week on Courage concerns. My prayer for Courage at this time is that the Lord will provide a priest to assume the role of national leader. In the midst of our work, which at times seems daunting, I recall what Pope John Paul II said to David Morrison, one of our more well-known members: “Courage is doing the work of God.” It is this conviction that keeps us going. 

Humility and the Salesian Spirit 

As St. Francis de Sales lay on his deathbed, speechless from a stroke, the Visitation nuns asked him to write down the three most important virtues in their way of life. He wrote: “humility, humility, humility.” Humility, the loving acceptance of one’s limitations, joined to a trust that God gives us strength to carry out his will, is central to the Salesian way of life. 

In the Salesian view, what you do is not as important as how you do it—the spirit with which you act. That is why St. Francis de Sales gave the Visitation Order and the Oblates of St. Francis de Sales a Spiritual Directory to guide one’s prayer through the hours of the day and night, from morning prayer to night prayer. In part three of his Directory, St. Francis de Sales recommends that one direct the principal actions of the day to God, while accepting all the difficulties which one may encounter. Truly living the Spiritual Directory is more difficult than the performance of many external acts of penance. But once you begin this Directory life of prayer, you will want to hold on to it. As Oblates, we endeavor to use these interior acts of prayer in our daily ministry of Catholic education on every level, from grade school to university. The same spirit is found in parishes and missions where Oblates work. This spirit relies on a sense of humility. 

I follow the Salesian spirit in my daily counseling sessions, at Courage meetings, in preaching on Sundays in parishes, and in responding to critics of the Courage and Encourage ways of life. In brief, I strive to exercise my priesthood in imitation of St. Francis de Sales. 

In stressing the need which every priest, whether diocesan or religious, has for an interior life of prayer, I certainly do not intend to minimize the value of our external activities. All priests have very significant external acts to perform every day. The most important is the administration of all the sacraments save holy orders, which is ordinarily reserved to bishops. In the writings of St. Francis de Sales, however, the most important act that a priest performs is the offering of Jesus in the Holy Sacrifice of the Mass. Each day centers around the Mass, either in preparing for it from the evening before (hence, in the past, the observance of le grand silence), or in offering thanks to the Holy Trinity at the end of Mass. 

At my ordination in 1944, I resolved that I would say Mass every day, as long as my health allowed. I have often been asked, “Father, does a priest have to say Mass every day?” The answer is no. Only once was I asked—in 1947 by a ten-year-old girl—“Father, do you like to say Mass?” The answer is yes! Even in their sickness, some priests continue to say Mass every day. 

The administration of the sacrament of Reconciliation, the anointing of the seriously ill, and the confirming of converts are all actions in which the priest acts in persona Christi, in the person of Christ. Those who aspire to the priesthood should ask themselves whether they are willing to act in Christ’s place in administering the sacraments. Pope John Paul II biographer George Weigel put it very accurately: a priest is an icon of Christ. This is his identity, not whether he is an administrator of an apostolate, or chaplain to the New York Yankees, or a brilliant canon lawyer. I remember autographing one of my books for a Vatican archbishop who said, “Address it ‘Father.’ ‘Father’ is my most important title.” 

A Word to Aspirants to the Priesthood 

I would say that aspirants to the priesthood, whether they seek to be diocesan or religious order priests, should put aside personal ambition and seek only to follow Christ in the mission of the religious order or in the work of the diocese. Allow those in authority to direct you to the work of Christ, as it is discerned by the bishop or religious order superior. This does not mean that you become passive; there is plenty of room for creative approaches in the varied ministries of the Church. 

At the present moment the Church is suffering from an over-reaction to the recent sexual abuse scandals. Some have held that the mere presence of same sex-attraction in a man is sufficient reason to exclude him from a religious order or a diocesan seminary. I do not believe that the Vatican will accept this view. From my fifty years of experience in counseling priests and laity, I know many priests and laity with same sex-attraction who lead chaste lives. For aspirants to priesthood and religious life, I propose another reflection on interior chastity. 

In our contemporary culture, with its seductive images of sexuality and its reduction of the marital act to an instrument of physical ecstasy, it is difficult for those who believe in the virtue of chastity to avoid the fantasies of pleasure constantly thrust at them in the media. It is understandable that one who seeks to lead a chaste life may find himself battling sexual fantasies. Such a person may find himself drawn towards physical sex but refuse to give in. By the grace of God he remains chaste but with much torment. This may be described as “white-knuckle chastity,” the imperfect virtue St. Thomas Aquinas refers to as continence. 

As one learns to pray with the heart by daily meditation, though, one finds it easier to resist lust. Notice I did not say easy, but easier. The regular habit of mental prayer strengthens the motives for chastity, gradually purifying the heart and leading the individual to see chastity as another form of love of God. One may say that prayer of the heart leads to chastity of the heart, to a personal love of Jesus Christ. At this point in one’s spiritual development, one seeks friends who also are chaste out of love for Christ. Such friendships help to preserve the chastity of the two friends or of the group of friends. 

It is the work of the Holy Spirit that has guided the choices I made in entering a religious community. Of course, the Holy Spirit often worked mysteriously in my vocation, and I am sure there were times I followed Him without my knowing it. I thank Him for the guidance which He gave me, particularly through others. Only through the promptings of the Spirit can one be called to religious life and the priesthood. I say to those aspiring to either: Open your hearts to the Holy Spirit! 

1. For more information on the origins of Courage, I refer the reader to my books The Homosexual Person (Ignatius Press, 1987) and The Truth about Homosexuality: the Cry of the Faithful (Ignatius Press, 1996).

Editors' Note: Father John Harvey, O.S.F.S, passed away on December 27, 2010, at the age of ninety-two. His decades-long ministry, primarily as director of the Courage apostolate, was a blessing to thousands in their struggles with same-sex attraction. Father Harvey was a man of great pastoral courage and humility; a priest who served others with the charity of the Good Shepherd. We are deeply grateful that Father Harvey generously contributed his inspiring vocational story to this book and pray that the Lord reward his faithful servant well.