Ex-priest: “The monarchical church must die” and thinks priesthood is a form of apartheid

Pierre Stutz was a priest and religious brother. He suffered from his homosexuality for decades. A breakdown at the age of 38 freed him - and gave him the opportunity to write. He also sees good sides in failure. An interview about self-love, the “sacrament of the toothbrush” and how he bribed a nun.

Your  new autobiographical book is called “How I Became the One I Like.” Who helped you learn to like yourself?

Pierre Stutz*: I had incredible suffering for 49 years. On the outside I was the communicative, radiant man and on the inside I was desperately unhappy, I was trapped in the fear of rejection. I had my first breakdown when I was 38. When I was a priest in Neuchâtel, I sometimes went to psychotherapy three times a week. I have already experienced liberation there.

“Mystical texts were the black bread of my soul.”

What else helped you to reconcile yourself?

Stutz: During my two-year burnout - I was a shadow of myself - I chewed mystical texts every day. That was the black bread of my soul. That nourished me. And gave me perspective. And this gave me permission to write.

You banned yourself from writing books for 38 years. Why?

Stutz: As a child, the priest said: The will of God can be recognized. Where we have to make an effort and grit our teeth, that is where we should move on. What comes easy to us, what gives us pleasure, has the devil in it.

What did that do to you as a child?

Stutz: It blocked me from writing. I was afraid that if I did what was easy for me and was good, that I would no longer be loved.

“As a church, we have to get to the bottom of these toxic structures.”

What did you find difficult to write?

Stutz: That I was abused as a child - outside of family and church. It wasn't easy because it is still a wound, even though I have experienced healing. I found out about this once from an unknown man. I could only survive by getting out of my body and repressing it for 32 years. The idea that someone had to suffer repeated abuse and then at the hands of a trusted person like a priest almost tears me apart. As a church, we must get to the bottom of these toxic structures.

Why?

Stutz: It is a mockery if we say at every mass: “We proclaim your death” and then do not grow into the trust that church structures have to die in order to be able to experience the liberating message of Jesus together anew. Dying does not mean shrinking in size and that nothing changes. Hurtful and discriminatory dogmas of the church are a betrayal of God's love. They have to be broken down.

How do you currently view the issue of abuse in Switzerland?

Stutz: Statements of concern from the bishops are not enough. I call on everyone involved in the church, including bishops who really want reforms, to no longer accept a monarchical church structure and to overcome it. As a Herbert Haag Prize winner, I tirelessly remind you of what Professor Haag competently demonstrated in 1997: The church crisis will become stronger as long as there is a two-state church - priests and laypeople - that contradicts the message of Jesus.

“Entering the monastery was also an escape.”

The keyword love appears frequently in your book. They emphasize that it is important not only to be there for others, but also to heed part two of Jesus' call for love: Love your neighbor as yourself. Why?

Stutz: I can't be a lover if I don't love myself. I was socialized to always be there for others. But it wasn't until much later that I learned to defend myself or stand by myself when the majority didn't think it was great.

Even when you entered the monastery, you focused on others and forgot about yourself.

Stutz: I had a great search for God that was always there. But entering the monastery was also an escape. In the monastery it was clear: see Jesus in every person and feel what others need. But I came up short there. That's one of the reasons it took me so long to come out as gay.

You came out at “Out in Church” along with over 120 people. What were the reactions?

Stutz: I received a lot of support. One person wrote to me saying I was going to hell.

How did you react to that?

Stutz: Nobody can send me to hell. I come from the absolute depths, from captivity.

“I didn’t want to be part of the minority of queer people.”

For a long time you couldn't accept who you are. But you were able to speak God's love to other homosexual people.

Stutz: That’s true. At my first pastorate in Fricktal, a young homosexual woman came to me. I could tell her from my heart that she is loved by God. I offered to go to her parents if she came out. I was able to admit to everyone that they were good the way they were. However, I didn't want to be part of the minority of queer people. So I became a workaholic. I did a 30-day retreat, I tried so hard, I was successful on the outside, but I was desperately unhappy on the inside. Luckily, my soul was never blinded by success! She screamed louder and louder due to psychosomatic illnesses.

What were you afraid of?

Stutz: I didn't want to lose my job as a priest - that's also one reason why many priests are still afraid to come out today.

“You can trust that new strength will emerge from this.”

What do you recommend to people who are in a similar situation to yours?

Stutz: I hope that through my life story – with all the disruptions I have had to experience – I can encourage others to seek support.

You have perished and see something positive in it. In what way?

Stutz: If you want real healing, you can't avoid getting to the bottom of the suffering you experience. You can trust that new strength will emerge from this. Of course, I am aware that heavy things can also break you. I would like to encourage everyone: we can grow from this.

But some see their lives in ruins. There is no stone left unturned.

Stutz: Something can be built from these stones. I believe that you can discover something new within yourself - in all the brokenness. God is born in you. I experience again and again that many people don't want to go through the pain. I love being a Christian so passionately - with interreligious openness - because being a lover also means being a sufferer. Love and suffering are the great transformative forces of our lives. If we constantly run away from suffering, from crisis, then we distance ourselves from the design of God within us.

So failure in life shouldn't be seen as a bad thing?

Stutz: God is there in failure. Failure can be an opportunity - but it doesn't have to be sought. That would be a perversion. But: Light can only shine through where there is a crack.

“Walking into silence can also become a blessing.”

As a child and young adult, it was terrible for you to be lonely. Today you are looking for solitude. How did this change come about?

Stutz: One day I celebrated the Eucharist. I was so moved by this depth that I was speechless. That was terrible at first. But then I knew: This is my gateway to life, new words will be given to me when I lose the fear of emptiness. Loneliness can be terrible, but we can overcome it through solidarity. Walking into silence can also become a blessing. Being alone I write being alone. I give this a different interpretation. My breakdown gave rise to my new mission in life: to bring people into silence.

In your book you talk about the “sacrament of the toothbrush”. What do you mean by that?

Stutz: I always wanted to be who I am. I wanted to be loved and seen unconditionally. And then I met a family with whom I have been friends for several years now. They once told me that they have a toothbrush for me in the bathroom and that I can come whenever I want. For me, this acceptance is a blessing, a grace. This is sacrament. I don't have to bring anything, but I receive divine closeness.

A passage in your autobiography that makes you smile is a scene in the seminary.

Stutz: Yes, I bribed a nun not to clean my room.

Why?

Stutz: I need housework. I have to be able to tackle it.

How did you go about it?

Stutz: I repeatedly begged the nun to be able to clean my room myself. However, she saw the cleaning work as her duty. I found out by chance that she loves Lindt chocolate. She immediately accepted my bribe: every week I bought her two bars of chocolate so that I could clean my room myself.

* Pierre Stutz (69) was a diocesan priest in the diocese of Basel until 2002. After coming out, he resigned from the priesthood. Today he works as a speaker and author and lives with his partner in Germany.   (Cathcon: he gives conferences on such (un) wholesome topics as "Experiencing divine blessing in orgasm".