How a Catholic School can Navigate LGBT+ Competitions and why that isn’t really a Solution
As Ireland continues to grapple with issues surrounding religious influence in schools, as many of you know, I am the only primary school principal from an ethnic minority, and I am keenly aware of how the State’s patronage system works. However, what I’ve come to realise is that my perspective on this system is far from straightforward. In fact, it’s a complicated, sometimes uncomfortable mix of defending the church’s role in upholding its ethos while also arguing for the separation of church and state.
Let me offer a little more context. I’m not exactly the “typical” ethnic minority principal. I don’t fit the stereotype — I don’t “look” like an ethnic minority, yet here I am, navigating a system that places religious bodies at the heart of school management, school life, in fact, it permeates the entire day and the entire system so much, that most people hardly even notice it. This situation has led me to become increasingly obsessed with the cognitive dissonance surrounding the patronage system.
For example, how many parents went along to First Confession with their child and thought about how odd it is for children to confess their sins? How many parents sent their child to school on Ash Wednesday and thought about the symbolism of it? How many parents thought about the commitment their child has made through Confirmation? In a couple of months time, how many parents will think of the commitment they are promising by sending their child for First Holy Communion?
While I know some people would take part in the above rituals without the education system involved, it’s quite clear the majority of people wouldn’t.
In short, I believe that no religious group should have any say over the operations of a state-run school system. But the reality is that they do, and the majority of people seem comfortable with it. This creates an odd tension where, at times, I find myself defending the church when they assert their rights to uphold their ethos. Take, for example, the case of Father Alphonsus advising his schools to avoid Yoga, a practice rooted in Buddhism. The ridicule he received for his stance was surprising to me, particularly given that we selectively embrace parts of Catholicism while dismissing others as outdated or irrelevant.
This brings me to a competition that has intrigued me for years: Different Families, Same Love (DFSL). This competition has become something of a mirror for the current debates about church influence in schools. It forces schools to confront their ethos and, often, to ask uncomfortable questions about the values they hold. From the very beginning, I’ve followed this competition with keen interest, and what fascinates me most is how the shortlist and winners are often dominated by schools that are either multidenominational or in areas with high levels of disadvantage and diversity.
However, when I discuss the competition with schools, there is often a roadblock. Many Catholic schools feel they cannot participate because doing so would, in their view, undermine their ethos. Essentially, the idea of recognising LGBT+ relationships conflicts with their Catholic values. It’s a stark and, to me, a deeply troubling sentence: LGBT+ relationships undermine a Catholic school’s ethos. It’s an uncomfortable truth that some schools are struggling with.
What I find particularly fascinating is the idea that a church leader must give a school permission to enter a competition like this. I can’t imagine that the same requirement applies to more mainstream school competitions like the Eason’s Spelling Bee or the An Post Handwriting Competition. In that sense, is it fair to say that competitions run by LGBT+ organisations inherently undermine a Catholic ethos? Interestingly, DFSL doesn’t stipulate that any of the families should be LGBT+, so this raises an important question: Is it just the LGBT+ aspect of the competition that church leaders object to, or are there other areas of concern, such as single-parent families?
There are many types of families that don’t fall foul of Catholic doctrine. If a school chooses to omit any families that might conflict with Catholic teachings from the competition — for instance, by only recognising traditional family structures — then I’m not sure why the patron would object. After all, the school would be upholding its ethos while still following the rules of the competition. While I don’t agree with this practice, I can see why it might not pose an issue for the patron. Moreover, would the patron need to give permission? Because the competition is run by an LGBT+ organisation, is that a problem for the Catholic church?
I’m aware that my passion for this topic might come across as harsh or uncompromising. After all, I am someone who finds himself unable to work in 96% of schools due to my ethnicity and beliefs. However, I do feel for those who are caught in this bind, forced to navigate a system in which they may not always agree with the values being imposed upon them.
On the other hand, I also empathise with those devout individuals who are trying to balance the church’s teachings with the more laissez-faire attitudes of their communities. This is a difficult line to walk, and one that leaves many school leaders feeling stuck between their personal beliefs and the expectations of their patrons.
Despite all the complexities, I do hope that more schools take part in the Different Families, Same Love competition. It’s a powerful disruptor in the system, encouraging schools to rethink their stance on inclusion and diversity. I genuinely believe it has the potential to inspire change — not just in terms of LGBT+ rights, but also in how schools approach family structures, diversity, and belonging in the broader sense.
I hope this reflection sparks some new thinking and, perhaps, encourages more schools to take a closer look at the competition and its potential to push boundaries. We need more of it.
