Same-sex marriage: At Loyola University, advocates of same-sex marriage find a voice

Same-sex marriage: At Loyola University, advocates of same-sex marriage find a voice
By Mary Schmich
March 27, 2009
http://www.chicagotribune.com/news/columnists/chi-schmich-27-mar27,0,5736306.column


When John Litchfield, who's 26, enrolled at Loyola University's Chicago School of Law three years ago, he went to the student activities fair looking for the gay and lesbian support group. There wasn't one.

The lack of an official gay group at a Catholic school might not surprise you since the Roman Catholic church deems homosexual behavior a sin. But Litchfield was surprised. He had come to Loyola convinced that he'd be as accepted there as he was by his Catholic grandmother in Flossmoor, the south suburb where he grew up.

"I thought, OK, I know I'm not the only one here," he said when we met on Thursday.

"Where are they?"

He found them. That year, he and a few other gay students formed a group, called OUTlaw. One of the deans signed on as an adviser.

And on Thursday, the flat-screen TVs all over the law school were advertising the group's latest venture: a big symposium on same-sex marriage.

If Loyola were a public school, I might have deleted Litchfield's e-mail about the symposium. Life is heavy with press releases. But the fact that one of Chicago's Catholic institutions was opening its grand "ceremonial courtroom" to same-sex marriage advocates seemed worth some consideration.

"I think this reflects young Catholics in Chicago," said Litchfield, a slender guy with short auburn hair, neatly dressed in slacks, a white shirt and a navy pullover sweater. When I arrived, he'd been reading a news article—new rules for hedge funds—on his iPod.

"People in this age group, 22 to 30," he went on, "are mature, able to think things through."

He doesn't mean that all young Catholics think gays should be allowed to marry. But except for a single instance in his first year—someone ripped the group's posters off a wall in a locker room—he's felt entirely supported at this school where crucifixes hang in the classrooms.

Litchfield wasn't raised Catholic, but—"I know it sounds really schmaltzy"—Loyola feels like family. He points out that it's not just Catholic, it's run by Jesuit priests.

"The Jesuits value diversity," he said. "They value education and discourse. If you're pro-choice or you're gay, you're someone who can add to the discussion."

And so on Friday there will be a discussion.

Greg Harris, the Chicago state representative who is shepherding a civil-unions bill through the Illinois legislature, will be on the panel. So will lawyers pressing for same-sex marriage in Iowa and California.

The panelists will be there to advocate. Litchfield anticipates students who will come to argue. It's all part of the education.

Litchfield himself isn't ready to be married.

"But when I am," he said, "I want my devotion to this person to be recognized the same way my parents' devotion to each other is recognized. I want my kids to be able to say, 'Yeah, my parents are married.' "

After a while, we walked over to the ceremonial courtroom where the symposium will be held. The ceilings soared, and Chicago rose across the walls of windows.

Out in the changing, growing city, old buildings crowded next to new ones, and next to buildings so freshly under construction that you couldn't know exactly what they'd look like, only that one day soon they'd be there, and that once they were there, we'd take them for granted.

Just like, I'm betting, same-sex marriage.

For information on the symposium, go to chicagotribune.com/conference