Openly gay Catholic priest walks into a room; receives standing ovation

The Rev. Gregory Greiten delivers a final message to those gathered to wish him farewell. Photo: Gerald Farinas.

Today, I had the privilege of attending the farewell reception for the Rev. Gregory Greiten, longtime pastor of the Northwest Milwaukee Catholic Parishes.

After 14 faithful years of ministry in that community—marked by tenderness, justice, and unshakable faith—Father Greg is stepping into a new calling, appointed to serve a larger parish within the Archdiocese of Milwaukee in Pewaukee, Wis.

New faces. New challenges. Maybe a little drama because what’s a church without it?

It was a celebration laced with joy and tears. Parishioners spoke with deep affection.

I sat with a couple Father Greg recently married. Around me, people spoke of meals shared and funerals tenderly presided over.

They remembered how he welcomed the Hmong Catholic community with open arms—gifting him beautiful hand-embroidered stoles in green and purple.

Poetic—the color of Ordinary Time when Jesus’ ministry is recounted and his following grows, the color of Advent and Lent when the Church focuses on reconciliation.

They remembered how he stood beside those who too often find themselves on the outside of the Church’s embrace—immigrants, the mentally unhealthy, LGBTQ people, the poor.

Their gratitude filled the room like incense at a vigil.

And I, connected to parishioners Acklen and Val Banks, found myself moved to tears by the sheer love in that space.

It was Father Greg, and family friend Rev. Ellen Rasmussen of the United Methodist Church, who helped our family through a nightmare—the murder of our beloved Jerica and her babies Camaria and Zaniya.

But I carry with me something else—something deeply personal.

Because while many will remember Father Greg for his pastoral heart, his presence at seniors’ bedsides and at parish festivals, I will remember him most of all as an example of courage.

In 2017, Father Greg came out publicly as a gay man.

It was a moment that reverberated far beyond his parish walls.

In an article for the National Catholic Reporter, he wrote, “I will no longer live in the shadows of secrecy and shame. I will live my life openly and with integrity.”

He didn’t do this for applause.

He didn’t do it for attention.

He did it because he felt called—by the example of Pope Francis, by the Holy Spirit, and by the aching reality that so many LGBTQ Catholics remain silenced, shamed, or sidelined.

To do what Father Greg did takes holy guts.

It means facing down centuries of Church doctrine and culture that have denied the full humanity of LGBTQ people.

It means risking your ministry, your safety, and the affections of those you’ve served.

But more than that, it means telling the truth.

And in a Church that too often demands silence for the sake of appearances, telling the truth can feel like a revolutionary act.

As an openly gay ordained elder and commissioner in the Presbyterian Church (USA), I know what it costs to speak openly in the Church. Just years ago, I couldn’t do this as an openly gay man.

I also know what it means to feel like your love, your identity, your call is somehow less holy, less worthy, less welcome.

People like Father Greg cut the first furrow in the soil—breaking open hardened ground so that others can come through. So that others can grow. So others can blossom and bloom!

For those of us across denominations working to help the Church become a fuller, braver, more honest Body of Christ, Father Greg’s witness isn’t just inspiring.

It’s vital.

He has started a conversation that must continue—about the nature of the priesthood, the realities of queer vocation, and what it means to be wholly ourselves in service to God.

As he moves into this new season of ministry, I pray that he carries with him not only the gratitude of his people, but the knowledge that he has helped reshape the landscape of the Church itself.

He has done what prophets do: Spoken truth with compassion and dignity, refusing to believe that love and service are incompatible with integrity.

Farewell, Father Greg.

Thank you for breaking the silence.

Thank you for leading with courage.

And thank you for reminding us that there is nothing more pastoral, nothing more Christlike, than living the truth in love.

Meanwhile, enjoy your trip to my home state of Hawaii. Aloha!